#my various projects didn't require working with other people

[friendofthecrows]

Wish I had more of that stereotypical "refined genius psychopath mystery villain" vibes and less "dysfunctional no sleep cycle can't tell when/if they have emotions traumatized mess doesn't feel like a human paranoid future true crime psychopath" vibes. So that was word salad. Moving on.

#i have been described as a genius but unfortunately the #aspd and other mental illnesses mess with my impulse control and risk vs return and energy/motivation levels #so it kind of gets in the way of showing off my intelligence most of the time #which probably makes me less insufferable but also leads to some people underestimating me #or just thinking of me as too much of a mess in general #both of which i hate #and when it comes to the 'coolness/sophistication factor' vs 'unfortunate creature that needs to stop interacting with humans vibe' well. #trust me i would go into seclusion for the rest of time if it was financially viable and if #my various projects didn't require working with other people #ugh I'm not really that upset today I'm just frustrated by my brain #also my body and other people and the universe and the concept of time but that's a whole different subject #sometimes the stars align and it's like the best aspects of everything 'wrong' with me are displaying at once #and i actually feel like myself and like myself #then something shifts idk but the worse things start showing again and the best bits lose some of their influence and #suddenly I'm struggling to get through a day with a decent level of functionality and without engaging in destructive behaviors #the AND is very important because i can usually do or. At least i have that i guess #today i don't feel like a person i feel like a poorly written character who's been brought into real life #only to find out that when faced with normal everyday problems #their fucked up little traits are way more of a disadvantage than they thought #i could probably blame it on the trauma or the aspd or a million other things #but maybe it's just because i am the person i am #and idk how to feel about that #just want the stars to align again

[blitzyn]

Thoughts on modern Jock!Childe ? This au lives in my head rent free and iusudgdbjchdhdjchcbcksg

HELP I WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS I KINDA FORGOT THAT IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE JOCK CHILDE. i hope this is ok though. if it's not u can request something else/the same thing and ill try my best to come up with something more related to what u want. also!! i wasn't sure if you wanted nsfw or not so i just kept it sfw

gn!reader

> I can see him playing American football or hockey, truthfully. He enjoys the thrill of dangerous body-to-body contact and fast paced gameplay.

> He, surprisingly, knows how to play various other sports, too. He may not be the best, but he is well informed on the rules and the general idea of how to play. Just give him about 10 minutes to get the hang of it, and it'll be like he was born for that sport.

> He devotes a lot of time on his primary sport, but always makes sure he does his school assignments. Alongside with his desire to be the best in his sport, he also strives to be phenomenal academically, even if the work he turns in isn't the very best sometimes.

> Now! Childe isn't one to focus on romantic relationships very often. He doesn't believe he has a need for one. He's got enough attention in his school as it is. He's confident he could find someone in record time with the sheer amount of fans he has, but he also doesn't want to waste his time on someone if they don't truthfully like him and only view him as a trophy to flaunt.

> But that's also where you come in! It took him a while to get to properly know you, much to his delight. Don't get him wrong, he enjoys meeting new people and the small talk it brings, but he prefers the challenge of figuring out someone's quirks and habits before they tell him.

> You had also treated him like he wasn't a star student-athlete, and more like a friend. Like his status in school didn't matter. Although that was later into your friendship; you had spoken to him rather coldly at first.

> He was interested in how you so easily ignored the envious glares of particularly obsessive supporters when the two of you were chosen to be partners during a project one time. In previous experiences, some of his partners took it upon themselves to do most – if not all – of the work, leaving Childe with the sole job to present in front of the class. You did no such thing. You made sure to cut the workload in half between the two of you and kept it upon yourself to remind him of the upcoming deadline and to produce good work.

> He appreciated how you treated him like an equal, even if it was a bit harsh.

> And then came the dreaded time when a specific project required one of you to head to the other's house in order to properly complete it. You knew he had quite a number of admirers, but you'd never realized some of them would go so far as to begin threatening you (most of which you knew were empty), or even resort to going physical in order to instill fear.

> Of course, you never took them seriously. After all, they were diehard fans that would forget about Childe as soon as school was over. Although it did annoy you how they disrupted your routine for the sake of their own satisfaction.

> One fateful day, as you were making your way towards Childe's house after you had to go back to yours to grab something, two obsessive admirers managed to spot you. At first, they were easy to ignore, but they had very quickly resorted to shoving you to the floor when you refused to give them the reaction they wanted.

> Luckily, you weren't too far from Childe's house, and he managed to spot you from one of his windows. You'd never forget the looks on their faces when they saw him walk up with a cold, unamused, and almost angry glint in his eyes.

> After they had left, he insisted on buying you something in return for having to deal with those types of people because of him. He really was sorry!

> You begrudgingly accepted his offer, and went on a 'date' with him.

> It took quite a while of you denying your feelings for him for you to finally admit that you did, in fact, have a crush on him. Although it wasn't during a desired moment (it was while you were playing a game of truth or dare), it felt relieving to reveal what you had felt for so long. You were very glad to know that he felt the same.

Now, more about your relationship!

> You were very surprised to hear that Childe had been talking about you to his family. Even though it was your first time meeting them, it seemed as if you were an old friend to them.

> Loves to give gifts. You have no idea how he makes so much money to buy you things you've always wanted or even things you lingered your gaze on for more than five seconds. It always makes you feel a little bad since you don't give him anything very often, but he reassures you that all he needs is your smile. And a kiss.

> Very affectionate, too! There is not one moment where he doesn't at least have a hand on your body. It's even worse – or better, depending on how you see it – in private. Hugs you all the time. He does understand if you're more reluctant with physical touch, though. He asks for permission every time he wants to hold you unless you specifically tell him you're okay with it.

> Has a death grip when he's asleep. Once you're in his arms, you're stuck there the entire night. It'll take either you being stronger than him or some miracle to tug yourself out of his hold. It's kind of become a problem that you had to learn to accept.

> Loves kisses. He plants them everywhere - your forehead, cheeks, lips, neck, arm, anywhere where there's skin showing. It's mandatory to kiss each other before one of you leave the house. Even if you're only leaving to get the mail.

> I see him as more of a competitive arguer. A lot of the time, you two only argue about small things like where the TV remote goes or who's making dinner that night. But in the infrequent instances where you are genuinely arguing, he can't help but go on and on until he gets the last word.

> If you buy him a piece of jewelery, he always makes sure to kiss it after he takes it off in the locker room before a game. It's his good luck charm!

> Enjoys showing you off, but tones it down if you feel uncomfortable about it.

> He finds it hilarious when you try to squirm away from him after a victorious game. You whine and shout about how sweaty he is, but you're more than happy to give him his kiss. Most of the time.

> Occasionally waves to you when he gets the chance during his games. He loves seeing the smile it brings to your face when he does so.

Super sorry it's short, I ran out of ideas lol

#male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader #childe x reader #modern au #jock childe #genshin impact childe #genshin impact drabble #childe x male reader

[littleststarfighter]

You don't have to answer this at all, just wanted to give some perspective/info from someone who's been doing illustration commissions for about 15 years: in my opinion, it's always better to work backwards from an hourly rate rather than doing value-based pricing.

When working with private individuals as clients, US$30-50/hr is pretty standard for custom freelance stuff depending on experience, but since you're new to commissions I'd recommend offering a discount for the first few slots (both to get things moving, and also to give yourself lower-stakes "training" until you get used to the process—sometimes your workflow will change in ways you didn't expect under the conditions).

Personally, I prefer to offer a fixed quote based on my hourly rate, because that gets any kind of sticker shock out of the way. I estimate the amount of time it'll take me, add ~10% as a buffer, and apply my hourly rate. The fixed quote also gives me a little freedom not to stress out if it's taking more or less time than anticipated; I just make a note for my next quote and adjust accordingly.

The hourly rate might seem high to you, as it often does to people who are used to more traditional salary structures. But keep in mind that as a freelancer, you're also your own admin support: you don't bill for time spent emailing, researching, invoicing, etc. Tax can also get a bit complicated if you start doing a lot of freelance work.

My own base (non-commercial) rate is US$60/hr, because I've been doing this for a very long time. Frankly, the reason I have a lot of long-term repeat clients who pay my rate is because I communicate well and deliver on time. I set out a timeline up front with scheduled check-ins at various stages, and then I stick to that timeline no matter what. As someone who's also hired many freelance artists in the past, I know that reliability will win over genius every single time.

Speaking of timelines, ALWAYS be specific about the number and scope of revisions you offer. Depending on the project, I might phrase it as "2 rounds of revisions, with up to 1 hour of work per round" or similar. I bill anything beyond that scope at a higher hourly rate, usually about US$90/hr, billed by the half-hour. This also gives you leverage to say "Sure, I can add a whole new character and completely change the background; that will take about X hours which will put us into hourly billing territory at X rate." Either they'll back down or you'll be well compensated for the trouble, and most importantly (from a client services perspective) you've not told them no, you've given them options and reminded them what they've already agreed to.

In terms of payment plans, I normally require 50% up front (non-refundable) and 50% on final delivery. Since you haven't yet built up a rep as a commission artist, I recommend a lower up-front rate (maybe 20-30%). I do strongly advise getting SOMETHING up front to lock clients in and make sure they can't completely ditch if something happens. Plus, refusing to pay a small deposit is a major red flag.

I offer a 5% discount for complete payment up front, because it's honestly worth that 5% just to not have to deal with chasing people down and sending invoice reminders and whatnot.

I'm sorry to hear you've been going through such a tough time, and I hope this was helpful and not too overwhelming; it's just stuff I wish someone had told me when I was first starting out, and I think it's important for working artists to share info about business practices. I wasn't strict about a lot of things back then (like number of revisions), and it always ended up coming back to bite me. It might seem counter-intuitive, but I promise that thinking through and setting a lot of rules/boundaries up front will save you a lot of stress and trouble in the end.

I seriously want to thank you for this. It's incredibly informative not just for me but I'm sure other start out artists too. You've gone over things that I'd have no idea to do, thank you.

I'm certainly looking into how to pay tax as being in the UK I've never had to work that out before as we have it done for us in most jobs. So that would have been something I'd have forgotten about and it's not something you want to miss. I definitely have to time myself working as I don't know how long I take as I've never thought about that either. I just know I'm slow. It's interesting to see what you'd charge hourly as I see a lot of fan commissions having a low fixed rate depending on what you offer.  So definitely have to look whether to offer that or like you suggest a more freelance rate of pay. I'll admit US$30-50/hr made me gasp but that's because I'm used to working for UK minimum wage (roughly $13 a hr) so that seems a lot to me. Gives me something to think about. Though I worry about pricing people out to begin with what with being quite slow and a nobody. And yes! Never forget about getting a deposit. I learnt that the bad way decades ago when I did try to do a commission and was never paid. That's what made me nervous to even begin as I can be a pushover. So need to be more strict in what I can offer and of course revise too.

Seriously thank you this is so helpful. Like you say there's so much people don't share about getting into freelance and commission work. Getting that step up, even if it's me doing it, is something I've no idea how to even start on. I get people saying why aren't you working in art? But my answer is always 'how?' It's something no one's told me about. How to sell yourself and your work. Even commission work confused me. So please don't worry this is beyond helpful and I'm very grateful for you taking your time to help me. It's been a very rough few months but I'm trying to stay positive. This may help me while I find work. Much love, Lucy 💖

[kangamommynow]

Whew

We finished a 4 day week of testing with more testing and evening conferences. Now the kids are gone for a couple of days for conferences and professional development.

Made it.

My dear M had a good morning and then descended into a darkness. He was playing on his computer during art. No, he's not supposed to. Of course I encouraged him to make a different choice. Not just because he should have been creating (he has been given a special art project that fits his interests) but also because he was playing a typing game that frustrates him. Repeatedly punching his computer. Slamming it shut. Me trying to stay calm and reminding him that he has the power to make a different choice that will not frustrate him. Also knowing that physically taking the computer is the worst option.

I spent the next hour gently talking to him as he continued. He couldn't talk. He goes so deep in himself that he can't find words. It's a trauma reaction. I did eventually call for support to see if someone else would have more luck, but by the time they came he managed to claw his way back to the light. This poor kid.

I discovered that his old CC teacher has been talking to other people about various options for M . Not me. I'm holding on to the idea that it's because she cares for him, she knows him and wants best for him. I'm trying not to feel disrespected by the fact that she's not coming to me. For one thing, I'm now his teacher and his advocate at school. For another, she didn't give him a behavior plan or a safety plan, which he really needs. I'm working on writing it now, as his IEP is coming up. They require a lot of soul-searching and objective observation. Why does he do X? When? What triggers it? What aggravates it? What defuses it? What skill does he need to learn so he can more effectively function? What function does the behavior serve? All behavior is communication. What is he communicating?

[sporadiclilbook]

I will beat the living hell out of my procrastination. And what better way to do it by returning to my roots of Yan Genshin? Also this is solely based on a sus leak of her personality.

Puppeteer with silver strings

(Yan!Sandrone/Marionette x reader)

TW: Body Horror, Gore

You'll never guess you'd work for Lady Sandrone after faithfully serving Lord Pantalone. You've heard a lot of rumours about her......hobby. Still you tried to give her the benefit of doubt. Which in the end was useless when you first saw it. At first you were terrified, almost throwing up even.

The various viscera strewn across her workshop, some were starting to rot and some were preserved in a jar. You had knocked on the door first, with the intention of brining her the latest report of one of her various projects. You somehow controlled your shock and fear, instead opting to clear your throat. "Apologies for intruding my lady but I brought you the latest report from one of your facilities." Handing her the file, she seemed pleased at your lack of reaction. Was it amazement? "If there's nothing else, I shall take my leave." With that you bowed and leave her workshop, the feeling of eyes burning onto your back never leaving.

The next encounter you had with her was while doing simple paperwork. The Harbingers has far more important matters than silly matters. So it is people like you the work are handed to. Noticing her in front of your desk, you slowly looked up to meet her eyes. "Is there something you require of me, Lady Sandrone?" She hummed, staring at your for a full 30 seconds before finally answering you. "Tell me, are you familiar with puppets?" The question made you think. You didn't really have opinions on puppet but.... "I remember going to a puppet show with my parents when I was young. The fact an inanimate object can have myriads of movement with only some parts of their body attached by a string is interesting."

You hope this answer satisfied her. If not, you dare not think of what might happen to you if it doesn't. "Is that so....then you shall accompany me to a puppet show then. I need new inspirations and you're the only one with general knowledge of it. I believe your input will be more valuable than my other underlings." With a nod you accepted her invitation, albeit you felt like you were being blackmailed into going with her. "Understood my lady, I shall accompany you." She then gave you the time and place where you will meet her, expecting you to not be late or else. That night you nervously sat on your bed. Considering there was human remains, the rumours must be true.

She is making puppets out of real human being.

Suppose you should have seen it coming, considering her title is Marionette. But you don't want to end up as one of her dolls. Your only plan is to please her with answers that is up to her taste and live to see another day. It'll be like walking in a field of snow with bear traps underneath so you'll need to be careful. As the day of the pupper show was nearing, your anxiety soared. You kept telling yourself it will be fine. Nothing will go wrong. If you succeed, she will have a positive opinion of you. A great relationship with your superior is good, right? Splashing water to your face and wiping it with a towel, you look at yourself in the mirror. You took several deep breaths, reminding yourself that you're not on a date. You were walking on the thin line between life and death.

Arriving earlier so that you don't upset her, you waited until she arrives. What shocked you was the fact her usual giant of a puppet wasn't with her this time. You don't think you, or anyone else in that matter, have ever seen her without it. She always went everywhere with it. "Lady Sandrone." You greeted her while bowing. "Let's go." You nod your head and went with her into the theater. You have fond memories of the theater. Your parents met here and they used to bring you to various shows all the time. It wasn't only puppet shows but also opera singing or theater plays of ancient stories.

Soon the show began and your eyes was focused on the show. The puppet type that was used was marionette, same as Lady Sandrone's title. The curtains was lowered until the top half of the theater was covered, hiding the hands that controlled them from above. The story was about 2 lovers who were seperated by war. One of them was engulfed in grief when her beloved was forcefully drafted in the army. Soon enough, she commissioned paintings of her love and even dressed up mannequin so that she can pretend. The only thing grounding her to reality was the fact that she was sure she would feel the skin of her love once more.

But came the plot twist. Her lover had died in the war. The body was given to her to be prepared for a funeral. This was the last straw. In grief she told the public it would be a private funeral and that she will cremate the body and have the ashes be turned into a piece of jewelry so that they can be together until her end. The public believed her, dimissing her decision as one that belonged to a grieving widow. But alas it was all a lie. She had hidden away the body, had it preserved. Missing body parts replaced with porcelain. Rotting flesh with putty. For she was truly desperate. For she still believed her love was alive.

Soon the ending arrived. At last the woman realised that she cannot truly save her love. Her appearance was disheveled. As she look in the mirror she realise that there was only one way they can be together. Cutting her long hair that reached the floors, she used it as the hair for her life-sized puppet. Dressing it in the gown that was gifted to her by her love. Spraying it with her favourite perfume. She placed the puppet next to her love and burn the whole villa. Her love and her puppet placed in the basement for safekeeping. She could only hope the rubble from the fire would hide the entrance forever. So that none can disturb their slumber.

The show ended and you glanced over to Lady Sandrone. She didn't seemed to have any positive nor negative reaction to it. The two of you went out of the theater and walked back to the palace together. "What did you think of the show? Did you enjoy it?" She asked you to which you replied "The puppet's movement was smooth and there wasn't a single clunkiness to it. It truly showed the mastery of the puppeteer." She hummed at your answer.

"And the story?"

This made you silence for a while. You never thought she would ask about the story. "It was nice. The characters were well written." Silence filled the air again. Was that not the answer she wanted? She doesn't seem disappointed. Then again, you are walking behind her. She suddenly stops and turned around to look at you. "Is that so.....then come with me again." Your eyes widen at the statement. Lady Sandrone wants you to accompany her? You swallow your saliva in fear. Was this a good sign or a bad one? "If that is your wish my lady." Sandrone smiled at you, and it looked colder than Snezhnaya's winter.

After that she took you plays after plays. Often asking you opinions about them and you kept answering. Soon enough your fellow underlings suspect that you were becoming the Harbinger's favourite. All those time spending with her made you more relaxed around her. You were starting to consider her a friend. Sandrone however was thinking. Thinking of how wonderful of a puppet you'll be.

Sandrone admit, perhaps she has fallen in love with you. Such a strong emotion this is. She has never felt something like this before. Is this what the puppet from the first show you've seen together felt like? Is this genuine happiness? Her fellow Harbingers achieve it through other means and she has always felt jealousy. But now she doesn't have to. She has you. And thats enough to satisfy her.

You'll be elegant, strong, and perfect. Unlike those improper puppet that was made out of those that she dislikes. No. You will be her masterpiece. Every people of various arts needs one, no? She think it was cute. How you don't notice the time she was staring at your biological info. Measuring your height and designing the perfect little puppet. All hers to cherish and control. Her plans takes time but it's ok she can wait.

Until one day she could not.

You were packing your things. Were you fired? No, that can't be. "Why are you packing up your things?" She asked you. It seemed like no one told her that a few arrangements has been made and that you've been told to work for Lord Pantalone once more. You tell her the news, but you didn't expect her to....have an outburst. The puppet behind her stood tall behind her. Towering over both of you. But you know she's the one in charge. Foolishly you tried to reason with her. "L-Lady Sandrone, though I work for Lord Pantalone again. I will always make time for our puppet shows."

"I don't care about that."

"Without you I can't make my masterpiece. No other person would be fit. No no no NO. YOU CAN'T LEAVE."

Her outburst startled you. Her puppet then grabbed your hand dragging you to her workshop. You dreaded every second. Muttering prayers in your head to The Tsaritsa that you may live to see another day. That you may be saved from death's clutch. But oh little did you know. Your prayers are answered. Just not in the way you think. You were strapped onto a chair, your chin lifted to see Lady Sandrone's face. "Don't worry love, you'll be fine. It won't hurt I promise. It'll be quick. Would you like for me to sedate you? No, I want you to feel my love for you."

Her crazed ramblings of love instilled fear even deeper inside of you. Your breathing was quick. Behind her, in the shadows, you see it. A puppet that looked like you. You started to squirm but Sandrone cooed at you, shushing you as if you were a child throwing a tantrum. "Don't worry, it's a very nice puppet. I put all of my talent and effort into it. Won't it be wonderful? You as my puppet, and I, the hand that will control your silver strings." She started to grab tools and held you down. "Don't worry, soon you'll wake up feeling much better." Your screams of pain and her crazed laughter filled the room.

And soon you woke up.

Feeling......nothing but....what is it...

Devotion, yes that's must be it. But to who again...?

"My...lady?" You weakly said to the familiar woman in front of you.' She cupped your cold cheeks in her hands. "Silly you, you know you can call me by my real name now." She leaned into your ear, her breath brushing against it like a cold wind. Yet you did not shiver. "Let me whisper it to you........."

#sporadicpage #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere sandrone x reader #yandere sandrone

[alexissara]

Polyamarous Game Design

Being Polyamarous is an extremally important part of me. Having had multiple partners for many years now, lasting, loving relationships that have made me the woman I am it's important that the art I create also reflects this. However, I've failed many times to kind of capture the polyamorous spirit in my work and it's something I think is complicated to capture in the shorter narrative work I used to do. Now that I am mostly working in TTRPGs I am presented with a new questions of how to do this kind of representation.

While I've done several TTRPG projects over my couple of years of having moved into this space I think the biggest examples of me working poly forward design are my Story Synth game The Polycule's Grand Multiverse Adventure! and my work on Thirsty Sword Lesbians.

[Art from Thirsty Sword Lesbians by Matte Bat] A thing that really attracted to me to Thirsty Sword Lesbians when I was just a fan of it and not yet brought on to write Yuisa Revolution and The Matriarch was how polyamorous the game itself was. Getting smitten was never limited to one person at a time, you could finally kiss in a dangerous moment with multiple people, you could exchange strings for people, The Scoundrel's one in every port had serial monogamy that could easily bleed into polyamory. As far as I know a lot of like how polyamarous the game was at the time wasn't intended but sometimes the simple act of just not placing limits and making something feelings forwards makes something more polyam than most.

When I was working on Yuisa Revolution I was trying to make a setting that encourage polyamory but never like made you feel pressured into being polyamorous. I made sure to really encourage open love as a part of the culture of Yuisa. I was looking to create a little anarchist utopia in this setting.

With The Matriarch I took a different approach which was the Family Mechanic. While the gut instinct is to go mom for the playbook I mention in the information section that your family can be a Polycule. I designed the core mechanic to not just work for a caretaker type relationship but equals meaning your family could be two partners and a dog, two partners and a kid, three partners, or whatever kind of orientation you want to do. I wanted a lot of room for The Matarich to be more then one thing and to hold the level of flexibility that other playbooks had.

With The Polycule's Grand Multiverse Adventure! I was taking For The Queen's formula then shifting it to become a player lead force of curiosity. It's a fairly simple game but one I put a lot of thought into. The biggest concern for me was the end point of the game, I didn't want to make it feel like now everyone get peer pressured into picking one universe. So I made sure to include a reassurance that everyone could pick the universe that felt like home to them and it would be easy to visit each other. The little ending section serves as a little way for the players to also debrief about what they enjoyed, what they didn't and things like that.

This moves me to the present where in Thirsty Sword Lesbians: Falling Deeper the biggest focus of the expansion is on long term relationships. These kinds of relationships are really important to me. I've been with my Fiancé for over 14 years, been with some of my GFs now for over 7 years, and been with my most recent GF for over a year. I'll probably talk more about this specifically later but it's relevant here because notably I am polyamorous and in relationships of various forms of long term. Yet, most narratives around relationships are monogamous and creating polyamarous mechanics that are less like "no one is stopping you" and more like supporting the actual relationships presents a requirement to actually really consider how to "gamify" the relationships.

As of now the direction we're going is to do coupling but basically allow unlimited amounts of using these mechanics. Focus on the individual dynamics between particular partners as opposed to the widder Polycule's interactions. I think they can be tweaked though to allow for the whole table to engage in them, it's just currently designed with the pairing in mind. Which is consistent with how TSL works in general anyway. I am really happy with how it looks so far but I want to see in playtesting how it looks for a polycule with a few relationship playbooks in action.

The way relationship playbooks work right now is they push a drama for the characters based on their type of relationship or a particular conflict the players want to see. So seeing how a player has a few of these plus their playbook will really be the test for this kind of system.

Outside of this I want to experiment with ways to do polyamory mechanically, in my card game, Soul Of The Hero, that is currently in development right now I am playing with a polycule symbol and that indicates a character is part of a particular polycule and that also gives them a bonus. Where as individual extra strong relationships might be mention the character by name.

If you know any games that have done polyamory in a neat way please let me know, I would love to study some more polyamorous games and see the other ways people use the medium of games to express polyam life.

#polyamourous #polyam wlw #Polyam #Poly #poly lesbian #Polyam representation #Polyam games #polyamory #polyamorous games #poly games #polyam ttrpg #poly ttrpg #polyamorous ttrpg #TTRPG #TTRPG Design #TTRPG Dev #TSL #Thirsty Sword Lesbians #Thirsty Sword Lesbians Falling Deeper #Falling Deeper #SoH #Soul Of The Hero #Yuisa Revolution #The Matriarch #The Polycule's Grand Multiverse Adventure!

[inkofamethyst]

March 13, 2024

Happy covid-iversary, yay. "Two weeks to stop the spread," is a saying that will haunt me my entire life, I think.

I didn't actually journal on March 13 which is a shame in hindsight, but I remember not doing much. I lounged around my house because classes were cancelled, I picked my sister up from school, and we went to get ice cream. A lot of other people from my/her high school had the same idea, so the line was long, and I was too awkward to say hi to the people I kinda knew (but I always thought they were cooler than me (I genuinely think most people are cooler than me... which might be a problem in some respects, but I'll deal with that later.)).

Anyway I coded for 5 hours straight and got a working encounter system, a working character creator, and a working opponent set generator. There's still a lot to move from my note to the script, but, the game works, and everything I've written runs as intended. Is it fun? Well, right now, it's all the same. Name yourself, fight one-fight two-fight three (each only requiring one or two inputs), game ends. It was exciting the first couple of times, but now I want to add more for more variety, of course.

[edit: wrote the above a couple days ago and after a break it has returned to being kind of fun. I've also learned that instantaneousness kills all tension, so I wrote a few basic functions to delay and separate lines in various ways. Anyway I'm going to hold off on doing much more transcribing/coding from my pseudocode, since I don't want to get too far ahead of the final project timeline, and I don't even really know what the expectations are, so I could be way outside of bounds here and I just wouldn't know.]

[edit 2, next day: New plan. Going to write more detailed pseudo/update poorly-detailed pseudo, do some story planning for the secret ending that I don't intend to get to but hey yaneverknow, and try to balance mechanics/come up with items/do a bunch of the little things that sap a surprising amount of creativity.]

I also binged She-Hulk, and I loved it?! I thought it was going to be awful and cringey the way people online (dudes?) talked about it, but it was genuine, and meta, and actually had me laughing at times. I mean, that last episode? Come on!!! Sure, some of the vfx were just alright, but it's a show, and after six-odd years of AOS, I'm used to it. I'm glad they leaned into the unseriousness. Also,,,, Matt Murdock is such a hottie. The quips, the law banter, the violence, ahhhh. My dnd-friend strongly endorses Daredevil, but I've held off because I was afraid of the violence, honestly. But I'm a big girl, and I'm very good at closing my eyes.

Today I'm thankful for a successful antiquing run!!!! Early last semester I heard about this antique market, and I finally put in the effort to get there today, and it was amazing!!! I was looking for shared housewares (found the specific item I was looking for!) and unique vintagey jewelry. Didn't quite manage to find anything truly vintage, but I got a darling piece of simple costume jewelry and the most fantastic mug that's shaped like a head of lettuce (this description does not do its beauty justice). The necklace will be perfect for when I finally make my way to the opera, and the mug is like something a fairy would drink from. I stayed within my budget which means I have just a little bit left in my allowance to thrift for clothes, maybe on Friday or Saturday (since I'll be in lab all day tomorrow).

By the way, the antique store was amazing. It has at least five floors (I got tired after three and a half) and is filled to the brim with some of the most eclectic stuff you could ever find, with old-timey radios playing music from various eras throughout. Magical. I could waste a lot of money there.

Oh wait, before I go, yesterday was such a busy day that I didn't even journal but I:

Met up with a lab/classmate and their partner for a lunch and a stroll in the city which was fantastic. My original plan was to go see Dune and also to pick up some (red, short, block) heels I'd ordered, but I didn't end up liking the heels on me very much, and I was enjoying the pair's company too much to cut the time short with a three-hour movie.

Went to a paint night through a diversity org I'm in which was also fantastic. I painted a cute little mushroom scene! I don’t really consider myself a visual artist and I’m not a huge fan of acrylic but it was very relaxing so I’d love to try watercolor sometime. Also like,, because this isn’t my "preferred medium" it was SO nice to not be stressed about perfection and just go for it.

[whatyourusherthinks]

Cabrini Review

Ah fuck, it's my first Angel Studios movie. Never heard of them? Well, they are a Mormon faith-based movie company that uses crowd-funding to produce their movies. Naturally it's CEOs and film makers are all God-fearing, alt-right, dog whistle-spouting, propaganda-spreading Neo-Nazis. They're most famous for a movie that came out last year called Sound of Freedom, the "true" story about a guy who tried to end child trafficking by child trafficking. And then one of the film's funders got arrested for child trafficking. Can't fucking make that shit up. The only reason the theater I work at shows these movies is because the company and a distribution deal with Angel, the only people who come to see them are decrepit old bags who only watch to have their worst presuppositions confirmed and masochists who've lost their riding crops like myself.

TO BE FAIR, I was morbidly curious to see After Death, their documentary about proving the existence of the after life. (But it left the theaters before I had a chance to watch it.) And the premise of telling a story about a real life nun I've never heard of isn't a bad one. Glancing at Wikipedia it seems like the real life Cabrini wasn't caught grifting sick patients or stealing babies like certain other nuns. So maybe the movie is a decent retelling of the person's life. We shall see.

What's The Movie About?

This is a biopic of Francis Xavier Cabrini, an Italian nun who was the first Catholic saint from the US. The movie specifically follows a mission to New York City building an orphanage and then a hospital.

What I Like.

Cabrini was a good character in the movie. She was driven and stubborn, generally wise, kind to those less fortunate but didn't allow anyone to take advantage of her. Her plans to fund her various projects and protect her wards were pretty inspiring, not gonna lie. And I liked that they let her cry in a couple scenes and didn't give her shit for it (Even what she was crying over was kinda weird). I also like her friend Victoria, a prostitute who murdered her pimp is self defense then works with Cabrini. I was concerned that the movie makers were taking the piss releasing this on International Women's Day, but no the women characters are good. John Lithgow plays the corrupt mayor of New York who is cartoonishly evil and I kinda loved it. The set design and costuming was also pretty good. I liked all the top hats and cigars. There's some pretty neat scene transitions as well. Also the movie didn't try to pass off any reprehensible behavior as righteous, so it cleared the minimum requirement.

What I Didn't Like.

So Cabrini is a fine character in the movie, but she also has absolutely no flaws. I mean she's sickly, but that never really plays into anything in the plot or prevents her from doing anything. Actually I lied, the one part of the plot that is played into by the being chronically sick thing is she meets a doctor she becomes friends with, so her one flaw is a net positive. She's also followed around by 5 or 6 other nuns who get absolutely no characterization. I think they said one of their names once but I can't remember what it was. I also find it a bit funny that this Christian movie about a Catholic nun makes the Catholic Church a secondary antagonist. But they also try to present the story for being a bit morally grey, yet everything Cabrini does is entirely righteous and everyone trying to stop her is either racist, corrupt, or both. There was one scene where the editing made me entirely confused about where characters were, and the fact the shit started exploding didn't help. The message of the movie was "Start the Mission, God will provide the means." Not only is that just not how the world works, but the main conflict in the movie is Cabrini not having enough money to do any of the mission work she wants to do and has to convince other people to donate. "But Roan," Joe Buggknutz protests, "The means God provided were the donations from the people." But not only did Cabrini basically have to beg for all of the money, (which maybe you can argue is part of the mission but she's already taking care of orphans and supervising building places for sick and injured to go, which was her stated mission's purpose so it seems churlish to demand that she does more) but half the people she asks don't give her a cent! Thanks for coming through there God! "But- but the Lord works in mysterious ways!" Stop making excuses for your favorite imaginary friend you cuc-

Final Summation.

Cabrini is fine. If you can stomach the idea of making a glowing biopic of a missionary, you can watch this movie with no problems. I'm still not recommending it because fuck Angel Studios. But if your crazy relative sends you one of their free tickets that they try to unload on their audience, there are worse ways to spend two and a half hours.

#Cabrini #Rejected Movies

[askagamedev]

Any thoughts on Dunkey's foray into games publishing? Anything there or just someone with opinions and therefor they must also be good publishers?

For those who are unaware, Dunkey is a youtuber with ~7.2 million subscribers as of this post. He is primarily a youtube pundit and posts about various video games and his opinions of them. Most recently, he has announced that he has started an indie publisher named BigMode. According to their website, BigMode can provide support for:

Marketing

Funding

PR and Community Management

Porting to other platforms

Localization

QA

These are all services that most publishers of all budgetary levels can provide. Most in-development games need help with most of these in order to launch successfully. Each of these things requires a significant amount of resource investment for a development studio to handle themselves. The primary purpose of a publisher is to provide these services for multiple games in exchange for a cut of each of the finished games that get produced.

These services aren't cheap. Game publishers survive or perish based on their ability to evaluate and choose winning games. Publishers need to pick some winners in order to keep the lights on and continue paying for these services for the next batch of games they choose to publish. A lot of games sound fantastic at the pitch level, but run aground on all of the thousand big and little issues that crop up between pitch and final submission. It remains to be seen whether BigMode has the ability to pick winners consistently or provide the support needed in order to carry the projects they choose over the finish line.

I managed to find Bigmode's LLC registration in Florida, but I can't find anybody on LinkedIn who says they work there. Presumably somebody within my LinkedIn network would be working there doing things like community management, marketing, localization, QA, or platform porting - all services that they say they are providing - unless they are planning to outsource everything to third party companies. I can definitely find most other indie game publishers, as well as people with career histories with those indie publishers. It's also a little strange that BigMode didn't start by announcing any titles that they've already secured the rights to publish.

If Dunkey really wants to do this and the company doesn't really produce enough revenue to sustain itself, I suppose he can become a modern patron of the arts and pay for his publishing ambitions himself with his other streams of income. I'm glad that more options for publisher services are being offered for indie game devs - I hope that this does turn out well. But I'm skeptical at the moment - there's only been the announcement so far, and publishing requires a strong team effort. Picking projects to publish is only a small part of a very long and difficult process. Dunkey is similar to Dr. Disrespect in that I don't really think either will really be greatly affected if their game dev dreams fall apart. I think the worst case scenario regarding BigMode would be promising games going with BigMode as their publisher and falling apart because BigMode isn't up to the task.

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#indie game development #game publishing #the business of video games #working in the game industry #youtube content creators

[the-iron-orchid]

If nothing else, Lucio did pump a lot of cash into the pockets of various Vesuvian artists. Whether this was good for one's artistic reputation or not is debatable, but if you were willing and able to realize Lucio's latest wildly kinky fantasy image, you certainly would not go hungry.

The Temple Painter was spotted during one of Lucio's tours of the district, where he would make a big show of 'providing for his people' by tossing alms and sweets to the impoverished outside the temples. (Never mind that he could have provided much more by actually paying for civic infrastructure projects...)

By its very nature, the esoteric subject matter that the Temple Painter specializes in involves a great deal of highly-adorned nudity and representations of sacred sexual congress, all of it in bright colors and shining gold. Of course this drew the eye of the Count, who was not to be refused in this way.

But the Temple Painter didn't suffer through all those sittings staring at the Count's gleaming, freshly-waxed buttcheeks for nothing - with time, they went from living in a cramped rented space in one of Vesuvia's many insulae to outright purchasing a rather nice little flat in the Temple District itself.

(A/N wrt sacred art under the cut)

The linked images were made by my own painting teacher, who was trained in the Karma Gadri style of thangka painting, a lineage originating from the 8th Karmapa. Thangka painting is very rigorous and well-defined, and while there is some artistic license available in ornamentation choices and such, by and large it is a tightly prescribed art form. To be done properly, it requires direct transmission from a teacher - that is, you must interact with someone who has been trained and have them oversee your work.

However, its overall style and decorative elements do transfer well to other forms of artwork, and some contemporary thangka artists are also creating social commentary and pop-art works alongside their sacred art, like Ang Tsherin Sherpa.

#Count Crispies #me out here catering to me and a handful of my friends lol #I think it's hilarious that my dumb self-insert is probably the one who interacted the most with Lucio ahaha #they STILL need a name #Yeshe the temple painter

[inconmess]

Can We... Add more people?

Dorym Week Day 6: Sending Stone and Day 7: Free Day

Basically Will wants a poly to happen and he gets it. Compilation in AO3 can be found here

"Oh my god, Will! Are we really doing this?" Orym groaned as he was grabbed by his boyfriend to the... admittedly most controversial store around yet. It was weird, had some... unique ideologies and sold the most bizarre goods that gods knew where they got the idea from.

"We are going through this because you need more friends and can't be moping every time I am off on a trip."

"I don't mope around!" he denied as he was dragged to that section of the store. "Want some company? To talk your hearts out and just make connections? We got you!" the aisle read and was filled with stones. multiple ones of various colours. Some pairless, some untouched, and rightfully so.

"Yep, this will do!" Will said as he grabbed one of the pairless turquoise ones and tossed it up in the air, turning to give his boyfriend a big smile as he went forward to the cash counter.

"That'll be 8 gold pieces."

"Are you sure we need this right now?"

"Of course yes!"

"I have you! Why can't we just buy a pair and keep each other company instead of buying one with someone else? It is for people who are lonely! I am not lonely!"

"But wouldn't it be fun? Making friends?"

"Or letting people down, making them assume that you are single and available only to realise I am having a loving boyfriend?"

"Maybe you might fall in love with them!" Will said, seemingly excited about that prospect to the horror of Orym.

"But I love you! Why would I love someone else? Is this the way you are indirectly saying that you are losing interest in me and want to set me up with someone else before letting me down?"

"No! I love you so very much but we have talked about this before! I wouldn't mind having another boyfriend!"

"No we didn't! Will!"

Said man stubbornly paid for the stone and trust it towards Orym. "This store has a no-returns policy so this is yours now!"

Orym just wanted to bang his face on the wall when the man behind the counter piped up. "Oh! You have to send a message to inform the other person it has been purchased so that you can start the connection! The other stone had been bought super recently though so you haven't kept them waiting for a long time. Have fun!"

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

In reality it took Orym almost a month before he actually got to actually activating the stone. Will, had been right when he said Orym did go through a bout of loneliness when Will wasn't around and it particularly hit him hard that day.

"Hey... person on the other side? I... don't know if I will use it again but I feel lonely right now and may require a pick me up? Is that how this works? I don't know. Someone else forced it on me so..."

"Oh hello there! I never imagined someone would actually respond someday!" a much higher-pitched voice came through the stone and he felt guilty because he'd put this off for almost a month and what if the other person had needed help then?

"Anyway. Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want me to talk about it? Or do you want us to meet up somewhere? I don't know how this works!"

"Maybe meet up somewhere?" Orym said and for a second he was surprised before he had to agree, staring at the walls is getting boring after all. And the voice on the other side is interesting, as much as he hated to admit it.

"That was... quick. Are you-"

"NO! I am not a serial killer or something like that!"

"Which is exactly what they will say..."

"I am just... lonely."

"Alright. Meet up at the Tempest cafe?"

"Sounds... ok."

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

He also hated to admit the fact that he'd had a lot of fun, after a really long time, which is saying something considering he had Will for a boyfriend. The man, Dorian, had something so... charming and irresistible about him that he could barely control himself from giving in the kiss he had given on their third meeting and was now guilty and panicking because He loved Will. He was in a relationship but was hesitant to mention it to the other man because he didn't want to lose whatever that was happening between him and Dorian? Feelings were weird and confusing and he hated Will was right about this again and for a second, actually giving in to the pull of the stone.

Oh god! How was he going to tell this to Will? Would he be mad? Would he break up with him? He knew the other day Will was talking about him falling in love and them bringing someone else into their fold but what if he was just joking? What if he had thought about something else? What if-

"You working yourself into a panic again, love," he heard a gentle whisper and oh shit! Will was home and he was home early and who knows how long ago he had come, what if someone had broken in?

"Did you miss me so much that the loneliness made you panic?" came the question, such a mix of teasing and concern that he flung himself into his arms as he sobbed, muttering a string of worries and gibberish.

"Love... what happened?"

"The... the stone."

"What about the stone?"

"You were right and now you are going to hate me and break up with me."

"Orym... what are you talking about?"

"Dorian kissed me and I didn't even stop him or tell him about us and I actually liked it but I also love you and I don't know what to do! And you'll probably want to break up with me and I don't want to lose you."

"Love... who said anything about losing me? Who is Dorian?"

"The... man with the other stone."

"Tell me about him?"

Orym completely froze for a second, unable to process the question. Did Will just... ask him to describe this person who had kissed him?

"Are you serious? I was almost panicking over cheating on you and you are just... asking me to describe him? You're not mad?"

"No."

The simplicity of the answer just infuriated him more. "Why aren't you mad with me?"

"I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted to bring in a third and knowing you might have a potential third excites me!"

"Will..."

"What! I thought we discussed about this?"

"No. We didn't and now you say I was panicking all along for no reason?"

"Yes? Maybe? I don't know?"

A pillow came flying out of nowhere and hit Will in the face. "Stupid."

"I am your stupid baby. Now who is this guy?"

"Blue, tall, kinda awkward and shy-"

"That guy! You kissed that guy? Now I am jealous."

"Why?"

"Because I have been trying to talk to him for almost 6 months and he almost always avoids me and now you say you have kissed him??" Will whined.

"In the 3rd meet up too." Orym teased.

"Now you have to introduce me to him!"

"What if he doesn't want to get into a relationship knowing we are dating."

"Trust me. He will."

#critical role #dorymweek #orym/will #orym of the air ashari #dorian storm

[charlotte--kensington]

Oh, look, a Christmas fic in January... Let's act like I was punctual for once in my life.

For four years now Arthur has fallen victim to the recurring trend of his neighbour's overzealous decorating. Year after year the amount of lights and decorations grows, and year after year Arthur cannot help but compete.

This is the story of the year they went overboard.

---

This fic is NSFW near the end, but mostly fluff and humour. You'll see.

---

Snow fell silently onto the roofs of the duplexes that seamed Holyoake Road.

Within a matter of hours the city of Oxford had turned from a sombre, rainy town in Britain into a winter wonderland. Each and every surface was coated in a thick blanket of snow, and though whatever had been on the streets had already begun to turn into nothing but brown sludge, anything out of reach of kids or cars had remained a pristine blanket of fluffy white.

It almost felt like the snow alone had made the world slow down and become calmer, not just because people drove more carefully. Given that they were already past the first advent, it did not surprise Arthur, yet he enjoyed the soft atmosphere of it all.

Almost all of Oxford had become quiet like this. Most students had returned home for the holidays, some earlier, some later. The few that had remained spent their time either holed up in their dorms or apartments with blankets and warm thoughts, or in the campus library as they prepared for their last exams of the year.

Personally, Arthur was part of neither group. He didn't have the option of going home, at least he didn't unless he planned on wasting the train fare and spending his Christmas all alone in his family home. With all four sons spread out across the UK, Mr and Mrs Kirkland had taken the chance to spend December on their first couple's vacation in 30 years - the first time since Arthur's oldest brother, Alistor, had been born.

As for exams, Arthur, being done with his degree by several years, didn't have to worry about that. Not even work required any special effort of him these days. There wasn't much of anything left for him to do, leaving him not only calm for the holidays, but also bored out of his mind.

The presents for his family were currently distributed between Amazon fulfilment centres all over the country, just waiting to be delivered to him only to then be sent away once more. He'd made Christmas cookies, prepared whatever ingredients he already knew he'd need for his Christmas dinner, he'd even gone as far as to develop his annual hatred for Michael Bublé and Mariah Carey a week early. And thus all that was truly left for him to do in preparation for Christmas was the one holiday activity he loathed with all his heart.

Decorating.

Now, no matter how his hatred for certain annually returning artists and all things decorating might make it seem, Arthur did by no means dislike the holidays themselves. Fine, he was the proud owner of a Grinch pullover and he had been compared to the character on numerous occasions, but at the end of the day he loved it as much as anyone. No, it was just the decorating that he despised.

He hated hanging up the lights out in the cold, fiddling with knotted cables as his fingers slowly but surely turned into popsicles. Hated poking himself on holly leaves and other needlessly prickly evergreens in the process of making a wreath for his front door, all because the ones at the store were either too expensive or too flashy for his taste.

The thing Arthur Kirkland hated most of all about decorating, however, was not his electricity bill, the flashiness of it all or even the various cuts all over his hands in the aftermath. No, it was a man - Alfred F. Jones.

Jones inhabited the other half of the duplex Arthur lived in. It should have been simple, a good neighbour relationship, some small-talk across the stupid little fence between their halves of the tiny spot of grass that had been advertised as a garden, and perhaps even sharing recipes for Christmas cookies.

It wasn't simple, though.

Jones, who'd moved to England for reasons unbeknownst to his neighbour, was not only the personification of the stereotypical loudmouthed American, he also loved Christmas decorations with all his heart. And so, the exact same way it had been for the four years they'd spent living in this arrangement, on the first of December he'd pulled out box upon box of lights, inflatables, garlands, wreaths, anything and everything that was even vaguely related to Christmas.

And just like every year since Jones had first moved here four years ago, Arthur had put his hatred for all things tacky and decoration-y aside and decided that, no matter the popsicle fingers and bandaid usage, he couldn't let Jones succeed in making Arthur's half of the duplex seem unfestive, not to mention making the rest of the street think neither of them had class in decorating.

☆ • ☆ • ☆

December 4 - Second Advent

They were only four days into December and Jones was already in full Christmas mode. It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas was blasting from speakers that Arthur would have paid millions to locate, just so he could throw them out of the nearest window. Three more weeks until Christmas, and already Arthur's chronic hate for the voice of a certain Canadian four-time Grammy-winner had resurfaced.

Cheerful, off-key whistling sounded from outside, no matter the fact it was 7 am on a Sunday. Through bleary eyes and half-closed curtains Arthur looked outside, only to find Jones busily hanging all sorts of rainbow lights of the poor shrubbery on his half of the garden. Tiredness be damned, it took Arthur all of four minutes to get dressed and grab his own crate of holiday lights.

Outside he was awaited by frosty air, a grey sky and a neighbour that might as well have been a paid actor to advertise for some string-light company. Arthur had misjudged the amount of work Jones had already done: not only his shrubs but also the wall of his half of the house as well as the fence were decorated with all sorts of lights; a net across the wall, a garland at the edge of the small awning over the door, small light-arches all along the edge of his garden.

"Mornin', Kirkland!" he called. "Finally made it out to decorate? I gotta say, your half's gonna look like the home of the Grinch if you don't do something!"

Arthur didn't reply, simply returned a muttered, "Morning," as he pulled on the end of the first string of lights he could reach. Curse Jones and his stupid, over the top decorations, his loudness, his music, his everything. With furrowed brows and both hands in a huge, tangled ball of cables and lights he glanced out from beneath his messy bangs.

His neighbour was currently bent over some small reindeer figurine, fiddling with cables and antlers and whatever else got in his way. It was almost involuntarily that Arthur let his gaze wander across the other's body - entirely Jones' fault too, how dare he bend over and stick his ass out in Arthur's direction. Clad in only one of what had been proven to be a full collection of ugly Christmas sweaters (this one saying "It's the most wonderful time for a beer") Jones looked like the perfect fusion of a holiday card and a frat boy.

"Need some help back there, Arthur?" he asked at that moment. "I know getting festive is hard for you, considering how much of a Scrooge you are!"

Arthur grit his teeth and tried to keep from replying. If he just ignored Jones and concentrated on his decorations instead, the other might stop bothering him. If he was Scrooge, Jones must have been the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, for he was clearly showing Arthur how he'd suffer for the next 3 weeks.

"Lest you forget, Ebenezer Scrooge is just as festive as anybody else after the arrival of the three ghosts," Arthur retorted. "Then again, Americans aren't exactly known for their literacy, are they?"

The words passed his lips before he could stop himself, and with a small curse Arthur tugged on what had to be the end of a third string of lights, given how he was already holding the ends of two different ones. He knew it was stupid to get into this with Jones, simply because the other was as stubborn as he was prideful as he was loud.

"Pff, so you're telling me all I have to do to get you to be likeable is keep you up all night?" Jones gave him a bright grin and wiggling eyebrows, and as though his violation of Dickens' novel had not been bad enough, the fact that he had somehow managed to turn it into an atrocious pick-up line was somehow far worse.

"I- Uh! I'm gay!" Arthur blurted out, and even Bublé shut up. Mostly because the song was over, but probably also because of how sudden a confession that had been.

Arthur's cheeks were about as red as the stripes on a candy cane, and as George Michael took up the place that had opened up in the absence of Michael Bublé, Arthur decided he'd have to become a hermit somewhere in Antarctica.

Not only could his words not have been any further from the matter at hand - how his sexuality related to Dickens, he'd never know - but also he had just proclaimed his gayness to Alfred Jones of all people.

Jones burst into bright, bell-like laughter, but perhaps that was just the Christmas mood speaking from Arthur's brain.

With a frown Arthur returned his attention to the bundle of cables and small lightbulbs before him, somehow producing yet another end, but still not one string of detangled fairy lights. Had he packed those damn things by cutting them up?

Alfred turned around to face Arthur - a pity, really, his ass had been a welcome view considering how annoying that mouth of his was - and looked at him with a raised brow. "Trust me dude, I know. You're wearing skinny jeans, eyeliner and black nail polish. I know."

"You're confusing punk and gay, Jones," he commented wryly, before focusing on the stupid lights once more. Finally, he produced the end of the first string. With a steady hand and attention to detail, Arthur began wrapping the string all around the two pillars seaming his entryway, making sure the lights were both evenly spaced and well-fixed to the columns.

After about fifteen more minutes of various Christmas songs and even more sleigh bells, Arthur's entryway had begun looking at least partially festive. The only thing missing was the evergreen garland to go around the top and hide any cable mess he might have left behind. He glanced over at the neighbouring garden, coming to find Alfred had placed not one or two, but eleven more reindeer next to and behind the first one.

Of course. In true Jones fashion he wasn't just putting up a single one, but a whole sleigh setup.

"What, jealous of my reindeer, Kirkland?" Alfred asked with a grin, as he connected the individual figures with smaller cables. "I can give you a carrot, too."

"I'm not jealous of anything," Arthur retorted, not even addressing the "joke". Great. All of twenty minutes had passed, and already Jones was belittling him for his sexuality. "And even if I was, it sure as hell wouldn't be some tacky reindeer decorations."

"Oh, you're totally jealous."

Arthur let out a small huff and turned back to his garland, pulling out a small roll of twine. With the plastic greenery looped over his shoulder and the twine in his right hand, he began cutting off small pieces of string, careful to leave them long enough to fix the stupid garland. This would have been easier with a helping hand or two, but not only did Arthur live alone, he'd also rather fall off the chair he was standing on than ask Jones for help.

With the power of spite and a general disdain towards appearing weak, especially in front of Jones, Arthur made it eventually. The garland hung from perfectly spaced hooks in small arcs, little lamps glowing amongst its faux foliage. As it was, only the entrance to his half of the duplex was decorated, not the entirety of the garden and house.

Arthur would yet have to prepare the wreath for his front door, not to mention the various decorations for his windows and front lawn, but at least he'd gotten part of the work done, without injury no less. On the other half of the property, however, it appeared as though Santa Claus himself had thrown up all over the garden.

A small sleigh complete with twelve reindeer and a Santa sat diagonally across the lawn, multicoloured fairy lights wrapped all around shrubs and trees and whatever else Jones had been able to reach. A net of lights hung all along his wall, each and every square inch of surface was adorned with lights and glitter.

"Amazing, isn't it?" His neighbour asked at that moment. "I just can't wait for the other stuff to arrive, this is going to be so cool!"

"The... The other stuff?"

Jones turned to face him, gleaming just as much as his garden. It looked as though he had tried to put up landing lights for Santa - too bad the old man's parking spot was already occupied by the glowing sleigh. At this rate he'd only need to elongate his driveway a little more and he could put Heathrow Airport out of business.

"Of course! Did you seriously think I was done?"

Did Arthur think that? No. Had he hoped? Yes.

Jones began counting on his fingers as he listed off what was apparently missing, as Arthur struggled to imagine even one of the decorations finding a free spot on the lawn. "I'm still waiting for the inflatable Santa, the Santa for the window, the glowing ladder, the third Santa, the 6-foot candy canes, and about 100 more feet of lights! Oh, wait, I forgot about the-"

Arthur slowly tuned out as his mind was instead occupied by the entirely horrific picture of what the house would look like once Jones was done decorating his half. And as Bing Crosby sang about a white Christmas, he began silently making a list of what he'd have to buy by next weekend.

☆ • ☆ • ☆

December 11 - Third Advent

The packages had arrived on time, in both halves of Holyoake Road number 32. The morning of the third out of four advent Sundays began the same way the last had: a Christmas playlist in 32B, a cheerful neighbour, and Arthur almost falling out of his bed to the blared tunes of Bruce Springsteen's Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.

With a rather un-Christmas-like wish to commit homicide, Arthur crawled out of bed and, after a quick wash, began gathering what decorations had amassed over the past week. A whole Saturday's worth of work still sat on his kitchen table - a wreath of holly and noble fir, yet another amazingly prickly evergreen, as Arthur had come to discover.

Hands still covered in bandaids (at least he wouldn't need gloves this week), he tore his coat off the hook on the door and exchanged loafers for some worn out winter boots that had seen better days. Twelve packages and another wave of curses later, Arthur was outside in the biting cold, already regretting his decision of not putting on gloves.

"Hey neighbour! Finally dropped out of bed?"

Jones was already at work, not that Arthur hadn't known that before. The sleigh and reindeer had been joined by a snowman at the centre of what little lawn the suburban home offered. Against what Alfred had previously promised, the snowman was not a product of plastic and air pump, but rather real snow, as attested by the thick covering of white powder snow sticking to Jones' gloves.

"Ain't little Frosty over here amazing? He's almost as cold and grumpy as you!" Jones exclaimed with another wave of bright laughter, only countered with an eye roll from Arthur.

"Little Frosty" was only about fifteen centimetres shorter than Arthur, which was to say he was just under 160 cm tall. The snowman was huge, and the thought of how long it must have taken and, by extension, how early Jones must have gotten up to make it, was horrifying.

"At least he's silent," Arthur retorted as he hung the greenery-turned-murder-instrument from his door. "Can't say that about you."

"Well, he's also not as much of a party-pooper as you, so that's a plus! And he can glow!"

"I... What?"

There was some rummaging and the sound of what had to be Jones digging through some snow, then the other man produced a small remote with a cheerful, “A-Ha!” and yet another one of those one thousand megawatt smiles. With furrowed brows Arthur watched on as Jones pressed a button on the remote and the snowman came to life.

Well, not literally, but all of a sudden the body of the snow-giant began glowing in bright red and green, pulsing to the rhythm of the current song - Jingle Bell Rock. He didn't know whether to be impressed or horrified that Jones had taken such amounts of effort onto himself, all for a craft that would quite literally melt away. In the end Arthur decided on a mix of the two.

"Isn't he cool?" Jones beamed.

Arthur stifled a groan before replying, "That's the way snow is, Alfred. He's cool by definition."

Jones didn't reply and instead picked up what Arthur recognised as a super-sized candy cane only far too late. He hadn't been joking the week before, the damn thing truly was six feet tall. The fact alone that half of his neighbour's decorations were either as tall or taller than him horrified Arthur more than he'd like to admit. Was this how all Americans behaved?

As Arthur busied himself with the strings of lights for the conifer on his front lawn, carefully wrapping the thin cables all around the tree, he watched on from the corner of his eye how Jones put up cane after cane. The sound of his rubber mallet echoed through the street, and Arthur was somewhat impressed that he actually stuck to the beat of the song as he hammered each cane down into the thick blanket of snow.

"Dude, you totally missed a spot!"

The call came from much closer than he'd have liked, and when Arthur turned to see what Jones was talking about now, he found his neighbour leaning on the low fence separating their gardens.

"Are you going to explain where, or is that about as helpful as you're going to be?" Arthur asked, caught by surprise when Jones simply leapt across the fence and came to stand beside him at the bottom of the tree.

He pointed at some area vaguely to Arthur's right. "Over here, look! There's no lights there at all!"

Arthur leant over slightly on his step stool, stretching to reach the area Jones was pointing at. He saw it now, too, but somehow he couldn't quite reach it. With renewed effort he stretched some more as he tried to get the string of lights around one of the empty branches, but he was always a couple of inches short.

That was the moment it went south. Jones reached for the cable that Arthur was still holding on to and simply pulled it over some more. He did get the job done and got lights onto the barren part of the tree, but he also succeeded in making Arthur lose his balance.

With a small yelp Arthur slipped off the edge of his stool, and with his hands still clenched around the fairy lights, he tumbled onto the ground. Or well, he would have, if not for something warm, squishy, and groaning beneath him.

He'd landed right on top of Jones. Lord have mercy.

Arthur struggled to push himself up, however, both because of the arm that had been slung protectively around his waist and because of the way the lights had managed to wrap around them. He'd always thought that was just a trope in Hallmark Christmas movies, but apparently Arthur was just as able as the busy businesswoman coming home to her small town for the holidays. Lucky him.

"Damn, are you ok?" Alfred groaned from somewhere far too close to him. When Arthur finally opened his eyes, which he didn't know he'd clenched shut in the first place, he came to discover just how close they were.

He could have counted Jones' eyelashes, if he felt like it, and even without doing that Arthur was close enough to smell the soft scent of chocolate, peppermint and coffee that surrounded him. As if he hadn't been able to be any more clichéd.

Arthur was probably bright red, but between the cables and Alfred's arm there was little to no room for him to escape. "I, uh... Yes. Are you alright?"

"With you in my arms? Always."

Jones gave him a saucy wink, and though Arthur had to admit he was actually surprisingly comfortable like this (with the thick jacket to cushion him even his neighbour could make for a nice pillow), that single comment was enough to make him renew his efforts to escape their entanglement.

"Stop it," he complained, one arm twisted behind himself in an attempt to undo whatever knot they'd managed to get into the string of lights upon falling. Just like Jones' discovery of the remote before, his success was accompanied by a small, “A-Ha!”

Arthur was quick to jump off of Jones after that, eager to escape his hold. At least the cold gave him plausible deniability as for the bright red flush of his cheeks. "Thank you," he muttered, then he returned his attention to the string of lights, newly tangled and most definitely plotting to make his life worse.

With a chuckle Jones swung a leg back over the fence and returned to his half of the property and the half-erected candy canes. "Well, happy to help! Can't have your tree looking as one-sided as British cuisine, can I?"

"Pretty sure an American shouldn't comment about cuisine, considering you don't have any of your own," Arthur commented wryly. Right back to the usual business, good. Just don’t address what happened just now... "Unless diabetes counts as cuisine now?"

Alfred laughed, but didn't reply.

Arthur was still wrapping the cables-turned-matchmaker/murder-weapon around the rows of branches, careful to weave them so they'd withstand the wind, when Jones pulled out what had to be the twentieth string of fairy lights in his garden alone. In his mind Arthur thanked the Lord that this wasn't his electricity bill to pay.

A new box, a new string of lights, a new decoration, a new power strip.

"Do you just live like the Amish all year so you can afford your electricity bill in December, Jones?" he asked as he hung the first of all too many light brown baubles onto the tree. "Or is there government funding from the American embassy specifically for shenanigans like this?"

He glanced over to the other half of the property, absentmindedly noticing how ten human-sized candy canes now seamed the small path leading up to Jones' porch and front door. Two of the striped pillars were already wrapped in lights, the rest of the string still in his neighbour's hands.

"Man, I wish!" he laughed. "But don't worry, just living as old-timey as you is enough to keep my bills low."

Arthur's expression darkened, but he kept silent as he went on hanging ornaments on the branches of his tree. He remained that way, minding his business in an attempt at ignoring the Christmas faire that was his neighbour's lawn and house, but when Jones opened the last of the packages on his porch - most definitely large enough to fit Arthur - any attempts at goodwill ended.

"You cannot seriously plan to put that up," he said.

"Of course I can, dummy! Why else would I buy it?"

Alfred was as cheerful and innocent as he was grating Arthur's nerves, and for a second the Brit found himself contemplating whether he should just throw down his baubles and pick up snowballs instead. Perhaps some snow to the face would wake Jones up to how obnoxiously flashy and tasteless his half of the duplex looked.

In the end he didn't, but instead watched on in a state of powerlessness as Alfred Jones, menace to polite society and American extraordinaire, pulled a life-sized Santa, complete with a string-ladder and a huge sack of gifts, out of the package.

"You cannot be serious," he repeated, but Jones had already set up a ladder at the edge of his roof.

Three years of this, and each year he was horrified anew by the sheer amount of time and money Alfred was willing to spend on his Christmas decoration. Less than ten percent of the year, and yet he did enough to compete in some entirely unnecessary and likely American-dominated championship over the worst, most over-the-top decorations.

Arthur did not stick around to wait until he had fixed Santa, including his rope ladder, to his roof. Jesus had been crucified just before Easter, he did not need to watch Santa being hanged on Christmas.

☆ • ☆ • ☆

December 18 - Fourth Advent

The fourth advent had proven to be a deviation from the norm Alfred Frighteningly-Festive Jones had established over the past two weeks. Unlike the weekends before, he had not started his routine of decoration, Christmas playlist and bafflingly cheery attitude until late in the afternoon.

Arthur knew the reason for that too - considering how loud his neighbour's Christmas party the night before had been, it wouldn't surprise him if Jones had spent his morning and noon both cleaning and dealing with a splitting headache. He might have felt pity, had his head not also been screaming at him - going by the half empty bottle of scotch on his dining room table Arthur had made an attempt at helping himself fall asleep.

As it was, Bing Crosby only began singing at half past 5, in the light of Christmas decorations as the sun had already gone down - how Arthur hated winter. Headache be damned, he was not ready to give in to the fact he'd had to accustom to every year before this - that Jones had decorated his house more and that, no matter Arthur's classier decorations, the duplex still looked like a mess because of that fact.

Regardless, Arthur still gathered the last of his own decorations. Whether it truly made sense to put up decorations one week before Christmas, well, perhaps not, but he'd be damned if Jones outdid him. He might have done so already, but nonetheless Arthur was more than reluctant to give up. And so he left his part of the house once more, armed with gloves, the last 30 feet of fairy lights, and some small glowing arches to seam his own pathway.

Outside he was welcomed the same way as each of the past weeks. "Hey Arthur, welcome to the land of the living! And here I thought you'd slept in last week, damn!"

He didn't reply and instead crouched down right by his front door, getting out the first of the arches. They were small, and even now Arthur could envision himself kneeling here some time past nine, still hammering in the decorations. The influence Jones had over his actions was equally scary and annoying to Arthur.

Nonetheless he went to work, switching back and forth between red and green arches to place them in an alternating pattern. Whether that was just his own view of things or not, to Arthur it still looked more discreet and tasteful than the rainbow madness that was going on in 32B.

"So, tell me, Jones," he began eventually, figuring that after all the comments his neighbour had made about him in the past weeks, he owed Arthur one. "When are you going to put up the flashing lights warnings? At this point I wouldn't be surprised if your house gave somebody a seizure."

"Depends!" the chipper reply sounded from beyond the fence, where Jones was currently setting up a pile of glowing gifts next to the sleigh from two weeks before. "When are you going to set up the "No fun allowed" sign in front of your house? Wouldn't want your Grinch-complex to ruin too many people's moods, right?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and proceeded to add arch after arch to the melody of Little Saint Nick. Whoever had decided that the Beach Boys of all people should make a Christmas song had not only held too much power, but had also been wrong.

After the lights disaster from the week before, things went surprisingly smoothly this time around. Arthur was reluctant to admit that he still felt the weight of Alfred's arm wrapped around him, if he thought about that moment, but other than that it was almost as if he'd never fallen off that damn stool. A small jab here, a witty remark there, all was back to normal. All was good.

Until Alfred pulled it out.

"It" was a large package, as had been every other thing Jones had pulled out into his garden on the past Sundays. Arthur tried acting as though he was focussing on his own decorations, as he instead watched on in something akin to fear what Jones had ordered this time.

He saw red. Something large and red slowly but surely surfaced from amidst packing peanuts and cardboard, here a bit of white and there a bit of black. Arthur stared from behind the fence, not that Jones would have been able to tell, considering the amount of plastic he was holding.

There was some rummaging, the sound of what had to be the ninetieth plug Alfred had pushed into one or the other socket this month. Once more Arthur wondered just how high his neighbour's electric bill had to be. The sound of a switch, then the roar of a pump.

Oh Lord. Of course. Inflatables.

Thinking nothing more of it, Arthur went back to work by the shine of both of their decorations. One thing he had to admit, Alfred's half of the premise was brighter. Then again, unlike Arthur's side it flickered the entire time as each and every part of the garden flashed or changed colours, one bright, bothersome sludge of rainbow colours.

It was completely dark by the time Arthur had set up the last of his arches. With a small sense of pride he watched the decorations flicker to life upon plugging them in. By now Arthur was shivering. The winter cold had slowly seeped into him from the bottom up, starting at his feet and crawling up until he felt like a living popsicle. And he would have called it a night, he really would.

Had it not been for a certain something to his right, namely a more than life-sized Santa-inflatable. Arthur froze, not because of the cold, but simply because there was no way. He couldn't be serious. No. This was it.

Arthur had endured the sleigh, the candy canes, the window decorations, the miles upon miles of fairy lights, the Santa on the roof, hell, he'd endured Frosty, but this... This was too much.

"You can't... You can't seriously mean to put that up." He struggled finding the words as he stared up, emphasis on up, at the inflatable Father Christmas.

"Of course I can! Why else would I have bought it? It can even play Christmas songs, wait, I'll plug it in-"

"Don't. You. Dare."

Just three words, and yet Arthur swore he caught a challenging glint in Alfred's eyes from across the fence. He stepped a little closer, arms folded across his chest.

"What are you gonna do about it, Mr. Scrooge?" Alfred asked with a grin, plug already in hand. "All it takes is one little push and it'll be done!"

Arthur didn't even think, he simply leapt over the low fence between their gardens. Before he knew what he was doing, he was next to Jones, one hand reaching for the cable of that stupid monument to American hyperbole and hubris, the other clenched into a fist. He darted forward in an attempt to get a hold of the cord. "I swear to God, Jones, I'll-"

Before Arthur could finish that sentence or reach the cable, Alfred dodged to the side. While Arthur stumbled and fell into a pile of snow, he spun around with a smirk. "Well? What're you gonna do, Kirkland?"

Arthur growled, bare hands digging into snow as he pushed himself off the ground to lunge at Jones once more with a hoarse yell. They both fell, limbs tangled as they rolled across frozen ground in the battle for the cable. Arthur found himself clawing at whatever he could reach, clothes, hair, anything, hoping he'd somehow get a hold of the cord.

He was doing his best to pin Jones down, but even with all of Arthur's weight on top of him, Alfred began moving once more, dragging himself towards the closest power strip. With a stifled yell Arthur tried once more, finally catching Jones' leg and yanking him back with a harsh pull.

Alfred fell into the snow face first, sputtering and spitting out snow when he resurfaced at last. He was covered in snow from head to toe in much the same way Arthur was.

"It's over, Kirkland!" he exclaimed, and only then did Arthur recognise the power strip in his hand. With a triumphant grin Jones presented the multi socket. "I won!" Alfred yelled with an almost maniacal grin when pushed in the plug, laughing to himself as hundreds of lights flickered to life all at once.

Arthur could only watch on powerlessly as the inflatable came to life, a single glowing spot at the centre of a small front yard in Oxford.

Between the music, the air pump and Jones' laughter, he almost missed it. A brief burst of sorts, a single sound and all of a sudden everything was gone.

Nat King Cole fell mute, the candy canes lost their lustre. The noise from the air pump was gone, the sleigh on the lawn was dark once more. The music, the light, the noise, all was gone. All of a sudden, there was nothing but the dark, quiet cold of winter.

"What... What just happened..?"

Deep down, Arthur wanted to scream. Of course, of course Jones' festive frenzy had resulted in nothing but trouble. In the absence of motion he could feel the cold seep into his skin and bones, burrowing deeper and deeper in his body until he felt like he was about to freeze to death. He was wet and covered in snow all over.

"What do you think just happened?" Arthur snapped, struggling to contain the urge to yell at Jones. "You blew a fuse. We don't have power."

After a brief moment of silence Jones seemed to realise their position. He slowly crawled off of Arthur and got up, dusting himself off. "But we can just put it back in, right?" he asked, almost meekly. Arthur couldn't see his expression, even with the faint glow of the street lights on the other side of the road.

With a groan Arthur rose back to his feet. He could feel the dull ache of the oncoming bruises around his shoulders and hips where he'd hit the ground. And still he was pained more by Jones' sheer endless well of naiveté. Had he not known better, he would have sworn his neighbour was a child.

"We can't," he grit out. Arthur's teeth were chattering. "The fuse box is in the basement, so unless Mrs Smith gave you the key, we can't reach it."

Jones shook his head. Phenomenal.

Somewhere next to him Jones fidgeted. "W-Wait, so we don't have electricity? Like, at all?" Arthur didn't know whether it was just the cold or whether his mind was playing tricks on him, but it seemed like Jones was shaking.

"No," Arthur said curtly. "Now if you'll excuse me, unless you want to spend Christmas this way, I have a phone call to make."

With stiff limbs and numb fingers Arthur returned to the fence, past the torn remnants of a string-light and trampled snow. Now that the adrenaline from before had ebbed off, each and every movement Arthur made felt heavy and sluggish, but perhaps that was just the cold. He struggled getting back across the fence this time.

It was only when Arthur was fiddling with his keys, struggling to find the lock with only the light of his phone flashlight to guide him, that he felt the burn of Jones' stare on the back of his neck.

"What?" The word came out harsher than he'd meant it to, and Arthur could have sworn he caught the other flinching.

"I... Um..." Jones seemed lost, almost intimidated when he replied. He stood in silence, alone in the dark and cold of the last Sunday before Christmas. "Do you have a candle?"

Arthur turned back towards the fence, key stuck in the lock, unturned. "I'm sorry?"

"Do you maybe have a candle I could borrow?" The question felt almost too polite after their struggle in the snow, too silent to fit Jones. "I... Well, I don't have any, and I just really don't like the dark and my phone's almost out of power but I can't go to bed because it's only seven and you know, just..." He trailed off.

Arthur remained quiet for a moment. He already regretted what he was about to say, and yet he couldn't stop himself. "Just... Just come in, Alfred." At last he turned the key, and with a small creak his front door swung open. It took another moment or so, then Alfred began moving again, hurrying over onto Arthur's side and to where he stood.

"Leave your boots by the door," Arthur said. "I don't want melted snow all over my floors."

Guided only by what little light their phones provided, Arthur led Alfred inside. Even after shedding the snow-covered jackets and boots, he felt nothing but cold and wet. Apparently the "100% waterproof" jacket was about as water-resistant as tissue paper. A cold shiver ran down his back, and for a moment Arthur played with the thought of just taking a hot bath - until he remembered Alfred, at least.

He might as well have been glued to Arthur's heels, judging by the way he never left more than four feet between them. Without the thick winter jacket and his boisterous behaviour, he seemed only half as big and imposing as usual. The only thing that didn't fit that image was tonight's ugly Christmas sweater, decorated with the words "Jingle my bells."

For that crime against his eyes alone Arthur should have left him outside.

Nonetheless he guided Alfred into the living room. Arthur quickly began rummaging through one of his cabinets. With his phone in one hand and only one free to actually work through the contents of his drawer, it took Arthur quite a while to find at least one candle. He'd just discovered a second one when Jones bumped into him. With a small sound of surprise from Alfred and a curse from Arthur the candle dropped to the ground.

"Oh shi- I'm sorry Arthur, wait, I'll-"

He crouched down to get the candle, only to hit his head on the drawer on the way back up. With a hand pressed to the back of his head he stood, handing Arthur the candle.

"Are you ok?" Arthur asked, but Alfred only nodded. Well, he moved his head at least, Arthur couldn't see much more. Unless he pointed the flashlight right at him, that vague movement was all he got for a reply.

At last Arthur found a lighter amongst the clutter of his drawer. When the first wick finally caught fire, Alfred relaxed visibly next to him. He handed the other the first candle, already working on lighting a second one for himself.

"Thank you, Arthur," Alfred muttered, his hands clenched tightly around the small jar.

"You're welcome." Another flicker of his lighter, another small flame as Arthur lit the second candle. With another glance at the old, already half-burnt candle in his hand he set some extras out on the side.

He turned Alfred around by his shoulder, carefully directing him in the direction of his living room. Arthur made a point to ignore the way he flinched. This was awkward enough as it was.

"I'll call Mrs Smith, just wait here," he said eventually.

Without another glance Arthur retreated to the kitchen, already dialing his landlady's number.

☆ • ☆ • ☆

"She's in London."

Alfred tore his eyes away from the little flame dancing in the glass. "What was that?" he asked after a moment. "I'm so-sorry, I didn't notice you coming back in."

Arthur let out a small sigh, taking a seat opposite to Alfred at the dining room table. He carefully set down the candle he'd been holding.

"She's in London, visiting her family. With the snow and the traffic jam on the M25 it'll take her a good three hours, at the very least..."

"There's a traff-"

"There's always a traffic jam on the M25."

Even with nothing but the flickering candle flame to illuminate him, Arthur could see the way Alfred's expression fell. The faint light had helped him ease up somewhat, but he was still shivering. He'd wrapped his arms tightly around himself, fingers trembling ever so slightly.

Arthur rose from his seat once more. Even now, back in the comfort of his own home, he was freezing. Arthur was cold enough to freeze to his chair. "Do you want me to light another candle?" he asked gently, hoping to coax some sort of reaction out of the other.

Annoying as he might've been, at that moment Alfred looked like a picture of misery. For a second he felt sorry for yelling at him earlier, but then the second passed and Arthur remembered that they wouldn't be in this situation without Alfred.

As though he'd read his mind Alfred spoke up. "I'm s-sorry, Arthur..." he muttered. "I really fucked up this t-time, huh?" He gave him a weak smile, but somehow that only made him look more pitiful. Somehow Arthur did feel sorry this time.

"You did," he replied eventually, earning him a startled glance from Alfred. "But you didn't mean to, right? I know that d-doesn't change the outcome, but..." He trailed off. But what?

Without the music or the sounds of Alfred working outside like on each of the past Sundays, the wordless silence between them became uncomfortably loud. Without the trouble of climbing ladders and falling off them, without the work of hammering in individual arches and decorating whatever else he could reach, the duplex half that had felt so cosy each of the past days suddenly felt ice cold. There was nothing. Nothing beyond that small island of light surrounding the two candles, just Alfred and him.

"I'll... Go get you something f-fresh to wear," he said eventually. "You're p-probably wet all over, too, right? I'll see whether I can-"

A hand closed around his wrist, gentle but cold. "Plea… Please don't leave me alone, Arthur."

Alfred hadn't turned to look at him, in fact he still stared ahead, at the flickering lights of the candles. For a moment Arthur remained still, unsure what to do. It wasn't fair. When those blue eyes met his own, they were soft and pleading in the way they looked at him.

They shouldn't belong to his neighbour with a love for flashing lights and rainbow colours. They shouldn't belong to somebody so loud, tall, bothersome.

It wasn't fair that Alfred looked at him this way.

"I'm sorry Alfred, but I have to-"

All words were gone. Before Arthur could as much as finish his sentence, it had dissolved in his mind. Everything was gone, as with a rough yank on Arthur's wrist, Alfred pulled him into a gentle kiss. The contact lasted a moment, a moment longer, a moment too long. With a gasp Arthur flinched back, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth as he brought some distance between them.

Alfred's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I can-"

"How dare you-" The words died on his lips. Lips Alfred had touched. They'd kissed. No, Alfred had kissed him. How could he just-

"Is this because of t-two weeks ago?" Arthur blurted out. "Is this all a joke to you?"

It took a moment until his words sunk in. Alfred stared at him with wide eyes, wide and open and so bright and blue they might have been the sky over Antarctica. He stared at him, as though it had been Arthur who'd kissed him. He stared at him as though he wasn't in the wrong, as though that stare alone was not infuriating in itself.

"I... What?"

"Is this your idea of a joke?" Arthur asked, and what had been shock seconds ago turned into anger, hurt. "Are you trying to make fun of me for being gay? Is that what this is, Jones?"

Alfred looked as though he'd been burnt. He flinched back with each of Arthur's words, mouth agape in wordless silence as he realised what Arthur meant. The way he stared at him was almost one of betrayal, and for just a moment Arthur would have loved nothing more than to wipe that stupid expression off his face.

"What? No! No, I didn't-" Alfred cut himself off. Arthur raised a brow, gesturing for him to proceed. "Look, I- I don't care whether you're gay! F-Fuck, I'm not straight either, ok? It's just-" He wrung his hands, wordless once more.

I'm not straight either.

Arthur shook his head, pushing aside the echo of that sentence. He didn't want to think about what it meant, what it could mean for what had just happened. He didn't want to think about what had happened just now, at all. He was too cold to think.

"T-Take off your sweater," he said eventually. Against his will, his ire had died down as quickly as it had come. He felt no more than resignation and tiredness. Resignation, tiredness, and the cold that had been seeping through his clothes and skin and down into his bones.

It was only when he noticed the way Alfred looked at him, that he realised what he'd just said. There he went again, staring at him with those stupidly innocent eyes, cheeks bright red. With a slight stammer Arthur added, "I- Shit, not like... I just don't want you to catch a cold, ok?"

Though his blush didn't fade, not that it could have this quickly, the baffled expression left Alfred's face. "O-Oh," was all he got out. He rose from his chair and reached for the hem of his jumper, and with Arthur's eyes still on him, he halted, let his arms sink once more.

Arthur raised a brow as he watched on for another moment. Alfred stayed still. "Is something the matter?" he asked at last.

"I... Um... Aren't you going to turn around?" The question was tentative. "I... I don't have anything on beneath the sweater, so- You d-don't have to lend me anything, just like-" That faint red colour had returned to Alfred's face stronger than ever, and this time Arthur was sure it wasn't just the cold.

"Ah, shi- Sorry, I should have thought of that. I'll see whether I can find something for you."

Somehow it felt like he was fleeing, when Arthur left. He knew he wasn't, knew that this was his own home, but the thought proved too persistent to push away just yet.

When he returned at last, armed with an old, positively gigantic hoodie, Arthur was still as cold as he'd been before. He'd changed, too; everything down to his socks had been wet. The fresh clothes were dry, but even with the thick, fluffy jumper and fuzzy socks he was shivering.

Back downstairs, he was awaited by nothing but the lonely flicker of the first candle. That, and the bare back it illuminated. Alfred must have heard him, too, because at that very moment he spun around. Somehow Arthur didn't mind too much, however, not with the way the candle highlighted his bare chest.

He couldn't help but trace along the even plains of Alfred's chest and farther down to his abdomen. With the faint, soft lighting of the candles and what little light streamed in through the cracks in his blinds, it almost seemed as though his chest was glistening. Maybe it was some of the water from his soaked jumper or maybe Arthur was simply starved for a view like this one. 2022 hadn't proven to be all that successful in terms of dating, at least not for him.

Whichever one it was, it took a moment for him to realise that Alfred had caught him staring, then his mind caught up at last. "I, um... I found a hoodie you can wear, I think that should fit. I also have a pair of sweats, but I'm not sure whether those will..." Arthur trailed off, perhaps because of the look Alfred gave him. Shock, yes, but also something that reminded Arthur of how he had to be staring at Alfred just then. "D-Didn't you- I thought you didn't want me to see-"

Somehow words had become hard. At last the tension snapped and Arthur regained control over himself, dropping the clothes and spinning around. This is just a guy's body, nothing you haven't seen before, he told himself, but somehow that proved to be rather uneffective.

There was some rustling, the sound of Alfred's soaked trousers hitting the floor, then more rustling. Another moment passed, then Alfred spoke up from behind him. "You can t-turn around now."

If he was honest, Arthur was almost disappointed when he did. Not only was Alfred’s chest covered once more, the hoodie and sweatpants were also loose enough to leave just about everything to the imagination. He shook his head slightly in an attempt to push that thought aside. What was even going on inside his mind?

At least Alfred saved him from having to say something first, a small comfort. "Damn dude, how c-come your half is so cold?" he asked between shuddering breaths, rubbing his hands together. "Was I the only one to g-g-get a heater?"

Arthur let out a small laugh, tried to behave as though he wasn't freezing his arse off just as much. "S-Sorry, I turned it down to reduce heating costs," he replied. He failed, he was stammering the same way Alfred was. He really should turn up the heat.

"Yeah, you're right, what's a few f-fingers, if you can reduce the c-c-cost..." Alfred replied, but with chattering teeth and trembling fingers the snark of his reply was lost. "J-Just listen to me! C-can't even make a joke effectively in this f-freezer of an apartment!"

"Guess that's a sign you shouldn't c-complain as much," Arthur joked, even as he reached for one of the blankets on his couch. "I've got some blankets, we can't do much like this, anyway."

He was halfway over to the small, two-seater couch at the centre of his living room when he turned around once more. "Oh, and Alfred? Watch out for the coffee-"

There was a thud, then a hissed curse as something dropped to the ground.

"...table." Arthur set his candle down on the offender, coming to find Alfred just behind him, a stream of various, none-too-festive curses on his lips as he clutched his shin. "Are you alright?" he asked, and though he tried, Arthur failed miserably at holding back his laughter.

"C-Can it, Kirkland," Alfred grit out between chattering teeth. "First you try to make me freeze to death, and now you try assassinating me!"

"I'd be a great assassin, wouldn't I," Arthur mused with a grin. "First one to have a confirmed kill with a coffee table."

Cold or not, Alfred made another attempt to glare at him. Too bad he failed in the face of Arthur's amusement, breaking out into bright laughter himself.

"Come here," Arthur said eventually. "Let's make sure I don't freeze you solid by accident."

Alfred grumbled more to himself as he placed his candle next to Arthur's, some muttered words that sounded suspiciously like "Is it really an accident at this point?" He slid into the big, worn out cushions, flinching when he sank into the cool fabric.

"Did you expect me to pre-heat my sofa?" Arthur joked as he shook out the small throw blanket he kept by the sofa. With a last shivering breath he crawled into the spot right next to Alfred, spreading the cuddly fleece blanket right over them.

Almost instantly Alfred scooted over, leaving an inch of distance between them. "Gah, why are you so cold!? Dude, just because I'm freezing doesn't mean you can make me even colder!"

With a rough yank Arthur pulled the blanket back towards himself, stealing back what Alfred had taken and then some. "I might be warmer, if you didn't steal the blanket," he hissed, but even so Arthur found himself inching back towards the other. Annoying or not, Alfred was still warmer than his couch and the blanket combined. After a moment's consideration he pulled his feet up onto the sofa, too, tucking them into the blanket. Way better.

"That doesn't justify stealing it from me!" Alfred whined, but he slid back over, until their hips and shoulders touched. "Stupid tiny blanket..." he muttered.

Arthur raised a brow but said nothing, simply giving the blanket the tiniest bit of slack, so Alfred could have a bit more. That's what he got for being so buff, Arthur thought, more surface area that needed to be covered by the blanket.

Buff or not, Alfred did the same as him and pulled his feet up onto the sofa, wrapping his arms tightly around his legs as they sat there in silence.

Arthur looked over for a moment, finding him watching the flame of his candle, the same way he'd done before. The way the candlelight danced across his face, softly illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw and reflecting in his eyes, it drew him in in a way Arthur had never noticed before. He spotted the soft dusting of pink on Alfred's cheeks, the way the corner of his mouth quirked upwards ever so slightly.

"Are you just going to stare at me until Mrs Smith comes?"

Almost instantly Arthur turned away, but of course it was too late. Alfred had caught him staring, as though being this close wasn't bad enough. He could smell that stupid aroma of chocolate, peppermint and coffee once more; just like last week Alfred smelled of Christmas and comfort and stuff Arthur shouldn't know because he shouldn't know what his neighbour smelled like. But here he was.

Shit.

"Oh, uh, I-"

All his life people had told Arthur how quick-witted he was, but at that moment he was all out of ideas on how to get out of this. His eyes stuck to one of the two candles. That's right. As long as he just looked at the candle, Alfred wouldn't notice, he might even forget that he'd stared at hi-

"You know that's not a reply, right?" Alfred asked, and even without looking Arthur could just see the smirk playing around his lips.

"I was just... Um... Thinking about whether a different position might be warmer..?" Arthur hated the doubt in his voice, but at least he'd finally come up with a reply. A bad one, not to mention an excuse Alfred would never believe, but at least he'd tried.

"Oh?"

Of course he'd ask. Shit.

"Well, you know, if you... If we... cuddled, basically? It would save blanket space and-"

"Just say it, Arthur," Alfred said from somewhere beside him, far too close to him. He had to be smiling like that again, and some part of Arthur, most likely his pride, simply couldn't bear the way he was laughing at him. "You want to spoon, don't you?"

Arthur wanted to slap him, he really did. He would have loved to just spin around and slap him, or at least give him a piece of his mind or something, but no, he remained silent.

With a quick movement the blanket was gone, so was Alfred. He scooted back on the sofa, until his back was pressed against the armrest of the sofa. He spread his legs somewhat, leaving a free spot between them. A free spot for Arthur.

"So, wanna test your theory?" he asked with a grin.

Arthur surely was just as red as the stupid fleece blanket, but nonetheless he slid back on the cushions, until he was nestled in between Alfred's legs, his chest to Arthur's back and his arms around him. Alfred carefully draped the blanket around them once more, creating a fluffy cocoon and simultaneously trapping Arthur.

Awkward or not, he had been right - this was far warmer than it had been before. Nonetheless Arthur's face was burning, and even if Alfred hadn't noticed (yet), the thought that a bit of closeness could make him blush like this was humiliating in its own right. At least he could blame it on the cold.

They sat in silence for a little while. There was something calming about this, the gentle flicker of the candles and the way his body was slowly warming back up after being exposed to the winter cold for so long.

"I'm sorry, Arthur."

The words tore him from his thoughts, entirely out of nowhere. Arthur turned around as best he could with the way they sat, but he could only see part of Alfred's face. If he was honest, he saw even less because of the darkness. Eventually, after accepting that he wouldn't be able to meet Alfred's eyes without also breaking his neck in the process, he replied.

"I already told you, Alfred, you didn't know it would blow the fuse, and it's not like it's unfixable, so-"

"That's not what I meant." He was quiet, barely above a whisper. Alfred had tensed up ever so slightly as he spoke. The thought of being able to feel something as minute as this made some unknown feeling spread inside of Arthur, but nonetheless he was worried.

"What are you talking about, then?" Arthur asked, unsure what type of response he was expecting. What was he even hoping for?

"I'm sorry for kissing you."

Oh.

"I shouldn't have done it so suddenly, and I'm sorry for that. I just... Well..."

Arthur didn't know what to say. On one hand he could feel the anger from before returning, running hot and fast within his veins, but on the other hand the apology left him defenceless all the same.

"I... It's just... I've been crushing on you for a while."

Arthur's thoughts screeched to a grinding halt. "What?"

"I like you, Arthur. I know this sounds stupid, especially after what happened earlier, but-"

"Wait. Just wait a second-" Arthur pulled away the blanket and left his - admittedly very comfortable - spot between Alfred's legs to instead sit opposite of him, finally meeting his eyes. The blanket lay discarded between the both of them, leaving him exposed to the cold once more. But Arthur couldn't think, didn't even notice. He just barely caught the way Alfred reached out, as though to pull him back in, either. "You..." he started. "You like me?"

"I... That's what I'm trying to say, yes." Alfred looked almost apologetic. He looked at him with such gentle eyes, and though Arthur was still trying to gather his thoughts, just trying to regain his ability to think at all, those eyes occupied his mind all the same.

"How can you just... How long?"

Alfred was staring at his hands, almost as though he expected to find the answer to Arthur's question somewhere on the back of them. Maybe he had written it down somewhere on there and Arthur was just underestimating him.

At last Alfred broke the silence. "Just over two years now," he admitted. "I know it sounds stupid, but when I saw you just... mumbling to yourself in that fuzzy Grinch sweater and old man slippers as you put up the garland outside one Christmas, it just clicked I guess."

Arthur wanted to be serious, confused, shocked, all that, but he couldn't help but snort. "Out of all the times we've met," he laughed. "Out of all of that, you fell for me while I was cussing up a storm in an ugly sweater?"

"Not quite Hallmark-worthy, huh?" Alfred asked with a soft smile.

"Well, we did do the stringlight-tango, so if you reveal you're secretly the prince of some unknown magical kingdom in Central Europe we should be fine."

"Does central Virginia count?" Alfred asked, making both of them laugh.

Arthur tilted his head, feigning deep thought. "Well, depends on how you sell it. Maybe if you put on some strange accent..?"

Alfred gave him a gentle nudge, forcing him to focus on the topic once more. "Still," he insisted, "are you not going to, well, reply?" The silence returned, thick enough to cut as Alfred watched his every move. "I... I guess your response after the kiss was clear enough, but... I just want to hear you say it. Is that selfish?"

"Alfred..." The words got caught in Arthur's throat. He could only imagine what he looked like right then. Next to Alfred he had to look small, and with the way he looked at him, pleading almost... Arthur had to look nothing short of miserable. Pitiful.

"I guess that settles it..." Alfred's expression fell. Where Arthur had wondered whether he looked miserable, Alfred truly did. Any brightness from a moment ago was snuffed out like a candle's flame, total darkness in but a breath. "Shit. I really should have waited another two hours to ask, shouldn't I?"

"I just never knew..." Arthur tried once more. It felt like words were running from him, as though with every word he said, the others ran farther, slipping from his grasp and disappearing altogether. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Confusion - the way Alfred looked at him, furrowed brows and tight lips, as though to ask what he meant. "But... I've been trying to do that this whole time? I've been flirting so much over the past weeks! And I've tried to get your attention with the lights every year, and-"

"Oh God..."

The words were less than a whisper, almost inaudible as Arthur realised what Alfred was referring to. The stupid pick-up lines. The looks. The smiles. He'd been so incredibly dense.

"Yeah... I'm sorry, I should have realised you weren't..."

"Oh my God, I'm- I'm so sorry Alfred," Arthur said at last. "I... I thought you were making fun of me, I never- I'm so stupid, how..."

He buried his face in his hands, dropping back onto the sofa as his face burned in shame. Him and his brothers had always been joking about how dense Alistor was when it came to his partner, but it seemed that it ran in the family. Arthur wanted to scream.

"Wait, so you didn't reject me?"

Alfred had perked up almost immediately. He was leaning over Arthur, which was only slightly complicated by the fact that Arthur still had his legs kicked up onto the sofa, meaning he was more or less resting his stomach on Arthur's knees. Somewhere at the back of his mind Arthur noticed how firm his abdomen felt, not that this should have been his main interest just then.

"No," Arthur groaned from behind his hands. How could he ever have been so...? "I can't believe I never noticed..."

"So... What is it? What do you say?" He looked at him with those bright eyes again, excited, but also worried ever so slightly. It seemed like each and every one of Alfred's expressions was mirrored on his face the second he felt them, with no filter whatsoever.

Arthur bit his lip, trying to find the right words. He was interested, yes, but... "I think I'd need to know more about you, to say that," he admitted at last.

Almost instantly that expression of excitement dropped. Arthur hadn't rejected him, but even he knew that what he'd said wasn't much better than that. Still he asked, "What's your favourite Christmas movie?"

"Huh? What are you trying to do?"

"I want to know more about you," Arthur replied. With a small smile he insisted, "So, what is it?"

For a moment Alfred stared at him almost bewilderedly, then he chuckled. "Well, if you ask me like that..." he started. He tilted his head slightly in thought. "I'd have to say The Polar Express."

"Wait, isn't that the one with the strange animation?" Arthur asked between his laughs. "The kids looked so uncanny to me!"

Alfred crossed his arms, and with a small pout he retorted, "It's about the nostalgia, not the quality." He poked Arthur, but only succeeded in making him laugh harder. "If mine's so strange, what's your favourite, hm?" he questioned.

"Love Actually, always has been," he replied without another thought. Upon seeing Alfred's confused expression he added, "It's a romantic comedy, but it's just really sweet over all. Great actors, too."

"I don't think I know that one," Alfred admitted.

"Guess we'll have to watch it together some time," Arthur smiled. With Alfred back to sitting across from him, he sat back up, and crossed his legs. As he draped the blanket across both their laps once more, he asked: "Okay, next one. What's your favourite genre of music?"

This time Alfred was quicker with his reply, "Good ol' rock for sure. You can't beat Queen, and Led Zeppelin or Guns n' Roses are just classics. And that isn't even mentioning the Ramones!" Alfred seemed to glow when he replied; all of a sudden his excitement was back. It was nice to see him this happy again, after he'd been in various states of worry or doubt for half of the evening. "So? What's Mr "You're-confusing-punk-and-gay" listening to, when he isn't complaining about my choices in Christmas songs?"

"If you answer your own question, what am I meant to say?" Arthur laughed. "I'm into punk and alternative for the most part. The Sex Pistols and The Clash are unbeatable, but I can definitely get behind liking the Ramones. Recently I've been more into Muse though, their new album is simply incredible."

Alfred had been listening attentively, and though Arthur felt his eyes on him, he wasn't staring at him like before. It was gentler now, in a way he couldn't quite put into words. "You know," Alfred mused, "I already knew you like punk stuff, but there's something about you talking about it while wearing some fluffy sweater that's just really funny to me. Like a bunny with a knife."

"Better watch out, I have knives, too," Arthur retorted with furrowed brows, eliciting a wave of laughter from Alfred.

"Pff, if you say so..." he laughed. "Speaking of danger, though... My turn: if you could have any super power, what would you choose?"

Arthur took a moment to consider, one hand beneath his chin as he did. He wasn't into superheroes all that much, if he was honest, so it wasn't something he could answer right off the bat. Nonetheless, if he didn't want to go with some sort of magical power, what was there that he'd pick?

"Probability manipulation," he answered at last.

"What? That's so lame!" Alfred laughed. "Dude, you could pick flight! Or laser vision! Or super strength! I'd totally take super strength, if I had to choose. Way cooler, and I could help people! Save them from getting squished by a bus and stuff!"

There was something cute about Alfred's excitement, but nonetheless Arthur couldn't help but defend himself. "Well, if you think about it, probability manipulation is way stronger though! What's the probability I have super speed? Well, I could tweak it and do a quick trip over to Buckingham Palace!"

Alfred puffed out his cheeks. "That's cheating, though! Where's the limitations on that?" he asked.

Arthur laughed, giving the other a small nudge. With an overly dramatic flailing of his arms Alfred tumbled back into a pile of throw pillows at the corner of the sofa, pulling the blanket along with him.

"I totally thought your power would be invisibility. Or sneaking. Oh, or maybe illusions!" Alfred said as he pushed himself off the pillows to rest against the armrest of the sofa, half-leaning as he watched Arthur.

"Why that?" Arthur asked with furrowed brows.

Alfred gave him a brilliant smile. "Well, you stole my heart, so you have to have some sort of power, right?"

Against his will, Arthur felt his cheeks flush a bright red. He didn't want to admit it, but stupid as it was, the line had done wonders at making his heart stumble in its pace. Stupid sap.

"Idiot," he muttered, but he knew damn well that he couldn't sell the insult. Curses. "New question," Arthur said. "What's your ideal date?"

"You go first," Alfred retorted almost instantly.

Arthur didn't bother questioning him and instead answered his own question. "A trip to the city, walking around together and just talking, before ultimately having tea or dinner together. I want to get to know the other person. What about you, then?"

"My perfect date would be a trip to the city and just spending time with them, walking around and talking, before ultimately having tea or dinner together."

"You know, this isn't an exam, you don't have to copy my answer. You can tell me, if you don't have one," Arthur said with a small roll of his eyes, even as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, but I had an answer!" Alfred defended himself. "My ideal date is whatever you want to do."

Arthur bit his lip, turned away as he tried to ignore just what Alfred's stupidly adorable replies did to his heartbeat. How dare he have such an easy time at making his heart skip?

He wanted payback.

"Alright, last question," Arthur said.

Their eyes met again, and somewhere at the back of his mind Arthur noticed the slight flush on Alfred's face. At least he wasn't entirely unbothered.

"Can I have another kiss?"

"I- uh..."

Got him.

With a soft smile Arthur leant in, and while Alfred still tried to save that almost suave façade he'd put up before, Arthur reached for the collar of his jumper, pulling him in just a little more, until their lips met.

Unlike before it was gentle and slow this time, and though Alfred had stiffened initially, he quickly melted into the touch of Arthur's lips. Strong arms came up to wrap around Arthur's back, keeping him close as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss ever so slightly.

They broke apart breathing heavily, clinging to one another as though only they could ground each other. When their eyes met, it felt almost magical. Alfred's pupils were dilated, his lips parted just barely as he looked at Arthur.

In the soft light of the candles his eyes gleamed like gems; the wetness of his lips glistened enticingly. "Another," Alfred said breathily, and instead of replying Arthur simply pulled him in once more.

He didn't allow for Alfred to kiss him so sweetly again, tilting his head almost immediately and deepening their kiss. Arthur shifted to wrap his arms around Alfred's neck loosely, tangling one hand in his hair as he forced him ever closer. He could feel Alfred's hands at the small of his back, and as their movements grew more eager, more greedy, the heat of his touch slowly burnt Arthur up.

With Alfred's hands to steady him, Arthur straddled him, hovering above his thighs as he pressed a small kiss to his jaw. The blanket they'd shared had long since fallen to the floor, but even without it Arthur felt a steady heat building up just underneath his skin wherever Alfred's skin touched his own.

Arthur smiled when he caught Alfred's eyes closing, leaving another kiss right below his last. Alfred's grip around him tightened just barely, just enough to dig into his skin. He traced a couple more kisses along Alfred's jawline, before ending his path with a small peck on the lips.

"Do you want more?" he whispered against Alfred's lips.

A low growl was all the reply Arthur got, then Alfred caught his chin in a tight grip as he recaptured his lips in a hungry kiss.

"Didn't you say..." Alfred rasped between uneven breaths, "that you wouldn't ask... any more questions?"

With Arthur's arms still around his neck Alfred shifted his focus to Arthur's neck, lavishing him with attention as he left a myriad of nips and bites all across the unblemished skin of his neck and collarbone. His hands roamed freely along Arthur's torso, across his back and along his sides until they finally reached the hem of his jumper.

Gentle fingers snuck underneath the folds of thick fabric, drawing a soft keen from Arthur's lips as they danced across his ribcage and along his spine. Each touch raised goosebumps all over his cold skin as newly warmed fingertips traced every inch of his skin. He could not help the silent moan that escaped him when Alfred's thumb grazed one of his nipples.

At last Alfred pulled off Arthur's jumper, baring him to not only the cool air surrounding them, but also to the burning heat of Alfred's gaze. It felt like cheating, to unwrap his present more than a week before Christmas day. Somehow Arthur didn't mind, though, not when his present was so lovely, so beautiful in every way.

For just a moment they remained like that - with him straddling Alfred, whose eyes raked across his skin as though to memorise each and every square inch. With gentle touches he caressed Arthur's chest, running his fingers down along his breast bone and farther yet, until he reached the hem of Arthur's sweatpants.

Alfred halted for a near eternal second, half-lidded eyes hungering after a half-naked man, tracing Arthur's every part. He felt the burn of those dark blues on his face and his chest, following the curves of his body as the flickering light of the candles outlined them in ever-changing schemes, unsteady spectres for Alfred to discover anew with every passing moment.

With his hands still on the waistband of Arthur's sweats, his lips on a small, sensitive spot just beneath his jaw, Alfred muttered but four words, "Do you want more?"

Arthur held on to Alfred's shoulders and lowered down farther onto his lap, to the point he could feel the bulge in Alfred's pants pressing against his own. With his head thrown back in a breathless moan Arthur ground his hips against Alfred's, as Alfred suckled on the spot he'd just kissed. A sharp hiss escaped the other, and Arthur replied, "No more questions."

His words didn't leave any room for discussion or question, not when he'd finally closed that pesky gap between them, bucking his hips at a fast, uneven pace. Neither of them cared for the lack of a rhythm - not when Alfred's hands tangled in his hair, when Arthur's hands clawed at whatever parts of Alfred's shoulders and back he could reach, when his every move drew a litany of those desperate, pleading sounds from the other.

"Take off your top," he said, ordered, and Alfred complied wordlessly. Neither of them minded the tone, the fire beneath their skin burnt to brightly to spare even a thought. Funny, Arthur thought to himself, first I get him clothes and now I make him undress him all over again.

It didn't matter either way. The instant the fabric fell Arthur's hands were roaming that bare, strong chest he'd only caught glimpses of before, feeling the frantic rise and fall with each deep, gasping breath, the frenzied beat of Alfred's heart, the smoothness of his skin.

Before Alfred could react, Arthur pushed him back onto the pillows with one hand on his chest, the other on Alfred's thigh as he rolled his hips in a particularly slow motion. A low, unconstrained groan broke from Alfred's lips, raw with need, emotion, hunger. "Hold still for me..." Arthur crooned, and as he found Alfred so willingly submitting to him, bare chest beneath his spread fingers, he could see a fraction of what Alfred must have seen staring at him.

Sharply cut muscles and soft, even skin fought a relentless battle across the expanse of his chest, from his sculpted pecs to the plains of his abdomen and farther down yet to the spot where a fine line of hair disappeared beneath the waistband of his underwear. On either side of Arthur's splayed fingers the other's nipples stood hard and sensitive in the cold air, pleading for his touch as much as Alfred himself.

He stared at Arthur with longing eyes, pupils blown wide and lips parted just barely. Sweat beaded on his forehead, condensation fogged up parts of his glasses. Carefully Arthur reached for the obtrusive frame, setting it down on the table beside them before leaning in for another kiss.

"More," Alfred gasped, demanded, and who was Arthur to deny him whatever he wanted? He claimed his lips in a rough kiss, all tongue and teeth and tension. With gentle nips and bites Arthur coaxed ever more of those sweet sounds from Alfred - music much nicer than any Christmas song. The soft whimpers and whines paid him back for every bit of painful pleasure that Arthur lavished upon him, sent spikes of white-hot arousal through his veins and to his groin.

Another languid roll of his hips, and Alfred was gasping for air. Hands grasped at nothing and everything, at skin and at clothing, as Arthur's slow yet rough, gentle yet hungry pace sent them spiralling ever closer to that edge. Each breath was a breath too much, a moment too long spent apart when they could have been kissing, touching, feeling one another.

Only the strength of Alfred's grip around his wrist tore Arthur back out of that haze of heat and hunger. "Arthur-" he gasped in between ragged breaths. "Need you t- Ah! touch me-"

Perhaps Arthur was teasing too much, perhaps his mind had been lost to the sudden delicious desire that filled his every breath, his entire body, his skin and bone. But at that moment, with Alfred so defenceless beneath him, greedy and at his mercy all the same, he only raked his fingers down his chest, trailing red lines in his wake.

Alfred's breath got caught in his throat, but Arthur simply traced his hand lower yet, across his abdomen and beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, and the hitch in his breath became a breathless moan. A single gasp of "Fuck-" passed Alfred's lips, but all words were lost when Arthur curled his fingers around his erection at last.

Alfred's cock burnt against his skin, hot and hard, just as much as him. He gave it a first, slow stroke, and as he swiped his thumb across the head of Alfred's cock Arthur could not help but marvel at the entirely reverent look on his face. Head thrown back in ecstasy and eyes clenched shut, lips parted and neck covered in the marks Arthur had left there.

Nary a thought passed Arthur's mind; the heat smouldering underneath his skin and throughout all of his body had become too much to bear. One hand around Alfred's cock, one on his shoulder, Arthur moved just an inch closer.

They closed that gap one more time, a heated tangle of lips and tongues. With every movement of Arthur's hand around that most sensitive part of Alfred, a new moan spilled from his lips. Arthur built his pace up gradually, coaxing all sorts of sweet sounds from Alfred.

"Beautiful," he muttered in between their kisses, "Just-"

All of a sudden he felt Alfred's hand moving down the front of his own pants. Whatever he'd meant to say turned into a sharp hiss, then a moan. Arthur tried to object, say something about how he wanted to give Alfred a gift first, but Alfred just pulled him closer and wrapped his hands around both of their cocks.

It was hot, tight, and for a moment Arthur couldn't tell whether he was in heaven or hell. The touch of Alfred's hand on his oversensitive flesh was torturous with the way it clenched around both of them, and yet it was so unbearably good, so blissful it made him see stars.

Each movement of Alfred's hand had him spiralling, and soon enough Arthur found himself clinging to the other as he lost himself to that feeling of utter bliss. He was close. The heady scent of sex and sweat filled his nostrils with every laboured breath he took and Arthur felt each frantic beat of his heart all throughout his body, from his chest to his fingertips and down to his feet.

"Alfred, I'm-" he gasped but no more could pass his lips when Alfred sealed them with his own so easily.

With his eyes clenched shut and his hips bucking against the rhythm of Alfred's hand Arthur knelt there, unable to form a coherent thought. His whole body was abuzz with those unbearable sensations, vibrating through his veins until all of him was humming with the electricity of their arousal.

Arthur was on fire as lust swept over him like a tsunami, sparking when all he needed to ground him was the tender feeling of Alfred's lips on his own. One last twist of Alfred's hand, and with a gasp and a soundless scream Arthur came, spilling over Alfred's hands as he followed shortly after.

He was little more than a boneless heap on top of Alfred. Arthur couldn't have cared less about how he was spreading their combined mess all over himself, he was too exhausted to care. His mind was sluggish, and he didn't mind.

After a moment an arm wrapped around him, a comforting weight on his back as Arthur rested against a broad, warm chest. With a small, displeased hum he scooted a tad closer, until he could feel that warmth all around him. Way better.

"You know…" Alfred began after a moment, "I didn't think I'd kiss you, be rejected, confess, kiss and then frot with you, all in that order and in a single day."

"Call it a Christmas miracle," Arthur muttered against his chest, eliciting a small laugh from Alfred. It was nice when he laughed, a soft sound from deep inside his chest. Arthur could feel it from where his head rested.

Another moment passed, and with a hand stroking his back and another carding through his ruffled hair, Arthur might have just fallen asleep, had Alfred not spoken up once more.

"Speaking of Christmas," he said. "I know we're a week early, but… Does this count as a white Christmas, Arthur?"

It took a moment for the question to sink in, another for Arthur to comprehend the sheer idiocy of the pun. He snapped back up, and with a small push against Alfred's chest and loud laughter from the offender, he exclaimed: "You unromantic oaf!"

Too bad that Arthur couldn't help but laugh himself.

Rolling his eyes, he crawled off the sofa and off Alfred. With another look at the various stains on Alfred's and his own (or rather: just his own) clothes he grabbed the discarded hoodies and his own sweatpants, walking back towards the stairs.

"Undress," he said, "You've got stains, too. I'll be right back, I should still have something that fits you."

This time around Arthur took a bit longer to come back downstairs, maybe also because of a rather large stain on his abdomen that he had to clean off, but when he came back at last, he found something was off.

Namely, that Alfred stood by the (sadly fake) fireplace, naked as the day God had created him.

Or well, not naked, that was the issue. He was wearing a stocking, a single, bright green stocking far too large to fit him.

A Christmas stocking.

A stocking that said Arthur on it in elegant cursive.

Arthur's Christmas stocking.

He halted in his tracks.

"What are you doing, Alfred?" he asked, deadpanned, and somehow he found himself reminded of Frosty. This just had to be another stupid idea. He didn't even know the idea yet, but-

"Well, presents go into the stocking, right?" Alfred beamed. "I simply put yours in."

Against his will Arthur flushed, and unfortunately he didn't know whether Alfred had seen or not. His only solace was that the bundle of socks he threw at Alfred did hit its mark.

Served him right.

#writing #usukus #fanfiction #hws america #hws england #hws hetalia #usuk #nsft

[voidedjuice]

You mentioned gods. What were they like? How did they disappear? Is it set in a modern city? Sorry if this is too many questions but your answer made me more curious.

Ok so this is going to end up being really, ungodly long so sorry about that. I happen to have an absurd amount of lore thought up about this stuff and there's really no way to condense it down to a reasonable lenght without losing a lot of context so you'll have to bear with me unfortunately

I'll put this under the cut so that it doesn't clog up people's feeds

In my oc project universes, gods are usually either beings born from the void, around whom the worlds structure themselves, or people from other worlds, who happened to find their way into a newborn world while traversing the void. (The void being like, a vast emptiness surrounding the different worlds/separating them from each othe. There are various beings living in the void whose job it is to either take care of the worlds or destroy them when necessary.) Sometimes there are multiple gods or varying origins ruling over one universe, as was the case in Ilta's world until it became afflicted with rot to a point where the aforementioned voidbeings had to come destroy it. The people at the time didn't really take kindly to this, and after a lot of effort they were able to create resetters, people who weren't capable of dying via normal means, to fight said voidbeings (Ilta's first reincarnation being one of them). The gods of their world were also all afflicted with the rot, and were content having their world end, seeing it as part of its natural lifecycle. As such they had to go, and were also killed by the resetters. Eventually, after a long fight, a way to stop the rot/make sure the world couldn't end was found and the attack from the voidbeings stopped, and as a cautionary mechanism the resetter's powers and some other stuff would keep on being passed down to their reincarnations. Deities usually work to keep their worlds working stably and without too many aberrations/weird stuff leaking in from the void. Because of this, worlds with them don't usually have things like time travel (compromises the stability of the fabric of time), anomalies (type of existential scrambling that can have varying effects depending on the type. Causes a person's existence to defy the laws of physics, for example by allowing/requiring them to only live off of the blood of other people/allow them to manipulate reality/cause their existence to overlap with that of another creature, leading to unpredictable transformations between the two), etc. They often have to work pretty hard to maintain this stability, and their task becomes more complicated the older the world becomes. Also, because the worlds they rule over don't usually really have any proper processes for what to do with their existences after they die, they oftentimes end up just kind of lingering about after death with most of their power stripped and their existences scattered around oddly.

(finally) The setting is sort of modernish but there's some differences. There already having been a pretty advanced civilisations means that the second one didn't really have resources like oil for themselves, and so tecnological advances have either been slower of have happened very differently. Visually they're living sorta in the mid-1900s maybe? (I'm not very good at drawing backgrounds so I haven't really thought about anything other than the way people dress :'))

Also, no need to worry about asking too many questions, I'm happy to ramble about this stuff anytime! Sorry if the earlier long ramble was confusing/didn't answer your questions well, I got kind of sidetracked a bunch of times

#oc lore #oc #asks #the 'there was a prior technologically advanced civilisation that got destroyed in an apocalyptic event'-thing is #maybe a bit inspired by honkai but i hope its different enough to not come off as a ripoff

[hag-darling]

DnD was SO FUN. Long post incoming! (Edited to add a Read More.)

The artificer (me) joined the already formed party who had been doing various hijinks in Waterdeep when we were hired to "get rid of" a ship by whatever means deemed necessary, the ship in question being an airship, which was already incredible. The rogue was excited to steal the ship for ourselves, so we went along with that plan instead of just... blowing it up.

After breaking into a building, killing a bunch of what end up being mordrem guarding the place, and passing by some living magical experiments in giant test tubes, the group made it's way to the ship, which was currently completely unmanned and inexplicably without a ship's wheel.

After discovering what was supposed to be the captain's quarters, there was just a throne. The bard called forth his duck friend to sit in the throne (nothing happened). The artificer did so instead... only to be bombarded with holograms and screens floating in front of her face in languages she didn't understand, while her vision split between the screens and the view from above and around the ship itself. And then shit went down.

As she tried to figure out what was happening, she tried to see if she could possibly move the ship, with it lurching enough to alarm the group for them to start chopping off the ropes connecting it to the tower it was just slightly attached to... when ANOTHER ship appeared from behind, with a figure at the helm of it shouting at us "GIVE ME BACK MY SHIP!".

AND SO WE FUCKING BOOK IT. Artificer has no fucking clue what she is doing and has at this point flew into a clock tower and was now flying low through the streets as she tries to gain control. Monk, rogue, and barbarian are trying to fire the ballistas that require 3 people to handle. The enemy ship is firing their ballistas and blasts us with a fucking cannon (taking out a SIGNIFICANT chunk of our ship's health).

Artificer slowly starts to understand how the ship works, and is able to see where the ship is damaged and by what, and also astral project herself onto other parts of the ship to yell out orders. One of them being "THERE'S A FUCKING FIRE ON THE LOWER DECK, DEAL WITH IT NOW."

Eventually, after sustaining more damage and the rest of the group dealing damage to the enemy ship, the artificer gains enough control to start moving out of the city and towards the sea. She suddenly sees a map of various destinations to "jump" to in the projections, and picks one in a haste.

And we are now floating in front of a planet, a DIFFERENT planet, one that is in the shape of a disc, no lights, and covered in dense jungle. And that's where the session ended.

And just. HOOOOLY fuck. That was fun.

#IM THE SPELLJAMMER! ME! IM SO EXCITED #zach (the dm) also played the most hype music once shit went down and we got so fuuucking excited #zach also had lots of 3d peinted terrain and minis prepares which definitely upped the hype #we have tiny ship models for when we are on huge maps ;w; #bachuqq blabs #long post #dnd blabbing

[bigwandsdevlogs]

She gets organized

More updates because I've been MIA. I finally organized the notion page for the game

The art style section does have proper citations and stuff for where I got those pictures when you open the cards.

Look at this beauty

And I have one for the other game too:

I watched a bunch of videos about what other people use and I just could not bear having yet another program I constantly reach for, so I cobbled this together from the notes taking database I use, the GTD database I set up, and the various GDDs I watched videos about. I already had a page for each game, but no idea how I would need to structure them so they were a hot mess. I would start a list, then realize I needed a different list front and center, but there was still important stuff on the first list, so I didn't want to just delete it. It was the perfect encapsulation of my history with notebooks and agendas. Start one, realize I should have set it up differently, move on to a new one. The great thing about setting it up like this rather than a static list though, is that it pretty seamlessly works with the way I bounce from project to project when inspiration strikes. I just update the status and I don't have to look at a screen cluttered with notes from the last project. And when I go back I know at a glance where I left off and why I stopped, since I added a "stuck" status for things that will require more research and problem solving that I have the capacity for at that moment.

#notion #productivity

[thesidewalksurgeons]

The First Sprint

Sprint recap-

This first sprint was very fun for our team, we collected a lot of data and we each went our own ways in terms of coming up with research. We would share our findings and sometimes we would help each other in finding specific pieces of information. We all split up and decided to focus on different areas of research such as, who to call to get the sidewalk fixed, who the owner of the sidewalk was, what do people think of the sidewalk, Dalton observed people walking down Cathedral PL to get the full experience, we even explored other possibilities in case we can't get the city to fix the sidewalk. We did various forms of research such as interviews, Reddit posts, emails, and polls.

I decided to focus on what people thought of the sidewalk. I wanted to know if people cared in the first place about the condition of the sidewalk. I made a Reddit post and posted it to the VCU community on Reddit. In this subreddit I asked people if they were bothered by the conditions of this specific sidewalk and if they have had trouble walking through it on their daily routines. I got a mix of responses, some cared, some didn't, but it was exactly what I wanted, I wanted to know how people felt. There were a couple of people that shared their stories on the trouble they've gone through while walking on this sidewalk, which was very entertaining to read. In addition, some people commented some resources under the post which helped our team out a lot as well, so it was overall a great experience and research tool. Like I mentioned in class, I interview a couple of friends to get their opinions and experiences. I also got to interview the president of the catholic housing that is right in front of the church. He gave me some valuable information as well about how long the sidewalk has been in these awful conditions. Below are a couple of responses that I received.

What is next for us?

After discussing with the team we have decided that we want to go out and make our voices heard. We plan on going to the church and asking if they can do anything about the sidewalk, if they are the ones that own it, or if they would like to join our cause. We will go as a team and hopefully it goes well!

Reflection-

I learned a lot from this first sprint, mainly being that working in a team is a lot of fun and a lot less stressful than if I were to be doing all of this by myself. I think it is so interesting to see it all tie together and to share ideas with each other. I also learned that with every ambitious project there is going to be obstacles or things that may require you to steer a different way than the one you anticipated. I saw this not only in my team, but in other teams as well and I think it is an interesting part of the process, it says a lot about you as a person. As for my own personal findings, I found that I am a bit scared to talk to people because I do not want to feel like I am bothering them. I had this feeling come up when I wanted to interview people. I did get rejected by one resident that lives right in front of this sidewalk, and I felt a little awkward. I think it gives me some anxiety to be honest but it is necessary to face these feelings and just move on. I am thankful to the people I did get to talk to and to the people on Reddit of course. Something else I found is that I really like team work, I like hearing what everyone else is doing and what their own process looks like. Overall, I am enjoying the project and I am excited for what comes next.