#circular chess

[ghost-shepherdess]

found out that there's a new chess craze going on right when im learning how to play circular chess / Byzantine chess.... very fun

#in my highschool it was common to play chess simply bc we had a giant board on the floor of the entrance #think the pieces were knee height maybe? #now learning circular chess is soooo fun i really want to add scenes of people playing it in my manuscripts hehe

[atlaculture]

Cultural Practices: Pai Sho - The Game

I'm honestly a little embarrassed it took me this long to get to this topic! As always, credit goes to @atla-lore-archive for saving all the neat ATLA tidbits and concept art from the old Nick website.

Pai Sho (牌數), meaning "several game pieces" in Chinese, takes inspiration from a few different table games:

Its most obvious influence is the German game Sternhalma, known in the English-speaking world as Chinese Checkers. Like Chinese Checkers, the game is played on a circular board.

The lines on the board and the circular tiles are reminiscent of Xiàng​qí (象棋), known in the English-speaking world as Chinese Chess. The pieces often being positioned on the intersection of lines is also very similar to Chinese Chess.

The game's four player limit and visually creative tiles are reminiscent of Mahjong (麻将), China's most famous tile game. In particular, the iconic white lotus tile appears to draw heavily from the classic Mahjong one-dot tile.

Finally, the name Pai Sho was likely inspired by Pai Gow (牌九), meaning "nine game pieces" in Cantonese--- which is both a domino game and a style of poker.

Just like ATLA's animals, it seems that Pai Sho is a fusion of different real life sources. In the next posts, I'll be covering the symbolism and cultural significance behind each Pai Sho tile shown in ATLA.

Like what I’m doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^

https://ko-fi.com/atlaculture

#atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #cultural practices #water tribe #earth kingdom #fire nation #air nomads

[halemerry]

Okay so I wanna take a moment to talk about gravity. Now I know what this sounds like, but bare with me here I promise I'm not looking to do a physics lecture. But I've been rotating this around in my head for a couple days now and I think there's something really critical in the way the show presents it to us.

For example: it's one of the few things actually listed in our introduction to this show individually while our protagonists build the universe, right between matter and everything else.

The show draws our attention to it here fairly bluntly by naming it but there are other incidents that, while I would not call them subtle, are not quite as on the nose.

There are at least three times Crowley chucks something he's holding in his hands across the room. They're played for comedic bits but they all feel very weird and pointed to me - especially both times he does this to books that he seems to have no purpose for holding other than to chuck them later. It caught my attention mostly because everything in me recoiled at the idea of him doing that, but the more I thought about the way they're so visible and pointed was important. They almost feel like weird hiccups in the scene they're in.

We also get gravity as an implied threat with Gabriel climbing out the window and, of course, with every mention of a Fall. But there's also more mundane uses of gravity in the season that while not odd in isolation, the fact we get it popping up so notably is interesting to me. There's also the scene with Nina and Maggie under the awning where rainwater's weight gets pulled down by gravity, the scene in 1941 where Aziraphale drops the picture of them onto the floor before they have their gray area talk, Gabriel dropping the matchbox, and I'm sure there's more. The point is the show is littered with reminders that gravity exists.

Now I know what this sounds like. I know it seems like yeah. Duh. They're on earth. Which has gravity. Of course gravity is a factor in nearly every physical action they do. Why are you even talking about this at all?

Well, it's because of a scene that is one of my absolute favorites in the whole season: the Gravity Lesson.

The scene opens with Jim throwing a book (My Best Games of Chess, an interesting title that feels pointed) repetitively at a desk. He's testing gravity himself, looking confused.

Crowley then descends from the upper level, carrying a stack of books. He pauses his descent on the spiral staircase and notes what Jim is doing.

Then we get this shot. Notice the light here. Jim is in the light from the windows but relatively in the middle of the shot. He's an angel still, though not nearly as in the Light as he was as Gabriel. And he's notably at ground level, on earth. Meanwhile Crowley blends into the shadows of the shop itself. He continues down the staircase, sauntering vaguely downward, until he finally hits earth level to be even with Jim. There's symbolism here, in the lighting, in the way they move through these frames, in the way the staircase spirals like an orbit.

Crowley continues this same sweeping circular pattern to come around the bookshop and place him in front of Jim. Unable to resist a question, even one that wasn't asked out loud, Crowley tells him about gravity. He moves center toward Jim here. A meeting in the middle. This is the first scene we see Crowley interact with Jim in a way anything near amicable. He explains how gravity works. "It's, um... A thing that happens when objects are pulled together. In this case, they're all pulled downwards because Earth is the largest thing around."

As he speaks, Crowley moves away from Jim, toward the back of the bookshop. But he stops very rapidly because Jim goes and asks him why. Crowley frowns to himself. He says he can't remember. He says it seemed like a good idea when they were all talking about it.

He walks back to Jim, giving this question some real thought, and settles on, "So things would stay where you put them, not just drift off." And Jim, backlit by the windows still, kind of frowns and drops the book again and points out. "But it doesn't stay where I put them. It goes down."

When the book hits the table it also visibly does not land precisely over where Jim dropped it either. It settles out of place, bouncing slightly from the force of it. This is what drew my attention to this scene more than anything else.

Because it's interesting isn't it? They're both right in their assessment here. And so much of this story is about people not fitting quite where they're dropped. Aziraphale and Crowley are both caught in Earth's gravity, jostled out of their respective places. The very first shot in the intro sequence emphasizes this idea. Crowley and Aziraphale meet in the middle on earth (where Crowley then says let there be light and lights a flame to guide them going forward).

Gabriel and Beez too fall out of line as soon as they get caught in Earth's gravity. Memories are deleted, but can't entirely escape the gravity of their old home. Memories are added, but you can't predict exactly the way they'll form. Miracles backfire and don't land quite as they're expected. We obey Heaven or Hell as far as we can, but not necessarily exactly as they'd like. These shifts eventually become predictable and eventually we learn we can calculate the odds of how gravity can impact something, but as Jim shows us here a little bit of the drift still happens. In the end it's all just firing bullets at ears and pretend to catch them in our teeth.

And there's viewing this line of thinking from the perspective of God. God who functionally dropped the universe into the gravity of Fate and Choice just to see where it would land.

And then there's the Fly.

As Jim points out here, some things actively resist gravity, at least temporarily. Flies go up. This is very fun, given Beelzebub's arc this season, but I think it's getting at more than just that. Crowley and Jim both pause to watch the fly rise upward, drifting away from Jim and toward the dark half of the shop. Crowley says Jim makes a good point and then shifts into "Right, the plan, Operation: Lovebird."

Given the plot of season 1, I find the use of the word plan here pretty interesting. Especially given that the event that follows this is Crowley trying and failing to get Nina and Maggie to recreate his own meet cute. Like the idea of these two being drawn together will fix everything.

And that got me thinking about Crowley's line at the end of season 1. About what if God planned it that way. What if they're God's own Operation Lovebird. We know that together they can do very powerful things. This whole season starts with them, while trying to keep their power under control and contained, do a miracle so big it could've brought someone back from the dead nearly 25 times. Last season ends with Heaven and Hell thinking they've become something impossible. The Metatron here goes out of his way to separate the two of them like he's afraid of what they're capable of together. And he seems to have successfully managed to do this.

But a Fly can't stay in the air forever. The Fly is always drawn back to Jim. Because not all gravity is about Earth itself. The same way Gabriel's memories are drawn back to him. The same way Beelzebub and Gabriel are drawn to each other in the first place. The same way Aziraphale and Crowley have been described time and time again as drawn in by each other. They're Alpha Centauri. Twin stars orbiting each other. They're constantly going in circles around each other. It's a dance. With the hands touching in the middle. Because that is a gravity too. They complete each other the same way the Fly completes Jim.

So what about choice? Think about the Ball episode. Think about how everyone in the shop is being influenced by some sort of miracle. Their clothes and behavior shift and change and Nina in particular shows us that this is Noticeable. Forcing something in a gravity it doesn't like or want makes it have a hard time settling. It doesn't go quite where you drop it.

And then there's the chat Nina and Maggie have with Crowley. "We're not a game. We're real people," says Maggie. And Crowley tries to argue this saying that they both needed help and they both push back that it is still not his right to meddle with. A game. Like the title My Best Games of Chess. Like the thing we know God has been using as a framing device since season 1. A thing the narrative always has pushed as a bad thing.

Maggie and Nina are choosing to not let beings above them influence their choices. They actively resist being compelled by Aziraphale in the bookshop together because they know what's right. His gravity is not enough to overwhelm their choices. And at the end maybe they're not together but they're working on it. And, maybe, if they do come back together (when they do, according to Maggie) it will be when they are ready and when they are choosing each their free of the constraints of the game or higher power. And that gives me hope that's where we're headed for the Ineffables as well.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #Crowley #Aziraphale #Gabriel #Beelzebub #Maggie #Nina #gravity #I'm going sicko mode and I am Thriving

[disease]

"1926 SILVER CHESS SET ON BOARD WITH WHITE CIRCULAR TABLETOP" MAN RAY // 1940-45 [gelatin silver print | 4 3/5 × 6 1/2"]

#man ray #surrealism #surreal #film photography #modern art #analog #black and white #monochrome #40s #american #photography #u

[impishtubist]

happy birthday, reese <3

For @r33sespieces :) 

---

“Shh, no, you have to be quiet.” 

Sirius pauses outside Harry’s room, cocking his head. Harry’s been holed up in there since shortly after dinner, but Sirius hadn’t thought too much of it. It’s been pissing down all afternoon, and Sirius figured both of them could use a lazy day. For his part, he took a luxurious nap earlier, and the newest book in a romance series he’s been following arrived by owl post this morning. He’s looking forward to curling up with it in front of the fire. If he’s lucky, maybe Harry will come downstairs with his chess set later and ask to play a game together.

There’s a whine from behind the closed door, and then a soft yip. Sirius blinks.

“Hazza,” he says, rapping his knuckles softly on the door, and he hears Harry curse. “Everything alright?”

“Fine!” Harry says quickly. “I’m just--”

He’s interrupted by a loud bark, and Sirius’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline.

“Can I come in?” he asks, and he hears Harry sigh.

“Yeah.” 

Harry’s standing over by the bed, dripping wet and clutching a soaked brown-and-white puppy against his chest. 

“Well, hello,” Sirius says as he steps into the room. “Who’s this?”

“Dunno,” Harry says, cuddling the puppy close and shrinking away when Sirius takes a step forward. Sirius freezes. “Found him out in the garden.” 

“Poor thing,” Sirius says. It’s been miserable outside for two days now. “Can I take a look at him?”

“Why?” Harry asks, instantly suspicious. 

“I just want to make sure he’s okay, that he doesn’t have any injuries or anything like that.” Sirius starts to pull out his wand, but Harry backs away, so he quickly pockets it. “Can we sit down?”

They sit on the circular rug in the middle of Harry’s bedroom, and Harry gently places the puppy in front of him. The puppy shivers, and then takes a few uncertain steps. He’s wobbly, but that seems to be due to how young he is, not any injuries. Sirius puts out his hand, and the puppy sniffs him. His tail wags.

“Aren’t you mad?” Harry asks softly, not meeting Sirius’s eyes.

“I’m not thrilled you snuck a puppy in here without talking to me first,” Sirius says. “But no, Harry, I’m not mad. If you’d told me you’d found him in the garden, I would’ve had you bring him inside, too. We can keep him warm and dry for a night, and then tomorrow we’ll take him to a shelter. Speaking of, can I dry him off? He’s shivering. You as well, kiddo.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Harry nods, and Sirius pulls out his wand. He performs a quick drying spell, and then a cleaning charm, and then casts a heating spell over both Harry and the puppy.

“I bet he’s hungry,” Sirius says. “Why don’t you bring him down to the kitchen, and we can feed him?”

Harry hesitates again, then gathers the puppy in his arms and goes down to the kitchen, Sirius following them. He doesn’t know what exactly is causing Harry’s reluctance, but he has a suspicion. 

He cuts up some leftover chicken for Harry to feed the puppy, and then goes into Remus’s office to gather up the rope toys Moony likes to use, as well as the crate he sometimes curls up in to nap off the Wolfsbane during full moons. Harry eyes the crate warily when Sirius comes back into the kitchen.

“So he’ll have somewhere warm and safe to sleep tonight,” Sirius says. “I doubt he’s house-trained, and sorry mate, but I don’t fancy him pissing all over the house all night.” 

Harry reluctantly nods. “Yeah, okay.” 

The puppy eats and drinks his fill, and then Harry entices him to play with one of the rope toys. Sirius can’t help the smile that touches his lips as he watches them, the puppy having the time of his life and Harry giggling--giggling!--while they play.

The puppy eventually tires himself out and falls asleep curled up in Harry’s lap. 

“There was a dog in the Dursleys’ garden once.” Harry’s not looking at him. He strokes one of the puppy’s ears with a gentle finger. “She was a stray. I brought her scraps from the table whenever Aunt Petunia sent me outside to do chores.” 

Scraps that Harry had probably needed for himself, but he’d split them with a stray instead. His heart ached. “That was really kind of you, Hazza.”

“She was my first friend,” Harry says softly. “My only friend. She lived in the garden for most of the summer, until Dudley found out about her.” 

“Oh, Harry.”

“He and his friends chased her off. Hit her with sticks and threw rocks at her. I never saw her again.” 

“She probably found a home,” Sirius says. “She sounds friendly. I’m sure someone took her in.”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “I hope so.” 

Sirius hears the Floo roar, and then Remus calls out a hello.

“In here, Remus,” he says.

Remus comes into the kitchen, and his eyes widen. “Well, you two were certainly busy today.” 

“Harry found him in the garden,” Sirius says. “The weather’s shite. I don’t see a problem with letting him stay tonight, and then we’ll take him to a shelter tomorrow.”

“Sure, of course we will,” Remus says, sounding amused. 

The puppy wakes himself up with a yawn, and then eyes Remus curiously. He gets out of Harry’s lap and trots over to the other man, sniffing him curiously. Remus holds very still--animals tend to have very strong reactions to him. Either they adore him, or they’re terrified of him. 

The puppy is apparently in the former category, because his tail starts to wag and he lets out a series of happy yips. Remus crouches down to pet him. 

“You’re a handsome fellow, aren’t you,” he says. “Yes, you are. And much better behaved than Padfoot.”

“You hear how he talks to me, Harry?” 

Harry laughs, and Sirius wishes he could bottle the sound. It doesn’t happen enough.

Harry and the puppy are inseparable for the rest of the evening. Remus keeps throwing Sirius significant looks that he tries to ignore. They’re not getting a pet. Hedwig is enough. In the morning, they’ll take the puppy to the nearest shelter, and Sirius will personally make sure he goes to a good home. 

When it comes time for bed, Harry lines the crate with plenty of blankets and sets the puppy inside. He closes the door and locks it, and the puppy immediately begins to whimper.

Harry chews on his bottom lip. “You’re sure he’s going to be alright in there?” 

The puppy whines, and Harry looks distraught. Remus squeezes his shoulder.

“He’ll be fine. He’s got toys and water and soft blankets. He’ll probably make a mess, but that’s alright. That’s what magic is for. He’ll settle down as soon as we all leave him be.” 

***

The puppy cries for an hour after they all retire upstairs. 

Sirius stares at the ceiling. He’s not going to give in and check on the puppy. He’s not. 

“Don’t even think it, Sirius,” Remus murmurs from his side of the bed.

“I’m not,” Sirius says. “It’s just--do you think he’s cold?”

“We gave him blankets and cast a heating charm.” 

“Maybe he’s hurt.”

“You checked him over before bed. He’s perfectly fine.” Remus rolls over and rests his head on Sirius’s chest. “He’ll settle down eventually.”

Remus is right--the puppy does eventually quiet down. Remus’s breathing evens out soon after that, and Sirius quickly follows him into sleep.

Sirius wakes up before dawn, his new normal, and pads downstairs to make some tea. Harry will sleep for at least another couple of hours, and they won’t see Remus until almost noon. 

But when he comes into the kitchen, the first thing he notices is his godson curled up on the floor. The crate is open, and the puppy is nestled in Harry’s arms, also fast asleep. 

“Sirius?” Remus comes up behind him, knuckling his eyes. 

“What are you doing up?” Sirius whispers.

“Needed a piss, and the bed’s cold without you. What--” Remus finally catches sight of Harry and the puppy, and immediately softens. “Oh.” 

“That’s why the puppy stopped whining last night, I bet.” 

“Probably,” Remus says. He wraps his arms around Sirius’s waist and props his chin on Sirius’s shoulder, though he has to stretch to reach it. “You can’t make him go to a shelter.”

“No,” Sirius sighs. “I won’t. Looks like we’ve got a pet, Moons.” 

“Looks like it. Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to write to the Board of Governors,” Sirius says. “I have six weeks to persuade them to add dogs to the list of approved pets for Hogwarts students.”

#i wrote you wolfstar raising harry b/c that's how we first bonded on here #also i tried writing moonseeker blowjobs but failed sorry #imp is writing #wolfstar #wolfstar raising harry #sirius black #remus lupin #harry potter #cw animal neglect #but it's only very brief and then it's animal happiness #also i wrote this before i knew you were getting a puppy lmao

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Ruby: hey Jaune- What on Remnant are you playing.

Jaune: Circular Isometric 5D Chess with Time Travel.

Ruby: What.

Jaune: Circular Chess, in which the board is a circle, Isometric Chess, where the board is 3D and looks like a Qubert game level, where you can have the pieces on any of the three visible side of the level places - so I suppose technically it's not circular, it's an Isometric Spheroid, I suppose - and finally, 5D Chess with time travel, where you can send pieces to previous game states, or take previous games states and make a different play to create a branching timeline. You are also able to send pieces to parallel timeline game states.

Ruby: ...

Ruby: Are you winning?

Jaune: That's a damn good question Ruby.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #rwby shitpost

[starryficsfinishwen]

✧。◟ᴇɴᴄʜᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ — chrome x reader [PGR] [Happy Activation Day Chrome!!]

please don't be in love with someone else

a.n. - sometimes chrome just raghhhhhh. HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHROMEE!! I promise to finish that other fic for you LOL also thank you for being one of my resilient lil construct, my Lucia and Wanshi are happy to be with you <3 mwa mwa (IM SORRY AGAIN IM LATE)

pairing - chrome x f!commandant

words - 7,881 (it's why I took long TvT)

tags/warnings - none. fluff! alcohol is involved yet again! chrome x reader shenanigans. yall up to what happens in the end uwu. non-sexual naked cuddling. cute stuff for chrome because happy activation day!!

The stars seemed to have blessed Babylonia tonight.

A crowded room. A brightly lit, dazzling chandelier. Wine and champagne glasses clinking together. Orchestral music filling the room — this is a sight that those who can afford luxury would generally see in their life. High society placed itself on top of the pedestal, overlooking its body that wore no gold.

Forget the war that raged outside; Babylonia beheld the grandeur of the rich folk for tonight, and the stars had rewarded their presence by granting the brightest evening for them.

Such sight is normal to a Smith. After all, they were always born with a silver spoon, to feed and to be fed by high society, for everyone to see.

But not for Chrome. He always thought this life was never fit for him.

There he is — champagne in hand, forcing laughter and faking smiles to those who are around him. Humanoid legs are already used to the wages of war, yet they trembled under the hours of talking to people that only blur in his M.I.N.D.

He is only here due to his father, Mr. Smith. “For you to be familiar with the people you will work with in the future,” he always said to Chrome, “be on your best attitude. Show them the makings of a true Smith.”

But they only bore him. He would rather be doing things that are mundane in the eyes of high society, such as lounging in the comforts of Strike Hawk's dormitory; dealing with Kamui's antics, helping Wanshi fix his sleeping pod, tasting Camu's dishes...or cleaning the corners of his room, or strolling the walkways of Babylonia, or playing chess with a certain someone...

A scene flashed in his memory — a warm hand reaching out to him, a sweet smile, a soft laugh, and the chessboard with scattered chess pieces in front of him. A scene that happened not too long ago, a memory so fresh that made him flush a light shade of pink. Was it the alcohol? No, usual alcohol would never make a construct drunk, unless...?

“How are you holding up, Chrome?” A familiar voice called out to him.

Mr. Smith. Holding an identical champagne glass in his hand, he looks up to Chrome with an expectant gaze. Chrome straightens, clearing his throat. “Mr. Smith, I am doing well. I have met the people you told me earlier.”

“Glad to know,” He nods, “it's beneficial as a Smith to meet your future prospects. You know that already, Chrome, don't you?”

“I do, Mr. Smith,” Chrome solemnly spoke.

“Other than that, have you seen the Commandants who are invited tonight?” Smith tsked, “they have commendable records. They seem to enjoy tonight's feast before they go back to war once more. Especially Gray Raven's Commandant, hm.”

Chrome's ears perked up. “Gray Raven's Commandant is here tonight?”

He knew the party was for high society, with some specially invited commandants. Yet, Gray Raven's Commandant? He overlooked that part, why didn't he know?

“Yes, it's understandable due to the glory they have brought to Babylonia countless times now.” Smith paused, moving his hand to make a circular motion with his glass, “I've seen them earlier. Now, they are nowhere to be found.”

“Ah,” Chrome slightly faltered, muttering, “a shame.”

“They also seem to blend well with us, I'd say.” Smith hums, taking a sip from his glass now, “they look well with us, even. We should try asking them to join when they retire.”

A particular thought crosses in Chrome's M.I.N.D. — a person wearing a simple dress amongst the crowd yet so vibrant, the same warm hand he saw as she held onto his arm, smiling fondly at him. The very thought that somehow made his heart crumble in a good way —

“Chrome?” Smith asked, causing Chrome to snap back to reality, “are you alright? You look red.”

“I do?” Chrome muttered, “I'm sorry. There must be something wrong with my cooling system after I got injured last battle. I am planning to get a maintenance check once more.”

“Alright then,” waving his hand, Smith nodded, “I'll leave you be. I need to meet with other people.”

“Thank you, Mr. Smith.” Chrome approaches the nearby table tp place his glass, “I will return soon.”

Finally, away from the party, Chrome found himself lingering outside. The garden outside of the hall seems to be the answer to his dilemma, the cool breeze and the artificial night decorated with the authentic stars sparkling above him. He breathes into this sight — once more, a thought that popped into his M.I.N.D.

“The sight may be beautiful in Babylonia,” your voice sent shivers down his spine, “but the ones here on Earth are prettier.”

Bright irises staring at him with a gentle gaze amongst the dark plains, a genuine smile on your lips, “don't you think so, Chrome?”

The memory shook Chrome, his heartbeat skipping. What was it with him lately? Thinking of a particular person that he holds with high regard? It seemed unlike him, the man who only thought of perfection. Battles and tactics are his expertise that makes up his thoughts, yet such stray memories and incredulous scenarios have distracted him since his recent rendezvous with that certain commandant...

His hands tremble. They seem lonely. A small part of him wishes those familiar hands would hold them right now.

Gray Raven's esteemed Commandant. The very thought of her makes Chrome weak. He who should maintain a professional, beneficial relationship with her. Yet, thoughts beyond that relationship seemed to have spawned in his M.I.N.D.

Chrome entertains that thought to no avail. After all, a small part of him wishes he should have seen or heard from you tonight.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star~”

Yes, something like a nursery rhyme that is sung by you. Sometimes, Chrome thinks you drove him insane to the point that he's having hallucinations of you.

“...how I wonder where you are~”

Wait. That voice seems closer and familiar. Surely, he wasn't dreaming. Chrome rushes to the source of the voice.

“up above the world so high,” the voice hiccupped, “like a diamond in the ska-ay~!”

Chrome thinks this sight is one of the best he's ever seen: sitting on the ledge of a fountain, gazing at the water beneath, your sky-blue dress nearly submerged yet you didn't look like she minded; in fact, in your hand was a glass of unfinished wine, and your face seemed too pleased with your antics, a contagious smile written on your face.

Gray Raven Commandant in the flesh. And drunk. (According to Chrome's readings anyway)

“Commandant!” Chrome's voice - shaking? - echoed throughout the garden, making you look, “Over here! What are you doing?”

You finally look at Chrome, your usual bright eyes laced with tiredness and mirth. Upon recognizing the figure that was approaching you, you cheerfully raised your glass to him.

“Hello stranger!!” your shoulders shake with visible joy, “you're hereeee, come on, come on! Join me in watching the fishies~”

Stranger? Perhaps the alcohol fogged your senses. “Fishies?” Curious, Chrome follows where your hand points, to the fountain...devoid of any fish, “I...see?”

Instead of fish, Chrome could recognize that the 'fish' the Commandant referred to are the coins that people must have thrown into the fountain. The reflection brought by the moonlight highlighted with the pattern underneath the fountain must have tricked you into thinking she was talking to fishes. Not wanting to break your delight, Chrome plays along.

“I named that lil' blue fish Lee, because he looks grumpy.” You giggle as you point to a blue-shaded coin, “then that pink one is Liv!”

“That's cute, Commandant,” Chrome chuckles, opting to sit at a considerable distance from you, “who else did you name?”

Lights over the garden seemed ethereal. Haloed with the gentle glow of the skies, the white noise of the party inside the hall, and the mellow laughter of the Commandant — Chrome could easily capture this memory for a lifetime, although you couldn't recognize him. He could try taking away the glass in hand and tell you that you're drunk, but he does not. Instead, he asks more about the 'fishes' you found. And somehow, you went silent.

“Commandant?” Chrome gently pokes the silent Commandant, “are you alright?”

“Mmm,” closing your eyes, you tapped your chin, “stranger, I can't see Chrome...”

The nickname seems to grow on him now. “Well,” he shrugged, “maybe he's sleeping.”

“Fishies never sleep!” opening your eyes just to stare at Chrome, “that's basic knowledge!”

Chrome could finally see you properly: the dress snugly fit you, the train already submerged in the water. Some strands of your hair framed your face perfectly. Alcohol flushed your cheeks in the shade of pink. Irises that still lit brightly amidst the dark, a sight Chrome could never forget. Blinking to come back to reality, Chrome reached out to brush away the strand that was on your lips.

“Some fishes sleep with their eyes open.” Chrome smiled, “but what you said is still, it's true, Commandant is always smart.”

A smug smirk flashed on your lips, arms crossed to assert her amusement, “hm! I told you!”

One of the sleeves fell to your arm as you moved. Flickering to that, Chrome spoke before reaching out to lift it, “Yes, of course. Commandant, are you not cold?”

“Nope!” Somehow filled with a new burst of energy, you drunkenly placed the glass in front of Chrome, making Chrome reel back, before struggling to stand up on the ledge with the heels on. Chrome acts quickly, aiding you by holding your legs for support. “I realized something!”

“Commandant! What are you doing, get down!”

“I need to find Chrome!” you spoke with such reverence, it could make Chrome cry, yet it only made him scared, “he could be drowning!”

Drowning? “Commandant, I know you're smart,” Chrome hesitates, before speaking, “but fishes don't dro-”

“-I know what I'm doing!” you grin at him, rotating your arm as if exercising and exhales, “that's why I'm going to save him from this ocean!”

At that moment, Chrome realizes where he went wrong. “Wait, Commandant, no!”

At least he tried to stop her.

A shivering Commandant is wrapped in Chrome's coat for tonight.

“Are you alright, Commandant?” Chrome spoke as he ran through the streets, “do you still feel cold?”

After the stupid attempt at jumping head-first into the water, Chrome had to save you - even after trying to get away from his hold. Now, you were tightly wrapped in Chrome's coat, carried like a princess in his arms.

Sneezing, you shook your head furiously, “I'm fine, you stranger! Why did you stop me?”

“The waters in Babylonia in the evening get colder. I don't want you to suffer from hypothermia.”

You whine, before sneezing once more. “I was fine! Oh well, I managed to get Chrome though.”

“You managed to- what?”

Fishing out of his hold and the coat, you childishly held out a white and blue-tinted coin. Chrome could only sigh in disbelief.

“Also, put me down, you stranger!” Attempting to wiggle out, you whine more as Chrome tightens his hold on you, the familiar way illuminated by the lights already in sight, “my mama said not to trust strangers!”

“Right,” Chrome laughed, his heart skipping a beat, “don't worry, I'm taking you to Chrome right now.”

Halfway through the run, you drifted off to sleep (and it granted Chrome the opportunity to see you comfortable with your guard down). Finally, they arrived in front of the Smith Estate.

Carefully opening the door, Chrome is met with a comforting silence. Were the cleaning robots still around? He knew his father wouldn't be around until the next day, which meant the robots were the only company. Stepping inside, he finds the place deserted, the faint sound of the Commadant's breathing filling the room. Placing you (not minding the water dripping off of you) to his room on his bed, Chrome rushes to the kitchen.

Still no robots around. Easy to explain and less hassle to explain why a stranger was in his bed. He'll worry about that the next day. Quickly, he grabbed a few pieces of food from the fridge and concocted a hangover drink and water.

Upon returning to his room, Chrome finds you still asleep on his bed. Silently placing the items he brought for you, Chrome wistfully gazes at you.

“you're always taking care of me, Chrome,” you'd say if you were awake, your voice echoes in his M.I.N.D., “I want to return the favor.” (You are now corrupting his thoughts.)

A little stir from you made Chrome snap out of his daydream. Slowly opening your eyes, looking around your surroundings in a daze, Chrome leans down to check on you.

“Commandant,” he softly calls out to you, hand touching yours, “are you awake? Can you sit up?”

“Mmmhm,” rubbing your eyes as you sat up, Chrome aiding you, “where am I...?”

“You're in my room. I will take you back to Gray Raven's headquarters when you've freshened up and rested. Come on, drink some water.”

Your legs dangle on the side of Chrome's bed as you sat up. Your figure, although shivering from the stunt, still seems smaller than him. Chrome reached out to grab the glass of water and hold it out for you, but you only stare at him.

“Commandant?”

“Ch...” you whisper, slowly lifting your cold hands to cup Chrome's cheeks, “Chrome...”

His heart flutters at the call of his name. With a free hand, he caresses the hold on his cheeks. “Commandant?”

“Why are you...hot?”

Chrome's cheeks burn at your touch, he noticed. Was it really the cooling system, or that his growing fondness for the Commandant of another team making him like this?

“The cooling system,” he chose the first option, “I'm trying to get it checked, don't worry.”

“Mmh, Chrome...”

Your innocent, sleepy eyes were looking at him. And you were leaning closer to him. A human instinct, Chrome leans forward as well, until their foreheads touch.

“...Chrome. Why don't you call me by my name?”

It feels expensive. It feels surreal. He wanted to tell her, but the words die in his throat.

“I will only do so, if you wanted me to do it, Commandant.”

“Mmh.” Your breath fans Chrome's own lips, further intensifying the heat in both of your cheeks. “Then, Chrome...”

He closes his eyes. Closer, closer...until you pulled away so abruptly. And then, a warm liquid spilled across his chest.

Chrome's eyes opened. Sometimes, the timings are uncanny.

—

A bathtub full of bubbles, lavender dousing the room with its intoxicating smell. Near the bathtub, Chrome sweats nervously as he stares at the guilty figure sitting on the toilet.

“I'm sorry,” the Commandant, who was usually strong and courageous in the face of danger, shrunk in guilt, voice timid and remorse, “I didn't mean to puke in front of you.”

“It's alright, it's not your fault,” he dismisses it, smiling slightly, “I was planning to get you changed...”

He is already wearing a new set of clothing, compared to you. After that quick nap, you seem sober. But based on Chrome's readings, you are still far from being sober. At least, you recognize him now. Squeaking, you shook your head. “I can't just let it slide. Is there anything I can do for Chrome?”

Kneeling on one knee, Chrome awkwardly pats you. “It's okay, really. Um...”

A reddening blush was on Chrome's cheeks as the words died in his throat. He motions to your soiled clothes, clearing his throat in an attempt to gather his pride.

“Commandant, I am going to...” whispering, “...I'm going to take off your clothes so you can...um, take a bath.”

You stare at him. Blinking tired eyes at him, you slowly nodded. “Okay.”

You turn your back on him, presenting the zipper on your back. For you, it seemed normal (Liv and Lucia are always hands-on whenever you are invited to events like this, so they're seen what's behind those clothes). But Chrome, whose ventilation was now out of place from the possible outcomes running through his head, was shaking and turning into a blushing tomato.

“You can unzip me, Chrome,” you pipped, noticing Chrome's silence, “I can't reach the top.”

A shaky exhale from Chrome. He mutters something you couldn't hear, but could feel the small pressure from his hand holding your hair to the side before resting on your shoulder.

“I will...start unzipping you, Commandant.”

It feels...intimate. The way Chrome held onto the zipper with care, thoughts running wild in his M.I.N.D., dragging it down slowly. You notice it, despite the alcohol fogging your thoughts. The sound of Chrome's nervous breathing, the water dripping from the faucet, the bubbles on the tub — it almost makes you sober.

However, a question seemed to linger on your lips. But before you could ask, Chrome had already unzipped your dress, the sleeves finally down on your shoulders.

“I-I'm done, Commandant.”

You turned to Chrome, a smile on your lips, “Thank you! But...are you...okay...?”

“Yes.”

You weren't that convinced. In front of you, Chrome's hands shook, and his face was in the deepest shade of red. You tilted your head to the side, before shimmying out of your clothes. Yes, still in front of the man who has been nothing but an angel to you.

“I'm done!” You excitedly quipped, standing up, causing the dress to fall to the floor. “where am I going next?”

Seemingly snapping out of his trance, Chrome looks down to pick up your clothes and dashes to the door. He stops by the door frame, his back facing you. “I need to put your clothes in the washer. They'll be ready after you take a bath.”

“Chrome, will-”

But he was already out of the door.

Chrome remembers every part of the laundry process, even without help from the robots. Yet, even though he has loaded up the washing machine (he knows it'll be done in at least 2 hours, clean and fragrant), his hands are still shaking, the memory in the bathroom turning his mind into a haze.

Even when he closed his eyes after he unzipped your dress, or when he heard it drop to the floor, he couldn't help but imagine — how your skin must feel under his touch, soft or smooth; the expanse of your back, would there be goosebumps like when you touch him; would there still be a smile on your face even when you would know about his feelings?

He accidentally slams the door of the washing machine too hard. It's all pointless, really; all he wanted was to show how eager his rapt attention, yet terrified that he may have crossed unwanted boundaries. Maybe he needed some rest. That's right - it has been a long week anyways. Sighing, he leaves to go back to the bathroom, in case you fell back to sleep...

— except, he called it too early.

“Chroooome,” you cried out as you whimpered in the tub, bubbles covering everywhere but your face, “I'm drowning!”

Suffice to say, he wasn't going to be relaxed tonight.

The water was warm.

And so was the hand that you wish you held onto as you dangled your arm on the ledge of the tub, reaching out to Chrome, who sat on the floor. You wanted something - but the golden boy wouldn't budge.

“Join meee,” you pouted, “don't you see I am a lonely girl sitting here so lonely?”

The light of the bathroom casts a glow over Chrome's frame. The sound of the water splashing around, paired with his humming, sends your mind in a close lullaby, you fear you'll only fall asleep at this rate.

“I see you well, Commandant.” He shook his head, “however, I will stay here.”

“Mean.” Huffing, you sunk to the comforts of the bubbling water, feigning annoyance to him “At least I could wash your hair...you said you'd allow me to see you with your hair down...”

“Commandant,” it's a surprise how Chrome could still hold his composure, voice calm and cool, “you are drunk. You are also very dirty, so it's best you wash up now and get dressed in something warm.”

“I'm not drunk!” Exasperatedly raising your hands, you glared at Chrome, “and I can't wash my hair...”

You look at him expectantly, to which he stares back with curiosity. Pointing to your wet hair, you whispered. “I always wondered what it's like to have my hair washed.”

“And?”

“Will you...wash my hair, please, Chrome?”

Crossing his arms, he thinks for a moment. “Will you promise not to do anything stupid?”

“No.”

As he scoots closer to you, you reeled back. Chrome mistook it as something else, when he sees the look on your face.

“...don't tell me you are planning to wash my hair in that.”

“Pardon?”

“Strip!” you pouted, “I get fussy when someone isn't touching me.”

In an instant, you see Chrome's cheeks tint a shade of pink. “Commandant, that sounded...”

“Hurry up,” you yawned, scooting a little closer to the faucet on your legs, “I won't look.”

True to your word, you look elsewhere but wherever Chrome was. Raising your hands high to your face (look how pruned they are, the longer you stay), before the shuffling of clothes and the sound of cautiousness tiptoes its way into the water, beside you. From your peripheral vision, you see two hands reach out to hold your open hands — have these hands looked so lonely until Chrome came?

“Look at you,” he huffs, fingers caressing the pad of your pruned fingers, “you should have been faster.”

You find comfort in this cramped space — the warm water that you're doused in, a familiar body close to yours, a heat that you never realized you've been craving all this time. You crawl; on Chrome's legs, your scent intertwined with the smell of lavender, you hope it rubs on the man beside you. Unknowingly, you crawled further, until your back hits the sturdy structure of Chrome's physique, leaning back to curl up in his chest.

“Can we stay like this?” the words slipped past your mouth, faster than you could have noticed. Without a word, his hands drifted to the expanse of your shoulders, your arms, your clavicle.

His hands rest there, as your body relaxes in his embrace. The subtle, erratic beating of his heart is there, it's not a surprise when yours mirrored his. And you smell the hint of vanilla on his skin, forgetting that he's humanoid in these very small moments. Yet, you breathe into it, the smell lulling you to sleep faster.

“If you want to,” he mutters, “I thought you wanted to rest.”

“I do, but I feel comfortable when there's someone else.”

The quiet snap of the shampoo bottle opens. Along the way, he places his hands over your head, gently massaging the tips of your hair to make the shampoo bubble, to your scalp. Gentle, soft as he held you like this. The way he pours the water over your head, careful enough to not let it reach your eyes. You must smell like lavender now; the scent already sinking into your skin, like how Chrome's warmth was seeping onto your cold ones. His touch felt unreal, it makes you want the world to freeze for a moment and only behold this scenario for a long, long time.

“Commandant,” even his voice was a whisper, movements slowing to a stop, a telltale sign that he's done, and a little emotion was hanging on your chest - annoyance - “finish up washing now. Your hair is done.”

A dissatisfied grunt escaped your lips. Sitting up straight, you turned to him, hands outstretched. “Let me wash your hair too.”

Slightly looking down from your chest, his eyes shot up to meet yours, the blush that was on his cheeks already invading his ears. “N-No. This bath is only for you, Commandant.”

“Pleaseeee,” you dawdled, brushing away the bangs that covered his face, “I want to help you.”

Although hesitant, he lets you anyway; you, crawling to straddle his thighs, reaching out for the shampoo on your right. His eyes were carefully trailing your movement, which made you shrink under his grasp, but you never minded (after all, the both of you are naked in front of each other, what else was the difference?). You mimicked his movements: massaging the scalp, entirely focused on how you moved your hands on him.

“You're so pretty, Chrome...”

“Huh...?”

“I'm drunk but you're still pretty.” you giggled, booping his nose, “in the morning, when I'm sober, I know you'll be prettier.”

You thread your hands into his hair now, forgetting that bubbles should come out, but you're too focused on everything around you, drowsiness coming to catch you.

“Your hair,” you mumbled, aware of his hands placed on your waist, “...it feels really soft.”

“Does it?” He chuckled, eyes closing, “I'm glad you think so, Commandant.”

Commandant. A title you've always worn, but the way he called you that, a gnawing feeling crammed in your chest — with that pretty mouth of his, a stray thought made you think: what would it be like if he were to say your name?

“You never call me by my name.”

Turquoise irises locked with yours. Unable to pull away, mesmerized by the magnitude it beheld as you stared at each other — you wanted to speak, but Chrome beats you to it.

“I- I never thought I'm allowed to say it.” Looking away, the flush you've seen earlier came back and dusted his cheeks, “we never established it before.”

“Call me by my name then, Chrome.”

You wonder how your name would sound when it leaves his lips. You wonder, if the sound of your heartbeat reverberates if speaks, if he calls you in a name hidden behind your title — and for a moment, you've realized.

“[Y/N],” it is quiet, a soft tone calling for your name, “[Y/N],”

All you could do is close your eyes. Your mind is racing. The sound of two people, breathing in the silence, in the warmth of another's presence. The bubbles are now dissolving in your fingers and in his hair, you're certain the ones on your head are gone too. Were you still drunk, or had the intensity of your feelings reached its threshold? It made your mind spin, and your fingers tremble. What was going on?

“Did that sound weird?” You opened your eyes to find Chrome's worried gaze. Still realizing the situation you're both in - and yet you were both comfortable now - you opened your mouth, only to close it.

You realized you've always liked Chrome all this time.

And the way he said your name is far from what you've imagined. You breathe in once more at his appearance: disheveled hair coated in shampoo, flushed cheeks in contrast to his pale complexion, doe-eyed in the shade of the light. Of course, you had to fall for this man. And it made your heart ache - alcohol or the touches alone? Who knows.

“No.” You quietly spoke, looking away, hiding the blush on your cheeks, “I...want to get out now.”

Chrome doesn't say a word. Instead, he stood up and left you there - confused, in a daze. When he comes back, a pair of clothes were on his arms.

“Can you stand, co...I mean, [Y/N]?”

“Thank you for the clothes.”

You spoke by the time you re-entered his room, the oversized shirt hanging loosely on your body. You looked at your appearance in the mirror twice before leaving the room, where you'd deemed it was good enough, however; judging by the way Chrome was staring at you intensely, head to toe, you couldn't help but wonder - is something wrong?

Chrome must have changed the sheets first, the shade of blue occupying the space on the bed. He now stood behind a smaller stool, a hair dryer in hand. You awkwardly stood, gesturing to the sight behind you: “I promise I'll repay you back when I get back.”

“The shirt,” He looks away for a moment, before clearing his throat, “it looks...good on you.”

You looked down — the oversized white shirt with the print fading away reaching down your thighs, just above your knees. At least, you were wearing something to combat the cold, yet your back catches the wetness of your hair, which made your temperature drop further. Noticing this, Chrome motions you to sit on the stool.

You are compliant with his wishes. He starts to turn the hair dryer on, before carefully handling your hair. In front of you was a tall mirror, which must have been Chrome's height. As he gently starts to dry your hair, you take in your surroundings - it's your first time in Chrome's room. As they say, the bedroom reflects its owner; tidy, neat, and everything in place. Various books with small print on the spine you couldn't make out on the shelves, the Queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. A perfectly neat study table with a few papers here and there near the dresser of the bed. It brings you to shame, how cleanly Chrome sets up his room which is far different from yours.

It reflects; your senses in a daze as you feel Chrome weaving through your locks, attentive to how his turquoise irises are on his masterpiece. Your eyes look up at his face once more.

“You also look good with your hair down.”

His attention flickers back to you. It's true - he looks more human this way, hair framing his face. Blinking slowly, he sheepishly laughs. “Ah, I always have my hair down after a shower. Do I look weird?”

“No.” You admit, “you look handsome still.”

Another wave of silence washes over. You realize you're more sober this way, the guilt of not talking too much gnawing on the back of your throat. But you are thankful, Chrome takes the opportunity.

“You are wearing my shirt that the F.O.S. gave,” humming, he brushes away the hair on your back, heat radiating off on your back, “they gave it shortly after graduation. I took it before father could notice.”

The hair dryer shuts off. He places it on the dresser, eyes still on your now-dried hair. You asked, “does your father not want you wearing these things?”

“He thinks it's useless. After all, medals and honor are the only valuable things the college would give to you.”

“But I see that it seems well-used,” you smell the cologne Chrome uses every day, “like you've always worn it.”

His hand is on your shoulder, tracing the outline. “Shortly after my Construct surgery, I always wore this. Anywhere as long as my father wouldn't see.”

A thought where Chrome wears the shirt comes to mind, in bed, clutching the fabric. Holding a handful and raising it to your nose, you spoke, “is there a reason?”

But he only sighs. “I am a Construct.” He looks up to meet your eyes in the mirror, “I am made for war. I threw away my humanity a long time ago.”

Those words tugged a hidden emotion in you. Spinning to meet his figure, you craned your neck just so you can properly look at him. Words are bubbling in your mouth, but it comes out dry.

Yet, you try anyway. “It's true that you're made for war, but you shouldn't be denied of these...”

“It's alright, co...[Y/N].” The call of your name sends your heart into somersaults, “I've learned it the hard way. There is no need for me to feel that way anymore.”

“Besides,” he added, as he got on one knee, smiling, “it's time for you to take a nap. It's past 2 am now. I wouldn't want my Commandant to be sleep deprived, yes?”

“I-” you looked at Chrome, you don't pretend you didn't mishear his words. Looking at his irises, you took a deep breath.

“The first time I saw Chrome,” you began, “I always thought you were attractive.”

That caught his attention. Tilting his head with an eyebrow raised, he curiously asked, “I'm sorry?”

“I wondered why a human like me was roaming around the city ruins that day.” You fidgeted with the hem of your clothes, “But then, I saw your inver-device.”

Ah, this memory. Chrome remembers it fondly. In the heat of dispute, where Lee had been injured badly, he doesn't remember if it was the situation at hand or the way the sunlight shone down on you that day - either way, he always thought it was something for that moment.

“It didn't change one bit of my impression of you.” You take a deep breath, “I think...it became something else.”

Your heart beats chaotically. You're sure it's the alcohol, but you're also aware that it's your feelings shaping at this very moment. Your hands tremble with want - to hold Chrome, to hold his hand.

“Something else?”

“I don't see you as a Construct, Chrome,” you whispered, reaching out to touch his chin, eyes trailing where your finger touched, “I see you more than that.”

You're aware; his gaze on you, as his own fingers shake as they touched yours. Such feelings have echoed in your mind, and you are afraid they wouldn't go away unless you tell them upfront. Are you scared to be rejected? Too bad, you're not; let the alcohol drain all your fears tonight.

“I don't want you to keep calling me 'Commandant'. I don't like it when you see me as someone from F.O.S., but I like it when you touch me, or when you're close to me-”

His hand is holding yours now. Firm, gentle. He's in front of you, and you swore you could see the future reflect in his irises. It's warm, the way he grasped your hand, fingertips touching his lips. His eyes are closed - a single kiss on every finger, mouth muttering some kind of prayer.

“[Y/N],” he whispers on your fingers, gazing at you with an expression you've never seen him make before.

Loving. Adoration. Something along those lines. It claws on your stomach, inching up to the top, that if you opened your mouth you would regret.

“When I saw you at that time, I didn't know what to think. I remember thinking: would you only be another soldier I will see on the battlefield, regardless if dead or alive?”

“Am I the former?”

“A part of me thought so. But...”

He pauses, before taking your hand to his chest, a strong vibration echoing there. Your heart feels the same, it wishes to free itself from the cages of your ribcage and into whatever was in the middle of the both of you.

“If I were to lose you, I...wouldn't know what I'll do.”

Heaviness weaves in your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck for support, blissfully unaware of the distance left between your lips. “Chrome,”

“[Y/N], I cannot...”

“I like you, Chrome.” It is a genuine confession. You never lied. “I like you too much, that I feel like my heart can't handle it if you disappear on me, too.”

A confession that brought tears to your eyes. “I want to run away with Chrome. I don't want to be away from you.”

“I'm not going away.” He took you by the waist, propping you on his thighs, “I'm here.”

“Meeting you...being here with you...it feels enchanting.” You closed your eyes, blindingly touching wherever your hands meet, “Please don't be in love with someone else...”

Chrome feels like it's the first time for him to recognize the ability to love. The passion for studying, living in the moment where examinations take place, keeping everything orderly — it has always been how he always lived. Yet, for the first time — someone was here in his room, in his touch, in this space. It makes him greedy; it makes him wild.

“[Y/N],” his hands cup your cheek, nuzzling your cheek, “I feel the same way. I like you - I adore you. Every glory I will bring to you, it will be all for you.”

That confession triggered something inside of you - to bridge the gap between the both of you. Leaning forward, the urge to slam your lips to him right there and then grows fervently. However, a hand stops your advances. Pulling back, you are met with a blushing Chrome, looking at you in awe.

“Comman- I mean, [Y/N], as much as I want to kiss you...I cannot. I can't kiss you when you are still drunk.”

“But I want to, let me show you how much I like you.”

His hand easily slips under your shirt, warm ones grasping your hips, rubbing circles around it, “In the morning. When you are sober, when you are about to make better judgement. I will let you do whatever you want.”

A mischievous smile graced your lips. “Anything?”

The blush on his face became a darker shade. Shyly nodding, “Yes, anything.”

He eases into his arms. Lifting you up and carrying you to bed, a thought crosses your mind — you, in a long white gown, and him, in a silver tuxedo. You see him in the lights of the room, illuminated in this dark evening, his smile sending ripples of your heart into motion. You see him this way, your hand carrying a bouquet of flowers that you both love, your fingers intertwined with a ring of promise. In your thoughts he carries you like this, and you swore it felt familiar; one day, you wish. You would have to tell him in the morning.

But for now, the alcohol hits you harder more than ever, drowsiness threatening to shut your eyes. As you felt yourself dip into the mattress - his bed - you wish you could stay with him, the lingering warmth on your skin now fading as you feel him pull away. But your mouth is a jumbled mess, only opting for the fatigue to succumb to you. So, you use your hand, grasping whatever you could reach - his shirt, his hand, his arm.

“Don't go.” You beg, voice laced with grogginess and want, “won't you stay here?”

“I will be sitting here next to you. Don't worry, I'm not going away.”

“No,” your voice sounds like you're pleading now, “don't go, stay beside me. I want you to be beside me when I wake up.”

“[Y/N]...”

“Stay with me, Chrome.”

With a sigh, you feel the space beside you dip. The shuffling of sheets, the smell of lavender invading your weary senses. At last, warm hands enclose yours, before placing them close to his lips, one last kiss before darkness consumed your senses.

“Goodnight, [Y/N],” you knew he'd tell you that, “I will see you in the morning.”

Chrome doesn't see you in the morning.

When sunlight slipped through the windows, he woke up to an empty space beside him. Disappointment comes knocking on his door, calling out that he was only dreaming for something unreal, something that only humans would indulge in. Although the sheets prove that someone else was here with him last night, he doesn't dwell on that slipping hope. Instead, disappointment and frustration, paired with despondency, makes a home inside his chest and his M.I.N.D.

No longer interested in ruminating on the mattress, he drags himself out of bed. However, the robots that usually greet him aren't around still. But the floors and the walls on the rooms he passed are cleaner than what he saw last night.

Probably elsewhere. Probably at the garden.

But the glass door to the garden shows no signs of robots, at least where his sight can reach. No robots cutting grass or cleaning the pool. At times like these, they should've been around. Where were they?

A sound of an R5 cleaning robot chimes in nearby. Chrome follows the sound, and the sight isn't something he was expecting.

“You did well,” your voice feels like a cloud, floating amongst the sea of beeping robots, “thank you for your help.”

Your back faces Chrome. Crouching in front of a faceless R5 cleaning robot, you gently patted its "head", small giggles on your lips.

“You're a good robot, aren't you,” the sound of beeping seemingly mirroring an appreciative noise, “you're a very good robot.”

A sizzle comes out of the oven, to which you jump to your feet, scrambling to reach the stove. “Ah, it's getting burned!”

Chrome couldn't help but admire you; the way you move, your interactions with the robots although lifeless, and your cautiousness seemed to boost his adoration for you. It must have been his M.I.N.D., but the sunlight on your toes, his shirt that fits you perfectly despite being too big for you, and the smile as you tasted whatever you were cooking — it hits him harder. The want, the like, the adoration for someone he could never think he'd fall for. The feeling that his chest had earlier disappeared; only warmth began to repair its fractured roots.

“Chrome?” Your quiet voice called out, the beep of the robot chiming in, “you're awake.”

“And you're here.”

Is this what pining feels like? An unspoken feeling that settles deep between the distances of the two of you. He knows he shouldn't hope, when a night drowned in alcohol remembers nothing. Yet, the way your eyes seem to tell him something, he hopes to cling onto whatever was left in his pride.

“Good morning,” he spoke, aware of his morning voice now, “I apologize that you had to be the one to cook.”

“N-no, it's alright! The robots mostly did the work. I merely supported them.”

“Still,” he slowly approached you, timid footsteps leading to you, “the fact that you treat them as if they're human too speaks a lot.”

“It's even a surprise that they show no hostility to you. They are trained to fend off those who are unfamiliar in the household.”

“Commandant [Y/N] is welcomed.” the robot from earlier chirped, “helped us with housework.”

“Mr. Smith also invited me here once in a while to talk about politics.” You shrugged, opting to pat the robot once more, “I just did a favor for them.”

You nodded to it, to which it purrs in your touch. Satisfied, it happily trots away, probably deciding to work elsewhere.

Another silence. You've decided to go back and finish cooking the food, but the fire had long been doused (probably from the advancement of this stove?). Chrome wants to talk, yet no words could be formulated in his head. After the agonizing long silence, you took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

“I remember what happened last night.”

Chrome freezes. He looks up to meet your guilty eyes looking elsewhere. “You do?”

“I...am regretful that I puked on you. That's why I decided to clean up here as an exchange.”

Ah, so you don't remember what happened afterwards. Chrome's heart sinks, before noticing you looking away, and a creeping blush on your cheeks.

“I...also remember that I asked you to take a bath with me.”

Memories of last night came crashing over his M.I.N.D. The garden, the bed, the bathtub, the hair dryer, and your skin — all a mixture of things that only makes him go haywire. His blush mirrors yours; that means one more thing.

“I also remember telling you how I feel.” You began, “and I...”

The sinker comes. And Chrome's heartbeat isn't sure now. But you - you approached him, eyes down, figure covered, but reaching out to him. With shallow breaths, you raised your hand to his chest, before looking up. And there - your eyes meet his. Same innocent, shimmering eyes looking at him with vigor, with enchantment; he forgets how to breathe.

“I like you, Chrome.”

You've said it once more. Sober, genuine, and true. And it breaks Chrome's heart into pieces, folded and mashed into dough, before it forms in the shape of a heart. You've set the oven now; his feelings are ready to be baked, ready to be eaten - and he wants you. No, he needs you to be the one to take it.

“I still like you, even when I'm drunk or sober. I want to be with you all the time. I want you, Chrome. I want you to be part of the future that I am building.”

Wordlessly, he captures your hips and pulls you close, him leaning down just so the proximity knows no bounds. He feels your breath ghost his lips, your heartbeat in his ribcage - it beats, and beats, and beats so loudly he forgets you're in the kitchen at daylight; in a house he's grown up with no love, but he's here now. Creating a love that no Smith can forge.

“A concrete object made of materials and information, whose borders are continuously constructed and reconstructed,” said the definition for 'Smith'. He could live in that definition forever, but what about Chrome?

“I am forging a new one.” He whispers, “I am...bridging the new future with you.”

Your eyes are shining, and there he knew-

“I like you, too, [Y/N].”

If only bodies were capable of seeing what's happening underneath, a cadenza ringing in Chrome's heart, beating furiously for you, only you. You smiled, a mischievous gaze written across your face.

“Does the offer about me doing anything I want when I'm sober still stand?”

He smiles back. “Of course.”

“I want to kiss you.”

Tiptoeing to reach Chrome's height, you craned your neck and tugged his shoulder. But Chrome is kind; he hoists you up by the hips, capturing your lips in an instant.

Sweet is a word to describe the first kiss Chrome shared with someone in his life. Forget the war, forget that you're on the kitchen island; it's only two lovers baring their adoration for one another, sharing a kiss blessed in daylight. It's warm, it's soft, it's needy - the way you both melt into each other, how you wrapped your arms around his neck, or how his hands are holding you up. Enchanted, Chrome's M.I.N.D. echoes, it's really enchanting.

Satiated, you both pull away, breathless, as your foreheads touch. He doesn't let you go, though. You (unfortunately) do, when the other kitchen door opens, a parade of little robots bursting through the door.

You cheer as the little robots go through the surprise: a small banner written "Happy Birthday!" hastily, and the cake you baked earlier with the robots. Chrome looks at you confused, before noticing what the parade had brought.

“How-”

“Happy birthday, Chrome,” You beamed, hands cupping his cheeks, “you deserve the celebration.”

“Thank you.” He whispers on your chin, leaving little kisses there, “I really appreciate this...I appreciate you.”

“You should enjoy today.” You winked, “my birthday present to you is for later.”

“Later?”

You squeezed his arm. He blushes. “Yes, later.”

Chrome is thankful his heart doesn't need to somersault out of his chest now. At least, until later.

HAPPY LATE ACTIVATION DAY CHROME!!!!!! please like, reblog, share, comment down on this post! don't copy and plagiarize my work!!

#pgr #pgr commandant #punishing gray raven #punishing gray raven imagines #pgr global #pgr cn #pgr chrome #pgr chrome glory #pgr chrome x reader #pgr arclight #HAPPY ACTIVATION DAY CHROME!!! #pgr x reader

[echonvoid]

Hero costumes! For when the bois finally get their rhythm back

Donnie:

Hero Name: ??? Not really sure yet but probably a chess term or definitely one of his many fake names (*cough cough* Von Ryan *cough cough*)

Fun fact: I based his future design on @sheltered-uno’s WROR Au! Future Donnie Design. It’s a really fun design. Definitely fit a “future hero in the making” vibe I was going for. Also, mans is ripped as hell and has the build of an Olympian throwing sport player. He has canonically picked up and threw a 50-100 lb circular weight used for lifting exercises. Not pictured: His small rat/turtle tail that he got from splinter. Very similar to Raph’s, except his can stretch like elastigirl. Much more versatile

Leo:

Hero Name: Neon Leon

Fun fact: his face mask thingy is a brace/protective armor for his face and jaw, since Krang nearly knocked it clean off his face. It’s led screen can do pretty much whatever he wants. He has armor based off of CJ’s and metallic talons he wears on his feet, which function in much the same way as actual birds talons do. Not pictured: His huge ass Lou jitsu ears. They’re very similar to Raph’s

Raph:

Hero Name: Red Angel (of Preventing Harm)

Weapon: Tonfas

Random fact: he has the most of splinter’s quirk’s physical traits. He has splinter’s ears and his long ass tail. I tried to make him look more like a alligator snapping turtle dragon. Also, donnie made him a tech monocular so he can use both eyes in combat. It’ll switch eyes depending on which spectrum he needs to see through (visible or ultraviolet; but he can turn them into a full pair of glasses to see into other spectrums too)

Mikey:

Hero Name: Dr. Flambé???? (he wanted Magic Mikey, which Raph instantly Vetoed) Honestly the bois are definitely considered as underground heroes, since they plan on going back to New York and living on the down low again. So the names are mostly them being teenagers and having fun. Raph just happens to have a dope ass vigilante name already

Fun Fact: Mikey’s design was based off of this design by @meandtheyeehaws : (and thanks to @that1randomname for helping me figure out who it was)

I don’t know how else to tag this since it’s cross platforms (and I found it on YouTube so that was something) but I’m super grateful cuz it’s not easy to design superhero costumes for characters whose costumes have been them in the nude for 35 years (and they are very visible)!so I really was needing the inspiration. And yes Mikey definitely uses his art skills while fighting. He learned that from Mina

They don’t all go by just he/him but I’m so fucking tired and it’s too late to try to vary my pronoun usage for them at the mo

#fanart #rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt x bnha crossover #post rottmnt movie #rise tmnt #rottmnt donnie #bnha fanart #rise bois are best bois #rise!fanart #disaster twins fanart #rise of mha au #rise leo #rise mikey #rise raph

[tadc-ragatha]

Congratulations on 50+ followers and may you gain many more!! 🎉

You truly do deserve it with your detailed writing style and I absolutely adore the writing you did for my request! If you don’t mind me requesting once again and if you feel motivated to, may you please write for Kinger and a character of your choice with 🌠🎠

May you have a well day/night and don’t forget to take care of yourself! :)

-⚜️Anon

Starry-Eyed Carnival Date

TW: Abstraction/"death"/going insane, memory loss, guilt/self-blame, angst

Type: Fic; romantic-related, platonic. Emoji details: 🌠 (Shooting Star) Stargazing, 🎠 (Carousel Horse) Amusement park activity. Game link [x].

A/N: "Kinger reminisces on his date with Queener." No reader. Kinger x Queener. As of posting, only pilot has come out.

Thank you!! I'm very flattered and glad to know my writing style is being received well! You're absolutely allowed to request again, don't worry about it! I love knowing people loved my work so much they came back for more. You get a special Queener appearance because I liked this idea so much (she's not in the game, so please don't request for her otherwise guys)! I took some time to make this because I wanted to make it well.

Also, petition to name the Kinger x Queener ship Chess-Rule-Shipping? Or something adjacent to that? I think it's cute, anyway.

Each week would end with a special activity. Usually, this meant a longer, more in-depth one outside of the tent. This week, Caine had chosen to send the crew on a night activity at the carnival.

The purpose of the activity was to go on a scavenger hunt and collect as many puzzle pieces as possible and complete the final puzzle before the others. There were twenty-five in total, and three different puzzles for the three different groups. As such, each group was to consist of a pair. Each pairs' puzzle pieces were at different locations in an attempt by Caine to stop others from sabotaging the experience.

Walking through a path lined by food stalls, Kinger and Gangle looked down at their clue. It was a scrap piece of paper with the words typed on with a typewriter. Held in Gangle's free hand--the other one kept busy with her broken comedy mask--was the clue. Kinger kept the six puzzle pieces they had collected in his. So far, the pieces presented sections of very colourful oblong shapes.

Kinger read over the clue again, "'circular eye of the carnival. Red.'"

"It must be the Ferris Wheel, right?" Gangle turned to look at him. Kinger nodded, walking off ahead of her through the crowd of NPCs.

Looming above them was the Ferris Wheel. Its frame was a plain white, but each carriage was painted a different colour of the rainbow. At least fifteen carriages were suspended.

"We have to wait for a red one," Gangle said. As if on cue, a red carriage stopped before them. Kinger stepped aside and put his hand out to his left.

"After you." He gestured to the door.

Stepping inside the carriage, the two looked around. Under the seats, over the seats, and between the bars; they found nothing. Until Gangle grabbed onto the seat itself and tried to pull it up. It worked, revealing the next clue of the game and puzzle piece.

Kinger congratulated, "Oh! Good work, Gangle. Now, we better get going." Turning to exit the carriage, he found the door slammed in his face. Gangle gasped as he paused for a moment. "Oh."

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"Well, I guess we just wait for the ride to be over," he replied. Sitting down, he looked out the window as the ride jolted to a start, swaying the two back and forth.

Outside, they could see the lights of the carnival below. Yellow and warm, they filled the atmosphere of the digital world with a strange yet familiar feeling. Different food stalls of different colours were busy with customers, the scents of their products wafting through the air. Up above them, the fake stars shone and twinkled.

Kinger sighed.

Gangle looked over to him, asking in a timid voice, "what's wrong?"

For a short moment Kinger didn't reply. Instead, he continued to stare out the bars of the red carriage, out into the sky. Finally, he spoke up.

"I like the colour red," he said.

"What?" Gangle responded.

"I said, I like the colour red."

"What--what about red?"

Another moment of silence. She looked between him and his view of the stars.

"My wife was red," he said. "I like my wife."

"Oh...Um..."

He continued, "she liked the carnival, too. I remember I took her here on our first anniversary."

"How--how long had you been together?"

"Oh, many years." He cocked his head back with an unseen eye-smile that quickly faded. "I don't remember much about what we did now." Leaning against the bars, he looked up to get a better view. "It was a night just like this. Lots of stars."

An awkward silence passed. Or, Gangle thought it was awkward. To her, she could not tell what Kinger was thinking. All he did was continue to stare, not a single discernible emotion in sight. Yet there was still a sadness to him. She fiddled with her ribbons.

Kinger sighed again, "Queener loved the stars. She had the stars in her eyes that night."

The Ferris wheel was nearing a third of the way through its rotation. Deep down, she wished it would end sooner. The silence was deafening. So much so, she mustered up all her courage to ask a question.

"What was Queener like?"

"Queener was great." He didn't look back at her. "She was all work, no play. But she was nice." Another pause. "I miss her."

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

"May--maybe we should focus on something else." She looked down. The carriage was at its peak.

"I think that's why she left," he said. Gangle looked over at him quizzically. He didn't need to look at her to know her expression. "She couldn't remember anything. It's hard not knowing your name, but then she forgot what she looked like, and her family, and our pets..."

"You had pets?"

He smiled with his eyes again, replying, "oh, lots of them! I don't know what they were, though." The smile disappeared. She could definitely see tears in the bottom of his eyes.

"Oh."

"But...Queener was always too hard on herself. She always thought she was too strong to ask for help," he gave a sad chuckle. Twitching his eyes around, he tried to stop himself from giving in as the tears slowly dropped down onto the floor. "I think she didn't want to talk to me because she didn't want to hurt me."

"I think--"

"I didn't talk to her, either. I didn't want to stress her out. I...I thought maybe she'd be okay if she just had time. I thought--"

"Kinger--"

"I...I miss my wife, Gangle!" he sobbed. The tears were full-flowing as he cried into his hands. With her ribbon, Gangle tried to put a reassuring hand on him.

"Kinger, I...I--"

"It's my fault!" he wailed. "If I--if...If I had just said something, then she would've still been here!"

Gangle didn't say anything.

"I loved her and it's my fault she's gone!"

She shook her head, saying, "no, it's not."

"It was!"

"No, it wasn't. I don't...I think...Nobody really--nobody really gets out of here." She shook her head. Kinger looked over at her. His wailing had stopped for a moment, replaced with red eyes and sniffles.

"What?" he asked.

She said, "I don't think it was your fault. We all go eventually." The carriage halted again. Looking down, she could see it was near the end. She continued, "we don't--if she was...Someone would have left anyway." Tears were streaming down her own face.

Kinger didn't say anything. He simply looked down at the floor where the pool of his tears was. As the carriage reached closer to the ground, the light became brighter. Soon, they were both flooded with the yellow warmth of the lamps.

Kinger dried his eyes with his hands. Standing up, the Ferris Wheel came to a halt as he picked up the puzzle pieces. Meanwhile, Gangle took her broken mask and the new clue. Watching him intently, she could see him staring down at the ground, seemingly unresponsive to his environment as he walked out the carriage door.

#amy's writing #⚜️ anon #50 follower event #the amazing digital circus spoilers #tadc spoilers #death tw #mental health tw #memory loss tw #angst tw #guilt tw #self blame tw #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc kinger #tadc queener #kinger x queener #tadc headcanon #tadc gangle #tadc abstraction

[riddles-n-games]

Has anyone noticed how there's somewhat of an inconsistency with the highlighted objects in the character cards versus the ones on the cover? I think the only one that actually matched anything so far has been the calla lily on Lyra's card and even then people are asking if it's a mask for the ball but I'm not convinced of that one. Gigi's heart necklace doesn't match the bright blue circular gem on the cover and Rohan's chess piece may be a queen rather than a king which brings me to Grayson's card.

Me and @hathorneheiress were discussing this earlier that even though it looks like a tie on his silhouette, we believe that it actually could be a blade or knife since he's good at knife throwing and sword-fighting. We also don't see any object of that sort on the cover other than a wand, presumably. So, the question becomes are these additional clues that haven't been introduced on the cover for a reason or are we overthinking this a little too much? What are your thoughts?

Unless... It's another case of opposites attract. Why, I haven't figured that out yet but Rohan's chess piece and the one on the cover would be my best piece of evidence for that because queen is opposite to king.

Also, is anyone still peeved that we never found out what that triangular mirror piece was that Jameson discovered in Tuscany during the beginning of The Final Gambit?

#lyra kane #gigi grayson #rohan #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #tgg character reveals #opposites attract #the grandest game hints #the grandest game theories #the grandest game cover #tig theories #the inheritance games rant #thoughts on crack #the inheritance games #the final gambit #the grandest game #tig #tfg #tgg

[quibbs126]

Could you possibly make a fankid for Earl Grey and Esterhazy? I imagine the pair having a relationship similar to Morticia and Gomez Adams, and also that Earl adopted the Chess Choco twins.

This one was a particularly interesting one, this is Cremeschnitte

So I’m gonna be real, I’m not entirely sure what her character is. Originally when I was making her, I was just thinking she was a big girl who likes being fancy but has a really big and buff body that she she’s not the most fond of

Which I’m realizing is still fine, it’s just that as I was drawing her outfit I got a different vibe, particularly like a school/academy theme? But I don’t know if she’d be a student or a teacher. But now her colors remind me of the Holiday Express, so now I’m saying she works there

But yeah, I don’t have the most solid ideas for her character, sorry

Oh and also that she used to be much smaller as a child

Anyways, on to design things

So first off, her original name was going to be Medovik Cookie, that being a light colored cake, and she was generally going to be more Cookie based, with me trying to figure out how to mix werehound traits, but then I had remembered seeing someone else’s fankids involving Choco Werehound Brute, and so I thought “why don’t I make mine more werehound like?” And so in the process her name changed from Medovik Cookie to Cremeschnitte

And similarly to Medovik, that’s her name because it was a light colored cake

Cremeschnitte:

So I realize that her dough color is lighter and more yellow than either Earl Grey or Esterhazy, but I made it that color because of how yellow the reference cake was. Though to be honest it ends up reminding me more of the regular Cake Hounds, especially with the white on top

The only real Cookie mixing I gave her was trying to make her snout less rectangular and have the top be more circular, if that makes sense. Also her lacking the ears or whatever Esterhazy has. I also feel like I may have made her head a bit too big, but I mean, I guess it works with her half Cookie status?

Also for my first time drawing a werehound, I don’t think I did that bad. Though granted, plenty of her body is covered by other things, so I don’t know how good it’d look doing it again

Honestly her hair required a lot of minor tweaking because it kept just looking off to me. Her hair was also supposed to be like some sort of braid, but I don’t know how well that came off. But overall looking at the final product, I think her hair looks nice

As for her outfit, I was kind of just making stuff up as I go, all I really had was that she wore a dress, and everything else just kind of happened along the way

But overall, I think she turned out quite well, and I hope you like her too!

#cookie run #cookie run oc #esterhazy #earl grey cookie #fankid #fanchild #my ocs #my art #cremeschnitte #requests #answers

[yeehawbrothers]

Wrench. 11th doctor.

Decided to scroll through my notes and found this gem of a prompt, how could I resist?

Prompt: "Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?" "Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak?"

Enjoy- A.

A rare silence had fallen over the console room of the TARDIS. 

After the last adventure, Amy and Rory decided to head to bed for awhile.

Which of course was fine, as you and the Doctor understood that humans needed much more rest than timelords.

They had gone to bed a few hours ago, but you and the Doctor remained under the console, working in the mess of wires together.

“Didn’t I tell you before that these needed to be cleaned up a bit!?” You groaned exasperated, as he fell from his sling of sorts after being shocked once again by two wires touching that definitely should not have touched.

He sighed, sitting up and looking towards you with a face of defeat.

His hair was sticking up all around, grease coated his face, and his goggles hung halfway off his head.

You let out a loud laugh before quickly turning away, trying desperately to choke down your laughter.

“Well I’m glad my pain is amusing to you.” He grumbled, standing and wiping his hands on his trousers.

“That’s enough for me today.” He said, taking off his goggles and throwing them across the room.

“You better pick those up.” You said, giving him a look.

He waved his hand in dismissal, “Eh, maybe later. I think i'll go check the TARDIS pantry for something to eat. I’m quite hungry.”

You nodded in understanding. 

He offered you a hand, which you grabbed and stood from your seat. Taking your goggles off and stuffing them into your hammock of sorts.

“I think i'll take a shower, maybe pop down to the library.”

He nodded, his bright eyes shining as he smiled down at you. 

You both turned, walking up the stairs to the doorway. 

“Meet back here later?” He said, turning his head towards you, brown locks of hair falling across his elegant features.

You smiled, brushing them away and softly running your hand through his hair.

“Of course. You could always come join me in the library once you're finished.”

He grabbed your hand from his hair as you spoke, bringing your knuckles to his mouth, kissing them gently. 

“Of course, anything for you."

You felt your face heat up involuntarily.

 No matter how long you’d been with him, he always got you blushing like a school girl.

“Then, until later my love.” You leaned up, tenderly kissing his cheek before turning and walking down one of the many hallways to your room.

He stood for a moment, lost in thought with a dopey smile plastered across his face until you left his line of vision. 

Before turning and heading the opposite way towards the kitchen.

Quite a few hours later, you found your eyes beginning to hurt from the strain of reading for so long.

You had a large stack of books set on the coffee table in-front of you, all ones you had read during that time.

You read a few more chapters before sitting up and stretching, feeling your back crack multiple times in varying places.

Sitting for a moment, you admired the fireplace before you.

The Tardis was kind enough to give you your own personalized section of the library.

A large brick fireplace, with small knick knacks from various planets lining the mantle, was set with two large loveseats. 

A soft circular rug sat beneath them, one you loved to run your feet across when you were sat reading for hours on end.

On one side of the fireplace, was a beautiful alcove.

Large windows overlooking an artificial garden with rays of fabricated sun shining down were framed with light grey curtains.

Many days, if you felt you didn’t need to grasp for the warmth of the fire, you found yourself under a warm blanket, leaning against a soft pillow as you watched the simulated birds fly from one tree to the next.

As you sat, staring into the fire, you realized the doctor had never come to check on you.

‘He probably got distracted, or set the kitchen on fire.’ You thought to yourself, a blissful smile crossing your face at the mere thought of the man.

You figured you’d might as well finish the book you were reading, since you only had a chapter or two left.

Now, non-fiction books were definitely not your first choice, but after losing 7 games in a row to the Doctor you’d decided to do some reading on chess tactics.

After getting through a few more chapters, one of which depicted how to tell if someone was letting you win, a thought occurred to you. Which you just had to get an answer to.

Deciding to just head straight to the console room, assuming that Amy and Rory had probably woken up and decided they were ready for an adventure. 

As you approached the doorway, you heard Amy and the Doctor’s muffled bickering. 

“No! Not that one!”

“Well I don't know! You didn’t specify!”

You laughed quietly to yourself, she must be trying to help him repair something.

As you stood in the doorway, you saw Rory sitting in one of the flight chairs, watching Amy try to hand the Doctor something over the railing without dropping it on his head.

“Hey guys.” You spoke, announcing your presence as you descended down the stairs.

“Oh thank the stars your here! You can help your boyfriend now. He’s driving me insane.” Amy exclaimed, apparently forgetting she was holding a large wrench above the Doctors head. You heard a small clunk before hearing the doctor shout out in pain. 

Amy turned towards you, eyes wide. 

“Sorry.” She said quietly, sparing a glance down at the Doctor.

You walked towards the railing, looking down below. 

“You okay?” You asked, looking down at the Doctor, who was now rubbing his head where you assumed the wrench had hit. 

“Bloody brilliant.” He turned to look up at you, hand still holding his head. 

You smiled down at the child of a man, who held a pout in distain. 

He rubbed his head a moment more before turning back to his work.

“Let me just get this fixed, and we’ll be off. You know I heard of this planet where-“ He began his description, as per usual.

You straightened up and went to sit down on the floor beside the control panel, floors were always better to sit on. 

You had decided that a long time ago after the whole, ‘bee fiasco.’ But that was a story for another time.

Amy, who now sat beside Rory on the flight chair, turned towards you.

“So, where’ve you been? You must’ve been doing something important if the Doctor would rather my help than interrupting you.” 

You looked up from watching the Doctor through the clear flooring, a small smile on your face.

“Oh just reading in the library.” 

She nodded wordlessly, before turning to observe the Doctor as-well.

Silence fell for a moment, before you spoke up, suddenly remembering your question.

“Do you think letting someone win at chess counts as sapiosexual bottoming?”

Amy turned to you, eyes wide, before Rory spoke up in exhaustion.

“Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak?”

You laughed loudly before turning to see the Doctor walking up the stairs towards the console.

He headed over to you, looking down at you from where you sat, leaning against the console.

“What would make you ask that?” He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“I don't know, I was reading a chess book so I could win a game-“ you spoke,  as you stood up to lean against the console next to him, “-against you but in one of the chapters it spoke about letting you know if someone was allowing you to win a game, one thing led to another and well, got curious I suppose. Anyways- where are we off to today?”

You turned to look at the Doctor, an amused smile on his face. 

“You were reading a book on chess, so you could beat me?” He asked smugly.

“Excuse me, are we just gonna ignore the fact that they just asked about sapiosexual bottoming???”

#11th doctor x reader #timelord reader #11th doctor #eleventh doctor #the doctor #doctor who #x reader #writerscommunity #amy pond

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Could I have some mafia restaurant for wip wednesday please?

WIP Wednesday (11/29) | Mafia Front Restaurant AU (Part 64)

“Oh, right. I guess chess piece tattoos are very common in England then,” Andrew says, sort of playing along. Regardless of their relationship, Neil is definitely touchy about Day. Andrew would play his favorite game of ‘poke the bear’, but since Neil does have a pistol and Moreau would absolutely help him hide Andrew’s body in one of the dumpsters out back… He’ll drop it for now.

Neil nods. “Thinking of getting one?”

“No. Not a face tattoo kind of guy.” Andrew says with a shrug, looking at the circular scars on Neil’s cheek. Wait a second… That’s exactly where Kevin’s and—

“Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend it. They hurt like a bitch,” Neil says. Andrew stays quiet for a second, trying to decide if he recognizes this man. He doesn’t. But Neil had a face tattoo at some point, which is burnt off. And he knows Kevin and Moreau, he’s involved in some shady shit… Surely he’s not an ex-raven as well. Andrew wisely doesn’t bring it up. 

“I guess we can talk about the weather now, if you’d like.” Andrew suggests. It's rather a boring topic, but a safe one. Besides he thinks he could watch paint dry if this guy was in the room with him. “I hear it’s supposed to be cloudy for the rest of the year.”

That shocks a snort out of Neil and moves to cover his mouth with his hand. “That sounds right.”

<- previous | first | next->

#aftg #andreil #kevjean #Mafia Restaurant AU #WIP Wednesday #🕊️ #answered #bobbyskid

[ashtarels-archives]

Cathedral of Eternal Night: Lost Sanctum of the Sisterhood of Elune

Cathedral of Eternal Night, perhaps called "Azshal'adora" in Darnassian.

These were the uppermost chambers of the Temple of Elune, now known as the Tomb of Sargeras. The corrupting emerald fires of fel magic slowly creep through the entrance of these once hallowed halls, but remnants of the Sisterhood's formery glory still endure further into the Cathedral.

Hall of the Moon:

When traversing the dungeon, there are rooms to the side of the main path that may be opened and fully explored. These circular spaces contain what could be old moonwells, outlined with pillows and embraced by floating flowers overhead. These were likely places of meditation or communion with Elune, but I could also imagine these pools being used for healing, cleansing, scrying, stargazing, etc.

Perhaps a coincidence, but when inspected closer, these flowers have eight main petals; similar to how there are eight notable phases of the moon. (I wonder if eight is considered a lucky or holy number in Kaldorei society?)

Windows of stained glass adorn the walls and the ceilings here, filigree and diamond-shaped motifs (like the Tears of Elune) being repeated in the lower levels of the temple as well. Despite this being an indoor place of worship, it's clear that keeping moonlight visible/sensed was important in the Cathedral. In some rooms, it appears that the moonlight from outside shines directly into the pools, perhaps imbuing them with lunar blessings. This could have also just been a way for priests of Elune to feel closer to Her even when inside.

Countless scrolls and bookshelves can be found in all rooms, many of them housing a plethora of desks. Eerily, some still have an open scroll or book laying atop their surface with bookmarks in place, untouched by the sands of time.

I'm curious as to what texts are hidden here, but I suppose there's a few obvious things that come to mind. They could be prayers the Sisters were trying to commit to memory, songs of the Elunarian faith, stories/legends about the Well of Eternity, sacred texts of the Goddess, students' notes/textbooks, and more; as this could have also been a place of learning for newer inductions into the Sisterhood as well.

Perhaps the writings in this repository could make for interesting RP adventures in retrieving old texts, relics, lore about ancient Kalimdor, or attempts at discerning old Elunarian spellwork, prayers, stories, etc!

The small tabletop game on the right also caught my eye. Pieces of arcane crystal float above the board, maybe an old version of Kaldorei/Highborne chess.

Another detail in some of these areas are the looms resting to the side of the moon-pools: this could have been a place where mooncloth or holy vestments were created or blessed, as evidenced by one of the sub-zones here being called "Sacristy of Elune." A sacristy is a place where "a priest prepares for a service, and where vestments and other things of worship are kept."

Chapel of Tranquil Song:

An easily missed side-room leading up the first set of stairs is the Chapel of Tranquil Song. It is a small church with two sets of pews, and a fallen crescent-harp. This room further reinforces the idea that music and song have been a prominent aspect of Elune worship, and I think this could be an interesting take on healing in RP as well. Calming singing and instruments like the harp could possibly help heal wounds alongside the lunar magic of the Goddess, akin to an Elunarian bard.

The Twilight Grove:

The next level of the Cathedral is called "Twilight Grove," a large platform housing ethereal flowers that glow like stars with a font of moonlight (almost like a silver lake) pouring in through the ceiling. Agronox's dungeon journal entry describes these as the "Hanging Gardens," which he once tended to before his fall to corruption. I find it interesting that these plants seem to flourish hanging upside down, rather than growing on the ground level. Some petals and leaves also seem to be translucent, reminiscent of a spirit or the like.

I am unsure what these herbs are exactly, but perhaps they are specifically nourished by moonlight. Maybe priests of Elune utilize celestial herbs of some kind that bolster the magic granted by the Goddess, grant visions/spiritual boons, or emanate a calming aura in places of worship. It could also be that mundane herbs may be grown near a moonwell or a font like this one, and with time are imbued by Elune's blessings.

Chapel of the Sentinels:

This chapel is yet another Legion reference to a group called the Sentinels existing before the War of the Ancients. The others mentioned are in Tel'anor (resting place of WotA heroes) upon the plaques of the Windstrikers and Latara Feathersong.

Windstrikers: "Marksmen without peer, their skill with a bow was an inspiration to generations of archers. Their family developed the gauntlets the Sentinels wear, carefully articulated mail links that empower our archers to this day."

Latara: "Here lies Latara Feathersong. A huntress of the Sentinels, she led the vanguard in many campaigns. Her bravery and compassion were endless."

Maybe this order existed before the Sundering, with special places reserved for them like this chapel, and was simply revived in name by Tyrande Whisperwind a few centuries later.

The Emerald Archives:

A grand library containing innumerable books of all categories, it seems that these archives contained Highborne enchantments as well. Before the Sundering, there may have been an emphasis on Priestesses being educated/learned in many different areas of study, including knowledge of the arcane. These are the books we see from Thrashbite's dungeon journal entry:

Satirical Animated Book: an animated tome overflowing with stifingly satirical writing. As the tomes open, all sound is magically absorbed into the ancient pages, silencing all players for 5 seconds.

Fictional Animated Book: An ancient work of fiction springs to life, the magical runes leaping from the page to fetter would-be readers. Slows all players.

Biographical Animated Book: Account of a long-forgotten sorcerer's life can prove to be dangerously beguiling. Entrancing narrative charms a random player, but breaks if their health goes below 30%.

All of these fire arcane bolts at the party. Books as weapons in mage RP is something I'd never thought about, but makes so much sense!

There is an achievement for this boss fight called "Steamy Romance Saga," implying that even erotica could have also been kept in the library.

A mural to the left of the Emerald Archives depicts a Kaldorei woman bearing a shield (likely the Aegis of Aggramar that was kept here prior to the Sundering) and a spherical protection spell against green flames from what appears to be a dragon.

The way leading to the next area is called "Path of Illumination."

Chapel of Tears:

Another side-room on the way up the winding staircase is named the Chapel of Tears. This could have been a place of safekeeping for the Pillar of Creation: Tears of Elune, or a chapel of mourning. Somehow, a fel-infused Fal'dorei (nightborne spider) has made a nest here.

Other references to Elune's tears:

Tearstone of Elune

The Sisters' Tear

Mu'sha's Tears

Tears of the Goddess

Elune's Tear

Tears of the Moon

In any case, references to tears of Elune crop up all over Azeroth, most of which possess some kind of restorative/cleansing/life-giving powers. I believe that while the tears could certainly represent sadness of the Goddess, they could also represent tears of happiness, as the Pillar of Creation is described to "embody the dream of what Azeroth could be," and maybe the strong healing magic imparted by them is rooted in hope. I feel that Elune's connection to water could also be another avenue for RP, perhaps harnessing rejuvenating aquatic magic alongside the lunar blessings of Elune.

Sacristy of Elune:

The pinnacle of the Cathedral is known as the Sacristy of Elune, with areas of now-empty shelves and pillaged chests. The stained glass has been turned a fel-green, broken open and shattered onto the floor. The name suggests that this was once a place where sacred items were kept, such as vestments, furnishings, sacred vessels, and Elunarian records.

Given the ancient origin of the Cathedral, this could have been a prominent place that mooncloth was created: "Tailors tell that the first recipe for mooncloth was scribed by Elune herself." It is unknown if a tailor must use felcloth and purify it in a moonwell to eventually create mooncloth, or if any cloth can be used with the proper rituals/spells/blessings.

Hope you found this interesting, thanks for reading!

"Andu’lun-adala-ande’nar." (May the moon light your way.)

#night elf #elune #kaldorei #nightelf #wow #world of warcraft #roleplay #rp #highborne #cathedral #long post #writing #headcanon #lore #priestess

[aurel1awrites]

𝘾𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡

hi !! this is my first actual post on here that isn't just me rambling, and it's a little scene from my fic on wattpad, and i think it's so cute it's actually sickening.

∞

The Hufflepuff common room is ethereal. The room is round with low ceilings and circular windows lining its walls. The afternoon sun beams through them, brightening up the room. The walls are adorned with honey colored hangings, and there are shelves where beautiful potted plants sit upon.

The four Hufflepuffs immediately find their spot in the back of the room, and sit down at their table.

"Your common room makes ours seem lame," I say, still taking it all in.

"It's cozy," Ernie says. "Always feels like home."

Justin starts a match of wizards' chess, which we take turns playing as we wait for Cedric's return.

Everytime the entrance to the common room opens, I find myself turning to look at it, to see if it's him. And every time, I'm disappointed.

Until it's finally him, and I can feel my heart beating stronger, my skin feeling warmer, and my head spinning faster.

"Hi Clever Girl," he grins, taking the seat next to me.

"Hi Golden Boy."

"So, what did Captain say?" Rolf asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Rolfie?" Hannah teases, causing him to give her a light shove.

"She's definitely disappointed," Cedric sighs. "But proud of us nonetheless."

"Maybe if I was on the team," Rolf says jokingly.

"Okay, Rolf," Justin snorts.

"Your brother," Cedric turns to me. "Is a bloody good Chaser. He wore out all of our Chasers last year, and he did so again this year."

"I'm not telling him you said that," I laugh. "It's only going to inflate his ego."

"You should join Gryffindor's Quidditch team," he says suddenly. "You'd honestly be a brilliant Chaser."

"I can barely ride a broom without crashing," I say. "Let alone throw around a Quaffle while riding it."

"I can see it," he continues, ignoring what I just said. "Y/N, Gryffindor's Chaser."

"Maybe," I shrug. "But definitely not this year."

"Next year?" he grins mischievously.

"Not next year either."

"Are you going to wait until I graduate before you try out?" he says, his tone playful. "I want to see you on the pitch, Clever Girl."

"I think I'll stick to the stands," I smile. "You stay on the pitch."

"I guess I could agree to that," he sighs, acting overly dramatic. "Only if you promise that you'll always be in the stands every time I'm on the pitch."

"I promise."

#cedric diggory fanfic #wattpad #cedric diggory #harry potter #TGWL #cedric #hufflepuff #gryffindor #cedric x fem #cedric x reader #cedric x y/n

[gyofukuki]

Introducing: Roy Mustang

Origin:

Sourced from: Fullmetal Alchemist (the entirety of manga and anime)

Voiced by: Travis Willingham

Character Name:

Full name: Roy Mustang

Nicknames: Flame Alchemist, Roy-Boy (please don't)

Basic Information:

Age: 30

Gender: male

Date of Birth: March 25

Place of Birth: Central City, Amestris

Place of Residence: Central City, Amestris* (verse dependent)

Nationality: Amestrian

Physical Appearance:

Height: 5'8

Build: sturdy, muscular

Hair Color: black

Eye Color: black

Scars or distinguishing marks: big scar on the left side of his abdomen, less visible circular one on his right hand, assortment of smaller ones across his body

Personality Traits:

Strenghts: valiant, introspective, shrewd, charming, ambitious

Weaknesses: conceited, domineering, manipulative, unrelenting, mistrustful

Background and History:

Family Background: largely unknown, to him as well. He was orphaned as a baby and doesn't remember his parents. He was adopted by his father's younger sister and that's the only relative he's ever met. [My headcanon is he is partly Xingese and if you ever feel like writing something in relation to that, I'd be happy to!].

Parents: deceased

Siblings: none

Childhood: It was a pretty peculiar time. His aunt, Chris, who took him in after his parents' death was still very young and lead somewhat chaotic life. All the same, she was preoccupied with the notion of raising him to be a good man, and it showed in her care and the discipline she showed when it came to looking after his best interest. Keep in mind, all of that happened in a chaotic environment of a hostess bar which Chris owns and is practically part of her household. As you can imagine, that made for a perfect food for prejudice and bullying. Good manners aside, Roy didn't shy away from a fight, be it just verbal or physical.

Education: He was far from a perfect student, your gifted-by-lazy archetype all the way. Meaning? He was pretty bored, for a long time keeping ahead of his classes with ease, until all of the sudden the level of studies caught up to him and he found himself quite lost, not being used to actually studying at all. At first he tried to pretend it didn't get to him and he didn't care about his grades but eventually it became a chip on his shoulder. During that time, in high school, he became a bit of a problem, acting out, getting into fights every other day. It wasn't until he became a mentoree of a renowned alchemist and eventually narrowed down a goal, to become a state alchemist, that he was able to put his head down a little and finish his studies in relative peace, both regular and in alchemy.

Major/Area of Study: Strategic Intelligence

Favorite Subjects: History, Diplomacy and Information, International Security

Least Favorite Subjects: Logistics

Career/Profession: military/state alchemist

Current Occupation: State Alchemist

Previous Jobs: n/a

Career Goals: Becoming Führer

Hobbies and Interests:

Hobbies: chess, procrastinating, reading non-fiction

Interests: philosophy, clothes, good company wine, women and song

#✎ character: ( mustang ) #✎ mustang: ( introduction ) #more info to be added when i'm better caught up with other stuff #(if you want more info don't hesitate to ask!)