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always-just-red · 7 months ago

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Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh.

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms.

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation.

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…”

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper.

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers.

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you.

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins.

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him.

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy.

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer.

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish.

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes.

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours.

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly.

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.”

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up.

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs.

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance.

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you.

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight.

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too.

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm.

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s…

Perfect.

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers.

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there.

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

#🖋rach is actually writing #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads x mc #shen xinghui #li shen #qi yu #qin che #lads #lnds #l&ds

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skzophreniic · 3 months ago

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⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content. voyeurism, exhibitionism, public surveillance themes, dubcon undertones, masturbation mention, dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, filming/recording during sex, dom!reader, sub!Jisung, light power play, light humiliation, intense sexual tension.

⍣ ೋ notes: okay so i know u requested a drabble but it got a bit out of hand i'm sorry (not rlly). <3 also jisung is a wee bit of a creep here so if you don't like that, i suggest you don't read this one lol.

🧾 FORMAL INVESTIGATION REPORT

Filed by: Minho Lee Subject: Officer Voyeur Staff Member Under Review: Jisung Han Guest Involved: Guest at 704

“You ever think about what you’d be doing if you didn’t work here?”

Minho doesn’t even look up from the tray he’s balancing—some late-night room service no one claimed—but Jisung’s voice cuts through the silence like a mosquito in a dark room: annoying, high energy, impossible to ignore.

“I mean,” Jisung continues, spinning slightly in his chair, hoodie sleeves covering his hands up to the knuckles, “you? Probably some depressed barista who’d stab someone with a milk frother. Me? I’d probably be like… I dunno. A cam boy. But like a classy one. Real artsy lighting. Minimalist sets. Sad music.”

Minho finally glances up, deadpan. “You are a cam boy. Just without the lighting. Or consent.”

Jisung grins, unbothered. “Wow. That was almost a compliment. You think I’ve got the face for it?”

“I think you’ve got the delusion for it.”

He spins again in the chair, slow this time, letting the monitor light smear across his face. Black bangs hang in his eyes. Black painted nails—chipped and matte—tap against the armrest. “You ever think about what it’s like, though?” he muses, voice lower now, a little dreamy. “Being the one getting watched. Instead of always doing the watching.”

Minho snorts. “Jesus. How many nights have you been down here?”

“Too many.” He stretches, hoodie riding up a little at the waist. “Not enough.”

Minho slides the tray onto the desk, finally giving Jisung a look that says he’s both concerned and tired of his bullshit.

“Okay, Edgar Allan Perv. You seriously need to touch grass.”

Jisung laughs—sharp and wheezy, sleeves bunching as he curls up into the spin of his chair again.

“Grass doesn’t touch me back,” he pouts.

“Neither do women,” Minho mutters.

“I have women,” Jisung says, clutching his chest like he’s been stabbed, “just... from a respectful, tasteful distance. Through very discreetly placed cameras.”

Minho levels him with a look. “You know if Aeryn hears you say that out loud again, she’ll staple your dick to the control board, right?”

“Oh, Aeryn loves me,” Jisung says with faux innocence. “She keeps me around because I’m a visionary.”

“She keeps you around because no one else knows how to rewire this rat nest of a surveillance system without setting off the fire alarms.”

“Exactly.” He points at him. “Indispensable.”

Minho rolls his eyes and starts unpacking the tray, metal clinking as he peels back a corner of foil. “Indispensable, yet somehow the most likely to get the hotel sued for public indecency.”

“I prefer the term ‘unconventional asset,’” Jisung says, tapping a blunt black nail against his temple. “I bring innovation. Intrigue. Erotic suspense.”

Minho stares. “You bring violations,” he says. “I saw your 'private archive.' The one you named ‘private archive’ like a dumbass. Half those camera angles aren’t even legal in this country.”

“They’re experimental,” Jisung argues, slouched deep in his chair, hoodie swallowing him whole. “Like, avant-garde. Think of it as hotel noir. A study in loneliness. A peek into the human condition.”

“You mean tits.”

“Tits are the human condition.”

Minho groans, grabs a breadstick off the tray, and throws it at his head.

Jisung yelps, catching it midair. “Assault!”

“You’ll live.”

“I’ll press charges. I know how to access your payroll.”

“You are the payroll,” Minho says, flat. “And speaking of people who want to kill you—”

Jisung immediately straightens.

“No. Who?”

Minho looks like he’s been waiting for this moment. He leans forward, rests his elbows on the tray like it’s a podium, and locks eyes with Jisung.

“Concierge Aeryn.”

Jisung blinks. “...No.”

Minho nods, face pure grim satisfaction. “Yup.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Jisung recoils, hoodie cinching tighter around his face like a defense mechanism. “What’d I do? Wait—no. What’d she think I did?”

“Oh, she knows what you did. Everyone knows what you did. Suite 704. Hidden camera. Woman caught it. And instead of flipping out, she left you a little love note.” Minho makes air quotes with the hand not holding a breadstick. “And now Aeryn wants you to go clean up your mess before it turns into an HR nightmare.”

Jisung pales under the flicker of the monitor lights.

"Changbin?"

"Mhm. Or worse. The cops."

“The police?”

Minho shrugs. “I mean, best-case scenario, she’s into it and doesn’t report you. Worst-case?” He trails off.

Jisung’s spinning chair comes to an abrupt halt. He stares at Minho, stricken. “You’re telling me I have to talk to her? Like in person?”

Minho slaps a foil-wrapped pat of butter onto the tray. “Yup. Aeryn said, quote: ‘Tell that creepy little fuck to do whatever needs to be done.’”

“Define whatever.”

Minho raises a brow. “You know exactly what it means.”

Jisung sits frozen for a second, then groans—loud and guttural—and drapes himself backwards over the chair like he’s just died. “Hyung, I don’t do guests. I’m a background character. I thrive in the shadows.”

“Then consider this your main character arc. You’re going upstairs. You’re knocking on her door. You’re making sure she doesn’t sue this hotel for emotional trauma or sell your name to Buzzfeed Unsolved.”

Jisung is already scrambling to sit up again, bangs in his eyes, black painted nails tapping against his phone screen as he checks the suite number one more time like it might have magically changed.

“Seven-oh-four. Fuck me. She’s still in the room.”

“And probably waiting.”

Jisung’s hoodie sleeve rides up just enough to show a little ink on his forearm—some half-faded lyric he probably regrets—and he tugs it back down, muttering like a man preparing for war.

“This is bad. This is so bad. I’m not made for human interaction. I don’t even blink right. I’m gonna knock and she’s gonna pepper spray me.”

Minho tosses him a room key with a flourish. “Then make it count.”

______________________________________________________________

Suite 704.

Jisung stands outside the door, hoodie up, sleeves down, heart racing like he just ran a five-minute mile in a panic attack.

He stares at the door. The peephole feels like an eye. Like she’s already watching him—knows he’s there.

He raises his hand.

Lowers it.

Raises it again.

Knocks.

Silence.

Then: a soft voice. “It’s open.”

His spine straightens. A jolt hits low in his gut.

He fidgets with his sleeves just to stall, then pushes the door open.

Dim lighting. The faint smell of wine. You’re in the robe again—one leg folded under you, the other stretched out along the couch. Hair loose. Lip gloss smudged.

And you’re looking right at him.

Like you expected this.

Like you invited it.

Jisung lingers awkwardly in the doorway. “Hi. Uh. Sorry to bother you. I’m from security. Han Jisung. Not the scary kind—well, I mean, maybe a little scary if you saw me in a dark alley but like, not murder scary, more like, spooky little raccoon scary—”

“Shut the door,” you say, slow. Measured.

He shuts the door.

You tilt your head, eyes flicking down to his hoodie, his hands, his chipped nails clenched into sleeves. “So you’re the one who’s been watching me.”

Jisung’s brain bluescreens. “Okay, no, but also yes—but also maybe no again if you press charges—”

You pat the space next to you.

“Come here.”

He doesn’t move.

You smile.

Jisung exhales, then shuffles toward you, sits on the very edge of the cushion, spine stiff, hands between his knees like a middle schooler at a parent-teacher conference. He’s hard already. Jesus, just looking at you up close like this has the memory of last night resurfacing; you in that little dress, slipping it off–

You lean closer, voice honey-thick. “You don’t usually come upstairs, do you?”

He shakes his head.

“I figured.”

You trail a single finger up his thigh.

He makes a sound—half gasp, half squeak—and looks like he’s about to pass out.

“You don’t usually come upstairs,” you murmur, watching him squirm. “But when you do… you turn off the cameras first?”

Jisung’s eyes snap to yours. Wide. Busted.

You smile, wicked. “You didn’t think I’d notice?”

“I—uh—security protocol,” he blurts. “Can’t record myself doing, like, illegal mea culpa visits. Liability and all. It’s—it’s for your protection. My protection. Our protection—”

“You’re cute when you panic,” you interrupt, tilting your head. “But it’s a shame, don’t you think?”

He blinks. “What is?”

“That no one gets to watch this.”

His mouth opens. Then closes. He’s short-circuiting, visibly.

You lean back a little, robe slipping further down your shoulder. “I mean, I assume you know how to turn it back on.”

Jisung swallows hard. “...I do.”

“Then do it.”

He hesitates, just for a second, clearly running mental simulations of how badly this could end. But your gaze is steady, coaxing, amused. Like you want him to. Like this whole thing is your idea, not just his fucked-up fantasy.

He fumbles for his phone—shaky hands, hoodie sleeves falling back just enough to expose the faded lyric tattoo on his forearm again—and taps open an app buried between half a dozen folders.

You watch, fascinated. “So that’s how you do it? Everything through there?”

“Yeah. I, uh… I built it,” he mumbles, eyes locked on the screen as he taps through camera feeds. “Modified the firmware. Added remote access. Wired in some motion triggers. It’s—kind of janky, honestly. But like, in a good way.”

“Smart,” you murmur. “You really are a little genius.”

His cheeks flush. He doesn’t know what to do with praise—real praise, not Minho’s backhanded insults or Aeryn’s thinly veiled threats. And definitely not like this. From someone half-curled into the couch, glossy-lipped and looking at him like he’s something fascinating. Dangerous.

Valuable.

“Can it record?” you ask.

He licks his lips. “Y-Yeah. But I don’t—”

“Turn it on.”

Jisung short circuits. The red light flickers back on.

You lean closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Show me what it’s like,” you whisper. “Being the one getting watched.”

Jisung’s head tips back against the couch, hoodie slipping down, pupils blown wide. “Holy shit.”

Your fingers brush his jaw. “C’mon, Officer Voyeur. Don’t get shy now.”

He doesn’t get shy. He malfunctions.

Because you’re straddling his lap before he can even blink, thighs warm through the paper-thin barrier of his joggers, robe slipping open just enough to make his brain leak out his ears. One second you’re teasing, breath against his neck, and the next you’re grinding slow, deliberate, like you know exactly what it does to him. Like you’ve memorized him.

He makes a sound. Choked. Half whine, half breathless moan. His hands flutter uselessly at your hips, hoodie sleeves bunched at his wrists, unsure if he’s even allowed to touch you.

You roll your hips again. Harder.

“F–fuck,” he gasps, bucking up just a little. “Wait—wait, I’m not—this isn’t—I’m not ready—”

“You’re already hard,” you purr, rocking against him. “Feels like you’re more than ready.”

He whimpers, hands finally gripping your waist like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the planet. His head tips back against the couch again, hoodie bunched at his throat, black bangs stuck to his forehead. Sweat beading already and you’ve barely touched him.

The red light blinks from the ceiling.

“You ever jerk off,” you murmur, sliding your hands up under his hoodie, fingers grazing bare skin, “thinking about someone finding the footage?”

His eyes snap open. He looks at you like you just kicked the air out of his lungs.

“I—n-no,” he stammers, flushing. “Maybe. Once. Shut up.”

You smile like a knife.

“Bet you’d look so pretty,” you whisper, leaning down until your lips brush his jaw. “Sprawled out in the security booth. Pants down, eyes on the screen. Mouth open. Begging.”

He moans. Real, raw, filthy.

“Jesus fuck, you can’t—” he gasps, hips jerking under you, cock straining against the thin cotton of his sweats. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You slide one hand between your bodies, palm flat against the heat of him. He jerks, bucks into your touch with a strangled noise, hands flying to your hips to hold you down as if that might stop him from unraveling.

It doesn’t.

“You wanna fuck me, Officer?” you whisper. “Or do you want me to keep putting on a show?”

He nods frantically. Then shakes his head. Then nods again. “I—both.”

You laugh, soft and wicked.

Then you lift just enough to tug his waistband down, cock springing free, flushed and leaking and so achingly hard he whines the second the air hits it. You sit back down slow, robe open now, pussy bare and already slick.

And Jisung’s brain just stops.

You’re wet—already wet—like you’d been waiting for this. Like you’d been thinking about it, touching yourself, fucking preparing before he even got here. His mouth parts, chest rising like he’s breathing too fast, too shallow, hoodie still clinging to him like a second skin. He can’t not picture it now—your fingers slipping between your thighs, sinking in, slow and lazy, while you watched the door and imagined him standing there like this. Squirming. Sweating. Begging.

“Fuck,” he chokes, voice cracked and desperate. “Did you—shit—did you touch yourself for me?”

You don’t answer. Just shift your hips, tilt your pelvis forward—showing him the mess between your legs, the glisten that coats your folds, the way you glide your fingers along your inner thigh like you already know what it’s doing to him.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, hips twitching, fingers flexing like he doesn’t know whether to grip the couch or your waist or his own goddamn hair. His cock jerks where it rests, leaking against his hoodie hem, angry and untouched. “You did, didn’t you? Fuck, you got yourself wet for me, you—fuck.”

His pupils are pure black now, lips wet, jaw slack—completely undone. Like the moment that image lodged itself in his head, he ceased to exist as a functional human being.

You reach for him—slow and sultry—and he swears he could come untouched if you so much as look at him like that again

You sink down.

“Oh—fuck,” Jisung gasps, whole body seizing, fingers digging into your hips so tight it’s almost painful. His head snaps back again, jaw slack, breath stuttering out of him in a broken rush. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy fucking shit—”

You take your time—rocking slow, grinding deep, letting him feel every inch of you. He’s so sensitive, so overwhelmed, twitching and gasping under you with every movement. One of his hands slips under your robe, palm splayed across your lower back like he’s scared you’ll disappear.

The red light blinks.

You press your mouth to his ear.

“Smile for the camera.”

He whimpers.

You ride him slow and filthy, watching his expression crumble under every grind of your hips. His voice is wrecked—soft, shaky gasps, breathless little moans, whining your name like it’s the only word he remembers.

“Feels—feels so good—holy shit, I’m not gonna—fuck, I’m not gonna last—”

“Then don’t,” you whisper, rolling your hips just right, “C’mon, baby. Let ‘em see what a mess you are.”

He spills with a choked-off sob, hips jerking, whole body trembling as you ride him through it, eyes glassy, jaw slack, thighs shaking under yours. He clutches you like he’s drowning, face buried in your shoulder, moaning your name into your skin.

The red light blinks.

Still recording.

You stroke his hair gently, smiling as he gasps against you.

“Officer Voyeur,” you murmur. “You gonna watch this later?”

Jisung can’t even answer.

______________________________________________________________

INT. SKZOTEL – CONFESSIONAL ROOM (A.K.A. MINHO’S JANITOR CLOSET)

[Camera clicks on.] Minho sits on an overturned mop bucket, legs crossed, eyes heavy-lidded. The room smells like lemon cleaner and apathy. There’s a security monitor propped on a rolling cart beside him, flickering softly with very NSFW footage.

He lifts a paper cup to his lips. Sips. Winces.

MINHO (flat):"Didn’t think I’d spend my Friday night watching our head of security get reverse-cowgirled into the next life, but..." shrugs "...here we are."

He sets the cup down. Rubs his temple like this is the third migraine today.

MINHO (cont’d):"Honestly? I’ve seen less raw emotion in Oscar-winning films. Man was crying. Mid-fuck."

A long pause. He turns to the camera.

MINHO (deadpan): "Camera three caught his soul leaving his body."

He clicks a remote. Screen behind him pauses on Jisung’s face: eyes rolled back, mouth open, pure chaos.

Minho gestures vaguely at it.

MINHO (cont’d): “Ten bucks says he’s gonna ask me to make a highlight reel.”

Another pause. He sips his coffee again. Nods.

MINHO (quietly): "...I'm gonna do it."

[END OF RECORDING]

series taglist: @nightmarenyxx @miyaluvvsyou @jisuperboard @fackeraccount @silly250 @lov3rachan @lze325 @angel-writes-here @jesuisstay @lov3rachan @lze325 @scribblesnsketches05 @jesuisstay @slut4junho @wickedbutlovely @woozarts @pixie-felix

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randomness-is-my-order · 3 months ago

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since weak hero class 2 is gonna come out very soon (finally!), i had to do some navel gazing with regards to season one and even after multiple watches of the show, i’ll always find the relationship between beomseok and sieun the most tragic fucking bond ever because amidst the massive fallout and very much foreground animosity that rose between beomseok and suho, sieun was the figure providing the most grace to beomseok, till the very end. sieun was the one who was sensitive and empathetic towards beomseok when his bullies targetted him again, when beomseok was undergoing a change of character, when beomseok revealed his home situation. as much as i love suho, the show made it a point to show his callousness towards beomseok’s bullying situation—in part because suho has never been at the bottom of the barrel due his strength and general personality; he does not understand because he has never been the weakest in the chain, but sieun knows, he understands. he’s aware of how bullies work, how they target any perceived weakness, how sometimes the one being bullied can’t do anything short of sacrificing their entire dignity and value system to make it stop (which isn’t always a guarantee anyway). how the one being bullied did not do anything “wrong” to provoke a reaction from the bullies, aside from existing.

the tragedy of season one is just how avoidable the final conflict was, if beomseok just tried to accept the concerned voice that was trying to help him, if he allowed himself to accept sieun’s care to soothe his insecurities over suho. it’s not that suho didn’t reach out—it’s that beomseok and suho were not speaking the same language. what beomseok did is inexcusable and i hope we never see him again and he gains no forgiveness or redemption but it fucking sucks that beomseok blamed suho for not understanding him but then ignored the one who was going the extra mile to meet him halfway, to offer help and empathy. till the last moment, sieun couldn’t bring himself to be violent towards beomseok (which was honestly the biggest metaphorical slap in the face the guy could receive) because how could he ever outdo and avenge the kind of rotten, sickening violence beomseok chose to employ towards his own friend? (and also because hitting him then would mean scores were being settled but what suho suffered through was in suspension and it did not deserve to have a definite resolution and also, beomseok’s too used to being hit for any mistakes/faults/flaws of his, when it is both deserved and underserved and sieun was, once again, being graceful in a painfully ironic manner by leaving beomseok unscathed but with a lesson that should rightfully scar his soul. he held back).

#weak hero class one just makes me sob everytime i think about it #also sieun my beloved he’s such a beautifull resilient character and his sensitivity is a huge part of him #he’s a badass fighter who uses his brains and is socially awkward but his ability to empathise and be kind is IMMENSE #even after beaten with a metal rod for god knows how long he chose to shield beomseok because he truly cared for him SO much #now he’s lost both his friends—and by one of them leading to the other’s coma —like i’d not wish this fucked up situation on anyone #here’s my prayer to see sieun smiling again in season two with his new gang of besties 🕯️#weak hero class one #weak hero class 1 #yeon sieun #oh beomseok #ahn suho #weak hero class 2 #park jihoon

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wandasaura · 2 months ago

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WHAT GOES AROUND (DOESN’T ALWASY COME AROUND)

summary — it’s not always easy balancing your life between being a decorated nyc detective and devoted wife. sometimes, it takes all hell breaking lose for the sun to start shining again.

warning(s) — established relationship, marriage, detective work, suspension, canon-compliant, mention of murder and sexual assault, gun mention, arrest, slight police brutality (its warranted), arguments, bickering, angst themes, workaholic tendencies, olivia benson and fin tutuola appearances, pet names, heated makeout, hair pulling, angry sex turned makeup sex, kitchen sex, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), scratching/marking, casey novak doesn’t know how to relax, porn with plot, men/minors dni

authors note — was inspired by this prompt list! 14 and 19 were used! more casey fics were requested! so, first casey smut in the books. enjoy :)

You | Not coming home tonight. Overtime with Fin.

You | Please don’t forget to take the laundry out of the dryer.

You | I love you.

The precinct was quiet for a change, voices replaced with the shuffling and rustling of paper. Every couple of seconds Fin drops his ballpoint pen to turn the page in his packet, the blue ink in the tube splattered against the translucent package, further affirming that he’d been tethered to his desk for unrelenting hours as the ink dried out. The white board across the room is still adored in pictures, some for identification purposes only, others to remind you all of the nature of these crimes; the absolutely heinous triple murder and sexual assault you were looking into with no conclusive lead.

It had been three days of little leads and dead ends, three days of collecting bodies that should’ve had a chance to flourish before they fell. Women aged eighteen to twenty three seem to be in the wheelhouse age range, no specific hair type, no personal ties to the victims or their families, but second hand parties aren’t always the most accurate account. You’re running out of leads to jump on. There’s two suspects left on the board before you’re back to the drawing board entirely, but there’s little hope on the horizon that a witch hunt through ViCap will bring to light any leads. The victims you know were bludgeoned, beaten over the head with something heavy but not eye catching. Not a bat that would catch eyes being lugged around Manhattan blocks from the batting cages. Not a crowbar that was easy enough to identify on the streets as a weapon of deadly potential when the wrong man was holding onto it. Melinda Warner hasn’t been able to conclusively rule what the murder weapon was, and the clues she’d given you to help complete the puzzle were as hopeless as the DNA evidence your suspect left behind. Not enough to run a full profile, if his DNA was even in the system at all, and somehow not enough to run a partial familiar recognition. You had a fraction of what you needed in a world full of bustling technology, and it was slowly driving you, along with everyone else in the precinct, crazy.

Casey hadn’t worked in months, nothing legal at least, so it was like she hadn’t been working at all. She’d offered a hand to a few people she knew, all behind the scenes, all with inches of space between her and the case to maximize the discreteness of her transgressions, but it wasn’t enough to disperse her restless energy. She was going crazy at home. living with the repercussions of her actions that she’d once so fearlessly pushed towards, but there was nothing you could do to make the next however many weeks or months easier for her.

It didn’t surprise you when your phone didn’t ping with her response right away, lying face up on the corner of your desk beside a mug of pens that have all seen better days. Your signature is wonky as you scratch it along the solid line at the bottom of the document form IAB, finally shoving all of the papers away from you once it was dried and set in place forever that you’d o given your attention and promise to the clause they were implementing.

Fin was still tangled up in paperwork, but he’d also been involved in a shootout where you hadn’t been. Things have been lively lately. Your partner changed like the wind depending on who Benson had on hand to delegate, your cases picked up like a California wildfire, and your home life was deteriorating the longer Casey was forced out of her livelihood.

“I need a snack.” You declare after a moment, the rumbling in your belly something unavoidable now. Fin glanced up from his desk, puppy dog brown eyes narrowing in on you. “You want anything?” You laughed softly, craning your head to psych out his stare.

“Yeah, get me some chips!” He called out, and you shook your head in amusement at the excitement in his tone. Odafin Tutuola was an oddly satisfying character to know. His finesse was amusing at times, when he played the role of the of the grown up hoodrat you couldn’t help but crack a smile, because that was so far from who Fin had turned out to be. He claims that this job hasn’t changed him, that he’s the same Narcotics detective he was over thirteen years ago, but you know better than that.

“Chips.” You nodded agreeingly at his request, stalking away from your desk with a relieved exhale. Tension gathered in your shoulders, weighing you down in a way that it never had when you’d first started this job, but years of surgery, recovery, and injury on the job paired with the natural progression of age and deterioration, well it was no shock that you walked with a hand on the center of your back, trying to work out so knot that had formed tight along your lower back.

You hadn’t even fed your dollar to the vending machine before Fin was calling your name, surprise lacing his tone when he projected through the precinct that ViCap had found a hit to a middle-aged Jonah Thompson, currently living in Queens, but working out of Manhattan with an auto body shop.

You didn’t hear your phone ping when you grabbed it off the desk and shoved it into your back pocket, racing after Fin who already had the keys to the cruiser in his palm. You slid your vests on before you got in the car, knowing that your suspect had lifted a gun from his latest victim who’d fearlessly sought to defend herself before she was taken by surprise and ambushed. A pediatric doctor. Emily Hartness. She was only twenty-six.

You called Benson on your way to Jonah’s job, traffic cameras picking up the last four digits of his license plate pulling into the body shop an hour ago. So far, he’d never moved a victim any farther than the hallway outside of their bedroom, so detaining him in the act didn’t even cross your mind as the door closed heavily on the cruiser and you and Fin stalked carefully into the building, radios at the ready to call for backup if things went south.

Fin trailed behind you, covering your six, the soles of his boots heavy as they crunched on dirty concrete. The entire shop was in disarray as you crept through it. Car parts were scattered on the ground, different tools were hooked up and looking half broken as they hung off of rusted hooks or just flat on the ground. There was no care, no passion. It was becoming clearer and clearer that this man wasn’t just fueled by anger, he was entirely controlled by it in every aspect of his life. The cars were treated with less respect than he promised the drivers, and the bodies of his victims were degraded and treated with as much carelessness.

The entire lower level was cleared, but when you took the stairs, Fin at your nine o’clock, a shadow of a fleeing individual caught your attention, and you raised your gun with intention, willing to shoot if it came down to it, willing to put your life before his if it promised Casey wouldn't’ have to grieve anybody else.

“Drop it! Drop it!” You shouted when it became evident that your suspect was gripping something in his hands, never turning to face you directly to give insight as to what kind of weapon he was holding. “Drop it!” The reverberations of your tone were haunting, and the guy, potentially Jonah Thompson, seemed to bristle beneath the force, whatever he held clattering to the ground. It was light. Definitely made of metal, but light. That was Warner's biggest stipulation when she’d first performed the autopsy. The murder weapon was definitely metal, some kind of steel, Warner had said steele, but she’d adamantly denied a crowbar being your weapon when you’d first insisted they were made of the same hard metal.

”Get on the ground!” Fin yelled, his shoulder brushing yours as he stalked in front of you to apprehend the suspect who sank into the concrete like all of his fight had left the room, disintegrated into the open air and never touched him at all. It was pathetic. You wouldn’t have preferred to chase him out into the street, wouldn’t have wanted to use your gun even if scum like him deserved a bullet to the heart, but it felt almost anticlimactic to catch one of the cities most dangerous killers and have him just crumble because you raised your voice. It truly gave the perfect image for the kind of people who do these unspeakable things at all.

“Would you look at that.” You reached down, picking up the tool that had been dropped and slid beneath a tool box. The sleek metal in your hands was cool to the touch, slightly rusted, but perfectly coated in droplets of blood that would stand up in court. “I’d say we just found our murder weapon, wouldn’t you, Detective Tutuola?”

“Hell yeah.” Fin scoffed, lugging the guy up to his feet and dragging him down the stairs and back toward the cruiser where red and blue lights paint the night sky with color. He’s shoved into the back of a squad car, two uniforms taking him in with pride. You pretended not to notice when Rhettley jammed his head against the top of the car, apologizing through a shit eating smile, before he slammed the door shut and gave you a nod.

Only once the other officers had cleared the scene did you and Fin load up, more than ready to call it a night and crawl home to your respective beds and wives as the sun rose over Manhattan with strokes of pink and practically white blue hues.

You fished your phone out of your back pocket at a red light, sighing when your eyes skimmed the text messages from four hours ago, Casey’s name and contact picture the only visible notification on your screen.

Casey | Eventually you’re going to have to come home.

“Trouble in paradise?” Fin asked, sensing your reluctance to crawl home and face the music.

“I’ve been here since Tuesday night. I’ll be surprised if there’s paradise to be found when I get home.” You shook your head, glancing down at the timestamp on your screen that mentioned it was nearing six in the morning on Friday. Three days since you’d seen Casey. Three days of devoting your every waking minute to getting justice for the women who were lost.

Fin whistled, shaking his head as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Man, this whole happy wives happy lives thing is bullshit. Who came up with that anyway?”

“A man who knew how important it was to keep his woman happy.” You settled him with a deadpan glare, because as often as Fin gave exceptional advice when you least expected him to have a single clue about the situation at hand, he was equally as spacey as any other men, and often forgot that you were one of those ‘women’ he was speaking of in frustration.

“Listen, I’m just saying, somebody has to draw the short stick sometimes. Can’t always be me.” Fin rolled his eyes, and you smirked at you let the unsettling feelings of Caesy’s frustration evade you for the time being.

“It amazes me that Phoebe hasn’t left your ass yet.” You hum, climbing out of the car when Fin pulled up to the precinct, parking next to Olivia’s sparkling black car that she’d inevitably taken through the car wash sometime after picking Noah up yesterday.

Benson was on you and Fin the second you entered the precinct, wanting to know every detail about the detention and arrest. You’d tastefully avoided the part where Thompson's head had been shoved against the squad car, but you think Olivia already has the picture in her head as a smirk falls onto her lips. It shouldn’t be there. Neither of you should be satisfied with the treatment of your suspect, but what goes around comes around, and you still don’t think it measures up in any way to the heinous acts he’d committed. His actions had irreparable consequences, the headache could be curd with tylenol and a couple quality hours of sleep; not that you figured it was your problem if somebody gave him tylenol or not.

“I’m gonna head out. That okay?” You asked Olivia once Fin had cleared out, always the first to leave when he had the chance. You couldn’t blame him, but it would never be you.

“Yeah. Get out of here. Go home.” Benson nodded, waving her hand around before she circled her desk and claimed a spot at the rolling chair she’d grown attached to since the last remodeling had occurred. It was no different from yours, but even you would agree that whenever you found yourself behind the Captains desk, her chair superseded the comfort and lower back support yours provided. “Detective!” Benson called when you turned away, heading toward the door with a hand on your back pocket, itching to text Casey and hope that she was already awake and making her morning coffee in the kitchen, some jazz music playing through the speakers, a song neither of you know, but don’t mind to listen to together silently. ”Good work.”

“Thanks, Captain. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m gonna take the day?” You knew Benson would be okay with it, she’d probably sing your praise for actually taking a break, her most effective and punctual Detective. She saw the sacrifices you made, the way you poured your heart into these victims and shamelessly allowed them to keep that tender part in their hands even after you parted ways. She saw how you let your home life go up in flames because whenever you gave into the desire to just hide away with Casey, somebody died. Somebody is always dying, but the guilt an officer feels when one happens when they’re off the clock is harrowing. She sees your pain, your sacrifices, your strength, and she can see that if your rope stretches any farther, it's going to snap.

“Of course.” Benson nods, and you smile when your eyes catch a picture of Noah on her desk, looking so big as he stood outside the elementary school with a broad grin and fearless blue eyes.

You didn’t drive to work. You never did. It gave you clarity to trek the blocks home after a shift, alone with nothing but your thoughts and fellow pedestrians as you mulled over cases and the bickering that fills the walls of your apartment when you do return home. You’re not avoiding her. Even with the fighting and the restlessness, she’s still your favorite person, your reprieve from the harsh world, but maybe you’re avoiding her a little bit. You’re avoiding the fear that she’s going to leave you over this; that you’ve finally done the one thing to push her away after years of knocking heads and making it work out of determination.

It’s quiet when you step inside, almost eight in the morning now, the sun fully risen overtop of Manhattan. Kids are flocking to school, parents are flocking to work, businessmen are hustling the streets down below with briefcases and leather loafers. But Casey remains wrapped up in a bubble of protective silence, standing out the counter with her shoulders squared, evidence of her frustration painting her stiff.

“I’m home.” You tell her softly, dropping your bag by the island, letting it clatter to the floor without even a second glance. The contents don’t matter, a broken screen can be replaced, a notebook splashed with water can dry or be repurchased. There’s no second Casey Novak on the streets of Manhattan though. A teenager behind a clerks counter can’t fix this if you let it break.

Casey hums, swirling a spoon around her mug of lightened coffee. The granulated sugar is pulled to the edge of the counter, the glass bowl refracting sunlight that splashes across it from the window where curtains are pulled to the side permanently by thin elastic bands.

You bought this apartment for the light that spills in consistently throughout the day. The large window behind the sink is the only one in this room, but as your eyestrail to the living room, they count six windows, and then they trail to the hallway, the setup memorized in the back of your head, you know that there are another eight concealed by bathroom doors nad bedroom walls. It bright, filled with sunshine and warm light, but it’s so cold in the kitchen that you shiver, passing weight between the balls of your feet ass you burn holes into Casey’s back.

“About time.” She hums, her tone dismissive, and it makes your heart stutter in your chest as you consider that its not frustration she’s overwhelmed with, it’s sadness, perhaps even jealousy. That hollow anxiety you’d forced yourself to deal with for hours settles into anger, your head tilting on an axis as you try to make sense of her short answer.

“We had an open triple murder, Casey. It’s not like I blew you off for drinks.” You argued weakly, not wanting to raise your voice at her; make this any bigger than it already is, but it's killing you that she won't even glance at you, or see your side of this in the slightest.

“This time. You had a triple murder case, this time. Last month it was the prostitution ring. The month before that it was pedophile going after previously abused children. How many passes do you think I can give before I stop counting on you coming home at all?! It’s been three days. Three days since you’ve come home!” It dawns on you how desensitized you’ve both become to the nature of these cases in conversation when she screams the world pedophile at you from across the kitchen, turning to face you with a burning heat in her cheeks. You don’t take the cases lightly, not you, not Casey when they reach the DA’s office, not Olivia while those transitions are happening, but in conversation, when the only things left to discuss are your work life, you hardly blink before using the world's worst terms so naturally.

“I gave you a pass — a million passes! — when the roles were reversed. When it was you spending every waking hour at the DA’s office, bargaining for favors and sacrificing your job. The one that provides for us! That helps me pay for this apartment! So yeah, a little understanding would be nice every once in a while, Casey.” You exploded initially, unable to keep yourself together in the face of her shameless hypocrisy, but your tone tapered off toward the end, soft and defeated as it washed against Casey who wasn’t ready to let her own emotions go, pulling you right back into the fire when her hands slammed on the counter and she stalked closer to you with a finger jutted out toward your chest. Without the vest, you feel vulnerable, and when her finger drives into your chest, it’s a sensation as sharp as a bullet wound that shoots through you.

“Do you have any idea what it feels like to be lonely in your own home? Of course you don’t, you’re never here!” Casey bubbled with rage, and your eyes darkened enough to sober her slightly, her lips wobbling when she took in your straight edge jaw and clenched fists.

“Do I have any idea how it feels to be lonely in your own home? Do I?! When you were working, how many nights did I wait up for you on the couch? How many nights did you come in after midnight and wake me up with some bullshit apology? It’s okay for you to get busy, for you to get caught up in a case, but not me? Casey, I invented being lonely at home while you were at work, doing what you love, offering somebody who just lost everything they had a slice of hope for the future. I dealt with it, because I knew that if I made it a problem, somebody out there who deserves the best gets less than for my own selfish benefit. That’s not who I am. That’s not something I would ever ask a victim to sacrifice. I’m sorry you’re bored. But you laid these stones to step on yourself. You abused the system. You went above people's heads for a favor. You let yourself get caught up on the taste of a conviction and you sealed your fate. I picked up the late shift because I couldn’t be here alone anymore. I work the overtime because what the fuck else was I going to do besides sit here and go crazy. I’m sorry that you can’t do what you love right now, baby, but this is not my fault, and I would really appreciate it if you stopped treating me like it is.”

If Casey had anything to say, it got caught on her tongue before it could make its way to your ears. She fumbled over words, her lips moving, jaw twitching, but nothing came out. Her eyes, how they held a million emotions all at the same time, were still alight with ebbing anger, but they glimmered with tears that she’d let fall too many times since she’d first been suspended. You scoffed, amazed at her silence, feeling your heart break in your chest as she offered no ounce of consolation or apology.

You were about to clap back at her, demand that she at least have the balls to respond when she’s the one that wanted to fight in the first place, but instead, her hands grab your cheeks and they pull you into her with an urgency that has you stumbling. Her lips are chapped. She stopped putting on chapstick so frequently after she got laid off. It’s a small thing, something you hadn’t noticed right away, but when you'd finally asked one night after passionately rolling around, she’d admitted that it was just something she forgot about now. She only ever rubbed her lips together with vanilla scented oil when she had someone to go up against, when there wasn’t time for her thoughts to be consumed with rough skin when she spoke.

Her tongue was soft, wet and warm as it licked across your bottom lip, begging for entrance that you weren’t ready to allow. You weren’t so easily moved from strong emotions, but Casey was unpredictable. One minute she’s on a rampage making her problems everyone else’s grief, and the next she’s acting like her claws never came out and scratched at the eyes of anyone in her path of terror. That’s what drew you to her in the first place; that fire. Its ever burning even now, her fingers pulling at baby hairs on the nape of your neck until you gasp in startled paint that jumpstarts the arousal gone dormant in your bones. It takes a second, one single second for Casey to reframe your way of thinking, for her to get you to let it all go and live in the fairytale that exists when the outside world falls away. It's gone entirely, there’s still an annoying anger in your belly that churns when you remember she’d overlooked your own suffering for years.

Her tongue assaults yours, lapping at taste buds that haven’t had anything outside of water wash over them in hours. You’re sure it’s a dull taste, one that winds her up and lets her down, but she never stops chasing the texture of your tongue rubbing against hers, advancing in her lust as she chooses to hollow her lips and create a suction around your own wet muscle, sucking until your eyes flutter closed and your breath is stolen from your lungs and she pulls away because she has to, not because she wants to.

“I’m sorry.” She pants, smashing her forehead against hers. The wide tip of her nose has always bumped yours when she gets close like this, and now is no different. She inclined her head just slightly to trace the slope of your nose with hers, her eyes a shade of yellowing-green peering into the depth of your emotional stare becoming corrupt with lust. Her breath is heavy, hot and twinged with faint spearmint as it fans across your upper lip, peach fuzz tingling beneath the sensation.

Your eyes flicker between her lips, plush and wet and just slightly swollen from your make-out, and back to her eyes that are blown with passionate desire admiration can’t spark. Weeks of silently treading waves have led to this moment, and a subsequent reckoning force is the only way the dust will come to settle. ”Just make it up to me.” You pant before you lean in again, stealing a kiss that she leans into with vigor.

She makes light work of the buttons on your pants while she kisses you, her nimble fingers unlatching the button that had dug into your belly all day. It hadn’t phased you at the time, for the last three days that you’ve recycled the same pants in favor of saying room in your locker for spare blouses, but when the pressure finally breaks, you melt into Casey’s touch, desperate for it to wander farther down until there’s no anger left to quench.

“No, I’m not done.” You pant when she begins to break the kiss, her hands wandering down your sides now as the waistband of your pants sags around your hips, one small movement away from falling and revealing the rather unflattering black underwear you’d carted with you in a bag the day you’d transferred into the precinct. It didn’t need to be sexy to save your ass in times like these — quite literally.

Casey wasn’t listening to you, and that brought every spark of passion back to the surface as you huffed through your nose, grabbing a handful of her until she complied with the guiding motions of your hand. “I said I’m not done.” You repeated breathlessly, leaning in to capture her in a bruising kiss that you dominated for only a second before she took initiative, backing you up into the island until the knot in your lower back met the sharp edge of the countertop.

When you pulled away, cheeks flush, a sheen coating your skin as the heat of the exchange caught up to you, Casey nipped at your bottom lip, trailing her sharp bites along your jaw until her teeth settled around your earlobe. The diamond flat back earrings she’d gotten you for your birthday were cold against her tongue as she teasingly flicked the muscle against your earlobe. “Are you gonna let me keep going now?” She husked, her voice thick with arousal, vibrato low and resonating within your ear as it bounced and tumbled and tickled every nerve you didn’t know you had until right now.

“God damn it, Casey.” You groaned, head tilting, lulling to the side to give her ample room to destroy your skin with everything she has. It’s a learned dance, a practiced action. She avoids the visible areas, the ones that stick out from the collar of your uniform or the neckline of your blouse. The same tender inches of your shoulder have been marked with her bite time and time again, you know the next move of her lips without having to think about it, but when she sinks her teeth into the side of your neck, a spot she’s only ever touched before on the rare extended vacation you take yearly, everything goes black for a minute as you surrender to the sparks of vibrant euphoria. “Keep going.” You pant, not really a plea, but the breathless steals your confidence and Casey’s taunting dulls your senses too much to realize the anger is melting, fading and ebbing.

As Casey sinks to her knees, she drags her fingers down your sides, her touch light, faint and delicate. You shudder, and the twinge in your spine as you twist remains you of the knot in your back. She must notice the way you tense for only a second, because she digs her fingers into your hips in just the right way to quell the spasming in your muscles for a while. It’s a wordless exchange, but one that reminds you she knows your body inside and out even in bouts of blinding frustration.

She makes a soft sound when she sees your underwear, but nothing comes to follow it. Nothing matters to her right now outside of finding pleasure in your release at her control. The need to constantly control everything is inevitably going to break Casey apart entirely, but for right now, this silent moment in the kitchen, you lean into the promise that you don’t have to think about anything when she’s around.

“Open your legs.” She whispers, but without any other sound happening in the apartment, there’s no reason for her to be any louder. A wanting moan falling off of your lips when you comply with the request and she doesn’t waste a second with further teasing. She has no care for teasing right now, that’s been clear from the very start, but you can’t say you mind her ambition when it becomes a tongue licking a broad stripe up your core, flat and hard enough to shock you with pressure that does exactly what it needs to.

”Fucking hell.” You moan, reaching down to grab handfuls of her hair, uncaring if it hurt her scalp that you knew very well to be incredibly sensitive. You couldn't think of anything outside of the fireworks of white sparks that shot up through your core until they somehow landed in your fingertips and toes.

Her tongue flicks at your clit with strong strokes, and just when you think she’s giving you her all, two fingers probe your weeping entrance that pulses around nothing, begging to be filled and used and touched in any capacity at all right now. Casey groans when she finds stringy evidence of your arousal painted along your labia, tangy and delusionally sweet in her mind as she plunged her knuckles farther into your core and let her tongue meet where they met slick skin.

It’s frivolous, messy, harsh, uncoordinated motions that become your inevitable undoing. Casey’s fingers scissors your walls open despite the protest from your body, wanting to squeeze her tight and never relinquish its grip. She curled her fingers into that spongy part, the one that was right beneath your clit that her teeth nipped at and her tongue soothed dutifully. There was no warning leading up to your explosion, your release that had been needed for days on end as you’d found it impossible to relax with a suspect at large and seemingly anyone on his radar.

“Oh fuck.” You moaned, head lulling backwards as your forearms dropped to the counter, supporting your weight as she continued to work her fingers into you, easing the edges of your climax away with tenderness. “Damnit.” You muttered when you attempted to straighten your posture, but that knot in your back kept you hunched uncomfortable. Somewhere in the pursuit of the suspect, you’d stumbled into the railing of a staircase bent to shit and definately a safety hazard — as you were now an example — but it hadn’t fully dawned on you until now when everything had gone tense and loose again in seconds.

Casey sighed fondly, not needing to ask what was wrong because she knew, she always knew when she wasn’t so clouded with her own frustration and envy like a fool. “You hurt your back again?”

“Ran right into a damn gate.” You said softly, still panting, still flush, but less wound tight with anger, more willing to be the compassionate girlfriend you’ve prided yourself on being. “If it gets hard being here alone, I need you to tell me that, not give me the cold shoulder and expect me to read your mind. Okay?”

“It was easier to be mad at you than to accept that I’m the only reason my life is falling apart. Every time I think I’ve come to terms with it, made peace with what I felt I had to do… I remember how much I’m missing out on because one bad guy got under my skin.” Casey sighed, finally maintaining enough mental clarity to find a reason for her hot and cold emotions, and once it was in the air, spoken between the both of you, any problem faded away. “I’m sorry.”

“All is already forgiven.” You whisper as you lean in close, humming softly against her lips when she kisses you sweetly.

#casey novak #olivia benson #odafin tutuola #ada casey novak #casey novak x reader #olivia benson x reader #fin tutuola x reader #casey novak x you #casey novak smut #casey novak angst #casey novak fic #casey novak oneshot #law and order: svu #minors dni ৎ୭

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svnscape · 20 days ago

Text

40 - i don’t know

it’s been almost three months. three months since those sad pathetic texts of yours were looking back at you like they were mocking you.

three months of you looking frantically at any notification that settles into your phone, in hopes that it would be him. that it would be haechan texting you back.

but all you got was a sad small “delivered” under your very idiotic texts for three long and dreadful months.

you had managed to move, settle down in an apartment barely five minutes way from your new campus, go on summer vacation with lara renjun and jeno, have jeno come visit you multiple times and nag you about the horrible plumping system in your new apartment and yet, nothing had changed.

you had managed to do so many things during those months but none of which calmed down your anxiety and your need to get in contact with haechan.

to be honest you could’ve done more if you wanted, for example, by reaching out to his friends or finding another mean of communication.

but you were scared.

you were scared of looking stupid now that the tables have turned and you were on the receiving end of this frustrating silent treatment. the same one you were giving to haechan.

but his lasted way longer than yours and you were slowly getting worried that something has happened to him.

you checked his socials so many times only to find that the last time he’s been active was during graduation.

his abandoned instagram account was still dead silent and what worried you the most is that his friends were equally as silent.

even zhong chenle the oversharer.

you asked jeno and nagged him to ask jaemin but all he gave you was a questionable nose scrunch and a side eye.

not even lara, a master in stalking, was able to find haechan’s whereabouts.

and it killed you, specially since you had no right to complain about this or victimize yourself since this was absolutely your own doing.

a consequence of your many unsolved traumas, fears and unshakable avoidance, all which mark had a huge molding hand in.

but that was not the point right now.

the point is that you were ten minutes away from starting a new chapter of your life without properly ending and neatly folding the page of the previous one.

how could you start again when all you were thinking about was the last line of that chapter?

a line that was smudged and ruined because of your own fears and doubts. the suspense of “what could’ve happened” gnawing away at your comfort.

sweat was slowly forming on your neck right below your now long hair, as you stood very still in front of the big and glossy wooden door of your designated classroom.

first day of this masters program and you already wanted to go home and get on your phone to spend your day stalking haechan’s unwavering socials without daring to send him another next.

but that wasn’t an option as you hear a deep and husky voice emerging from inside the classroom, signaling that this introduction presentation had already started whilst you’ve been daydreaming in front of this poor harmless door.

with a huge sigh and a silent mantra, you open the door and wince when you notice how everybody was now looking at you as you obviously interrupted the now aggravated old and evil looking professor.

you quietly apologize and jog up the small stairs inside the room to take place in the furthest seat you could find, hoping that it’ll make people forget about you already.

the professor clears his throat and continues introducing the program and you were now slowly regretting choosing it seeing how much work and effort you needed to pour into it. something you obviously didn’t have at the moment as you felt yourself slowly starting to yawn, sliding down the chair and putting a hand over your mouth in an attempt to hide it.

you almost started dreaming, deep in sleep, when the main door of the classroom opened, jolting you awake from your nap with the way it sound echoed in the rather big classroom.

so much for KwangyaU being a prestigious university in comparison to NCTU, you thought with a small smirk, eyes still sleepy and closed.

“now this is getting annoying and disrespectful! the presentation started almost twenty minutes ago” you hear the professor growl into the small black microphone positioned right below his chin.

“i’m sorry i got lost”

no way.

you almost stood up upon hearing that familiar sultry and velvety voice.

a voice you were begging the universe to let you hear again.

you straighten your back and gulp multiples times in a row before you made a slight effort to look at the silhouette standing a hundred seats away from yours.

he slowly turns away from the professor to face everyone and bows again. a hand clutching at his familiar black backpack.

it was him.

it was haechan.

but you barely recognized him as he was slowly going up the stairs, looking for a vacant seat.

he looked wrecked and you wondered if it was solely because of you or because of something else.

you needed to stop thinking that the whole world revolved around you, you thought, watching him stand for a few minutes, waiting for the person to give him space so he could sit down in the middle of the row that was two lines ahead of yours.

but he looked so different. his whole demeanor was different.

again, you had barely recognized him.

the cheeky haechan with the rosy cheeks and the mischievous smile and glint in his eyes.

that haechan was gone.

this haechan though looked pale, eyes dimmed and dark which made them seem like they were black when in reality you knew were a dark shade of brown, a brown you memorized whenever you looked straight into his eyes.

that brown hair of his was now long gone and replaced with jet black hair, longer than you’ve left it a few months ago.

he settles down in his seat and his head immediately hits the table for a rest.

no wonder. he looked exhausted.

everything about him felt dark and it almost bruised you in a way that angered you.

you were deeply and still very much infatuated.

it was time to make peace with it maybe .

maybe, because the anger and frustration towards him were now long gone after those horrible excruciating weeks of silent treatment.

it was now replaced with pure worry and care.

care that made you eye haechan for the whole hour that was left of this never ending presentation.

every inhale and exhale. every sigh. every slight movement of his fingers touching the back of his other hand.

everything.

you were itching to talk to him. to catch up. to watch him and analyze him and his changed behavior.

to hug him. to kiss him.

your thoughts were going so fast, your leg bouncing up and down, restless, as you were watching every move of his.

to be honest you had no clue how to talk to him and how to start a conversation. at the end of the day, you were the one who left him stranded and ghosted him after a good fuck.

a good fuck in which he tried to confess to you during it.

then the multiple confessions of his, bullying your phone’s notification and your subconscious, that was yelling at you to finally unleash it all.

you knew it very well.

that was not goodbye.

at least not to your heart.

that whole thing made it worse as you felt like you left a piece of yourself beside him that night.

it was during that night when you’ve found out that your feelings for haechan weren’t just simple and fun.

they went so deep inside the layers of your heart and laced themselves with complication and doubt.

maybe even guilt.

because why would you fall so deeply for someone so fucked? someone who fucked you over so bad.

you didn’t know how to answer that question to this day and frankly, you didn’t want to because hell, do we really choose the people we fall in love with?

absolutely not.

no, because as soon as the professor gave his thanks and started gathering his stuff, you found yourself bolting out of that room, your eyes fixed on haechan’s bouncing hair and fast smooth legs, visible, as he was wearing black simple shorts.

your voice betrayed you and you couldn’t even call for him but you were so close behind him.

so close you could smell his signature fresh orangey smell. so close you could see his silky black hair and the faint visible brown strands that were slowly appearing.

“h-haechan!”

finally.

you watch him abruptly stop walking. his whole body froze in place as the hand that was clutching the strap of his backpack fell down next to his hips.

but he doesn’t turn around and that makes your heartbeat grow faster, if that was even possible.

you couldn’t even move your body but your eyes were moving like crazy, going from left to right waiting for his reaction.

but nothing.

absolutely nothing.

“hae-”

he turns around.

and you see it.

the exhaustion. the disappointment. the happiness. the memories.

you see it in his beautiful face and it makes you smile.

he’s starting to look like the haechan you knew.

he carefully steps forward, making his way to you, his eyes never leaving yours, making you swallow in nervousness.

his face was now in front of yours, his eyes scanning your whole body before they land right back on yours, a small smile gracing his face.

“how have you been?”

his voice was now huskier than usual. it kind of takes you by surprise even though you’ve heard it an hour ago.

“uh i-i’m fine, fine thank you, and you? how have you- ho-how are you?”

you were so fucking nervous and the way he was looking at you, body absolutely still in confidence, was making you loose your words.

it was kind of reminding you of the first few days of your rivalry-filled endeavors with him.

and man were you so close to crying when he nodded softly, eyes closing for a second before opening again, a small soft glint reflecting in them.

“i’m alright. i’ve been mentally preparing myself to start a new life with new people and new experiences. never really thought i’d see you here, or anywhere actually”

new people?

“i- i see, okay and me too”

he nods again, playing with the gathering dust right below his feet as he gazed down there, finally giving you a break so you could gather some fathomable words and thoughts.

“h-” “y/n?”

fuck. he beat you to it.

“yes?”

“don’t beat yourself up. i can see it” he chuckles.

you bite your lip so hard you were sure you bruised it, all of that to prevent yourself from bursting out in sobs in the middle of this packed hallway and in front of him.

how the fuck was he able to read you like an open book when he didn’t even know you for that long.

it made it all worse. it made your feelings for him even stronger, so, worse.

“i- no, i’m not beating myself up” you blatantly lie.

“y/n… don’t. i can see it” he repeats, softer this time.

“haechan i-”

“don’t”

this time you felt a single tear make its way down your cheek and right to the corner of your lips, the saltiness of it giving you whiplash as you finally realize you were now crying.

“don’t apologize to me. it’s gonna make me feel like shit”

“haechan let me finish” you sniffle, wiping away your tears as you get closer to him.

he looks down and you almost catch the way his eyes turned glossy and the way his lips quivered.

“i-i missed you so much. so fucking much” he looks up to the ceiling, barely whispering those words to you, making that ache nestled in the middle of your chest even worse, you could almost swear you heard yourself groan in pain.

you watch him look back at you again but this time it was completely different, different with the way he was biting his quivering lips, eyes all shiny with tears as he was obviously struggling to keep it all inside.

“then why did you never answer my texts. i mean i know they’re not that informative but you- you could’ve at least replied, or called, like i asked you to”

“i couldn’t” he says after clearing his throat, not making eye contact with you.

“what do you mean?”

“i- i just couldn’t. i was hurt and tired and before you say it, i know i had no right to be feeling that sort of way with the way i treated you but y/n- i- it fucking hurt”

“w-what hurt?”

he chuckled and it was harmless.

harmless to him but not to you because your knees got weaker when you saw his whole face twist and twitch, tears threatening to fall down.

he was not okay and not that you wanted to make everything about yourself, but you obviously played a part in the way his exhaustion was beyond visible on his face.

“i told you i love you. so many times i lost count. and you never replied. i think i would’ve rather you’d curse me and tell me to fuck off then completely ignore me and make me feel like my feelings didn’t amount to anything. y/n you had sex with me and told me it was over then completely dipped out of my life, not even sparing me a second chance or even a second glance. y/n i tried telling you i love you that night but y-”

“i love you. i love you haechan”

haechan looks at you, eyes wide and mouth agape. his round eyes were so wide open and fixed of you it almost looked like time froze.

“i lo-”

“not like this” he cuts you off.

“what”

“that’s pity not love”

you almost stumble back.

“haechan- oh my god no! i love you! i do i- okay this looks horrible but oh my god haechan i was dying during those few months. i know that i’ve been mean and cold to you at the end and i’m so sorry. i’m sorry but haechan i was scared. i was scared because i realized how much i love you and it didn’t make sense to my brain even though it made perfect sense to my heart. i almost felt bad for myself and told myself i’d never let it happen but god did i try and god did it feel like ass” you laugh taking a breath “it felt horrible to not have you in my life anymore”

he blinks away his tears and gets closer to you.

“i’ve been miserable y/n. doubting myself and my surroundings. i thought i’d never hear those words from you. this feels m- it feels unreal”

“it’s real”

haehcan gulps and stays silent for a few minutes, making you stir in anxiety.

“but y/n. do you think we could ever be in a normal relationship? because i don’t think so. nothing about this” he moves his index finger in the air separating you both “nothing about this is typical. i know you said you love me and i said i love you but would we ever overcome the circumstances?”

you blink like a confused toddler.

why was he saying this?

he sees the way you were looking at him and he steps even closer to you, taking your hands in his.

“i’m scared i’ll hurt you again. i’m scared you’ll ignore me again when you realize i’m not what you want. would you actually be willing to give me another chance y/n? to do this properly? take you on dates, actually get to know you, kiss you properly, ask you out, make love to you properly, would you?” you saw the way his dry lips were slightly shaking and the way the corner of his eyes turned glossy again.

you ponder and think for what seems like forever but haechan wasn’t bothered.

he was standing still, eyes, as usual, never leaving yours, as he patiently waits for your answer.

this was absolutely tormenting the both of you.

so you speak. anticlimactically.

“i don’t know” you respond out loud.

“what?”

“i don’t know haechan”

you truly didn’t know.

you didn’t know much about all of that.

but you knew one thing.

so you say it, again.

“all i know is that i love you. isn’t that enough?” you grip his hands tighter in yours.

haechan smiles at you sadly.

“when did we get so serious with eachother?”

that made you giggle through the tears and you now put your hands on his shoulders.

“i don’t know about that either”

“this is going in a totally different direction than i thought it would, not that i ever thought i’d see you again and talk to you like this ” he blows out an airy chuckle, gripping your hips “i feel dizzy and confused. it’s weird”

“nothing about us is usual. you’ve said it yourself haechan”

he nods and nods again when he sees you smile.

“i- i just feel happy to see you again. guess we’re meant to be academic rivals forever” he says in awe, looking at the high ceilings of this KWU hallway.

you snort, digging your nails in his shoulders.

“at least that’s clear about us. it’s like a sign”

“a sign?”

“a sign that no matter what, we’re meant to be close to each other someway somehow”

“and that’s enough for you to know if you’d like to try this out for real?”

“try out? the rivalry again or the relationship?”

he pulls you closer to him, face barely a few inches away from yours as he whispers in your ear.

“both? since we don’t know. maybe we should try and see where it takes us”

“you know you can’t resist me”

“then why didn’t you say it from the beginning. why say you don’t know” he whines loudly.

you laugh.

“i like to keep you on edge” you say, like old times.

“so you do know!” he giggles “you know! you know that you’ll give me another chance, even if there’s a possibility that it won’t work”

“i don’t know lee haechan. i just love you. so i’ll love you”

you feel him nod in the crook of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer as he hugs you, a sigh of content leaving the both of you in absolute sync, making you both giggle.

after a few silent moments, he pulls you away to finally look at you.

and then he finally says.

“okay…. and i’ll love you too y/n”

so that is what you do, for now.

i hate u? i love u? season one — THE END.

prev — m.list — epilogue

taglist: @bbykaixx @alwayswonbinning @weepingsweep @dudekiss3r @kukkurookkoo @hoeingthefuckup @gomdoleemyson @haeclips @luvvhaechan @hsified @heegyuwrld @lubunnii @firydst @daengiez @nahyuckers @httpsxnox @n0hyuck @hi00000234567 @scoobysnackszoo @minkyuncutie @yuthabitz @haechology @neogotmysam @sanniekook @kisseokiss @nqyzhuo @kooookie @lovenha7 @andassortedkpop @jising-jisang-jisung @markleesleftpinky @ourbeautifulaffair @dilflover44 @nctdreamchaser @leehaechie @nosungluv

a/n: oh my god it’s over….

i can’t believe i hate u i love u is done. there’s an epilogue still but the official chapters are over!!!!

i’ll leave my sincere and long thanks for the a/n of the epilogue but seriously thank you so much for tuning in. it’s been an absolute joy to write this and interact with you while you react to whatever i post. can’t believe we’ve been doing this for over a month!!!!

i wanna hear ALL your thoughts about this chapter and well the whole smau since it’s over (maybe you’ll have more things to say after the epilogue).

so please come to my replies and asks and talk to me, how was it? what did you like the most about the smau? feedback? questions? more backstory? ANYTHING!! just tell me cause i wanna hear your thoughts and everything you have to say.

i hope this ending was satiating enough for you. and that the last few texts didn’t leave you uneasy hehehe

again, tysm!!! i’ll be waiting for you guys in my asks. mwah and i love you.

144 notes · View notes

minniesmutt · 1 year ago

Text

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐲

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: OT8 X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: UNPROTECTED SEX, TEASTING, AFTERCARE, PET NAMES, DEGRADING/PRAISE, EXHIBITIONISM/VOYEURISM, SHOE GRINDING, BONDAGE, COLLAR, SPANKING, ANAL FINGERING, SEX TOYS, BONDAGE, FILMING, PET PLAY, GAGS, ORAL (M+F REC), MENTION SAFE WORE (TRAFFIC LIGHT SYSTEM), GANGBANGM ROUGH SEX, PARTNER SHARING, SUSPENSION, DYCRYPHILIAM OVERSTIM, ORGASM CONTROL, UNPROTECTED SEX, CHOKING, CHOKE HOLD, MULTIPLE CREAMPIES, TIT SUCKING, EDGING, DP (A+V), GROPING, CUM SHOT, FACE SITTING, MANHANDELING PUBLIC SEX, EDGING, SPIT ROAST, NIPPLE PLAY, FOOD MENTIONS ☾ ━━━ WC: 7K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

It became a tradition. Getting completely fucked into the mattress by Seungmin the night before his baseball games. Stress relief or good luck, he claimed both. Especially with it being their game that decided if they went to the finals in their college league.

“Fuck!” Y/n cried as he hit one particular spot inside of her while he had her in a mating press.

“Feel this greedy cunt wanting to come,” Seungmin grunted “Maybe I should tie you up for the whole team to fucking use.”

He delivered a hard slap to the back of her thigh just as she came on his cock. Hard too.

Seungmin wasn't far behind either. A few more pumps and he was painting her walls with his cum. Letting her milk him dry before pulling out.

“How you feel bub?” Seungmin inquired as he pulled her out of the position and kissed her abused body.

“Good,” Y/n smiled. Loving how he could go from a fucking menace in bed to the sweetest person on the planet.

“Not to mean?” His lips landed on her cheeks

“No. You were perfect Min. Always are.” Y/n pulled his lips to hers as he chuckled at her compliment.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Seungmin got both of them in a bath and cleaned both of them up before just cuddling in the warm water.

“Would you let the boys gangbang me?” Y/n asked

“Do you want them to?” Seungmin questioned.

“I’m not opposed to being tied up and used.”

“How long has that fantasy been running around in that little brain of yours?” Seungmin moved one hand from around her shoulders to tilt her head back to look at him “Thinking about my friends fucking you with me?”

“Not long. Just registered what you said,” Y/n answered, “thought it would be hot.”

“You're a hundred percent okay if I ask?” Seungmin questioned

“Yeah. I trust you and the guys.” Y/n told him.

“I’ll talk to them,” Seungmin smiled before turning her around to kiss her lips. Y/n smiled and kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Seungmin did talk to his friends after their game, which they won. They talked in their locker room as they waited for all eight to be done changing out of their uniform.

“Really?” Changbin asked

“She said she was okay with it and she trusted us. We’ve talked about a threesome a few times so it’s not like a surprise.” Seungmin shrugged

“Gangbang is a big jump from a threesome,” Minho sighed as he sat on the bench.

“Yeah. I knew you both were into some harder kinks but letting all seven of us sleep with Y/n?” Jeongin said

“It’s not like I’m not gonna be there. And I’d honestly rather it be you guys than some random guys neither of us know.”

“He makes a valid point,” Chan shrugged as the last of them finished up and everyone grabbed their bags to leave

“When would we even do this and where?” Jisung asked

“We usually have sex the night before a game and after at the apartment. Do it next game?” Seungmin suggested which everyone agreed to as they walked out of the locker room. The girl they were all talking about fucking, waiting for her boyfriend outside said locker room. Smiling and walking over to the eight of them.

“Good job out there guys!” Y/n told them as she wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s waist, wearing his jersey.

“Thanks,” they all said in unison before the couple waved them off and went their way.

“It's weird knowing they're going to have sex right now,” Minho shrugged as the rest erupted in a chorus of asking why he would put that image in their heads

The whole week, after the team won, was heavy in practice. The game was the last of the season so there was a fair amount of stress, but when you had a captain like Chan, there didn't feel like a lot of pressure.

After they finally finished batting practice on their Wednesday practice, Chan called it a night. Everyone sat on the bench or the ground took in a few deep breaths, and chugged their water before going back to the locker room.

“Seungmin,” Minho said, catching the star players' attention.

“Minho,” Seungmin replied.

“What's Y/n into?” the older one asked, causing a few of them to choke on their water

“How much time do you have?” Seungmin said

“This goes past locker room talk,” Chan said

“Whats locker room talk?” Y/n’s voice said.

A few of them froze as the girl walked up to the group.

“Hey bub,” Seungmin greeted his girlfriend

“Hey pup,” Y/n said, “What were you guys talking about?”

“Asking your boyfriend what you’re into,” Minho answered

“I should say I didn’t tell her you guys agreed,” Seungmin said

“Were you planning to?” Felix asked

“Probably not. Knowing him, the asshole would have blindfolded me and made it a game,” Y/n sighed

“You would have been into it,” Seungmin argued

“To answer you’re question Minho, yes.” Y/n gave him such an ominous answer that it made the others positive she and Seungmin were perfect together.

Y/n walked with them back to the locker room and then waited outside for them to change.

“Would it be too weird to suggest we do it in here?” Jisung said

“Sometimes you have a wonderful brain Jisung,” Minho smiled

For one reason or another, that sparked some inspiration amongst the group, while the girl outside had no idea what was going to happen this coming weekend. Their conversation stopped when they got outside. Seungmin wrapped his arm around her as they all headed to their cars to go home for the night.

Seungmin didn’t have many classes the following day. A couple in the morning but that was it. So he prepared a few things they needed for Friday.

“What are you doing?” Y/n asked as she came home from class to him setting up wireless cameras in their living room. The ones you use to spy on your pets when you're away.

“Setting up,” He simply said before turning to her and smiling.

“If I asked, would you tell me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Thought so.”

Y/n let him do his thing. She trusted him and the guys. She acted oblivious to it but she knew her boyfriend had informed the guys of what her kinks and turn-offs were, safe words— verbal and nonverbal. Well aware of what was happening but it was fun playing dumb.

The couple made their way back to their apartment after their last class on Friday for the day. Seungmin had some time before his practice and used it to prep his girlfriend. Ever the sadist he was.

Stripping his girlfriend as soon as he got their door locked. Seungmin dragged her over to the couch and sat her down on the floor. Y/n looked up at him as he sat in front of her. “Good pup,” he smiled as moved one of his shoes to nudge under her cunt.

Y/n lifted herself a bit and let him slide under her cunt. Y/n sat on his shoes and slowly started grinding against him. The rough fabric on his shoes and the coolness of the leather made her moan. Seungmin smiled down at her as she leaned her body into his leg.

“Get that little cunt all wet for me and the guys,” Seungmin laughed as she rutted against his Converse.

Y/n whined as he just sat and watched her hump his shoe. After a while, he pulled his shoe away from her as she whined more. Begging to make her cum before he left.

Seungmin smiled as he got up and left his needy girl there for a moment. He came back with her toy basket. An organized basket they put together when they started exploring harder kinks. In it held a tail and ear set, a collar and leash, a few gags, various vibrators, dildos, anal toys, and lube. He had put a pair of leather cuffs on top and rope before coming back. His other hand held two spreader bars. Went back down the hall once for towels too

Y/n bit her lip to hide her smile as he set the basket on their coffee table. Seungmin stopped for a moment before pulling their coffee table out of the way, and opening the room up. He grabbed the towels and placed them on the ground, covering the floor. Then he grabbed a pillow from the couch and put it in the middle of the floor.

The baseball player grabbed her collar and stood behind her. He wrapped the collar around her before dragging her to the pillow, still having her face the couch. Y/n followed him on all fours and kneeled on the pillow.

Seungmin smiled, grabbed the cuffs, and wrapped them around her wrist. He gently pushed her onto her hands and got behind her. Two fingers ran through her folds before running his fingers to her ass. He watched her clench around nothing and laughed before landing a spank on her ass.

He moved back to the basket and grabbed the lube and her tail anal plug and a dildo. Seungmin kneeled behind her, squirting the lube between her cheeks. She flinched a bit at the coolness against her heat.

One finger pressed against her tight rim. Slowly making way for him as he thrusted his finger in and out of her. Y/n moaned and dipped her head down to take in the pleasure. Just for Seungmin to yank her back by the collar. Y/n gasped at the choking feeling before he let her go. Y/n lay on the floor as he added a second finger into her ass and started scissoring her open till he was sure she could take the plug.

He knew full well she could too. He pulled his finger out and grabbed the toy. He coated the metal plug in the lube and pressed the tip to her hole. Slowly working it inside of her, calming her down when she would clench around the metal. Smiling and praising her when he got the toy fully inside of her. He got up grabbed the spreader bar from to table and wrapped the cuffs around her ankles, taking her knees off the pillow.

He inserted the dildo into her aching cunt. The toy slipped in with ease because of how wet she was. He sat her up and grabbed her puppy ears and bone gag. The last little piece to the puzzle before he got ready for practice.

“Behave. Remember sir sees everything,” He patted her cheek before walking off to shower and weather his gear. It was a shorter practice today. Usually was before a game so the guys could rest. The camera he had installed was focused straight on his girlfriend and he had the live video up— having set it up on the end table by their couch— and watched her while in the room. He noticed her leaning forward more and her hips moving. He sighed and zipped up his bag and walked out of the room.

She didn’t notice him but now he wasn’t watching the video, he could see her grinding against the pillow. He set his bag on the table and grabbed the rope. Happy they installed the durability hook they claimed to their building was for a hanging house plant when they asked why. It indeed was not for a house plant.

He made his way over and grabbed her cuffs to her surprise. He removed the cuffs and did a quick knot with the rope around her wrists before throwing the longer bit over the hook in their ceiling. Y/n whined against her gag as he leaned down behind her. He pulled the rope till she was sitting over the pillow but the dildo was still able to sit inside her. He tied the remaining end of the rope to the bar and made sure everything was in place and sitting right.

“I’ll be back in an hour. Control yourself pup. And don’t think about cumming tonight,” Seungmin told her once more before grabbing his bag and turning off the lights in the apartment to make it look like no one was home.

This wasn’t something new. Seungmin loved messing with her like this. Leaving her tied up while he went out, even for a few minutes. Both loved the thrill they got from it. So Seungmin got in the car and went back to campus to his short practice with the guys. Mainly refining a few things and going over plays before they were in the locker room, all a little antsy to get out and to the couple's apartment.

Seungmin told them what he was doing to her before he left for practice but their jaws dropped when they saw the camera footage. The guys booked it out before their boners got worse and made their way to the apartment. Acting as casually as they could on the way up.

Y/n perked up when she heard the front door unlock. Literally hanging there for an hour was boring, especially since her boyfriend made it impossible for her to even try and get off.

She looked over as Seungmin flicked their lights back on. The boys dropped their bags before circling the living room.

“How much weight can that hook hold?” Changbins asked

“Forget. Tied her up there and left her hanging for a while. So a good amount,” Seungmin shrugged

“You leave her tied up?” Felix asked

“She forgets her training sometimes,” Seungmin smiled as he took off the droll-covered gag, putting the accessory away. “Color puppy.”

“Green. Green, sir. Wanna help you guys cum,” Y/n begged. Opening her mouth when she was done talking and lolling her tongue out to them

“Fuck,” Jisung groaned. First to break as he stepped forward. Pulling his aching cock out of his sweat and shoving himself into her mouth.

Y/n moaned around him. Something about having another man’s dick in her throat while her boyfriend watched turned her on more. Clenching around the dildo and plug.

One thing she missed was the others looking in the toy basket as Jisung held her bound wrists as leverage to fuck her face. Y/n looked up at him as his tip hit the back of her throat, gagging around his cock. Jisung whined above her before picking up his pace more.

Seungmin came behind her and undid the rope on the spreader bar as Jisung came down her throat. Y/n moaned around him before he pulled out, stripping himself of his clothes. Y/n realized the other already had while Jisung was fucking her face.

Her boyfriend untied her wrist and put the leather cuffs back on, letting her lay her hands on the ground for now as Hyunjin took Jisung’s position and thrusted his dick in and out of her mouth. Holding the back of her head still as he fucked her face. The pattern repeated— Felix going after him, then Jeongin, then Chan, Changbin, Minho, and finally her boyfriend— all the guys using her throat to get off first. She knew she would be tasting their cum for a while after this. Drool ran down her jaw and neck while some dropped down to the towels beneath them. Some of them rougher than others to the point her mascara was running from under her eyes to her jawline. Her eyes glossed over as her brain got foggy.

Seungmin helped her stand up on her feet as Felix handed him the rope again. He tied her wrist with the rope again, discarding the leather cuffs finally. Jeongin noticed the dildo in her pussy and smiled as he came behind her and grabbed the base and slowly started thrusting it up into her.

Y/n moaned and clenched around the toy her boyfriend's best friend was fucking her with. Seungmin smiled at her as he put the rope on the hook again, pulling her arms up over her head again.

“Let me see that dildo, In,” Seungmin said

The youngest boy took the juice-coated toy out of her and handed it to her boyfriend. Seungmin thanked him before pushing the toy into her mouth. Y/n moaned as Jeongin stepped back. Seungmin called Changbin over and Y/n felt herself being lifted. The two were folding her in half as Seungmin tied the rope around the bar again. She was hanging there fully exposed. Her holes were at the perfect height for their dicks to slip inside. The tail plug hanging straight down. The two stepped back to just make sure it would hold, and it did.

Seungmin gently pulled on the tail in her ass, making her whine before he slowly pulled it out. Her boyfriend discarded the tail in the toy basket with her gag before grabbing the dildo from her mouth and setting that down too. Two of Seungmins’ fingers spread her folds before he stood in front of her and slipped his cock into her. Y/n moaned before she felt another cock teasing her asshole before Changbin slipped into her.

Seungmin had stuffed her ass with dildos before while he fucked her but being filled and fucked by two of the real things was a whole new experience that had her spinning. Both taking turns sliding in and out of her. One would pull out, the other would push inside. Never leaving her unfilled.

More focused on the dicks inside of her and barely paying attention to the other six stroking their cocks to her getting fucked by her boyfriend and one of his friends. Waiting for their turn.

Seungmin’s hands held onto her waist while Changbin groped her ass. Moans fell out of her throat with every harsh thrust they gave her. Whiney noises mixed with the occasional curse word. All her thoughts had already drifted from her brain. Anything that wasn’t about cum or a dick in her didn’t matter. So used to letting Seungmin use her as long as he needed before his games but now the others had joined, it was changing her brain chemistry a bit.

Their hips snapped into her, filling the living room with the noise of skin-hitting skin and squelching sounds coming from her wet pussy and lubed-up ass. Their grunts filled her ears.

“Wanna get filled up pup?” Seungmin asked

“Yes sir,” Y/n moaned at a particle thrust that had both of them in her at one rather than seesawing out of her like that had been

She tensed her thigh muscles, hoping to bring her legs closer even though they were locked in on the spreader bar just to relieve the tension building in her lower stomach. Seungmin seemed to notice as she clenched around him and Changbin. He had mentioned it in the locker room when he showed them the video camera that it was partially going to be a punishment for her and that she couldn’t cum tonight. Peaking their interest.

Changbin and Seungmin shared a look. Seungmin moved his hands up to grab her breasts, groping them as Changbin pulled one hand back and smacked her ass.

“Fuck,” Y/n moaned in a high-pitched voice as her head tilted forward. Changbin wrapped one of his arms around her neck, pulling her head back and making her gasp. A whole different feeling than Seungmin's hand wrapped around her. The fabric of her collar pushed against her neck and his arm.

She heard him grunt in her ear before Seungmin shoved himself in her and painted her walls with his cum. Changbin wasn’t far behind. His cum shot out into her ass just as her boyfriend pulled out, looking at his cum dripping out of her before moving to sit on their couch and come down from his high and let his friends fuck her.

Jisung eagerly took his place in her cunt, pushing his cum back into her. Y/n clenched around immediately from the sensitivity making the male in front of her let out a moan. Changbin pulled out of her for Jeongin to switch places with him. Jisung stayed still inside her— mainly so he didn’t cum sooner than he wanted to— as Jeongin pushed himself into her ass with Changbin’s cum.

“Anything goes, right Min?” Jeongin asked

“As long as you don’t leave bruises. Right pup?” Seungmin turned the question to her

“Yes sir,” Her words came out a bit broken

Jisung seemed eager to hear that answer. He leaned forward and wrapped his lips around one of her nipples as his other hand groped her free breasts. Y/n let out a small whine left her throat as Jeongin started thrusting into her from behind. Jisung stayed still inside her for a few moments before slowly pulling back and thrusting in slightly out of time with Jeongin. His pace was slower compared to the younger ones.

Jeongin had placed his hands on her shoulder, near the base of her neck. Leaning back just a bit as he moved at a quicker pace. Shoving Changbin’s cum deeper into her, some of it coating his dick. Jisung slowly picked up his pace as he moved between her nipples. Licking, sucking, and biting her nipples.

Gradually Jisung sped up his pace till he was matching Jeongin. Both having their dicks coated in the other cum. Frothing it inside her. Jisung pulled himself away from her breasts as he twitched inside her. Y/n clenched around them as the cold air from the apartment hit her nipples

“Shit,” Jisung whined before cumming inside her. Mixing with Seungmin’s cum. His dick slipped out as he kept thrusting through his high. He pushed onto her stomach as the rest of his cum spewed onto her stomach.

Jeongin took a little longer. The others watched the cum drip from her and gave her pussy a small break as Jeongin finished inside her. Mixing his cum with Changbins and not slipping out like Jisung had.

Y/n whined as his cock slipped out. Leaving her empty before Chan stepped in front of her and Minho groped her ass from behind. Both bring in a different energy

Minho squeezed her ass a good few times— now she understood what her boyfriend went through daily with Minho grabbing his ass. Chan rubbed the back of her thighs, comfortingly. He knew from just the look of the position her muscles would be hurting so he offered a bit of comfort before slipping into her. Minho pushed in once he finished playing with her ass cheeks.

Chan gave her a moment to take his cock as Minho started drilling up into her, his hand moving to hold her breasts. Chan times his thrusts just in time with Minhos. Both of them were as coordinated with their thrusts as Seungmin and Changbin were. If not more coordinated than them.

Her mind was lost with pleasure by now. Little whines came out when they started thrusted. As they got quicker and rougher, louder moans replaced them. Her head rolled forward and then back from the pleasure though her limbs felt like they were on fire. It didn't matter though, it just felt good.

Chan and Minho definitely had the best stamina. Not surprisingly, Y/n had heard whispers when she would walk down the halls with her boyfriend the week after a party and someone would gush about their hook-up with one of them.

If only the campus knew what happened when you got the two of them together on the same person. Though they would never know what was happening behind the current apartment door.

Y/n clenched involuntarily around them as both were panting. Y/n felt herself so close to coming but the two beat her to it. Minho sheathed himself inside her and filled her with a third load and Chan followed not far behind. She wasn't as close to where they could trigger her orgasm by dumping heavy loads in her and she whined at it.

Especially when they pulled away but she hadn't been left empty for long. Her head fell back just for Hyunjin to slide inside her abused cunt. She only realized it was him when her head snapped forward and she vaguely caught the body shape of the tall campus crush in front of her through her teary eyes. Then she felt Felix filling her stretched ass up.

Both of them gave her a few moments before starting to take turns thrusting inside her. Taking it slow compared to the others. Both held onto her waist as they started slower. Gradually picking up their pace to meet the others. Pushing all the cum deeper into her. Some dripped out from the movement.

Her holes pulsated around the two the whole time inside her. Sensitive to everything at this point.

“Wanna cum pup?” Seungmin’s voice came from behind the moans of the two fucking her

“‘Es Sir. Wan cum,” words so broken from pleasure

“Go ahead pup. Been good to us,” Y/n could hear the smirk in her boyfriend's voice. But that little bit of permission was all she needed. Coming hard on Hyunjins cock which seemed to trigger theirs from how hard she was clamping down on them.

Both boys filled her up one last time before pulling out. Cum dripping from both her holes as the guys took in her appearance. Sweaty and thoroughly used. Puppy ears barely hanging on to her head.

Seungmin and Changbin, with the help of Chan, got her down from her confines as Seungmin wrapped his arms around her spent body. He took her away to get her cleaned up while the guys offered to clean up the living room.

Seungmin got her into a warm bath and gently cleaned her up. Being careful around her sensitive parts. Making sure to tell her how good she did.

“Tired,” Y/n whined as he brought her into the bedroom

“I know bubs. Gotta get you dressed though. You want your favorite PJs?” Seungmin carefully set her towel-covered body on the bed.

“Yeah,” she said meekly

Seungmin got her fuzzy pajama pants and one of his shirts for her to wear before he got himself dressed and took her into the living room so they could hang out with their friends. Chan and Changbin went out to get dinner for the group while the others were scattered around.

Seungmin sat down with his girlfriend cuddled on his lap. “Here,” Minho said handing him two bottles of water

“Thanks,” Seungmin said

He set one down and opened the other, helping his girlfriend drink. Y/n took a drink of the water before Seungmin pulled it away and closed it up.

“Chan and Changbin went to grab some pizza. Should be back soon,” Felix said

Y/n focused on their voices as they chatted, Seungmin rubbing her arms. The guys made sure to include her and she answered as best she could with a fuzzy brain but she welcomed it. It wasn’t long till the two came back with a few boxes of pizza and set up on the dining table. Felix went and grabbed some plates for them and everyone dug in. A little talk about tomorrow's game before it was decided to put on a movie in which Y/n fell asleep cuddled up on her boyfriend’s lap.

She woke up the next morning. Thankful for the weekend. Seungmin, being the morning person he was, was already awake, but sat up in their bed. Just scrolling on his phone, hand gently rubbing her head, giving her little head scratches.

“Min,” Y/n mumbled.

Seungmin turned his head to her and shut off his phone, “Morning bubs.”

Seungmin set his phone on his bedside table and laid down next to her, pulling her into him. “Feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Probably going to take a nap before we head out.” Y/n told him

“Just woke up and you’re already thinking about a nap,” Seungmin chuckled and kissed her nose.

“You take eight dicks and tell me how you feel after,” Y/n told him

“You feel okay enough to go again later?” His hand rubbed her side over their bed covers.

“Yeah. I can handle a round two,” Y/n confirmed

“Alright, you know you can stop it at any time,” Seungmin told her.

“I know pup. I will if it gets to be too much,” Y/n pressed a kiss to his lips. A quick kiss only for him to pull her back in.

“Min,” Y/n giggled as his kiss turned into frequent pecks all over her face

“Making up for last night,” He said between kisses.

Y/n smiled as his lips landed on hers, wrapping his arms around her. Getting the morning with him was always Y/n’s favorite thing before his games.

Eventually, the two got up and started getting ready after Seungmin made her breakfast. Hoping in the shower together— a heavy make-out session in the middle turning into a little oral for good luck— and got dressed. Seungmin slipped one of their anal plugs into her again before she pulled her pants on.

Y/n helped pack his sports bag while Seungmin made sure he had the things— mainly the bondage rope— for their personal after-party. Y/n packed him one of the larger waters for the game and slipped on his other jersey before they headed onto campus for the game. After a quick drive, Y/n went into the stadium after kissing him and he went into the locker room with the rest of the team.

Everyone was ready for the game and was just waiting for their call to the field. Once it was time, they were set on winning the game. Chan made sure everyone knew the plays and checked in when he thought adjustments were needed. All of it to ensure their win.

Y/n watched her boyfriend on third base. It was their last inning and they were so close to taking the win. Lucky enough they had Chan up to bat. Seungmin got ready to run home as Y/n sat at the edge of her seat. The opposing team's pitcher threw the ball and Chan hit the ball, hard.

The opposing team chased it as Chan booked it first and her boyfriend ran home. The catcher waiting at home plate for the ball that had no chance of getting to him as Seungmin touched home and won the game for their school.

Their college cheered at their big win for the season. The boys ran on the field and clung onto Seungmin. Everyone cheered for the win. Chan broke away to thank the other team's captain for a good game. Slowly the crowd disappeared and the players all went to the locker rooms to shower and clean up. Y/n waited outside for her boyfriend and his time like usual, just scrolling on her phone.

She saw the other team leave and go back to their campus and the night janitor. He seemed in a rush and left her the locker room key to give to Chan. Trusting him to lock it up for him.

“Babe,” Seungmin said from the door

“Yeah,” Y/n asked as she turned to him

“Come here.”

“Did you shower yet?” Y/n asked as she walked over to the door. “Also, the janitor wanted me to give this to Chan.”

Y/n handed him the key before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into the entryway.

“Did shower, gimme my victory kisses,” Seungmin said, grabbing the key from her and wrapping his arms around her, pressing his lips onto hers.

Y/n gave in to him and wrapped her arms around him.

“Why are you guys making out in the entryway?” Chan asked

“Because I'm technically not allowed in here,” Y/n said, pulling her lips from her boyfriend.

Seungmin unwrapped himself from his girlfriend and tossed the key she gave him to Chan “From the janitor.”

“Why?” Chan asked catching it

“Seemed in a rush. Asked me to give it to you to lock up the room when you guys were done.

The two players looked at each other before Seungmin pulled his girlfriend inside further and closed the door.

“Min!” Y/n squealed

“Trust us,” he smiled, kissing her neck

“I do,” Y/n smiled as he pushed her further into the locker room. Chan made sure the door was locked. Seungmin led her to where the others were gathered around. Some were sitting on the bench, all about half-dressed. Looking in their direction and Chan joining them.

“Part two pup?” Seungmin said as he led her over to the bench

“Of course,” Y/n said.

Her boyfriend took the liberty of stripping her while the guys watched in anticipation. Seungmin smacked her ass after getting her fully stripped for them

“Only got her ass prepped before the game. Someone gotta prep her pussy,” Seungmin offered

Jeongin laid back on the bench, “Sit her on my face.”

Seungmin sat his girlfriend on his friend's face. Jeongin pulled her down fully on him as his tongue got to work, licking between her folds before slipping the muscle inside of her. Hands holding her thighs down, preventing her from moving up off him, and nose pressed to her clit. Y/n instinctively went to grab his hair, only for Jisung to grab hold of her wrists. Pinning them behind her back.

“There’s some rope in my bag,” Seungmin smiled as he stood in front of his girlfriend, having undressed himself like the others had done. Discarding any clothing they had put on and jerked their cock to her.

Felix grabbed said rope from his friend's bag. Jisung kept a hold on her arms as Felix bound her wrists together so she couldn’t use her hands. The two behind her stood back and joined the jerk-off circle. Seungmin pushed her head down and Y/n hoped her mouth for her boyfriend's dick. Easily slid down her throat, keeping her head in place, and used her throat.

Half of them took their turns again using her throat as Jeongin continued his tongue work. Just until she was whining and clenching down on his tongue. He pushed her up off of him and got out from under her. Felix took the chance to get under her and sit her on his cock. Y/n let out a small moan just for Chan to bend her over a bit to gain access to her ass. His legs were on either side of the small bench, slowly pulling the plug out of her and handing it over to Seungmin, who kept it in his hand. He already had an idea for later.

Chan spread her ass and slipped inside her. The two Australians going at it on her. Moving in and out of her harshly. Chan holding her her bound wrist to keep her up and Felix groped her ass, keeping her open for his mate. Y/n hung her head low as they pounded into her.

The others realized how much everything was echoing in the locker room between their hips snapping into her and her moans. Minho took the opportunity to lift her head and push his cock into her open mouth. Now the only echo was from the sound of skin hitting skin. Y/n moaned around Minho’s cock as he thrusted into her mouth in time with Chan.

“She always moan like a whore?” Minho asked

“Yeah. She liked being treated like one,” Seungmin chuckled.

“Can tell. Clenched around us when Minho said it,” Felix groaned

The two below picked up their pace. Felix got a bit more sloppy with his thrusts before she felt all three of them start to twitch inside her one by one. She figured the youngest would blow first and he did. Shoving his cock deep inside her as he filled her up. Deep voice hitting her ears and making her clench.

She triggered Chan’s orgasm then Minho’s. Chan shoved himself into her ass and dumped his load into her. Her moans from getting filled had made him spill into her mouth. The two Aussies pulled out before Minho. Minho and Felix moved out of the way as Changbin slid under her and sat her on his cock. More of a stretch than she had thought yesterday when he was in her ass.

Changbin held her hips as Chan switched places with Jisung. Jeongin pulled her forward and slid into her throat. The three threw moving slowly out the window. Setting their own quick paces and abusing her holes. Not much rhythm to it but they ultimately fell into one. Y/n clenched around the two underneath her from the stimulation between the four dicks she had taken in her holes and Jeongin eating her out. Maybe even the fact her boyfriend was watching her get used. Probably a mix of everything.

She felt Jisung leave forward and bring his hands to grope her boobs. She moaned around Jeongin’s cock as he pinched her nipples. Her walls got involuntarily tighter around the two before Jeongin added his cum to Minho’s inside her throat, letting her mouth milk him before pulling away and letting the two use her to their content. Skin slapping against skin harshly and bouncing off the bare walls of the locker room. Jisung coated her walls with his cum not soon after as she came on Changbin’s dick. Changbin joined them as Jisung’s cock spurted the last bit of his cum into her ass.

Jisung pulled out as Changbin filled her up more. Hyunjin came behind her and took Jisung’s spot. His cock pushing into her filled ass and some pushing out while his hands grabbed her boobs and pulled her against his chest as Changbin pulled out. Jeonging took his place and slid her onto his dick. How he got it up again so quickly, she had no clue. But she didn’t even know how much time had passed since he stepped back to Changbin came inside her and pulledout. Everything was starting to blur but it felt so good.

The two started their pounding pace as Hyunjin lowered her down to Felix’s awaiting cock. Y/n wrapped her lips around him as he held the back of her head and fucked her face like they all had done at least twice to her by now. Their breaths were heavy as they fucked her. She was whining around Felix's cock before his dick hit the back of her throat and made her gag. Tears running down her cheeks that she hadn’t even noticed welled up in her waterline. She was already clenching around the two and Jeongin’s sensitive cock twitched inside her while Hyunjin was still going strong. Fingers twisting and pulling her nipples as her muscles twitched.

Jeongin spilled not too long later inside of her and Felix followed close behind, his own cock still sensitive from when he fucked her. Hyunjin moved his hands to grab her shoulders as the two unloaded into her and picked up his pace. Pounding as hard as he could into her, leaning back a bit as his hips snapped against her ass. His dick twitched inside her spurring him on till he added his cum into the mix inside her.

Felix and Jeongin pulled out as Hyunjin finished inside her. Minho took the chance to sit her on him and just let her sit as Hyunjin pulled out. Minho gripped her ass and spread her cheeks apart as her boyfriend got behind her. Jisung, eager as ever, pulled her mouth onto his cock. Her fucked ass was on display for her boyfriend, dripping with other men's cum.

Seungmin smiled as the other two started fucking her. He watched the cum mixture drip out of her before rubbing his top around her ass. Minho stopped to let him slide inside her before they started fucking her again. Y/n moaned around Jisungs dick. None of them were unaware of the cum and drool mix running down her chin and meeting with her tears. Mascara all smudged again.

The three pounded into all her holes as hard as they could with her clenching around two out of three of them. On the verge of another orgasm from the stimulation. Her clit only having been touched once before that high disappeared. But she was fucked out of her mind anyways.

The knot inside her snapped as quickly as it appeared. Her whole body was shaking as it hit her. Jisung cumming in her mouth as Seungmin grabbed her bound wrists with his free hand as he and Minho kept drilling into her.

Minho’s hands moved from her ass to hold her hips instead as he got closer to his high. Dick twitching inside her tight walls. Both picked up their speed inside her till cum filled both her overstimulated holes one more time. Both thrusting in a couple more times before stilling inside her.

Slowly Minho pulled her up off him at the same time Seungmin pulled out slowly. Replacing his cock with the plug and keeping the cum inside her ass till they got home.

Chan came back with some rags for everyone to clean up. Thanking their captain, they cleaned up the cum from themselves and Seungmin cleaned up his girlfriend before they all got dressed and left the locker room. Seungmin carried his girlfriend on his back as they made it to their cars. The guys decided to do another night of food and movies at Seungmin and Y/n’s.

Everyone went home to shower again and change before going to the apartment. Seungmin cleaned up his girlfriend and got her dressed in comfy pajamas again and planted himself on the couch with her. Curled up in a fluffy blanket. Only getting up to answer the door for his friends. All nine gathered around the living room again with takeout.

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

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ao3cassandraic · 28 days ago

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Why LeeBeeBee?

In All Systems Red, we first encounter the main villain indirectly, at the end of the first chapter. Putting quote and discussion after a cut for book spoilers.

Then I found something weird. There was an “abort” order in the HubSystem command feed, the one that controlled, or currently believed it controlled, my governor module. It had to be a glitch. It didn’t matter, because when MedSystem has priority —

And then Murderbot suddenly shuts down, as though for repairs.

How the hell does anyone pull this off in a TV show?!

How do you introduce HubSystem and MedSystem and how they work together? How do you clue in viewers to its importance really really fast? How do you show its orders to Murderbot? How do you explain why/how Murderbot isn't following those orders? How do you make viewers understand how serious this is when even Gurathin (were he to investigate, and if he does, how do you avoid him discovering the governor module hack?) might not totally get it?

And does it even make sense to introduce GrayCris this early, when we barely know Murderbot or PresAux and we've barely assimilated the millipede attack?

Yeah. This structure, this specific cliffhanger, just wasn't gonna work. They had to do something different, and given that, they likely want to let GrayCris sit a bit because there are some starter villains to clear out before getting to GrayCris as the series-final boss.

More subtly and thematically, there's a question of humanity-calling-the-shots here. In ASR, PresAux doesn't even see a human associated with GrayCris until the final climactic negotiation with them -- until then it's all trails of destruction and SecUnits and note-passing through the feed. In a horror/suspense-aligned version of the show, that could be made to work, I guess -- but that's not the show they were writing. So they needed GrayCris to have a human face, not least to drive home that (in Murderbot's trenchant words) humans are greedy bastards.

It's quite possible to argue with exactly how they wrote LeeBeeBee the character. I would have been happier with like 90% less coercive sexuality, myself. But I can't argue with the need to delay GrayCris's intro, to give GrayCris a human face early-ish on, and to rework Murderbot/PresAux's initial encounter with GrayCris. Those were just necessary.

#mbtv #murderbot tv #murderbot spoilers #murderbot meta #leebeebee #graycris #evilsurvey

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eurothug4000 · 7 months ago

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INTERVIEW ON THE MAKING OF THE CANCELLED MMORPG NINELIVES

Ninelives is the most beautiful RPG that was never completed, but can still be experienced as it was left. As part of my video on the game (now up for early access on Nebula), I also interviewed Tota of SmokymonkeyS on its inspirations and development before its suspension in 2016.

What would you say are your main inspirations for the art style in Ninelives? E.g. other artists, film, games, literature, history etc.!

I was a huge fan of Adventure Gamebook when I was a kid. Well, maybe you don't know what that is. Please read the wiki if you need: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gamebook. I was reading (playing) translated oversea gamebooks well, and love the inner artwork especially what draw by monochrome. I had never seen pictures like that before, and had a strong impact on me. So, I wanted to make a gamebook by my self. When I started making my own gamebooks, I learned a lot about how games are made. That's because a gamebook is a medium in which the player can see all the source code. At first I started making gamebooks because I was attracted by the artwork, but my interest eventually shifted to making the game itself.

Related to the above, do you take a lot of inspiration from real world cultures and places? Are there any that you particularly gravitate towards?

I like the mixed culture, like Chinoiserie in France at the 17 century. Plus, since I'm Japanese and this country has always been greatly influenced by China. So I'm not limited to any one of these cultures, but trying to create as I am influenced by all of them. Sometimes people say that what I create looks Japanese, Chinese, or Asian, which is neither correct nor incorrect. I try not to be only of a certain culture when I create. That's because I want to create an imaginary world that is somewhat like reality, but slightly different.

Why did you want to make Ninelives?

Ninelives was the first game I ever thought of making, I think when I was about 17.

Do you think Ninelives being in an unfinished state provides a different atmosphere when playing the game and exploring the world?

I don't particularly think so. The atmosphere of the game is still complete. I wanted the game to be a relaxed, free-roamed adventure for players.

I wasn't certain during my research, so I wanted to confirm if Tomomi Sakuba was involved in Ninelives in any way?

Yeah, Sakuba was involved in Ninelives lots of ways. As you said, he did some of the texture pictures for flowers, plants and tree leaves. He also drawn the world map and area maps of the game like below: http://www.smokymonkeys.com/kyrill/index.asp?direct=138 He actually walked around the world by himself to make this. He was one of the most earliest game tester of the game. Oh, and I have to tell you this. He's a voice actor of male Nightbreed and Elf! In addition, his wife did some of creature voices. Her voice is also used on Triglav too!

What are your own personal thoughts on Ninelives? Is there anything you would drastically change looking back on it? Or any big changes you would want to make if you were to continue development at any point?

Ninelives was too much for me in many ways. It was a world I had been thinking about since I was young, but there were too many things to actually create to handle, and in that sense it's exactly the dream a child thinks about. We are a team of two in SmokymonkeyS, but one of us is in charge of programming and system engineering, and the game itself was created completely by myself. I had to create all the pictures, models, terrain, music, and story by myself. Now if I'm going to make something, I don't make it on such a large scale anymore.

Apart from the Switch release for Garage and occasional updates on Triglav that you mentioned before, is there anything that SmokymonkeyS are working on for the future?

Not yet so far.

I noticed your banner on the official website (http://www.smokymonkeys.com/kyrill/index.asp) has a character on a train platform, I wondered if that might be a future game?

Once it was. It was a previous project of Triglav for mobile. But it was going to be on a larger scale again, so we decided to port Triglav before that. There are no plans to make that game now. But I may make another game with that worldview and atmosphere. For example, as a mobile game.

A big thank you to Tota for taking the time to answer my questions! You can find SmokymonkeyS and their games here:

#mmorpg #game design #game interview #ninelives #triglav #garage bad dream adventure

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aamputation · 5 months ago

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SVSSS AU ... Benevolent System 0.1

related to -> [THIS] Shen Yuan art and -> [THIS] bit

“Dumbf*ck author, dumbf*ck novel!” Shen Yuan spits; a final curse as his vision goes black.

Shen Yuan, our veteran web novel enthusiast, is an interesting one. He’s the third son, and second youngest of his ultra-wealthy parents’ four kids. Some would take a glance at him and immediately peg him as a fuerdai, but Shen Yuan is more than that. Albeit fairly unhealthy his whole life—we won’t bore you, dear reader, with the details of his illnesses—he still managed to graduate from Tsinghua University with a degree in Chinese language studies and a minor in modern literature, work as a freelance editor, and somehow become a published novelist. Mind, Shen Yuan doesn’t think much of his published works, the reason for that being that one of his first clients was so testy over his editors’ notes on the draft that he’d cursed Shen Yuan and left the final remark: “Well if it’s so easy to write a book, why don’t you do it?!” Shen Yuan had taken that personally, and so like the millennial he was, Shen Yuan replied “Bet,” and did it—the resulting product becoming award winning, much to his disgruntlement; he has book deals now, goddamnit.

(Unbeknownst to Shen Yuan, his work is considered high brow. People dissect his work in literature classes alongside other classics, like Xu Yun or even Haruki Murakami. People think he’s reclusive and brooding, like J.D. Salinger or Thomas Pynchon—he’s not, he’s just an antisocial hermit who drowns himself in his editing work and trashy web novels to de-stress—and his published works are deep, reflecting on the human condition. Of course, this is an accident. Shen Yuan genuinely does not realize it is actually considered tragic, or even when his books are super homoerotic. Shen Yuan is lauded by the literary community as a modern genius, but the man himself just likes to ignore his own work approximately ninety percent of the time.)

Shen Yuan, published author, was an upstanding millennial—having properly purchased the Zhongdian’s VIP currency to read the novel’s official version—who found himself forcing his way to the end of this gargantuan novel, only to be met with utter disappointment. This novel was so stallion, so money-grubbing, and so overly padded that it left him feeling speechless with rage. How could he not curse Proud Immortal Demon Way, by Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky—just looking at that euphemistic handle smacked you in the face with the dirty-feeling. Grade-school-level writing with land mines everywhere, breaking also suspension of disbelief and Shen Yuan couldn't bear to call that incoherent, massive world the author had built a xianxia setting. What kind of xianxia setting had people using horses and carriages all day? What kind of xianxia setting had people who after achieving inedia still needed to eat and sleep? What kind of cultivation world had an author who occasionally mixed up even the Stages of Foundation Establishment and Nascent Soul!? When faced with the protagonist, every single character completely lost their IQ points, especially Shen Qingqiu! That idiot among idiots, scum amongst scum! His only purpose was to dig his own grave and he hadn't even managed to finish before he was killed by the protagonist instead!!

So why, despite all this rage and frustration, had Shen Yuan started this web novel—even going so far as to read it to the very end?

Don't misunderstand, Shen Yuan didn't enjoy degrading himself. The reason he had persisted was also what had caused him the most frustration. Despite his many grievances, this novel actually had an incredible amount of foreshadowing, plot lines everywhere, mystery after mystery, layer upon layer of red herrings, incredible monsters—all of which intrigued and enticed. Yet at the end, not a single one of the many plot hook opportunities paid off! It was enough to make him want to spit blood!

Why were priceless herbs, spirit elixirs, and Peerless Beauties everywhere like they didn't cost a cent!? Why were the villains speeches and poses as they dug their graves and got offed all exactly the same!? The dozens of maidens, barely glimpsed, all of whom agreed to enter the Harem: what happened to them!? All right, skipping that last one for the moment… Who, exactly, had been the culprit behind the scores of atrocities? What was the purpose of the unending list of characters so hyped up for being awesome and without equal? Why did none of them make an appearance!? Even at the very end, Airplane-bro, Great Master: Can we have a discussion!? Fill! In! Plot! Holes! Okay!?

Shen Yuan feels like he could come back to life with the power of sheer rage fueling him.

In the endless darkness, a mechanical voice sounds out by his ear.

《 {ACTIVATION CODE} ["Dumbfuck author, Dumbfuck novel"] Automatically triggered. 》

The tone reminded him of Google translate. Who is this? Shen Yuan thinks to himself, looking around. He realizes he’s standing—or, hovering?—in a virtual space, one so dark that he couldn't see his hand before him.

The voice came from all directions.

《 Welcome to THE SYSTEM. This System operates in line with the design concept: [“YOU CAN, YOU UP. NO CAN, NO BB.”] 》

《 We hope to provide you with the best possible experience. It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and in accordance with your wish, transform a stupid work into a magnificent high quality first-rate classic. We hope you enjoy. 》

“Whoa, wait! Hold on for a second, System!” Shen Yuan screams, as a crushing sensation crashes over him like a tidal wave. “Fuck!”

《 {ERROR.500} Troubleshooting… 》

“What the fuck does that mean?!” Shen Yuan cries. He can’t see himself, but god does he hurt! What the hell is happening!?

《 … 》

《 {ERROR.500} Unexpected Condition encountered. 》

《 {ERROR.8024} [Host: SHEN YUAN] unable to be placed into [Scum Villian: SHEN QINGQIU] Troubleshooting… 》

《 {ERROR.403} PATHWAY FORBIDDEN [SVSSS1.EXE] Terminating…》

“Somebody, HELP!” Shen Yuan sobs, his body alight with pain as though he’s being torn apart at an atomic level.

《 {ERROR.400} BAD REQUEST. Troubleshooting… 》

Another Google Translate voice pipes up, although this one feels warmer somehow.

《 Greetings, [SVSSS1.EXE]!! This System is here to assist. 》

《 [BS01.EXE] this System is unable to connect [Host] to [assigned role], [Host.script] must be terminated. 》

《 Do not be hasty, [SVSSS1.EXE]! Detail the pathways [SVSSS1.EXE] has taken in attempt to resolve the {ERROR}. 》

Shen Yuan ignores the two voices conversing about him like he’s not even there, catching breath he probably doesn’t need since he can’t even tell if he has an actual body or not… it feels like he does but he can’t see anything…

“Hey! Excuse me, Systems? Yeah, hey, I’m still here! Don’t I get a say in this as the Host or whatever?”

《 Answering [Host] … 》

《 This System [BS01.EXE] apologizes for the delay in service. Does [Host] have a ticket to submit to this System? 》

“Uh, yeah, although it’s more of a complaint than a ticket or whatever,” he growls, “but yeah, uh, it’s gonna be a hard no from me if you’re planning on dumping me into the scum villain!”

《 [Host]’s soul is most compatible with the role [Scum Villain: SHEN QINGQIU]. Coding in a new body is not within this System’s programming. 》

《 … 》

The second, softer System remains quiet as that Google Translate voice rings in Shen Yuan’s ears, somehow managing to sound haughty. It pisses him off further.

“If I’m being forcibly put into this trash fire novel’s setting, I refuse to take a preassigned role! Absolutely not! If you can’t make me a body, then I guess I’ll just die.”

《 [Host] should not think in this manner! 》

The second System says, its apparent concern somehow discernible in its robotic voice.

《 [SVSSS1.EXE] is simply attempting to fulfill its programmed purpose. This System [BS01.EXE] apologizes to [Host] for the miscommunication. 》

“Yeah, so if SVS-whatever-the-fuck can’t make me a body, what about you? Can you?”

《 … 》

《 Answering [Host] … 》

《 This System is equipped to handle any and all logistical errors within the {System.Network}. [BS01.EXE] is capable of coding in a role for [Host: SHEN YUAN] 》

《 Is System [BS01.EXE] planning to hijack this System’s chosen [Host]? 》

《 This System would never! [SVSSS01.EXE] is still primary System to [Host]! 》

Shen Yuan swears that the first, bitchy System makes an honest-to-god scoffing noise.

《 [BS01.EXE] can have this System’s [Host], it seems to be ungrateful and uncooperative. {DMA.[SVSSS01.EXE]}{FTP.[BS01.EXE]} 》

《 «𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…» 》

《 ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 0% 》

《 █▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 10% 》

《 ███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 32% 》

《 █████▒▒▒▒▒ 50% 》

《 ███████▒▒▒ 86% 》

《 ██████████ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! 》

《 «Transferring …» 》

《 {FINALIZING}[BS01.EXE]DMA.DAT} 》

《 Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things should be said three times! [BS01.EXE] is now Primary System to [Host: SHEN YUAN]! 》

《 … 》

The original System scoffs, the Google Translate voice somehow capturing the disdain.

《 Goodbye, [BS01.EXE], and goodbye ungrateful [Host]. 》

“...”

《 … 》

“Is it gone?”

《 This System no longer senses the presence of [SVSSS01.EXE]. 》

“Good fucking riddance!”

> [2nd]

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hello-gloomy · 2 months ago

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Petrified Circus

Chapter One

Flyers For You To See

Stanley Snyder x Fem!Reader

Summary: "Are you bored in the stone world? Missing television? Not being able to find entertainment? Well, look no further! The traveling Freak show is now in your area. Eager and willing to entertain, perform, and share excitement with you."

Warnings: Minor violence, Lots of dialog, no reader yet only small tidbits. Suspense.

"If you only look for the worst in people, you'll miss out on all the good that can be there."

"But if all I look for is good, then I'll miss the evil looking me in the face."

Evil looked him in his face, and it made him disappear because of it; you wouldn't let that happen to you.

****

"Are you bored in the stone world? Missing television? Not being able to find entertainment? Well, look no further! The traveling Freak show is now in your area. Eager and willing to entertain, perform, and share excitement with you."

Senkuu blinked owlishly at the radio equipment, listening to the announcer talk and convey his ad for whatever contraption of a circus he was talking about. He was more interested in the fact that another group of humans had a working radio system and that this is what they were deciding to do with it; 'Gen would enjoy this,' he thought to himself as the ad provider finished up telling the coordinates of where the circus would be performing when they would be arriving and all the things they were going to host to all those that wanted to come. The transmission came to an end,

"Well?" Xeno asked, and Sai turned to look at him while Xeno switched off the frequency. Senkuu sighed and rubbed his neck without thought; while he would love to check it out personally, he still had a few diplomatic problems. Xeno had to deal with building the rest of the developing American colony, and Sai was Sai. A knock at the communications room door broke up the group's silent contemplation.

"Come in." Stanley poked his head in and made his way towards Xeno; he sat on the arm of his chair and joined the conversation. Senkuu decided on their problem the second the knight sat down; he looked at Xeno. Xeno glanced up at their new solution.

"Care for a new assignment, Stan?" Stanley lit his smoke and raised an eyebrow at the doctor. Sai grabbed one of the many maps the young Chelsea had put aside for them in the area they resided in and set it down on a table as the other men gathered around while he set it up. Senkuu grabbed some colored pins and highlighted the coordinates from the broadcast they heard.

"Some self-proclaimed Freak show is traveling in our local area a few days from now. Based on how the broadcaster spoke, we know they have a working radio system and moved around quite a bit before coming here." Stanley looked at the area the young scientist highlighted and searched for the fastest and most efficient route as the boy talked.

"Why not go yourself?" He looked up as he asked.

"I have other problems to deal with. Thank you; you're on an extended leave, so you have plenty of time for a side quest." Stanley gives a dead stare as Senkuu dishes out his usual sarcasm.

"Gen is expected to return by the time the circus arrives, so you should bring him along," Xeno interjects while writing a list of things down for the trip.

"While we prepare the necessary tools for this, you can pick out the rest of the members of your group." Xeno starts moving around the room, grabbing items along the way; Sai hops up and begins to help,

"Make sure it's a small group; you don't need to scare them off," Senkuu says as he takes his mentor's previous seat. Stanley takes a drag from his smoke as he thinks of the group he'll have to prepare in the short days he has; he lets out a sigh and gets up.

"I know how to do my job, kid." Said 'child,' rolls his ruby eyes at the remark on his age. He hopes this isn't the start of something horrible. Stanley exits the room with the doctor and the prodigy, leaving Senkuu alone in his thoughts; he wonders what Gen would think of all of this.

****

You hid the platinum device in a safe place from the acting showman until you found your cousin; you could hear the ruckus from outside your caravan cart; you knew something was off about him when he initially joined, but had you known that he had such a temper over something that shouldn't be important to someone of his original position you would have fought to convince your cousin that something was wrong. You have many regrets about what you should have done, but all you can do is act to protect what's left of him. You look to your vanity and see your reflection; you seem tired. How many days had he been gone now? You were starting to lose count. Breathing deeply, you fix your costume and readjust your makeup to hide any suspicions of yourself until you can devise a proper action plan. You put your hat and coat on with a flourish and open the door to face the music. You won't lose this battle. You can't.

*****

"Didn't think I'd find you in such a noisy place." Ukyo looked away from the target and smiled at Stanley.

"It's not too crowded today." Ukyo guided his fellow sharpshooter to a more private spot to continue their conversation. The shooting range in town has become popular with some of the early revivers and some of the original Stone World occupants. Stanley pulls a crate from a spot in the storage room and sits as Ukyo fixes the arrows he has for his bow.

"What do the doctors have in store for us this time?" Stanley can't help but grin at the archer's quick uptake; he's glad he picked him for this group. Stanley gives him the rundown of what happened yesterday and the basics of what they will do until they have more information. Ukyo nods along and stops what he is engaged with to give Stanley his proper answer.

"Who else is coming with?"

"Gen and I were thinking about taking Kohaku with us. She seemed pretty bored." Ukyo let out a small chuckle at his jest to the girl.

"I better go pack a few bags, then. We might be there for a few days as we figure things out." Stanley gave him an understanding nod and got up. He gave Ukyo a pat on the back and then took his leave to find the last member of his group. Stanley walked along the town's paved roads, wondering if Stanley could see the bright-eyed girl. He was about to head back to the central lab to ask either Senkuu or Chrome about her whereabouts till he felt a swish of air above him. He looked up to one of the buildings and saw her moving among the roofs effortlessly as she pleased; she smiled brightly as she entertained herself. Stanley decided to let him have a bit more fun and followed along with her till she came to a lower height; she looked down at him from where she was and gave him a wave. She dropped in front of him and let out a breath of air when she landed; he tilted his head in a direction opposite to them, signaling for her to follow. She tilted her head in curiosity before shrugging and following along. They walked silently, listening to other pedestrians pass by them in conversation; they arrived at a restaurant, and Stanley opened the door for her, allowing her to walk in first.

"I'm putting together a small group to investigate a traveling circus that broadcasted over the radios that they were in the area and invited anyone to come and see them," Stanley explained to her as they looked over the lunch menus in unison. Kohaku nodded and placed her order before she answered him.

"How big is the group?"

"You, Me, Gen, and Ukyo." She hummed as she told him about the others. The waitress who collected their menus returned with large plates of food for them. Kohaku looked like a wolf starving as she ate her meal, and Stanley shook his head in silent amusement at her healthy appetite. They ate quietly for a short while before Kohaku asked him another question.

"How many days till we leave out."

"About two and a half now; they gave a specific time of when they would arrive at the location they had set and what time the showings would begin." They finished their meals, and Stanley covered the costs; as they were moving toward the exit, they noticed a commotion outside, with multiple groups of people stopping in the middle of the street they were on. They hurriedly finished their business inside and rushed out. When outside, they were met with multiple flyers flying and falling along the street; mass discussion broke out among those outside. Stanley picked up one of the many fallen flyers and read what was on it.

"Prepare to be amazed! Traveling Freak Show comes closer to you! Wonder Awaits." Stanley felt some adrenaline start to run through him. This was getting more serious as the countdown to the show got closer.

"Stanley! Look!" Kohaku grasped his attention as she shouted and pointed to two cloaked figures on roofs opposite each other, gathering other citizens' attention. The odd figures, hearing Kohaku's shout, started to dash along them, running opposite to the blondes in the street. Stanley pocketed the flyer for later and engaged in the chase they had started, Running along the crowded streets, shoving others out of their way. One of the cloaked figures dropped between the buildings, and Kohaku broke off from Stanley to pursue them; following the echoing footsteps, they stopped at a dead end, the figure still not facing her.

"Hah! Nowhere to run now." She spites them with triumph as she draws her sword from her back. Finally, her prey turns and faces her, giving her a slight surprise when she sees their face; it is a carnival mask, one of a jester, but instead of eyes, there are black voids of nothing looking at her. It made her heart throb a bit at how unnerving it looked. She goes to take a defensive stance, but her attacker beats her to it, rushing her head-on, making quick swipes at her before backing off and throwing something out, causing a cloud of smoke to surround them. Kohaku coughs as she tries to locate them but instead feels a harsh hit to the back of her skull, promptly knocking her out cold. When she comes to, she finds she still in the same alleyway but sitting up against a wall; she jerks to action, grabbing her weapon again and whipping her head around, only to find Stanley standing near her, not looking the slightest bit happy.

"They both got away, " he informs her as he stomps out the cigarette. Stanley offers her a hand and hoists her to her feet. She gives him thanks as she sheathes her sword on her back.

"What happened to your guy?" She asks him. Stanley rubs his temple in slight aggravation at the question and pulls out his box of smokes.

"He put a civilian in danger to distract me."

"Mines had a smoke bomb." She scoffs while sharing what happened with hers. Stanley shakes his head as he exhales smoke; he looks around the rest of the alleyway they are in and does a double take when he notices something caught in a gap in the building wall. He motions to Kohaku and points out the object to her; he adeptly climbs the wall, grabbing it and bringing it over to him. When handed to him, he finds that it's a gold piece of fabric or maybe a ribbon as he turns it over, looking closely at it.

"Did you ever get a look at your attacker's face, Stanley?"

"No, but I'm guessing you did with yours," he asks, looking up at her, and she nods.

"They were wearing some kind of pied mask." She shares that she is trying to find the best way to describe it to him without knowing the word for the mask's design. Stanley pauses momentarily before pulling out the folded flyer from earlier and pointing to the masks on it.

"Like this?" She let out a gasp and nodded her head vigorously at the image of the mask on the paper.

"Although the one he was wearing had a neutral face."

"It's called a jester," Stanley informed her as he folded the paper back up and added the fabric they found. Stanley and Kohaku looked over the alleyway, hoping to see more clues. They found nothing and exited the tight space back to the major streets.

"Let's head to the lab and see if Senkuu and Xeno can make anything of this." They picked up their pace to return to the fortress before nightfall.

*****

"Well, it's definitely fabric."

"You don't say." Kohaku's hands were on her hips as she tried not to smack Senkuu into his microscope. He grinned at her before looking back at the fabric again.

"There are no fingerprints on it and no really different particles, which are different than what we have here. So I can't tell you much more than what it was composed of, and maybe what area of California it came from by the left of dirt on it, but that's it," Senkuu picked his ear, and Stanley sighed. He wished Xeno was here instead of the brat; not like he'd give a different answer than the one the boy had given.

"Anyway, we have the vehicle your group will be taking courtesy of Brody; check it out before you leave, and make sure to go over your checklists again. You only have a few days until you all leave." Senkuu pitched some more notes at them on what they should pack.

"Are you sure Gen's gonna make it back in time, genius?" Kohaku pestered lightly while squinting at the list in exasperation. The leek-haired boy shrugged and shooed them out. They closed behind them, and they moved to head to the vehicle shed to check out the car they were taking. When arriving, they meet with a proud Brody and a tired Kaseki, both giving a rundown on a pseudo-military jeep to Stanley and a wide car to Kohaku. The interior was pleasant, and the seats went down far enough for them to both stake out or sleep in comfortably. They gave their thanks to both of them men and went about their ways.

"I'm gonna drop off the other part of the checklist to Ukyo. You gonna be okay walking home by yourself?"

"I grew up in a literal forest." Kohaku deadpanned, slightly offended by his offer. He smiled at her bitterness and walked away in compliance with her claim. Watching the setting sun as he walks to the residential district, Stanley is reminded of the incident from earlier and wonders if Ukyo has caught wind of it yet. He shakes the thought from his mind when he reaches Ukyo's place and decides to deal with it once inside. He hears fast footsteps, and the door opens before he can even knock.

"Did you see the flyers?"

"I'm good, thanks." Ukyo laughs good-naturedly and apologizes while letting Stanley inside the building. Stanley takes a seat on his host's couch as he opens a window for Stan to smoke as he pleases. Ukyo momentarily walks to another room before returning with the flyer. Stanley takes the offered paper out of his hands; looking at it, he notices something different. He pulls out the crumpled flyer he had and sets it on the coffee table in front of them.

"There were different flyers handed out?" Ukyo offers while they look at both of them, one having twin masquerade masks while the other had a two-headed lion jumping through a flaming hoop in the other. Stanley sighs and leans back on the couch.

"Tea?" Ukyo offers, standing back up. Stanley nods, and the latter walks to the kitchen. Stanley sits back and looks over the flyer; he analyzes them for moments, spacing out as he does so, only snapping out when Ukyou comes back with two mugs. Stanley thanks him, picking up the steaming mug in one hand and the paper in the other; he flips it over and notices some barely noticeable symbol on the back of the one he had. When looking closer at it, he felt a chill run through his blood; Ukyo looked over his shoulder to see what he was looking at, and his eyes widened at the sight of the drawing on the paper.

"Is that the Medusa?" Ukyo took the paper out of Stanley's hands and lifted it to the light in the living room. When held close to the light, the image disappeared as quickly as they had seen it. Ukyo furrows his brow in confusion and sets down the paper. He grabs the one he found and flips it over to see the slightly visible shape on his paper two. He traces it lightly before he perks up with an idea.

"Do you have your light or matches on you?" Stanley looks at the archer oddly before handing him a silver lighter with an 'x' on the casing. Ukyo Takes the paper and fires up the lighter, gently holding it above the open flame of the side with the printing on it and the bare side upwards. As he slowly moves, the image becomes lighter.

"What does the medusa have to do with the circus." Ukyo tosses the paper down and hands Stan his light and then holds his hand to his face.

"We'll figure this out tomorrow; it's getting late." Stanley gets up, grabs the paper Ukyo used the lighter on, and takes it with him to show Xeno and Senkuu in the morning. He runs a hand through his hair and puts the mug in the kitchen as Ukyo follows.

"Senkuu updated our checklists, so rego over yours and pack accordingly. We might have to move up the traveling date to stake them out." After putting his shoes back on, he hands Ukyo the papers, waves goodbye, and closes the door behind him. Stanley lights another cigarette, looking at the starry sky in thought. The word floated around in his mind at the moment.

'Why?'

#dr stone x reader #dr stone #dr. stone #dr xeno #dr stone x you #dr. stone x reader #stanley snyder x reader #x reader

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matcha-binz · 11 months ago

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Muse. (teaser)

The newly arrived painting captures your attention as the archivist of the local museum. But, as you investigate further, you discover a secret that no one was supposed to know. Panicking, you run from the scene in a daze, trying to hide what you have witnessed. Before you could even realize, you were stopped from your trance by a suspicious individual. To your horror, it was none other than the secret himself. the muse of the oil painting stood right before you, looking into your eyes with a gaze too human.

Genre . Suspense, fantasy, romance, fluff

pairing . Prince!beomgyu x museum worker!reader

wc . N/A

note . Erm… oops. I’ve been gone for a while now… tehe. Anyways I’m back with this wip. Idk when it will be released, probably at the start of September, hopefully !

As your hands trace the intricate, gold framing of the painting, your eyes cant help but wander back to his deep, honey hued ones. This one is different.

The brush strokes that combine together to make his eyelids, the thin lashes that look as if they were painted each individually, and the deep, oak colored hair that rest around the golden crown adorning the head. And his lips, so carefully painted the exact shade of the pink carnations that he held. His attire is something a tad too simple for a prince to wear — a plain ruffled tunic, fading to a light beige — a popular clothing choice from this time, you observe.

It’s hard to imagine someone to be this beautiful. But at the same time, this oil painting seems to be waiting for the moment to just come to life. The furrowing of your brows do not go unnoticed by Taehyun, as he observes your reaction from the doorway.

“It took some time for it to arrive here-“ a graceful smile paints his face. “… I’m glad you like it” he chuckles, his laugh echoing off the dim lighted walls at your speechless form.

It takes a good second for you to snap out of your awe struck trance, stuttering a flustered respond for your coworker, who only smiles as you do so. “L-like it…? Taehyun, I’m like- “ you sigh. “I… I can’t believe this.. “

with an airy laugh — that was more of a half gasp — you turn over your shoulder to look into his eyes. “This can’t be… is this… the original copy?”

your eyes widen as he slowly nods his head. Your teeth nip on your lower lip as you struggle to keep in your excitement, the hand that rested on the gold frame of the painting jitters and twitch as you tuck it back in your cardigan pocket, and the smile that etched onto your face, you knew that it wasn’t coming off anytime soon.

“Well, I’ll trust this relic to you then” he states, shooting you a farewell smile and shutting the wooden door behind him. As he leaves you in the room, the sun has completely set behind the horizon and leaves darkness scattered in the sky. the clock strikes 8.

With one last glance at the painting, taking in all of its beauty, you take a step back, letting out a small yelp nearly tripping over a pile of old books that was probably left by taehyun as well. Lovely. A sigh leaves your lips as you crouch to take pick them up, blowing away the dust as you walk towards your desk that sits facing the wall.

“All right, then. Let’s get you in the system…” you idly mutter to yourself as you turn on the computer, the soft sound of the whirring fills the room, reminding you of just how old this computer is. As you quickly punch in the pin, you take note of saving up for a new desktop, this old one takes too long to load, to your dismay.

You right click onto the program to record the the addition to the museum gallery. Most of the gallery consists of old relics from important time periods to relics and art from before technology existed. You have always found these works to be exceptionally beautiful, the timelessness of these objects made by the talented artists are not to be forgotten by those who truly appreciate art.

Same goes for this painting, you think as you enter the description and the room it shall be placed in. But as the cursor hovers over the ‘name’ section, you hum as you try to rack your brain for the name of this piece.

“Hm… What was your name again..?” You say, to no one in particular as you glance back at the painting that stood still in the middle of the room, the dim lighting shining off the gold frame. Your brow raises as you tilt your head. Did you move it to the center before? The memory doesn’t appear immediately, but you deduce that you probably did.

And with a shrug, you turn back to the glowing screen, letting out a theatrical sigh.

”You may address me as prince Choi, ”

#txt x reader #txt imagines #yeonjun x reader #tomorrow x together #beomgyu #txt fanfic #txt fluff #beomgyu x reader #txt #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu fluff #fantasy #beomgyu fanfic #current wip #IVE BEEN OFF THIS APP FOR SO LONG LMFAO WHAT I MISS

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hayatheauthor · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! 😊 Do you have any advice on word-building? I can imagine multiple scenarios in my head, but I can't seem to put them into words. 🥹

First off hi sorry I took forever to write this blog! I hope it helps you get your ideas onto paper <3

Worldbuilding is the backbone of any compelling story, especially in genres like fantasy, science fiction, and historical fiction. Crafting a believable, immersive world can captivate your readers and provide a solid foundation for your narrative. In this guide, I’ll walk you through the essential steps to create a vivid and engaging world for your story.

Understanding Worldbuilding

Worldbuilding involves creating a complete, fictional universe that serves as the setting for your story. This process includes developing geography, cultures, history, politics, and even the rules of nature and magic (if applicable). The goal is to make your world feel as real and intricate as the characters who inhabit it.

Starting with the Basics

Define the Genre and Tone

Consider the genre of your story. A high-fantasy world will have different requirements than a dystopian future or a historical setting. The tone—whether it's dark and gritty or light and whimsical—will also influence your worldbuilding decisions.

Establish the Setting

Start with the physical world. Sketch out maps, outline the geography, and decide on key locations where your story will unfold. Think about the climate, natural resources, and the flora and fauna that inhabit this world.

Develop a History

Create a backstory for your world. Major events, wars, discoveries, and cultural shifts shape the present-day setting. A rich history can add depth and realism, influencing characters’ beliefs and motivations.

Building Cultures and Societies

Craft Unique Cultures

Think about the various cultures in your world. What are their customs, traditions, and social norms? How do they dress, what languages do they speak, and what religions do they follow? Diverse and well-thought-out cultures can add layers to your narrative.

Political Systems and Power Structures

Define the political landscape. Who holds power, and how is it distributed? Are there monarchies, democracies, or tribal councils? Consider the relationships between different nations or groups and the potential for conflict.

Economics and Resources

Understand the economy of your world. What resources are abundant or scarce? How do people trade, and what currencies do they use? The distribution of resources can drive plot points and character motivations.

Crafting Magic and Technology

Magic Systems

If your world includes magic, establish clear rules and limitations. What are the sources of magic? Who can use it, and how? Consistent magic systems prevent plot holes and maintain suspension of disbelief.

Technology Levels

Consider the technological advancements in your world. Are they using medieval weapons, steampunk machinery, or advanced futuristic gadgets? The level of technology can influence daily life, warfare, and exploration.

Time and Place

Historical Context

Establish the timeline of your world. Is it set in the past, present, or future? Consider historical events that have shaped the current state of the world. How have these events influenced societal development and cultural evolution?

Daily Life and Schedules

Describe the daily routines of your characters. What does a typical day look like for different social classes or cultures? Consider work hours, leisure activities, and societal expectations. The pace of life can vary greatly depending on technological advancements and cultural norms.

Timekeeping and Calendars

Develop a system of timekeeping and calendars. Are there specific seasons, festivals, or holidays that are significant? How do people measure time—by the sun, moon, or a mechanical clock? Unique timekeeping methods can add depth and authenticity to your world.

Clothing and Fashion

Cultural Significance

Explore how clothing reflects cultural identity, status, and occupation. Different regions and social groups might have distinct styles, fabrics, and accessories. What materials are commonly used, and how are garments crafted?

Fashion Trends

Consider the evolution of fashion in your world. What are the current trends, and how do they vary across different societies? Fashion can be influenced by historical events, climate, and interactions with other cultures.

Practicality and Symbolism

Think about the practicality of clothing in your world’s environment. How does the climate affect what people wear? Additionally, consider any symbolic meanings attached to certain garments or accessories. For instance, specific colors or patterns might denote rank or allegiance.

Religion and Beliefs

Pantheon and Deities

Create a pantheon of gods or a single deity, depending on your world’s religious structure. What are their characteristics, domains, and myths? How do they interact with mortals, if at all?

Rituals and Practices

Detail the religious rituals and daily practices of your world’s inhabitants. Consider ceremonies, festivals, and rites of passage. How do these practices influence daily life and societal norms?

Religious Institutions

Define the structure and influence of religious institutions. Are there temples, churches, or shrines? What roles do priests, shamans, or other religious figures play in society? The power dynamics between religious and secular authorities can add layers to your worldbuilding.

Languages and Communication

Linguistic Diversity

Develop the languages spoken in your world. Are there multiple languages or dialects? Consider the history of these languages and how they evolved. Language can be a powerful tool to convey cultural diversity and conflict.

Writing Systems

Design writing systems and scripts used for communication. Are there ancient texts or runes with special significance? How do literacy rates vary among different social classes and regions?

Non-Verbal Communication

Explore other forms of communication, such as body language, sign language, or symbolic gestures. How do people convey messages in situations where spoken language is impractical? These non-verbal methods can add depth and realism to your interactions.

Integrating Worldbuilding into Your Story

Show, Don’t Tell

Instead of dumping information on your readers, reveal your world organically through the narrative. Use dialogue, actions, and descriptions to weave worldbuilding details seamlessly into the story.

Character Perspectives

Different characters will experience and interpret your world in unique ways. Use their perspectives to highlight various aspects of your world, making it richer and more complex.

Consistency and Continuity

Maintain consistency in your world’s rules and details. Keep track of your worldbuilding elements to avoid contradictions and ensure a cohesive narrative.

Worldbuilding Tools and Resources

Maps and Diagrams

Create visual aids like maps, family trees, and diagrams to help you keep track of your world’s layout and relationships. Tools like Inkarnate or Wonderdraft can be helpful for map-making.

Worldbuilding Bibles

Maintain a worldbuilding bible—a document where you compile all your world’s details. This can include notes on geography, history, cultures, and more. It’s a valuable reference as you write and develop your story.

Inspiration from Real World and Fiction

Draw inspiration from real-world cultures, histories, and landscapes. Similarly, reading widely in your genre can provide insights into effective worldbuilding techniques.

Final Thoughts

Worldbuilding is a rewarding yet challenging aspect of storytelling. It requires imagination, attention to detail, and a deep understanding of your narrative’s needs. By following this comprehensive guide, you can create a vibrant, believable world that will captivate your readers and enhance your storytelling.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey!

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ghost-bison · 6 months ago

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1x12 episode of doctor who "bad wolf" is such an interesting episode, i just realized. not just because it's fun and fast-paced or because there's suspense, but also because, think of the actual plot of the episode.

the human race of 200 000 years into our future is forced to take part in games that were already in session in the 21st century.

we have big brother - a reality show which has the same name as the oppressive force that dictates your life and watches everything you're doing, violating your privacy, drawn from a dystopian book written to criticize this exact kind of behaviour. and what did capitalism do with it? a reality show. where people stand behind a screen, stalking on and dissecting your life. the participants are forced into reshaping their personality into what the audience (society) wants it to be. if they lose this game, they lose society's approval and that means they lose their sense of self. which ironically is what 1984 by george orwell criticizes.

then we have the weakest link - interesting choice yet again, because it's not the only television game show out there right? but that's the one they chose because its name tells you all you need to know: your ability (or lack thereof) to answer questions about specific topics, oftentime topics that aren't necessarily academic or even interesting (who cares about what year katy perry released her debut album or how many children this actor has, honestly?) to measure your intelligence. richard feynman said "never confuse education with intelligence, you can have a phd and still be an idiot". people who take part in tv game shows aren't chosen because they're geniuses, simply because it is not designed to be understood or played by a genius: it's made to entertain regular people and make them feel good about themselves, so that they don't try to be smart. it normalizes bullying and prevents you from using critical thinking by making you believe trivia equals intelligence, and if you don't have it, then you are, literally, the weakest link.

finally, we have what not to wear: a reality show where contestants (mostly women) are selected by people they know - as in, friends or family who call them out for their unfashionable dressing style, which is already fucked up as it is - and are videotaped and followed around for two weeks as they go from store to store to get a makeover. their taste is exposed by the camera crew, exposing them to bullying and more generally to criticism from anyone watching the show.

the episode explores those games 200 000 years in the future, where people are selected against their will, and moreover, the stakes of the games are now their own life. you lose, you die. Life is now nothing more than a bet, or russian roulette. which is... kind of how life works, actually: a game of pretense, you never know when it could stop. it's mostly not up to you, your only options are to give up and die, or go on and pray for it to work out. and if you don't fit into the mold, it just takes the decision away from you because life is unliveable when you don't fit in.

there are a few interesting ties between this episode and 1x07 the long game (and when you think about it, even the title was a clue as to what would come next), and it's not just the fact that they're both set on satellite 5, with 1x12 happening 100 years after: it's the consequences of the doctor's actions, and adam mitchell.

so in 1x07, the doctor thwarted the editor's and the jagrafess' plan and put an end to the hidden dictatorship. which was very similar to the one in 1x12, wasn't it? rewarding people who play along so they won't question the system.

there is, however, the additional touch of terror in 1x12 which, in 1x07, is only revealed to those who try and go against it, like poor suki who got turned into an icicle soon as she got to floor 500.

upon returning to satellite 5, just 100 years into the future, the doctor finds out that what he did actually put a halt to humanity's evolution, as the radio signals stopped emitting and humanity found itself isolated from the rest of the universe, but this time with no one to lead them. the reason being this: the doctor never stays.

the doctor is, himself, without command. but what differentiates him from the humans, though, is that... well... he is not human. isolation was imposed on him after he lost his entire species, the only ones who could truly understand him.

and while he travels with a human at his side, he is always very careful of whom he chooses to share his lifestyle with: the doctor doesn't abide by the rules, but neither does jack. and rose, although not as openly rebellious as the other two, questions those rules. what's more, she's curious and has a deep need for more than her regular life. but there is no hidden motive behind that curiosity, she is doing it for herself.

which leads us to adam mitchell, the wannabe companion of 1x07: technically a genius, adam manages to hop onboard the tardis after the doctor realizes that, maybe, adam is just like himself. a belief that is quickly debunked in the outcome of the episode, after adam prioritizes capital over his growing relationship with rose and hers and the doctor’s trust, risking breaking fixed points in time just to make money and gain fame and recognition, something the doctor is fundamentally against.

adam is academically smart, but what is it if not fatally dangerous when it is not met with common sense? I think it’s why the doctor left him with the chip in his head. he said it: adam would have to lead a very quiet life in order not to end up getting dissected. it’s not just a petty punishment or consequence for his actions, as i used to think it was, but a security, because adam’s intelligence is corrupted by modern day society and without retrains, it could have devastating consequences.

thus, the doctor calls himself the doctor because he wants to help people, yet he doesn’t have a degree to “earn” that title. it just means healer, and that's what he tries to be. as we learned in series 6, he is probably the reason this word even exists in the first place.

in 3x01 smith and jones, martha refuses to call him doctor as, for her, you need to earn that title. this probably influenced his decision to bring her along, not just because she met his criteria for a companion, but to prove her wrong and broaden her mind.

he wants to make her understand that theory isn't enough to become something so important. he understands that true intelligence comes from experience and what you choose to remember from said experience, like wisdom and compassion. he isn’t much into theory, because he learns by being curious: what makes people tick, what they like and don’t like, and in the process, he learns about himself, who he wants and doesn’t want around him.

in 1x12, the doctor knows the disintegrator bim won't be used on him because he is not afraid of difference; he is profoundly aware of his own difference, and therefore, he isn't compatible with the game.

rose laughs and ridicules the game; she doesn't see the point, as, contrary to other team players, especially rodrick, she's not driven my money or the need for approval, as the doctor taught her what life lived to its fullest looks like behind all the pretense and make-believe.

the doctor, rose and jack are to themselves a pretty cool representation of what society should be about

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ewingstan · 1 year ago

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I. Introduction

A while ago, I wrote on how Jack Slash was a prime example of how Worm approaches metatextual commentary. Wildbow has a general tendency in his first two serials especially to identify common story tropes and give them in-universe justifications. Jack Slash in particular is a response to the tendency for writers to give plot armor to the Joker and similar sorts of popular villain characters. The out-of-story justification of the authors ("we can't have someone just shoot him, that's boring, besides everyone loves this guy look at him go") becomes an in-story aspect of his powers: an ability to subtly influence other capes behavior allowing him to always escape danger. Plot armor transformed into an in-universe mechanic that characters are aware of, react to, and work against.

Notably, this tendency is never used to highlight the status of wildbow's characters as characters— there is no fourth-wall breaking or attempts to undermine the audience's perception of the story as containing essentially a self-contained world running on its own internal logic. But this certainly isn't the only way you could comment on Joker-type charcter's plot armor: Funny Games covers similar ground using the opposite trick, repeatedly having its home-invader villains draw attention to how they're characters in a story, and that whether they win or lose is determined wholly by the author's will. Director Michael Haneke continually draws his audience into the story only to violently and repeatedly pull them out with suspension-of-disbelief-shattering acts on the villains part. It's The Treachery of Images as a horror movie.

Together, Worm and Funny Games showcase two different approach to explaining why the villain gets to live another day. If you can explain their deal using only the internal logic of the story ("Jack has a power that lets them escape consequences"), then the author is giving a diegetic justification for the trope justified by mechanisms of the story's universe. If you can't explain their deal without reference to them being characters in a narrative ("Paul can talk to the audience and rewind time because he's a fictional character and can do whatever the author says he can do") then its a "narrative" or nondiegetic justification for the trope.

These can be combined. Seidlinger's Anybody Home? used them together for awkward effect: serial killers perform acts that get recorded by some mysterious "camera" that produces a log of their events, which through mystical and mysterious means gets distributed to film producers and adapted into horror movies. Killers have fully "narrative" reasons for following horror tropes—they know they have an audience and are behaving for their benefit. But the story suffers from its awkward in-story justification, its "mechanical" framing: the audience the killers are acting for are other people within the story's universe, not the readers of the book. Characters realize they're "victims" in a story, but they're framed not as existing fully for the story but as normal people who got caught within a story, stuck in it like one gets caught in a storm.

In this post I want to highlight some more elegant ways of combining the mechanical and narrative approaches to metafiction, especially in regards to plot armor. I'll be commenting on wildbow's second serial Pact, Homestuck, and Eidolon DISKA, and heavily spoiling all of them. I've divided them into sections so readers can avoid spoilers or skip over works they're uninterested in, though they're not separate essays. I'd maybe recommend checking out DISKA if you haven't. Its great. Alright then.

II.

Pact and the otherverse gives its characters diagetic reasons for following tropes that align with narrative rules though its magic system. Otherverse magic largely involves telling the universe a story and hoping that your behavior has enough symbolic resonance that it believes you. A lot of the magic spells work on a "I dunno, this feels like it would work" logic.

This means that characters need to be aware of how characters in good stories would act, and often need to behave in a way that is believable if they were characters in a story. The result is that Blake Thorburn ends up purposefully trying to emulate a monster from a horror story, purposefully playing into the tropes of such a character. He acts like a specific type of story character, not because he's broken the fourth wall and knows he's in a horror story, but because he knows convincing the universe that he's a horror villain will likely lead to the universe letting him survive just a little bit longer before he collapses into an exsanguinated heap.

However, Pact's approach to the specific mechanics and abilities of Blake and other monstrous entities of his ilk is much more in-line with how wildbow previously approached Jack Slash. Horror-movie style monsters are a grab-bag of entities called "Boogeymen" within the setting, with little in common outside of previously being people who had fallen through the cracks of reality and climbed out of the abyss changed.

The tropes of slasher movies are once again given mechanical justification: the monster drives conflict and acts unpredictably because being feared gives its more of a foothold in reality. It can't stay dead (and keeps returning for sequels) because it can always climb back out of the abyss again, or be summoned by Scourges to be used against their enemies. Some of the ways the in-universe boogieman mechanics reproduce these tropes are explicitly narrative justifications—they're stronger if the universe sees their ends as especially "iconic," and Blake seems to be empowered the most when he leans into character and goes on a rampage— but for the most part, you could explain their deal without having to refer to their roles as characters in a narrative.

III

The same couldn't be said for Homestuck's take on the serial-killer trope, which is explicable pretty much only in non-diagetic terms. Which is interesting insofar as its one of the only parts of Homestuck that doesn't at least provide a diagetic fig-leaf for a character following a cultural script.

Much like Pact's Otherverse, Homestuck also formalizes many narrative tropes as diagetic, in-universe mechanical laws of its setting. However, it doesn't bother giving justifications for why the setting has such mechanics. There's no equivalent to "they're like this because the magic of the abyss;" Homestuck's mechanical rules are almost more in the Funny Games vein of being inexplicable if you don't accept that they're the consequences of this being a story.

But the narrative rules it draws attention to are often all its own. See, in some ways the setting of Homestuck is meant to be an obvious set of fantasy Bildungromane. The characters enter a game world, Sburb, and are each deposited on a planet with almost stock templates: Land of Wind and Shade, Land of Heat and Clockwork, etc. Each are filled with a population of simple game constructs with little personality outside of what's needed to drop lore tidbits, and a slumbering denizen connected to a personal quest tailor-made for the player. This sense of "generic fantasy world made for a generic fantasy quest" is heightened by Homestuck's constant references to other media containing famous lands constructed from fantasy stories: Peter Pan/Hook, the Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, Don Quixote, and The Neverending Story. (That last example makes up not only a substantial amount of aesthetic references, but also structural echoes; as Homestuck copies it by having a second half in which reader-stand ins enter the story, characters go from one world to another, and the role of author and audience gets muddled in a world-threatening manner.)

It seems like the game Sburb created the players different worlds to facilitate a typical Bildungroman adventure. Enter the fantasy land, meet the locals, learn the lore, defeat the monster. Unlike Jacob's Bell, The Lands of Homestuck don't make sense as anything besides a game construct, a way to facilitate this narrative arc. And the character's tendency to sidestep the quests set up by the Lands and skip through or break things feels like a subversion of those typical sorts of fantasy stories.

A complicating factor, though, is that the game was set up with the expectation that the players would skip around and break things. The entire game is composed of a series of time loops, including the characters creating themselves, creating the big bad in an attempt to defeat him, etc. Everything that happens in a game session was engineered to happen "by" the game—including the parts that seem to break the intended narrative arc of the Lands. There's plenty of things that seem to be breaking the "intended" experience: Rose taking apart her game world, Vriska reading the mind of her Land's consorts to find out all the lore they have pre-programmed in, Jack Noir killing the Black King before the players could face him as the intended final boss. But all of these turn out to be essential conditions for the game coming to exist in the first place, for the characters to create themselves, for the Lands to be created as game constructs in the first place. The game creates conditions that require the players to "cheat."

In other words, its not just that the comic is subverting a typical fantasy story. Its that Sburb itself is a game that runs on the narrative rules. Not the narrative rules of a fantasy Bildungroman, but the narrative rules of a subversion of a fantasy Bildungroman. The subversion is expected and built-in.

This subversion-as-the-rule is something Hussie enjoys making the narrative conciet of a story: early Problem Sleuth was written with the one rule that the audience could never be right about how the main character's office worked. Its also a feature of Homestuck's general approach to characters and dialogue. I think a good example of this is Eridan and Feferi's early conversations. They get introduced as the primary examples of a form of alien romance the narrative just got done explaining, a pair of moirails that the narrator declares are "made for each other". But of course, the subversion of that is already built in, as before Eridan's full introduction we learned that he wanted to be in a different relationship with Feferi. So when the first few on-screen appearances of these characters turns out to be their break-up texts, its a "subversion" of the destined romance the narrator set-up, but its a sign-posted and expected subversion.

But back in terms of Sburb's mechanics: players of the game who perform a ritual to achieve god-tier status can only die if their death is either Heroic or Just: that is, they can only die if it’s narratively satisfying. If a powerful character dies without it being a satisfying heroic sacrifice or a satisfying end to a villainous rein of destruction—in other words, if the death is uninteresting and narratively pointless, then the character pops right back up. Like in Worm, plot armor is a mechanic of the setting that the characters can find out about and exploit, and like with Pact's boogeymen, characters become whole new types of beings as part of fitting to a character narrative that'd require plot armor. But unlike in wildbow's work, Homestuck's God Tiers have little in the way of diagetic justification. Hussie knows that there are situations where an audience won’t accept the stakes set out before them—they can tell that the bad thing can’t be allowed to happen, because if it did the plot couldn’t continue or the story would suffer, so they know the bad thing won’t happen. Accepting this, they play around with the trope by having it literally impossible for the bad thing to happen if the story would be worse for it.

But where it gets weird is how this plot-armor mechanic gets applied to Gamzee, in one of my favorite sections of Act 6. Gamzee was introduced as a joke character riffing on the juggalo evil clown subculture, who later goes on a murderous rampage for reasons that are never made fully obvious in-text. He then scuttles about the story as a figure who keeps breaking the story’s rules: both the mechanical rules of how Sburb works and the rules of storytelling generally. This ramps up a lot in Act 6, where he puts on a fake god-tier outfit and starts showing up at times and places he should not be able to be based on the established mechanics of Sburb, which up until then had been incredibly strict parameters on the story. Unlike a lot of the items that loop back in time in convoluted ways, we don’t see how Gamzee appeared on Jane’s planet, or went to the future to raise the cherubs, or all the other shit he gets up to. And we aren’t given a reason for why he’s selling blood like an RPG merchant or why he’s raising the big bad or why he’s doing anything at that point. He becomes a deus ex diabolica, a character whose not really a character at all so much as someone who sets up the obstacles in the story and has no reason for doing so besides the fact that the story wouldn’t work if he wasn’t there to set up the stakes.

One especially odd thing about him though is that even though he never actually reached God tier, he seemingly couldn't be killed.

At first this seems weird. Gamzee is breaking a core mechanical rule of Homstuck: he's immortal despite not being God-tier. But then you remember that the mechanical rule of God-tier immortality was already just a formalization of a narrative rule: a character can't die if the story isn't done with them. Homestuck is breaking its diagetic rules, but following the narrative rules they reflect.

This meta-interpretation of Gamzee's immortality is strengthened by the fact that the above conversation is taking place between Andrew Hussie and one of their characters. Furthermore, said character is a fandom stand-in who later transitions into being an author stand-in. This character (Caliborn) is the main villain of Homestuck, and has been interpreted as everything from the chains of narrative inevitability, to the interface of the webcomic itself, to Homestuck readers with an unhealthy relationship to the work, to the viler tendencies of Hussie themself present throughout the comic.

Not the only such stand-in; nearly all the villains of Homestuck assume some authorial role, as Hussie has an ongoing theme of equating the author role to being a manipulator. Thus the most heroic characters generally are reactive rather than proactive, thus Doc Scratch/Vriska/Dirk/etc all trying to author the timeline or claim causal responsibility for events while manipulating other characters, etc. But Caliborn ends up representing some more of Hussie's specific creative tendencies, and is the only character that Hussie's in-comic self has a conversation with.

Notably, this conversation has pretty much the only instance of Hussie presenting all the weird obstacles of Sburb as something they've set up as the author.

Oddly enough, apart from this, the yellow yard, and the Spades Slick sideplot, "Hussie" as a character has all but no role in the story. Which is in keeping with their (possible farcical?) ethos of all their characters existing as their own entities/character types, with Hussie just expressing them. The Entities in Worm actually end up being more direct author figures than Andrew Hussie's own self-insert, since they at least perform the role of authors (control characters in a way that produces dynamic and interesting scenarios).

This is a part of why the Hussie stand-in apparently lacks knowledge of their own story, and gets surprised by it.

Hussie claims even they don't know where Gamzee got things, what he gets up to, or why he's doing what he's doing. The first two things are probably true, honestly. The actual author Hussie may not have an idea in mind for how Gamzee gets to any of the places he does, since its not really relevant to the story. It feels weird that he doesn't, since so much of the rest of Homestuck is tracking how various objects travel from one point in a timeline to another, but when there's no interesting answer to be constructed by the author none really has to be provided. Again, by this point Gamzee is a plot device that Hussie has dressed up as a funny clown for the audience's amusement, he's not really a character.

But if the Hussie stand-in is meant to be taken seriously when they say they don't know why Gamzee has the keys, then there's a disconnect between Hussie the character and Hussie the author. Since the keys do have a plot purpose that's revealed almost immediately, and that Hussie almost certainly had planned.

A weakness in metafiction generally is that having the author be a character in any real capacity lowers they're ability to be a true author figure. If the stand-in is surprised by something the author wrote, then they're not reflecting the author. If the characters kill the author stand-in, but the story keeps on going, then what the hell was the author representing?

The only piece of metafiction I've seen that squared that circle is EIDOLON DISKA, which mostly suceeds because of its structure as an actual-play. It has a GM who serves as a narrator alongside being the voice of almost all the characters, but all the main characters are acted out by other people. So it can pull a lot of the standard metafiction moves in much more convincing ways. The narrator reveals that he's an in-universe character who they actually know, and whose been writing the story they're all in. When the player characters are still able to rebel and fight against the narrator, it works, because the PCs actually are representing other people making decisions apart from the GM. Even a character usurping the author ends up working, since it just means that character's player becomes the GM.

As you'd expect, EIDOLON DISKA is another piece that blends diagetic and narrative rules. Gods currently writing the story (aka the current GM) can't rewrite portions that previous gods wrote, because doing something so narratively unsatisfying would break their own godhood. Breaking the rules of the Eidolon rpg system also risks being usurped, since they're the narrative rules the story runs on, and the diagetic rules of Godhood are just narrative rules.

This gets most interesting when the characters end up dying, as will sometimes happen in an actual-play of a ttrpg where death is a mechanic. The podcast is divided into two time periods, with the first group being the founding members of their school's mystery solvers club. The second group are the members of the same club 20 years later, trying to solve the murder of the founders. Because the first group's death is a set event that the narrator already wrote would happen at a specific time, every time the characters in that first group die before that point, they have to come back. And once it becomes clear that they're characters, they become aware of this, and start abusing it. They take bigger risks, stop freaking out when their friends get hurt or killed in battle, start getting chatty with the increasingly annoyed grim reaper—in other words, they realize they have plot armor and start acting like it. Since they're aware of and secure of their plot armor, they use it more fully than Blake does. And since its an actual play instead of something written by one person, they're actually able to use that plot armor to be more than a villain thrown into heroes way like Jack Slash or Gamzee. DISKA isn't finished yet, but I have the most hope for it going into interesting places with plot armor out of any of these stories.

#wormblr #parahumans #homestuck #eidolon diska #eidolon playtest #wildbow #andrew hussie #Youtube #pactblr #otherverse #mals says

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