#I WANT TO DO ASK GAMES TO MUCH THEY SEEM SO COOL ACTUALLY

[pandorias-box]

//HI i got tagged in this so i figured i’d be nice and do this as well and shout out some blogs and blorbos i like (but i’ll try not to tag too many bc some people have already mentioned them before)

//list is below the cut because it’s a bit long

@from-ultra-space - fellow blue bitch! we’ve written a ton of integral plotlines together and they’ve been an ally of pandoria since the beginning.

@pkmnspacehistory - really cool integration of actual aerospace history with the pokemon world in addition to being an interesting concept in general

@vulgrados-best - MIGUEL. OH MIGUEL. i’ve been following the redux crew intensely for the past few months and i love all of the muns and muses within that storyline but especially miguel. i can’t wait for hir to get in the spotlight but im also scared because the redux is. a lot. (for the sake of the other muns of the redux crew, i will not be tagging them all but there is an ongoing arc with them and @/yveltal-real that is happening and if you want to check them out because their storylines are so good)

@wandering-white-dwarf - another zinnia blog! god there are. a lot of them, but this is the one i’ve interacted with the most. i love seeing people’s individual takes on canon characters and this is no exception

@lumenflowered - i have never played bloodborne but all i know is that lady maria of the clocktower is so fucking cool and all of the arcs you have done with her and other fallers connected to the soulsborne games are so interesting to me.

@tinkatinktrain - they mylahhhhhhhh. god she’s just like me fr (attempting to be silly despite the horrors persisting). even if our character’s haven’t interacted that much, seeing their posts on my dash makes me do the occasional audible chuckle.

@water-pokemon-appreciator - another rotumblr funnyman. pandoria may be sick of his shit but i’m not. sidon is such a good way to make an “overpowered” character seem down to earth instead of someone who just overexploits their abilities. i mean, he does use them in incredibly mundane situations sometimes and it’s funny.

@battle-subway-ghost - YOU. the one who tagged me for this ask game. i’ve been loosely following paris and sprite (@/thatfailedpokemontrainer) ever since i started rotumblr. much like with the reduxverse, i’m engaged with a bunch of the plotlines you’ve come up with over the amount of time i’ve been in the community.

// what if we all tagged our favorite blogs and went to check eachother's favorite blogs out as a result of tagging our favorite blogs. what then

[ganondoodle]

Regarding Demise: He is an interesting concept, as is the whole eternal cycle, but for that to actually become something worthwhile the games/stories would have to actually DO something with it. So far they are introduced in Skyward Sword and thats it! No other game even references them. And, yes, that cheapens EVERY other game because there is this implication that its all out of the control of the actual characters in the story because of this one asshole that we only ever saw once! Why not have Ganondorf realize that he is possessed/manipulated by this weird old Demon God? How would he react, would he embrace it, would he rebel, would he be broken by the realization that none of his actions were ever *his*? I dont even care which of these options they pick, as long as they pick any of it and do just ANYTHING with the concept.

Or maybe Link or Zelda figures out the Cycle and starts looking into breaking it because endlessly repeating Demon Attacks kinda suck and you dont want that for your descendants.

Or have a game focus on them remembering bits from past lives and having to piece it all together or, again, just ANYTHING!

The closest they ever came to was with BOTW Zelda praying to Hylia, aka HERSELF, to unlock her powers, which is some brutal narrative irony, but not much more.

And regarding the whole Zelda is Hylia thing, I've seen some headcanons about how Skyward Sword Zelda is terrified of herself after learning that, because she now has to assume that everything she did was planned by a version of her that she no longer is. Is Link her friend or is he the useful pawn that Hylia needs to turn into the Hero? Does she even deserve his affection when she probably manipulated him into becoming her champion and fighting, possibly dying for her all her life?

Thats juicy, thats something you can do something with but Nintendo really does like to plan those stories game per game without any care for the larger story.

Which I guess is the Irony of it all. They tried the whole larger connected story/universe thing once: With Skyward Sword. After all that was also the time we got the first Hyrule Historia & "official timeline" as well as "How it all began" in the game itself.

It felt like the start of a new era for Zelda games and stories and then it just... wasn't.

And while I get that they want to focus on gameplay over story, I will never stop mourning the stories we could get/have gotten, if they put a bit more thought into things.

I actually feel like its harder to make the 'cycle' into an interesting plot point when its a .. divine thing that happens, and not perpetuated by the people (though not impossible, given how the series is build up it would need alot of work to not make it worse still..)-

i actually cannot stand the idea that ganondorf is possessed or manipulated, made eviler by demise somehow (demise is dead, leave him beeeeee hes not some evil master mind behind anything aaaaah) bc it STILL takes away ganondorfs agency and character and gives right into the whole hes basically born evil and just pushes the fault tm onto someone else it in turn legitimizes that the kingdom of hyrule and its high rule (heehoo) is right and if only gan wasnt manipulated hed be good tm, aka allied with the goodest guys, hed gladly accept their invitation and join their holy empire of goodness tm if wasnt for da demon

(and i love to say, who decides what is good tm and evil tm? bc hyrules monarchs making every other tribe their subordinate and persecuting shiekah for example isnt what id call good but its fine bc the good holy guys did it in the name of "peace" -what is their idea of peace? everyones under their rule and must worship their god? uh oh- and resistance to it is gonna get you labelled as evil!! (unless you join their holy kingdom and become their vassal of GOOD) what good and evil boils down to in zelda is .. being allied/ruled by the kingdom of hyrule and being opposed to them, even if its only not wanting to be subjugated by them)

i can see the appeal to some degree, but i dont like the idea of ganondorf even being able to be manipulated or possessed, what makes his character, before it got flattened into well he just be demon in the eyes of the average fandom, interesting is his unbreakable will, that drive to keep on living and resisting those that want him dead, its poetic and sad, to the point that (until totk ...) it was really just ONE ganondorf that refused to die and came back over and over (also something i found a compelling thought for botw, that after all this time theres nothing left BUT his will to resist, its a tragic idea that rly spoke to me)

my personal idea of the cycle is that its only a cycle bc they, the kingdom of hyrule and their belief system, keep it going, its not a divine thing that needs to be broken (though the divine surely messes with it, just for the bit i guess) but something that keeps repeating bc hyrule is so soaked into the idea that their princess once was a god and hers is the right to rule it all in light- so anyone who doesnt agree must be of the demons from the darkness seeking to destroy the world, and what means the 'world' could just mean the kingdom of hyrule- in botw even with the calamity people went on and lived, same in windwaker, they dont need the holy kingdom to live- (who is to say the 'monsters' are bad for the land, to me they mostly looked like well adapted territorial beasts, and the bokblins etc clearly arent mindless monsters either, why do they need to be eradicated? they attack you? ok dont go into their territory, or defend yourself, you dont need to exterminate something just bc it could be a threat at some point)

(i do agree that conflict with zelda being interesting but uuuh .. well they never did anythign with that huh)

in the end, demise was just a throw away villain, and if i may get my tin foil hat back here, i feel like the whole creation myth skyward sword does was really just a way for them to get out of the predicament of having to consider a villain to be treated like a person to save themselves from having to think about what they imply and can just go, well this is the evil demons, this is the good gods- ironically enough the attempt to get out of having to consider complicated writing it ends up reversing straight back into the WORST of kinds of implications .. that arent even subtext anymore, if totk is anythign to go by, the most 'simple' or 'easy' narrative to go for might not be actually simple, just a so often retold one that it appears simple if not made aware of its dark maw, the status quo repeated ad nauseam

(and if i may, the whole gameplay over story thing is bs in my eyes, that sounds like the typical attempt of dismissing any critique, just like the stupid, and frankly, offensive "its just for kids" argument, story and gameplay are inherently intertwined, the story influences the gameplay, the gameplay influences the story, especially in a series like zelda that is a futile thing to go for and a reason why the stories themselves lack depth, how are you gonna have an epic adventure that drives you to get through any amount of puzzles and battles if there is no story to motivate you, at this point it feels like the series has set itself up for catastrophic failure bc i imagine, people might just keep buying and playing the games bc its attached to the series, bc they hope to see characters they loved return, new ones that will grab their attention, perhaps be taken away by a world that meant alot to them once before, hope that there will be something exciting-

i am not saying the series has no value or doesnt do anything well (hello who am i) but how many times can you repeat 'this guy good he fight evil guy he get the pretty princess as reward' without any interesting twists or narrative, even the most beloved characters can only keep it passable for so long, even the best gameplay loses its potential if its surrounded by cardboard characters and a story so "simple" as offensive it fits into a single page, i often wonder how a game would be seen if it wasnt titled -the legend of zelda- ..

it hurts especially when looking at its long history, how much estblished thigns it could exploit and expand, the potential the series has is still immense, it hurts to see it be wasted over and over :(

[gu6chan]

99% just my autism speaking here but something ive been noticing lately that im sorta kinda 😶 about is when ppl are like "I think you'll like this" but not bc they ACTUALLY think you'll like it, rather they just got into it and want you to also get into it so "I think you'll like this" is a nice personal hook. i love chill stuff as much as any other person ofc but given i don't divulge that EVER, what makes you think my berserk reading, made in abyss watching, drakengard playing ass would like YURU CAMP????

[kavehayati]

Gosh maybe it’s for the best that I don’t watch shows bc seeing people even if they’re fictional having such profound friendships gives me serious fomo 🙁

[gooberdude101]

IF YOU INSIST!!!

last song; I thiiink it was eyes without a face by Billy idol it’s SUCH A GOOD SONG!!!

Three ships: spacerap passionfruit soundcloud not ranked but like. I <3 shipping mischa he’s silly

Currently reading; things not seen by Andrew clements!!! This boy goes invisible out of nowhere one day basically it’s good I’m bad at explaining things

Last movie: I don’t… watch movies but my last documentary was have a good trip (it’s about celebrity experiences with psychedelics I’m really interested in psychedelics but I also think. It’s tied to my obsession with the concept of brain damage I’ll get into it in depth if someone asks (please do)

Craving; I could really go for McDonald’s fries actually

MY sillies: @madwickedawesome @wow-itz-darbyyy I don’t know anyone on tumblr actually but shoutout to the anon who had the courage to confess to writing vampire Mischa self insert fanfiction ur a real one ☝️

rules: tag 9 people you want to know better/ catch up with, i was tagged by @hey-its-zezzy

last song: dinosaur island by tom cardy

three ships: i do not have the energy to get invested in shipping characters tbh, but i have been getting really into actual ships, specifically 18th century fully rigged ships, the sail structure is Fascinating

currently reading: going postal by terry pratchett but in french

last movie: glass onion and like three episodes of supernatural

craving: those sweet cookies with jam inside

tags (nine people is way too many so here's three) @myperfecttalia @manuscripts-don-t-burn @goodhuy

[babyleostuff]

boys and their toys

𝜗𝜚 THEME: angst (+ hints of fluff) 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!wonwoo x fem!reader, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 1.9k

SYNOPSIS: fighting with you has to be one of wonwoo’s biggest nightmares, so when you reset his game - will that be enough for him to finally lose his temper?

natalia’s note: i know you can’t technically pause a game, so this is probably going to be big highly inaccurate, forgive me gamer people ://

“did you touch my computer?” 

uh-oh. no “darling”, no “love”, not even a “baby”. that couldn’t mean anything good. 

you turned off the stove, and quickly wiped your hands. it was honestly amazing how the lack of your usual pet name made you spiral because why did your heart start beating so fast all of a sudden, but… did you touch your boyfriend’s computer today? you never had the reason to, it’s not like you shared his passion of gaming, so you never really touched it or did anything with it. even if you wanted to check something you always did it on your own computer or your phone. 

“yes, wonwoo?” you asked slightly out of breath, peeking into your bedroom. 

your boyfriend sat at his gaming chair with headphones covering one of his ears, his brows furrowed and lips pursed out, as he was typing something furiously on his new purple keyboard. “i paused the game before i left for practice today,” he said, and by his cold tone you figured you wouldn’t like what you were about to hear, “and now it’s gone.” 

he finally turned his head to look at you, and to be honest, you’d rather he’d turn back to the computer screen. wonwoo was never the one to pick fights with you, he always insisted on cooling down and spending some time apart to gather your thoughts so no one would end up hurt, and even during the biggest fights you’ve had in your relationship, you’ve never seen him so outwardly furious. 

suddenly self-conscious, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “i don’t know what happened. i didn’t touch anything.” because you didn’t, you were certain of that. “you know i never use it anyway.” sure, you cleaned today, you had your day off, and with wonwoo at work you didn’t have anything else to do, so you figured it’d be the perfect time to do some cleaning and dusting. but there’s no way you reset his game, right? 

“my keyboard is clean, so you had to do something with it,” wonwoo said, his brows furrowing even more. you didn’t like the way his eyes seemed to darken, and you certainly didn’t like the tone of his voice. he wasn’t yelling at you, but then again he was always so soft spoken with you that you weren’t used to hearing him being so cold. 

“i was cleaning, but i didn’t press anything,” you said quickly. “i swear.” 

“you must’ve, because clearly the game had been reset,” he scoffed. “how many times have i told you not to touch my computer when a game is on? is it seriously so hard to understand?” 

you couldn't believe what you were actually hearing. wonwoo, your wonwoo was calling you dumb? “it was an accident,” you straightened your spine, and walked further into the room. “i wanted to clean the keyboard for you since you have been complaining about it being dirty for days now. maybe if you weren’t so lazy you would've done that yourself,” you loved him with all your heart but you wouldn’t let him disrespect you over something as stupid as a video game. “i wanted to do something nice for you, and you know i’d never do anything to your game on purpose.” 

for a second you thought he’d say something back, but instead he only shook his head, and covered his other ear with the headphone. 

you couldn’t actually believe him.  

like an idiot, you stood in the middle of the room in disbelief. you didn’t know why he was so pissed about it, sure - you knew how much time he spent to get to the level he was on, but it was still just a game. besides, his behaviour was so unlike him, and it made everything so much worse. 

“have fun playing your games, wonwoo,” you said, though you weren’t sure if he heard you. not that you cared. you quickly gathered your things, and left his apartment. there was no way you'd stay there, and act as if nothing had happened. 

after a couple of days of radio silence you weren’t sure what to do next. 

it’s not like you would call him or text him or anything - it was his job to man up and apologise, but a part of you, the part that always cared for him no matter what, really wanted to check up on him, which you weren’t sure how you felt about. he was the one to make you feel like the smallest person on earth, he was the one to make you feel like you did something wrong, so why did you feel responsible for checking up on how he was doing? 

you didn’t want to make any excuses for wonwoo, that didn’t feel right, but… you really wanted to talk this out. you had never gotten in a fight where you spent so much time apart - even when you fought when he was on tour you still managed to make up rather quickly. 

and soon you started noticing the small things you were starting to miss. his glasses laying around the apartment, and him running around trying to find them before work. his arms wrapped around your waist as you’d be cooking dinner. his featherlight kisses he’d place on your forehead after coming home late thinking you were already asleep. 

for someone who insisted that fighting with you had to be one of his biggest nightmares, he was being really stubborn. 

you sighed and waddled over to your kitchen to make something to eat. after your fight you really lost your appetite, but you knew you shouldn’t treat yourself so harshly after what happened. to be honest you generally lost the motivation to do anything.

just when you managed to put the pan on the stove you heard a loud knock. the sun had already set, and you felt more than ready to call it an early night after dinner, nor did you expect anyone to come over. “yes?” you opened the door a bit hesitant. a small part of you was hoping it’d be the person you were really starting to miss at this point, but to your disappointment it was a delivery guy, the last person you’d expect to pop up at your front door. 

“i didn’t order anything,” you said, frowning. your first thought was that it simply had to be a mistake, but then you noticed that the bag the guy was holding was from one of your favourite chinese places. well, whoever ordered it had a great taste. 

“is this your address?” he asked and showed you his phone with yes - your exact address. 

he did not just order you takeout. 

“who was this ordered by?” you asked immediately. 

“um, let me check,” he muttered, “jeon wonwoo.” 

you thanked the guy, and took the bag from him. 

and it didn’t stop there. 

for the next couple of days you were greeted with a delivery guy at your door at the exact time you usually ate your dinner. you always thanked them and took the takeout because free food is free food, and if this was wonwoo’s way of being stubborn then so be it - you wouldn’t let the food go to waste just to be petty. 

but you wouldn’t lie - anytime you were greeted by the amazing smell of your favourite food your heart beat a bit faster. wonwoo has always always been a man of silent acts of service, and it never failed to make you feel loved, even now when you were fighting.

the day after the city had been struck by a storm. it was bad, the rain was pouring for the whole day, and you could hear the thunder constantly rumbling in the distance. thankfully you didn’t have to go out that day, but it made you miss wonwoo even more. you always used to cuddle on days like these if he was fortunate enough to have some time off. 

when you got the weverse notification you picked up your phone, and clicked on the app immediately, a reflex you picked up early in your relationship, and read the message your boyfriend posted. 

make sure to bring an umbrella with you today. and if you’re going to drive, be careful  

you didn’t have to think twice to know he wrote this thinking about you. anytime it rained, even if it was a drizzle, he turned into a worried mum, and nagged you about being careful and bringing an umbrella with you, as if he didn’t put it in your bag before leaving for the schedules for you. 

after a week and a half after you stormed out of wonwoo’s apartment you were starting to settle into your little routine of coming back to an empty home, getting the takeout, and eating it alone in your bedroom, where you could feel your boyfriend’s presence more than anywhere else in the house. if you were feeling extra sappy that day you wore one of his hoodies to make yourself feel even more miserable. 

but something changed that week. 

you just closed the door with another takeout when you got the message you were waiting for all of those lonely nights. 

can we talk?  please

maybe you should’ve been more stubborn, and ignored his message. maybe you were wrong for typing out a “yes”, but you didn’t care. it didn’t mean you’d forgive him, you were still very much angry at him, but you needed to see him. needed to see if he was okay. 

i’ll come by after work tomorrow  eat well 

you smiled at your phone with teary eyes as you noticed one more thing you were missing. his stupid “thumbs up” emoji he put in half of his texts. 

you weren’t sure what to expect the next evening. you didn’t know if you’d start yelling at him or if you’d start bawling your eyes out after seeing him after what felt like an eternity. what you were sure of was that you were nervous as hell, which was kind of ironic because you didn’t even feel that way before your first date. 

this time when you heard the knock on your door you knew it wouldn’t be the delivery guy. 

sort of.

“i brought food,” wonwoo said, as if that was what mattered to you. 

he looked bad. the dark purple circles under his eyes. the slumped wide shoulders. the cheekbones more prominent than ever. tearing your soul apart would hurt less than seeing him like this. 

“will you…,” he took a shaky inhale, looking at you from behind his glasses. you had to resist the urge to grab his face and adjust them, as they were sitting crookedly on his nose as usual. “will you let me apologise?” 

“that’s all i’ve been waiting for you dumbass,” you sighed, and grabbed his hand to pull him inside your apartment. 

even though you didn't know how this night would end, whether you would be able to forgive him today, or if you would need more time for everything to go back to normal, you were glad to have wonwoo by your side. you were convinced that the fight happened for a reason, whatever it may have been, but despite everything, you were happy that you could go through it with him.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot 

[creamecafe]

Can you please write how squid game men will react to having a crush on reader?

How Squid Game Men Would Having to a Crush on Reader (Season 2 Edition)

Pairing: Squid Game Men x GN!Reader (No pronouns used)

Warnings: fluff, mentions of drug, SFW, kinda stalking but not yandere or dark! themes

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for requesting I hoped you enjoy! I'm sorry guys I couldn't add Lee Myung-Gi, it reached the limit for gifs so I'm doing part 2.

Women's version and a continuation will be posted soon!

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

Seong Gi Hun

He thought that finding love or being attracted to someone was impossible after what he had been through

But when he saw you, it’s like seeing a past glance of his old self

Wants you on his team immediately

His social skills and personality he feels like has lost color, but would try just for you

Young-il

Thinks using the term “crush” is childish

He likes to use the word “fascinated”

Is always thinking of ways to talk to you

Is more smiley around you and asks you about your day

Thanos

Is lookin at you when he gets the chance to (Gettting breakfast or lunch)

Tries to come up with pick up lines for you, but ends up messing up (In which Nam Guy laughs and Thanos hits him)

Always rapping in front of you to seem cool

Has you by his side always and on his team

Doesn’t even want to take drugs because you’re considered to him his new addiction in a way

Kang Dae Ho

Once he realizes he has a crush on you, everything changes

He tries to not act so nervous around you, but he can’t help it

Stutters a lot when he talks to you

Has his jacket off a lot because he gets warm/flustered when thinking about you or when you’re around

Nam Gyu

Tries to act cool around you, but can't stop smiling around you

Thanos is hyping him up and would tease him about your crush

Is always fixing his hair before talking to you

Park Min-Su

Is shy as always, but around you is different

He likes you because you're the only in Thanos' group to actually treat him like a real person

Tries to muster up the courage to talk to you

Listens to you set up plans for the games because he loves hearing your voice

Hwang Jun-Ho

Tries to keep his chill persona up, but is nervous inside

Is always complimenting you how you look

Loves to give little subtle flirting hints but not too obvious

Salesman

Has a crush on you probably in the most unhealthy way, but still keeps his distance

Overhears what stuff you like and will buy it for you

Write down every thing you like and will remember

Will talk to you when he has the chance in the subway

Taglist:

@hobinistaworld, @swuzzin, @magicalconnoisseurcoffee, @dxrlingluv, @ninahorikoshifr, @ikeithy, @vampiregirlxoxoxo, @sassyyoyo, @cloudysxkura, @hollxe1, @ill-loveyouthroughthestars, @lovesickxmina, @basoressia, @61f1mazx, @chirikoheina, @creepyp-mp4

Navigation | Main Masterlist | Squid Game Masterlist | Squid Game Men Masterlist | Join my taglist!

[vaguely-concerned]

I understand and agree with a lot of the frustrations about the shortcomings of Inquisition as a story. but sometimes when I hear people complain about the chosen one narrative in it I do want to just be like... you know it's a deconstruction of the concept more than anything, right. the inquisitor isn't actually chosen by anything except stumbling into the wrong (right?) room at the right (wrong?) time because they like, heard a noise or whatever. or if you think they are chosen, as many do in-universe, that's something you have to take on faith, the maker-or-whoever moves in mysterious ways indeed-style. the Inquisitor isn't actually a Destined Chosen One, they're a Just Some Guy in a fancy hat, self-delusions of grandeur to taste as you'd prefer.

a running thread that goes through all of the personal quests of the companions is the concept of a comforting lie vs. an uncomfortable truth, upholding old corrupt structures vs. disrupting them, and the role of faith in navigating that. (blackwall the warden vs. thom rainier the liar and murderer. hissrad vs. the iron bull, or is that the other way around? cassandra and the seekers -- do we tell the truth about what we find, even if it means dismantling the old order of the world? and so on.) and your inquisitor IS at the same time a comforting lie (a necessary one, in dark times? the game seems to ask) and an uncomfortable truth (we are the result of random fickle chance, no protective hand is held over the universe, it's on us to make a better world because the maker sure as hell won't lift a divine finger to help anyone, should he against all odds exist). faith wielded for political power... where's the point that it crosses the line into ugliness? is it before it even begins? what's the alternative? will anyone listen to the truth, if you tell it?

interesting how you also get a mix of companion agency in this -- you have characters like dorian who ALWAYS choose one side of the comforting lie vs. uncomfortable truth dichotomy. he will always make up his own mind to go back to tevinter and try to dismantle the corruption of the old system no matter what you say, or how you try to influence him. meanwhile iron bull is on the complete opposite side of the spectrum -- so psychologically trapped and mangled, caught in an impossible spiritual catch-22, that his sense of identity is left entirely to you and your mercy. you cannot change dorian in any way that matters; you can be his friend or not, support him or not, but he is whole no matter what. you are given incredible and potentially destructive-to-him power over bull's soul. it's really cool (and heartbreaking) to think about.

this is a game about how history will eat you even while you're still alive, and shape you into whatever image it pleases to serve it, and for all your incredible power right now you are powerless in the face of the gravitational force of time -- of more than time, of History. you won't recognize yourself in what History will make of you, because you belong to it now. you don't belong to yourself anymore and you never will again. the further you were from what it needs from you to begin with, the more you will find yourself distorted in its funhouse mirror. (why hello there inquisitor ameridan, same hat!)

and to me this is so much the core of what Dragon Age is about right from the Origins days -- how and by whom history gets written, the inherent unreliable narration of it all. I hope you like stories, Inquisitor. You are one now.

I do think it's probably still the weakest of the games narratively, and it's hampered by its structure and bloated systems. but I also find it disingenous to say that there's nothing deeper or actually interesting going on with it, thematically. if you're willing to engage with it there is Some Real Shit going on under the high fantasy-tinted surface.

[thankskenpenders]

Thoughts on two specific areas of the writing in Sonic X Shadow Generations

The best new 3D Sonic game in over a decade (or even two, depending on who you ask) dropped late last year. And I didn't write anything about it! Sometimes life happens. Well, I've finally sat down to finish Shadow Generations, and by now everyone has already been singing its praises for three months. This is the rare instance where the entire Sonic fandom, and even mainstream reviewers, are in agreement on something. The level design is the best it's been in a long, long time and the cool factor is off the charts, embracing Sonic's peak cringe era in an incredibly confident way. It's great. If you're even reading this post, you probably don't need me to tell you that. So I won't!

No, what I'm really interested in here is the writing. Because this is me we're talking about. But I actually don't want to talk about the main narrative of Shadow Generations, which is really solid little story about Black Doom trying to mold Shadow into his perfect soldier. No, I'd like to zero in on two other aspects of the writing here: the revisions made to Sonic Generations, and Gerald Robotnik's unlockable journal.

The updated Sonic Generations script

The new package mostly presents Sonic Generations how you remember it. There are some tweaks, but it's not a major overhaul. Graphically, I don't think the game has been touched much, if at all. I certainly can't notice any difference without a side-by-side comparison, despite playing it on a PS5. The most notable update is that the game's script has been rewritten by Ian Flynn.

Naturally, this caught my attention. Generations always had a nothingburger story, so with Ian rewriting Pontac and Graff's lame dialogue there was nowhere to go but up. (I don't like to pin the blame for those games' stories entirely on them, as a ton of it was dictated to them by Sonic Team, but, well, I don't think they're very good dialogue writers.) But it's less a complete rewrite and more like Ian was brought on as a script doctor for some minor touch ups here and there. Many lines of dialogue are completely identical to how they were originally written in 2011, and many others only have slight wording changes. Ian was clearly not allowed to request additional scenes or extend the ones that already existed. He has to match the original beat for beat so that they can reuse 99% of the cutscene animations. Don't expect it to be a whole new experience compared to the original.

Still, I think the new script is an improvement, albeit a minor one. Various things have been tweaked to maintain characterization consistency. Cream calls Sonic "Mr. Sonic" instead of just "Sonic." Instead of calling Sonic "buddy," Rouge uses the pet name "Blue," like she tends to do in things like the IDW comics. Espio doesn't have to remind you in the dialogue that he's a ninja, and he no longer has a line making it sound like he has some kind of soul reading power. I also like that Modern Sonic now actually has responses to what his friends say when he rescues them, rather than being silent like Classic Sonic. They won't blow you away, but they make Sonic feel a little more engaged with everything.

In general, the altered dialogue just seems tighter to me, and some of the more childish or trite wording of Pontac and Graff's script has been altered. Here, let's actually make a direct comparison, just because this stuff is interesting to me as a writer. Here's a couple lines from after the Egg Dragoon fight late in the game, in the original script:

Modern Eggman: Ooooh... I can't believe this! I was supposed to beat you this time. Modern Sonic: Aw, I'm sorry! I didn't get that memo. I beat you every time! [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat this guy every time. It's like it's our job or something!

This is a simple exchange. Eggman is mad that he lost. Sonic is unflappably confident because he always beats Eggman, and he explains this to his younger self. But the wording here isn't particularly good. Eggman's simple and direct wording makes him come off like a little kid who's mad because his older brother beat him at Mario Kart, rather than a mad scientist who just had his plans foiled. It's making light of the situation.

And I've never liked Sonic saying "It's like it's our job or something!" That doesn't feel like a thing Sonic would say, it feels like a thing an outside observer would say about Sonic. This is a frequent problem with so-called "MCU dialogue," where quips meant to echo the commentary of a casual, somewhat disinterested audience are inserted into the story itself so that the writers can be like "See? We get it. We're genre-savvy, too!" It also just reminds me of bad Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric lines like "Rings! It's like they're made for me!"

And then here's Ian's rewrite:

Modern Eggman: I recalibrated everything! This was supposed to be my time! Modern Sonic: Oh, please, keep dreamin', Egg-head. I beat you every time. [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat him every time. Our score card's flawless.

Eggman's still mad about his defeat, but the line "I recalibrated everything!" makes it more specific. He put all this work into the engineering side of his latest scheme and got tunnel vision, thinking if he got his creations just right there'd be no way he could lose. "This was supposed to be my time!" also turns it into a time travel pun, which is a bonus. He's still pitching a fit over losing, but it feels more like Eggman pitching a fit, rather than sounding childish.

And then instead of saying that beating Eggman is "like his job or something," Sonic says he's got a flawless score card against Eggman. He doesn't take Eggman seriously as a threat—at least, not to his face. He acts like it's all a game. But he conveys this in a way that feels truer to the character, rather than feeling like the words of a real world observer poking fun at the tropes of the Sonic series.

Is this amazing, A+ dialogue that blows me away? No. Again, it's not a completely different scene from the one we already had. Ian had to fit the beats of what was already there. He couldn't go all out and write an all new story confirming his longstanding headcanon that the Time Eater is a remnant of Solaris or whatever. But the wording here makes the existing story land a little better and feel truer to the characters in subtle ways.

But to me, the main change is that the Sonics and Tailses seem to have a more solid understanding of what's going on with the timeline and the Time Eater, compared to how idiotic they sometimes seemed in the original game. Which is good! No more standing outside Green Hill and wondering why it seems so familiar. Thank god. As part of this, yes, there are a few more references to past games in the dialogue, like Sonic briefly being confused about the fact that they're time traveling without the Time Stones, or South Island and Westside Island being acknowledged as the normal locations of Green Hill and Chemical Plant. Yes, ha ha, insert joke about how Ian loves references here. Look, it's Sonic fucking Generations. It's a game built entirely out of nostalgic references. Just own it! And, again, in this instance Sonic and Tails come off as less stupid when they make it clear that they do, in fact, remember their adventures from presumably less than a year ago in-universe.

Eggman, too, seems to have a better understanding of the powers he's toying with. Where in the original vesion his focus was simply on going back in time to undo his previous defeats and he seemed kind of oblivious to how much the Time Eater was actually fucking up the universe, here Eggman says he wants to use the Time Eater to give himself complete control over the entire timeline. Eggman also makes way fewer references to his own failures and shortcomings. Of course he won't admit that Sonic has defeated him time and time again. To him, he's never truly lost—Sonic just keeps delaying the inevitable total victory for the Eggman Empire.

So, yes. The new Sonic Generations script is better. It won't blow anyone away, but it's better than it was. It's been elevated from "kinda lame" to "fine." No, if you really wanna see Ian flex his ability to breathe new life into old Sonic stories, look no further than...

Gerald Robotnik's Journal

Hoo boy.

The story of what happened aboard the ARK has always been... a bit confusing, to say the least. Fans with encyclopedic knowledge of the script for every route of Shadow '05 may disagree, but it's the truth. We've had all the pieces to understand the story for a long time now, but that info was given to us out of order by a pair of unreliable narrators—Gerald, who became a vengeful lunatic shortly before his death, and Shadow, who was subjected to multiple rounds of amnesia and altered memories. Some of the ambiguity left by Sonic Adventure 2 was cleared up in Shadow '05, but that game also retconned in a bunch of new elements to Shadow's backstory (aliens!) that lead to further confusion. Not to mention the fact that that game had multiple routes and only revealed the truth about Shadow if you sat on the ultimate final boss battle for WAY longer than the fight would normally last. Or the fact that Sonic X made its own tweaks in its telling of the story. Or the fact that none of these things ever had the best English translations. I can't blame anyone who hasn't played those games in two decades for not remembering the truth about these characters and getting some details mixed up.

What we needed was something to piece together all of the info we have into one coherent backstory, told in chronological order. And thanks to Shadow Generations, we have that, in the form of an official journal tying together what we knew from Sonic Adventure 2, Shadow '05, and Sonic Battle into the tragic tale of Gerald's rise and fall.

Ian Flynn was the perfect man for the job here as the guy who started his career by tidying up the mess that was the first 159 issues if Archie Sonic. This is what he excels at: taking disparate bits of weird Sonic lore from multiple different sources, boiling them down to their most interesting elements, and connecting it together in a way that will make the audience see the dramatic potential he's always known was there. Rather than feeling like a cynical exercise in franchise building, going back and explaining things that never needed explaining so that people can add more bullet points to the wiki, he puts a new spin on things that retroactively enriches those past stories. The story here means something to the characters involved and gives us a better understanding of them as people, rather than as plot devices to motivate Shadow.

(And, of course, Ian didn't do this journal alone. He wrote the story, but I also have to give a huge shout out to Evan Stanley, who made the final product. All of her handwritten journal entries, sketches, and "photos" included throughout. The physical damage done to the journal over the course of 50 tumultuous years, passing from Gerald to Eggman to a certain special someone at GUN. The way Gerald's handwriting gets less and less legible as his mental state declines. So much love was put into what could have been a mere text dump in a menu, and it really elevates it to the next level. Congrats on officially getting hired by Sega, Evan, you've sure as hell earned it!)

The main idea the journal conveys is that Gerald was under a lot of pressure from a lot of different parties—GUN, the President, his colleagues aboard the ARK, Black Doom, even his own family—and boy did it get to him. The known incidents aboard the ARK mentioned in previous games are put together here to form a story where everything slowly spirals out of control as Gerald keeps compromising his morals to further his research, thinking he'll eventually find some way out of all this because he's a genius. I won't recap that whole story here (if you haven't already played the game and read the journal entries, I would highly recommend at least reading it on the Sonic wiki), but I'd like to highlight my favorite elements of the story, as Ian tells it here.

1) The Eclipse Cannon

Here's something that never quite made sense in Sonic Adventure 2: why does the ARK have a laser that can blow up the Earth built into it? It was supposed to be a peaceful research colony. Sure, Gerald went crazy and swore revenge on the Earth, but, like... when did he have an opportunity to go back up to the ARK and modify it? Did he have someone else do it? How? The ARK was raided by GUN and shut down! And then they arrested him, held him in prison for an unclear period of time, and executed him by firing squad when he was no longer useful! It doesn't add up. Shadow 'the Hedgehog '05 would give its own answer by introducing the Black Arms and saying that the Eclipse Cannon was always supposed to be a secret trump card against the Black Comet. But, like... we know that's kind of a bullshit answer, right? You don't need enough power to blow up a whole planet just to destroy a comet.

Well, the new journal retains what we already knew, but it paints a much more complete picture.

See, long before Gerald ever made a Faustian bargain with Black Doom, he had already made one with an even greater evil: the military. GUN gave Gerald much of the funding for the ARK, Gerald's personal utopian research station in space, but it didn't take long for GUN to start pressuring him to design them weapons. Gerald tried to get GUN off his back by personally contacting the President of the United Federation, and the President gave him an alternative: how about, instead, you just use your genius brain to figure out the secret to immortality for us, so our soldiers can be immortal? Gerald was initially sickened by the notion and found it completely absurd, like chasing a shadow... but given no other option, the sarcastically named Project Shadow soon began in earnest. (Maria would later put a more positive spin on the name after Shadow's awakening, pointing out that a Shadow can show us the direction of the light, like she says in the game itself.)

Of course, this search for the ultimate life form didn't go very well, and without any results on that front GUN kept hounding him for weapons. Gerald would throw them a bone here and there to get them off his back. His research on Chaos resulted in the Artifical Chaos prototypes, which he worried would be used for warfare but could at least theoretically be used for search and rescue missions in floods, in his mind. But that wasn't enough. So he gave them Chaos Drives to power their mechs. And that still wasn't enough. He's got Emerl. He'll give them Emerl. They're not impressed by Emerl. They'll shut the whole ARK down if Gerald doesn't give them something big.

Fine! GUN wants something big? Gerald builds a huge fucking laser cannon into the ARK. However, as a middle finger to GUN, Gerald makes it so powerful that it would destroy the Earth if it was ever fired at any target on its surface. In other words, GUN now has their ultimate weapon of mass destruction, fulfilling his contract, but they can never actually use it. Oh, the delicious irony. (And also Shadow will blow up the Black Comet with it in 50 years yada yada yada.) Is this perhaps extremely shortsighted and naive of Gerald, to believe that such a weapon would never actually be used just because of the risk? Of course. But hey, that's Gerald for you. And I love this as an answer.

(Also, this, uh, kinda echoes something from real life! Remember the bit in Oppenheimer where he says all nuclear war will become unthinkable, and Edward Teller responds "until somebody builds a bigger bomb"? Yeah, Teller went on to conceptualize a superweapon codenamed Project Sundial that would have been able to kill all life on the planet, as the ultimate deterrent for war. This was never made for obvious reasons, but hey, there's a basis for this sort of thinking outside of heightened sci-fi! There's a whole Kurzgesagt video about this if you're interested.)

2) The Biolizard

The Biolizard is, of course, brought up as the initial failed prototype of the ultimate life form, from before Gerald met Black Doom. We don't really learn all that much about it that we didn't already know, but I just love the way it's framed in the story.

As you can see above, we actually get to see a picture of Maria holding up the cute little salamander that would end up mutating into the Biolizard through Gerald's experiments. (Researchers want to figure out how to replicate salamanders' regenerative abilities for humans in real life, too, so this was a natural starting point for the project.) And then, after it grows to a monstrous size and goes out of control, Gerald has to lock it away in an unused sector of the ARK. He needs to keep the poor thing alive for his research into harnessing Chaos Energy, building life support systems directly into it, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Maria what happened. So it just becomes this first dark secret weighing on his conscience. The Biolizard becomes Gerald's Tell-Tale Heart beating beneath the floorboards of the ARK. I love that.

3) Lost Impact was the breaking point for the ARK

Remember the level Lost Impact in Shadow '05? The flashback level on the hero path where Shadow is running around fighting Artificial Chaos enemies on the ARK 50 years ago? Yeah, that wasn't just a random incident. That was important, as we now know due to its placement on the timeline.

See, Emerl's rampage aboard the ARK that was chronicled in Sonic Battle and Dark Beginnings set off a domino effect. Emerl riled up the Artificial Chaos, causing Gerald to lose control of them. They became violent, and so Shadow had to stop them, as depicted in Lost Impact. The thing is, that incident sent an SOS signal to GUN telling them that shit was going down on the ARK. Gerald didsn't fully understand the trouble he was in and assumed that he'd simply be reprimanded by the higher ups, or maybe face legal action. But, well... the next time he heard from GUN, armed troopers were raiding the ARK.

So Lost Impact was the straw that broke the camel's back. I just really like that detail.

4) Maria

And, of course, there's Maria herself. Maria has often been more of a symbol than a character, this perfect embodiment of everything that's good and pure in this world who gets killed to motivate Shadow and Gerald's revenge plots. But I really like the wrinkles this journal adds to her and Gerald's story, and their relationship. This is the most fleshed out they've ever felt.

For one, the journal leans into the idea of Maria's intellectual potential. The rest of the Robotnik family is all geniuses, after all, and she was proving to be a really bright kid. She excelled in her studies on the ARK, and she even helped design Shadow's jet skates and inhibitor rings. When Maria died, the world didn't just lose a symbolic personification of purity. She genuinely could have been a hugely influential scientist who did so much good for the world. That's what Gerald wanted for her. But we'll never know, because GUN killed her.

Speaking of her family, their presence isn't just mentioned for the sake of fleshing out the Robotnik family tree. It's mentioned that as Gerald struggled to find a cure for Maria's illness through his genetic research, he faced mounting pressure from his family. They didn't want Maria to be up on the ARK forever. They wanted Gerald to hurry up and find a damn cure, or otherwise just send her back home to Earth so she could be with her family again. She'd been up on the ARK for so long that Gerald's coworkers started thinking that she had been born up there. Eventually she gains a baby sister on Earth who she's never met. A rift forms between Gerald's two sons, and he's unable to really deal with it because he's so consumed by his work. There's this sense that the family is falling apart, and that everyone is dreading the possibility that Gerald will never find a cure and that Maria will just spend her final years up in space and die far away from her family, because Gerald just couldn't let go. If that happens, it'll break the whole family. But he can't stop now. So he just keeps working. Curing Maria is the only way to win his family back, in his eyes. It can't all be for nothing.

But my favorite detail regarding Maria is this one paragraph:

Maria is growing into a lovely young woman. It breaks my heart that someone as bright and energetic as her is diminished by disease. There are no visible effects, and I've caught my fellow researchers muttering to each other, doubting her illness. It is infuriating. I find all my reason and restraint vanishes when she's slighted.

This is SUCH a great addition to the story! It's always been true that Maria doesn't really seem all that ill, just looking at her in cutscenes. With this one little comment, Ian flips that issue on its head and turns it into a story about invisible disability. She doesn't act like she's in chronic pain, so she must not be, everyone thinks. And this really, really gets to Gerald, as does the pressure from his family. He's dedicating his whole LIFE to saving her, and they think she's faking it?! It's such a small addition, never referenced elsewhere in the journal, but it adds so much flavor to the story, as does the implied family drama. It grounds Gerald and Maria and makes them feel more like real human beings, rather than being pure archetypes. It's just enough info to let my imagination run wild filling in the blanks.

You also get the feeling that Maria being such a walking ray of sunshine was the only real source of joy Gerald had left in his life before Shadow was awakened, and the only thing keeping him from snapping under pressure sooner. All this stuff just keeps piling on, everything's spiraling out of control, but at least Maria is keeping her chin up, right? It makes so much sense that losing her would make him go off the deep end when it's framed like this.

It's just... man, I never thought I'd care so much about Gerald and Maria. But that's the Ian Flynn touch. After years of less than stellar Sonic writing that seemed to be embarrassed of itself, I'm so happy to have new games coming out that fully embrace the history of the series like this, making its world feel so rich and real instead of just serving as an excuse for a string of platforming levels. I don't even like Shadow '05, but I'll be damned if Ian and the rest of Sonic Team didn't make something amazing by "yes, and"-ing Shadow's cringe past here. Sonic has truly reached levels of "we're so back" never thought possible.

[noxitsnox]

hyun-ju as a mother — headcanons

hyun-ju x gn!reader who has a daughter

summary: the relationship between her and her step-daughter.

tags: fluff!!!, hyun-ju is literally the sweetest so there's just this

a/n: reader's daughter is like 6/7-ish. d/n is daughter name 😔. also, idk if kids talk like this, pls spare me. not proof read.

first thing i wanna say is she'd be like the greatest mother, your daughter would love her.

she absolutely wanted to make a good impression on your daughter and when she, a few months into the relationship, first met her the anxiety was eating her up.

the three of you went to a park one afternoon and the kid liked her instantly.

hyun-ju was so sweet and she even helped her catch some little bug to train at home.

from that day she never stopped asking about hyun-ju and whenever you'd go on a date alone with her d/n lived it like the biggest betrayal.

one day, d/n got a fever while at school but you couldn't leave work so you asked hyun-ju to go pick her up- you made her one of the emergency contacts anyway.

formally she didn't live with you, but practically she spent more time at your place than at her own house so she had the key to the front door.

as soon as they got home hyun-ju helped the child change into some warm pjs and then she made her some soup, the same one her mom used to give her when she was sick as a kid.

the rest of the day was spent on the couch, between naps and disney movies.

'the brave' has just ended for the third time in a row. at this point hyun-ju knew all the lines of the movie by heart. "can you turn it on again?" d/n asked, half asleep. hyun-ju giggled reaching for the remote on the coffee table. "again? you must really love it, uh?" d/n nodded. "i like it because merida is like you."

you arrived home not much later only to find them both asleep on the couch, the movie still running on th tv. you smiled while covering them up with a blanket.

this sight of your two girls gave you the courage to ask hyun-ju to come live with you.

from the day hyun-ju moved in her and d/n became inseparable, there was never a moment when the little girl left her alone.

by the second week after the move, hyun-ju knew perfectly the name of all of d/n stuffed animals.

every afternoon there was either a tea party or a fashion show and your daughter would spend at least an hour doing the make up for the both of you before letting you partecipate at either of them.

d/n eventually found out that hyun-ju was in the military and she thought it was so cool.

and so playing soldiers became another typical game at your home.

when there was at school the 'bring your parents to school' day and she asked hyun-ju to go and talk in front of her class.

"you have to come and talk about the military! i need to show them that i have the coolest mom!"

that night hyun-ju cried tears of joy.

and she also confessed to you that she was a little bit afraid of doing too much, that she realized that d/n was not her actual daughter and that she didn't want to make it seem as if she was trying to take your place.

but you were quick to reassure her. telling her that the three of you are a family and that if d/n trust and loves her to the point of viewing her as a mom you couldn't help but feel happy.

[odoraful]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋, 𝐈𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐈𝐓?

content: sylus x gn!reader; reader is a resident of the N109 zone; meeting each other for the first time; suave and lowkey yandere vibes from sylus; 1.5k words

a/n: i know that the moon in N109 is depicted as being red in-game, but i changed it so that that is only a myth :)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Here to watch the moon again?”

A voice called from behind you, somewhat cavalier.

Your posture stiffened, skin prickling with goosebumps. Inwardly you cursed at yourself. How had you not sensed someone approaching? Your instincts couldn’t be that dull. You regained your composure, trying your hardest to compress your surprise. Finding out that one had been caught off guard was a fast way to reveal a weakness in the N109 zone.

You sat on the ledge of a tall skyscraper, feet dangling below. The scenery before you was a complex matrix of buildings compacted together. Telephone poles and wires weaved between tight spaces, lights flickering below. Whether these lines actually functioned well enough to contact others you were doubtful about. Though, it hardly mattered. If you were in need of help in N109, there was usually only one option—fend for yourself. Quickly assessing your situation, you concluded that this person was not here to harm you. If he wanted to, he could have easily pushed you off the side of the building, or struck you in the back before you could even detect his presence.

“Again?” you repeated, steadying your tone. “You imply that you’ve seen me here before, and yet you’ve never bothered to approach me until now.”

You leaned back on your hands, the concrete cold beneath your fingers. All you had to do was put on enough air of confidence, and it would grant you the escape you needed.

“Who are you?”

Turning your head over your shoulder, you looked at your supposed stalker.

You’ve encountered many different people here in the N109 zone, but none as deadly-looking as the man standing merely metres from you. His hair was a cool grey, combed over to reveal his forehead. He dressed in all black, save for the silver accessory pinned between the collars of his dress shirt that glinted in the moonlight. Hypnotising red eyes pierced through you, his gaze crawling under your skin. He seemed to be made of up sharp angles and intimidating arrogance. Unexpectedly, he wore a smile on his face. You immediately quashed down the thought of how attractive he was, his lips curled upwards in amusement.

“Just another enjoyer of the night sky, much like yourself,” he answered.

Your heart traitorously thundered in your ears at the smoothness of his words. Your eyes never left him as he walked closer to you, the heels of his dress shoes clacking against concrete, until he stood near your side.

“This is a spot I also like to frequent, you see.”

This time, you couldn’t hide your shock as he bent down to sit on the ledge as well. Your mouth parted and eyes widened slightly. How could he act so unguarded? He glanced at your expression and laughed, a warmer sound that clashed greatly with his forbidding appearance.

“What is it? Are you so unused to company?” he asked. You couldn’t tell if the innocence in his voice was real or mocking. Was he… teasing you?

“N-not at all,” you replied, more rushed than you intended. Your confidence began to slip away. Everything this man said felt like he was testing you. “You’re welcome to sit wherever you please.”

He bowed his head, exaggerating graciousness. “Your kindness is appreciated.”

The silence that followed was oppressive. You could hardly enjoy the night with a stranger (who hadn’t even given his name to you) sitting beside you. Perhaps this was some bizarre tactic to force information out of you. You would become so uncomfortable with the silence that you would spill every secret you had to him. However, as you snuck glances at him, you found his attention drawn only toward the sky. The light of the moon reflected off his irises, transforming them into a bright crimson. You tried to think of a conversation topic. Anything for you to know more about this strange man.

His question came before yours.

“Why do you come here?” he asked, eyes landing on you once more. “This is one of the tallest buildings in this zone, and the rooftop isn’t accessible from inside.” He lifted a hand to his chin, suddenly in thought. “You would need to climb up to the 40th floor, then scale across to the left hand side of the building towards the abandoned scaffolding. From there, you would be able to reach the broken ladder to get to the roof.”

You bristled uneasily. Surely it was coincidence that he recited your exact route to get here. He must have used the same path as well.

“It’s undoubtedly a dangerous climb, that only a skilled person could pull off. There are much more… safer viewing spots in this place.”

You paused, trying to discern anything in him about his true intentions. Besides for genuine interest in the slight tilt of his head, you could glean no other ulterior motives in this line of questioning. Maybe he really was just another person in the N109 zone trying to survive.

“Perhaps there are.” You replied, looking down at the streets below. After visiting this rooftop every night, you no longer felt any vertigo. “It’s funny. Those people in Linkon always craft such sordid tales about what the sky is like here.”

The words flowed out of you like a stream. You had thought about this a lot in your time here, relaying your musings to the moon.

“That it’s clouded with smog, unbreathable to even traverse outside. Or that it’s always raining, droplets acidic to the skin.”

If you had glanced next to you for even a moment, you would have seen just how captivated the man was by you and your words. As if he had found the most dazzling gemstone buried deep within the ground after hours of digging. But, you continued to study your feet swaying lazily back and forth as you continued,

“But, that’s all nonsense. They’ve never been here before, where the sky is absolutely spotless,” you said, wistfully.

And it was true. Your turned your head up, scanning the moon above. It was simply a regular moon, just like one you’d see in Linkon city. However, being so high up meant there was no obstruction from any other buildings. You could behold its fullness every night, savouring its white glow. It reminded you that there was so much more waiting in the universe for you. Maybe even unexplored places past the Deepspace Tunnel.

You expected some witty reply laced with mystery from your seatmate, but he remained silent. Curiously, you looked over, finding his eyes locked on you.

“Yes, those are simply stories to monger fear.” He sounded almost breathless as he replied.

You blinked at him. Evidently, you had said something that resonated with him. He cleared his throat, shaking off whatever spell had just gripped him.

“And I agree,” he continued, “I believe one can get the most clearest and loveliest views here at night time.”

You noted to yourself that he was certainly not looking at the sky as he said that. His gaze briefly trailed up and down your body. You drew in a breath, praying that your cheeks weren’t flushed as crimson as his eyes. Heat crawled up your face at the smirk on his lips. The man seemed content to reveal that ulterior motive to you quite freely.

Something fluttered towards the two of you, and a crow flew down to the man’s shoulder, cawing loudly. You jumped at the peculiar sight. The man clenched his jaw, seeming to be genuinely irritated by the interruption, but not at all bewildered by the large bird at his shoulder. It turned its head and cocked it to the side, seeming to analyse you.

“Unfortunately, my time here is up,” he sighed, pulling his feet off from the ledge and standing again.

To your surprise, your spirits deflated. There were so many things you wanted to know about this silver-haired man, and you didn’t know when you would meet him next.

“I will see you tomorrow night to continue this conversation,” he added, adjusting the coat around his shoulder.

You cursed internally again. Had it been so plain on your face that you wanted to meet him again? You pursed your lips.

“And what makes you so sure I’ll come back here tomorrow?”

Another laugh erupted from him. He had to restrain himself from commenting on how cute you looked right now.

“Because I’m quite good at reading people,” he instead said.

It was truly a shame he had to leave so soon. This interaction he had carefully crafted had begun so well. The crow cawed again, directly into his ear. Quiet down, I know I have business to attend to, he thought, scratching his finger against its feathered head to pacify the bird.

“Ah I almost forgot.”

You craned your head upwards at him standing beside you. Your expectant, doe eyes nearly convinced him to ignore all his duties and sit back down with you.

He tipped his head down. Greeting you once again, this time with an appropriate introduction.

“You can call me Sylus.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[mintmatcha]

OMG MINT please continue bc kiri saying again … was he picking up the pieces before w reader ??

cw: Reader is a high school in this part, reader is said to not be conventionally attractive.

Kirishima remembers the first time Sero ever saw you.

He's fumbling with his key ring in the most obvious way he can, letting it swing and jingle around his fingers.

"My parent's won't be back until late tonight, so we can do whatever." Kirishima isn't one to brag, but there's still something cool about being a latchkey kid. He doesn't have Bakugo's big house or all of Denki's gaming systems, but he's got the coolest hang out spot because he has all the privacy they could ever need.

"You bozos should actually study this time-" Bakugo says, slinging his backpack across his shoulders.

Denki groans. "You're so lame-"

"Your grades are lame!"

Kirishima unlocks the door to the apartment when another door across the hall opens. He doesn't turn at first, thinking it's just Mr. Yagami leaving for the night shift-

"Eijiro-"

Kirishima turns at the sound of your voice. Catty corner from him, you're halfway out of your apartment door, still dressed in your wrinkled school uniform. The smile you flash him is timid, mostly covered up the doorframe.

"Hold on, guys."

He walks over to you with a little wave and you produce a familiar set of containers, perfectly cleaned and polished, just like always.

"Tell your mom thank you," you mumble, adjusting your glasses as you speak. Kirishima thinks it's weird that you're being so quiet today, but then your eyes flicker to the group behind him. School's hard for you, he thinks, the other kids aren't very nice to you most of the time. At least, that's what his mom says when you aren't around.

"It was really good, thank you."

"Yeah, don't mention it," Kirishima points back to his gaggle of boys. "These are my friends from school, by the way. Bakugo, Denki, and the tall one's Sero. They're all really cool."

Your face goes weird when he says Sero's name. Not sour or stressed or something he knows, just... funny. Like you've swallowed a lemon whole.

"I'm the only cool one here," Bakugo says.

"Aw, don't listen to this big grump-" Sero throws an arm around Bakugo. "We're pretty okay."

"Hi." With a little wave, you duck back inside your place and let the door close. Kirishima starts to go back to his friends, but for Sero to stop him.

"So, who was that?" Sero asks, a bit too interested for Kirishima's liking. Bakugo bumps his shoulder into the dark haired boy, then shoves his full body weight. Even when Sero stumbles, he keeps looking.

"She's cool, just super shy. My mom gives her food sometimes." He shakes the Tupperware for effect. "She lives by herself because her school's around here."

"Ask her to hang out with us," Sero says.

Denki groans again. "Why would we want some weirdo girl-?"

Sero's already slunk across the hall. Bakugo and Denki share a look and roll their eyes; last summer's growth spurt didn't only give Sero a couple extra inches of height-- it gave him too much confidence and too strong of an interest in girls. Denki could kind of relate, minus the confidence. Thankfully, Bakugo didn't seem to care about women at all.

(Kirishima was thankful for that.)

The blondes both go inside the apartment when Kirishina opens the door, but Sero has already knocked and peeled you out of your shell.

"Hey, we were just thinking-"

That funny look comes over you again- a strained, sloppy smile, own that-

It clicks in Kirishima's head the second Sero leans against the doorframe, one arm extended above his head. You think he's cute.

You think he's very cute.

Sero seems to know it, too.

"I- uh- I-" You're fumbling each word. "I have cram school-"

"Aww-" He runs a hand through his hair with a cool little smile. "What a bummer."

Kirishima's stomach twists at bit, mostly on instinct. He doesn't have strong feelings towards you or anything, but he suddenly feels a surge of protectiveness, like an older sibling watching the younger get whisked away.

You're not even cute, Kirishima thinks, not in the ways that Sero usually goes for. He usually goes for girls without glasses or braces, the types that win beauty pageants and don't have stutters-

Flirting with you just seems... cruel in comparison. It's a game he knows he can win.

[writerunnamed]

note: This is something I've wanted to write for a while but I am well aware that not everyone will be into it. There are a few stories I want to tell that aren't the norm so I decided to start this nameless blog to tell them. I am not tagging anyone, if you find it then you find it. xo Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, Joel spits on the 😸, boobie play, really inappropriate dirty talk, an unused sex toy [will make an appearance in another chapter], female masturbation, daddy kink, unfit parent) 5.6k word count masterlist • series masterlist • part 2

He takes up so much space, and it wasn’t just physically. He took up space emotionally, mentally. Mentally most of all. Your thoughts always drifted back to him. Cyclical. An elliptical pattern making him the top of every list you’d go through in your head. He seemed to know it too, in a stoic, quiet, largely unsettling way. Older, attractive men tended to do that. 

It started during that in-between time, when summer, losing your job, and having to move back home pushed you to figure out what the fuck you actually wanted to do with your life seemed to come together like the planets aligning. The precipice of a turning point, a ticking clock counting down the days until your childhood bedroom would be turned into a gym, or an office, or a guest bedroom. The lukewarm welcome from your mother would ice over and you’d really have to get your shit together. 

Your mother was what people who didn’t know her would call ‘a free spirit’, what you called her, was a fucking mess. 

Your earliest memories consist of having to remind her to buy milk or to pay the bill because the electricity had turned off while watching cartoons in front of the tiny, living room tv. You’d had to remind her, in not so many words, that she was the mother, and you were the child. 

To your friends, she was the cool mom. The party mom. Your house was the place to be because she didn’t ask questions, she left her cigarettes unattended and didn’t mind if a few went missing. She kept the bar cart stocked, even if there was nothing but flies in the cupboard and nothing but half-empty condiment bottles in the fridge. Your friends loved it. 

She flirted with the boys your age, she gave sex tips to the girls. 

You smiled when they congratulated you on having the cool mom, and when they all went home, you retreated and pretended to be happy. 

Joel settled her down. Met her in a bar and moved in quick. He came into the picture when you were fifteen and you were almost sure he’d be just like the rest of the lovers she’d taken over the years. You’d given the whole thing six months. Half a year for him to see what a fucking disaster she was. Six months to be a fucking creep, to cheat or get cheated on. 

The only differences you could clock at first were that he was self-employed, and marginally better looking than his predecessors.

He was firmer though, less malleable than the others she’d brought around, he seemed immune to her charms and that only inflamed her. It made her desperate for his approval and his attention. She would throw a tantrum, or play one of her mind games but he’d never rise to her bait. He was patient for the most part, until he hit his breaking point and his temper reared its head. A temper only she seemed to bring out in him. 

To you, it was pathetic. 

He didn’t try with you though, there was no flattery or strong hand, only a silent respect. In a sense, he treated you as the adult, and her as the child. It worked for you, if he’d expected you to call him dad he would have been laughed at mercilessly and he seemed to know this. 

The disturbing part was his respect and his healthy avoidance of you worked its own kind of magic. It made him an enigma, made you curious as to what he got out of the whole thing. A home, sure. A woman who was obsessed with him, yes. Sex–yes. You heard it enough for it to turn your stomach. By the sounds of it, he knew what he was doing.

The thought sickened the healthy part of your brain. The other part though, the part flooding your body with hormones, making it come to life with curiously intense sexual feelings, that part wanted to know what it was he was so good at. How could he pull those sounds out of anyone? It was easier to imagine him with some faceless woman. 

It was shameful to imagine yourself. 

The thought–although enough to fuel a desperate journey of self-exploration–always filled you with an insurmountable guilt. 

For those first few years you could barely look at him. Your mother took it as a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. That only aggravated you more. She never asked questions, never dug to see what the cause of your obvious distaste for her partner was about and so again, you retreated. He, however, kept to the outs of your path. He followed your lead, he let you control any and every part of all of your interactions. He didn’t ask questions. He kept the lights on. He kept the fridge full. 

He burrowed his way in, whether you liked it or not. 

When you turned eighteen, you moved out. He helped, did his ‘fatherly’ duties and moved you into the apartment, he urged your mother to take you on an extensive grocery trip, spoke to your landlord about the safety of the building. You supposed you should have been grateful, you should have said thank you, given him some sort of acknowledgement that you appreciated his help but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you said your mumbling goodbyes, and promptly closed the door on them. Neither of them complained. 

The euphoria of venturing out on your own had lost its shine depressingly quick. A string of chronically unserious boyfriends came and went, the rent climbed higher than you could keep up with, and while already living paycheck to paycheck, you lost your job. Your cellphone had taken the brunt of your frustration at having to call your mother, begging her to let you come back home while you got back on your feet a little more than two years after you’d left. 

Your teeth gnawed at your lips, your fingernails dug into the skin around your cuticles in the attempt to keep your voice sweet and pleading, in the end it was his voice that you’d heard in the background, telling–no, commanding her to say yes. That he would be your champion twisted at your insides. Maybe a small, healthy part of you hoped he’d put up a fight, tell you that you were too old to be coming back home and that you had to figure it out on your own like an adult. 

A healthy part of you hoped that he’d save you again, only from yourself. Hanging up with a heavy, resigned sigh, you set about starting the trek home, ignoring the swirling mess of annoyance, confusion, and perverse glee in your stomach. 

-

The first few days were spent in a depressive episode, a seemingly inescapable loop of sleeping in late, leaving your room only when the house was empty to raid the kitchen for something to eat, scrolling mindlessly–blindly–on your phone and then staying up way too late only to do it all over again. 

They didn’t bother you, but if the annoyed sighs and narrowed eyes from your mother were anything to go by, the talk was coming soon. After the third day of the cycle, you circumvent it and wake up early-ish to shower and dress in something other than ratty old sweats long forgotten by an ex you couldn’t quite remember. 

You came down to find Joel sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes tracked the lines of you, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. 

Your heart leapt. He should have been at work by now. 

“Good morning.” It came out croaky, your voice almost reluctant to come out. 

“Mornin’.” His hair was slicked back, the gray almost sparkling in the golden light. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His eyes were so intense, you found yourself stuck in place, like a deer in headlights and that ever present, deep-seeded anger reared its head. It was irrational that he should frustrate you so much with his calm presence. 

“Coffee’s fresh, if you want some.” He jut his chin out to the pot, lowering his eyes to his paper once more. Once his gaze had shifted, you found you could breathe again. You mumbled a thanks and moved to pour yourself a cup, thankful, if unsure why, to focus on something concrete instead of abstract self-reflection.

“Your mama’s gon’ be late tonight. I thought I could pick up a pizza on the way home.” He says it offhand and again, your heart races. 

“Whatever.” You scrunch your face up in annoyance, it sounded like such a bullshit, teen response. He doesn’t comment on it, and that somehow makes it worse. You beat yourself about it as you root around in the fridge for the milk. The cereal you liked was in the top cupboard, and you’re not quite tall enough to reach it. 

You heard his chair scoot back and then suddenly he’s there, beside you, pressed up tight. You follow the long line of his throat as he stares up, reaching the box with ease while one big, warm hand lands on your lower back. He smells like the laundry detergent your mother insists on buying mixed with something else. Manly, smoky, with coffee laced through. Your cunt clenches nonconsensually as he stands there and stares down at you, his whole front pressed against your side, his hand still holding your lower back. Your mouth hangs open, stupidly, and he raises an eyebrow again forcing something to kickstart deep in your gut. 

“You okay there babygirl?” The endearment feels unwholesome.

It triggers something strange, strengthening the underlying conflict for him. There’s a lilt in his tone you don’t like, maybe because deep down you like it too much. Maybe you don’t want to admit that, or analyze anything about what the fuck is happening in your body. In your psyche. 

“Yeah.” You step out of his bubble, barely managing not to trip over yourself in your haste to get away and put a healthy distance between you. 

“Yes. Thank you.” You take a deep breath, pressing your lips together tight in what you hope to God is a neutral expression. 

He lets out a bemused huff through his nose, a mischief in his eyes shining out at you that you’ve never seen directed at you. You’ve seen it used on your mom. You’ve seen her go giggly and flirty whenever he looked at her like that. A half-formed escape plan starts to form but he saves you from the need, he puts his things in the dishwasher, and nods his head in goodbye. 

You practically hold your breath until you hear his truck rumble out of the driveway, and down the street. 

-

You manage to avoid him for a few days, staying out late catching up with friends, or feigning a need for rest. You’ve convinced your mother that your days are now spent job hunting, and for the most part they are. You leave in the morning, avoiding any and all contact and you get home late, creeping up the stairs much like you did in your teens even though you’d really never needed to. Your mother never enforced a curfew, and when Joel joined the picture, he didn’t pry. 

The luck didn’t last though, you got over-confident. He was sprawled out on the sofa, up uncharacteristically late one night when you padded through the house. 

“You’re up late.” You quickly check the accusatory tone, “Don’t you have to get up early?” Better, it comes out more concerned than annoyed and he nods. He wore a threadbare t-shirt, the fabric of it having been through the wash too many times to keep its shape. Light, gray sweats were stretched almost obscenely tight over his spread thighs, pooling at his crotch from being shoved up by the couch. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Come sit, we can watch some tv.” He pats the seat next to him and despite the deep desire to retreat into the Joel-free haven of your bedroom, you cannot seem to disobey him. 

You settle beside him on the couch, a little further away than was necessary. He chuckles softly. 

“I ain’t gonna bite you, girl. Not unless you ask nicely.” 

You pretend you don’t hear it, choosing instead to compartmentalize whatever game he’s playing and stare at the screen. He flips through the channels, settling on one thing for a few minutes before moving to something else until he finds a movie that’s already close to midway. There’s an electricity in the air, something about him galvanizing the space between you, charging it enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end. You frown to yourself, barely paying attention while fighting an increasingly confusing mental battle. Why is it so hard to be around him? Why does he inspire such scorn? Is it scorn at all?

You rub at your eyes, scrubbing your hands down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe the slate clean. 

He’s just a man, a man your mother had chosen and for better or worse they seem to work. She is happy with him and he is seemingly happy with her, why then is it so hard to accept him for what he is? Something slithers around in your brain, something that laughs darkly, something pulsing through the network of thoughts and ideas that threatens to crack open your subconscious and throw it right in your face. 

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’?” You pull your hands away from your face to see a very explicit scene playing out on the screen. Heat floods every inch of your body. 

“Almost looks like she’s enjoyin’ herself.” He leaves it on, and you feel stuck, your body betraying you yet again to see the way the woman on screen moans wantonly while under a very handsome man. You let out a non-committal sound, teetering on the edge of madness. You scold yourself, you are an adult, an adult that has had sex before and this isn’t even real. 

“Looks like fake bullshit to me.” The strength in your voice lends credence to the illusion that you aren’t affected. He laughs, calm and completely at ease and that only pulls the anger to the forefront again. 

“They can’t show the real stuff on these channels. If it were real, he’d be doin’ what she needs.” 

“And what’s that?” It comes out before you can stop it. 

“Well,” He smiles to himself, winning a duel you hadn’t even known you were fighting. 

“If it were real, he’d be pressin’ on her clit, he’d be makin’ sure she felt every inch of him and make her take his cock like a good girl.” You let out a heavy breath, half shocked, half grateful it wasn’t a whimper. 

Warning bells go off in your head, just as a heartbeat starts in your cunt because you can see it. You can see him. His face twisted up in pleasure but cocky, his hips moving, his thumb dipped into your mouth and then swirling around your clit. He smiles at catching you looking at his hands and you want to yell at him. You want to smack him across the face and kick him in the balls for saying something like that to you, his partner's daughter, but you don’t. 

Your body almost catapults you out of your seat. Barely unintelligible words come out, something about needing sleep, about being tired and then you hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell. 

The shower was cold enough to make your teeth chatter, but it did nothing to cool the heat blooming in your core and it was with a terrifying desperation that you ground against your fingers. The slick pooling at the mouth of your pussy was enough to feel even with the water washing everything away except your shame. 

You bit your tongue to keep from moaning out the taboo and entirely inappropriate name you were dying to say out loud. His firm thighs spread on that couch filled your mind, the calloused, work-roughened hands you could practically feel on your hips, on your thighs. You could feel them holding and spreading your legs open so he could make you make those same noises you’d heard over the years. Make you take it like a good girl, his good girl. 

You came with a shudder, sagging against the chilly tile. You warmed the water with a sigh, disappointed and ashamed with yourself, trying, and failing, to put the whole thing out of your mind. 

-

You doubled down on avoiding him after that. 

Your mother worked most of the time but when she was home, things were easier. He reverted to the healthy avoidance, the proverbial disinterest that she didn’t seem to have a problem with. You still heard them some nights, the bed creaking, throaty cries, deep grunts but now they haunted you in a different way. Now you heard his words on that couch and couldn’t help but picture all manner of unsavory things that both disgusted and thrilled you. 

Being unemployed didn’t help. There was nothing to keep you out of the house most of the day, and there were only so many places that would accept you looking for a job in person. 

There was only so much time you could spend with friends too, they had their own lives and jobs and relationships. Too busy to save you from unwanted free time. 

Old habits resurface, and you retreat within yourself while pushing yourself harder. A job would fix things enough to help, you could save up enough money to leave for good and take yourself out of the equation. 

-

The powers that be momentarily take pity on you, and after what seems like a lifetime's worth of job hunting you blessedly get a call back. It’s a part time job, but at this point beggars can’t exactly be choosers. It’s a steady, if insufficient source of income that hadn’t been available to you before. Determined, you buckle down, you channel every guidance counselor you’ve ever had and ace the fuck out of that interview.

It’s not taxing work, but you put your head down and focus with the hope that if you worked hard enough, if you made a good enough impression, made yourself indispensable they’d throw you enough shifts to make up a full time job. 

It helps. Time spent away from the house, from your mothers dried up welcome, from Joel altogether genuinely helps. You feel a bit lighter, less guilty, less prone to imagine the unimaginable. You find comfort in the absence of self-imposed temptation. There is peace in the mindless work, in the life outside of the house that no longer feels like a home. 

It's a double edged sword though, because at the end of every shift, the luck–the peace–runs out. If being at work and out of the house is a respite, returning home only thickens the tension. Time spent outside the house only sharpens the discomfort, clarifies the glaring wrongness of it all when you enter it at the end of the day. What it all is, you won’t name. That way madness lies. Issue is, with every interaction, with every chance encounter in the hallway, or living room, every second spent with him in the kitchen watching his lips touch the rim of his mug the thing inside grows. Parts of him fill the corners of your mind. The curve of his shoulders filling out the flannel shirts he favors. The fullness of his bottom lip when he purses them, something he does while squinting at the paper that you’re almost sure he isn’t aware of. His neck, his hands, the dimple in his cheek when he laughs at something really funny. 

These things jump out, innocent as they may be, but other not so innocent things start to creep in. The bulge in his jeans is a mental mine, it lies in wait and every so often when you think you’ve avoided it, it detonates and you catch yourself staring, both ashamed and so inappropriately curious it eats away at you like acid. 

What you needed was something to fill the emptiness, both emotionally and physically. So you did what any modern, adult woman would do; you bought a sex toy. 

Nothing too crazy, or expensive. After perusing the site for a while you finally settled on a plain, non-threatening dildo. Nothing too big, nothing noisy, just something to be able to focus on, something to use while imagining someone giving you what you need. You ignored that dark thing inside that hissed his name, shooed it away and ordered the package for express delivery. With your mom constantly working, and Joel keeping to himself you figured it wouldn’t be an issue. Neither of them would question a package addressed to you. 

You still aren’t sure whether or not you’d do it all over again had you known the Pandora’s box that little package would open. 

You all but rushed home after work. All day, you’d imagined the relief that toy would bring. You imagined yourself using it in the shower, steam swirling as you took your pleasure. You imagined yourself laying in bed in the safety of the dark, setting a towel down on your chair and riding it to your heart's content. 

Joel’s truck is in the driveway when you pull in, but it’s secondary to the excitement at the chance to sequester yourself with your new best friend and so when you walk into the house, you don’t give him much attention. Until he opens his mouth. 

“You got a package today babygirl. I put it on your bed.” He sits on his spot on the sofa, a funny little smile on his face. A bad feeling swells in your chest, and you look up the stairs before meeting his eyes again. 

“Thanks.” You drop your bag on the little bench near the front door, trying, and failing to keep the nervous feeling out of your voice. He nods, and you make your way up, stopping yourself from taking the stairs two at a time. 

Ice flows through your veins when you see the package is open. 

He’d opened your package, he knew what you’d bought. 

Blood pounds in your ears as you stand there, limbs cold and numb at the realization that he saw it. He saw it. He opened it, and he placed it here, on the very place you fantasized about using it. Sweat beaded on your brow, the bottom of your stomach fell out of your ass as you stood there, barely feeling the soft, worn carpet under your feet. 

“Little small, f’you ask me.” His voice at the mouth of your room made your head twist fast enough to hurt your neck. You hadn’t heard him follow you up the stairs, hadn’t heard him open your door and lean against the frame, arms crossed in haughty amusement. 

“Why would you open my package?” You clutched at it, as though he could forget what he’d seen if you held it tightly enough. 

“I didn’t open it on purpose, I’m expectin’ somethin’ and I didn’t read the name.” He pushes away from the door frame, making his way closer and it’s like the air thins as the space between you shrinks.

“I mean, I could tell you been frustrated, but this doesn’t seem like it’s gon’ help much.” He reaches out, and takes the package from you. You watch him do it, watch him, frozen as he plucks it from your hands and takes the toy out. 

“This all you can take?” He holds it, contemptuously–pityingly. 

You wanted to snatch it out of his hands, the dimming voice of reason urges you to push him out of your room and remind him that he needs to keep a healthy distance but you say nothing, you stand there, and watch him. He puts it all down on your dresser, before stepping a little closer, close enough for you to have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes. 

“No boyfriends around to give you what you want?” His hand comes up, the tips of his fingers sliding across the apple of your cheek, slipping down until his thumb pressed against the cushion of your bottom lip. 

“No one around to give you what you obviously need?” He steps a little closer, until your bodies meet. This is wrong, your mind screams it but your body is frozen under his eyes, under his touch. That part, the frozen part is cheering, it’s running victory laps as it floods your cunt with slick in preparation for something unholy. 

That same, writhing, traitorous thing whispers that this is your chance, the house is empty and your body obeys. You look your fill, you take in the curve of his nose and the furrow in his brow. His eyes are black as a crow's wing, lust-blown and completely focused on your parted lips and your shallow panting. 

Adrenaline spikes and you do something you cannot take back. You rise on your tip-toes and press your mouth to his. 

He hums into it, smiling and once again you get that feeling that you’d made the exact move he’d expected you to. A vague, but fleeting inkling that you were just a pawn on his chessboard. 

At any other time you would have stepped away and repented, ate yourself alive with guilt but his hands pulled you closer, his tongue swiped at the seam of your mouth and you opened up for him. That only made it all the more real, the taste of his tongue in your mouth, feeling his hands lower to hold onto your ass. 

The rational part of you shrinks down to nothing, and that other part, the wrong part–it swells and preens under his hands. He pulls away, and embarrassingly, you chase his mouth in a daze. 

“Oh honey, you’re just dyin’ for it aren’t you?” He herds you towards your tiny bed, the twin mattress that has been the stage for every taboo fantasy about this man, your stepfather. You shoo the word away with a shiver. 

“It’s wrong-” You almost whisper, but you don’t push him away, you let him lay you down in that bed and he laughs. 

“It is, isn't it?” He pulls at the hem of your shirt, you raise your arms for him and the picture of it is wrong, daddy taking off your clothes. The thought, the word,  should disgust you but it only pulls your hands to him. You join in, and pull his shirt up and off, biting your lip at the broadness of him. You take in each freckle, the sprinkling of hair on his chest, the dip of his throat calling out for your tongue like a siren. 

He presses his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth obscenely. Unseemly. 

“You been wantin’ this for a long time, haven’t you babygirl?” He pulls your bra off, and the shock of cold air hardens your nipples. He bites his lip to see it, unable to stop himself from flattening his tongue against a hardened bud. A sound you’ve never let yourself make out loud in this room fills the space between you and that slithering thing luxuriates. 

He moves, languidly, unhurried to the other breast and holds the plump of it in his big hand and sucks at the second bud, sucks as much of the peak as he can into his mouth, breathing through his nose while you slowly spiral into madness.

When he lets go, he presses a kiss to your nipple and his facial hair tickles your skin. 

He pulls your leggings off along with your underwear in one go and the reality of it all hits you when the air hits your soaked core. That’s when the urge to put a stop to it is the clearest, when he kneels between your legs and spreads them wide, stares at the place where he’s already filled a million times in your mind. The place that’s drenched at the mere thought of him. 

“Joel-” You start, but he pushes your legs up, folding you and then he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth slowly, aiming it, a bullseye right on the lips of your cunt. It’s too much, too filthy and you let out a whimper. 

“I think you wanna call me somethin’ else right now.” He undoes his belt and his jeans, keeping his eyes on where his saliva slides down over the open mouth of your cunt, down towards your asshole. He pulls his cock out and part of you shatters. Your eyes flit to the toy sitting on your dresser, your eyes flit to the open door of your bedroom. 

“Don’t worry, your mama ain’t gonna be home for a while.” He smiles, conspiratorially. It's too real, it’s too hypnotic, seeing him there with his cock in his hand while your legs already ache from holding them up and open. He slides the blunt end of it through the mess he’s caused, through his spit and he groans at the sight of it. 

Your heart races so hard to feel him there, that you see the pulse of it in your vision. 

“Deep breath baby.” he warns before slipping inside the tight fist of your pussy, the size of him making you gasp. This is it, there’s no coming back from this and right now, with him seated deep, his groin pressed up tight and the tip of his cock kissing your womb you cannot even think of why you’d ever care.

This is where he's meant to be. This is where you need him. 

“Oh baby, that’s so good huh?” He thrusts shallowly, pulling out a little more than halfway before shoving his hips forward again. You don’t really know how to form words, you don’t know how to take in what’s happening. This is Joel, your step-dad, fucking you in the bed you grew up in. One hand sits heavy on your shin, holding it, the other slides up and holds onto your breast. 

“Look how fuckin’ wet this little pussy is for me,” he moans the words, “you like daddy fuckin’ you?” He thrusts harder and you moan despite the word hitting you in the stomach like a big drop on a rollercoaster. He shouldn’t say that, shouldn’t call himself that, not now. 

“No-” it doesn’t come out like you mean it to, it sounds wrong, like a caress. 

“No? But I think you do-” He leans forward, keeping his pace while pressing his chest to yours, his mouth all but lining up and despite your bullshit protest, you hitch your knees high on his ribs to make room because if he stopped you’d probably die. 

“I think you want me to be your daddy, don’t you baby, it’s okay, I want to be.” He speeds up and the sounds between your legs are so wet, so filthy. 

“You can say it, I want you to say it.” He holds himself up, his elbows caging in your skull and before you can complain or moan or cry he sticks his tongue down your throat again. Your hands finally join the fray and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tight to you. 

“Come on baby, say it for me, tell me how good daddy fucks you.” You moan, closing your eyes while your cunt floods him with wave after wave of slick, enough to drip down your ass and onto your bed, down his balls. Enough for it to soak the curls at the base of him. 

“Look at me when I’m fuckin’ you honey.” His hips speed up and it's hard now, his thrusts making your bounce, hitting a part of you that toy would never touch in a million years. 

You open your eyes, and look at him above you, sweat beading on his hairline. Never has he looked more fucking appealing than he does right then. The word is there, in your mouth and you know it’ll taste sweeter than anything in this world. 

The wrong thing wins.  

“Yes daddy.” You moan it, and the shameful thing sets off fireworks in your being, he smiles, and tucks his head into the damp crook of your neck, feeding his lovely filth right into your ear. 

“That’s my babygirl, that’s it, fuck baby you take it better than your mama.” Something inside recoils at that, but something else, another facet of that fucked up thing inside rejoices.

“Let me hear you say it again, say it when you come.” He licks a hot stripe up your neck. His words are a filthy groan, something to tuck away for later.

He reaches down, pressing his thumb to your clit just like he said on that couch and you keen, the slip and the pressure enough to toss you over the edge with an almost painfully intense orgasm. 

“I’m coming, daddy.” It’s a shuddering whisper as your cunt clenches around him. 

He moves quickly, kneeling between your legs to pull out and then he’s stroking himself over your cunt. It’s still pulsing when he paints it in his come. You catch your breath as he tugs at himself a few more times, milking himself against you with a disturbingly familiar groan. 

The fog clears altogether too quickly. The lights are too bright, you’re naked, and he’s still got his jeans around his thighs while the guilt creeps into your veins, replacing the euphoria. 

What have I done? What have you made me do?

[cheeseceli]

Kisses marks on their skzoo

Pairing: Ot8 skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, reaction

Request: how would BF!SKZ react to seeing a kiss mark on their SKZoo?

Warnings: hyunjin and Felix can be read as low-key suggestive but it wasn't the intention? Reader gets teased in most of those

A/n: this picture of Lee know😭😭 btw I have a feeling that some things here are extremely cringe or extremely good I'm so so sorry in advance | taglist: @yuyubeans

Bang Chan

Oh my God

I hope you're ready to be teased for months

I can see him smirking at the moment he sees wolfchan with a kiss mark on its forehead

Will laugh a little bit because he actually thinks you're the cutest for that

Will come to you and suddenly wrap you in a back hug and kiss your shoulder with little to no explanation

"Y'know, next time you miss me you can just come to me and kiss me in person."

Lee Know

Contrary to popular belief, I think he'd be the shy one here lmao

He has no idea on how he should react

Just laughs a bit with that panic voice he has and hopes you won't come for him

If that happens more than once though, he won't be under the initial shock anymore

So now you can prepare yourself for all the teasing

"I need to level up my boyfriend game if you preferred to kiss a plushie over me twice now."

Changbin

Side eyes the dwaekki

Demand kisses immediately

Why on earth are you kissing a plushie when you literally have a boyfriend next to you??

Who is always more than willing to kiss you any time??

The audacity I swear

"I don't care if it looked cute, you could've been kissing me all this time instead."

Hyunjin

He's not exactly teasing

He's kinda lightly joking around

At first he was being dramatic about how you don't love him anymore and that's why you are replacing him with jinniret

But once you start to get flustered he switches up

Chuckles about how he finds you lovely

"You can make up by kissing me with that same lipstick of yours, what you think?"

Han

The only scenario you have some sort of advantage

Because when I tell you that he's stressing it's because he IS

You ask him why he's acting all weird and then he's stuttering about how everything is alright

Will try to play it cool so you don't notice the reason behind all of this is his skzoo having a very red kiss mark on its cheek

"Kiss? What do you mean kiss? I have no idea what you're talking about. Pay attention to the movie Y/n."

Felix

Lmao

I believe this is the worst case

He'd have no mercy upon you

But he wouldn't be joking around or trying to tease you

He would be flustering you

Will kiss you until he takes your breath away and then will proceed to move his kisses to your neck

"What is wrong? I thought you wanted kisses?"

Seungmin

You've created a monster

Lmao he will never shut up about this

Deep down he thought it was cute how you liked him that much

But he really didn't want to lose the opportunity to mess up with you (affectionately)

"Minnie, I miss you. Don't you wanna come over?"

"Is the skzoo not doing justice to me?"

"Suddenly I don't miss you anymore."

I.N

Now this one is kinda funny

He will tease you so much about this

But it's so subtle that you don't even know what he's talking about

He seems to be pretty entertained though

"Oh it seems that you didn't miss me that much this time." - he says a few days later, while he holds the now clean skzoo in his hands and you have no idea why he's laughing so much.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!!

[marauder-misprint]

Regulus' Crush

Regulus Black x fem!Slytherin!reader (Sirius Black x reader is endgame)

series masterlist

4k words

cw: swearing, fluff, drinking, Y/N

Regulus knocked on Sirius’s door, knowing he would be in there. There was no answer. He knocked again. Silence. He gave the knock one more try, louder this time. 

“Sirius, I know you’re in there,” he called through the door. “Can I… Can I talk to you?”

More silence. But then Regulus heard the thump of Sirius’s feet as he slid off his bed. There were some muffled grumbles before he unlocked the door. 

“What’s up, Reg?” 

“Those are some nice posters you have on your wall,” he said, looking past his brother to the girls in swimsuits or clad in leather, leaning over motorcycles. 

“I’ve had ‘em up…” Sirius gave his brother a look. “You wanted to talk about my posters?”

“Ah, no,” he chuckled. “I was just wondering if you knew, possibly, how to ask out a girl?”

Sirius laughed. Regulus felt his face turn pink. It had been a while since his brother had laughed joyfully in their house. It had taken him all summer to work up the courage to ask Sirius about this and that was his response. He must’ve been as much as an embarrassment of a brother to him as Sirius was to the family as a whole. 

“It’s stupid, I know. I’ll leave you alone.”

Regulus turned to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Come in, doofus.”

He turned around and Sirius was already halfway back to his bed. Regulus closed the bedroom door behind him and sat in the chair at Sirius’s desk. 

“Hogwarts girl, I’m assuming?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah. Um, she’s in your year. She’s really cool.”

He laughed again. “Sorry, I just wouldn’t describe girls I ask out as ‘cool.’ Nothing wrong with it. Just… not me.” He paused. “So, Reg, you like ‘em older?”

“It’s only one year!” he defended quickly, making Sirius laugh louder.

“Okay, so you like her! No need to get so worked up… Are you two friends? Do you talk? Obviously you don’t have classes together.”

“We’ve talked a few times. Study hall, Common Room, Great Hall. Quidditch games! When I’m not playing. She doesn’t know it all that well and asks a lot of questions despite being at like every game.”

“So she might refer to you as a friend. How come you’re the one answering her quidditch questions?”

“I just happen to be next to her during games.”

Sirius smiled at his brother, holding in a laugh.

“You sly dog.”

“Don’t laugh again!” Regulus pleaded. “How do I ask her out?”

“Well, being next to her at quidditch games might be a start for this. Destinations are key. You could go to a game together.”

“Together…” he repeated.

“Yes, together. Quidditch games are good. Low stress. People are around you but you hang out before or after. More of a testing the waters type of thing.”

Regulus watched his brother as he reclined more.

“A next move would be a Hogsmeade weekend. Can be a group or solo thing.Those usually turn out with following her into all of her favorite shops. Be prepared to be bored. And, if you get this far, you start going with her to all the quidditch games. She’ll expect you to be around more, but you should want to be there. You’ll get to know all her friends. And it’s more ideal if you don’t kiss them.”

“Sirius,” Regulus interrupted,making a face. “You didn’t.”

“Went to Hogsmeade with MacDonald and she caught me kissing McKinnon that night after dinner.”

“I need you to circle back. How do I do the actual asking?”

“What do you mean?”

“What words do I use?”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“That seems… too formal? I don’t think she’s that formal. She might laugh at me if I ask that way.”

“Hmm, they usually just say yes if I ask them… Okay, how about ‘Oh fair maiden, dost thou wish to bless mine with thoust company when the twilight star is in the sky?’”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just being mean.”

“Hey, we should go to the quidditch game together.”

“Oh.”

“Or, hey, I was thinking we could go to the game together. What do you think?”

“OH.”

“Yeah, they like it if you ask their permission or how they feel about it. But, depending on the girl, the first option might be better. I’m assuming I won’t know who it is until you ask? Although my options are pretty limited with Slytherin girls in my year…”

“Yeah, I’ll write you an owl with her response,” he said sarcastically. 

“Get out of my room.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Regulus said, standing up. “Thanks.”

“Close the door!”

The door closed with a soft thud and a click. Sirius chuckled softly and moved to his desk. While it must’ve taken Regulus some time to ask him about this, Sirius thought it was amusing. And he must really like this girl to ask him how to ask her out. He wondered why he hadn’t asked his friends. Although, they would’ve known the girl right off the bat, and that seemed like something Regulus didn’t want the whole school knowing before he got an answer. 

Sirius pulled out paper and his quill. He had to write to James, Peter and Remus about this. Speculation about who Regulus fancied would be entertainment for all of them. Sirius was growing frustrated as he wrote since he couldn’t remember a single girl’s name. In general, the Slytherin girls were less abhorrent than the boys, thus making them less impressionable. All he could seem to remember is that they never seemed to be anywhere without at least a second one. And with that, he groaned. He couldn’t even remember how many of them there were. Should he care? Not necessarily, but if he could use this to torment his brother for a month or two, it could be useful. 

---

Regulus hugged his parents at the train station. He promised he would write and keep them up to date on what was happening at the school. He always did. And he knew he especially needed to now that Sirius had run away. He turned and spotted his friends climbing onto the train. They were a few cars down. He boarded at a car closest to him, hoping he might pass by your compartment on his way down to them. It was purely wishful thinking and he didn’t know if he would say anything if he did pass it. 

Younger students pushed past him as he slowly walked down the corridor. He listened to conversations as he passed. One group of first years eagerly was talking about how much magic they were going to learn and worrying about which house they would get sorted into. Various other groups were rehashing their summers to each other. Neither of the groups he was looking for. And then he heard your voice. A girl was standing in the doorway of the compartment, chewing gum. Your voice was floating out of it.

“... was the worst! In case you’re blind, I grew a bit over the summer and Mum insisted on purchasing new robes. I was bleeding in multiple spots by the time we left Madam Malkin’s. Sure, Mum healed me right up, but it’s the principle. I shouldn’t be subjected to such torture!”

“Regulus,” the girl in the doorway said as he approached. 

She popped a bubble right in his face. 

“Beatrice, pleasure,” he said, pausing to look into the compartment. 

You were sitting with your back to the window and your legs stretched across the seat. Across from you sat the two other girls from your year, Pandora and Dorcas. 

“Y/N, girls,” he said warmly and then continued on his way to find his friends.

It wasn’t a long walk, only a few compartments down from the girls. He passed a compartment filled with girls from his years. One of them said hi to him as he walked by so he nodded to acknowledge her. His mind was beginning to overthink his saying hi to you. Had addressing Pandora and Dorcas as ‘girls’ been weird? Saying your name singled you out. But he also said Beatrice’s name. Although she said hi to him first and was standing in the door. 

“Black, you with us?” Avery asked, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, I’m with you now. Sorry,” he muttered. 

He had to put the thoughts out of his head for a bit. Girls can wait. It wasn’t like he was planning to ask you out while they were on the train. That would’ve been suicidal and a recipe for failure. Horrible.

---

A fifth girl walked into your compartment. Beatrice followed her in and closed the door behind them.

“Took you long enough,” Dorcas said. 

“Little sisters wouldn’t leave the fucking house. Father was furious,” Cora defended, distaste in almost every word. 

“Almost missed the train,” you told her. “We would’ve missed you at the sorting and you mock the firsties the best.”

The girls laughed.

“Oh, Y/N, is there something going on between you and Black?” Beatrice asked.

“Sirius?” Cora coughed in disbelief.

“Ew, no. Regulus!” Beatrice corrected. “He passed by earlier. Barely noticed Cas and Dory over here. Only saw me because I was in the way.” She smirked. “So, Y/N, yes or no?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Do sources say otherwise?” you responded, a bit confused. “And by sources, I mean reliable ones. Not your imagination.”

“It’s not my imagination! It’s my eyes!” Beatrice retorted.

“You may be reading into it, Bea,” Pandora said. “I mean, maybe he didn’t get a good look at us. Or blanked on our names. Don’t think too hard.”

“Classes haven’t even started. Brains don’t work yet,” Dorcas added. 

“Does your brain ever work?” you asked.

“Hmm… No.”

The girls burst into fits of laughter again. Beatrice asked Cora about her summer and the conversation shifted away from Regulus. Your thoughts drifted back to the thought in dull moments of the conversation, but those moments never lasted long. You weren’t sure if Regulus has “more than friend” material. You even thought about Sirius briefly. Regulus’s brother. You didn’t share the same immediate “ew” that Beatrice had. But the sentiment of lacking “more than friend” extended to Sirius too. They weren’t even friends to begin with. So, why be distracted by boys who aren’t worth pursuing when you could be entranced by other things? 

“Y/N, you said your mum bought you new robes, right?” Dorcas asked, bringing you back to the conversation.

You nodded.

“So, what else did you get from Malkin’s?”

You smiled and pulled back your sleeve. A silver tennis bracelet covered in diamonds glittered around your wrist.

“Snagged some sapphire earrings for Mum’s Christmas present, too. It was a successful outing,” you gloated. “Well, except for the bleeding. But if that’s the price, I suppose it’s cheap considering…”

“You’ve got to get me a present sometime!” Beatrice gasped. 

“Oh, me too!” added Pandora. 

You laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The group talked more about your summers and vague plans for the year. 

“Do you think someone will throw a ‘back to school’ party?” Dorcas asked, adjusting her tie as the girls changed into their uniforms. 

“No doubt,” you answered. “The question is when.”

“Friday or Saturday, I’d assume,” Pandora said as she pulled her hair into a ponytail.

“Well, duh,” you laughed.

“Y/N, you’re in charge of getting us drinks!” Cora declared.

“Again, duh.”

The train pulled into the Hogsmeade station. The girls had decided that Saturday was better for the party. It would give them time to claim an empty classroom and set it up. And you would be able to get drinks. Cora was in charge of talking to a house elf to get food, or at least ingredients. If she failed, you would be able to pull something off, but that would push back the start time of the party. 

You slid the compartment door open with force. You opened the boys’ compartment and poked your head in. It was deadly silent and all eyes were on you. 

“Saturday, after dinner. We’re finding a sixth floor classroom to party in. Y’all invited. Do your part and invite people. Limited fifth years and no one younger,” you told them.

Regulus smiled. ‘Limited fifth years’ meant he could go. Plus, he was in the compartment that you specifically invited. Wilkes nodded at you and you stalked off. 

---

Professor Slughorn passed out schedules to Slytherin students at breakfast the next morning. Regulus watched as he stopped near you and your friends. The professor handed out the timetables without saying a word and continued down the table. 

“Who makes this schedule?” Cora groaned, looking it over. “History of Magic isn’t the class to teach first period!” 

“Ew, gross!” Dorcas sneered. 

“When will they learn to include who we have classes with on these schedules? I like to know who I have to put up with before I walk into the room,” Beatrice said, looking over her own. “Like, my electives, I have a general idea from last year. But do we have Transfiguration with Hufflepuff? Gryffindor? Ravenclaw?” 

“Me, myself, and I would like to know!” you added. 

Across the hall, Sirius was being handed his schedule by Professor McGonagall. He scanned it and then grabbed the rest of the groups’ schedules to compare. They hadn’t all chosen the same electives going into their third year so sometimes there were differences. 

“Okay, not bad. Not bad…”

“I’m not sure why you think we won’t have most classes together,” Remus said. 

“Maybe they decided they wanted to mess with us.”

“Can’t separate us! We’re the Marauders!” James exclaimed and slammed his mug down on the table. 

The seventh years next to them shot him a dirty look. He made a face back at them. 

“Grow up,” Remus laughed. “But, yeah, it’s kind of difficult to separate us.”

“Unless I get left behind,” Peter mumbled before shoveling pancakes into his mouth. 

James threw his arm around him. “You’re stuck with us, little Wormtail. Until the very end!”

---

Three days of classes was enough time for word to spread about the party the Slytherin girls were planning. They picked out a classroom and figured out how to replace the desks with couches, squishy chairs and beanbags. Cora managed to convince a house elf into making a few snacks for the party. She had gone in with low expectations and left with guarantees of a second feast.

“Anything for an inter-house activity!” she said, imitating the elf. 

The girls were walking to the classroom. Various students from other houses lingered in the corridors and in stairwells. They had been instructed to stagger arrivals to the classroom so they didn’t all descend on the room at the same time. The girls made sure to be the first ones there, as good hosts should be. They enchanted a speaker to play endless music. Cora set up the food trays as the elf had instructed her so they could fill from the kitchens. Pandora clapped as cream puffs and eclairs filled the trays. Slowly, people started to arrive. The room steadily got louder. Dorcas and Beatrice kept glancing from the door to the empty drink station to each other and repeat. 

You had left dinner early to retrieve several bottles from your stash. You didn’t let anyone know where you hid your stuff, nor what was all hidden there. You removed a painting from the wall and then tapped your wand to the wall. Bricks melted away like the entrance to Diagon Alley. A small room lit by an oil lamp was revealed. You grabbed the bag you left earlier and resealed the room. You hung the painting back up and hurried up to the sixth floor. You heard the party from down the hall and smirked. The party had started without you and the drinks - a sign that drinks maybe weren’t needed. 

When you entered the room, Dorcas and Beatrice almost tackled you. 

“Be careful!” you yelled at them, holding up the clanking bag.

They took a step back.

“I just… need a drink,” Dorcas said. 

They wasted no time setting up the drink table. Students gathered around them and helped hand out drinks. 

“How did you get stuff stronger than butterbeer?” a Ravenclaw asked.

“I’ll never tell,” you said.

You grabbed a bottle of flavored vodka. You had to do your rounds of the party. You liked knowing who showed up, who spent time with who and did whatever else with. Some call it gossip. You called it blackmail ammo. 

Prefects were dancing with each other. Seventh years were making out on a couch. Mary and Lily were on a couch, talking. The Gryffindor boys had found the drinks and were chugging them. Pandora and Cora were trying to get some of the Slytherin boys to dance. They didn’t seem to be too successful. 

You walked up to them and whispered to Cora, “Get them some drinks. Once they loosen up, try again.”

Cora nodded and went to grab cups. You continued to walk around the party alone. You took small sips from your bottle. You spotted Regulus sitting in one of the squishy chairs. He looked bored. You smiled and waved at him. He smiled back, but it quickly disappeared from his face when you walked toward Beatrice who was standing against the wall at the other side of the room. 

“It’s a party, Bea,” you told her. “Go dance! Talk to someone! Be stupid!”

“I am being stupid,” she hissed back so that you could barely hear her above the music and talking. “I can’t socialize.” 

You held out your bottle.

“Have a few sips. I’ll dance with you.”

Beatrice did as told and took your hand. You dragged her out to the middle of the floor and you danced. You liked dancing, but you also liked being aware of your surroundings, which you couldn’t do as well if you were dancing with a friend while trying not to drop your bottle. After a few songs, a Hufflepuff came up to you and asked to dance with Beatrice. Blushing, she accepted. You left them and went to take Beatrice’s old spot on the wall. 

Before the song ended, Sirius approached you with a cup full of firewhiskey in his hand. Remus’s eyes widened as he saw who Sirius was approaching. His other friends were elsewhere in the room, unaware that Sirius was trying to make a move on a Slytherin he had never talked to before.

“You’re pretty,” he said confidently like it was a smooth pick up line.

He stood directly in front of you with his non-cup hand placed on the wall above your shoulder. You raised your eyebrows at him. You could smell the whiskey strong on his breath. This wasn’t his first cup. 

“And you’re in my personal space,” you stated calmly. “Care to get out of it?”

“Hmm, I’d prefer to be even more in it.”

“Yeah, not happening,” you responded, giving his chest a push.

It was just enough to make him take a step back but not stumble. He looked a bit shocked, but didn’t say anything as you walked away from him. You took a long swig from your bottle and headed over to Regulus. You sat on the arm of the chair and handed him the bottle. 

“Were you just talking to my brother?” he scoffed before taking a drink. 

“Not by choice,” you groaned, leaning back. 

You placed your hand on his shoulder to balance yourself. He liked the feeling of your fingers grasping him, but he wouldn’t dare say anything. Not now, at least. 

“Yeah, he does that.”

Regulus took another drink out of the bottle before handing it back to you. He watched as Remus walked up to Sirius and threw his arm around him to drag him over where James was twirling some seventh year. She was giggling. Peter joined them shortly from the direction of the food table. A Ravenclaw girl was quick to grab Sirius from under Remus. And the two of them were dancing. Regulus chuckled as Sirius kept a polite distance from the girl. She was obviously more into it than he was. 

He wanted to ask you out now, but Hogsmeade and Quidditch weren’t for weeks. He looked up at you as you took a drink. Your eyes scanned the room. You smiled. You brushed a stray lock of hair behind your shoulder. Regulus’s brain had gone blank except for the thought ‘She is so pretty.’ 

He was jolted back into reality as you slammed the vodka bottle into his chest. 

“Don’t touch me, mudblood!” a seventh year Slytherin shrieked at a fifth year Hufflepuff in the middle of the room. 

You were between them within seconds with your wand out, pointed at the seventh year, who had also drawn her wand. Other students moved the Hufflepuff into the crowd. The air was tense. Someone had turned off the music. 

“Was that necessary, Williams?” you asked, your voice steady and firm.

“Protecting mudbloods? Really?” the girl responded with annoyance. 

“Protecting the party,” you corrected. “Head out or get hexed.”

“I could disarm you.”

“You won’t. You don’t want to be the reason Slytherin drops into negative points.”

Williams shoved her wand back into her pocket, made a face and grabbed the boy she had been dancing with to leave. She could be heard muttering rude comments about you and the Hufflepuff boy to the boy she was leaving with. You put your wand back in your waistband. Everyone at the party was staring at you as you stood in the middle of the dance floor. 

“Either turn the music back on or clear out,” you commanded before heading over to the drink table. 

Music started playing again, but some students did leave. You understood that the moment kind of ruined the vibe, but that was the way Williams was. You were planning on leaving too, except you wouldn’t leave without your drinks. You grabbed your bag from behind the table and started to place the bottles back into it. You refilled a few drinks as students came up to you. 

“Way to handle that…” Regulus said, appearing next to you and holding out your vodka bottle. 

“Blood status is bogus,” you muttered.

You then realized that you were talking to a Black, a family known for caring about the purity of wizard blood. You felt your face get warm as you looked up at him. You couldn’t quite read his expression.

“Don’t hex me ‘bout it?” you offered, causing him to laugh. 

“I’m not going to hex you. Just like how you stood up to Williams.”

You gave a soft smile and swung your bag over your shoulder, bottles clinking within. 

“Well, then I’ll see you later, Reg,” you said. 

He watched you walk out the door. He sighed. He should have asked you to hang out or do homework or something. 

“Y/N leave?” Beatrice whispered into Regulus’s ear.

He jumped and nearly punched her.

“Fuck, Beatrice.” He shook his head. “Yeah, she just left.”

“Boo,” she said, looking at the empty table. “She took all the drinks with her!”

“Yeah.” 

He walked away from Beatrice and went back to his chair, glad that no one had taken it. The party wasn’t nearly as entertaining now that you were gone. 

Across the room, Sirius had been watching. He saw Regulus approach you at the drink table and the brief conversation. He saw his brother’s facial expression drop as you walked away and him jump when another girl talked to him. Regulus’s aura darkened as you left the room. He was drunk at that point, but he was still able to connect that the girl he had called pretty was the one his brother wanted to ask out. To him, that was obvious.

[dduane]

Process for the new DEEP WIZARDRY International Edition cover

(rolls up sleeves) Right. Writing work (and recurring health issues) have repeatedly pushed these pieces of work to one side for the last year and a half. Time to take a brief break from ongoing work in other universes to rectify that.

Here's the template that I'm building on: the international edition cover for So You Want To Be A Wizard. (Available only outside North America, if you're wondering what makes it international. These paperbacks use the New Millennium Edition texts—except for the international edition of Games Wizards Play [when it comes out later this year], which was written to fit into the NME timeline to begin with, and will go into its international editions with that text.)

The cover concept's straightforward. Relatively dark, desaturated backgrounds: one glowy (or somewhat glowy) thing in the foreground, in a color that pops, or in lighting that makes it stand out.

For Deep Wizardry, things get slightly complicated by the fact that so much business happens underwater. But there are some things we can work with there. A scene in which two pivotal characters square off seems like a fair bet.

So: background first. Underwater lighting...

The sea floor: sand.

Sunlight from above the water.

But naturally that's not how the bottom would look, because there are ripples on the surface...

And naturally the sea bottom isn't going to be featureless, so we need some weeds and rocks.

The distribution's not ideal on these, but that comes under "fine tuning." That can happen over the weekend.

Now for the main attractions. Nita...

...and Ed. (ETA: There are some scale issues here. Properly speaking, Ed'rashtekaresket is significantly bigger, in comparison with Nita, than he's being framed in this shot. But Nita had to be big enough to actually show on the cover... So some liberties inevitably get taken.)

Now, while this is all promising enough so far, there's a bit of a problem. Nita's not terribly visible at this point. So, time to engage in some visual jiggerypokery that will both help with that problem and do something to hint at the connection between these two.

IIRC, Nita was wearing a wizardly forcefield in this scene to provide her with air and other necessities. So let's exploit that.

In the render, I can apply to her figure what in Daz Studio parlance is called a "geoshell": a kind of skintight digital overskin to which special effects can be applied: such as light emission. (And Nita's hair will get one too.) Since everything else in the scene is cool-colored, this light is going to need to be warmer, in (at the very least) a golden range. (Or rosy. May be playing with that for a bit.)

...But obviously we can't leave her looking like that. So what I get to do now is lose the rest of the scene and render Nita separately, in the same position but with different, less blued-out lighting...

...then add her figure back into the scene, over the geoshelled version (which can be clone-brushed out later).

...So when we slot that imagery into the paperback cover template, after some tweaking, this is what we get.

...Still some things to correct or refine here. (Such as the main body of back cover text, as I haven't written the new copy yet. And the quotes may want tweaking: the NYTimes review [which the WaPo picked up] had some lines that might work better.) Colors, composition, etc etc, can all use some final touches. But I think we're most of the way there.

With any kind of luck, this edition will be available online in paperback and ebook formats for the non-North American audience this time next week. (I'm still considering whether I want to offer hardcovers on these as well.)

(sigh) Now I want some tea. And then, tomorrow maybe, on to the int'l edition of High Wizardry...

ETA 2: off @softness-and-shattering's question:

If I may ask, is it not your publishers job to do this work? Is this a continuation of the thing where authors now seem to be expected to do their own marketing too, or are you doing the new millenium editions 'on your own' or similar?

I'm doing them on my own. While there are numerous foreign-language editions of the original YW books, the only publisher to use the NME texts so far (for books 1-3) has been Lumen éditions in France, and I'm not clear whether those editions are still in print.

Whatever their status, that still leaves me with a lot of countries where I can publish. And if that job's going to get done—lacking other publishers' interest, which my agents would handle—It falls to me to take the work forward. Such are the wonders of our age that I no longer have to wait for a publisher to turn up. And should something suddenly happen for publishers to get interested (like a TV series or whatever) then i can easily withdraw my own editions and let my agents do deals with them.

Meanwhile, why (as we say) leave money on the table? There are other English-speaking countries on the planet where the YW books can be marketed (and more countries still where—when there's cash to spare to hire the necessary creative talent—translations might not do too badly). So I might as well get on with it! I've got groceries to buy and bills to pay like everybody else... :)

(And just pausing here to point at the page pinned to the top of my feed. If you want to help with those groceries, there's a good place to start: the ebook bundles are still at their pre-holiday sale prices! ...Unless you're in the UK. [I'm so sorry about Brexit, folks, but there's nothing I can do about that...])