#I don’t need a full hand cast and I can still do art | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

impala-dreamer · 8 months ago

Text

Who We're Pretending To Be

A Story from the YOU Universe

~Joe finds himself getting too close to one of his grad students and he fights the urge to fall completely.~

Joe Goldberg (Jonathan Moore) x F!Reader

5,019 Words

Warnings: NSFW.

A/N: If you've not seen the Netflix show YOU, this may not be your thing. Still a great story, but it helps to know the show. Also, if you've not seen the show, I suggest you get right on that because it is AMAZING.

Set between Seasons 3 & 4. Slight spoilers for s4, but not really.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

The classroom seems cold today, like there’s something missing. It’s distracting. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s off, but there’s a charge in the air like something’s about to happen; as if lightning could strike at any second.

I don’t mean proverbial lightning, as none of my students seem to have grasped any of the contextual undertones of the book we’re discussing, but actual, live lightning. If I opened the windows behind my desk just a crack, a bolt would sneak through and bury itself in the base of my skull. Maybe that’s what I need- a jolt of electricity, something to break me out of this fog that crept up around me and climbs forever higher threatening to suffocate me.

I think I’d take the lightning to the skull over suffocation, but we don’t always get what we want.

I’m perched on the edge of the desk when the door opens and Y/N comes rushing in.

Suddenly, all of my attention is on her.

She’s never late. Never rushing, always at least ten minutes early for every appointment, every class. She seems- off today, as well. Perhaps she can feel the imminent lightning strike as well. Wouldn’t that be funny? I find a kindred amongst these idiot grad students who can’t even seem to end this horrid debate.

“I am so sorry, Professor Moore.”

Y/N’s voice cracks a bit, which in itself isn’t very unusual. She’s one of the quieter students I’ve encountered, and the only American in my current circle of acquaintances. Her accent is faint, as if she’s attempting to hide it from her schoolmates. She’s been here a while, I can infer; sprinkling in local slang and adding letters to words where back home there would be none. She’s trying hard to fit in, but why? Why not be herself?

“I got held up by-”

I hold up my hand and smile softly. “It’s fine, Y/N. Please take a seat and try to catch up.”

For fuck’s sake, she’s only twenty minutes late, but it looks like every second has weighed her down like lead.

The others pick up their debate and I sit back a bit, cross my arms, pretend to listen. This teaching thing isn’t as hard as everyone makes it out to be. Occasionally, I toss out an idea and let them run with it. Sometimes, I pay attention, mostly I don’t. Mostly I’m thinking of You. Of how beautiful You looked at that art show, of how You gasped when you saw me like You couldn’t decide if You wanted to run to me or away.

From the corner of my eye, I see Y/N timidly raise her hand and You are temporarily pushed aside. She keeps her hand up but close to her chest, as if the very act of asking to speak is somehow terrifying.

How can someone so brave be so terrified to do something as common as speak in class? She’s clearly not a scared person by nature- she moved across an ocean to attend university when she could have gone for free back home to whatever state college she decided to attend. I’ve peeked at her transcripts- she’s smart. Not win a genius grant or a full ride smart, but smart. Why is she so nervous?

I smile and a bit of her nerves seem to quell. Her shoulders relax an inch and she smiles back.

“You know you don’t have to raise your hand, Y/N,” I tell her, laughing gently to put her at ease.

She dips her chin and then looks up with the most beautiful gaze I have ever seen. Her lashes flutter upwards in slow motion, the darkness of her pupils expand, pushing nearly every fleck of color away except the gemlike glow cast by the stained glass window over my head. She smiles and her lips shine like glass. Soft, pink, beautiful glass. I can’t look away and yet I absolutely have to. Thankfully, she speaks and I can act like I’m moving away to sit in my chair and not to get away from her.

“Sorry,” she says, sweet voice sweeping over the room. “I just didn’t want to jump in because I was late but-”

“But you have something to add,” I finish for her.

Her eyes float back to me and the atmosphere shifts. The foreboding of a lighting strike vanishes and the room seems to warm up. Quickly, I sit and scoot the chair close to the desk, set my elbows on the top, clasp my hands near my lips. I can’t stop staring at her.

She nods. “Yes. If that’s alright.”

There it is again, the tiniest speck of British on her tongue. How long has she been living here, and why? It can’t just be for school. She’s too interesting for that. She dresses to blend in; muted colors and clean jeans, her hair always swept back, face free of plastering makeup or too much color. There’s only ever that pink gloss and a gentle brush of mascara. It’s as if she doesn't know how beautiful she is, or perhaps, she doesn’t care.

Or was she one of those kids who never really got any attention until they blossomed but by then it was too late to fit into their personality?

She chews her lip nervously and shyly looks away from me.

No, she knows. She knows how beautiful she is, she just isn’t one to flaunt it; doesn’t need the attention. Or is that how she draws them in?

She’s already talking, but I can’t hear a thing she’s saying. I can hear her voice, that honey like glaze she adds to things when she’s speaking passionately, but the actual words, the meaning- I can’t follow a damned thing. I’m too busy trying to figure her out.

You flash through my mind for a moment; a sweet memory of a smile in the library when You didn’t think I was looking.

What is it about a smile that says so much without words? Does it show who we really are or who we’re pretending to be?

“I just think that love shouldn’t be so easily condemned.”

Y/N’s comment breaks through my thoughts of You and I clear my throat, straighten up in my chair, focus.

Across the room, Nadia rolls her eyes, clearly disagreeing with Y/N’s interpretation. “This isn’t love, it’s obsession. The two can’t and shouldn’t be intertwined.”

Y/N bites her bottom lip and shakes her head.

What does that lip gloss taste like? Berries, perhaps… No. Stop it. Focus.

“I disagree.” Y/N sits forward and tucks her hands below the table. “Love is obsession. Obsession is love. It’s not a tautology, no, but you can have one with the other. If you’re not even a little obsessed with the person you love, is it really love at all?”

My mind is zinging, my ears ringing. Does she truly believe that, or is it all for the sake of debating Nadia? They’ve been at war most of the semester, but this seems truthful, deep.

The bell rings before I can recenter and add anything. I give my head a little shake and stand up, the chair rolling back behind me.

“Class dismissed. Great job today. Lively, wonderful discourse.” I fake a smile at the rest and then settle on Y/N.

She’s taking her time, hanging back as she gathers her things. She stuffs a notebook into her bag and the pen she’s been using rolls away from her.

“Crap.” She lunges across the table for it, but it’s too close to the edge, too far from her reach.

I drop down at the last second and save it from a dusty fate of rolling across the floor. “Gotcha.”

She’s staring when I stand up. Our eyes meet and she doesn’t shy away, but looks even deeper somehow. A smile lifts her cheeks and my pulse quickens.

No.

She holds out her hand and there’s a fleeting second when I want to trace my fingers across her palm, feel how soft and warm she is, but no. I toss her the pen and turn, trying to get her out of my head.

I have more important things to do than become a tired cliche. Some professor falling for a student. It’s an outrageous thought, and besides, I don’t need Y/N, I have You.

I hear the zipper close and a chair being pushed in. She’s leaving.

She lingers in the door and turns back to me with a sweet smile. “Have a good weekend, Professor.”

Her tone is so genuine, so kind that it nearly knocks me backwards. I can’t remember the last time anyone has truly wished me a good time. It’s such an overused pleasantry, so common and boring, but not when she says it. Not when she smiles at me like that, with her eyes still and focused on me.

The warmth spreading through me is real as well and I can’t seem to push it away. “Thank you,” I managed, barely able to stand let alone return the sentiment. “You too.”

The rest of the day goes by quickly but it feels like forever. Two more classes, two more groups of students droning on about what the author really meant, when none of them, not a single one seems to be able to read between the fucking lines. None of them can step back and see the whole picture, capture the meaning as a universe unto itself and not just a line in black and white on an otherwise blank page.

Y/N could read between the lines. Y/N would understand the sum of it all. She would get it.

Stop. Thinking. About. Her.

On my walk home, I think about You. Wondering what You’re up to, where You are tonight. The sun is setting, dragging the sky down into a deep pink and I wonder if You are seeing the same colors where You are. Someday, we’ll sit together on an island in the Pacific and see what that sunset looks like. Would You paint it for me, I wonder…

Y/N crosses my mind for a moment as I gaze at the light reflecting off a window as I pass. Would the sunset hit her shining lip gloss in the same way? Would the pink deepen with the sky? Would she smile if she caught me staring, back away if I leaned in to drag my thumb across her juicy, pink bottom lip?

No.

Darkness has settled and I haven’t moved to turn on a lamp. I’m stuck, glued to my sofa, my hands nailed to my thighs. I keep my eyes open for fear of seeing her face, but bouncing around the room looking for a distraction is only giving me a headache. I need to get out. I need something to do. I need-

A knock at the door.

Who would be knocking at my door at nearly ten o’clock at night?

Curiosity pulls me off of the couch and I switch on the lights as I head to the door. The peephole is clouded as fuck, but I can see her outline. My stomach tightens, my shoulders tense.

What is she doing here?

Her hand raises to knock again, but I unlatch the door before her knuckles hand. I find her dangling in the air, her startled face the most appealing thing I’ve seen in ages. Her eyes go wide, her jaw drops just enough to give me a peek at her tongue. Quickly, she rights herself and shies her gaze away. She chews her lip and I notice the pink gloss is gone, replaced by a deeper red.

Everything about her is different tonight. Her hair is down and fresh, her eyes are lined in black and the color blended above brings out the prisms in her eyes. Her clothes are strange as well: a short skirt, tall boots, a blouse that’s too tight to hide anything. There’s a gold string around her throat, something old, a gift perhaps from a dead relative, or a chance find at an antique shop. She would like diving through boxes of discarded wares looking for treasures, wouldn’t she?

Or maybe I’m just distracted by her appearance. Maybe I should stop trying to pick her apart and send her far, far away.

I’m not that man anymore. I’ve changed. I’m good. I have to be good for You.

It’s been too long since either of us has said anything and the fact of it is hanging in the air between us like some kind of glowing, awkward sign.

Thankfully, she speaks.

“Um… Hi.”

It isn’t much, but it breaks the painful silence.

I smile, confused but curious. My ultimate downfall.

“Y/N. What are you doing here?”

I should say something about it being inappropriate, something about contacting me only during office hours, but she knows. That’s not why she’s here. I can see it in her eyes.

Her hands are tucked behind her back, I notice. She’s holding something, not just shoving her tits in my face, although, I can’t say that I mind. She sees that I’m looking and turns to the side a bit to hide it more.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, calming herself, steeling her nerves. Why is she so nervous? What secret is she hiding? What plan has been brewing all day in her head?

That’s it, isn’t it? She was late this morning, distracted and timid because she was planning to come here.

I should be flattered, but I’m too intrigued by her boldness as she slides past me into my flat.

“I know this is highly inappropriate,” she says, the confession like a song on her lips. “But… I… Well…”

Her nose scrunches up in the most adorable way while she searches for the right words. It’s endearing and makes me want to sit for hours and listen to her talk, discover exactly who she is and why.

I’m still standing in the open doorway, I realize, so I move aside and let it close. My back presses into the door and I hold my tongue, letting her get to the point.

She’s struggling, dancing around it in her head.

I want to crack open her skull and watch the thoughts spark through the gray matter like shooting stars.

“If you’re worried you’ll get in trouble,” I say, trying to get things moving, “you won’t. I’m just wondering why you’re here and how it is that you know where I live.”

She laughs and digs her tooth into the corner of her lip. “I’m not… stalking you or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I almost laugh. Almost.

“Nothing that nefarious,” she goes on. “But I did do something bad.”

The nerves seem to fall away from her the more she speaks and her demeanor changes. Her voice deepens ever so slightly and her hip pops to the side as she looks me over. Is she… flirting with me?

“I doubt you’ve done anything newsworthy, Miss Y/L/N…”

She takes a step forward and her lips pucker gently.

She is flirting with me.

“I hope not,” she says with a little laugh. “You see, I work part time in the admin office…”

I didn’t know that. I don’t know a lot about her. So many things to uncover, so many artifacts to dust off and examine.

“OK…” I push off from the door and take a step towards her. She counters, stepping backwards, guiding me to follow.

“And, well, I accidentally was looking at your files and-”

“Accidentally?”

She presses her tongue between her front teeth and smiles, eyes falling across my face. “Accidentally on purpose,” she clarifies. “I was… curious.”

“About me?”

Another step closer but she doesn’t move this time, letting me close the space between us by a few forbidden inches.

She sighs sweetly. “A little, yes.”

I dip my chin and look up, lifting my brows in question. She pulls in a quick breath, clearly enjoying the look I’ve given her.

“OK, maybe a little more than a little.”

One more step and I’m closer than I’ve ever really been to her, except just now when she invited herself in. I take a breath and she smells warm like vanilla, sweet like honey. The fantasy of berries on her lips falls away and I suddenly want to bury my face in the crook of her neck and do nothing but breathe in her scent, feel it invade my senses, infect my bloodstream.

Her chest heaves with a heavy breath and her eyes grow a little darker. She wants me.

“Maybe a lot curious,” she whispers, lifting her chin and blinking slowly.

Is she daring me to kiss her? Can she feel the lightning between us? Dare I?

No. She’s a student. She’s off limits. She’s not… You.

She must notice my hesitation and steps back a pace. She clears her throat. “Anyway. I saw that it was your birthday today.”

It’s not my birthday. Not my real birthday, anyway, just the one on the fake passport with the fake name and real photo.

I smile because I have to. “It is.”

Whatever she’s hiding behind her back shifts between her hands. “And, well, it’s presumptuous of me but I’ve never heard you talk much about friends or family and… you don’t wear a… ring. I just… Well, I know how hard it is to be a world away from what you know, and this city isn’t exactly kind in general, so…”

She’s rambling and I don’t ever want her to stop. Her voice ebbs and flows over me like a sultry tsunami and I can feel my fingers twitch, my blood rush through my system faster and faster.

“I just don’t think anyone should be alone or forgotten on their birthday so-” Finally, she reveals the mystery behind her back and holds out a green glass bottle. “I took a chance that you were a scotch man. At first I thought wine, but I know nothing about wine, and the guy at the shop said this one was good, so… Happy birthday, Professor.”

She hands me the bottle and without thinking, I take it. It’s not expensive by any means, but it’s the gesture that counts. She doesn’t let go right away, holding it with me, as if she can communicate her desires through the blown glass.

“Thank you.” I smile, let my finger brush against hers. “This is… very thoughtful.”

She lets go but doesn’t move otherwise. Her eyes are locked on me, her stare so pure.

I have to get her out of here.

Y/N shrugs and smiles, so confident now, so sure. “It’s nothing, really. I don’t even know if it’s any good.”

Her meaning lingers and I nod, gesture to the sofa as I start to peel off the seal on the top of the bottle.

“Join me for a glass?”

She bites her lip again and I nearly lose it.

“Love to.”

The scotch isn’t terrible but it’s not great. More like something you’d grab if you were just looking to get drunk, not necessarily gift someone you’re trying to impress.

Is that what she’s doing here? Trying to get me drunk? Surely, she knows she’s impressed me long before today. The looks between us in class, the lectures directed almost entirely at her have not gone unnoticed, but this, this is different. This is dangerous. She is dangerous.

The sofa suddenly feels too small. We sit close, drinking and chatting about life in London. She tells me about her family back home and how she had to cross an ocean to escape a misspent youth and an abusive father figure. I lie my way through a few answers but mostly, I let her talk.

The more she drinks, the looser her tongue gets, the freer her gestures. More than once, her hand falls to my knee and even though I should, I don’t push her away. Even though I should stand up, take her glass, ask her to get the hell out of my house, I can’t. I can’t do anything but stare at her lips as she speaks, drown myself in the tone of her voice, memorize the shape of her ears, her nose, slope of her shoulder. I’m lost in time with her and even though I know the clock is careening past midnight, I don’t care. I don’t want her to leave. I don’t want her to move. I want to be frozen in this moment with her. I want to die in her arms but not before…

“Professor?” She laughs gently, loose and relaxed from the alcohol. She leans in, her shoulder pressing against mine. “Are you even listening to me?”

Honestly, I have no idea what she’s been saying, but I can’t let her know that. I shift a bit, turning towards her. There’s barely room left for the Holy Ghost, as they say, but I doubt he’d begrudge me a little closeness, especially on my- on Jonathan’s birthday.

“I’m listening,” I whisper, captivated by the way she’s glowing. “I’m always listening to you.”

She squirms a bit and smiles behind her glass, takes another sip, downing the rest. There’s a drop of amber gold on her lip and it takes every ounce of restraint in me not to sweep it away with my tongue.

She pats the back of her hand against it and the moment is gone.

“Ya know, you’re one of the best teachers I’ve ever had. And I’m not just sayin’ that. You really are. I get you. I see you, Jonathan Moore. I see inside you.”

She slurs a bit, but not enough for it to be considered a crime if I touch her. That’s all I want to do, just a simple touch. Just to feel how soft she is beneath my fingers, how smooth the curve of her cheek.

Ripping myself away from the impulse, I take the glass from her hand and set hers next to mine on the coffee table. “I think you’ve had enough, Miss. Y/L/N.”

Her hand lands on my chest, right in the very center of me. Can she feel my heartbeat? Does she know how much I want her?

“You can call me by my name, ya know,” she says, dropping her chin and smiling. She’s so close that it would take but a tiny nudge to taste her. “Everyone just calls me Y/N/N.”

This is insane. She needs to leave. I need to slam the door behind her and never open it again.

“Y/N/N.”

Her name falls from my tongue like an incantation and her eyes go hazy. She leans closer, her breath fanning over my lips.

“Say it again,” she asks, nearly begging, “please…”

Fuck, this isn’t good. I can’t do this. I shouldn’t do this. I need to- Fuck, what does it all matter? She’s beautiful and interesting and smart and sitting next to me barely dressed and all she wants is me to whisper her name. What’s the harm?

“Y/N/N.”

The spell falls over her and I know it’s too late to back away. Her eyes fall closed and she leans in, pressing her crimson painted lips to mine. She exhales, pushes herself into the kiss, lets out a tiny moan.

She feels so good and it’s all I can think about. She pulls back and I lean in, needing more. My arms wrap around her, stealing her away. She melts against me, opens her lips to my tongue. The vanilla on her skin mixes with the scotch on her tongue and I’m blown away.

“Professor…”

If feels wrong, so fucking wrong, but I can’t stop tasting her, can’t stop breathing into her with every ounce of air in my body.

I let her go for a second, thinking she’s changed her mind, but no, she’s even more ready than I am.

She stands up, fits her knees in between mine and slowly unbuttons her blouse.

My eyes are huge, I know it. I must look like an idiot but I can’t help it. She’s here, beautiful and curvaceous, teasing me, undressing for me. It’s all for me. She’s here for me.

The blouse floats to the floor and she looks down at me, a hint of previous nerves returning. Her bra is pale pink and covered in lace. Something so pure and innocent covering up something I would kill for.

I would, I realize. I would kill for her.

She wiggles out of her skirt and her hips are distracting. I want to touch, to feel my bones crushing into hers, to sink myself deep inside just to see what it’s like, to know her, to feel all of her.

“You like?” she asks, innocence ringing in her soft voice.

What happened in her past that would make her ask such a thing? Who hurt her so badly, who crushed her self esteem to the point that she wouldn’t be able to tell if I was enjoying her delicious display?

“Of course. You’re… absolutely stunning.”

I can’t say more or I’ll break. I reach for her and she slides into my lap, locking her thighs around mine. She presses down on me and my cock responds, all blood and logic rushing down to push back at her ass.

She wraps her hands around my neck and bends to kiss me. Her fingers tangle in my hair, she curls them, tugs gently, testing, enjoying. Her kisses deepen and her hips roll. I’m about to lose my mind.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first day of class,” she moans, scraping her nails across my scalp.

The sensation is intoxicating and my eyes roll back a bit as she tugs hard. Her right hand is locked in my hair and her left is dragging down my chest. I should stop her. I should stand up. I should…

“Fuck.”

Her hand sneaks into my slacks and she scoots back onto my knees for better access. I can’t even think straight as she rubs at my cock. Her hand is soft, warm, firm. I know I’m moaning, but I can’t help it. I might just die here beneath her.

Her tongue glides across my lips. “So hard to sit in class and not dream about fucking you…”

Something snaps inside of me and I let go. I grab at her tits, peel the delicate lace down and pinch her nipples hard until she’s crying out and arching against me.

“I can’t even read anymore,” she admits, nearly breathless as my lips seal around her left nipple. “Every page makes me think of you. I can hear every word in your voice. I- oh God-”

I bite down just enough to stop her train of thought and I look up to see a blank, beautiful stare.

“I want you,” she whispers, lips never quite closing after.

Fuck. This is what I was trying to avoid. This feeling, this hunger inside of me. This need to fall into someone else, this treacherous lust that forces me to act.

“Please…”

Her hand falls to the nape of my neck and it’s so delicate, so tender that I break.

Wrapping my arms around her, I stand and twist, flipping her over onto her back. She gasps and reaches for me, kissing through the shock while I tug the slacks from my hips. She yanks at my shirt, fumbling with the tiny plastic buttons, licking at every new inch of exposed flesh.

“Want you inside me so bad,” she sings, nearly praying as if I’m some ancient god on high that can make all her dreams come true.

I don’t know about all of them, but this prayer, I can answer.

I tear the lace from her hips and fall down over her, crushing her into the old sofa. Her breath stops for a blessed second and I swear I can hear her heart racing through the silence. She runs her hands across my shoulders and down, curling them around my hips while spreading her legs wider.

“Please… Please… Please…”

Her whine is pathetic but I can’t get enough. If I had it in me to drag this out, to tease her for hours, I would, but the scotch has clouded my head and the sight of her strung out and desperate makes it impossible to wait.

She inhales hard when I sink into her. I can feel myself falling but I press my hands beside her head and hold on as best I can.

She feels like heaven.

Or the closest thing to heaven I’ll ever know.

Wet and warm and tight, I can feel her throbbing around me. Every thrust is like magic, making her shiver and squirm and tighten up even more. She clings to me, nails digging into my arms, mouth searching and thirsty for more.

“Jon-”

I almost go insane. It’s not even my name, but it feels so right on her lips that I wish it was.

I feel her orgasm; her body clenching down on me and pulling me in deeper. It’s so hard not to scream her name at the top of my lungs. Nearly impossible not to stay here forever.

I fall down, shove my face into the crook of her neck and thrust a few more times. I know it’s over too soon, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

She rakes her hand through my hair, gently this time, and finds my lips, kissing me sweetly.

“Hi,” she laughs when our eyes finally focus and find each other through the afterglow.

God, she’s beautiful. So giving, so loving, so perfect in a million different ways that it’s actually breaking my heart.

I smile and peck her lips as I go soft inside of her.

“Hello, You.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05

#joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg x you #you tv series #you netflix #one shot

270 notes · View notes

bisexual-thoughtss · 2 years ago

Text

Tim Laflour x Reader

Summary; art student!reader asks Tim to pose for a drawing, sexual tension ensues

“You want me to what?” Tim startles at your request and the blush on your face deepens.

“I know it’s a weird ask, but it’s for my figure drawing class,” you tell him.

“You want me to pose nude for you,” he repeats and you nod. You know it’s a strange request for your best friend, but you desperately need a subject to draw and it’ll be purely professional. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself.

“You don’t have to be fully nude! Tasteful, really. Artfully draped fabric,” you explain with full puppy dog eyes, even though he’s already agreeing.

“Only for you,” he grumbles, putting on a show of being put out about it.

“Thank you!! I’ll get my stuff, set up on the couch!” You rush to gather your drawing kit as you leave Tim to prepare himself.

“Ready?” You ask as you walk back in. Tim is waiting for you on the couch, a sheet pooled around his hips.

“As I’ll ever be,” he laughs. You pull up a chair, setting up your small portable easel with your sketchbook and spreading out your various charcoal pencils and erasers.

You frown as you look up and see how awkwardly Tim is sitting on the couch. You give him directions on how to sit, but it’s still not right.

“Can I pose you?” You finally ask after a few minutes of unsuccessful maneuvering.

“Yeah, sure,” he sounds nervous but you figure it’s just the nudity he’s nervous about.

After closing the curtains, you turn on a lamp for a more direct light source before moving to situate him. You start arranging his limbs much more gracefully than he was previously sitting. He’s forced to lay on his side as you usher his legs up onto the cushions, propping his elbow on the arm of the couch. He rests his head on his hand as you arranged the sheet to drape well in the light while still covering his modesty. You school your features into carefully neutrality as your hand accidentally brushes against him through the sheet, not willing to give away how much it had affected you. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin and all you wanted to do was touch. The light casts shadows against the dips of his muscles formed from years of hockey practices, while his broad shoulders are starkly highlighted under the lamp. Taking his chin in hand, you tip his face toward the light with a small smile.

“You’re so pretty,” you praise before you think better of it. Watching the way the blush on his cheeks spreads down his neck to his chest is worth your embarrassment at letting that slip from your mouth. You turn and sit behind your sketch pad, pretending you hadn’t said anything.

Unbeknownst to you, Tim was having a small crisis in his head. It had taken all of his willpower and several unfortunate thoughts to keep from pitching a tent in the sheet as you were arranging it, and once you called him pretty and looked at him like that, he knew he was done for. He stays as still as he can while you’re staring at him while you draw. He’s seen you draw before, but you’ve never looked like this. You’re looking at him like he’s actually a work of art and he’s not sure how long he can take it. He sincerely hopes you won’t notice that he’s been half hard since you touched him. He’s doing everything he can to will away his hard on but watching you stare at him like that is ruining his resolve. Deep in thought, the end of your pencil finds it’s way between your teeth as you give his body a once over and he feels himself twitch. Your soft intake of breath alerts him that you definitely noticed and he wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

“So how do you like it?” You ask casually as you continue drawing, his mind clawing its way out of the panicked, horny rabbit hole it had fallen down to try and answer you.

“I- what?” He asks dumbly, your smirk hidden from him behind your paper. You could tell he was getting riled up, the tent under the sheet growing by the second.

“Modeling, you seem to be enjoying it,” you say neutrally, your double entendre not lost on either of you.

“Y-yeah, it’s alright. I don’t think I’d want to do it for anyone else,” he tells you, worrying his lip between his teeth. You can tell he’s embarrassed about getting hard in front of you, but you can’t help teasing him a little more.

“You sure? Seems like you like being looked at like this,” you smirk, confident in the strokes of your pencil and in your flirting.

“Just.. just by you,” he mumbles.

“Yeah? I don’t think I want you to model for anyone else either, want to keep you to myself. You look so good like this,” you hum, watching him struggle not to squirm under your gaze. You rise from your perch to walk towards him and he makes no move to get up.

“You can get dressed now, or…” you pause, watching his pupils dilate at the unspoken words, “I could reward you for being such a good model? If you want?”

You’re giving him an out just in case. Your friendship wasn’t something you wanted to sacrifice, but you’re pretty sure he wants this just as much as you do.

“Please,” he murmurs nodding up at you, pulling you closer by your hips. His fingertips slip under the hem of your shirt, pushing it up over the swell of your breasts. You yank it the rest of the way off as he noses at your skin, leaving a trail of kisses up your torso before reaching up to pull the cups of your bra down and attach his lips to your chest. You gasp at the suddenness of it, your hands clutching at his shoulders for stability. He clumsily unhooks your bra as he continues lavishing your breasts with sloppy open mouthed kisses. Your hands find their way to his hair as your back arches, pressing him more firmly to you. He groans into your skin as he pushes your shorts and underwear down in one go, leaving love bites down your torso as he does. He barely allows you enough time to step out of them before he’s burying his face between your thighs. You double over at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, his hands clutching your ass and pulling you closer. He shifts your leg, settling it over his shoulder to give him more access. You wobble unsteadily for a second but his arms cage you in and hold you up.

“This is not- ohh my god, not what I thought you’d want as a reward,” you moan, barely getting the sentence out as his tongue works against you. Whatever he may have said in reply was muffled, unintelligible words vibrating against you deliciously.

You can’t even focus on what you’re saying as praise falls from your lips, the swirl of his long tongue against you effectively melting your brain. His tongue dips into your entrance, and you’re sure he can’t breathe with the way he presses his face against you but he doesn’t seem to be worried about it as his lips move to suction around your clit. Burying your hands in his hair to hold him close to you, you can’t help but buck against him. His answering moan directly against your clit has a string of curses falling from your mouth as you fall over the edge. He works you through it, before moving to lap up the mess down your thighs. You struggle to get your breathing under control as he finally leans back, letting your leg fall from his shoulder. Your legs feel like jelly, and Tim realizes a second before you do that they’re not going to support you. He helps you sink to the ground softly so you don’t hurt your knees and you giggle all the way down.

“What’s so funny, eh?” He asks, mock offended.

“That was the best head I’ve ever gotten,” you sigh dreamily, head resting against his thigh as you calm down and he snorts. After a moment you get your wits about you again and remember what you actually had in mind and snatch the sheet away. His gasp at the sudden cold air turns into a moan as you kiss teasingly around his cock, never quite touching him. A stuttered please is all it takes to convince you to have mercy on him. You lick along his length, a broken moan falling from his lips as you swirl your tongue around his head. Your tongue dips into his slit teasingly and his hands twitch at his sides. You take him in your mouth but you can tell he’s still holding back. You whine around him and he jerks at the sudden vibrations, hands finally coming up to grab your head. Still, ever the gentleman, he doesn’t push or direct you, his hands simply resting in your hair and grounding you as you suck. You move back to his jewelry, teasing around it with your tongue before you wrap your lips around the metal, humming lightly. The effect is instantaneous as Tim dissolves into whimpers under you, thighs twitching as he squirms. All the teasing does him in quickly, his grip on your head tightening as he jerks underneath you with a whine.

“Please, please, please,” he chants incoherently and you have mercy on him, taking him back down your throat as he comes undone. After you swallow, you look up to find him staring down at you in awe. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your mouth when you see the state he’s in.

“I made such a mess, I’m so sorry,” you laugh, taking in the smeared charcoal on his skin. Along his shoulders, on his forehead, up his thighs, everywhere you look.

“You can make a mess of me literally anytime,” he grins, pulling you up onto the couch to cuddle with him.

#tim laflour x reader #tim laflour #senseless #tim laflour imagine #senseless 1998 #matthew lillard x reader #matthew lillard

1K notes · View notes

crowleysgirl56 · 1 month ago

Text

It’s been more than a month now since the pause was announced (yet why does it feel like 6000 years?).

I’ve seen a lot of people wondering why it’s taking so long, and I suppose the reason why is because Prime needs to figure out how best to untangle the show from NG.

Don’t forget he’s involved in three separate capacities: writer, executive producer and show runner.

As the writer, not much can be done here. The scripts are done so there’s likely no way that gets reversed or amended. If anything there’s always a possibility someone else comes on board to do on the fly edits during filming. If the scripts weren’t fully polished this may also be what is taking time. NG may also have not been able to complete them, either through Prime telling him to stop editing, or he’s decided to just not do it because of everything that’s happened the last 3 months. This could potentially throw a spanner in the works. It’s also the part I’m having the toughest time reconciling with. As much as I want to see season 3, as much as I want to separate the art and the artist, it’s still kind of hard to accept they’re going to be his words that we see.

As executive producer, frankly that’s probably the easiest to fix. He steps down from that role and someone else fills in. He wasn’t the only executive producer on the first two seasons. Surely there is someone else that could easily step into that role (cough Michael executive produced Masters of Sex cough).

Personally I think it’s the show runner aspect that is likely causing the most delay. Being the show runner means you’re there on set being immersed with the players and the director and the editors ensuring the integrity of the story. It’s an incredibly full on and hands on job. It’s also incredibly difficult because you also tend to be the conduit between the production and the audience, ensuring the final product is what the audience wants. You listen to any interview with a Doctor Who show runner and they’ll tell you how incredibly tough, difficult and stressful that job is. So if Prime were to replace NG with a different show runner not only would they have to find someone who is available to do it (incredibly difficult given most competent people would already be tied up with other productions ready to commence next year), but they would also need to find someone who is willing to do it, AND someone who knows and understands the show, the story, and the characters intimately. That is a really tough gig. So two possibilities: they are either trying to find the best suited person to step in as show runner, or they’re keeping NG on but trying to work out the best way to keep him on whilst maintaining the best interest of cast and crew. Hopefully that means trying to heavily negotiate just how much physical interaction he gets to have with the production. One would hope he’s bloody bared from set altogether, but just how practical can that be when filming a TV series? Especially when he’s the source of knowledge for how things are to be interpreted. Again, something that I’m having trouble more and more with lately.

These are of course all just connection and my own thoughts on what might be happening. I know as much as everyone else.

Ideally, I want to see him removed as executive producer and show runner, and someone new brought in as a script doctor. Whether that’s what happens is yet to be made clear.

We unfortunately just need to wait patiently and hope an announcement is made soon.

#good omens #good omens season 3 #neil gaimen allegations #fire neil gaiman #prime video #prime

43 notes · View notes

infiniteeight8 · 8 months ago

Note

More soul stone and Tony? :)

I am making up a lot of magic shit here. If any of it is inconsistent with canon (comics or MCU), just consider this an AU. If it’s inconsistent with previous installments of Tony & Soul, please let me know. (I did check, but that’s not foolproof.)

Content warning for past death of a teenager (no details) and discussion of corpses (mild) and ghosts (more extensive).

Edit: Realized I forgot to link the rest of the series. Here it is.

“When you said we were going on a field trip,” Tony said, looking around the morgue, “I thought we’d be, I don’t know, learning how cheese is made. Or going to the aquarium.”

“Because those are terribly relevant to soul magic,” Stephen said dryly. He murmured a quiet thanks to the morgue attendant and then they were alone. Turning to the storage drawers, Stephen found the correct one and opened it, pulling the corpse out into view. It was a boy. He couldn’t be more than fifteen.

Tony crossed his arms and focused on Stephen. “Soul was pretty clear that I couldn’t resurrect people.”

Stephen cast him a surprised look. “That’s not what we’re here for,” he said. “Given what you now know about the Mystic Arts and souls, haven’t you wondered why a city the size of New York isn’t full of ghosts?”

“Actually, no,” Tony admitted. He kept his eyes on Stephen. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” Which seemed foolish now, being the bearer of the Soul stone. Damn it.

Stephen frowned. “My apologies. I really should have given you a more thorough introduction to related magic. It’s not likely to be exactly the same, but at least you’d have context.”

Tony waved off the apology. “It’s fine. Ghosts?”

“Right. Given that roughly 200 people die every day in New York City,” Stephen continued, “we see several new ghosts every week. They don’t accumulate because helping them to move on is one of the duties of the Masters of the Mystic Arts. With Soul’s help, you should be able to do the same.”

Tony took a long look at the boy on the extended slab. “I know I said I was up for something more hands on,” he said, “but this is… He’s just a kid, Stephen.”

Stephen stepped up beside him and laid a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. The touch was warm in the cool morgue air. “I’m sorry,” Stephen said quietly. His regret was cool, almost soothing in a strange way, like a cold compress. “I didn’t think… Between med school and the Mystic Arts, perhaps I’ve grown a bit too comfortable with death. I should have warned you, let you adjust to the idea.”

Tony rubbed at his goatee, eyes still on the boy. “He left a ghost?” Tony could see Strange nod out of the corner of his eye. “Is he… angry?”

“No.” Stephen’s thumb moved, rubbing tiny circles into Tony’s back. “He’s confused. He wasn’t trying to linger, he just missed his chance, so he’s not really connected to the living world, either. He’s not even aware that we’re here. All he needs is for the way to be opened again. He needs our help, Tony. I know it’s not the same as helping the living, but it’s just as important.” When Tony turned to look, Stephen’s gaze was fixed on a point next to the body, but up a little. That had to be where the ghost was, though Tony couldn’t see it. After a moment Stephen turned and met Tony’s gaze. “I can make a portal for you if this is too soon.”

A portal for Tony, but not for Stephen, because he’d be staying to help this kid get to the afterlife. Because someone needed to. Tony set his jaw. “No. I’ll help. Show me how?”

“Ghosts occupy a plane of existence very close to our own, between our reality and the astral plane,” Stephen explained. “I’m not sure about the other planes, but you should be able to see this one via Soul. This of it as…” Stephen cast about for a metaphor for a moment. “You know those prints that appear three dimensional if you refocus your eyes correctly? It’s a little like that, at least for me.”

Tony squints at the spot Stephen had been looking at earlier, but nothing seems different. Help me out here? he asks Soul.

The stone is, but suddenly there’s someone there. Tony was expecting him to be washed out, translucent, but he’s not. He looks exactly like a living person, except that he’s haloed in an orange glow. Tony swallows hard. “I see him.” He’s abruptly grateful for the continuing presence of Stephen’s hand on his back, a warm anchor to reality.

“Good,” Stephen murmurs. “He’s trying to reach for something; can you see it? Or feel it.”

Tony starts to say no, but Soul interrupts: Not with his hands. With his soul.

After a moment, Tony sees it. The orange glow is trailing off in one direction, extending away from the boy. “I see it.”

“You want to give that reaching element more energy,” Stephen says. “Not much; you’re drawing from your own reserves. He only needs enough to feel where he’s meant to go.”

Tony can’t quite make it happen just by focusing. In the end, he raises a hand and points one finger, and a thread of orange spools out of it and towards the boy. Soul cuts the thread before it makes contact. You’re not trying to make a connection, it explains. Just to donate a little energy.

The thread disappears into the boy’s orange aura. For a moment, Tony thinks it didn’t work, but then the boy looks up from his body and turns in the direction that the orange trail is pointing. He takes a hesitant step, then another. On the third, he vanished, blinking out as if he was never there at all. Tony lets out a breath.

“Well done,” Stephen says. With a final press of his hand, he steps away from Tony and carefully slides the drawer closed, sealing the boy’s body away again.

“I was kind of expecting a white light,” Tony admits.

Stephen smiles, just a little. “So did I, the first time. But in reality, we’d have to get a lot closer to death to see any representation of the other side, and the Masters still aren’t sure if the images we see when we make that approach are cultural, physiological, or definitive.”

Tony snorts. “Even the Mystics don’t know everything, huh?”

“Not even close.” Stephen casts a portal for them and together they step into the Sanctum.

Tony waits until the chill of the morgue has entirely dissipated and Stephen is pouring tea for them before voicing the thought that’s on his mind. “Soul warned me not to make a connection when I gave the boy some extra oomph.”

Stephen turns an interested look on Tony. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Which begs the question: what could I do with a connection?”

Stephen sets the teapot down with an uneven clink. “I don’t know.”

Tony blows out a breath. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Soul’s silence is less than comforting.

#IronStrange #ficlet

35 notes · View notes

sloanesallow · 5 months ago

Text

The Call of the Void | Chapter 4

Shy girl meets distracted boy. Chaos ensues. This is my "canon" retelling of Siobhan Sloane and Sebastian Sallow's story. (full synopsis here. Chapter Summary: Sebastian finally notices the new fifth-year. This chapter features art by @puridewart 💛 3.5k words Chapter warnings: Mild Leander-Slander, but that's mostly because this is a Sebastian POV chapter. [Ao3] | [Wattpad] [PREVIOUS] | [NEXT]

IV: D u e l

Sebastian wakes up on Tuesday in a bad mood.

Only a week into the new school year and he’s already regretting the choice to overload his class schedule with extracurriculars, bringing the total to fourteen. Combined with his late-night research in the restricted section on possible cures for Anne, Sebastian is lucky if he sleeps for more than a few hours if he sleeps at all.

The previous evening was supposed to be spent in the library, but instead, he stays up writing forty inches on ancient runes, cursing under his breath at the absurdity of a professor assigning such a task the first week of school. He falls asleep before he can finish, slumped over his dormitory desk, quill in hand. When Ominis wakes him up the following morning, Sebastian’s neck is stiff, fingers stained with ink, and stomach rumbling. The clock in their shared room shows breakfast isn’t possible, not if he wants to be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” he grumbles, shedding the clothes he fell asleep in for a clean set as he weighs the pros and cons of skipping class in favor of leftover toast.

“I did,” Ominis counters, flicking his wand to remove the wrinkles from Sebastian’s uniform. “You told me to quote, eat runes and die.” He turns to leave. “At least, that is what I think you said—your sleep-deprived Gaelic needs some work.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, securing the knot of his Slytherin-green tie as he follows after Ominis, the two walking in amiable silence from the dungeons to the western tower. His eyes are still heavy as he thinks about the day ahead, thankful there are only two classes to suffer through, with the rest of the afternoon and evening to do as he pleases. While sleep is preferable—and desperately needed—he still has several other assignments to work on, readings to complete, and projects to get a head-start on. Not to mention wanting to follow up on a promising lead for Anne, discovered while researching abnormal curses. There simply isn’t enough time in the day.

He sighs, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.

“Merlin’s sagging arse, Sallow. You look terrible.”

Sebastian clenches his jaw in annoyance as Leander greets him outside the D.A.D.A. classroom. “Prewett.”

The Gryffindor certainly became bolder over the summer, likely due to the growth spurt that finally brought him to the same height as the other fifth-year boys. Sebastian doesn’t want to think Leander’s newfound confidence has anything to do with Miss Morrison—how the gangly redhead managed to woo her is anyone’s guess.

The statues framing the doorway blink as the two exchange similar scowls, only moving when Ominis sighs in the threatening way only he can achieve. Leander doesn’t let up, however, taking advantage of the fact Professor Hecat hasn’t arrived yet.

“Rough night?” he prods. “We missed you at Crossed Wands. Does that mean you’re too busy to defend your title?”

“Like hell!” Sebastian exclaims, catching the way Leander’s eyes widen in alarm, but it’s too late for Prewett to back down now. The reminder of what else he’s missing out on only adds to his stress. Sebastian rolls up his sleeves and brandishes his wand. “No time like the present.”

“Sebastian,” Ominis warns. “No.”

Sebastian laughs, “yes.”

Leander falters, stumbling as he barely deflects Sebastian’s first cast. “No fair, Sallow!” he complains, the two moving into taunting stances on opposite sides of the classroom. “I wasn’t ready!”

“You should know by now that I don’t play fair,” Sebastian counters with a sarcastic chuckle. “Stupify!”

The impromptu duel excites the rest of the class as they arrive, quickly gathering to watch as he and Leander exchange a flurry of spells. It’s frustrating how good Prewett is—he wouldn’t be a member of Crossed Wands otherwise—but Sebastian knows he is better—the best.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunts after blocking the redhead’s attempt to disarm. “Bombarda!”

Leander’s last-second shield charm doesn’t save him from the aftershock of the small explosion, propelling him backward into a large stack of books. His fellow Gryffindor, Cressida Blume, runs to help while the others cheer for Sebastian’s victory. He cockily grins until Professor Hecat appears in the doorway of her office that oversees the classroom. She sighs, shaking her head in disapproval before slowly descending the stairs.

“Perhaps I should be grateful you avoided the Hebridean this time.” Her ire shifts to Leander, who fails at shrugging off Cressida’s fussing. “I see a review in deflection is needed. Let’s begin with the known variations of Protego.”

There are a few mumbles and groans as the professor gestures for the class to cease their gawking. Sebastian slinks back to his assigned seat, noticing briefly that his deskmate is already there, focused and quiet as ever. Sloane—the new fifth-year. He waits to see if she will say anything as he settles onto the bench, but like every day since her arrival, she remains silent.

Odd.

It isn’t like he’s said anything to her either—he hasn’t had a reason to and isn’t one for forcing conversation, especially on an unwilling participant. What little he knows of the new girl is based on unreliable hearsay and his scant observations of her behavior in the last week. At least she seems a little less terrified than before, undoubtedly due to being rescued by Poppy Sweeting. He’d seen her small triumph at Summoner’s Court, but the use of Accio is hardly impressive. The conclusion Sebastian arrives at is that Sloane is not worth his time.

Under different circumstances, he might find it in himself to be cordial, or even friendly, but those carefree days are in the past. Of course, there is a small flicker of curiosity that anything new brings, but he quickly extinguishes the thought, steeling his mind. There is no time—Anne is his focus, and everything else is a temporary distraction.

He switches his attention back to Professor Hecat, even if today’s lesson is redundant, information he taught himself long before it was required. Instead of taking notes, or at least pretending to read along in the textbook, he fiddles with his wand, twirling it between the fingers on his left hand. He starts to imagine all the other things he could be doing right now, like finishing his Ancient Runes assignment or charming a Prefect to look the other way as he digs through Professor Sharp’s supply room, or—his stomach growls—eating breakfast.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Sloane glancing at him, her face contorted in concern. She parts her lips to speak, closes her mouth, and then repeats the action a few times, looking very much like a fish. He might have thought her mute if he hadn’t seen her talking with Poppy in class the day before. Her insufferable shyness reminds him of the first-years who are too nervous to ask him for the common-room password when they’ve forgotten. Mildly perturbed, Sebastian raises an eyebrow, turning his head to look at her directly.

“Can I help you?”

Sloane snaps her gaze back to her notes, scribbling her quill against the parchment, and he leans over slightly to see nonsensical squiggles rather than actual words. Realizing his sudden proximity, she flinches and he immediately pulls away, more perplexed by her demeanor than ever. What he should do is continue to ignore the strange newcomer, but between Hecat’s droning and the girl’s flustered state, he finds the latter more compelling. He continues to look at her, studying her profile and smirking when a flush of pink tints her cheeks.

Cute.

And she is cute, objectively speaking. Sebastian hasn’t given his preferences much thought before, but he isn’t blind. The sunlight spilling in from the windows illuminates Sloane’s ashen-blonde hair—she’s finally cut off the damaged ends, leaving behind a short and wavy crop. The yellow of her jacket makes her look golden, envying Ominis with how tidy her uniform is. She’s pale in a way that accentuates her blush and the dusting of freckles across her cheeks. There’s a faint scar on the bridge of her nose, and he wonders if the cause is magical or mundane.

Her eyes, however, aren’t as doe-like and innocent as he expects; rather, they are a stormy shade of grey with an unsettling depth. A well of sadness, one Sebastian has seen before in his own reflection. Sloane is a kindred spirit, or at least that’s what intuition tells him. His curiosity burns anew.

He should say something.

Maybe.

Professor Hecat speaks first, preventing further rumination. “Since you were all so keen on using this space as a dueling hall, we will now practice these defenses with each other.”

Her announcement excites the class all over again, everyone moving to stand on either side of the room as Hecat moves their desks aside and raises the long dueling table. Cressida and Sirius Black are the first to demonstrate what they’ve learned, and it takes all but a few exchanges for Miss Blume to knock the Headmaster’s son onto his back. He sneers, flicking dust off his tailored jacket as Cressida flourishes under the attention and praise from her classmates.

Sebastian watches the matches intently, making a mental note to mention the outcomes to Lucan Brattleby at the next Crossed Wands meeting. Everett Clopton and Isaac Cooper are next, showcasing how they ought to stick to flying rather than spellcraft. They are shooed from the table when it becomes apparent they’d rather showboat than have a proper duel. Ominis and Adelaide Oakes follow, and their drastically different dueling styles cause Professor Hecat to declare a draw after five minutes. Thereafter, Aurthur Plummy loses to Grace, and Leander suffers his second public humiliation of the day when Imelda sends him toppling from the table and into the same pile of books as before.

While Cressida and Hecat check to see if Prewett is conscious, Sebastian sees Sloane in his peripheral, fidgeting with her wand. It dawns on him that they are the last pair to participate. She holds the same worried expression that she always does, her eyes wide with panic as they flick back and forth between him and the purple-draped table.

“Have you ever dueled before?” he asks.

Sloane hesitates before shaking her head.

“Well then,” Sebastian smirks as Hecat instructs them to take their places. Maybe the new girl will surprise him. “Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome.”

It isn’t until Sebastian turns around in his spot to face his opponent that his bravado fades at the sight of Sloane, her demeanor reminiscent of her arrival to the opening feast. Nervousness is one thing, but Merlin, she looks miserable and afraid, her petite stature doing nothing to help the situation.

Pride won’t allow him to go easy on her—she has to learn somehow, right? Still, he hesitates, even as Professor Hecat allows them to begin. Sloane glances down at her hands before gripping her wand a little tighter, raising her arm defensively. Knowing she is unlikely to cast first, Sebastian flicks his wrist, almost thankful when she blocks the blast of magic at the last possible moment.

She stumbles backward, rebounding when she more easily deflects his second attack. Sebastian relaxes, wondering if the new fifth-year really is the prodigy rumors claim her to be and is hiding her talents behind a meek facade.

He tests this theory, casting with more conviction. “Stupify!”

Her shield charm appears without an incantation, and he’s stunned long enough that her basic cast slips past his Protego. Sebastian staggers, widening his stance to avoid falling over. He’s been hit by all sorts of spells in his lifetime, but whatever power Sloane possesses feels different—unnerving and pleasant at the same time.

The strange sensation doesn’t stop him from returning fire, the class collectively gasping as she fails to protect herself in time. Sloane takes the full brunt of his magic, yelping as she’s sent flying off the end of the table. Even though he’s just won the dual, victory feels hollow. Sebastian may have the reputation as Hogwarts’ best duelist, but he won’t be known as a bully.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Sebastian rushes down the length of the table, hopping off the edge in time to see Sloane slowly pushing herself off the ground, clearly dazed by the outcome. She rubs the back of her head, wincing in pain. Guilt churns his stomach and he reaches out, offering his hand.

“Here,” he murmurs, hoping he looks as non-threatening as possible.

Sloane stares up at him with glossy, storm-cloud eyes and the sight makes his chest weigh heavy with shame. He can’t tell if her unshed tears are from embarrassment or a bruised skull. She shakily reaches up and Sebastian can’t blame her hesitation, grasping her hand to hoist her upright. As soon as she is standing, her gaze darts away, and before he can ask if she’s alright he is being pushed away by another flash of yellow as Adelaide arrives to help.

“That is enough for today,” Professor Hecat announces, dismissing the class with a wave of her hand. “Please continue to review and practice your defensive spells without hurting each other.”

Sebastian frowns and looks down at his right hand, flexing his fingers as they tingle. He lingers, eavesdropping as Hecat offers some encouragement to Sloane before suggesting that Adelaide take her to the hospital wing for a quick exam.

“You as well, Mr. Prewett,” she says, just before the Gryffindor wobbles out of the classroom. He groans, rubbing his temple as Cressida happily offers to escort him. Just as Sebastian moves to leave as well, Professor Hecat clears her throat. “Mr. Sallow.”

He stops and slowly turns, attempting to charm the professor with a cheeky smile. She isn’t impressed, hands on her hips as she shakes her head. Perhaps one day, he won’t be such a disappointment.

“Yes, Professor?” he inquires, feigning innocence. Hecat rolls her eyes, unimpressed.

“I have a request for you,” she starts, clasping her hands. “It appears our newest student could use some help with her studies. Are you familiar with Miss Sloane outside of class?”

Sebastian wonders if Hecat is making the assumption based on his chivalrous behavior. He lifts a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “Not really,” he answers, even though the real answer is not at all.

“No matter,” she dismisses his response. “Perhaps you’d be willing to invite her to that little dueling club you think is a secret from the staff.”

“What?” he says, in disbelief, shaking his. “You have to actually be good at dueling to join Crossed Wands.”

“So that is what you call it,” Professor Hecat’s sly smile makes Sebastian nervous. “But that is exactly my point, Mr. Sallow. Miss Sloane needs to catch up with the rest of her peers, and what better way to accomplish that than to be tutored by the best?”

Sebastian should be flattered by the compliment, but he remains reluctant to agree. “Might I think about it?” he asks, unsure if even he has the time to attend Brattleby’s club, let alone take Sloane under his wing. Maybe he can set her up with Onai—she’s talented enough, and the two are more likely to get along.

“So,” he drags the word out in an attempt to change the subject, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Am I—”

“Still in trouble?” Professor Hecat finishes, and he swears she looks amused by the situation. “Yes.”

“But—”

“I warned you about using unsanctioned spells in my classroom, Mr. Sallow,” she reminds and he sighs, knowing she is right. “Not to worry, as soon as his head clears, Mr. Prewett will be spending the next several days organizing and repairing the books he damaged.”

It’s never been easy for Sebastian to apologize. “I—” he swallows thickly. “I’m sorry, Professor Hecat.”

She nods curtly. “Good. Now, run along. I’ll let Professor Binns know to expect you this evening.”

Detention—Sebastian’s mood worsens as he finally leaves the classroom. He should’ve gone to breakfast.

|_ | _ | _ | _|

After devouring his evening meal in the great hall, Sebastian begrudgingly makes his way to the dungeons, but instead of returning to the Slytherin common room for the evening, he diverts toward the familiar door at the end of a long hall. The detention chamber is a dark, cramped room, full of old desks and oddities from a bygone era. He eyes the stockade in the corner and shivers, grateful he didn’t attend Hogwarts when the torture of students was permitted.

Sebastian is surprised to see Professor Weasley instead of the ghostly Binns, and she greets him with a cordial smile, even as she confiscates his wand. It’s only for the next few hours, but the separation creates an uncomfortable knot in his chest. He sighs, flopping down into the least dusty bench, unceremoniously dropping his satchel on the desk in front of him. He waits to see if anyone else enters the room, but of course, he’s the only one with detention this evening. The school year has only just begun—this must be a new record.

He glances at the clock—three hours until curfew. Easy enough.

For the first hour, he finally finishes his assignment for Ancient Runes, pleased with the results. Next, he reads through an old tome, carefully moving the pages so they don’t turn to dust. Most of the text is in Sanskrit, which even Sebastian cannot begin to fathom how to translate. Still, there is much to be gleaned from the diagrams and drawings of ancient rituals depicting what he can only guess is dark magic.

“Mr. Sallow.”

Sebastian flinches, momentarily worried he’ll be caught with such an illicit book. He pretends to be taking notes as if it is just another one of his many coursebooks, anxiously glancing up as Professor Weasley stands to approach.

“I have a request for you,” she says and he nearly tells the professor to queue up behind Hecat. Instead, he neatly folds his hands over the tome in a poor attempt to disguise its true contents.

“What kind of request?” he asks, already suspicious.

Professor Weasley flashes another polite smile. “This concerns our newest student—”

“Sloane?” he confirms with a raised eyebrow. It has to be a coincidence.

“Why, yes,” the Deputy Headmistress replies. “You share many classes—are you—”

“Not at all,” Sebastian interrupts, biting his tongue when her expression falters. “I mean…” he taps his fingers against the desk. He and Sloane are in a lot of the same classes, but he isn’t interested in anything more. Especially after today’s events, he is likely a jerk to be avoided at all costs.

“I’d like you to escort Miss Sloane to Hogsmeade tomorrow afternoon,” she explains, ignoring his distressed state. “And before you worry about your classes, I have already sent an owl excusing your absence.”

Sebastian frowns. Why is he, out of all the students in the school, suddenly being trusted with such responsibility? “Are you certain?”

Professor Weasley nods.

“Is this punishment?” he asks next.

“No, do you think it is punishment?”

Sebastian doesn’t answer.

“You need a distraction, Mr. Sallow,” she sighs, and he realizes very quickly she—and perhaps the other professors—mean to keep him busy so that he stays out of trouble in his endeavor to cure Anne. Solomon—he grumbles to himself, knowing his uncle has something to do with this.

“You know the area, and understand how important it is to avoid danger,” Professor Weasley continues. “Victor Rookwood may be terrorizing the Highlands, but Hogwarts and the Hogsmeade village will be safe.”

Sebastian still isn’t convinced but doesn’t bother with arguing. He relents with a small nod, lips pursed in a straight line. “Fine.”

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Sallow,” the Headmistress speaks in a softer, kinder tone. “Despite your penchant for detention, you are one of the few students I can trust to be kind to the young miss.”

Ironic, considering what he’d done that morning. Kindness usually doesn’t result in concussions. Sebastian suddenly finds himself thinking about Sloane’s sad eyes and the sympathy he felt towards her at that moment. Maybe Professor Weasley is right, and he is kind, without even realizing it. His reputation could be worse, but first impressions are everything and he’d already made an utter arse of himself.

Tomorrow, he’d find out for certain.

Comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated 💛

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #hufflepuff oc #siobhan sloane #fanfic

21 notes · View notes

watermelonsloth · 10 days ago

Note

Hi.... If you don't mind me asking, can I ask, what are your top 10 (or top 7) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series/games/etc) and your top 10 favorite characters from any media ? Why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this questions before......

Hello to you as well. I don’t mind people asking me questions and I haven’t answered this before. This is long so read more under the cut.

I prefer the number 7, so I’m gonna do my top 7 favorite pieces of media. Don’t let the numbers fool you, these are in no particular order. Also, be warned, I don’t know how much sense what I say will make to anyone who has watched/read these.

1 - Naruto/Shippuden (only those two and specifically the manga) - I have thought about, analyzed, and talked about this series too much to lie to you and say it isn’t one of my favorite series of all time. Even with all of its flaws, it holds a place near and dear to my heart. It has some of my favorite character work I’ve ever seen even with its imperfections, the first 27 volumes of Naruto are still some of my favorite written books/manga, Kakashi vs Obito is my favorite fight in any piece of media (quite frankly, the Naruto anime has ruined fights scenes for me), and this series is what inspired me to get into media analysis in the first place.

2 - Fullmetal Alchemist/Brotherhood - This is my legally obligated mentioning of Fullmetal Alchemist and the Brotherhood anime adaptation. Excellent character work (+actually good female characters), beautiful art, some of my favorite foreshadowing/slow burn ever, and commentary on the hubris of man and strength in collectivism while criticizing both the military and the institution of religion. Chef’s kiss! This is a great example of someone knowing what story they wanted to tell and fucking telling it. The biggest problem I have with the series is that every time I want to rewatch it, I feel the need to watch all of it at once and that’s just a lot of anime for me to devote my full attention to in one sitting.

3 - Madoka Magica (I can only vouch for PMMM, I haven't watched the other stuff) - Fun fact: this is the first piece of media to make me cry. Something about Sayaka’s story just… got to me. I really like this because it’s an example of a deconstruction done right. Of the few other deconstructions I’ve seen, they tend to be too shallow to even really feel like deconstructions or too dark. Madoka Magica hits that sweet spot of going to those deep and dark places while still maintaining a sense of hope.

4 - Across the Spiderverse - Since I’ve recently slipped into quite the superhero phase, all inclusions are superhero related moving forward. So I remember going into the theater to watch this completely blind. I had heard of Into the Spiderverse and had heard nothing but positive reviews, but I also wasn’t big into superheroes or Spider-Man so I never watched it for myself. I don’t think I made it through the first ten minutes of atsv before thinking “Goddamn it, now I have to watch the first movie.” Between the two, I had to pick atsv because, while I did like itsv, I had some problems with it. Namely, I thought that it underutilized a chunk of its cast (Spidernoir, Spiderham, Peni, and the villains felt wasted) and I thought they could’ve done more with the interdimensional travel idea. Atsv made these pretty much complete nonissues. The only character I felt like could’ve used a bit more attention was Spiderbyte, that was the only issue I had with it besides the movie ending before I was done watching it. Other than that, I don’t know what else I can say about this movie that hasn’t been said a million times before. The art is disgustingly, dream-crushingly good and if the writing doesn’t match that level of skill, it gets damn close.

5 - My Adventures With Superman - My Adventures With Superman has my favorite adaptation of Superman hands down. Yeah, I like my Clark Kent with a little more self-confidence, but for a Superman who’s just starting out and the story they wanted to tell, it works. As I’ve said before, I don’t care for him being used as a racial allegory but I do like them exploring his sense of identity. The series automatically gets points for two very underrated but important parts of writing: the main couple is actually one I can root for and it doesn’t waste the audience’s time. What I mean by not wasting the audience’s time is that they don’t draw out the Clark is Superman reveal or the will-they-won’t-they between Clark and Lois unnecessarily. It also has the first villains I genuinely want to strangle in a while (looking at you Amanda “The Audacity” Waller and Lex “Make Earth Great Again” Luthor). I can’t wait to see what they do with Superboy in season 3.

6 - The Batman (2022) - To continue the train of DC characters finally getting good adaptations: the Battinson movie. The set design, the cinematography, the action, the pacing of the mystery (it’s a long watch but it’s worth it), Alfred helping solve the mystery, Batman, Jim Gordon, the dynamic between Batman and Jim Gordon, Riddler, Catwoman actually mattering and having a good dynamic/romance with Batman, the balancing of multiple Gotham rogues, the humor that I didn’t expect it to have (especially from the Penguin). This Batman needs a Robin yesterday. This movie is probably my favorite movie on the list. I want to put emphasis on the set design/how Gotham looks. I recently started watch Gotham (the tv show) and I was so disappointed that Gotham didn’t look any different from a standard east coast city. But this Gotham looks like Gotham. This Gotham looks like a place you’d only live in if the rent was 25¢ a month or you couldn’t afford to move out. This Gotham looks like a city that would have some guy dressed as bat beating up criminals.

7 - Deadpool 3: Deadpool and Wolverine - I was weighing between including this or the live action One Piece and just decided to pick the one I had more to say about. This is the first movie to genuinely and consistently make me laugh in a while. The plot’s kind of meh; it’s a fun allegory for the Fox X-Men series but it wasn’t especially investing and the villains were entertaining but nothing to write home about. What truly makes this movie worth the watch is Deadpool, Wolverine, and their dynamic and development with one another. The development both of their characters got actually caught me off guard since, once again, this is a movie I went in mostly blind to. All I really knew about the Deadpool films were the humor and in my experience, comedies (especially dark comedies) tend to be afraid of getting too serious. But this movie actually balanced the comedy with the serious moments of development without either feeling too jarring or forced.

Talking about my favorite characters will be a lot quicker because I don’t actually have consistent favorite characters. My favorite characters change all the time because I have a love-hate relationship with many of my all time favorites and they shift depending on what I’ve been watching/reading/thinking about most recently. It doesn’t help that the qualifications for being on my list of favorites are: I’m not actively frustrated with their character writing and I find them entertaining.

If I had to say what my top 10, in no particular order, are right now, I’d list: Pein from Naruto, Sasori from Naruto, Joker from the animated Under the Red Hood movie, Kimihiro Watanuki from xxxHolic, Sam Wilson from The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, MaoMao from The Apothecary Diaries, Wade Wilson from the two Deadpool movies I’ve seen (the first and third), Robin from Teen Titans (the animated show), Katherine Howard from Six, and Hobie Brown from Across the Spiderverse.

8 notes · View notes

sekaithemystic · 2 months ago

Text

Neve Gallus Analysis and Theory series [Part 2]

Rana snapped a salute as we entered. Knight-Captain Jahvis stood on the other side of the desk, all patched-up armor and sleep-deprived glares in front of an expensive marble fireplace. I sympathized. My family has more templars than mages. I’m sure that says a lot about me. The point is, I’m not from an old family and I felt as at home in Lady Varantus’s house as Jahvis looked.

The section under this contains spoilers from the podcast Vows and Vengeance.

[part 1] [part 3]

Neve and Radonis - the possible bastard of the current Imperial Archon

Let’s start with the similarities in their designs

Serpent theme: This is less visible in Radonis’ design compared to Neve. Aside from the collars and his staff, there isn’t much to talk about. However, in the illustration of Archon Darinius, we see that he has a snake’s head on his headpiece, which does give out the idea that Archons have some sorts of relation to the serpent theme.

Teal color: Radonis wears a full teal outfit, and we can also see that Darinius has teal accent in his as well. I guess we can say that teal is something to associate with the Archon, or at the very least, Tevinter itself. One of Neve’s alternative outfits, the one that concept art Neve wore, actually made it into the game, and you can see that it is a full teal outfit, just like Radonis. I would like to say that the design is quite clean cut, and it gives out the impression of someone from the upper classes - quite the opposite to her default one.

Also, their faces, guys! That DNA test is coming out at 99.9% /j

Next I’ll move onto Neve’s tarot card. This section is actually more concrete than the designs’ similarities to be honest.

The background: The Archon’s Palace can just mean that they are in Minrathous, but then it is also, well, the place the Archon lives and reigns. Having a blood moon that indicates changes can be read as “the changes are coming to Tevinter” or more specifically, the Archon himself.

The shadow: Here I will break it into smaller points

I mention that the shadow is quite similar to an Arcane Horror, except that this Arcane Horror is holding a staff. Now, throughout the last three games, all the Arcane Horror we have encountered use their bare hands to cast magic. Why? Because they don’t need a catalyst to focus on to channel their magic into; they are demons! So seeing one with a staff means that it has to be different somehow. More intelligent, more powerful? Someone like the Archon himself?

It’s not just the presence of the staff, but also the design of it that is questionable. You can see that there are some types of scales near the head - it kinda reminds you of a dragon/snake’s head. Radonis’ staff has three heads instead of one, but then, I don’t expect Bioware to actually put a copy of his staff in here when these cards are more about symbolisms. Maybe this is his staff after being corrupted?

My favorite finding really, and I’m quite proud of this. Note how the orb of Neve’s staff is positioned right at the center of the shadow’s chest. In Heroes of Dragon Age, Radonis had an orb of the exact location. In Magekiller, however, the orb has been discarded, but there is still this empty space that is of the orb’s shape. Certainly something to consider.

Neve: This is based on vibes only, but you can feel like Neve is waiting for the shadow to come. Why? Is this somebody she knows?

This is more of a personal tidbit but from Vows and Vengeance episode 1, we know that Neve has made quite a lot of enemies in the Magisterium for how much she knows about the Magisters and their shady business. So just how come she is still alive? I know that she is a talented mage, but let’s be honest, if any of those Magisters wants her dead, I don’t expect her to stay alive that long, or even just live normally in Minrathous. I’ll say that there’s an external factor here, someone trying to keep her alive. But then, who has the power to do so except for the person above these Magisters?

And how interesting would it be if this is true? The lowborn bastard who doesn’t believe in the superiority of mages and the mighty Archon who rules over with magic, both fighting for their visions of Tevinter.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #datv #neve gallus #radonis

10 notes · View notes

celestiaras · 4 months ago

Text

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ i can only see your face when i close my eyes ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ art by @/mo_9x9 ˚₊ ⊹

ft. pomu rainpuff x f! reader — lazulight, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ there’s not a moment when you don’t ache for her┊0.8k words

contains: angst!! established relationship, mourning & depression, pomu is dead but you don't know

➤ author's note: my cousin asked if it’s really been six months since she graduated…

you feel like you’re weightless and floating among the clouds, barely able to feel the faint sensation of the sand between your toes and the afternoon sun gleaming all around you. despite being almost blinding and requiring you to squint your eyes, it doesn’t shine as bright as her beaming smile as she runs into the ocean. her locks spun from gold flow freely in the breeze as she splashes some water at you, beckoning you to join her in the cool dark teal waters to escape from the heat and laughing infectiously when you do before pushing her over.

her iridescent wings flutter gently to shake off the droplets caught on them, casting faint rainbows in their wake with what you swore were sparkles with them. the iconic green fabric headband with embroidered white crosses and swirls stitched into patterns almost like a halo atop her head. you question for the thousandth time since the first time you met her if she was really a forest fairy or an angelic being that ascended from the heavens.

there’s not another soul in sight, perks of having a fairy lover who knows all the best spots. a secret little cove next to a mountain range too difficult for humans to climb, only accessible through a hidden passageway that only a handful of magic folk knew about. there didn’t need to be anyone else. even if you two were the only people in the world for the rest of your lives, you would never tire of the other’s presence whether you were doing the most strenuous activities or sitting in silence with separate occupations.

slathering sunscreen on the other’s sun-kissed skin, building sandcastles, playing volleyball, swimming with the little schools of fish, laying under umbrellas with novels in hand— hours of endless fun until the horizon was painted with shades of pink, orange, and indigo. if there was a heaven and you were allowed past the pearly gates, you’re certain that daily life would be just like today: full of happiness by her side.

you were supposed to be back at the hotel an hour earlier with plans to attend the new year’s festival, so it began a little race to run back, filled with giggles and the chirps of crickets in the humid air (as carefully as possible because neither of you wanted to trip and fall over) to claim the shower first. she’s a bit faster than you with her advantage of flying, but she’ll tell you to join her anyway to bathe together with a suggestive comment about how cute you look in your bikini before you swat at her shoulder and climb in.

wearing traditional cultural clothing, holding sparklers with the fire nicking your hands, buying treats from street vendors, exchanging knowing glances when you’re mistaken for a cute pair of friends instead of a couple— hours of endless fun until the dark night sky was bursting with bright, colorful fireworks. you and pomu exchange a tender kiss, looking into her reddish-brown eyes and feeling yourself falling for her all over again before she pulls you into another one. time seemed to slow until you parted your lips as she grabbed your wrist, telling you that the night wasn’t over yet and there was still so much more food she wanted to taste from the stalls.

you don’t think you’ll ever love another the way you loved her.

now you lay in your bed going through the dozens of pictures you took that night, a good mix of pretty shots that were posted on socials and chaotic blurs of comedic moments. the clock on your bedside table red “2:08am” in glowing red letters, and you wondered if she already knew that she would disappear a few weeks later. tears are streaking down your face and blurring your sight, shutting off your phone and resting your arms over your eyes.

it’s been roughly six months since she vanished without a word, making you wonder if she knew that new year’s night she would be gone in a few weeks. the date of your third year anniversary has already passed, and you feel slightly bitter— but mostly sorrowful— knowing that you could have been eating cake with her and friends to celebrate. you’ve barely left the house since and leave most messages unanswered even though they reach out weekly, feeling directionless and unable to remember life before you met the fairy.

the spot next to you is empty as is your heart. you get out of bed and crack open an energy drink, going through another sleepless night throwing yourself in work and hobbies. you don’t care if you crash and suffer with a splitting headache in the morning, anything is better than mourning her disappearance every time you close your eyes and try to put your mind at rest.

you feel like you’re being watched by a ghost again, but brush it off as just sleep deprivation or your brain trying to make sense of the loneliness that you fear will never go away.

#📜. her works #pomu rainpuff #pomu rainpuff x reader #lazulight #lazulight x reader #nijisanji #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji en x reader

18 notes · View notes

gatheringbones · 2 years ago

Note

hi bones! for life/education/employment reasons I will probably be moving to seattle in a year or so. if you have the spoons and inclination, i'd welcome any advice for someone who wants to do right by hir new community/city but also wants to take care of hirself. (and/or just advice for moving to seattle in general!) i'm a neurodivergent, white, mentally ill butch lesbian, if that affects the advice any. thanks for all the incredible book excerpts and writing thoughts you post!

there’s a breakfast place in Fremont called Roxie’s that does latkes instead of english muffins in their benedicts and where you can get an amazing reuben.

there’s also a Cuban sandwich joint called Paseo’s up the hill where you can get an extremely messy and life changing sandwich. god willing there’s still a Mexican sushi place in Wallingford right down the block from Changes the gay bar.

carry change with you and give it to anyone who asks and remember their face, remember where you saw them, place them on a mental map in a way that reinforces their worth as a full and complete human being. if you don’t have change you apologize with intention. you will have some next time. never offer to substitute food for change; this is a terrible insult.

there’s a queer library at a queer community center called Gay City in Capitol Hill where you can sit and read and check out books and access other community services like therapy and social support.

pay attention to the caste system at work wherever you go in seattle. It’s ever-present and exerts constant psychic force on everyone inside city limits. the people who the city refuses to house or treat flock there because seattle technically offers many services for help and healing, but these services have been allowed to exist in a state of complete overwhelm for decades by city officials who support and value the caste system. the mad the sick and the unhoused are meant to float through third and pine and westlake and the waterfront for the Real people to practice dissociating from. this perpetual dissociation colors the whole city. everyone is complicit. everyone swears not to know what they know and see what they see. everyone receives patient conditioning to sort and categorize the shapes they see moving through the city of seattle as human or inhuman and resisting this conditioning will require all of your attention and insight. you will be asked at every second to betray yourself.

read the archives of the view from Nathan’s bus

read about the Duwamish. go down and buy something from the woodcarvers by the ferris wheel. know that the canoes and masks and religious items inside the restaurant next door were hand carved by a white conservative guy who bought a bunch of books on coastal Salish art and copied as best he could.

there is queer community. the lesbian book club that changed the trajectory of my life isn’t the only one. if you have it in you to look for opportunities and spaces to be around the bodies you need to survive, you will find them.

do not wear headphones while out and about unless absolutely necessary. you need to be able to be spoken to.

go watch the sunset at fremont peak park and if you feel absolutely overwhelmed and alien in the world know that a twenty two to twenty eight year old version of me is sitting somewhere behind you and to your left. look out for a blonde cat and the dinosaur village.

don’t call the cops.

77 notes · View notes

hummingbird-games · 2 years ago

Text

2022 IN REVIEW (VN/INDIE GAMES EDITION)

(Missed last year’s?? Check me out!!)

This year had lots of personal high highs and lower lows, so I’m glad I had games to distract from things 😂Without further ado, here’s my year in review:

DEMOS

Pivot of Heart - I’m unsure of the current status of this one, but I played it earlier this year and fell in love with the MC, the art, and was intrigued by the tarot inspired gameplay!

My Alien Roommate - I will 100% be supporting the Kickstarter the MOMENT it’s live. I was actually upset when I reached the end of the demo knowing good and well it was only a demo so that’s how you know I had a fun time 🤣 also, how can you not wanna romance an alien?? That’s what I thought.

Our Life Now and Forever - On one hand, if you’re plugged into the VN scene, you’re already aware of this game and there’s no need for me to draw attention to it. On the other hand, to quote Billie Stevenson, “I do what I want.”

Infinite Blue - Oh man did I have fun with this one! To say I’m excited for the full game is an understatement! (review for this one is on the blog too btw)

Error143 - Seeing people simp for Micah Yujin has added 10 years to my life because a dark-skinned love interest getting THIS much attention??? Players be ready to risk it all for him and I love it. Also yeah he has my attention too, I am not immune, TF you thought this was???☠️

Garden of Seif - I’m not much help in selling this game because I just straight up inhaled it?? Everything was on point, from the characters, to the unraveling story, to our LIs and supporting cast, and of course, can’t love a game with loving the MC (at least, that’s how I work)

Fully Released & Played (at least 1 playthrough)

Gilded Shadows - The brain rot for this game is so real??? So. Damn. Real. It got to a point where after I played so many routes and unlocked multiple endings that I had to stop playing so I could work on my game! And there’s still content on the way?????? Oh to live at the same time as GS 🤗

Sifting Thyme - I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t my favorite high school otome game. And I thought long and hard about the many other games I’ve played. And I have played a lot of high school romance/dating sim games ☠️ But this one takes the cake!!--and because food is involved, pun intended. If I could have played this in one sitting I totally would have.

An Everyday Love - Check the tags on this blog. I never shut up about this game. Seriously.

Butterfly Soup 2 - Sequel’s only been out for like 2 months and I’m already begging for a third.

Blanket Cat & Teacup - The first is a cozy visual novel that gives storybook/ younger me watching Reading Rainbow vibes, and the second is a puzzle, point and click narrative about an introverted frog girl who needs to get tea ingredients for her party, and both these games reminded me of the healing power of gaming.

Still Shinning - Simply and lovely in its execution. I need to check out this dev’s other titles as well!

Portrait of a Texas Family - If you play no other games on this list, play this one. I don’t have any better words other than “I love it” and “this family and their love and their worry stick with you”.

Dusk & Dawn - SFHJSHFJSEJE THIS WAS SO GOOD LIKE WHAAA??? Black female MC, demi rep, superheroes, 2 dating options, multiple endings/dead ends, ughhh this game had it all. The only thing stopping it from being perfect is a sequel. And no, there’s no announced sequel so we can sulk together...

Fully Released (& still on 1st playthrough)

Wylde Flowers - I suck at farming sims in general, but this game has a special place in my heart. It’s the definition of charming + cozy and it was made to be played in bed so shoutout to the Switch port!!

ValiDate: Struggling Singles in your Area - I want to go in depth about this game when I’ve played all or majority of the routes, but for now just know I also believe this game was made for playing in bed LOL.

Gemi’s Gushies

(a list within a list of games that have devs trucking along in the background and I want to spotlight for y’all)

Band Camp Boyfriend

Ise and Kai

The Closet Door

Herotome

College Craze

Trouble Comes Twice

#gamedev rambles #game recommendations #visual novels #indie games #Happy Holidays #guess we're making this a yearly thing???#game reviews #this is not an exhaustive list btw!!#just the ones I reeealllly wanted to highlight lol #gaming year in review

50 notes · View notes

shockersalvage · 2 years ago

Text

Danganronpa Gaiden: Killer Killer Rewrite

Heyo! To those reading this, this is basically how I would have handled Killer Killer if it was kept in the same 14 chapter set-up it had. Not sure if I said it here, but to make things explicit I genuinely think of out of the Hope’s Peak Academy saga of the franchise, Killer Killer is the very worst of it in terms of how it handles it story and world. Yes, even more than Danganronpa 3 in that regards.

I love its art and Killer Killer is chalked full of great concepts, but it kind of feels as if the writing leaned too far into the ‘CrAzInEsS’ of the Danganronpa world...and kinda forgetting that as wacky as it can be, even Danganronpa’s story (especially in regards to the games) still held itself to a set of (well, I can’t say realistic) a grounded world. DR3 also has that problem, but that’s for another time.

Now, going into this, I swore to one thing: I can not outright get rid of any cast members the manga introduces. I can tweak concepts and story elements, but if the series wants a mad bomber Ultimate, I can’t get rid of the mad bomber Ultimate. Personally, I’m of the belief that it’s better to fix something wrong than just outright get rid of it

NOTE: This does not serve as a replacement ot the RE: Killer Killer I am working on. Think of this like another AU meant to serve well with the another rewrite I’m working on.

Chapter One

Honestly, no real changes to the first chapter. It serves as a pretty decent way to introduce both Misaki and Takumi, as well as the twist of Takumi being Killer Killer. Now, the one thing I will tweak is the 1st serial killer’s motivation.

Momomichi Ito…hoo boy. I feel as thought they were trying way too hard to show he’s ‘CRAZZZZZY’ and over the top, which kinda hurts when he’s the first villain of the week we’re supposed to see to get used to this new world way of doing things. So for him, I’d make it so that the people he killed were critics of his show, ranging from religious extremists to just your average music reviewer. Make him a vain narcissist that sees himself as the second coming of Maizono’s group and the music industry…and go ballistic when people think his work isn’t perfect. No need to have be some off the rocker for a motive that really doesn’t mesh well at all….

And yeah, no giant syringe of fucking blood. He does get a syringe, but its a normal one for knocking people out with sedatives.

For his murders, I also think he’d be the type to bully his backstage crew into doing the grunt work for his set-up so himself isn’t suspected too much. As for how he gets caught, I kind of like to think that the same warning message he used to send to Future Foundation, would be in the same style he uses for an autograph. On that note, this gives Takumi some legitimate detective prowess than his ‘sixth sense’ the manga keeps using to explain how he suddenly knows whose a killer or not. Because that never gets old!~ Hah…

Chapter Two:

Now, time for the real changes!~ Rei, whose in silhouette at the start, is in her hideout and she winds up receiving an envelope on her table. Inside is a photo of her misdeeds and a note saying that if she doesn’t go after Killer Killer, she will be exposed. With her hand forced, she blatantly kills her next victim at Ongo Hospital.

In this version, Rei kills her victims in her forest hideout, using them like in canon as parasite hotels. In this version, her parasites don’t fuse to become a giant monster and resemble…well actual parasites instead of those weird monsters. Takumi, and eventually, Misaki suspects her, when its found that the records for those who did the surgery/check-up on the victim was lost due to an accident with Rei. While Rei does sic her parasites on Takumi, with claims that she can’t be killed by them due to her modifying such parasites to recognize her as one, she’s ultimately killed when Takumi ends up splashing blood from one of her victims on her. The parasites devour her alive and her body is found by Future Foundation forces that eventually discover her location from their own separate investigation.

Mekuru’s introduction has her apart of a B-plot with Misaki trying to bond with her, since Takumi is in the hospital. Ultimately, its their shared desire of seeing evil stopped that allows them to work together. In this rewrite, Mekuru’s Drowsing Deduction requires information before she can give an accurate lead - with both finding out Rei’s hideout on their own. As a side nugget of info, its also revealed that Rei’s parasitolgy research was also being funded a bit by some organization.

The blackmailer of Rei is disappointed, but not really surprised that she failed. Ultimately, he surmises from such information that in order to further his plan, instead of an ordinary killer…he’ll have to hire some whose more of an Ultimate - pulling up information on a certain fireworks artist.

Chapter 3:

We see Ted Chikatilo confronting our blackmailer whose in the shadows. He wants to know why the heck an Ultimate like himself should even bother taking on Killer Killer, especially since he never ran into that serial killer before. In this Ted is the owner of the serial killing gambling and is enjoying making his profit in secret.

In response, the Villain shows him the potential extra moolah, he could gain from hosting a show featuring the elusive serial killer and the notoriety that can be gained as well. Plus, if he plays his cards right, he can both beat Killer Killer and wipe out a good portion of the Sixth Division of Future Foundation. Something that can get Ted to be favored by a certain organization. The last part is what gets Ted’s interest and he begins plotting

Concerning the plot with Eiichiro, its pretty much the same - though his corpse is used by Takumi as a fee for entering the serial killer gambling. Albeit, he’s disguised, with Takumi himself wearing a cloak and the Sparkling Justice mask from DR2 that he stole from Eiichiro. In his hands is a poster for Killer Killer as the main event in serial killing gambling.

Chapter 4:

In this chapter, Future Foundation gains knowledge of the Killing Festival being hosted at Tify Ariake Arena this time. The Foundation has heard about the event for months, but given its secrecy and how it never has a set location, they haven’t had much luck in regards to stopping them. Not wanting to give a Death Game any sort of support given the fiasco with Junko’s game, they make plans to do a raid to arrest everyone involved in the Festival.

In this case, Juzo and Takumi are to pose as Killer Killer and Juzo as a Ted Chikatilo copycat (IDK call him Ned Bikatilo or something XD). Likewise, to sell the illusion of them being legit killers they were supposed to use dummy corpses created by the Ultimate Make-up Artist…granted, Takumi sell his guise later by using Eiichiro’s corpse which he never quite discloses to his comrades.

For Misaki, given how this is her first official raid, her nerves are on her. Especially given how this Festival raid has her finally meeting Juzo. This is operations is a co-op between Juzo’s Special Forces and Special Crime Unit. She also gets to see first hand how he treats the leader of his Special Forces, Kenji Tsuruhashi…namely by yelling at him and threatening him to get on with things during their meeting. With Mekuru’s Drowsing Deduction after getting information on the arena’s layout, they plan on quietly neutralizing the Festival’s security while the audience is distracted with Juzo and Takumi’s fighting. Afterward, they would surround the audience via the arena’s entrances and quickly captured them. With the majority of the people corralled and exits blocks, any stragglers can be hunted down and taken in without too much resistance.

Given the role Takumi is playing, in addition to her prior experiences with Killer Killer, Misaki is both concerned over his safety…and partially suspicious. Though, she tries to dismiss it as being impossible. That being said, she does wish to apprehend Killer Killer for essentially ruining justice properly for their past cases.

When the plan goes off, it initially seems as if they will have a clean run through of their operations, with security going down fairly easily. A bit…too easily? During Juzo and Takumi’s match, Ted’s voice on an intercom interrupts to announce to the crowd both’s affiliation with Future Foundation…and how the the place was filled to the brim with such opposition! Before the squads knew it, metal doors shut down on the exits. Effectively sealing them in with an audience full of pissed off onlookers and criminals.

It’s then that Ted appears on television to announce this ultimatum: to the audience, they have to kill every last Future Foundation personnel in the building…or else he’ll blow up the entire building with bombs that he planted all around the arena.

Chapter 5:

Given the events of last chapter, Future Foundation is in a fight for their lives as the crowds begin fighting for their lives. It’s this chapter where we see Future Foundation’s specialized paralysis ammo they use in their firearms, as well as the fighting prowess of both Ikue Dogami and Juzo. While the cast is doing their best, they are gradually beginning to get overwhelmed and the knowledge of the time limit is clearly on their minds.

Ultimately, they decide to split off. With Mekuru’s Deduction, she, Dogami and some others will go off to look for the probably locations of the bombs. Juzo and most of his Special Forces will fight against the audience to both apprehend them and give the others time. Misaki, Takumi and Kenji are tasked with heading to the upper levels of the arena to look for Ted.

As they head up the arena’s stairs towards the rooftop, both Misaki and Takumi are discussing how bizarre it was that the enemy somehow knew they were coming, especially since this was a top secret mission that most shouldn’t be aware of outside the Future Foundation forces in play. Takumi half-jokes that their’s a traitor in their midst, something that gets Kenji and Misaki to tell him to quit playing about.

When they check into one of the rooms nearby the top, see the Republic’s of Lamieca’s Defense Secretary dead. They assume he was a backer of the Festival, but the fact such a high profile figure was dead here was going to cause problems once this was over. During the inspection of the corpse, Kenji makes an off-hand commented on the exact amount the SoD gave to the Festival…

Which gets both Misaki and Takumi to wonder how the hell does he know that. With the gig up, Kenji is forced to reveal he was the traitor that helped lure the division into this trap. In exchange for leaving with Ted prior to the explosives being set off and givine the bomber info on their plan, Kenji could finally kill Juzo for treating him like shit. When they ask about the SoD, Kenji explains it was insurance so to speak. On the offhand Juzo did survive, the loss of the SoD, ontop of losing most of his personnel in this raid, woudl no doubt earn the public’s ire and calls for him to resign.

Misaki is enraged at such a corrupt figure being on the force and tells Takumi to go on ahead whilst she deals with him. This is meant to give Misaki her own moment, as wel las strengthen her beliefs in dishing out proper justice. Being a platoon head, though, Kenji is quite strong. Yet, his arrogance and short temper leaves him wide open for Misaki to get a good shot on him, stunning him enough to be apprehended.

With Kenji defeated, the scene transitions to Ted and Takumi’s own matter which plays out similarly to how it was in chapter 5 of the manga.

Chapter 6:

This plays roughly out how it is in the manga. Misaki catches up with both Takumi and Ted, but Ted is using his mesmerizing fireworks. Only real key difference is that he reveals a tidbit on how he should thank ‘that person’ for getting him to go against Killer Killer and inspiring his new motivation. That is, to get the Remnants of Despair to rally and continue spreading chaos with a Director of Future Foundation dead. Ted himself is not an Ultimate Despair, but he does value their work and wants to ensure that chaos is the dominant force in the DR world. He had hoped that if he pulled off his plan, it would impress such an organziation to both allow him formally into the upper class of their organization (not like the unfocused Monokuma masked mob that’s piling about) and continue making more frightening shows with their backing.

Same as in the current story, Ted is killed by his own fireworks and Takumi feigns as if he was still brainwashed as Misaki to avoid her finding out about the truth of Killer Killer. However, upon learning that Killer Killer was the one to beat Ted, she vows even more to apprehend them. The corruption of her colleague just re-igniting her desire to stop evil a ‘helpful’ killer like Killer Killer. From there, we learn that the others managed to find and disarm the explosives, whilst the surviving audience were all arrested. As for Kenji, however, he had disappeared.

Still, Munakata is impressed with the Festival being effectively over. In addition, with learning Killer Killer still had no possibility of despair, he ows his Foundation won’t crumble. Kyoko also asks about Shuji, same in canon. At his hideout, Shuji happily is sitting in his locker…whilst Kenji is found, tied up and unconscious on the floor.

Chapter 7:

The plot plays out fairly similar to main storyline. Key difference is Mimiko is inspired to ‘duel’ Killer Killer after recieving an anonymous tip from the Villain, and believing that if she can beat him then she can protect her Kinari with no issue. Naturally, she fucking dies for her attempt via beheading, but it should be noted Takumi doing his whole ‘one knife slices apart the fucking building’ shtick is absent in this. Coolness is no excuse to break the world.

Like in the original, Misaki meets up with Shuji, who asks for help in stopping Takumi from being Killer Killer. Something that leaves her immensely shocked and taken aback.

Chapter 8:

I really love this chapter! Has to be one of my favorites from Killer Killer...which isn’t a super high bar to jump over XD The only notable changes I would make would be Mukuro being covered up instead of blatantly out in the open killing people (seriously, what was with both DR3 and DRG deciding that the duo that spearheaded the end of the world don’t know the meaning of ‘stealth’ and covert operations)?

Also some more clarification that such an attack happened prior to the UD girls enrollment in Hope’s Peak. Instead of both meeting outside the school like a couple of dopes, instead Mukuro is in some old building getting a radio message from her sister about how this job was just a ‘check-in’ of sorts.

Now, given how both boys at least recognize Mukuro, I would make it so that during the chaos, Mukuro’s mask is knocked away a bit. Takumi gets a good look at her…but given his psychological breakdown, his new mental state has him be appreciative of the ‘one who showed him the way’. In Shuji’s case, he barely gets a glimpse, but upon watching the Killing Game years later, he learns of her identity and reacts in horror upon who made him just one of two survivors.

In this version, Misaki is more visibly in shock and denial. Logically, Takumi being Killer Killer would make sense with the irregularities of the prior cases…but at this point she had become really attached to her partner. Tension rising as it turns out Takumi was hiding in a box behind them...and they overhear how Mukuro Ikusaba was on the loose.

Final Arc (Chapter 9 - 14):

Now the final Killer Killer arc: honestly, I don’t think it needs too much in terms of rewriting to be made solid I feel? Personally, I think this most of this last stretch just needs some more depth to make it work more…………and you all know what’s getting a major cut-out in the final chapter.

For the Ikusaba invasion, from the get-go have it be explained that these Mukuro attackers are just female Remnant of Despair cultists of her trying to imitate her. They romanticised her as a martyr and got plastic surgery from somwhere on the black market to look more like their idol, so they could continue ‘her wish’ right.

After their defeat, we get Misaki tearfully accepting the truth that Takumi is Killer Killer and she gets stabbed by Shuji. Shuji then explains his motives, with the nice handy bonus that he sent Rei, Ted, Mimiko and the Ikusaba Cultists all after Takumi in order to scare him into giving up being Killer Killer. From there, we get the scenes where he’s chased off and it transitions into the hospital with Mekuru and Misaki.

Now, Mekuru! You know how DRG said she and Takumi met before, but never went into detail why? Well, we have her finally explain her story. On how she was all alone during the Tragedy and was about to be killed by some Remnants before Takumi killed them. In addition, he even escorted her to safety...which is how he met Ikue Dogami. It’s why she holds trust in him despite being such a notorious killer. Considering the despair she’s feeling from essentially declaring herself the one to apprehend Killer Killer…only to get stabbed with the awful truth, this is something that helps get her out of her funk a deal.

Of course, we then move on to hearing about Shuji’s killing game. You know that guy Shuji killed to prove he’s Killer Killer…except when you think about it doesn’t really prove anything. He just kinda stabbed him, no real indicator of his crimes or proof. Well, Kenji takes his place, with Shuji showcasing the recording of him murdering the DF Secretary. Tears in his eyes, Kenji pleads for his life but he’s murdered. This, of course, would piss Juzo off something fierce. Now, concerning the bomb threat Shuji also made, perhaps have him detonate one in some random part of Japan. As means to show that, yes, even the bombs he stole were legitimate and real.

From there, the manga continues as usual. Takumi and Misaki try to survive against both the FF guards, panicked public and other Remnants being shits. Now, before I continue, I have to address the scene with Tengan in Chapter 11…and how he has Despairful eyes. Which is a good indicator that he likely watched the Despair Video and is brainwashed by it…

*closes old man Jenkins eyes*

Nope! Sorry! Fuck that! Someday I’ll show the other one I’m working on, but I can say that Tengan being likely kbrainwashed is not a thing here. He’s still an extremist, mind you, but he doesn’t need to watch a video to go that far. We stan wrecks that can be wrecks by themselves in this…bloghold?

Anywho, the fight between Takumi and Shuji is mostly unchanged. They get their big showdown and…okay, I can’t put this off for much longer.

The Recapitation….

What I consider to tbe the single greatest fucking sin in this series is next…the amount of hatred I have for it is immense. Everyhing wrong with Killer Killer can be summed up in the above. In Danganronpa, every other series, if a characters get their throat slashed...they die. The series has always been consistent with how fatal its injuries can be for its cast since, while most are Ultimates, they are also human. It grounds them. But here!? NOPE! Fuck how it works usually! Takumi can decapitate someone and they suffer no injuries because, for whatever reason, the writers thought it was a good idea to have their story not give a damn about the rules!! Arghhhhhhhh... But that begs the question:

What the hell can it be replaced with?

Well, I think the answer is fairly simple. As a way of admitting defeat, Shuji tosses the control switch for the collar. No bullshit neck severing/reattaching. Just a man who tried his damndest to change someone’s view, in his dying moments, fully accepting such a path in life and giving up their ambitions. No bullshit ‘it was that clean’ nonsense! Just a good way to tie up Shuji’s arc further and have it be that. Okay? Okay.

Minor notes before I continue, the panels of Munakata seeing the Remnants is getting tweaked so that he sees potentially gets glimpses of some of their features, but nothing concrete. Because both DR3 and DRG kinda forgot about the whole ‘Remnants identities aren’t supposed to be revealed to FF until after Makoto’s NWP is in motion. Well, sorta. DR3 did bring it up in the Despair Arc finale as to why they were faking their deaths…….except Future’s Arc first episode contradicts that with showing blatantly out in the open and attacking the Directors. Ugh...just, don’t think too hard on it.

Anyways, with the worst of the story out, we can safely transition into the both of Takumi and Misaki having their Super Lovers Suicide without error!~ A nice rather happy ending for these two lovebirds!~

Overall

What this aimed to fix were several things

1. Make the cast abilities be more grounded in reality/not-so bullshit and be more logical. This is a manga centered about a group of detectives, have them showcase more of said skill instead of just going by ‘intuition’ and even have the their broken side of them toned down or given a logical buffer. Such as Mekuru’s deductions needing information so she can give an accurate reading. Stuff like that helps make it feel as if the cast aren’t OP tools, but still humans like the rest.

2. Give focus to concepts/cast that lack it and help bring them in closer ot the narrative. Sorry to say, but the villain of the week idea really didn’t help the manga much for me. One too many chapters just feel like filler or wasted concepts that had a lot of intrigue to them. By having a deal more of the villains be essentially mercenaries sent after Takumi by Shuji or connecting them with others concepts to give both more depth, I felt it would have made things better narratively. For example, I love Ted’s design and the concept of a rogue Ultimate is great...but he kinda just...doesn’t really do much? Or seem to much connected with things? Doesn’t help he really doesn’t have him a motivation for what he’s doing unlike the other villains. I lvoe the idea of killer gambling...but its just kinda thrown in without much care. So, why not combine the two? Have him be a sadistic greedy showman who wants profit and eventually infamy for his handiwork, with the Festival being a way he makes his dough.

3. Crazy does not equal genius - it needs to go. Sorry to any of you who enjoyed the over to the top insanity the manga brought...but it needs to go. I already went into my loathing of the Recapitation, but from the parasite monsters weird designs and fusio to Shuji’s skills becoming more bullshit by cutting a damn roof in half just.....no. No. Its uneeded. Craziness can be allowed, but you need to be thoughtful with it and use it wisely. Why isn’t Sakura busting down the walls of the Academy? Because being the Strongest Human still doesn’t mean you can do whatever the fuck you want and the games recognize that. Which is why its baffling that the manga doesn’t and decides cutting off roofs with a small ass knife is a-okay!!? Ugh...

Anyways, hope you all enjoyed this! It was fun thinking of these fixes!~

23 notes · View notes