#and insincere and only for one off plots | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deunmiu-dessie · 8 months ago

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ⅷ▬ ⁽ 𝒶𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓃 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₈˖₅ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : unedited, plot, alien/human, fluff, nim'xen is a simp, he falls first and then falls harder. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : no smut, but! a cute little unfinished one-shot of mine.

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: on the way home from the store, the unthinkable happens.

꒰male!alien ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

“Breaking News: Massive Asteroid Comes Dangerously Close to Earth, Scientists Unaware Until Hours Later.

In a stunning turn of events, a colossal asteroid, previously known as ZTFoDxQ but now identified as Asteroid QG, narrowly missed colliding with Earth. The planet-sized asteroid made its closest-known approach to our planet on Sunday at 12:08 a.m. EDT, coming within a mere 1,830 miles. This remarkable event marks the closest asteroid flyby ever recorded, where the celestial object managed to survive the encounter unscathed, as confirmed by NASA.

However, the surprises didn't end there. Just this afternoon at 1:00 p.m., reports have emerged that a fragment of the asteroid has broken off and penetrated Earth's atmosphere. The exact location of impact is currently being evacuated as a precautionary measure.

Scientists are scrambling to analyze the data and understand how such a massive asteroid managed to come so close to Earth without being detected until hours later. The lack of awareness has raised concerns about the effectiveness of current asteroid detection systems and the potential risks posed by near-Earth objects.

NASA and other space agencies around the world are now working to improve their monitoring and detection capabilities to prevent similar surprises in the future. The incident has also sparked discussions about the need for increased funding and resources for asteroid detection and deflection efforts.

As the world watches in awe and relief at the near miss, the incident serves as a stark reminder of the potential dangers lurking in space and the importance of continued vigilance in monitoring the skies for potential threats. Stay tuned for further updates on this developing story.”

3 months later

“Can you do me a favor, sweetheart?”

Interrupting your peeling, you raised your eyes from the bowl of potatoes, freezing the peeler in your hand. You cast a frustrated glance at her, your annoyance thinly veiled behind a strained smile. You were already handling most of the cooking for the evening, so what more could she want from you?

Interpreting your insincere smile as a signal of agreement, she resumed her task of tending to the bubbling broth on the stove, deftly chopping the carrots and watching them plunge into the savory liquid with a satisfying plop. "Your sister's going on a trip tomorrow and I totally spaced on getting her food. She likes turkey right? I'll just throw together a sandwich for her."

A soft snicker escaped you as the peeler slipped from your hand and plunged into the water-filled bowl. You shifted your attention towards her, trying to decipher if she was genuinely serious or not. Yet, as you locked eyes with her, she responded with an arched eyebrow and an inquisitive grin.

"Jess has a poultry allergy, Mom."

The woman paused briefly, inhaling deeply to gather her thoughts. As she glanced up at you, she shifted her hip to the side. Her apologetic expression seemed somewhat contrived. "Of course, I should have remembered. I'm sorry, honey."

It was understandable that the woman might eventually forget. She wasn't the one who hurriedly took Jess to the hospital when she had her first experience with it, she wasn't the one who remained by the girl's side day and night, eagerly waiting for her to regain consciousness. But you were. You were Jess's first in everything. You had always been there for her, so it's only natural that the bond between the two of you grew strong. You knew all about her allergies, her preferences, her school crushes— you felt like more of a mother to her than her biological one.

"Whatever. I'll pack her lunch."

You swivel the chair and slide off of it. "The blue card, right?" As she nods her head absentmindedly, almost as if she's in a daze, you leave the kitchen with a frown etched on your face.

Snatching your keys from the hook, you hastily slide into your gym shoes, relieved that you hadn't bothered changing your clothes. You stand at the bottom of the stairs and shift your weight. "Jess! I'm going to the store, do you want anything?!" You delve into your mom's purse, sifting through the chaotic contents until you locate her wallet and retrieve the blue card food stamp card.

After a brief silence, her bedroom door swings open and she rushes towards the railing, a bright smile on her face. " Ice cream? Shark week came and I've been really craving strawberry ice cream." You give a nod and quickly retrieve your jacket from the closet. "Do you need any money for the trip tomorrow? I can take some out on my way back."

The young girl shakes her head, her eyes filled with adoration. You raise an eyebrow but still nod in understanding. Retrieving your phone from your pocket, you give it a gentle shake. "Text me if you need anything, but be quick about it." Without waiting for her response, you swiftly unlock the door and make your way onto the porch.

The sky is adorned with a delicate blend of pink and deep purple, gradually blending into the mysterious darkness of the night. A gentle breeze carries a subtle chill, but you embrace it without a word, wrapping your jacket tightly around your being. Swiftly, you navigate towards your vehicle, unlocking the door and sinking into the plush leather seat. A faint hint of smoke dances in the air, causing your nose to crinkle in response. Without hesitation, you lower the window, letting it air out.

As the smell dissipates you roll up the window and rub your hands together from the cold.

With a flick of a switch, the heat begins to flow, gradually filling the space and caressing your cheeks with a gentle warmth. The jacket you wear, once a shield against the chill, now threatens to make you feel almost too warm. With a contented smile, you leave the driveway behind and glide swiftly down the street, embraced by the cozy ambiance within.

As you embark on the drive, the radio remains silent, allowing your thoughts to drift away. Your thumb dances lightly on the steering wheel, lost in a world of its own. Deep down, you had already made up your mind to have Jess by your side once you left. There was no way your parents could take care of her, especially with what you've heard today.

Your job was well-paying and you had saved up to rent and secure a two-bedroom apartment at an astonishingly reasonable cost, despite its pristine condition. Nestled within a delightful community, the apartment stood conveniently close to Jess' school. Naturally, obtaining their consent would be imperative, yet even if they were to resist, you would unhesitatingly embark on a legal journey to assert your rights. Yet even if they were to resist, you would unhesitatingly them to court.

You wanted a better life for Jess, you wanted the rest of her remaining years of growth to unfold effortlessly. Your affection for her was so profound that witnessing her spiral, just as you had, while residing with your parents was simply inconceivable.

Startled by a gentle tap on your window, you were momentarily transported from the reverie you had been lost in while sitting in the Kroger's parking lot. Your mind had been wandering, lost in a sea of thoughts. With your heart pounding in your chest, you slowly shifted your gaze towards the source of the sound and cautiously opened the window, allowing a sliver of the outside world to seep in.

She was an elderly lady, much older than you, with a look of homelessness about her. Her shirt was stained and torn, her jeans in tatters, and her face covered in grime. You hesitated for a moment before offering her a warm smile and rolling down your window just a tad further.

"Hi, do you need something?"

As her murmurs dance in disarray, fragments of words manage to intertwine, and in a fleeting moment, a shiver cascades down your spine. " You're. . . Die. . . Tonight."

Her expression is vacant, her gaze distant, and the fidgety way she picks at her cuticles hints at her unease. Even though you feel a sense of discomfort, a strong urge to leave the parking lot doesn't overcome you. Instead, you reach into the glove compartment, retrieve a crumpled $20 bill, and gently pass it through the window.

You recoil in shock as she snatches it out of your hand, making sure to quickly wobble off. With your heart racing, you roll up the window and sink into the headrest, trying to soothe your jangled nerves. What the hell was that about? The only conclusion you can draw is that she must be a deranged old woman.

After finally catching your breath, you unlock your car door and slide out, card in hand. Gently inserting the blue plastic into the slot at the back of your phone case, you carefully place it in your pocket. The night had fallen, and you were eager to return to the comfort of your home.

You took a cart from the parking lot racks and pushed it inside, feeling the chill of the air as you entered the store. "Hmm, what should I pick up for Jess?"

—

"Jess! Mom! I'm home!" You set the bags onto the dining room table and wait there with a cocked hip. Within moments, Jess emerges from her room and descends the stairs in a flurry. A gentle smile adorns your face as you present the tub of delectable ice cream, relishing in the delightful sound of her joyful squeal.

"Ah! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" With a grateful smile, she plants a sweet kiss on your cheek and pulls you into a warm embrace. She then heads to the kitchen, excitedly searching through the drawer for a spoon. Your mother, already present in the kitchen, peeks out from behind the corner.

You notice her face contorting into a slight frown paired with a gentle smile. You recognize that look instantly, so you grab the car keys and smoothly slide the card off the table. Her eyes soften with regret as she passes you a tiny list. "It's just a few things, the ingredients for Jakiya's birthday cake that slipped my mind. Do you mind picking them up?"

You raised an eyebrow, lips pursed. "I don't necessarily have a choice, mom." Your mom huffed and rolled her eyes. "It's a simple yes or no question, don't be difficult." Despite your strained relationship with your mom, you made an effort to avoid arguments when Jess was present.

Speaking of which, Jess had stopped rummaging in the drawer, body strung tight like a bow. Your gaze softened as you released a weary, deep sigh. You were completely fed up with your parents' nonsense, but Jess shouldn't have to witness the constant fighting between the three of you.

With a gentle nibble on the tender flesh of your cheek, you gracefully acknowledged your mother's request, enveloping yourself in the comforting embrace of your jacket. "Sure mom, what do you need?"

A smile of gratitude adorned her face as she pushed a small list towards you. You grinned wryly as you snatched it, then swiftly headed towards the door. The sun had long set, plunging the world into darkness. The street lights flickered weakly, barely illuminating the empty streets.

Jess gazes at you as you prepare to depart, smiling guiltily. With a playful roll of your eyes, you silently express your affection, mouthing the words 'I love you' and blowing a tender kiss in her direction. Her nose scrunches up adorably, but her face lights up with a radiant smile as she reciprocates the gesture. As you steal a glance to the side, you catch sight of your mother observing the exchange, her eyes filled with a bittersweet longing.

"Text me if there's something else, I'm not going back out later." The words were directed towards Jess, but she dismissed them with a wave of her hand and reached for a large spoon from the drawer. Stepping outside, you were greeted by the refreshing embrace of the cool, crisp air, causing you to release a frustrated sigh. The sound of your keys jingled as you retrieved them from your pocket, pressing a button to unlock the car doors. With a swift motion, you hopped into the front seat and firmly closed the door behind you.

You wait impatiently as the engine sputters before shutting off. Resting your head on the steering wheel, you attempt a few more times before surrendering. Frustrated, you hit the dashboard and recline in your seat. If you were to go inside and inform your mom that the car wouldn't start, she'd make you walk anyway.

With a sigh escaping your lips, you swing open the door and slide from the seat locking the doors behind you. Embarking on your journey towards Kroger, you find yourself humming a gentle melody, adding a touch of serenity to your brisk pace towards the supermarket. The night envelops you in a tranquil embrace, yet the houses you pass by are alive with vibrant activity. As you stroll along, your gaze wanders towards the windows, offering glimpses into the lives unfolding within.

Some families are cooking while others are at the table already eating. Happiness danced in the air, casting its enchanting spell upon every corner. Yet, as you observed this idyllic scene, a twinge of envy tugged at your heartstrings. Growing up, you yearned for such a blissful atmosphere that seemed to elude you. At the tender age of nine, your parents bestowed upon you the title of maturity, deeming you wise beyond your years. And while, yes, you possessed a certain level of wisdom, it did not equate to being capable enough to care for your baby sister.

It fell upon you to fetch Jess from daycare and ensure a safe journey back home for the two of you. It was your responsibility to prepare meals for both of you after school. The weight of raising your four-year-old sister and yourself rested solely on your shoulders, as there was no one else to do it for you. Over time, the bond between both of you and your parents had weakened. They were seldom present, and when they were, disagreements ensued. You made an effort to keep the arguments hushed whenever Jess was around. She often blamed herself for the strained relationship between you, your mom, and your dad.

As you stroll along the dimly lit street, a sudden hush falls upon your heart as the echo of footsteps reaches your ears. Time seems to stand still, and for a fleeting moment, your heart skips a beat. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, you cling to a glimmer of hope, imagining that those footsteps might belong to a passerby, innocently treading the same path as you.

They draw nearer, their footsteps quickening. You swallow your trepidation, nearly stumbling as a man's voice pierces the air. "Excuse me!" His voice resonates with a deep, thunderous timbre, sending shivers down your spine. You flinch, but press on, hastening towards the bustling street where the glow of passing cars illuminates the pavement and towering structures. Towards the sanctuary of safety.

"Hey! I'm talking to you."

You're almost there. You start to jog a little but they've closed in a bit too much. Their presence looms closer, their energy palpable. Just as panic threatens to consume you, you part your lips to release a piercing scream, only to find that silence has enveloped the air.

A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of a bush, followed by a brief, hushed cry that fades into silence. The chirping of crickets has ceased, leaving a stillness that envelops the world. With uncertainty, you glance behind you and collapse to the ground as the two men have vanished. Gazing up at the night sky, the reflection in your eyes, you offer silent gratitude to whoever intervened and saved you in that fleeting moment.

You stand up and you resume your journey, eventually arriving at the bustling street. Though your legs falter when you notice the woman from earlier sitting on a bus stop bench. The impact of the $20 becomes evident as she savors a warm, nourishing meal, and her once weary eyes seem to be less bloodshot.

A part of you hesitates to pass by her, yet you dismiss that fleeting sense of unease and march towards her. It appears that she is also cautious of your presence, as her head swiftly turns towards you—almost as if she is just as cognizant of you as you are of her. Her gaze drifts beyond your shoulder and her eyes widen, a sheer terror reflecting in them. She abandons her meal, rises with some effort, clutches onto her bag, and hastens away.

Your brows knit together and you cast a glance over your shoulder, a whirlwind of bewilderment dancing in your gaze. There is no one lingering in the shadows and the surroundings appear undisturbed. Returning your attention to her path, you discover that she has vanished into thin air. A sense of unease settles within you as you resume your journey towards the store, diligently keeping a watchful eye on the space behind you.

—

The parking lot is nearly empty when you leave the store. Alongside you, a stream of tired employees bid farewell to their workday, their footsteps echoing in harmony with your own. Amid this scene, a message from Jess illuminates your phone, informing you that dinner has already been prepared. However, a bittersweet note lingers as their parents, driven by impatience, have chosen to indulge in the meal without your presence.

The girl had put you some food up and would eat with you when you got home. You tell her that it's fine and for her to go to sleep. She responds back with the middle finger emoji. You let out a soft laugh and gently tuck your phone away, resuming your journey back home. In moments like these, you can't help but appreciate the invaluable presence of your sister. She is the unwavering support that keeps you grounded, the guiding light that helps you navigate through life's challenges. It is because of her that you find the strength to persevere, even in the face of your parents' constant demands.

Raising Jess, despite its challenges, has molded you into the person you are now. A person who is dependable, always on time, patient, and strong-willed. You possess the remarkable ability to adapt swiftly and thrive in any endeavor you undertake. If your parents hadn't entrusted you with the responsibility of raising your sister, none of these remarkable qualities would have blossomed within you. Although it may be bittersweet, raising Jess has truly been a hidden blessing, concealed in the depths of life's mysteries.

As you hurriedly make your way home, you take a shortcut and find yourself in the dimly lit parking lot of a mysterious barber shop. Instantly, a wave of regret washes over you as you stumble upon a group of men engaged in some clandestine activity. Panic sets in, and you quickly decide to retreat. However, fate has other plans for you. In your haste, you accidentally collide with a solid chest, causing you to freeze in your tracks.

When you gather the courage to look up, you are met with a sight that leaves you breathless. Standing before you is a towering figure, adorned with intricate tattoos that seem to tell stories of their own. His pierced septum and eyebrow only add to his intimidating presence, and his annoyed expression sends shivers down your spine. As his eyebrows furrow, you can't help but do a double take at his striking attractiveness.

"Watch where you're going, woman." You nod in agreement and attempt to move aside, but a member of the group lets out a disrespectful whistle. Your body tenses as you try to keep walking, only to have your wrist grabbed by another individual. "Where do you think you're going? You're such a pretty little thing."

"I just want to get home. Please, let me go." Your attempt at a stern tone falters as your voice quivers and a hiccup escapes. Laughter fills the air, causing you to shrink back as if confronting a pack of wolves. Six of them.

The mysterious figure you collided with earlier firmly grasps the man who is restraining your wrist. " I don't have all fucking night Tyler. Either give me my shit, or I'm going to blow your brains across this goddamn lot."

The atmosphere suddenly becomes hushed, as if time itself holds its breath. A distant memory resurfaces, a conversation shared with your sister, where you both playfully pondered about how you would handle such a situation. Laughter filled the air as you jokingly mentioned pepper spray and karate moves. But now, in this very moment, fear grips your heart, rendering you utterly petrified.

Tyler releases his grip on you, causing a small, trembling breath to escape your lips. "Jesus, Dom. I was just joking," he says nervously, glancing at his friends for support. A few chuckle while others remain silent.

Dom gazes at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Go. Before I change my mind." Despite the stern tone, there is a softness in his eyes that reassures you. You thank him profusely and speed walk away from the group.

The moment you thought you were making headway, the piercing screams and the thunderous gunshots shatter the night's calmness. Time seems to stand still as the world around you falls into an eerie silence once again. With a lump in your throat, you quicken your pace, feeling the weight of tears welling up in your eyes.

This couldn't possibly be the end for you. It simply couldn't. You still had a duty to care for your sister, to provide her with a better life than you ever had. You longed to shield her from your parents, but how could you do that if you were no longer alive?

As you sprint away, tightly holding onto the groceries, a gasp escapes your lips before a hand covers your mouth, guiding you into a hidden bush. The struggle feels like the most intense challenge you've ever faced. Through a tiny gap, you catch a glimpse of your groceries left behind on the pavement.

" Shh, little female."

As if by magic, a wave of calm washes over you the moment you recognize the familiar presence of 'Dom'. Tears cascade down your cheeks, and you gently rest your hands upon his, feeling the rhythmic beats of your heart resonating in your ears. As you glance through the foliage, a gasp escapes your lips upon seeing 'Tyler' once again. Yet, he appears far from human this time. His complexion is a mesmerizing shade of deep purple, and his face is adorned with four fiery red eyes and a menacing set of frothing, razor-sharp teeth.

His mouth oozes with saliva, which cascades onto the solid ground and creates a sizzling noise. It was acidic. Dom embraces you tightly, his free hand ascending. In his grasp, a peculiar gun emerges, unlike anything you have ever laid eyes upon. With precision, he positions the barrel's tip against the peephole, his finger gently caressing the trigger. As the gun powers up, a radiant orange glow illuminates its entire frame, casting an ethereal aura. The release is nearly soundless, as a beam pierces through 'Tyler's forehead.

He moves away from you, emerging from the bushes, taking your stunned body in his arms and lifting you up gently. Running his fingers through his hair, the white locks falling smoothly into place.

As your gaze meets his, your mortal eyes widen in awe. He appears changed, yet undeniably captivating in a strange, otherworldly manner. His complexion is a deep shade of grey, adorned with intricate tattoos in an unfamiliar script. Some markings are white, while others emit a haunting red glow. His hair, too, is a ghostly white, almost pulsating with life. His eyes, a cloudy white, give the impression of blindness, yet two more eyes rest just below the main set. The piercings on his nose and eyebrow remain, adding to his enigmatic allure.

You take a step back, but he gives you a piercing look that freezes you in place "What are you?" Without a word, he hesitates for a moment before taking your hand and leading you away. "Where are we going?" Your voice trembles with fear. Dom halts and releases your hand. He gestures towards the lifeless body. "Do you see that? Hundreds of those things have already touched Terra, 3 earth months ago."

You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to keep warm. The deep timber of his voice brings you back to reality. "They proliferate with astonishing speed, ceaselessly multiplying. Your planet is infested, we're only here to see if it was preventable. We were too late."

As he looks down upon you, his eyes soften, embracing the sight of your trembling figure. "Our ultimate aim is to gather a chosen few among humanity and escort you to a hospitable planet, so that you can once again repopulate."

You shake your head slowly, taking a step back, "I cannot abandon my sister here." Dom releases a fierce growl, pointing his gun towards you and firing. The beam narrowly misses you, striking another monster in the head.

"Make it quick."

In a flurry of movement, you dart into the house, the groceries slipping from your grasp and finding their place on the table in a haphazard manner. Dom follows silently, his presence masked by a cloaking device that renders him invisible to the naked eye.

Your heart races within your chest, a wild stallion galloping against the confines of its cage, as you ascend the stairs with reckless abandon, the sound of your footsteps reverberating loudly against the wooden steps. Bursting into Jess' room, a wave of relief washes over you, a grateful prayer whispered under your breath. Taking a seat on her bed, your smile quivers with a mixture of emotions.

Her expression is one of bewilderment and a touch of fear. Tenderly, you sweep a strand of hair away from her face. "Do me a favor, my sweet girl. Pack some clothes, but pack light. I'll explain on the way but do it quickly." Jess has always trusted your decisions without hesitation, and she won't begin to question them now. She swiftly jumps out of bed and retrieves a bookbag from her wardrobe, the very same one you both use during your camping adventures.

"We don't have much time, little female." His tone isn't rushing in the slightest but you quickly head to your room and grab your book bag. You gather only the essentials - tough denim, comfortable shirts, reliable footwear, empty notebooks, and writing tools.

Jess rushed into the room, packing faster than anticipated, much to your relief. You take her hand and guide her out, but suddenly a loud crash interrupts. Both of you scream and huddle in the corner. Dom reveals himself and fires a shot, striking the massive creature in the shoulder. Its deafening roar rattles the house and you hear your parents' heavy footsteps approaching. Just as the monster lunges towards you, Dom takes aim and shoots it in the head. Neon blood splatters the wall, causing it to slowly dissolve.

With wide, frightened eyes, Jess looks up at you as you cling to her protectively. Your parents step into the room, dressed in their robes, shocked expressions on their faces as they take in the scene in front of them. Dom pays no attention to them, instead turning his gaze towards you and giving you a once-over.

" Are you ready?"

With a subtle nod, you accept his outstretched hand, intertwining your fingers with his while ensuring your younger sister is safe by your side. The first to break the silence is your father, his voice laced with bewilderment. "What the hell is happening?!" His eyes fixate on you, as if you hold the key to unraveling this enigma. Disregarding his inquiry, Dom strides past, leading the three of you down the staircase. Your parents trail behind, bombarding you with a flurry of questions. Despite their persistent curiosity, you make a conscious effort to block out their voices, but your mother intervenes by snatching Jess away from your side.

With a sudden movement, the girl breaks free and falls into your waiting arms. Dom brandishes his weapon, his expression icy and resolute. Your mother retreats, seeking solace in the arms of your father.

Dom takes the lead, while the two of you follow closely. Observing Jess, he sees her slight build and anticipates she may have difficulty keeping pace. However, he remains utterly unfazed, not a hint of complaint escaping his lips. In a surprising display of strength, he effortlessly lifts her, prompting her to let out a startled yelp, and places her book bag on his shoulder.

" We need to move fast. Keep up."

As you secure your book bag and inhale deeply, a rush of adrenaline courses through you. Dom sprints ahead, weapon in hand. The sound of breaking glass startles you, disrupting the tranquility of the surroundings you had just passed. The anguished cries of parents and children tug at your heartstrings, but your focus remains on Jess.

—

The length of time you've been running is a blur, your legs now numb from the effort. Nevertheless, you persist, matching his pace as best as you can. Jess has succumbed to sleep, worn out from the night's adventures. You grin wearily at her and give yourself a firm slap on the cheeks, determined to stay awake.

Dom is pleasantly surprised by how far you've been able to sprint, appreciating your resilience and commitment to your kin. As the three of you reach a vast clearing, he gradually slows down and halts. You catch up to him, panting heavily, with sweat glistening on your skin. You look at him, curious as to why he's stopped. Dom raises his arm and utters something in his native tongue. The gauntlet beeps and responds to him in kind.

The once vacant clearing now teems with life as your gaze is captivated by the majestic arrival of a ship. Its sheer grandeur overwhelms you, compelling you to take a step back. Towering above, the ship's entrance demands you to tilt your head back.

As Dom guides you onward, the hatch swings open, inviting you to step onto its surface. A warm welcome awaits you from a gathering of his companions, each adorned in vibrant hues, yet all sharing the distinctive feature of milky white eyes. Drawing nearer to Dom, you find solace in the proximity of your sister. They engage in conversation briefly, before the hatch seals shut and Dom secures his firearm in its holster. " You will be safe here. The ship will take off tomorrow night when my people come with more of your kind."

He leads the two of you to a room, one big bed placed in the middle of it accompanied by a smattering of curious contraptions. The walls exude an ethereal shade of slate grey metal, while a petite window graces the space just above a cozy sitting area. Tenderly, Dom settles Jess upon the bed and places the bag on a nearby table. He looks towards you and motions forward. "Rest."

As he moves towards the room's exit, you seize his hand. Your eyes betray a lack of trust, not in him, but in the very ship and its occupants. Dom stares at you, his emotions veiled, and you struggle to hold back tears. " Will you come back? Are you leaving us?"

In Dom's world, the idea of a female requiring reassurance and assistance was unfamiliar territory. The females on his planet, known as sîmalę, were formidable warriors, often occupying positions of power surpassing those of the males. Dom found himself fortunate to have gotten his position. [ Female¹]

He reminds himself that you are a human hailing from the terra planet. The concept of hunting or encountering creatures that did not resemble pets or the animals confined within the cages of a zoo was foreign to you. Dom gently releases your hand from his grasp, his gaze emanating reassurance despite the vacancy in his expression." Sleep, little female and this one will be back soon."

Observing as you reluctantly nod, you make your way towards the bed. With tenderness, you remove your sister's shoes and tuck her in, finding solace in this simple act of nurturing. Your savior exits the room, leaving you to collapse onto your knees, tears cascading from your eyes. The events of today crash upon you with the intensity of a thunderstorm, and you come to the realization that it is now solely you and your sister. A small part of you regrets not bringing your parents along, but you have convinced yourself that it was the wisest choice.

" What's wrong?"

You swiftly brush away the tears with the back of your hand. Gazing at your sister, you grasp her hand gently in yours. Her eyes hold a hint of doubt as you shake your head. It was crucial to show Jess that you were the pillar of strength, assuring her safety and control.

"It's nothing, I'm just exhausted. Let's head to sleep okay?" Jess nods, revealing the empty side of the bed for you to rest on. You kick off your shoes and wrap yourself in the comforter. Jess joins you promptly, nestling beside you to provide warmth. The lights recognize your need for rest and dim down.

"I love you."

You grin and hold her hand in yours. "I love you too."

—-

The gentle murmur of voices pulls you from your slumber, but Jess is no longer by your side, leaving you feeling a sense of emptiness. Your eyes gradually open, taking in your surroundings. A sleepy yawn escapes your lips as you sit up in bed. The voices fall silent, only to be replaced by Jess' voice, beckoning you to join the conversation.

"Are you finally awake?"

A slight thumbs up is the only response Jess receives before you run your hands over your eyes, dispelling the drowsiness. "Dom says that the others will be back soon, in two hours. Then we'll be leaving here." At the mention of his name, you lift your gaze completely. The alien is stationed at the entrance, arms crossed, sporting a ghostly smile as a greeting.

Relief floods through you when he appears, and he can sense it too. Your oxytocin levels spike at the mere sight of him. The moment is disrupted by the loud rumbling of Jess' stomach, leading her to groan and flop onto the bed. "I'm starving!"

A piece of your heart is relieved to see Jess back to her usual self, yet a part of you understands the importance of discussing the recent events and what lies ahead. Dom opens the room door and motions to it. "This one will take you to the canteen, you'll eat there."

Jess eagerly jumps out of bed, taking your hand and pulling you along. "Hurry, I don't want to go by myself," she pleads. You yield to her plea and stand up. Dom watches the two of you but doesn't race you to get ready. The two of you quickly put on your shoes and exit the room.

Dom assumes the lead, acknowledging the presence of the guards stationed throughout the ship. "You will eat with the rest of your kind, worry not." You reciprocate with a nod, holding your sister tightly while marveling at the ship and its bewildering gadgets that surpass Earth's comprehension. Dom opens the door for both of you, placing a comforting hand on your lower back. His touch brings solace as you step inside, with Jess following closely behind. Although the canteen isn't teeming with people, its modest occupancy provides a semblance of safety within the ship's vast expanse.

"Jess?"

The sound of your sister's name comes from a girl with dyed red and pink hair. A dazzling diamond stud graces her pierced nose, and her eyes gleam in a warm toffee shade. It takes a moment for your sister to locate the person who called out to her, but when she does, her eyes fill with tears of happiness as she waves in acknowledgment.

You anticipate your sister's eager rush, yet she remains rooted, her hand clasping yours with increasing intensity, as if seeking your validation. A profound connection is forged as your eyes meet, and despite the weariness etched upon your visage, you manage to summon a tired smile, silently conveying your agreement. With unwavering determination, Jess propels herself towards the girl in the queue, leaping into her outstretched arms. "Kayla!"

While your sister is occupied, you sit at an unoccupied table, startled by Dom's sudden presence across from you. "How do you and your kin fair? Little female." It's a pity that you feel more at ease with an alien than your own kind.

" My name is [ ]." The nickname he has given you isn't one that offends you in any way. The way he uses it is quite endearing, but you'd rather him call you by your real name than anything else. You wring your hands together and your stress levels rise steadily. Anxious thoughts swirl in your mind as you ponder, "What will happen to everyone else that's left here?"

Your name carries the meaning of 'to conquer' in his native tongue and he finds it fitting for you. Dom's jaw tightens slightly as he locks eyes with you. "This one will not lie to you. Many of your species will die, it is survival of the fittest when it comes to the Qęnłar. They are hard to kill without proper weapons but it is not impossible."

[ Abomination¹]

A soft gasp is stifled by your hand as tears well up in your eyes. The sense of guilt consumes you, making you question your own worthiness. Unsure of how you could have helped, you can't help but feel like an imposter among those who perished.

Dom seems to sense your inner turmoil and does his best to console you. "There is not much you could've done, litt–."His voice falters momentarily as he nearly utters the name he'd given you, but he swiftly regains composure. "Had you not gone out that night, you also could've been left here on terra to die. None aboard this vessel would have spared a second thought to rescue you."

It's clear that he's not skilled at soothing people, particularly humans, yet you offer your thanks with a watery smile. As he opens his mouth to speak again, he gently places a hand on his ear. Despite the absence of eyebrows, you observe the furrow in the center of his forehead. His gaze turns icy as he stands up from the table.

"This one will find you in your chambers later, ask the guard to lead you when you are ready. Fęrłåk dė hłał." Although you don't understand the meaning behind his words, you nod in agreement, captivated by the enigmatic aura surrounding him. He then departs, pausing briefly to converse with the guard. [ Eat well ¹]

With a glance in your direction, the alien acknowledges Dom with a nod. Your stomach emits a low growl, prompting you to lay your head on the table, too fatigued to make a move.

Clang!

Next to your slouched figure, Jess sets down two trays brimming with mouth-watering dishes. As you straighten up, a grin spreads across your face. You instinctively grab the tray loaded with an assortment of fruits, feeling understood by her intuitive gesture— she knew you so well.

"Where did he go?" You assume she's talking about Dom. With a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, you indulged in the succulent sweetness of a ripe mango, savoring each delicate bite.

"Jess. What happened yesterday–."

The girl holds up her hand. "I don't know what happened when you left, and there's no need to tell me. I've never questioned anything you've done for me before because you always have the best interest at heart. Thank you for coming back for me. Dom told me that you wouldn't leave without me."

She gazes down at her tray of food. "A part of me feels guilty for leaving mom and dad but I know that you made the right decision and had your reasons." Jess lets out a shaky sigh and turns to face you. "I'm scared, absolutely terrified but I want to be strong for you. Like how you are for me. I can tell you're stressed as it is and I don't want to burden you."

You pull her into a hug and shake your head. "Jess, you could never, and I mean never be a burden to me. Do you understand?" She nods into your chest, sniffling softly. You rub her back and bite your lip. "I'm also really scared, this is new to me but I'll make sure that we'll get through it."

She nods again and pulls away from you. You purse your lips, a mixture of emotions swirling within you, and decide to divert your attention by savoring the delectable cantaloupe. "Now eat. You pulled me from my sleep and I want to go back to bed." Jess chuckles softly, her head bobbing in agreement. " I'm also really sleepy. It'd also be crazy to wake up in space."

The mere thought causes you to grimace involuntarily. This entire experience is uncharted territory for you, but just like in the past, you will learn to adapt and persevere. The cool, refreshing juice of the watermelon glides down your throat, its delightful taste prompting a gentle hum of satisfaction.

It feels almost surreal to grasp the idea that within a mere two hours, you will bid farewell to your beloved home. A place you believed to be exclusively inhabited by humans, the notion of extraterrestrial existence had never crossed your mind. The journey that lies ahead will undoubtedly present its fair share of challenges and hardships. This very moment, unfolding like a scene from an otherworldly sci-fi saga, is something you never could have anticipated, even in your wildest dreams. And now, as you find yourself in this new reality, your mission has taken on a profound meaning - to protect Jess at all costs.

"Captain X'ęnš would like to enter your chambers. Will you allow him access?"

In a state of heightened alertness, you find yourself sitting up, your muscles tense with anticipation. The room is suddenly bathed in light, only to swiftly dim as the perceptive AI detects that Jess is still sound asleep. A wave of uncertainty washes over you as you contemplate the identity of the person standing outside the door.

Your gaze sweeps across the room, desperately seeking an object to grasp onto for a sense of security. Eventually, your eyes settle upon one of your worn boots. With a mixture of doubt and determination, you call out to the AI. "Please show me the door feed." A brief moment of silence ensues before the AI responds, its voice calm and reassuring. "Certainly."

The door shimmers, revealing a translucent barrier that draws you nearer. Dropping the shoe, you breathe a sigh of contentment at the sight of Dom standing before you. Standing in front of the door, you gaze at him, captivated by the intricacies of his face.

"Can he see me?"

In a swift response, the AI speaks, "Negative, this is a unidirectional perspective. He is visible solely to you." As soon as it finishes saying that, Dom raises his head. Your heart pounds rapidly as his gaze eerily connects with yours, contradicting the AI's statement. "Open the door."

As the entryway unfolds with a whisper, Dom's towering figure emerges. You greet him with a breathless smile, slipping your hands into your back pockets. "Hi." Dom mellows at your soft tone, allowing you to place a hand on his arm and push him back, watching as you discreetly slide out of the room so as to not wake up your sister. He does a once over, looking for any wounds or signs of distress, and finds that he's pleased with himself that you're alright.

"This one said he would visit after his duties, jœrmünd łæ bšłåm." He watches with amusement as your eyebrows furrow. " What does that mean?" Your lips form a thoughtful pout. "And earlier you said, ferrak di hal." From the moment you first laid eyes on him, even though it was just recently, you had been curious to discover the sound of his laughter, and it did not disappoint.

His laugh isn't boisterous. It's a deep and soothing sound, akin to the soft murmur of a distant waterfall. As the echoes of his laughter reached your ears, they stirred a gentle fire within, causing a delightful warmth to spread and caress your belly. Whether he noticed the subtle increase in your body's temperature or not, he remained silent, allowing the enchantment of the moment to weave its spell.

"Jœrmünd łæ bšłåm, it translates roughly in terra language to, 'good evening.'" His eyes twinkle with a playful delight as you attempt to mimic the intricate sounds and melodic cadence. " Fęrłåk dė hłał. It means to, eat well."

Dom gazes intently at you, then clasps his hands behind his back. "Walk with this one." You wriggle your toes in your cozy socks and give a slight nod.

As if guided by an invisible force, your steps align effortlessly with Dom's. The silence envelops you, but it feels far from uncomfortable. Your gaze wanders through the vast corridors of the ship, capturing glimpses of unfamiliar beings from distant worlds. At this moment, you break the silence and softly inquire, "May I know your name?"

With a quick glance, Dom's gaze shifts to you, his lips forming a straight line, prompting a frown to appear on your face. You ponder if your request was too bold, unsure of the cultural norms that may have been offended by your question.

As he utters the words, a sense of relief washes over you, even though his expression seems tinged with sadness. "This one's given name is Nim'xėn." he murmurs. In the distance, a group of his fimea approaches, but you remain oblivious, lost in your own thoughts. With a tender touch, he clasps your wrist and guides you to his side, yet your attention barely registers the gesture. [ soldiers ]

"Nim'xėn, in the language I speak, translates to 'of soft heart'. It doesn't much fit, when it comes to this one's line of work." Your mouth opened in a small 'o', that was probably the reason he had stuck with Dom all this time. You laughed softly, holding your hands up in surrender when he shoots you a coltish look of exasperation.

"I think it fits, regardless of what you do." There is no trace of mockery in your tone, nor any hint of jesting at his expense. With a gentle smile adorning his face, he steals a glance at you. A surge of warmth courses through your veins, causing your body temperature to soar. Swiftly, he averts his gaze, evading your notice.

With a gentle laugh, he responds to your attempt at saying his name, "Nim'jin?" He guides you towards a door, "This one will help you practice your Tuökkorsė, later." You assume that he's talking about his home language and your cheeks flush with embarrassment, making you question just how badly you butchered his name.

As Nim'xėn gently swings open the door, a beckoning gesture invites you to step inside. Without hesitation, you follow the invitation, and in an instant, your jaw falls open in awe. Unbeknownst to you and Jess, who had been lost in slumber for over two hours, the ship had gracefully ascended into the vastness of space. The sight before you is nothing short of breathtaking, confirming your belief that waking up to the wonders of the cosmos is an experience beyond compare.

The space around you is encased in what looks like a delicate glass structure. You floated weightlessly in the vast expanse of the universe, far from the comforts of home. "Nim, this is truly breathtaking," you marveled. The alien blinked in response to the endearing nickname but remained silent. "Jess would love to see this."

Nim'xėn walks up behind you and fixates on the view he has witnessed countless times. However, inexplicably, he discovers himself treasuring your pįiwth expressions and yearning to unveil new wonders, all to witness your delightful grin once more. [ childish or cute¹ ]

"This one gives permission for you and your kin to visit here anytime." The enigmatic allure you possess has captivated him, leaving him bewildered. It is not his nature to be swayed so easily. He should have abandoned you on that desolate street, yet your innocent gaze had a profound effect on him. The depth of your love for your family astounded him, for even in the presence of imminent danger, your thoughts were solely consumed by her, and her alone.

Once he had escorted you to your room, his task should have been complete. Yet, your tender human hand had entwined with his own. Your unwavering trust and reliance had ensnared him, making it difficult for him to let go. In a realm where his female counterparts were independent and formidable, that moment of vulnerability had drawn him in, like a eürq to light.

[ large mosquito like creature — a saying similar to, ' a moth to flame ' ¹ ]

Yet, he also knew how strong you were. None before you had managed to match his speed, let alone endure it for an entire three hours. Your unwavering determination fascinated him. Nim'xėn yearned to prolong your time together, reluctant to bid you farewell.

Turning to the extraterrestrial, you met his gaze with the same wide-eyed innocence that had captivated him during your initial encounter. "Seriously?" His nod elicited a radiant smile on your face, reminiscent of the joy of Christmas, and Nim'xėn felt a flutter in his hearts. Your eyes then sought his. "How do you say thank you in your language?"

Nim'xėn couldn't help but find it pįiwth¹ that you were making an effort to learn his people's language. He decided to humor you. "Stęq'hn kevvhr.²" The alien chuckles when you grimace, looking up at him with furrowed brows. [ childish or cute¹ ] [ thank you² ]

"Lirft X'ęnš, quœ mojå iėał ph'ük ak hlem.¹ "

As he tightens his jaw, a resolute grunt escapes his lips. Returning his attention to you, he observes the slight downturn of your plush lips and the tilt of your head to the side. "Do you need to leave, again?" Nim'xėn softly hums, his hand finding solace on your lower back as he leads you towards the door.

[ Captain X'ęnš, we need your assistance up front. ¹ ]

"This one will take you back to your room."

As you tread back, a hushed calmness settles in, and Nim'xėn discerns that your thoughts have carried you away. Respecting your need for introspection, he chooses not to disturb your reverie. Upon arriving at the room, you turn around, meeting his gaze head-on. "Stęq'han kever." Without delay, you slip inside, leaving him standing there, his words left unspoken.

He then realizes that while the two of you were walking back, you had been trying to replicate what he had just said. Nim'xėn, finding himself once more, made his way towards the pit. Despite your imperfect rendition, he grasped the essence of your intention and couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

phæż pįiwth ¹ he thought. [ how cute. ¹ ]

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lovemyavatar · 2 years ago

Text

Just for the Night

Lo’ak x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Part Two

Warnings: (aged up) nsfw, enemies to lovers, angst, arguing, hate-fucking

part one

The skin on the back of your neck prickles with unease, color tinging your cheeks as frustration mounts with each rushed stride through the forest.

You're practically vibrating with irritation, muscles pulled so taunt a dull ache radiates from between your shoulders. You welcome the sting of short nails biting into your palms, reveling in the distraction for only a moment before the scrutiny at your back becomes too much to bear.

“Will you stop that already?” Your lips purse with a low hiss, head turning just enough to send a steely glare toward the man behind you.

Lo'ak glowers at your quickly retreating figure, lips turning downward in displeasure. Long fingers tighten around the woven basket perched on his hip, the mere sound of your voice putting him further on edge.

“I can feel you plotting my murder back there.” You mutter with a roll of your eyes, attention returning to the path ahead.

The weight of his hard stare is palpable. It settles in your gut, twists your insides uncomfortably. Warmth blankets your skin, a heady mix of anger and...something else, something you haven't dared begin to dissect since the night you both crossed a line it doesn't seem you'll be able to come back from.

“Oh, I don’t have to plot, sweetheart. The whole thing’s already planned out.” His voice is rough, lips twitching into a satisfied smirk at the way your spine stiffens.

You whirl around to face him, fists clenching impossibly tighter, eyes narrowed in a fierce glare. Despite your best efforts, he's continued doing what he's best at: worming his way under your skin.

Whatever this is between you—this stifling tension—it's only gotten worse since that night in his family's tent. The lingering looks, the constant bickering...it's driving you crazy. Not a single day has gone by without some altercation with the youngest Sully brother.

Despite years of this back and forth, you aren't accustomed to the cold, unreadable wall that Lo'ak has built around himself since that night. It makes you uneasy, has you questioning if there may be some deeper issue he has with you, past the point of friendly competition.

“Charming.” Your nose wrinkles with an insincere smile, a scoff falling from your lips as you turn away from him again.

“You always do this." A humorless laugh echoes through the trees as you near your destination. Lo'ak jogs forward, arm extending to brush away a large leaf from the path, allowing you to duck through into the clearing first. “Get all mad as if it's not your fault we're in this position.”

You're already facing him as he steps into the plush grass after you, an expression of exasperated shock etched into your features.

“You're joking, right?” Wide eyes scan his lithe form, taking note of the way strong arms cross so casually over his broad chest.

He can't possibly think this is your fault. You were simply minding your own business, as usual, when he appeared and started bothering you. Kiri was at your side, the two of you helping prepare for the midday meal, chopping various vegetables for the clan.

Less than a minute after Lo'ak plopped down onto the rock only inches from yours, the fighting was unbearable for your best friend. She disappeared with the typical departing insult—calling you both skxawngs (idiots) with a soft sigh.

Truthfully, you don't even know how it started. You never do. Somehow, despite your best efforts, the two of you always end up right here. Harsh words and cold glares exchanged until one of you snaps and stalks off, only for the cycle to repeat the next time you see each other.

“I know you're used to getting away with everything, but you should know by now that I see through the good girl act.” Lo'ak's head tilts to the side, tail swaying with ease at his back.

Despite the volatile nature of your relationship, he's never stopped watching you. He's tried, he really has, to leave you alone—to keep his wandering eyes at bay. But you're always there, always so close yet still out of reach.

It's his own fault, and he knows it, but the fact does little to lessen the sting.

“What are you talking about?” Something ignites in Lo'ak's chest at the flare of heat in your golden eyes. It eggs him on, pushes him closer to the line he's always toeing, between good-natured bickering and actual fighting.

“Oh, please. The clan's precious little angel, used to getting whatever she wants.” His voice drips with mockery, and it makes a wave of embarrassment wash over your cheeks. “And you can't stand that I don't like you.”

Lo'ak's feet move on their own accord, bringing him a step closer with each harsh word. He has no idea what he's doing, doesn't know what's possessed him to take it this far, but he's just so...fed up. He's tired of this push and pull, tired of warring with himself every time you're close.

He can't stand you, and yet, he aches to be near you. His heart yearns for yours in a way he's never experienced with anyone else. In a way he hasn't been able to shake since the very moment he realized his feelings for you breached well past platonic.

It was only a breath later that he decided he would never have you. Decided it would be best to push you away, to protect his fragile heart from the surety of your rejection. Because, even at such a young age, he knew it would never work. He'd long been labeled the trouble child, the rebel, the one who ruins everything he touches...

And how could he bear to bring you down with him?

A surprised laugh bubbles in your chest, and you move back, desperate to put some distance between you. It's clear, what he's insinuating. That you're the instigator, the one to blame for the argument that got you into this mess in the first place.

Regardless of who threw the first verbal punch, Lo'ak's father—your Olo'eyktan—was not the least bit happy. He stormed toward the two of you without hesitation, sternly hissing that you were drawing attention to yourselves. Bringing shame to your families.

His words settled heavily in your heart, made your ears flatten with shame. But he was right. It only took a single glance toward your father, standing just a few feet behind Jake, to notice the disappointment gleaming in his eyes.

As the Olo'eyktan's closest confident, he has an image to uphold. Which, in turn, means that you do too. And typically, you're an exemplary member of the clan. You pull your own weight, help others whenever possible, and keep to yourself otherwise.

But there's just something about Lo'ak that makes you forget all duty and responsibility in the name of defending yourself, of proving that you're not some wallflower. That you're worthy of being noticed.

Jake quietly ushered you both off to collect some fruit for lunch, ordering that you not return until you've figured out how to get along.

“Are you actually that self-absorbed? You really think I'd waste my time trying to get at you?” You peer up at Lo'ak in disbelief, a flash of anger making your heart beat just a fraction faster.

“Drop the innocent act. It's just me, and I've already seen the real you. Can't get much worse than that.” He regrets the words the instant they leave him, jaw clenching at the way your lips part in surprise.

He's taken it too far. That much is clear, if the pained glimmer that washes over your eyes is any indication. It's gone in an instant, replaced with the fiery anger he's used to. Your ears twitch, tail snapping, a clear display of your animosity.

“If I’m the clan's angel, what does that make you? Clan screw up?” Your hands curl into fists and you take a small step forward.

The air between you is sharp, jagged edges of your tattered friendship hanging by a thread. You can't help but lash out, even if the insult has your own heart cinching in your chest.

It was a low blow, and it's obvious you've hit a nerve. Your chest heaves as you watch the words settle over him, watch his expression crumble before turning hard as stone again within seconds.

Lo'ak's tail twitches to attention against his spine, before swishing from side to side harshly. His breath hitches, heart racing with an overwhelming mix of emotion.

It washes over him in wave after wave, an onslaught of anger, frustration, crushing sorrow. Because after all this time, you finally see him for what he truly is.

What he fears he'll always be.

“At least I actually contribute. You can’t do anything without daddy hovering right behind you. How pathetic.” He crowds the remaining space between you, towering over you, chin dipping as his eyes narrow into a harsh glare.

He looks downright menacing, not an ounce of warmth in his expression. A soft gasp falls from your lips, moisture blurring your vision. He's breathing heavily, chest nearly touching yours as he fights to slow the violent thrum of his heart.

You peer up at him, equal parts rage and hurt swirling deep within your belly until you can't take it for even a second longer. One of your hands rears back, but before you can land a hit on his cheek, he snatches your arm out of the air.

Long fingers curl around your wrist, his hold gentle but firm. The feeling of his skin on yours sets you ablaze, fans the flame of desire that's been building within you since that night. This is the first time he's touched you since then, and though it was only in an act of self-defense, the warmth from his palm has you reeling.

“I hate you.” You voice wavers, the proclamation nothing more than a broken whisper.

“Good.” His jaw clenches, your spiteful words only spurring him on.

He pulls you forward roughly, capturing your lips with bruising force. You stumble into him, body responding without hesitation despite the weak internal protests warning against falling into this pattern with him.

The pressure on your wrist disappears, instead moving to your hips as both of his hands circle your waist. A gasp tears your lips from his as rough bark bites into the skin of your back. You hadn't even realized you were moving, too distracted by the burning heat of his lips on yours.

Lo'ak devours you like a man starved. His kiss isn't sweet, it isn't tender. It's all tongue and teeth, a explosion of pent up tension that's been brewing for years. A shiver rolls down your spine, and you arch into him, pressing your chest flush to his.

Your tongues battle for dominance, ragged breath mingling as you both pour every ounce of distain for each other into the kiss. One of your hands lifts, fingertips smoothing over the side of his neck to draw him in.

You hold him there gently, a quiet moan spilling into his mouth despite your best efforts to keep any noises at bay. Warring desires clash in your mind. You want to shove him away, and pull him closer all at once. He's so infuriating, so intoxicating, and you're far too under his spell to escape now.

Within seconds, your loose hold is ripped away as he cages your hand against the tree, holding it above your head. You can't help the way your hips writhe along his, a breathy sound falling from your lips when you feel the stroke of something hard against your soft heat.

You respond by tangling your free hand into his braids, tugging harshly just to see his reaction. His head jerks back at the unexpected sting, a rough growl rumbling his lungs. Your hips rut against his again, the vibration of his chest on yours settling hotly between your legs.

A wave of pleasure washes over him, the color of his cheeks deepening. His eyes snap to yours, narrowed in warning before he leans forward, nipping at your bottom lip lightly. An involuntary whimper escapes you, hold on his hair tightening.

A low moan falls from his lips, a shaky breath fanning your face as he staggers back a step. Your lips chase his, seeking the heat of his touch before your mind has a chance to catch up. The two of you stumble blindly, an uncoordinated dance of passion as you desperately fight to stay connected.

This continues until one of Lo'ak's heels catches on an upturned root, sending him crumpling to the ground. His arms slide around your middle, caging you to his chest as his tailbone takes the brunt of the fall. He grunts against you, lips still ravaging yours without skipping a beat.

The slight ache from the fall is instantly forgotten as you mount him, spreading your legs so his body easily slots between them. His head tilts back at the sensation of your plush skin on either side of his hips, a shudder wracking his chest when your hands begin exploring his skin.

Your fingertips trail along his chest, over trembling abs, all the way down to the hardened length still trapped beneath his loincloth. When your touch ghosts over his cock, he jerks, his hips rutting into your hand. A breathy moan falls from his lips, followed by a shaky gasp when you do it again.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Your lips twitch into a smirk against his, earning you a low growl.

“Shut up.” He hisses, long fingers curling around your throat.

The hold is possessive, and oh so dominant, a show of control even though he's the one beneath you. He pulls you forward, claiming your lips harshly again. A shiver rolls down your spine, and you can't help but drag your soaked core over his cock.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He gasps, lips ripping from yours as his head falls back, eyes fluttering with a surge of pleasure. His hands fall to your hips, his hold tight as he presses you down onto him, guiding your movements.

“Take this off.” Your chest is heaving, breath ragged as you hurriedly tug at the strings of his loincloth.

His lips curve into a lopsided grin, though another moan rumbles his chest when your hips roll along his cock again. “That desperate already?”

“Don't.” Your voice drops in warning as you successfully undo the knot, before practically ripping the material from his body.

It's quickly discarded, leaving you with nothing to do but dissect his cock with heavy-lidded eyes. It's bigger than you imagined, slapping against his stomach as it stands fully erect.

Something warm and unwelcome blooms deep within Lo'ak's chest, as he watches you. Wide eyes, flushed cheeks, plump lips parted with wonder as you take him in for the first time.

He's quick to flip you over, to lay you gently onto the soft grass. His palms press into the earth on either side of your head, supporting his weight as he takes a moment to gaze down at you. He can't help it, the way his eyes lock onto yours, pouring out every last bit of his usually tightly shackled emotions.

Having you beneath him like this is something he's fantasized about for years, and even now, he's not quite sure that it's real. He's tried so hard to push you away, to wedge so much distance between you that this could never be a possibility. And yet, here you are, more beautiful than ever...and all his.

He rips his gaze away, warmth blanketing his face. He deftly unties your loincloth with one hand, slipping it down your legs smoothly. His palm skims along the outside of your calf, sending a shiver down your spine.

When he reaches your thigh, he gives it a firm squeeze before hooking his fingers behind your knee and urging your legs apart. A deep moan rumbles his chest at the sight of your glistening pussy, fingers moving to drag along the trail of slick coating your inner thighs.

“Goddamn, you always get this wet when we fight?” He rasps, only half joking. The mere idea of you so hot and bothered by him, by your frequent disagreements, has his cock throbbing in anticipation.

“Stop. Talking.” You hiss, the color of your cheeks deepening with arousal and embarrassment alike.

Lo'ak gives his cock a few strokes as he aligns himself with your entrance, dragging his swollen tip along your soft folds. You arch into him, a quiet moan falling from your lips. The sound has his gaze snapping to yours again, breath lodging in his throat.

Suddenly, this position feels too intimate. It tightens his chest, makes his stomach flip with conflicting emotion. A deeply seeded desire within his heart urges him to take care of you, to allow whatever this is between you blossom into something real. Something warm and soft, unlike the cold bitterness that's been festering for years.

It's all too much. Too good to be true.

So, instead, he grips your waist and roughly flips you over, hauling you onto your hands and knees before him.

“Lo'ak—” You gasp, surprised at the unexpected movement.

“Thought you said no talking?" His teeth clench so hard he fears they may shatter, but he welcomes the ache as he easily slides into your waiting pussy.

You cry out, arms already trembling, nearly collapsing onto the grass at the burst of pleasure. Lo'ak's eyes pinch closed, hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he slams his entire length into your sopping pussy. He groans when he bottoms out, tip pressing firmly into your womb.

You're a mess before him, reduced to a string of moans and whimpers as he drills into you mercilessly. Your back bows, head dropping between your arms when your lower belly tightens. His head falls back, a low growl echoing through the clearing as your silky walls flutter around him.

He doesn't give you even a second to rest, maintaining a brutal pace as he chases his high. One of his hands smooths over your lower back, pressing into it to force a deeper arch. It continues trailing upward, until his fingers tangle in your braids, jerking your head back firmly.

Sharp teeth catch his lower lip, restraint tightening his chest as he fights to hold back mounting pleasure. All you can do is whimper meekly, the sting in your scalp pushing you closer to a quickly approaching orgasm. Moisture pools in the corners of your eyes, his roughness too much and not enough all at once.

This is what you expected from him, and yet, it's better than you could've imagined. The way he handles you, bends you to his whim, it has your pussy spasming around his cock all over again.

“Fuck.” Lo'ak rumbles, his free hand snaking around your stomach, fingers expertly finding your clit.

You jolt at the sudden explosion of pleasure, the mere swirl of his fingers over your overworked pussy throwing you into an intense release. A series of sharp moans echo through the trees, every muscle in your body tensing before you shatter around him.

Lo'ak suddenly jerks his cock free, the abrupt emptiness jostling your trembling form as he pumps his cock, riding out his orgasm with an arm still firmly wrapped around your middle.

Silence falls between you, thick and uncomfortable as the weight of what you've just done settles over you both. You fight to catch your breath, pushing yourself up and out of his hold with shaky limbs. You avoid the sharp glare you can feel prickling against the side of your head, eyes scanning the area for your loincloth.

“That's never happening again.” The words aren't nearly as strong as you would've hoped, the slight quiver in your voice betraying the turmoil raging within.

Being with him like that, it was...good. Too good. It felt right, like the two of you should've been doing this for years, rather than pushing each other away at every opportunity. It's planted a seed of doubt in your mind, made you wonder what it could be like to let him in, to explore the possibility of being more.

It's a dangerous thing, hoping for something like that.

“Obviously.” Lo'ak is quick to agree, averting his eyes as you shakily stand to your full height and pull your loincloth back on.

By the time he's retrieved his own clothing, you're gone. A rough sigh caves his chest, disappointment lodging deeply within his gut. Some part of him, however small, thought maybe things would be different after what you just did.

He runs a hand down his face, replacing his practiced mask of indifference before he'll have to face you again.

The walk back to Home Tree is silent. He doesn't approach you, instead he maintains a wide birth between you, trailing your tense silhouette from a distance. When he breaks through the tree line a few seconds after you, his irritated groan has your head whipping around.

Your eyes widen, silently asking him to corroborate whatever story you've just told before your attention returns to his father.

“Lo'ak.” Jake's arms are crossed tightly over his chest, a signature look of disapproval etched into his strong features. “Did you two work it out?”

“Uh…yeah.” He winces, rubbing at the back of his neck as a wave of uncertainty makes his stomach twist.

Had you? Or did he only make things worse, like he always does?

Jake's eyes narrow, flicking between the two of you for several seconds. He notes the absence of any fruit, which is the entire reason he sent the two of you into the forest in the first place. That, coupled with your disheveled hair and Lo'ak's crooked loincloth, tells him everything he needs to know.

“Alright. Dismissed.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, a sigh of exasperation filling the space between you.

You're quick to scurry off, practically running away the very second you're given permission. Lo'ak's gaze remains locked on your retreating figure until it disappears into the center of Home Tree. His head drops, eyes closing as he considers the consequences of what you've just done.

He only makes it one step before Jake grips his arm, gently pulling him back.

“Not you, boy. We need to have a talk.”

@youcantseem3 @neyetams @pandorxxx @daiyuu27 @taleiak @neyetams @mrslandryy @superiorbyfar

982 notes · View notes

kazoosandfannypacks · 17 days ago

Text

summary: ezra bridger has been following online microcelebrity spectre_pheonix for years. although her online identity is shrouded in mystery, he may be closer to her than he realizes.

word count: 7309 (7974 counting alt text)

co-authorship note: the video game sequences featured in this fic were written by my co-author, shadow-ninja-13, who also helped me figure out a few plot things and what video games to include where. he's also my teenage brother, known by some on this site as skyguy, and he's the coolest kid on the planet!a/n: After so, so, so much time working on this fic and talking it up IT'S FINALLY FINISHED!!! Shoutout to my tumblr follows for helping me out with a couple ideas in this fic! Some of this fic is told in embedded images. I have added alt text, so it should be accessible via screenreader as well. I can probably make a pdf copy of a full plaintext version of the story available if anyone needs it!

taglist: @laughingphoenixleader@accidental-spice@kanerallels @piraterefrigerator @jedi-nurse@dootchster @lucasbridger@redroverrider @light-umbra @commander-tech @jedimandalorian@notanodinarygirl {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

need a player 2?

No, that definitely sounded insincere.

Ezra backspaced the message he'd typed into the livestream chat, then typed something else.

Duh. Too obvious. Try again.

Perfect.

Ezra hit the send button and waited for a response. It was very rare that spectre_pheonix responded to any of the hundreds of thousands of comments she'd get on her streams, but that didn't stop Ezra from hoping.

Ezra watched as the player found the Warthog, and perfectly drove, splattering the Aliens that got in her way. Nearby there was a small opening, he watched the player take the truck through, by driving on the stone wall. If she flipped, it’d be all over. If not, she’d be more awesome than usual. The landing was about to happen, the anxiety was building, and then… a hand got in between him and the phone, blocking his view entirely.

"Hey," Ezra said, pulling his headphone off of one ear so he could yell at his roommate, whose hand covered his phone.

"Hey yourself," Jai said, "we gotta get going; we're gonna be late."

Ezra hadn't looked at a clock since the stream had started, which was apparently three hours ago. Somehow it was already fifteen minutes before the dining hall stopped serving dinner, and it was at least a ten minute walk down that way.

"Shoot," Ezra sprang to his feet, "I must've lost track of time again."

"Because you were watching that gamer girl?" Jai asked, leaning on the doorframe.

"Maybe," Ezra said, as he reached for the nearest matching pair of shoes he could stuff his feet into.

"What's so interesting about watching someone game, anyways?" Jai asked.

"I think it's about loyalty now more than anything," Ezra said, "I've been watching her stream since before she became popular. It just wouldn't be right if I didn't watch her gaming sessions, especially when it's a game I love. Besides, she just has this way about her. She's so cool, so collected, so…."

"....hot?" Jai attempted to finish for him with a smile.

"I wouldn't know," Ezra said, "she's very good about keeping her personal life personal. I've never seen her face. No one has."

"So she's a mystery girl."

"She's just like any other celebrity," Ezra defended.

"So you mean she'd be way out of your league even if you knew who she was?" Jai asked.

"More like I haven't even considered it," Ezra said, "I'm one of millions of fans."

"Isn't her follower count only…"

"Enough talking," Ezra said, pulling Jai out the door of their dorm room, "I heard a rumor it's pizza night in the dining hall."

And with that, both boys were off on a new quest: Obtain Pizza.

💜.🎮.🧡

"I wonder how they'd react if they knew who was in the room with them," Sabine thought, sitting alone with her sketchbook in a corner of her college's student center.

Across the room, a group of boys were having a heated discussion over their game of Smash Bros. She didn't try to eavesdrop, but she'd always been aware of the world around her, and definitely heard the words "spectre" "phoenix" and "most influential gamer of our generation."

"You must be trippin'," one of them said, "her 'let's plays' are nothing more than a halfhearted follower grab."

"Oh, like you'd know," another said, "your youtube channel has, what, seventeen followers? Oh, and you just came in last place, again."

Sabine looked back up at their game to see that the fourth-place gamer had been playing as Bowser, then watched Diddy Kong deal a crippling blow on Captain Falcon.

Then, she glanced at the players, all of them laughing and roasting each other. One wore a t-shirt that said "official spectre spectator," and another had a hat on backwards with spectre_pheonix's logo on it. Sabine would recognize that merch anywhere— after all, she was the one who designed it— as merch for her own shop, and she couldn't say she was disappointed by how much praise its wearers spoke of her with.

"If only they knew who I was," Sabine thought, but she quickly reminded herself she was glad they didn't. Though she was thankful for her followers and their merch money paying her tuition, she wasn't prepared to have toxic dudebros hounding her everywhere she went. And once word got out at college that she was spectre_pheonix, there would go any sense of normalcy she had. Besides, if word about it slipped back home to her parents, she'd be deeper trouble than she already was.

So before she could do something regrettable and talk to them, she packed up her stuff and moved to a different study spot.

💜.🎮.🧡

The Flood surrounded her. In an unexpected turn of events, the creepiest enemy in the entire Halo saga had been introduced. She fired her assault rifle at the hoards of Flood crawling on the ground. The salvo was effective, but costly. She had forty rounds plus one full clip, but that wouldn’t be enough. As she walked the character up some stairs, she found allies, and promptly borrowed their ammo. At the end of the swamp, she encountered the monitor, and watched the cutscene at the end of 343 Guilty Spark.

"Sorry guys, gotta stop the stream for the night," Sabine said, "it's well past midnight here, and I've got an eight a.m. class."

She watched the comment section flare up with responses.

💜.🎮.🧡

Ezra stumbled into class a couple minutes late, but he was sure his professor would understand. It wasn't his fault that spectre_pheonix had been streaming late last night, right? As long as he quietly slipped into the back of the classroom, no one would notice anyways.

"Mr. Bridger," Professor Syndulla called to him as he tried in vain to hide his late entry, "so glad you've decided to join us this morning."

Ezra turned around and tried to hide his guilty expression.

"Of course, ma'am," Ezra said, with a dramatic salute, "I'd never miss out on one of my favorite teacher's classes."

"Flattery gets you nowhere in my class," the professor said, "take a seat, and we'll continue."

"Yes ma'am," Ezra said. He took a seat as close to the back of the room as he could and pulled out his laptop to take notes.

Ezra tried his best to pay attention, but the lack of sleep was getting the better of him as Professor Syndulla's lesson dragged on.

"Maybe I could get dad to sit in on class and take notes for me sometime," Ezra thought, "he could listen to her talk for hours."

It was, admittedly, a little weird that his adoptive father was dating his psychology professor, but at least her letter of recommendation helped him get into this school— on the condition that he "applied himself diligently to his studies" and didn't "discredit her influence by trying to coast on it" and all that other stuff they'd told him when she'd suggested he attend Atollon Alliance University.

"But I'm definitely not 'diligently applying myself' if I fall asleep in class," Ezra thought, the notes document before him blurring before his eyes, "and I need to do something to stay awake."

So, he turned to the one thing he'd never be able to sleep through— one of the many videos in his "watch later" tab on youtube. After double checking to make sure his laptop's sound was off and muted— you could never be too careful— he clicked a video titled "spectre_pehonix's top FIFTY EPIC saves!!!" and watched along as he listened to Professor Syndulla's lesson, finding that all that boring stuff about psychology was a lot more interesting when he also had spectre_phonix’s abilities with some grenades against Wraiths, Hunters, and Banshees to focus on.

💜.🎮.🧡

Class wasn't the only time Ezra used gaming videos to focus. He'd never been one for focusing on one task at a time, and usually found that if he sat down to study, he'd end up pulling out his phone and watching videos on YouTube anyways, and that it was better in the long run to start out with some gaming recap video in the background— except on days when spectre_pheonix was streaming during his study sessions, of course, and he'd watch it live, streaming Twitch in one window on his computer and whatever essay he was nearing the deadline on in the other.

Today, for example, he had her stream of Halo in the background of a rousing essay of the themes and morals of The Octopus.

The clock was ticking. 4:23 seconds left to go. The clock only counted down. She drove the Warthog through the groups of retreating Aliens and Flood. 4:07 seconds left to go by this point. She was told to stop, but she knew that that evac point wouldn’t help her. She’d played before, and she knew that the evacuation Pelican was shot down. She kept on driving. At max speed she used an odd floor detailing as a ramp, and jumped a whole group. The stress and tension of the final level made normal players stressed, but not Sabine. 2:25 left on the clock. The point was only about one kilometer away. She kept going, and going, and going. Nothing could stop her now. 1:22 left on the clock, she was within one kilometer away. She would make it! Unless she flipped by mistake. :44 seconds and counting! She saw the Pelican, and started running. She could take the Warthog no farther. She jumped in the Pelican at the last second. Barely beating Halo: Combat Evolved.

"It's like my teacher always says," spectre_pheonix said, "when things are at their worst, I feel like I'm at my best."

Ezra had only been half focusing, but this statement warranted his full attention. It wasn't as though the statement was profound or original— in fact, he'd heard it before. Abandoning his book report for the moment, Ezra expanded the Twitch tab across his whole screen, and ran it back ten seconds, thinking maybe his brain was playing some cruel trick on him.

"When things are at their worst, I feel like I'm at my best."

"That's exactly what Professor Syndulla said in psych class today." Ezra thought, "Is spectre_pheonix in my psychology class? Does she go to Attalon Alliance University too? No, that's crazy. Isn't it?"

His thoughts soon became a cluttered and jumbled mess, so he pulled out a notebook, flipped to random blank page, and after forty-seven minutes had constructed a list that looked something like this:

His results were inconclusive, but he suddenly remembered the book report due in less than an hour, and the two-thousand seventy-three words short he was from the word count.

💜.🎮.🧡

The last decade or so had gone pretty much exactly as Hera had planned. After realizing how important it was to her to help guide young people to their place in the world, she'd set her sights on a philosophy PHD so she could teach at Attalon Alliance University. She'd graduated with honors, and soon began teaching, and it was just as fulfilling as she'd planned it would be.

But what she hadn't considered in her plans was falling in love. When she was in college, she'd been too focused on her studies, and later on her duties as an RA in her dorm, to even consider pursuing a relationship, and by then, well, she figured there weren't a lot of single men in their late twenties interested in dating philosophy professors, so she poured herself into her work instead, and building good connections with her students as much as she could.

But, apparently, she hadn't been entirely correct in her assessment of her prospects. There was, apparently, at least one single man in his late twenties interested in dating philosophy professors— a man by the name of Kanan Jarrus, one who'd figured there weren't a lot of single women in their late twenties interested in dating the kind of guy who'd adopted an eight year old at the age of twenty-one and now had a sixteen year-old son who spent most of his time either playing video games or watching other people play them.

Hera had met Kanan in a chance run-in at a Wisconsin cheese festival, and though there was no denying the spark between them, it took a couple more chance run-ins before she'd agreed to a date. Their relationship progressed slowly, with Hera's career and Kanan's delicate balance of providing for and raising his son, but they'd had more time to see each other over the past year, since his son had enrolled at Attalon Alliance University.

"Morning, Professor Syndulla," Ezra grinned, walking into class one morning.

Though all of Hera's students may as well have been her children, she had a special fondness for that one— and took extra caution to make sure she didn't give him special treatment. Though he hadn't fathered Ezra, Kanan's influence on his life was evident through his actions. Ezra shared a lot of mannerisms with his dad, including an answer or an excuse always at the ready, and a charming smile he seemed to think would absolve himself of guilt. However, there were a lot of qualities they didn't share, and one of them was Ezra's propensity to be late.

It was this propensity for lateness that made Hera do a double-take. Class wouldn't start for another five minutes, and Ezra was here, in class, early.

"Good morning, Mr. Bridger," Hera said, "is there any particular reason you've shown up on time this morning?"

"Maybe I'm finally taking this whole 'education' thing seriously?" Ezra suggested.

"Mhmm," Hera nodded, "and maybe a certain gamer wasn't streaming last night."

"Well, there's that too," Ezra rolled his eyes and headed for his usual seat, towards the back of the classroom.

She watched as the rest of the students made their way into the classroom, and another one caught her attention, and not just because of her brightly colored hair.

"Miss Wren," Hera said, "I enjoyed reading your paper last night."

"Thanks, Professor Syndulla."

That was the entirety of their interaction, but Hera could tell by the smile on her student's face that she had taken it to heart. One time during Sabine Wren's first semester, Professor Syndulla had complimented something she said in class, and from the expression on her face, Hera could tell that kind of positive affirmation was foreign to Sabine— and she made it her personal mission to make sure it wasn't foreign to her anymore. Though their conversations rarely went further than a compliment on the student's hard work and a thank you for the professor, Hera could tell that Sabine appreciated it, in her own way.

💜.🎮.🧡

Ezra had had his own reasons for coming into class on time, and not just to improve his education. He hadn't abandoned his spectre search (or "wild ghost chase," as Jai had called it when Ezra explained it to him,) and his biggest evidence pointed to this class. Maybe if he actually showed up on time, he could get to know his classmates well enough to find out if one of them was her. Instead of listening to her in his headphones as their professor taught, he listened for her in his classroom as their professor took the students' questions, which didn't increase his focus on the lesson at all, but it did give him something to do in class other than watch YouTube recaps and pretend to be taking notes, so it was a nice change of pace.

After class, he hung around a little longer than normal, standing by one of the classroom doorways to see what he could overhear.

When only a few students remained in the classroom, Professor Syndulla approached him.

"Alright, Bridger," she said, "what's your angle?"

"Angle?" Ezra asked, "why do you assume I have 'an angle?'"

"You came to class five minutes early, and instead of making a break for the door as soon as possible, you're hanging around after class is dismissed. Pardon me for being suspicious."

Ezra didn't respond.

"If there's ever anything you want to talk about, I'm here," she said.

"Look, it's nothing," Ezra said, "don't worry about it."

Ezra decided to turn heel and leave before his dad's girlfriend started psychoanalyzing him again.

What Ezra hadn't counted on was someone else walking through the doorway at the same time, and him running into her.

"Watch where you're going," she grumbled, as a textbook and a few notebooks fell out of her arms.

Ezra had seen this kind of scene in movies before, so he figured he may as well pick up the textbooks for her.

"I'm so sorry," he said, crouching down and grabbing the books off the floor, "I didn't…"

She sighed. "It's alright."

Her voice almost seemed familiar— no, it did seem familiar.

"Here you go," Ezra said, getting up and handing her the books, "I, uh…."

He stumbled over his words, because not only did he recognize her voice as one of his favorites in the world, but when he looked up at her face, he saw rich brown eyes, and hair the same color as spectre_pheonix's logo.

"You're good," she smiled as she took the books from him.

"I, uh," he scratched his neck, "I like your hair."

"Nice shirt," she said, and winked as she walked away.

He looked back at her as she left, then back down at his shirt— his favorite shirt he'd ever gotten from his favorite streamer's online shop.

💜.🎮.🧡

Even when Sabine got back to her dorm room after class, the boy who'd bumped into her after class was still on her mind. There wasn't anything exceptional about him, but there was some kind of awe that sparkled across his blue eyes that almost made her feel special.

So, as soon as she got back to her dorm room, weird as it sounded, she decided to draw him— not his whole face, just those eyes that had been fixed on her, tucked between a shaggy crop of hair, and those mysterious scars underneath. It wasn't abnormal for her to draw inspiration from people she'd seen around campus like that.

She also could tell that he must've been a longtime fan of hers. She hadn't sold the "spectre spectator" shirt on her merch site for a couple years, but he had one, and he wore it proudly. She tried to remind herself that there was no way he could've known it was her; she'd been so careful not to leave a trace of her real self online.

Still, as she saw the awe on this fanboy's face, she wondered if that's how all her followers would respond to seeing her. Her follower count was just a number, but she wondered if that number was all awestruck and loyal followers like that one.

So, once she finished the sketch, she went to her Twitch profile. Six-hundred, seven-thousand and eighty-three followers. Six-hundred, seven-thousand and eighty-three people, people just like the one she met today, who appreciated her with an awestruck wonder.

She scrolled through the list of names, and noticed one near the top of the list— spectre_6, whose username she'd seen in the comments of many of her videos over the years. The notification said they were streaming Terraria, and, out of curiosity, she pulled up the stream and decided to check it out.

💜.🎮.🧡

It wasn't very often that Ezra found himself with free time. When he wasn't watching spectre_pheonix's livestreams, or doing homework, or attempting to do both at the same time, he was usually sleeping or hanging out with his friends.

However, today after class, he found himself with free time enough to do a little digging, and add a new page to his conspiracy:

It seemed like a good enough list for now, so he decided that, since spectre_pheonix wasn't streaming right now, he may as well pull up Terraria and do a little streaming of his own.

He was crawling through the pink blocks of his dungeon. Wielding his trusty Horseman’s Blade, he walked through the rough stones of this monster-ridden dungeon. He jumped down a shaft, relying on his jet pack to keep him from dying on the ground. He used the melee/range sword to promptly cut down a nearby Necromancer. He kept running through, and quickly slew several Blue Armored Bones.

Ezra heard the blip of activity in his comment section, and glanced at the sidebar on his screen. It wasn't unheard of for him to get comments on his streams, but it also wasn't very common either.

He glanced at the comment, then did a double take and a triple take. The color of the name was familiar. The username was familiar. There was a checkmark next to her name to show he was following her.

Ezra's heart skipped several beats, like when your teacher calls on you in class, but in a good way, like when you're prepared for it— but he wasn't prepared for this at all, no matter how much he'd dreamed it would happen.

Spectre_pheonix had commented on one of his livestreams.

"OH MY GOSH!" he yelled into the mic, not noticing The Paladin behind him until it was too late. Quite frankly, he didn't care that his “Incompetence was put on display by Paladin’s Hammer” because at least being dead gave him a chance to respond to her comment.

He tried to get back into his game, but couldn't focus, especially when she responded.

She didn't reply to that, and he wondered if she was still even watching. Rather than just check in a normal way, he instead blurted, "spectre_pheonix, if you're still watching, wanna do a collab sometime?"

He was mentally kicking himself in the shins for asking such a foolish question, but was excited when he saw a reply in the comments section:

💜.🎮.🧡

The past week had pretty much been the best week of Ezra's life. Spectre_pheonix rarely collabed with anyone, but the past week they'd joined in together for Minecraft, LEGO Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and Dust: An Elysian Tale, the latter of which, being single player, was just spectre_pheonix playing and spectre_6 giving commentary. Not only was this a dream come true, but it also boosted his meager follower count, and Jai had even stopped picking on him for his fantasy fanboying, instead jokingly referring to Ezra's collabs as "the closest thing he'd ever get to a date." Ezra didn't care.

He'd also been on the lookout more and more for that girl he'd run into, Sabine. Whether or not Sabine was spectre_pheonix, he had yet to decide on, but that didn't change the fact that she was still a pretty girl who'd smiled at him at least once, which definitely kept her in the forefront of Ezra's mind.

💜.🎮.🧡

Sabine rarely shared any information about herself online, but it was hard to plan collab information via Twitch, so she'd exchanged discord handles with spectre_6. Admittedly, he would've been as great a gamer as she was, if maybe he'd had a little more practice playing instead of just spectating. Still, collabs with him were enjoyable, and his sense of humor turned even Dark Souls into a hilarious adventure.

As she took notes on Professor Syndulla's class on her laptop, she kept discord open in a separate tab.

"Miss Wren?" Professor Syndulla asked, "is there something humorous about my lesson on how having traumatic experiences as a child inhibit our ability to make connections in the future?"

"No, ma'am," Sabine said. She hadn't realized how much of a mistake it would be to message spectre_6 in class until now. Usually, the people she'd chat with in class didn't have nearly as great a sense of humor as he did. Surely that was the only reason his conversations had her giggling in the middle of psych class.

💜.🎮.🧡

Ezra had done just enough research in class to find out everything he needed to know about Sabine. He'd positioned himself where he could see her, notice the deep gray of discord in the side corner of her computer next to the class notes. She typed in response to his messages. She laughed in response to his messages. When the teacher called her out for giggling in class, the same thing apparently happened to spectre_pheonix. She closed discord and payed attention in class at the same time spectre_pheonic did.

Ezra was convinced now more than ever: spectre_pheonix's real name was Sabine Wren, and she'd been in his psychology class this whole time.

She was a very private person, and someone finding out who she was definitely wasn't on her radar with how careful she'd been about personal details, so he knew if he brought it up, he'd have to breach the subject very, very carefully.

💜.🎮.🧡

"I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!"

Sabine looked up from her notebook with a start, intending to stick around after class so she could apologize to Professor Syndulla, not so that some random peer could slam his hands on her desk and yell ungrounded accusations at her.

But to her surprise, and in some ways her delight, the student she saw in front of her was the boy she'd bumped into last week, with the same soft blue eyes, the same dark, shaggy hair, and the same purple and orange shirt she'd once sold on her shop.

"What do you mean?" Sabine asked, beginning to pack up her things in an attempt to make a hasty exit.

His voice lowered. "I know you're spectre_pheonix."

She tried to keep a cool head, not to show her abject terror. She knew of a lot of bad things that had happened to celebrities when a crazed fan found them, and couldn't let this one know the truth.

"Who?" she asked, "I'm sorry, I, I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do," he said.

"What makes you so sure?" she asked, trying to stall just a moment as she quickly slung her backpack over her shoulder and turned to leave.

"Because I'm spectre_6."

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned back to look at him, sizing it all up in her mind. He'd clearly been a longtime fan of hers, just like spectre_6 had. Now that she thought about it, his voice sounded familiar, too. He'd also mentioned sitting in class, right when she was, and that the same thing had happened in his class that happened to her.

Still, she needed confirmation.

"What?"

"You started laughing in class today because of my joke about tax evasion," he said, "and then decided to 'sign off and lock in' so you could keep your grades up. Last night after you finished your collab with me, I messaged you a gif of Master Chief saluting and saying "goodnight," and you called me a total dork— that was a high honor, by the way. And then the day before that…"

"Okay, okay," she said, a little quieter, afraid of the few students still in the room overhearing, "I'm convinced. But how did you find out it was me?"

"You quoted Professor Syndulla in your stream a week and a half ago," he said, "and then you complimented my shirt last week, the same shirt I'm wearing now— and yes, I have washed it between then and now— and your hair matches your logo, and, I was watching you today in class— not, like, watching you, watching you. Like, not in a stalker way— oh kriff, am I a stalker? I am so sorry, that's really creepy now that I think about it. Anyways while I was hopefully maybe definitely not stalking you, I noticed that you reacted to every message I sent spectre_pheonix, and my suspicions were confirmed."

And Sabine's suspicions were confirmed when she heard him ramble, the same way spectre_6 always did when he was nervous in-game.

"Nice deduction, spectre_6," she said, feeling so much more comfortable now that she knew that this stranger was a friend she'd already met.

"Call me Ezra," he said, extending a hand to her, "Ezra Bridger."

"Sabine," she said, taking his hand and shaking it, "it's nice to finally meet you."

"You have no idea," he said.

💜.🎮.🧡

Being roommates with Ezra Bridger meant you had to be prepared for anything. Walking into the dorm room and thinking you're alone only to find your roommate under his desk, watching vines, and claiming both those things were for "emotional support." Listening to the most insane rumors and conspiracy theories about your teachers and classmates. Helping hide that stupid orange cat he'd smuggled in. Waking up at 2am to the beeping of a microwave and the smell of pizza rolls. All of this came with the territory, and Jai was professional in handling the insane force of nature that was Ezra Bridger.

But none of it could prepare him for what he saw when he walked into his dorm room one day after lunch and found Ezra cleaning. For someone whose laundry was piled higher than his loft bed, and who acted like he'd never seen a bottle of windex in his life, Ezra sure seemed to have purpose as he rushed around the room, putting away clean clothes while also tidying up the cluttered pile of papers and funko pops that he claimed were hiding a desk.

"May I ask what the occasion is?" Jai asked.

Ezra didn't even turn to look at him as his tornado of tidiness swept across the dorm room.

"Surprise."

"Surprise what?" Jai asked, "like, 'you can't tell me' surprise, or 'you wanted to surprise me by cleaning our room' surprise or 'your dad is coming for a surprise visit' surprise?"

"The first one," Ezra said.

"I'm not even gonna ask," Jai said.

"Good," Ezra said, "because you wouldn't believe me."

There were a lot of things Ezra could do that were unbelievable, but he was pretty sure just cleaning up the room was enough to suspend his standard of disbelief.

Jai sat down at his own desk and pulled out his laptop, figuring he may as well work on his history homework while he waited for the inevitable Bridger surprise.

About ten minutes later, Jai thought he heard a knock on the door, followed by Ezra yelling out "I'M COMING!" and bolting for the door, picking up the last bits of trash off the floor on his way.

Jai watched his roommate fumble to open the door with the trash still in his hand, then toss it into a corner where it wouldn't be seen and pull the door open.

"Sabine," Ezra said, "come on in."

"Alright," a girl's voice said.

A girl?

Ezra Bridger had never talked to a girl in person in all their time at Attalon Alliance University, so naturally Jai was surprised when a beautiful girl followed Ezra into their dorm room.

"Oh, Sabine," Ezra said, "this is my roommate, Jai."

"Nice to meet you," Sabine said, with a smile.

"Pardon the disbelief on my face," Jai said, "I didn't know Ezra even knew how to talk to girls who weren't on his computer."

Ezra looked a touch embarrassed, but his new friend spoke up for him, with half a giggle.

"We met through his computer," Sabine said, "he may have mentioned me. Spectre_pheonix?"

"You mean the Wild Ghost Chase wasn't just another ungrounded conspiracy theory?" Jai asked.

"Wild Ghost Chase?"

"It's called The Spectre Search," Ezra defended, "and yes, as I predicted, spectre_pheonix is, in fact, another student in my psych class."

"I came over to do a collab in person today," she said, "it's a lot better than trying to voice chat over Ezra's grainy mic setup."

"Hey!" Ezra said.

"She's got a point," Jai said, "and I guess my prediction was right too."

"What prediction?" Ezra asked.

"I told you if you ever met her she'd be way out of your league."

"Hey!" Ezra said again. "Don't you have a history report due?"

"Relax, I'm just messing with you," Jai said, "besides, this one's an easy A."

And with that, he turned back to his computer and let Ezra and Sabine have the illusion of privacy for their first in-person edition of "the closest thing Ezra would ever get to a date." Jai put on his headphones and went to his favorite research material: opening Spotify and resuming where he'd last left off in Hamilton: An All American Musical.

💜.🎮.🧡

It wasn't uncommon after that for them to stream in Ezra's dorm room, or in Sabine's when Jai was busy with homework he couldn't risk interruption in. This time was one of those days, because, as Jai cited, "Lin Manuel Miranda didn't write us a musical about algebra," so Ezra found himself on the floor in her room, leaning his back against her bed, while she sat on her bed, her legs dangling off the side next to him.

While they waited to connect on their college's laggy internet, Ezra filled the silence.

"So, how do you think you'll do on that psych test next week?"

"Not too bad, I hope," Sabine said, "you?"

"I just hope dad has room on the fridge for another D-," Ezra said.

"Maybe I can put in a good word with the professor for you," Sabine said, a bit of a laugh in her tone. "She and I have a fairly good rapport."

"If only you knew," Ezra thought.

"Unfortunately, this is one area where I think I do have you beat," Ezra said.

"Are you crazy?" Sabine asked, leaning over the edge of the bed so she could see if his expression was sarcastic, "she's clearly got it out for you. I've never seen her go so hard on any student."

"And why do you think that is?" Ezra asked.

"Because you don't apply yourself in any of your classes and she thinks you're wasting potential?"

"Well, yeah," Ezra said, "but I'm not the only one who does that, and she singles me out anyways."

"And why do you suppose that is?"

Ezra sighed. Professor Syndulla had never mentioned having a boyfriend, at least, not in any of the classes Ezra had been in, and if she had, no one besides Jai would've known it was Ezra's dad. It was a touchy subject for him, so he didn't bring it up much.

But somehow he could tell Sabine would understand.

"She's dating my dad," Ezra said.

"She— what?"

This wasn't normal information for students to know about their teachers, so he understood her confusion.

"How do you think I even got into this school, what, with my grades?" Ezra asked, "if not for her glowing letter of recommendation, I wouldn't even be here right now."

"So your dad is dating your professor so you can get into college?"

"What, no?" Ezra said, "They've been together for years, and I wasn't even thinking about college until long after they met. But dad always thought college would be good for me, and Professor Syndulla offered to help me get in and found me some scholarships."

"So our psych professor is hard on you because she's dating your dad?"

"Yeah, lots of psychology to unpack there." Ezra said.

"How do you feel about it all?"

Ezra paused. He hadn't answered that one honestly in a while, not even when his dad asked him last saturday.

"Do you really wanna know?" Ezra asked.

Sabine slid down off her mattress and sat down next to him, and her presence was already familiar enough to inspire honesty.

"Yeah," she said.

"It's weird," Ezra said, "I guess I never really grasped the idea of having a mom again."

After a moment of silence, Sabine asked another question. "Can I ask what happened to your mom?"

"The same thing that happened to my dad," Ezra said, "my real dad that is— I mean, my birth dad. I don't wanna say Kanan's not my real dad. He raised me for more than half my life, anyways, after my parents went on a missions' trip and never came back."

"Oh."

"It's alright," Ezra said, not letting her waste time on awkward sympathy. "No, no it's not, and to be honest it really sucks, but there's nothing any of us could've done to stop it. And Kanan, he was always there for me, even before my parents left."

Sabine didn't answer, but it felt nice to talk to her about it anyways, so he hoped she didn't mind that he continued.

"They're getting married," he said.

"What?"

"Professor Syndulla and my dad," Ezra said. "Well, she doesn't know it yet, and maybe she'll say no again, but I don't think so. Dad's proposing at dinner on Friday."

Sabine nodded again, clearly trying to process everything he'd said.

"I'm sorry," Ezra said, "I didn't mean to make this a pity party."

"Don't be," Sabine said, "this is what friends are for."

"Friends?" Ezra thought, with a smile. Two months ago he'd been her fan, and she hadn't even known he existed. And now they were friends? He could get used to this.

"But just so we're clear," Sabine said, "I don't pity you."

"What?"

"You have a dad who thinks the world of you," Sabine said, "and I'd kill to have a mom like Professor Syndulla."

"Why?" Ezra asked.

"Because I know what it's like to have a mom who's not like her," Sabine said, "a mom who's not proud of you. A mom who doesn't compliment the sketches you draw in the margins of your notes. A mom whose biggest dream is for you to drop out of your art major so you can join the family business instead."

"I, I'm sorry," Ezra said.

"I don't need your sympathies either," Sabine said.

Ezra put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, trying to find the words to say. Someone whose whole persona was built on a mask of online secrecy had just shared something so personal with him, and he didn't know what to say.

"You're getting them anyways," Ezra said, "do you want to talk at all?"

"What's there to say?" Sabine said, "that family business always came before family? That even my own brother thought it was more fun to game with his friends than his sister? That my parents wouldn't give a single dime for my tuition, and if it wasn't for my merch money and some massive scholarships I wouldn't even be here?"

"Do you wanna come to dinner on Sunday?"

"What?" Sabine asked, apparently shocked out of her despair.

"I always go to my dad's for a family dinner on Sunday afternoon after church. Professor Syndulla does too. We're probably gonna be celebrating the engagement, and then she's gonna beat us in our weekly game of Ticket to Ride. It's incredibly boring, but if you wanna join us anyways…"

"I'll be there," Sabine said with a smile.

And instead of returning to her normal seat, she stayed next to Ezra as they remembered why they were there in the first place and began their game together.

💜.🎮.🧡

Sunday ended up being one of the most enjoyable days Sabine had had in a long time. She ended up tagging along with Ezra that morning when he went to church, so he wouldn't have to drive back to the school to pick her up. It was a new experience for her, but he didn't seem to mind. Afterwards, they went back to Ezra's dad's house— Ezra's house, technically— for a family dinner, along with Professor Syndulla, who was absolutely beaming as she showed off her engagement ring. Another one of Kanan's family friends, whom Ezra referred to as "Uncle Zeb," was there as well, along with the professor's cat, Chopper, who couldn't be trusted to stay at home alone for a whole afternoon without destroying the place. The game of Ticket to Ride that came out after dinner only had enough pieces for four players, but Ezra and Sabine teamed up so everyone could play— and even with their combined mental resources, they were still no match for Professor Syndulla.

As they drove back to school, Sabine reminded herself why Ezra had done this. Not a single person at that dinner was related to each other— and yet, they were family— and Ezra wanted Sabine to be part of it too.

Maybe this "friendship" thing wasn't so bad after all.

💜.🎮.🧡

Spectre_pheonix and spectre_6 had been doing collaborative streams for most of the past month. Her fans really enjoyed his commentary on her skills, often leaving comments about how well her dry wit complimented his whimsical sense of humor, and how well they worked together. Both of them gained more followers because of it, which Ezra thought was almost impossible, because how could there have been people on Twitch who weren't already following her?

"You ever read the comment section?" Ezra asked one day as they were playing Minecraft.

"Not often. Why?"

"Look at these," Ezra said, then read a few of them out loud.

"That last one is true, at least," Sabine said, and it would've been harsh if he hadn't seen the twinkle in her warm brown eyes.

"That last one was my roommate," Ezra said, glaring across the room at Jai, who smiled innocently.

"Oh, but this one isn't," Ezra said, reading off the latest comment:

He smiled at Sabine.

"That's a great question," Ezra said, into the mic so the commenter could hear. "Hey, spectre_pheonix, wanna go out on Friday?"

Sabine looked at him and smiled. "Sounds like a date," she said.

"Great," Ezra said, then turned back to his mic, unable to hold back an enormous grin as he said, "Yes, yes we are."

💜.🎮.🧡

By all accounts, it should've been weird for them to go out on a date instead of just hanging out and playing video games. It should've been weird when Ezra showed up at Sabine's door, wearing a nice button down shirt instead of her merch, holding a bouquet of purple and orange roses instead of his custom gaming controller. It should've been weird as they sat down to eat something nicer than dining hall pizza or a bag of doritos that ended up half-strewn across the dorm room floor as they blasted away at each other in Halo. It should've been weird when Ezra put on a playlist in the car of the cringiest but most endearing love songs she'd ever heard, and even more so when they found themselves singing along, and it should've been weird when Ezra put his arm around her during the movie and she leaned in closer, and it should've been weird when they walked out of the theater and he put his coat over her bare shoulders without her even needing to tell him she was cold. It should've been weird when, instead of ending the evening with, "so, Terraria tomorrow?" it ended with a couple "I had a great time"s and a delicate first kiss.

It should've been weird, but it wasn't. It wasn't weird at all that they had more in common than their love of video games. It wasn't weird at all that conversations with him came naturally and being in his presence felt like breathing. It wasn't weird at all that, as soon as she was alone, Sabine found herself leaning back against her dorm room door and sighing dramatically like the heroine of a cheesy romcom.

It wasn't weird at all. In fact, it was perfect.

#sabezra #the sabezra gamergirl au #sabine wren #ezra bridger #fanfic #sabezra fic #modern au #college au #gamergirl au #kanera #hera syndulla #kazzy writes sabezra oneshots

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pepperonidk · 5 months ago

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in the tower, in the moonlight || l.sm

Pairing: lee seokmin x gn!reader Summary: didn’t anyone tell you? the tower is a sacred place for lovers. Warnings: angst, no plot, seokmin is implied royalty Word count: 956

a/n: lol another seokmin royalty fic. this one is based off fire emblem… the brain rot is so real. pls let me know if you want a part 2 to this bc there might be something cooking. the summary is a direct line from the game HAHA.

main masterlist || taglist

“Have you heard the legend of this tower?”

A smile spread across your face as you reached the top of the spiraling steps. Seokmin didn’t even need to turn around for you to know he was smiling as well. The perks of indulging yourself in secret trysts with the future king included having a secret room exclusively for clandestine meetings for lovers.

You crossed the room in a few steps, and you felt Seokmin relax as you wrapped an arm around his waist, taking your place at his side. He turned to face you with the trademark smile that he reserved for these meetings.

“Do enlighten me,” you answered finally.

Seokmin turned back to the window with a wistful look on his face. From the window, you could hear the music from the revelries downstairs much clearer. There were couples in view, dancing in the courtyard with laughter and you could tell immediately what was occupying your lover’s thoughts.

“They say that wishes made in this tower come true,” he explained. “That the gods who watch over this tower listen a little bit closer to voices that come from this tower.”

You let out a chuckle and feel Seokmin adjust your positions so that he’s holding your hand in his. “Do you believe that?”

Seokmin shook his head with a quiet laugh. “I don’t think I do,” he replied. “But will you indulge a wishful prince anyway?”

“After you, your highness.” Seokmin rolled his eyes at your use of his title before extending his hand out to you.

“I wish to dance with you,” he stated quietly.

You pulled him towards you, letting your hands take their time in traveling up his arms before finding their place at the back of his neck. Like instinct, Seokmin found his hands at your waist. He breathed a sigh of relief as he held you close. The two of you swayed quietly, remaining close to the window to catch the faint glows of the moon and the candle-lit lanterns that lined the courtyard.

“Maybe some legends hold some weight,” you eventually whispered.

“Then might I try to push my luck with the gods tonight?”

You nodded ever so slightly. You tried to decipher the look on his face in the barely present light.

Between secret meetings in the tower at the dead of night and knowing looks buried in simple “good mornings,” you had become an expert in reading the looks on Seokmin’s face. Like the slight upward quirk of his eyebrow as he greets you each morning, asking if you slept well and dreamt of him, and the private smiles he reserves for you after a long day of wearing an insincere grin like a mask, reminding you that he misses you.

You had become fluent in this secret language, so why was it that right now, in the moonlit stillness of your secret haven, the plea that was etched in his features felt so alien to you?

“Will you marry me?” The question was almost buried by the echoes of music that had floated from the ball that went on downstairs. You shifted so your head was resting in the crook of his neck, one hand in his, held against his rapidly beating heart, and his other arm secured around your waist.

“One day, my love,” you had chuckled in response. You hoped the echo of your own racing heart would not betray you. The lack of response made you turn your head up, only to see that you were laughing alone. “My love?” you prompted.

Seokmin let out a sigh and rested his head against yours, removing his hand from your waist and dropping your hand to instead cup your cheek gently between his calloused hands. He pulled his head back and gave you a soft smile. “Will you marry me?” The question rang again, louder now, as if it was the only sound in the world. His eyes were glassy and you could now see the dark bags that had formed under his eyes. It was obvious the hours he spent thinking about this moment. You stopped to wonder what fantasies you’d destroyed in your response.

You could hear yourself speaking before you could even register your mouth opening. “Seokmin… I… I can’t.” Before the last syllable even fell, you could see the relenting disappointment on his face. The moonlight now turned his skin a sickly pale color and the music from down below fell into a roaring cacophony. His hands fell limp against his sides as you took a step back.

A deep breath escaped your lips as you steeled yourself to turn around and walk away. It wasn’t difficult to etch his figure as it was right then into your memory. It was a sharp contrast from the upstanding, bright and bubbly figure that had come to lead the kingdom into a burgeoning new era. It was the exact reason you had convinced yourself you had to walk away from him.

After a moment that felt simultaneously an eternity and not long enough, you took the first step away from him. Before you could take a second, his voice ran through again.

“Wait… just-- wait,” the ironclad grip around your wrist made you pause and turn back around to meet the dark brown eyes that seemed to be searching you for an answer. His voice was unsure, desperate, pleading. “Please… stay.” And although everything in you seemed to scream at you to give in and rest your head against his neck, to breathe in nothing but the comfort of his scent, the call of duty cut through like an alarm, enough for you to pull your hand out of his grip.

“Goodbye, Seokmin.”

taglist: @yksthings @coveyland @xuimhao @sana-is-ms-rmty @gummymintae @jespecially @iamawkwardandshy

#DK #dokyeom #lee seokmin #dokyeom x reader #lee dokyeom #seokmin x reader #Seventeen imagine #seokmin fluff #dokyeom fluff #seventeen dk #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #dk x reader #lee seokmin x reader #dk scenarios #dk imagines #dk fluff #lee seokmin imagines

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chaifootsteps · 4 months ago

Note

saw a comment somewhere - think it was the hb reddit - pointing out how dumb it is that full moon ends with Blitz starting to say 'I'm sorry'

then the very next episode frames his major character flaw as not being able to apologize

not only are they treating viewers like goldfish but this was never a problem Blitz had before

he apologizes profusely to Loona in seeing stars, Stolas in Ozzies and again in Full Moon. they show him being very quick to feel bad and try and apologize when Stolas whines and cries

even with Verosika he doesn't act like the credit card thing wasn't wrong back in s1e3 - he just complains that she 'won't let it go'

but apology tour tries to spin it like he's only capable of insincere apologies or apologizing for the 'wrong' thing.

They know that a good chunk of this show's audience might as well be goldfish, and like goldfish, they'll happily bite the fins off their tankmates who point out plot holes like this one.

#Anonymous #helluva boss critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

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woodchipp · 7 months ago

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"her actions have shown [how much she cares]" not being backed up by any of her actions throughout the game aside, this summary gets even funnier if you take a closer look at what kicks off the plot of One Day Left - Sunny, Kel and Hero confronting Aubrey at her house.

I have Things to say about that scene, both in terms of how it relates to Aubrey and to the game's writing in general.

Right off the bat, the game uses a milder version of "hell" right before inexplicably making Aubrey use the word itself. Something like

AUBREY: ...! AUBREY: Wh-What are you guys doing here?! AUBREY: GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM!!

would've worked just as fine, in my opinion.

This game had three editors, by the way.

When pressed, the first thing Aubrey says about the incident at the lake is a straight-up lie in an attempt to diminish the severity of her wrongdoing. No, her watery eyes aren't going to convince me she's genuinely sorry.

1) Here it is again. Instead of owning up to her behavior at the very least, she continues trying to make the incident seem less severe than it actually was.

2) You "didn't mean to" push Basil into the lake even though he was obviously standing right at the edge of the pier? And you knew he was incapable of swimming? You're a fuckwad.

Accident or no accident, he was in active danger of dying. You chose to argue with Kel on the pier since that was more of a priority to you than trying to save your close friend.

And then she tries to reduce the severity of what she did for the third time! Sure, she does seem to apologize afterwards

but then immediately falls back on deflecting blame, which makes the apology come off as insincere.

Really, I would've preferred Aubrey being upfront about being a prick. Her incessant attempts to blame everyone and everything but herself for her choices don't make her complex because the game speedruns her redemption and we don't get to see her growth, which is also why said attempts become very grating after a certain point.

Aubrey isn't the only character I take issue with here, though.

1) Hero. My dude. Your own brother accused Aubrey of nearly killing another friend of yours. Aubrey confirmed said accusation. And you still dismiss it as a harmless squabble like the ones they had in their childhood days??

Either he's also stuck in his childhood mentally or he's just - and I'm not going to mince words here - a moron.

2) I love that Hero's reaction implies he still doesn't seem to take Kel seriously. You'd think he'd try to be more mindful of his little brother following that furious outburst, but nope. He still seems to view Kel as a rash little child he has to rein in.

One could argue this is meant to show that the charscters are flawed, and in a better story, I'd actually be inclined to agree. I like the idea of Hero struggling to move on from his role as the group's "dad", and I'd have liked if the story forced him to understand he can't keep playing their dad with a situation much more complicated than a "typical Kel and Aubrey fight". Likewise, Hero's perception of Kel as an impulsive, bratty kid persisting to the present day and causing friction with Kel himself would've made for an interesting conflict.

Of course, this isn't a better story, so after Kel and Aubrey's reactions, Hero's shallow peacemaking is promptly (and conveniently) forgotten when he notices the last bunch of missing photos.

Peak writing, everyone!

This game took six years and $200,000, by the way. No, I won't stop mentioning that.

My sister in Christ you are literally wearing her fucking headband. You were also given some of her other clothes, it seems.

If Aubrey's problem was about having nothing to remember Mari by, it's null and void to me because she clearly does have more than just the photos. Not only that, but this also comes off as the game trying to use Aubrey's grief as an excuse for her treatment of Basil, which is disgusting for reasons I shouldn't need to explain.

(oh, and Sunny's just Standing There. he doesn't contribute anything to the conversation at all. he could've been removed from this scene altogether and nothing of value would be lost. the main character of all time, truly)

#omori #omori game #omori aubrey #omori kel #omori hero #omori sunny #omori basil

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fandomsimagined · 9 months ago

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hoax (Nikolai Lantsov x Reader) - Prologue

Title: hoax - prologue

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

Warnings: Language, death, violence

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: When Sturmhond stumbles across a Kerch pirate ship transporting stolen Ravkan goods, he takes it upon himself to confront the captain only to bind himself faced with a potential ally or yet another adversary.

Author’s Note: Hi! it’s me again coming to you with yet another Shadow and Bone fic. This is one I’ve had in my brain for quite some time and it will follow the canon storyline (not completely of course but for the most part). Nikolai is one of my favorite character of all time so I really really hope that I did him justice with this. I hope you enjoy! If you have any requests, please feel free to send them in! I write for all of the grishaverse characters pretty much. Sorry for such a long authors note. I hope you enjoy!

Nikolai smiled and nodded with apparent approval. His years of diplomatic training were finally paying off, his years of pretending to listen in on meetings with foreign ambassadors when he was younger had prepared him for these types of situations. Though, he imagined his parents meant for it to be utilized in a more civilized setting. The issue came in with the fact that Nikolai was many things: he was an excellent shot, dashingly handsome even as a ruddy pirate, and perhaps a tad bit egotistical at times, in an endearing way, of course; but he wasn’t stupid. It was quite obvious to the privateer that the fellow captain was lying. He didn’t even need Tolya or Tamar to confirm.

The Kerch captain seemed to be blind to Nikolai’s insincerity, because he kept rambling.He had to admit, he was good. If it was anyone other than Nikolai, they might have fallen for the falsehoods that were spewing out of his mouth, but Nikolai knew better. The goods on his ship were Ravkan, stolen from a Ravkan trade ship on its way to Novyi Zem. Nikolai had been trying to entertain the conversation long enough to find out if the captain (whose name still hadn’t been divulged, and he didn’t care enough to ask) was working with a larger coalition plotting against the Lantsov throne. The more he spoke, the less likely Nikolai found that scenario. This captain was working only for himself, which was wonderful news. He’d like to set sail as quickly as possible. The dark grey clouds looming overhead indicated that they would be in for quite the trip back to Os Kervo.

Tamar was standing to his side, fingers tight around the handles of her beloved axes. He was right. He was lying. Her demeanor told him everything he already knew. That the captain was lying and that he was going to try and ambush them to escape. Tolya had a grip on his blade as well. Neither one of them needed the weapons–they could simply rip the air from someone's lungs with just a few movements of their hands–but they always did have a flair for the dramatic. Something that he most definitely had no experience with.

“There’s no need to be hostile.” The captain held up his hands in a mock surrender, a chuckle escaping from his throat. “We’re just having a casual conversation.”

Nikolai gripped his pistol in the holster on his side. He was slightly offended that the captain actually thought that he didn’t know what was going on–despite that it was what he’d intended. He’d hoped that his reputation had preceded him enough that the captain would’ve tried a little bit harder. This was amateur work, and since Nikolai had gathered that this particular captain was well-experienced in the art of stolen goods, it was because he thought that it would fool Nikolai–Sturmhond.

The captain’s eyes flickered to the crow’s nest where Nikolai could just barely make out two figures. At least one was a heartrender, he presumed. They were stationed there to snuff the life out of him if things went awry. He figured that the one closest to him was a decoy, that way they wouldn’t know which one the true heartrender was and that they would assume incorrectly. That’s what he would do. They just didn’t realize that Nikolai had two heartrenders of his own.

Nikolai shifted his weight, maintaining his aura of confidence–though it wasn’t hard. He was quite certain that even though this crew was experienced, that he could take all of them on his own if necessary, but he had Tolya and Tamar with him.

“Really? Seems your men didn’t get the message. I don’t usually keep heartrenders on hand for a conversation.” Nikolai gestured to the crow’s nest. “You know, communication between a captain and his crew is key in running a successful business venture. I might suggest trying some trust exercises to really make sure that you’re on the same page.”

He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t enjoy the panic that flickered over the captain’s face. “They’re only there as a precaution. I’m sure you understand the need for such matters as a captain yourself.”

“Of course, though I do wonder why such precautions would be necessary if you just intended to have a casual conversation, as you put it.” Nikolai wondered aloud, though he didn’t really wonder. He knew. He was going to try and take over his ship too. Over his dead body. “See, what I think is that you wanted to get caught by the dashingly handsome Sturmhond. The only thing that leaves me quite puzzled is why. Do you plan to kill me? Take my ship? Tell all of your pirate buddies that you fought Sturmhond and won?” Nikolai clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Many men have tried to do the same, and yet none have succeeded. Why do you think that is?”

“Probably because you talked them to death,” the captain scoffed, sweat forming at his brow. Another lesson in diplomatic training. How to talk for long periods of time making people believe that it’s about something important, but really nothing of any value was said. It was strange. There didn’t seem to be much difference between pirates and political figures, but that rabbit hole was for another time.

“Good guess, but no.” Nikolai shook his head. “It’s because I don’t let my crew do my dirty work for me.” He lowered his voice. “If you want that ship, you’re going to have to kill me for it, and I assure you I won’t make it easy.”

“I’ve killed much stronger men for less,” he sneered.

Nikolai couldn’t hold in the bout of laughter that erupted. While he was aware that there were much stronger men than him out there, he just couldn’t imagine that he’d killed them considering he wasn’t smart enough to notice what Nikolai was really playing at. “I’m sure. And were those much stronger men the ones that you smuggled these goods from?”

“I’m not wasting any more time with this.” The captain raised his hand slightly–a signal to his grisha to stop his heart right then and there. Nikolai waited patiently, but as he already suspected, nothing happened. While Nikolai was busy monologuing, Tolya had discreetly dropped their pulses. His grisha were taking a nice long nap, which meant that they could go ahead and wrap this up in a nice little bow. Surely, he wasn’t dumb enough to actually try and fight him on his own.

Tamar couldn’t suppress a smirk from playing on her lips, and Nikolai had to admit, he was having a hard time doing so as well.

“You don’t make your crew do your dirty work, eh?” The captain raised his eyebrows.

“They just made it a fair fight. I told you, if you want my ship, you’ll have to kill me for it. What I meant was that you would have to kill me for it, so if you’d like to try, go ahead, or you can hand over the goods you stole and we’ll call it a day; though I’d like to get this over with quick. There’s somewhere I need to be, so make up your mind quickly.”

“Why you little–” The captain’s sentence was cut short. He clutched his chest and fell to the deck, blood trickling from his lips. Nikolai frowned. Tolya and Tamar were right beside him and they hadn’t moved, awaiting his orders.

“Did you?” Tamar looked at Tolya who shook his head.

“No, but it was a heartrender.”

Nikolai glanced around the ship once more, trying to find a sign of another ship or crew. The Kerch’s grisha were down and they were the only others on the boat. Was it someone on the Kerch’s crew? Why would they want him dead?

“There’s no one else around.” Tamar stated, though her grip hadn’t loosened on her weapons.

“We have to assume the worst,” Nikolai warned. “If there is another heartrender on the ship, then I’m sure they aren’t happy with us, so stay sharp.”

“There’s no need. My qualms aren’t with you.” A girl stepped into view from the captain’s quarters. He hadn’t even realized the door was open. She looked to be around his age–seventeen or eighteen.

She stepped over the dead captain, standing in front of them, clearly not afraid. Nikolai grabbed his pistol, Tamar and Tolya wielding their respective weapons as well. It was no use. Had she wanted him dead, she wouldn’t have come out. She could have easily had the three of them down in seconds. No this was a personal vendetta against the captain.

“Why?” Tamar asked.

“So that I can get off of this stupid fucking boat.”

#Spotify #grishaverse #fanfiction #imagine #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine

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princeescaluswords · 6 months ago

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ur addition to ur post about scott being forced to treat derek terribly reminded me of the way ppl react to alina killing the darkling. like yeah her killing him was the only way to resolve the situation she'd been put in (by darkles himself). yet ppl keep doing rewrites where alina is meant to 'fix' him or joins his side like. Huh?????

(I must preface this with the reminder that I have only seen the Shadow and Bone television series. I know nothing of any differences that might be in the novels.)

There's nothing wrong with rewriting a story; that's what fanfiction is for, after all. But if someone wishes to write an ending where Alina Starkov chooses Aleksander Morozova, they have their work cut out for them. It requires them to alter the characters and histories of either the Sun Summoner or the Darkling (or both) so much that they literally become different characters. My concern (and I think you share in this) is that people believe that Alina, as portrayed, could easily have chose to be with Aleksander, as portrayed, and they could have a happily ever after.

I can't possibly see any scenario where this can be true. Let us propose, for example, that we vanish Mal Orestev. Poof! He never existed. Alina's early life would still have been dominated by oppression and prejudice, oppression and prejudice that exists in part because of Aleksander's choices, no matter how noble the motivations for those choices were at the beginning. While grisha have always faced oppression, Alina's youth was shaped by fear and disenfranchisement; her life was defined by either her race, her poverty (exacerbated by the Fold), or her potential as the Sun Summoner. This world, in turn, was shaped by Aleksander's actions. No matter how charming and passionate the Darkling is, Alina's history and her character would propel her to question her own feelings for him and his feelings for her. Alina would be betraying every part of herself if she chose the life promised by Aleksander, and I think the story, as portrayed, makes that very clear.

But let's say she did it anyway; with her strength of will, she decided that she would join with the Darkling and accept the injustice done to her (and everyone else) as insufficient to prevent her from being with him. There still can be no happy ending in sight. Nothing in the history or character of Aleksander Morozova indicates that he would be content or even able to treat Alina as an equal, as a real partner. He certainly didn't respect her when she defied him. Everything we see and know about him indicates a pattern of dominating everyone around him, from his loyal followers to his own mother. I don't feel that the fact that Alina is his equal in magical power would help their relationship in any way. Aleksander would see in the Sun Summoner a danger if he could not control her, and Alina would have to become submissive.

Again, fanfiction has great powers of transformation, but there is a limit to how far a writer can stretch plot, setting, and most importantly characterization before it must be questioned if there is still a meaningful connection to the original material. Once that point is breached, readers like you and me have to question if the writer is actually not a fan but only insincerely passing themselves off as one.

This is my problem with the many spiteful interpretations of Master Plan (2x12). For example, I often bring up that people rewriting that scene tend to ignore the immediate mortal danger Allison was in when Gerard demands Scott make Derek bite him. Their motivation is obvious. The know as well as I do that there is nothing in Scott's nature or history, as portrayed, would lead him to place place Derek's autonomy above saving Allison's life, especially when Scott knows that Derek's Bite will disable (if not kill) Gerard and thus save Derek, Allison, and Derek's pack as well? There is simply no alternative that makes sense.

Like Alina, Scott's decisions had been shaped by what he had endured for the previous twenty-four episodes. While, contrary to popular fandom interpretation, he didn't hate Derek, being honest with Derek would require him to ignore too much. Derek had concealed information from him (the alpha's very existence), manipulated him repeatedly ("It's not going to come for free"), disregarded his needs ("I can't let her live!"), and outright betrayed him three times (the locker room shower, the cure, Peter's resurrection). Derek had demonstrated that he would chose lethal violence repeatedly and -- what is arguably worse -- had been a spectacular failure every time he tried to do that. Gerard, on the other hand, had delivered on every single threat he had made. Peter himself made that point in Battlefield (2x11): "You weren't ready. Because of it, Gerard is winning." The wisest plan was the one Scott went with. The only possible counter argument -- Derek's terrible history with Kate -- was something that Scott did not know about. There's a reason Derek didn't hold Master Plan against Scott, and it wasn't bad writing.

I feel our dissatisfaction with particular fandom behaviors isn't about some insistence that canon is sacrosanct. To us, the transformation they are performing is incomplete and ill-wrought, like a badly Photoshopped picture where someone we appreciate ends up having three arms, because the writer/fandom isn't working with the whole subject but only the parts that they want to change, yet they try to pass it off as a real picture. For me, personally, this dissatisfaction also arises from the idea that there are not-so-hidden motivations for the transformation: racism, classism, decadence, and misogyny.

Fiction often portrays dark events as well as heroic events, and if it is quality fiction, all those events are clearly motivated and make sense according to the plot and within the setting. It's an organic whole. Alina would not choose the Darkling and be happy because it goes against everything we know about both of them; Scott created his Master Plan because it goes along with everything we've watched him experience. Different outcomes would require different stories.

#alina starkov #scott mccall #aleksander morozova #derek hale #gerard argent #fanfiction problems #fandom problems #scott mccall defense squad

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josies-not-suicidal-now · 2 months ago

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So this year Magic: the Gathering took some bold new directions in its aesthetic, We got a cowboy set: Outlaws of Thunder Junction, which up until now would have been too modern for a card game that defines itself as fantasy, and Duskmourn: House of Horror, which is even more modern, because it's a world inhabited by the characters in 80s horror flicks, including 80s clothes and haircuts, and initially seeing the art I really thought that WOTC may have gone too far with this one, but I think WOTC may have actually managed to make it work this time, I think they may have made a coherent fantasy world based off of 80s horror tropes,

there's something about the way this setting is explored in the cards that makes it feel alive, with stories and personal experience, and a community of people who barely survive day after day in a house of horror, it feels surreal in exactly that way that makes it feel deeply human, kinda like one of the alternate universeses in everything everywhere all at once,

see magic no longer does blocks, which makes each plane feel quickly visited and short lived and I think it's kind of made each new plane we've visited feel a bit more shallow, because the game doesn't have the time to ramble on about the minutia of each plane in that way that gives a world that feeling of life, and I think Duskmourn manages to tell a convincing story even with the reduced amount of time

EEAAO faces a similar problem, it wants you to witness the breadth of experiences in more universes than there is time to thoroughly explore in the runtime of a conventional movie, and it solves that problem by being incredibly sincere, by making each universe so known, and so tropey that we're essentially already familiar with all the characters when they're introduced, we've seen each story somewhere before, we already have reason to care about each character, they're more like pure symbols than specific people, and so the movie can skip to focusing on the feelings those characters go through, rather than getting all caught up in explaining the details of each universe they explore

And I think that's what makes Duskmourn successful from a flavor perspective in a way that OTJ just didn't manage,

OTJ suffers from the fact that it's a story about colonialism told by colonists, had it leaned more heavily into the film tropes it may have even been able to convince us otherwise, but instead it wanted all the cowboy puns it could take, as well as mechanics like crime and outlaws, and also wanted to seriously confront the racist history of cowboy films, and also wanted to feature a bunch of recurring characters from magic's past just kinda sprinkled in all over the place, like a marvel movie, and it ended up caught up in the middle between silly and serious, and the aesthetic of this set ends up feeling like it's straight out of a free to play mobile game, it's incoherent, insincere, and too caught up in explaining plot to ever make any of the emotions of the characters feel real

Duskmourn on the other hand is unabashedly sincere, all of the humans in this set look like their art was taken from a freeze frame of a horror movie, it's not ashamed of leaning into its source material, so many of the cards look like protagonists caught in the middle of a plot, but none of them are legendary, they're the normal residents of this plane, be they elderly mentors who warn of danger, or rebellious teens in the depths of isolation, or snarky nerds who think they've got the ghosts figured out, we're not being told to relate to these characters because they showed up in some magic set 15 years ago, but because they're that person, from that horror movie we've watched and the other horror elements only manage to make the sincerity even deeper, the clowns and dolls are silly freaky, they create the atmosphere of cheesiness that lets your mind engage directly with feeling, just like the silliness in EEAAO, and then the fears are literal embodiments of feelings, just like the glimmers with optimism and joy, more symbols than character, the set is literally about the feelings these characters have to endure to survive, it's brilliant! It makes me feel something!

I don't even know the official story of Duskmourn, I don't think I really care what happens to kaito or the wanderer or nashi, they're part of the wider magic story which is always a bit stilted and a bit awkward, but I know antisocial loner, I care about her, I care about the world she lives in, it looks coherent in its psychedelic surreality, I relate to living in that kind of world, everyone was wrong to be so down on this set's aesthetic, it does wonders with it

#mtg #duskmourn #words

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thevampiremars · 1 year ago

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My thoughts on the trans rep in "The Star Beast"

This episode is haunted by the spectre of Good Representation™. Representation is a topic too expansive and nuanced for me to interrogate fully, so I'll just say I'm sceptical of the approach and the way it reduces trans (or otherwise marginalised) characters to plot points or blandly by-the-book portrayals. Also the idea that any single character can accurately represent an entire demographic is tenuous. Anyway.

Throughout the episode there's a huge focus on how beautiful Rose is, which is... I mean, I'd hardly be the first person to point out how Weird people (cis people especially) can get about how trans people look. And I get that this is probably a deliberate attempt to counter transphobia, to stress that trans people are cherished and deserve the world. It is a sweet sentiment I suppose, but it can come across as a bit... insincere? patronising? fetishistic, even? You have to recognise that correlating a person's worth with how beautiful you think they are is problematic in and of itself.

I actually really like the scene where Sylvia is stumbling on pronouns and worrying about whether or not it's okay to call Rose gorgeous. It's cute. It's genuine. I wasn't sure about the boys on bikes scene that preceded it – I thought deadnaming Rose was a clumsy way to establish that she's trans – but I've watched the episode again and my opinion has softened. I think it works well to have the malicious misgendering side-by-side with the accidental misgendering, showing that, yes, there is a difference. I know this already, but cis people who get confused about terminology and etiquette might benefit from watching this.

Speaking of pronouns... haha. Yeah, I did not like the "are you assuming he as a pronoun?" "my chosen pronoun is the definite article" exchange. Very awkward and nonsensical. It could have worked with some tweaking, but as it stands it feels more like a transphobic joke than actual dialogue. Ditto "male-presenting Time Lord."

Side note: why are some people so thrown off by the Doctor's gender? It's really not that complicated. The Doctor's pronouns vary depending on whether we're talking about an individual incarnation or the Doctor as a whole, encompassing all incarnations. If we're talking about a specific Doctor, they've all been he/him so far except for the Thirteenth and Fugitive Doctor (both she/her). If we're referring to all Doctors as one entity, it makes sense to use they/them since they're not consistently one gender or another. The Doctor is technically nonbinary I guess but only because they have the ability to regenerate into any gender. They're genderfluid only if you squint.

ANYWAY.

Is Rose nonbinary? Again, the "binary, binary, nonbinary" line just felt like a joke. Plus it doesn't make a lot of sense as a plot point/reveal. Rose's gender shouldn't actually be relevant because what's important for the meta-crisis thing is that she's Donna's offspring. There's also the fact that Rose had been presented as a trans girl until that point – no indication that she's nonbinary. Yes, it is possible to be a nonbinary girl, but it seems more likely to me that RTD just thinks nonbinary and trans are synonymous. Which is not the case.

The thing is, as I've alluded to already, Rose is an example of trans rep written by cis people for cis people. RTD's heart is in the right place, for sure, but he doesn't really know what he's talking about. I would say I appreciate the effort? But I don't know what the effort was in aid of exactly. I suppose it's nice for cis people to be told it's okay to stumble on pronouns sometimes, and to be shown that transness isn't a horrible and scary thing. I dunno. It's frustrating that trans people in life and in fiction have to educate and inspire and reassure cis people all the time... but we live in a society, don't we? And I'm sure there will be plenty of young trans people thrilled to see someone like them on TV, even if the execution could have been better.

#doctor who #doctor who spoilers #the star beast

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valle-de-sombra-de-muerte · 5 months ago

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Homestuck Reread: Act 2, Part 2/3 (p. 440-614)

Read the previous post here.

We pick up this second third of Act 2 by reading another section of Rose's GameFAQs walkthrough.

Credit where it's due, I like this section title.

Rose wants to know more about this hypothetical Pornsprite. This girl is freaky. Too bad Ao3 didn't go into open beta until a few months after Homestuck began, she would've been all about it.

Interesting how she only cites part of her guide as "logorrheic sludge." Honey, that's the entire guide. Brevity is not your strong suit.

Rose and Jade's first pesterlog. I'll use this as the jumping off point to talk about Jade since she has only appeared sporadically at this point and none of her logs were worth talking about.

Actually, she did have one log in Act 1 where she asks John about his present. The one interesting thing is that she apparently didn't know what Sburb was when John mentioned it.

So John, Rose, and Dave all knew about Sburb and none of them thought to tell Jade about it? Huh... guess that tells us a lot about the dynamics of their friend group.

Anyway, I realize this might be a "hot take" given her inexplicable popularity in the fandom, but I don't like Jade. And unlike with John, there never was a point where I did. I am of the mind that Homestuck would've been much stronger and have a tighter pace if she was cut from the cast of kids (or at least, this version of her. The story could also work if she had some heavy rewrites) and it was limited to John, Rose, and Dave. Rose and Dave alone make for an engaging pair, and I suppose John acts as a sort of "anchor" to ground their increasingly esoteric insincerity and bullshit. If he was fleshed out more, it definitely would've worked.

But Jade doesn't help with this dynamic at all. Like John, Jade is also much more grounded and sincere, but her personality is also coupled with an overwhelming optimism where she believes everything will be okay if left up to chance. If John is true neutral, Jade is 100% positive. He barely reacts to the otherworldly things happening to him, but she actively seems to enjoy them (the meteor crashing near her house is something she wants to explore regardless of the risk, and John struggling in Sburb is "exciting").

She doesn't serve as a convincing counterbalance to Rose and Dave and comes across as more of an extraneous extension of John's lack of danger sense than anything else. Do we really need two happy-go-lucky kids with slight variations on the same niche? The very fact that the story is able to progress without her involvement thus far shows just how little she matters.

These first two acts shroud her in so much mystery, and we barely know anything about her even through these sparse pesterlogs. (As we later see, this amounts to nothing, so all this intrigue is unfounded and only leads to an unsatisfying payoff). At this point in the story, we only know that she lives with her grandfather and someone named Bec (which Dave refers to as a "devilbeast"), she has a "goofy modus" which frustrates even Dave (who, mind you, mocked John for using a simple modus earlier), she lives in a far-off part of the world, and that she has some degree of inexplicable precognition.

Jade's cutesy cagey attitude about her precognitive abilities is fucking annoying, and it is perhaps the worst thing about reading her logs. "oh gee i know all this stuff but its a secret and you gotta find out on your own tee hee! :)" This truly is typical hackshit writing when handling characters with prophetic knowledge. You can't make them too useful, or else there won't be suspense or conflict. Instead they have to act as a ineffectual plot device to softly guide the characters along. Except she doesn't do any guiding. She just unhelpfully alludes to things that the others don't know yet and leaves it at that.

In fact, Jade as a whole is less of a character and more of a plot device, by which I mean she doesn't have any sort of character to speak of. Her overbearing cheerfulness is not endearing to read, neither is her dropping hints that she knows more about what she lets on. She doesn't have any entertaining chemistry with the others either. Her interactions with John are like watching two morons acting excited with each other while the world is literally ending around them. Dave intentionally strips himself of his personality because he has a crush on her and wants to impress her by being "nice," but she doesn't seem to reciprocate his feelings at all. Also, come on, dude, Rose is right there.

Rose is the only one who shows any scrutiny about Jade's "quirky" clairvoyance. But even so, she only expresses this through occasional, bemused remarks. Jade dodges the question whenever Rose asks how she knows about things she realistically shouldn't, and Rose doesn't ever press further.

So Rose had prior knowledge about a game that will bring her cat to life. We later find out that this opportunity to revive Jaspers was her her motivation for playing Sburb. Doesn't seem worth ending the world for, but whatever. I daresay this casts Jade in a bit of a villainous role for planting the idea in Rose's head in the first place.

Actually, if Jade ended up being a twist villain, that would've been interesting and provide, you know, intrigue! Or if nothing else, it would've at least added something of substance to her character, something she desperately needs. Even ignoring that angle, you'd think the other kids might be more than a little resentful toward Jade since she knew the world was going to end, yet never told any of them about it.

But no, Hussie can't implement anything that would've been conducive to good storytelling. Especially if it leads to, gasp, conflict!

Okay, enough of Jade, let's get moving.

I want to bring attention to this passage and compare it to the earlier "symphony impossible to play" one with Rose. First of all, it's worth noting the rain/drought contrast between their respective settings. Unlike the more elegant and cerebral prose in Rose's section, this one reads more like a stream of consciousness from Dave's perspective. Loose and casual, even ending with a Snoop Dogg-esque rhyme at the end before transitioning to an actual Snoop Dogg verse.

Yeah, for those who haven't caught on, John Keats didn't actually say that. Very easy to miss, I'm sure. For those counting, this is also misattributed quote gag #5. I am positively rolling with laughter.

I find it noteworthy the room where Bro has his whole setup is stated to be the living room, not a bedroom. I'm quite certain that the Striders live in a one-bedroom apartment where Dave gets the room and Bro has all his shit in the living room and kitchen.

Dave's relationship with Bro is an inverse of John and Rose's relationships with their guardians. Whereas Dad and Mom decorate their homes with shit they think their kids will like in order to seek their approval, Bro isn't doing any of this for Dave's sake. He fills his home with his puppets and weapons because he's the one into that shit (ironically or otherwise, it doesn't matter). Dave in turn adopts Bro's mannerisms because he craves his approval.

The amount of mental hoops he needs to make in order to justify his brother's fixation on sex and puppets is concerning. Is Bro even being "ironic" or is that just an excuse he tells Dave so he doesn't have to explain this stuff any further? I think the love of Lil Cal, his childhood possession and best friend, led to a love of puppets being a core part of his personality. Everything else that extends from that is up to interpretation.

Like Dave, Bro is also a hipster doofus who does things seen as patently "uncool" in a bold display of being unique. The logic is such: a disregard for what society deems "cool" is what leads to it becoming "cool" ironically. At a glance, Bro's interests include typically "cool" things like ninja weapons, video games, and rapping. Bro plays with expectations by using these interests, which he may very well only enjoy ironically, in conjunction with puppets, which he loves genuinely but passes them off as ironic since most people deem them creepy and uncool. Applying a sexual element to the puppets makes an interest in them even creepier, so Bro does so if only to make his love for them appear even more ironic.

Convoluted and confusing? Yeah, that's Bro Strider, baby.

I don't know how necessary it was to show just how Dave gave Lil Cal a fist bump, but I do like this panel. One of the few reminders we get that these characters are, in fact, small children.

Bro's 6-character password is "puppet" right? It has to be. (Correction: a helpful anon has informed me that the password is actually "lilcal"). Also, just like his home, his desktop organization is also a mess. There's no method to this man's madness.

For all the negligence and questionable parenting methods Bro is guilty of, he still cares for Dave in some capacity. He stays up to date on his webcomic and blogs, and even hangs up one of Dave's SBaHJ drawings on the fridge. I wonder if Bro, on some level, likes the idea of raising a kid that he can raise to be just like him, but is just a woefully inept guardian that he doesn't know the first thing about parenting.

Remember, these are the kinds of websites Rose says she likes.

Just gonna say perhaps it's not ideal that Dave is being exposed to this kind of thing at such a young age. As much as he idolizes Bro and wants to emulate him, he can't get over the fact that all this sex stuff disturbs him. Yet he doesn't even view it as sexual, only as a form of irony, one he can't comprehend until he can somehow overcome his aversion toward it. It's kinda sad, really.

Unsettled, Dave's first recourse is to talk to John to try and calm down. John leaves him hanging. Such a good friend, am I right? He then goes to Rose, where they have the earlier conversation where she says she likes Bro's websites, but this time we get added context.

Dave of course is attempting to act casual about the whole thing, only slightly alluding to his deeper distress, and Rose is just like "That shit rules. I like it." This whole exchange is both tragic and darkly comedic.

Rose really does come across as a little pervert sometimes. She casually drops sexually charged phrases in conversation ("sun's lurid glare"), her username is a lewd double entendre (tentacle the... I'll let you finish that phrase), and she does show a marked interest in sexual topics (Bro's websites, the Pornsprite... honestly I'm surprised she doesn't suggest that to Dave at any point).

Both she and Dave play with innuendo and act as though they're mature and know all about sex. However, Dave's attitude toward sex is more a response to his exposure to it at a young age, whereas Rose is more casual about it and sees her flippant attitude toward it as a mark of maturity. She must love treating sex as this trivial little thing that might make others uncomfortable, but not her because she's soooo grown up.

Also, if Rose truly did give a shit about psychoanalysis, she probably would've picked up on Dave's cries for help in his messages. She really isn't as perceptive as she lets on.

Thank you, Rose, for saying what I was thinking.

Rose gets a kick out of Dave's webcomic and laughs when John makes references to it. Also, she doesn't tell John about what Dave told her earlier about the puppets when he mentions it. How nice of her. John is a fucking jackass though. Seriously, fuck him.

I'm putting a pin in this for later. Rose being able to "see only [...] what John can see, or has seen already" will be important to note later on.

Another tragicomic exchange where Rose continues to make light of Dave's distress. I wonder if she is incapable of seeing Dave as being sincere in this moment and thinks he's overreacting as a part of their usual back-and-forth.

Here it is. My favorite Homestuck page.

Dave wants to please Bro and goes along with his shtick no matter how far he pushes the envelope. This only encourages Bro to go further and further in his methods of fucking with Dave. Is his end goal to push Dave to a breaking point, or does he truly hope something with click that will make Dave truly understand him? Either way, it's fucked up.

I didn't want to get into Bro Discourse during this reread. I know there are opposing camps who either think he's a monstrous child abuser, or a silly guy who did no wrong. Personally, I think that while he doesn't read as outright malicious, it's safe to say this dude is a menace and has no business raising a kid.

It's really skeevy of Bro to incorporate his underage brother in his fetish videos, which will doubtless be uploaded to his site for others to view. This is probably the one of the more damning things he's guilty of.

Bro has reduced the kitchen as a storage space for his weapons. It's a wonder how he's able to take care of himself, let alone a child.

It's stated that Bro doesn't have anywhere else to store his stuff, which further reinforces my theory that Dave has the only bedroom in the apartment.

Yes. Thank you. One can only watch characters launch objects at high speeds for so long.

Dave's sylladex shenanigans are a little more tolerable than John's. Assigning different names to objects in order to make them fit in the modus is more fun than watching things eject once the deck is full.

This metaphor caught me off guard. It's so abrupt and out of pocket, I love it.

Shit's about to go down. Let's see how things resolve when I finish Act 2 next week.

Read the next post here.

#homestuck #homestuck reread #rose lalonde #jade harley #john egbert #dave strider #bro strider #daverose

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soulsuckrrs · 3 months ago

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open to: m/f/anyone plot: for generations y/m & Ulfred's clans have been enemies, fighting for land & power mostly until an unlikely mutual enemy forces them to form a treaty with a prospective marriage & joining of clans. could be period/viking eras (preferred) or futuristic dystopian. hmu if you'd like to plot! connection: son/daughter/child or sibling of rival clan leader, rival clan leader themselves. anyone who it'd make sense to marry/trade off in a treaty.

Ulfred only ever did what he needed in order to protect and make his people successful. It had been a long time since he had been the only one protecting his little glen in the wilds of this nation, now he had more than just creatures and beautiful, succulent wild lands to call his home. The impending war and threat of an enemy greater than any he'd ever faced was troublesome but Ulfred was nothing if he wasn't a strategist. Of course, the elders of the clan had aided in his decision making but joining forces was the only way to stay strong and alive against this new and strong adversary.

Wind whipped at his clothes and hair as he stood in wait for the procession coming down the center of his village. His mind was elsewhere, thinking of everything all at once but as his eyes settled on the people in the procession his thoughts dwindled to the present. No matter what, Ulfred had to make this thing work, make everything and everyone get along just so they could face the great force that trapped them against the mountains and ocean alike. His blue eyes swept over every person in the procession as it drew closer until that gaze of his found them, the one destined to bridge the gap between their people. At least, if all went according to plan, both clans would benefit greatly in being a force against their mutual enemy.

Ulfred stood straighter as they reached him, the elders, and the rest of his people. He took them in at this closer stance and couldn't help the tiniest amount of appreciation touch his gaze but nothing else. His tall frame stood rigid then went slack to dip into a neat and fluid bow for someone so tall and strong. "I do hope your travels were pleasant," he said in greeting, shooting a glance at those around him until they did as he, dipping low in a greeting bow before he himself straightened to his full height again. He turned slightly and gestured to the large longhouse behind him, stepping aside to make way for the others to head inside. "-- come, sit, drink, rest your bodies. We welcome you all to feast with us tonight." It almost felt insincere coming from him, especially since their own clans were fighting mere months ago but Ulfred new there was no other way, that didn't mean his people felt the same or could easily get over their animosity towards any enemy.

#indie rp #indie fantasy rp #indie vikings rp #indie period rp #indie open starter #indie open rp #indie roleplay #indie bi rp #indie supernatural rp #indie smut rp #open starter #| int. Ulfred |

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dockaspbrak · 1 month ago

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🍄❄️🪲🧩 for the writing ask game!

Hi regan, sorry it took me so long to answer these. I’ve been sick and honestly typing on my laptop is a little awkward because I work on a windows laptop now. Not that my job has me writing much just like – “the work performed shows that the balance appears reasonable” LOL “Variance explained by ledger items showing rate increase” etc etc

🍄 share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Hmmm. Sorry I feel like I can never remember headcanons on demand but I have a bunch floating around my head on the reg. I usually write for Reddie/My personal pet project Dwight/Pam office fics haha. My favorite ships right now are ocs mainly

❄️ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

I really like timeloop fics. I love the tragedy of klling yourself over and over and how resigned people get. I think I’m attracted to that kind of story telling for the same reason I’m really into writing stories about characters getting swept off their feet and thrown into a horrible situation – my life isn’t risky enough. I gotta like….pick up a new hobby. Get a big injury. Work out more. I’m sick rn so I can’t even do that. I also like pining – long term tragic angsty pining that’s like making a character feel downright sick. Hahaha – any fics like that. I’d love the person who wrote my favorite fic ever to write for my rarepair rn but I am too embarrassed to even mention either of those things.

🪲 add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

Oh god. I really only have one fic in progress and two personal stories that I would be sooo embarrassed to even so much as have in the background of a photograph I post on here LOL. Here’s a snippet from my office fic for this prompt:

Dwight looks at with her calculated indifference, keeping his head turned toward Pam when he answers, “Privately, I assume?” “Obviously,” Angela barely gives him a minute before she’s walking away at speed in the direction of a hallway. Her polite tone was barely masking something in the realm of being incredibly pissed off.

To explain myself here...I personally think Pam from the Office should be autistic and in love with Dwight who also is in love with her. He’s like a cool lesbian to me. I think they’d have fun drawing together. Anyway, I’m like the most prolific writer for their ship on ao3 8^) Bet u wouldn’t expect that from a gay horror blog obviously but I bet they’d do haunted houses together. Initially I wrote for another story but it was so depressing out of context 😵‍💫

🧩 what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Honestly right now, and I’m kinda picky, it’s anything that makes the world feel insincere. Like, if there’s too much…artiface? I clicked out of one just a bit ago that I LOVED the internal monologue writing of one character but then it switched perspectives randomly and felt like re-explaining everything (another pet peeve, makes me feel like time invested already didn’t matter), and then they had a whole group of characters get together and go around and joke in a way that was so unnatural it felt like a daytime sitcom. SIGHHhhhh not my style but I’m sure many people out there loved it dearly.

#em yaps #long post #long ass fucking post jfc #took me like an hour to finish this #i was hemming and hawing a lot though #i was writing a gay romance about an auditor falling for a really sleezy guy from when i was in college #and now that im like. an auditor myself.........idk if im more compelled to finish that or embarrassed #god i should just never be embarrassed about anything im kinda cool #but alas #the shame lives inside me like a roommate #ask #gazeboarcade #thats right your name is on the tags now

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smallnico · 9 months ago

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19 por favor

this is a long one! i've put it under the cut.

19: Has your Dark Urge become particularly close to anyone romantically and/or platonically in their journey? If so, who, and what is the relationship like? If no, why not?

let me start by saying that esper is an astarion romance, but they became platonically close to all of their companions like it was their fucking job as soon as they started to be more comfortable with being vulnerable enough to love and connect with people. the only companion they never really connected with was halsin (and minthara, whose murder they were plotting from the moment she called their blood impure), but that wasn't for a lack of trying, just a very difficult-to-overcome aversion to the "we are all animals and a part of nature" paradigm he brought to the table. they still slept with him though (and broke off the romance immediately after)

so, to start, astarion. esper got close to astarion very quickly almost Because they could tell his attempts at seduction were insincere, and because he was the only person in the party who really Noticed and Understood the urge. esper is awful at self-talk and introspection, so being able to process what they were going through externally with astarion was a huge help to stabilizing them. relationship-wise, esper and astarion don't really consider themselves a Romance, but they're partners, they're learning to love themselves by loving each other, and they complement each other well. they take turns saying the most unhinged shit (astarion in the way he does, esper in the most deadpan stone-faced way possible by contrast) and making everyone else uncomfortable.

the other companions esper got closest to platonically are jaheira, lae'zel, and karlach:

esper didn't care for jaheira at first, but latched onto her after that one cutscene where she woke them up after a bhaalspawn dream and they had a real conversation. esper has a thing for people who try to kill them that they wouldn't be able to explain (but i can say that it's a dynamic that reminds them of family even if they don't remember, since they grew up in the underdark with all the chaos that entails, plus they like knowing that they have people around who can put them down if they lose control). knowing jaheira could and would help them work through the urges was huge for their dynamic. they've definitely called her mom by accident. they would not have gotten so attached to her if she weren't fundamentally a deadbeat mother. esper's got issues

lae'zel is one of the companions esper has slept with, but that's not why they're close. esper and lae'zel share that humourless pragmatism, that alienated feeling from the world around them, and enthusiasm for martial swordplay. they get each other! esper resolved to kill vlaakith the moment they realized she was using lae'zel and the only thing stopping them from joining her in the post-game crusade is competing priorities. they also find her journey from pawn to renegade h'sharlak extremely cathartic. also, yet another instance of someone trying to kill esper and that being the thing that wins them over.

karlach is one of esper's closest friends because of how hard they contrast each other. they appreciate how straightforward she is, and they take comfort in her presence in part because she's big and warm and strong, but the smell of the exhaust from her engine subconsciously reminds esper of another place where they once felt safe to escape to, gortash's workshops. they like that she finds strength in loving simple things and going apeshit, and they think based on that that they're allowed to do so as well. they're also both touchstarved as hell so one of esper's favourite places to hang out in camp is physically on top of karlach like a weighted blanket. if she asked if they wanted to hook up no strings attached they'd probably be down

esper is very protective of wyll Because they don't understand the way he thinks very much. they aren't altruistic by nature, and wyll's unyielding need to go out of his way to do good (even when doing amoral is more practical and strategic) gets on esper's nerves, in part because it makes them feel inadequate and judged, but they came to understand wyll a lot better after the dance scene. it was then that they realized he actually liked them, thought they were a good enough person, and that both of them were just sincerely not good at talking to people. there's a weird line wyll has that's triggered by the toll bridge into wyrm's rock, where if you blame the change in refugee policy on gortash, wyll says something like "well, we'll just have to drown the evildoers in their own blood", and it was so bizarre that i initially thought it was orin. but no. wyll just says that. i choose to interpret it as him trying to show support for esper's durgeisms by mirroring them. it was weird, but it made esper happy. he's even almost forgiven them for offering to kill his dad after they busted their asses to save him from the iron throne and he was still a dick about wyll's pact.

gale is a strange one for esper! the two of them are also pretty fond of each other, but not for any particular reason. they just like each other, i think. i headcanon that esper goes straight to gale anytime they have a question, just because he seems like he knows shit and they like to listen to him talk. he also helped them figure out how their own magic worked, something that meant a lot to esper's personal pride and sense of self-sufficiency. esper collects books and offloads them onto gale (and halsin) in lieu of conversation when they don't have anything to say. esper hates gods and does not understand gale's desire to become one whatsoever.

shadowheart and esper became friends through their mutual amnesia and goth half-elf isms. if you were to listen in on a conversation between the two of them you'd think they didn't like each other, but no, they just have a sibling-like bond based on mutual deadpan sarcasm and gallows humour. shadowheart is also the only one besides astarion who's allowed anywhere near esper's hair -- they bite anyone else who tries to brush it when it starts to get longer, and gods help the poor soul who tries to trim it. esper is a little disappointed that shadowheart jumped straight from shar to selûne, and thinks it's a shame that she isn't more willing to discover who she is on her own, but they don't blame her for being scared and wanting guidance. after all, they understand just as well as she does what it feels like to have no memories to guide or orient yourself with.

no real thoughts about minsc. he's jaheira's friend and he seems both nice and stupid. esper is leery of him for the same reason as they were leery of wyll to begin with, but with even more uncertainty of motive due to his general level of chaos, but as long as jaheira likes him that's good enough for esper.

#ask game #the askbox #durgeposting #esper

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artpunk-intl · 2 years ago

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“OFF BOOK WITH BRENDAN WELLS”

ArtpunkINTL interviews BRENDAN WELLS (Uranium Club, Brendan Wells Plant Music, NERV) about Art, inspiration, chess, and the joy of not having the answer.

Interview by Lucas Rose for ArtpunkINTL, 2022

[FULL INTERVIEW TEXT BELOW]

As a unique mode of Art performance and creation, what does The Uranium Club mean to you? How does it allow you to express yourself in ways that other projects don’t? Please be as abstract as you can.

BW: For my involvement with it, the goal is as much communication as possible. I want an album to encourage someone to spend time with it, the type of thing you take into the bathroom to read and look over. I want to approach things with an intent to express ideas everywhere we can: in lyrics, on the center label, the clothes we wear, the things said on stage in between songs, on the album spine, anywhere we can find. I'd like our choices to be conscientious over automatic (are we doing something a certain way because that's how it's done or do we choose it because it will serve us?), and while other times we can be spontaneous then hopefully that spontaneity can be another weapon or resource for ideas, maybe something to reverse engineer into a reference or plot point to inform what we do next.

The way I view art, everything you do as an artist says something, whether it's process, medium, message, product etc. I don't know that everyone sees that, that when you make an unthoughtful choice it can communicate that you aren't paying attention to what you're doing. Are you invested in me as an audience member? I think in ways I'd also equate unthoughtfulness with insincerity, which is maybe a big jump, but maybe at least a lack of sincerity, and when sincerity isn't present that's just as obvious (and it is obvious!) as insincerity. You can be sincere and make something terrible but at least it won't be boring, I think. There is a lot of filler in products. And I get that, it's easier that way.

In that sense I think Uranium Club chooses to be difficult, and sometimes it's a difficult or slow or frustrating process for us, to be honest. But the filler concept reminds me of a promo video for Steve Martin's master class on stand up comedy where he says a big mistake people make is to walk out on stage and say something to an audience like "Hi, how is everyone doing tonight?" It's a mistake because you have missed an opportunity to make a joke. Everything is an opportunity to make a joke. Take out the filler and you might only be left with a little bit after that but now maybe you've stumbled into the power of minimalism.

There’s something about the Uranium Club that feels medical. Songs often come across as stories from the medical or psychiatric fields, telling tales of altered personalities, hidden selves, sickness, sudden traumatic change, proximity to death, and morbid comedy. What motivates the band’s songwriting? What sort of thing could cause a member of the Club to stop and think “I should make a song out of that?”

BW: Speaking for myself as one of three writers in the band, I'm a curious person, lots of Wikipedia and using the interlibrary loan service to spontaneously request books on subjects and artists that pop up on my radar. I jump around between a lot of different interests and thoughts so if something sticks in my brain and keeps my attention then I'll start to ask myself if it could become a song. It has to be something that keeps inviting questions and thoughts beyond what sparked interest in the first place. Even better, I like when even after making a song about something I feel like I could keep writing on the subject because every new angle I view it from invites more investigation. Subjects that involve a moral grey area do that for me, partially because something that makes me laugh is to hear a strong, one-sided opinion on a subject.

One of the funniest characters is one who is confident and wrong. I think subjects around medicine, psychiatry, etc are meaty because of the complicated relationship between science/fact and the personal experience behind/around it. Science has connotations of being right about things, of perfection and rules and infallibility, but what about when things get complicated, when you invite in questions of morality and suffering and the times it turns out you've been wrong for years about something? That's confusing, and I think a lot of my expression comes out of exploring confusion.

Digging around, it’s not hard to find references to an unreleased Uranium Club short film. From my own understanding, the cover art for The Cosmo Cleaners is a relic of this film. What can you recall about that film? Was it ever finished? Was it ever real? If so, are there any future plans for it?

BW: The band members do love Film, and sometimes we try to watch the same movies to be on something of the same page. But one of my favorite ways of taking in Art is through photos of Performance Art. Do you ever hear something about a book or a movie that gets you excited but then the real thing doesn't quite capture what you wanted? That's how I feel about most B-movies; I don't watch them, I get bored. There's a performance piece I love by a Chinese artist Song Dong called Stamping the Water where he is standing in a lake with a large printing block with the symbol for water on it and he slaps it against the water. I feel like I also saw a video of the performance and the video took the magic out of the action for me. The most compelling version of the piece I think is just one photo accompanied by the title.

Titles are really important, I think. It's like a secret lyric that changes the way you hear the song. It expands the narrative, like this weekend when I saw the house of some kids I went to school with who I thought were rich but now the house is abandoned and boarded up. I asked my mom and she told me it's because the parents got divorced and their dad accidentally killed someone while driving a speedboat drunk.

But then holding back some information is compelling too, like how my mom said the dad is dead now too, but didn't say why, so I'm left with questions. I do think movies are great, though, and watching a movie can be more inspiring for me than any other way of taking in Art, even though I have trouble sometimes allowing myself to watch a movie because I worry it's not time well spent if I'm not sick or tired.

Has anybody followed the instructions on the Two Things At Once 7”?

BW: Maybe once, I think. One of the most flattering things I can experience is when somebody lets me know they were listening and they remember what I said. It might be too much to say that I make art or music because I never felt listened to when I was a kid, but if I want to believe what I've learned in the years of therapy I've had then maybe I can admit that. It's vulnerable to express yourself but on the part of the audience I think it also takes vulnerability to participate—to choose to answer someone's question instead of letting it hang as rhetorical. It's a transformative choice, kind of like a magic spell you help complete. It makes the outcome less certain, more charged, more in the moment.

There's this great concept called going "off book" in chess that fits for that. At some point in the world of chess they started keeping a record of every move ever made in tournament play. During a game of chess, every move made makes it a little less like every game played before it, but you can still play an entire game of chess and know that the same choices in the same order have been made before. It is increasingly rare as more games are played and more data is created through that, but if you make a choice that has never been recorded before, the game is now "off book." It's not safe to do that, but it can mean the difference in whether or not there ends up being a Wikipedia article about that chess match. Despite the connotations you might make for words like creativity and Art, a lot of experiences with Art and Music are "on book." If somebody asks you to do something for the sake of Art—clap, answer a question, whatever—I think you should do it because that is a step in the direction of making the experience a little bit less like every experience that came before it.

NERV was explosive, abrasive, and aggressive, a wonderful combination of Powerviolence and original flavor Hardcore Punk. What did you learn with NERV that stuck with you?

BW: I learned to err on the side of spontaneity when it comes to performance. So many times I came up with an idea beforehand, like jumping at a certain moment (or especially with anything I thought would be funny to do or say) and it would turn out so lifeless. It's like giving birth and a wet potato coming out instead of a baby. I'd expect laughter and there would be none and I would feel so stupid, or I would do something and realize I was forcing it into the wrong moment. There are comedians who will work so hard to make their thoughts seem spontaneous when they've actually been delivering the same lines for years, and that can make for a good joke and speak to the mastery of their performance, but that joke can be matched or exceeded if it turns out you have to fart at the exact moment it would be funny to fart. For me to feel right about it I need to be in the moment and respond to it. If you respond, you create communication; if you force it, you might poop your pants.

Bands like NERV almost always end up with one or two good stories from the road. Any come to mind?

BW: The one that I usually tell is about NERV playing a show on tour in Pittsburgh in 2011. It was a grind show we got added to along with Wild Child, a band from Minneapolis we were friends with that included Harry from Uranium Club. Wild Child was incredibly late to the show because that morning they got stranded on the road with a flat tire and then after it got replaced they were in standstill traffic for hours because of a giant traffic accident. They finally showed up after all the other bands had played and were super stressed out and tired and had to play immediately to a pretty small and apathetic audience. They asked if we were down to just relax and watch a movie because they had bought Bruno on DVD at a gas station a few days before and hadn't gotten a chance to watch it. The guy who booked the show invited us to stay at his place and it sounded good—a spare room with beds because bands stayed there all the time, he said he'd make us spaghetti and salad, and the only thing to really deal with was his fiancé was moving in so there would be her cat and his two dogs who were loud but harmless.

We get back to the guy's place and it's gnarly—his dogs are these two giant rottweilers who are barking and lunging and making us uncomfortable. He shows us where we can sleep and it's this room with horror movie posters and flyers for grind shows and a pile of very stained mattresses. It's gross but there's a big TV and an Xbox so we can start up Bruno and he goes to the kitchen to cook stuff and we make the best of it. There's eight of us so I'm sitting on the floor next to the couch and Bruno was really funny. The dogs come thundering into the room whipping around a toy or stuffed animal and run over me and get slobber all over my arm and drop the toy next to Antoine from Wild Child and they chase each other around and run out again. We decompress from that but Antoine jumps up and yells "Holy shit!" and "It's a fucking cat, dude!" I turn around and realize it wasn't a stuffed animal the dogs were playing with, they'd killed the guy's fiancé's cat. I check my arm and see it isn't dog slobber, my arms covered in blood.

We all start standing up and freaking out and the guy walks into the room from the kitchen, sees the dead cat, and loses it. "Holy shit, that's my fiancé's fucking cat. She's gonna fucking leave me, man. They're gonna put my dogs to sleep. FUCK. I'm so FUCKED." Then for some reason he turns on us and starts yelling at us. "Why didn't you guys do anything? That's my fiancé's fucking cat!"

The guy stops and puts his face in his hands and starts crying. We're all just standing there looking at each other and not knowing what is going on and half watching Bruno, which is still playing, while the guy cries. After a while he tries to straighten up and bring things back to a level of normalcy.

"Well," he says, "the spaghetti's done."

With Brendan Wells Plant Music, Ernest Hood’s Neighborhoods and Mort Garson’s Plantasia seem like the obvious points of inspiration (based off nothing more than assumption), but it’s got a lot more going on too. What points of influence do you take for your quieter explorations of sound (other than plants)?

BW: The start of the project came out of a very anxious time in my life—I had tried moving to San Francisco to help run the magazine Maximum Rocknroll and it fucked my life up and was even making it hard to listen to punk for awhile. I was trying to search out classical music I could connect with but was gravitating more towards things that felt simplistic or minimal and natural. I was wanting to make music like Steve Reich, Terry Reilly, Penguin Cafe Orchestra, but like most things it's been filtered through my limitations. I don't know how to "play piano" necessarily but I can run a keyboard through guitar pedals and hold down some of the keys and try different things until I discover something I find compelling. Or I might not have the patience to systematically compose something like Steve Reich that explores overlapping themes and frequencies but I will record two separate tracks that ignore structure and meter and play them both at the same time to see what comes out of it. I also find something incredibly transcendent can come out of music without percussion or drums, or something that doesn't use those devices but still creates rhythm and forward motion. It's more tied with a spiritual pursuit than other things I might make.

In your opinion, how’s the Twin Cities scene doing these days? Anybody that’s been catching your eye that you feel hasn’t gotten their praise? Does the scene feel alive?

BW: I would say that it's healthy, it's fine, it's existing. I would not say that my experience today is a heyday, but as long as things are happening then that means things in the future can be nurtured and artists have a place to grow instead of having to start from nothing. I think though that there are things going on that I'm not in touch with that are happening, just not exactly in the scene I've been attached to.

Things have changed a lot since I first visited Minneapolis in 2008. Punks aren't as smelly. Fewer dreadlocks. Those things weren't my niche necessarily but it had an exciting identity. But in Minneapolis I think there is always an audience. When a new warehouse venue opens up people will be there and excited. The people here are very supportive and want to see music. The music I'm most excited about in town is pretty new and hasn't been recorded yet so there are things to look forward to but not a lot I can easily share right now except for a few live videos.

[Brendan provides the following links:]

Pig in the City : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wE3ji81yq4Y

Psychic Sports : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtcKe1mMC4Q

Egg Girl Girl : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EiGXUMOnuHY

Which release(s) do you find yourself most proud of for each of your projects? Do you have a favorite song or songs from your own body of work?

BW: I think the first vinyl release for any of the projects I've been a part of is a big deal to me. Growing up and loving bands and music and never thinking that would be something I'd ever participate in myself, having something on vinyl feels like tangible validation for me of participation in a part of culture that I have looked up to so much. Making a tape with Plant Music was also a big deal. It was the first time i'd recorded and released music without playing in a band and again isn't something I thought I could do. In a lot of ways I have low self esteem so these things have been life changing.

One of the things I'm most proud of is a short-lived band from 2017 I was in called Ozone 120's. I played guitar, which I hadn't done in a band since 9th grade, and that helped change the way I talk about playing music because I would say "Well, technically I CAN play guitar, but I don't know how to 'play the guitar'" because I only knew how to play power chords and that didn't seem good enough to me. Now in my mind if you're able to make sounds you like with an instrument then I don't see that as illegitimate or something that should keep you from thinking you're not a musician or something.

What do you see when you look at the current world of Art? What is plentiful? What is lacking?

BW: Working in the limitations of your means is what is going to lead to authentic / unique / individual expression and I think that is increasingly rare. That's why musicians from different cities and different experiences with different resources will sound different and to me that's what makes Art exciting: that there's more of it out there to experience. There's something sterile about doing things the "right" way. That can end up meaning a focus on recreation rather than something I'd call a creation and I don't often find much credibility in that. I know there's an easy argument to that, that there's nothing unique or creative about bands who play guitars or even all art period but to say something like "Nothing is original so why should it matter?" is going to lead to a lot of product that I find lifeless. I don't think there's any excuse for boring Art.

I also think pun names have to go (Joanna Gruesome, Ringo Deathstarr, Olivia Neutron-John). That's an excuse for an idea. It's like having the opposite of an identity unless you're a Grind band or something because they're the only ones who do it right and with a worthwhile sense of humor.

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