#but it’s the writing that goes along with it I care about

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 5

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual themes and language, drinking, not my best work lol Wordcount: 6.6K A/C: so have we come up with a shipname for zari and paige yet?? anyways ty all for the support and sooo much love on the last part - especially those who remained patient for a new part! i've got a LOT of stuff going on rn so please be understanding if parts take a little longer to come out! i wanna write badly but i gotta prioritise real life unless y'all wanna start paying me lol anyways, this should be a rewarding chapter to some of y'all!! anyways go read!!

-

Before London

“The skirt,” my childhood friend Olivia’s voice filters through the speaker, my phone set up on my bed as I try on different outfits for the evening on facetime. 

I stare into my reflection, the black miniskirt not leaving much to imagination, my legs fully on display. I sigh, unsure whether it would be too much for the night.

“I don’t know Liv, the dress is a little less revealing though,” I complain, turning around and seeing the way the tight skirt hugs my curves.

“Exactly why you should wear the skirt instead.”

I laugh, shaking my head at her face on my phone screen. “I’m not going there to shag someone. It’s going to be mostly the team anyway.”

“Izzie, you are single now. Act like it. Have you even hooked up with anyone since…?”

I scoff. “Do you think I have time for anything like that?”

“Maybe if you schedule it in…” Olivia jokes, making my mouth fall open feeling offended.

“Hey! I’m perfectly happy being single right now. Love is the last thing I should be thinking about.”

“Well, I still think you should wear the skirt,” the girl answers, making me groan.

“Fine, okay gotta go. I’ll text you!” I wave bye, before hanging up, realising my ride must have arrived. One more glance in the mirror and I decide it will do - the black mini skirt and a matching black cowl neck top, the back draped low to reveal the smooth skin of my back along my spine. The outfit was simple yet sexy, the stacked chunky golden jewelry dressing the look up. I’ve pinned my hair up in a bun, curls falling out as if by accident - in reality the hairdo had taken over 45 minutes to accomplish.

“Good enough,” I murmur to myself, putting on my boots and quickly hurrying out the door. Just like we had agreed, Trey is waiting in an Uber, waving me over. He had sent me a message earlier asking if we could ride together. Of course I had said yes out of politeness. Though if I’m honest, I always felt a little uneasy around him.

“Hey!” I smile politely climbing into the backseat with a potted orchid in my hands.

Trey meets my smile with an even wider one, eyeing me up and down as I buckle my seatbelt.

“Housewarming present?” He asks, pointing to the potted flower. I shrug and nod.

“I didn’t really know what to get them,” I admit, crossing my legs and eyeing the purple and white flower.

“Lala’s gonna love that,” Trey nods, his eyes still locked on me and my outfit. “You look…” he goes silent, and from my peripheral vision I see the man shaking his head. “Really good.”

“Oh, thanks,” I mumble, brushing it off lightheartedly as I grab my phone which is frantically buzzing.

Paige  When are u coming? I’m already here and idk anyone Oh nvm Lou and Chris are here So… when u coming???

I feel my stomach doing flips as I read the texts, my mind still swirling with how she’d made me breakfast just earlier this morning. How my couch still smells just like her even hours later. I wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something comforting about her presence. The way she worked to make me laugh, to get me to relax. Like she wanted to take care of me.

Just left so I should be there soon x

Izzie Iz Help We’re drinking wine

Time to be a big girl and learn Paige

But I don’t wanna 🙁 Fine Bc you said so

Good girl

Freaky 😏

Paige

Sorry I pregamed

Of course you did I’ll be there soon x

Giggling at my phone, I place it on my lap, not wanting to be rude towards the man sitting next to me. Trey’s eyes are locked on me, and I can feel myself growing uneasy, especially when I realise I have nothing to talk to him about other than work.

”You excited for tonight?” He asks.

”Yeah, it’s going to be nice to see everyone out of work,” I answer, keeping my composure despite feeling awkward, begging he doesn’t pick up on it. I had become quite good at that (or Trey was more ignorant than I realised).

”Oh yeah, you haven’t really had the chance to do that yet huh?” He asks, his deep voice gravelly.

“Not really no.”

“Well, if you ever get lonely, you can always call me up Zari,” Trey says, reaching over and suddenly placing his hand on mine resting on my lap. I keep still as long as I can before pulling it away, pretending I just needed that specific hand to hold the pot in my lap now.

“Uh, yeah that’s really sweet of you. Thank you,” I chuckle awkwardly. “Paige lives right upstairs actually so I’ve been spending some time with her.”

Trey is taken aback, his brows rising. “Paige?”

“Yeah we’re friends,” I smile. Trey’s dark brown eyes keep watching me, clearly thinking about something till he shrugs and looks away. 

The drive is quiet, full of awkward comments by the man clearly eager to make conversation. Normally I was better than this at the small talk that the Americans seemed to love so much - but not today. I could feel my stomach twisting with nerves and butterflies in anticipation for the evening. I wasn’t entirely sure why. But all I knew I was eager to see Paige - she had a way of grounding me.

We finally get to the building, awkwardly accompanying each other in the elevator much like my first day working for the Wings. I’m the one to ring the doorbell, Trey standing close behind me.

“Hey pretty girl!” Lala opens the door with a warm smile. “Oh hey Trey, come in come in!”

She steps aside, letting both of us in. The hallway is long and the ceilings are high, the space modern but filled with gorgeous furniture bringing warmth into the space. 

“Wow, beautiful,” I gasp looking around.

“Issa work in process,” Lala laughs. I catch a glimpse into the open concept kitchen/living room, filled with people who had arrived on time unlike me and Trey (our Uber had taken a “shortcut”, which ended up taking 15 minutes longer than the normal drive.) I could tell alcohol was already flowing from the loud laughs echoing around the apartment.

“Oh, here you go!” I smile, handing Lala the orchid. “I wasn’t sure what you two wanted so I hope that’s okay.”

Lala gasps, admiring the plant. “No, this is gorg! And so are you, look at that skirt girl.”

I blush a little as she spins me around, admiring my outfit. 

“Is it too short?” I ask but Lala looks at me with raised brows. It’s then I notice her skirt is just as short, if not shorter. “Nevermind!”

The woman laughs, wrapping an arm around my waist and bringing me further into the apartment. My eyes immediately land on Paige next to Arike, both taking up half of the couch as if partaking in the Olympics of manspreading. Their laughs rise above the chatter of the crowd, making them impossible to miss. Even if subconsciously I had been looking for the blonde the second I stepped in.

“Yeah… they’re already drunk, thought you should know,” Lala nods towards the two.

“I heard, Paige was texting me already.”

The woman turns to me grinning a little. “Of course she was.” I’m not exactly sure what it means but don’t get the opportunity to ask before I hear a loud screech interrupting the both of us.

“Izzie!!” Paige gasps, her voice soaring above the noise. She climbs off the couch, rushing to me through the crowd. To my surprise the blonde wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. I can’t help the smile that spreads to my face. It comes naturally, when my arms wrap around her neck, pulling her in. Like since our first hug this morning, physical closeness felt easy. She smells like deodorant, sandalwood and a hint of alcohol. Breaking the hug, I eye her fit up and down - the olive cuban collar shirt and shorts in a matching pattern, two silver chains dangling on her neck, hair in a slicked back bun. 

All while I’ve been admiring Paige’s outfit, her gaze has been roaming across my body, taking me in. I notice a hint of red burning on her cheeks when her blue eyes land on my skirt. Suddenly I have the strongest need for a drink. Our stares meet, and for a fleeting moment I think she’s about to say something. But before she can, Arike is pulling me into a friendly hug.

“So glad you came, Zari! Whatchu wanna drink?” 

I feel flustered, barely hearing her. Clearing my throat, I finally answer, feeling the blonde’s eyes boring into me.

“White wine please?”

Lala laughs, shaking her head and grabbing my shoulders. “You’re gonna need something stronger to keep up with us baby.”

I laugh. “Okay, tequila soda then?”

“Attagirl, lime?”

“Yes please,” I nod, watching Lala and Arike head towards the kitchen island covered in bottles of booze and glasses, leaving me alone with Paige. 

For the first time in weeks, there’s a sense of awkwardness between us, neither of us knowing what to say. I wanted to tell her she looks good, that the olive against her skin that had grown more tan in Dallas made her glow in a way I had never seen before. But something in my throat doesn’t allow the words to come out. Thankfully the booze in Paige’s system makes her miss the weird tension completely.

“You look,” she starts, stepping closer to me, arm brushing against mine. She shakes her head, looking me up and down which is enough to make my ears burn. “Never seen you look like this before.”

I tilt my head, meeting her blue eyes challengingly. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

To my enjoyment, this makes her flustered, her cheeks bright pink now.

“You know it is ma,” she grins.

“You and that bloody nickname,” I shake my head, rolling my eyes at the blonde, when Lala and Arike return to us with my drink.

“You guys wanna play beer pong?” Arike asks as I grab the glass from Lala.

“What is this, a frat house?” Paige laughs, making Lala groan.

“Trust, it wasn’t my choice.”

-

After a long debate between me, Izzie, Arike and Lala on who should be teaming up, we decided that the only fair combination was me with Lala, while Arike and Izzie played against us - the girls claiming it wouldn’t be right for the two hoopers to play beer pong against non-athletes. Honestly, I barely had listened to the conversation at all. Because the way Izzie looks tonight has me grasping the drink in my hand so tight my knuckles were beginning to turn white. My mind is travelling to the filthiest places at the thought of what is underneath the hemline of her skirt, her glowy legs making me weak in the knees. Even worse was the low, scooped back of her shirt, her spine’s movement visible as she walked around the room. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, I couldn’t even stop the trembling of my hands. I needed to get more drinks in me quickly.

It seemed like the dark haired girl had the same idea, downing her first tequila soda in a matter of minutes as we set up the game. The tension often visible on her face only to me was slowly beginning to melt away.

“We’re about to win aight?” I tell Lala next to me, which makes Izzie let out a loud scoff.

“You really think I’ll let you win Bueckers?” The dark haired girl asks, challenging me.

“Yo, who’s the athlete here,” I respond, an arrogant grin on my face but she won’t back down, catlike eyes staring me down at the opposite end of the table.

“You’re enormously underestimating my desire to win.”

“Oh yeah?”

Izzie nods. “Yes Paige.”

And she’s right. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol already flowing in my system, or the way Izara looks, her green eyes locked on me everytime I bounce the ball off the table but my aim is off. And somehow she keeps aiming perfectly, a sly grin and her sharp eyes glimmering as she makes me drink one cup of beer after another, after another until Lala is the one to call it off, admitting defeat gracefully.

Arike and Izara hug, celebrating their win, but I can’t even be mad - the way Izzie’s mouth is stretched into a wide smile, the way she was letting go off her disciplined, hard exterior as a result of the alcohol was such a joy to watch I could’ve soaked in it forever.

“I told you! I told you!” Iz laughs, coming over to me and getting up in my face. But all I’m doing is smirking, my hand snaking around her waist and pulling her close without thinking about it much. But she doesn’t pull away either, even when our fronts nearly press together, heat radiating between us. The party has turned loud, drunk people bumping into each other, yelling over the music, but all I see is the dark haired girl in front of me, and the blush on her cheeks.

“You were cheating Iz,” I tell her, heavy eyes gazing down at the girl.

“How?” She asks, stunned.

I shrug. “I dunno.” I did know. It was that damn outfit. It took every ounce of self-discipline I had not to drag her to the bathroom and pull that skirt up. How was I expected to aim while my thoughts were running out of control.

“Here you areeeee!” Satou’s voice interrupts the moment, making me stumble backwards and letting go of the girl in my arms realising how close I’d been to losing control and leaning down to kiss her.

Satou hugs both me and Iz, looking around for the couple of the hour who have suddenly disappeared. “Where the lovebirds at?” She asks, holding a wrapped present in her hands. I chuckle shrugging but Zari lets out a giggle.

“Last I saw them they were getting pretty cosy,” she laughs, leaning into my side whether on purpose or on accident I’m not sure. But it leaves my skin tingling.

“No one’s surprised,” Satou laughs, waving her friend over. “Savannah, this is Paige and… Izara, right?” 

“She prefers Zari,” I correct before Iz can even say a word. From my peripheral vision I see her head snap to me, eyes growing softer as they land on me. I could tell she was happy with me, which made me want to get on my knees and beg for her to let me serve her forever. Okay, no, let me get a grip.

“Whassup,” I nod at Savannah, who smiles at both me and Izzie. Suddenly, the girl beside me stumbles as someone bumps into her, crashing straight into me.

“Woah,” I grab a hold of her, my hand naturally landing on the small of her back. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she giggles, watching me and her nose scrunching as her face twists into a laugh. The sparkling eyeshadow covering her eyelids makes her shine even more, curled strands falling onto her face out of the updo her long, dark hair is in. She looks so beautiful I feel breathless, even more so up close.

“You want a drink ma? I could use one,” I ask, staring into the green of her eyes, feeling the alcohol too much to realise that our faces are only inches away at this point.

She rolls her eyes. “Paige, I hate that nickname.”

“Do you want a drink or not woman?” I ask annoyed, teasing her. But her face hardens, and her eyes sharpen.

“Excuse me?”

Her tone is hard and serious, making my lower abdomen flip. As inappropriate as it feels, I’m exceptionally turned on.

I swallow, biting my lower lip. “Uh…”

“Woman?” She interrupts me, furrowing her brows. I can feel heat pooling between my legs, making my mind spin.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, my voice coming out shaky from how flustered my thoughts had turned me.

“What’s that?” She asks, brows rising as she watches my mouth expectantly.

“I’m sorry Izzie,” I say louder, my chest heaving now. To my surprise, I notice her breathing is growing heavy too.

“Mhm, that’s better,” she nods, eyes still on my mouth as I bite down on my lower lip. And for just a second, as my eyes flicker from her eyes to her glossed lips, I consider leaning in and pressing a kiss on them, mind jumping to how she might taste. Like heaven I bet.

“So a drink then?” Iz asks, interrupting my spinning thoughts. 

“Oh right, yeah,” I compose myself, “we’ll be right back.”

We leave Satou and Savannah alone, my hand on the small of Izara’s back guiding her through the people to the kitchen island.

“What do we want to drink?” The girl asks, looking at the row of bottles lining the counter. I lean in even closer to her side, letting my hand drag from her back to around her waist. The girl’s breath hitches audibly, yet she doesn’t pull back.

“Shots! Now!” Arike suddenly interrupts us, Lala following close behind her.

“Bro where you been?” I ask, watching as she begins to pour shots of vodka for all four of us. Her and Lala exchange a look that tells me I don’t want to know the answer to my question.

“Nevermind,” I mumble, making Izzie giggle, the alcohol finally loosening her up.

“No, I really shouldn’t,” the dark haired girl shakes her head, pushing the shot away.

“Oh c’mooonnn!!” I groan, pushing it back.

“Yeah Zari, c’mon,” Rike complains.

I pick up my own shot glass, and Izara’s as well, bringing it to her lips. She’s considering, meeting my gaze, until her pretty lips open and I tip the glass, pouring the shot into her mouth as I throw my head back, swallowing mine. 

“Holy shit,” I cough, making everyone around me laugh, looking at the dark haired girl whose face doesn’t even twitch from the alcohol. Damn.

“And another oneeee,” Arike laughs, now pouring tequila into the glasses, clearly trying to get us two drunk. I glare at her, picking up on what she was up to. But Rike merely winks at me, handing us salt and lemon slices.

“Oh boy,” Izara chuckles, eyeing the alcohol. I follow closely as her tongue darts out to lick her wrist, my mind spinning with dirty thoughts involving that tongue between my le-

“Lemon!” The girl yelps, squeezing her eyes shut having taken the shot. I quickly grab the slice from the counter, holding Izzie’s face still by her chin as I place the wedge between her lips. Her teeth bite into it, sucking on the bitter fruit to get rid of the taste in her mouth.

Her dark lashes flutter open, and she pulls away with a grin. “Your turn.”

I scratch the back of my neck, feeling my tongue already growing numb from the alcohol, my speech certainly beginning to slur soon.

“Yo Zari, you should let Paige lick the salt from your wrist,” Arike yells from the opposite side of the counter, earning a slap on the shoulder from Lala.

“Huh?” Izara laughs, turning to the pair.

“Ignore her, God knows I do,” Lala rolls her eyes.

Flustered, I fumble with the salt shaker, licking it off my hand and downing the shot of tequila, feeling the burn in my throat making me want to cough. To my surprise, Iz brings the slice of lemon to my lips, the bitter taste putting an end to the burn.

I can feel the alcohol hitting, making my cheeks burn - or maybe it’s the way the dark haired girl is looking at me, her eyes even more catlike than normal, sparkling in the dimmed lighting. Either way I can feel my brain and mouth beginning to slow down, yet my words and actions seem simultaneously sped up, like I couldn’t think them through before doing.

“I’mma admit, I’m drunk as fuck,” I laugh, making Izara throw her head back and let out a bright chuckle, grabbing onto my shoulder as she does. Fuck she looks hotter than usual, the hard, poised exterior breaking, letting me catch little glimpses into her internal life, reminiscent of the softness on her face when she fell asleep on me.

“Let’s run away before Arike makes us take more shots,” she whispers and simultaneously somehow screams, grabbing my arm and dragging me down behind the island, as if Arike and Lala weren’t standing right on the other side, watching the two of us. Still I let her, crouching behind it and letting her drag me wherever she wants to. 

-

I love Dallas! Or maybe I should reconsider when I’m sober, but now that the shots and drinks had been flowing, I had decided I loved Dallas for certain. Paige and I have been hiding behind a corner, by the entrance to Arike’s and Lala’s bedroom, for the past hour, giggling and talking. I’ve realised Paige might be one of my favourite people I’ve ever met, the strain in my abs a reminder of how easily she made me laugh. How effortless it was to spend time with her, like I didn’t have to put up any exterior or front. I felt comfortable being myself with her. So naturally, in my drunken state, the words slip from my lips easily.

“You’re like, my favourite person right now,” I giggle, leaning my back against the cool wall and watching upwards at her. Paige’s eyes are heavy and red as a result of the alcohol, hair somehow still neatly slicked back, however a button on her chest left unbuttoned, displaying that she definitely wasn’t wearing a bra under the shirt.

“Yeah?” Paige asks, a proud smirk on her face. She’s standing in front of me, arms crossed.

“Don’t let it get into your head darling,” I scoff, pushing her off by her abdomen, feeling the muscles there tighten when my fingertips graze her through the shirt. For whatever reason I’d been wanting her to touch me all night, enjoying the times she wrapped her arm around my waist, or guided me through a crowd. It felt good to be touched, so I didn’t worry about what it meant further. I just wanted her hands on me. Like you’d want to hug a friend after remembering how much you love them.

“Why do you get to have all these nicknames but I don’t get to call you ma?” She asks, stumbling back but returning to her prior position, if not a little closer. I place my hands on her waist, having to tilt my head to look at her - that’s how close she is.

“Why do you want to call me ma?”

“Because,” she groans, looking for something to say. “Ion know it suits you.”

“Why?” I laugh.

“Because you’re sexy.”

I’m drunk. And I know it’s because I’m drunk. It has to be. But I can feel myself begin to throb between my legs when Paige says those words, when her teeth bite onto her bottom lip, when she looks me up and down. Suddenly I’m painfully aware of the swirling in my lower abdomen, the heat spreading straight to my core.

The blonde rubs the bridge of her nose. “Ahh shit Iz, I didn’t mean it like that. My bad. You just look really damn good. In like a friend wa-”

“You think I look sexy?”

It’s like my mouth and brain aren’t working together, the words just forming and leaving my lips without a single thought or action to stop them. For some reason it comes out almost whiny. Like I want her opinion, her reassurance.

Paige looks surprised, clenching her jaw before kissing her teeth and licking her lips, hands twitching as if for something to touch.

“I meannn… you really gotta ask that?” She says hoarsely, stepping closer and placing her hands on my hips. It feels good, but I want more, pushing my body off the wall and pressing my front against her. The sparks are immediate, and I nearly groan at the contact. 

“You didn’t answer,” I demand, staring into the blues of her eyes. Only then I realise how blue they really are, like a turquoise ocean against a sandy beach, inviting, beautiful. My heart begins to pound, even more so when I feel Paige’s hands move from my waist, downwards to my hips, to the small of my back, and finally to my ass. 

“Perfect,” she coos.

The breath she lets out is heavy, loud, but I barely register, my mouth parting a little. To say the chills travelling through my body are overwhelming would be an understatement, my mind suddenly spinning with realisation of something I’d been feeling for a while, yet only recognised now.

“Is this okay?” Paige asks, making me nod my head. When I do so I feel the blonde’s hands squeeze just a little, forcing a breathy whimper to spill from my lips. Overcome with the urge to be even closer to her, I wrap my arms around the girl’s broad shoulders and lean my head into the crook of her neck, my body slotting against hers just right. It feels euphoric.

 “Baby I would leave too if I was Paige, that poor girl got to deal with you on a daily basis alr-”

Suddenly Lala’s voice grows louder as she turns the corner, Arike on her tail. 

“Oh, sorry y’all,” the woman gasps seeing us embracing, Paige’s hands resting on my ass. Embarrassed, I pull away, nearly pushing the blonde off of me.

“Uh, I need a drink,” I murmur, my thoughts moving so quickly they make no sense, not even entirely sure what just happened in a drunken hue.

“Yoooo,” I hear Arike snickering, and Lala shutting her up.

Paige follows close behind me all the way back to the kitchen island, people around the apartment now notably drunker, louder, stumbling into each other. “You aight?” 

“Yeah, yes. I am,” I murmur, pouring whatever booze there was in reach into a glass and downing it, attempting to calm the running thoughts trying to make sense of all of this.

“You sure ma?”

Fuck. The nickname. Suddenly it’s making my core burn, and I feel arousal pooling between my legs almost uncomfortably. Maybe that nickname wasn’t so bad. Maybe it got me so hot and bothered I could barely think. Maybe I wanted her to call me that and only that for the rest of my life.

“Mm, I’m sure,” I mumble, turning to look at the tall blonde beside me, the way some of the buttons on her shirt have come undone, the way she’s eyeing me back, her veiny hands wrapping around a bottle as she pours herself another drink, the chains on her neck, dangling into her shirt. It’s then when I realise - I want to fuck Paige Bueckers.

“Here you are, Paige! Have you seen Satou?” Savannah interrupts us, but my eyes are still stuck on the blonde next to me.

“No, I got no idea where she is sorry.”

“What about your girlfriend, she seen her?”

Suddenly my eyes snap from Paige to the stranger leaning over the island, blinking stupidly.

“I’m not her girlfriend,” I say sternly, my tone harder than it needs to be. I could feel myself getting overwhelmed.

“Wh- oh shit, I’m sorry. You two just seem like a coup-”

“We’re not together,” Paige interrupts her, clearly picking up on my stress levels rising. I feel the room spinning, my breathing growing shallow, my cheeks burning up.

Lala, who had been watching me and the blonde all night, swiftly walks over and grabs me by the waist. “Come with me baby,” she coos, her voice caring and affectionate as she walks me into the couple’s bedroom, closing the door behind us, separating me from everything causing the engulfing emotions.

“Sit down Zari, I’ll get you some water.”

I do as the older woman says, feeling embarrassed, just praying to any God that I didn’t cause a scene. I could feel my head spinning still, the effect from the alcohol still flowing in my bloodstream.

Lala returns and hands me a glass. I chug it down, handing it back to the woman and staring at the floor.

“Are you alright?” Lala asks, sitting next to me and following me closely. I rub my forehead, shrugging.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m more drunk than I realised,” I murmur but the woman shakes your head.

“I think it’s more than that, Zari.”

I look at her, a knowing expression on the woman’s face.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Paige isn’t it, you like her?”

I sigh, not even sure how to answer that question. Not sure at all what the feelings swirling inside me meant. 

“I… I just think I’m drunk-”

“She likes you,” Lala interrupts me. I take her words in, blinking slowly as I do. Paige likes me?

“How do you know?” I ask in a moment of vulnerability. Something about the older woman made me feel safe.

Lala chuckles, shaking her head. “I think everybody knows baby.”

Oh.

I’m speechless for once, staring at the wall, recounting every interaction I had ever had with the blonde girl. My friend. Could she really like me? Worse of all, have I led her on?

“Look, just be careful alright. Don’t give her the wrong idea if… you know, you don’t feel the same,” Lala rubs my shoulders, like reading my thoughts. It all confused me, my feelings most of all - and deep deep down I wasn’t sure about what I felt, my mind an entangled, confusing pile of perplexity.

-

“Hey you alright?” Paige murmurs to me, pressing into my back as I’m pouring myself more water in the kitchen after my little breather. My body is covered in chills once more by her proximity - which must be a sign I like her at least a little bit. Or maybe I’m just needy for someone to touch me. I was drunk after all, and it had been a while. But then again, these chills always occurred when the blonde’s hands were on me, sometimes even when they were not. Just a simple look was enough.

“Yeah, I felt a little dizzy. Feel better now though,” I murmur, finishing another glass of water.

Paige hesitates, chewing on her cheek, clearly in her head as I turn around and notice her expression. “I didn’t do too much ri-”

“Here you are!! I love this song, come dance!” A drunk Satou interrupts the moment, dragging both me and the blonde into the living room, not giving us much choice in the matter. 

“Song’s almost over,” Paige chuckles, glancing at me as I shrug but follow the two hoopers.

“Who cares, I love it!” Satou laughs. We’re surrounded by a few others, dancing to the Drake song echoing around the apartment. As the beat fades out, I hear the soft melody of What You Heard by Sonder take over.

“Nooo, boo, I’mma go ask for more Drake,” Satou murmurs, walking off, leaving me and Paige alone.

Our gazes meet and we chuckle at the same time at the girl who just left, clearly even drunker than me and Paige.

“Fuck your mind up, waste time, I'm prone to that, do it all the time, Keep your guard up or wait in line”

“This song is actually fire,” Paige grins and I nod.

“It is.”

I take a dip in her blue eyes, finding comfort in them as the song plays, not at all shocked when Paige steps closer and grabs a hold of my waist, swaying with me. The alcohol is still pumping through my veins, making it easy to wrap my arms around her neck without thinking what it might mean. It felt good to be close to her, so what?

“What's the word? Tell me what you've heard, Don't tell me what to do, just tell me when it hurts.”

Paige sings along to the lyrics, the tiniest bit off-key yet something about it makes me grow flustered quickly, mind flashing with images of her doing exactly what the lyrics describe.

“What's the word? Tell me what you've heard, Don't tell me what to do, just tell me when it hurts, When I get you to myself, it's murder,” I sing back to Paige, our eyes meeting. Her eyelids are heavy from the drinks, and there’s a hint of a smirk on her face. Her silver chains sparkle in the dim lighting, but all I’m looking at is the way she’s staring me down.

Something about the alcohol makes me bold, pressing my body closer to hers, my fingernails scratching into the back of her neck gently, watching as her eyes nearly flutter shut at the contact.

“You be wildin', I be wildin', too, But not like you, shit, maybe a little like you, Maybe we ain't so different, maybe I be trippin', too,” we sing to each other, the blonde’s thumbs rubbing circles on my hips as we dance together. I feel the burn from earlier spread to my core once more, making it hard to think clearly. 

Our faces are inching closer, to the point where I can feel her hot breath on my skin. My heart begins to pound and it becomes difficult to keep my eyes open. Paige licks her lips, leaning downwards. For a moment I think she’s about to kiss me, the distance between us growing smaller and smaller - until she ghosts my lips, turning her face, mouth hovering right over my ear, warm breath tickling against my skin.

“If he was a winner, Girl, you wouldn't have to worry 'bout a damn thing, If I was up in it, shit, I bet a pound that I'd put it down, Make you forget that you was ever with him,” she murmurs into my ear with the lyrics of the song, left hand staying on my hip, right hand coming up to the back of my head to hold it still as we keep swaying to the melody.

I feel flustered, my cheeks growing hotter and my core aching for something. No, not for something - for Paige.

“And I hate talking 'bout my stroke game, But girl, I'm giving you the whole thing,” she murmurs with a deep, hoarse voice, my body tingling and on fire at the same time. 

Turning my face, my nose brushes into the blonde’s, but I’m too scared to open my eyes, too scared that if I do I’ll start thinking again, realising how senseless this entire situation is.

Paige’s nose nuzzles mine, and I can hear the shallowness of her breathing, her hand at the back of my head maneuvering me in a way so our lips are hovering over each other. I feel like I might pass out, my heart trying to race out of my chest at this point.

“Paige, Zari, I finally found herrrr!” Satou shouts over the crowd, making both of us pull away. My eyes shoot open and I see the girl holding her friend Savannah.

“Oh! Good!” I smile awkwardly, Paige’s hands still on me. 

“Jesus…” The blonde murmurs to herself, looking around clearly frustrated by the unwelcome interruption. “You wanna go to the balcony for, uh, some fresh air?”

“Yeah,” I nod, without thinking. I let the tall girl walk me onto the balcony, closing the door behind us.

Fresh air it is not, the weather a hot and humid warning for the approaching scorching Dallas summer. But it still feels right to be alone with Paige, under the dark Texas sky. I glance upwards, looking at the stars to avoid meeting the blonde’s stare.

“So damn hot,” Paige groans, unbuttoning her shirt even more to get more airflow, though I couldn’t care less. I’m only gazing at the way the chains on her neck rest against her skin.

“Yeah, it certainly is,” I mumble, leaning my back against the glass railing.

Paige looks at me with something I can’t recognise, her expression softening as she’s taking steps towards me. “Fuck, that accent,” she murmurs, her hands easily finding their way to my waist again.

“What do you mean?” I laugh.

She shrugs. “I dunno, I just love hearing you talk.”

I chuckle, bringing my hand to her chest and playing with the chain there, number 5 dangling off it. Paige grins too, continuing.

“And the things you say too.”

I scoff, displeased. “Like what?”

“I dunno! British things!”

“British things??” I ask, laughing so hard my stomach begins to hurt, my fingers still fiddling the number 5.

“Like… Taking the piss!” She laughs, leaning closer. I bend forward too, my face scrunching as pearls of giggles spill from my mouth.

“Oh my God, you’re so stupid,” I murmur in a blur of joy, my hand snaking behind her head. In the haze of the alcohol and the giggles and the newfound feelings, before I can think it through, I’m pulling her down by the chain and her head, leaning closer and kissing her.

It’s heaven. Every nerve in my body is on fire. The blonde’s lips open for me, slowly but sensually sliding against mine. My legs feel weak, and my nails dig into the skin of her neck, a whimper leaving my mouth but she swallows it, groaning in response. Her hands squeeze my waist before moving to my face, landing on my jaw to keep me as close as possible - like she might die if I pull away.

I’m pressed closer to the glass behind my back as the kiss grows hungrier. Paige’s mouth opens further, her tongue darting out to slide against my lower lip, begging for entry with a small whine slipping from the blonde’s mouth. It’s like everything pent up was finally releasing, something I didn’t even know was there, bubbling right underneath the surface. My tongue meets Paige’s, both of us melting into the kiss. I feel like putty in her hands, like she could mold me whichever way possible. This is the best kiss I’ve ever experienced, I know that for sure. Jasper always kissed in such a stiff, forceful way. Right. Jasper.

It takes me back to the moment, as if for a sliver of a second I can think clearly. What the fuck am I doing. This isn’t me. I haven’t thought this through at all. I’m leading Paige on.

Abruptly I pull back for air, the taller girl already dragging me back into another kiss needily. But I push Paige back by her chest, stopping her. We’re both breathing heavily, staring at each other. What the fuck am I doing.

“I have to go, I’m sorry,” I mumble, shoving her off me as gently as I can, saying quick goodbyes to Lala and Arike before practically running down the stairs and throwing myself into a cab, leaving Paige upstairs as if nothing happened. The only proof of the night’s events merely the way my lips still burn and tingle, and my racing heart and swirling mind trying to make sense of everything.

-

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers

[extinctlesspains]

I really loved the salesman imagine.could you write one where the reader and the salesman had a romance.But he gives a card sending her to the games.Feeling and hurt and betrayed she does her best to survive and she ends up winning along with Gi-hun.now three years later the reader goes to visit Gi-Hun with her 2 year old daughter.(she had found out she was pregnant after the games)she walks in on Gi-hun and the salesman during Russian roulette 

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑒 [𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑛]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

☆ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ x ᴀғᴀʙ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☆ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴀɴɢsᴛ

☆ sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ ᴡʜᴏ sᴇɴᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇs sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇs, ᴅɪsᴄᴏᴠᴇʀs sʜᴇ’s ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇʙᴜɪʟᴅs ʜᴇʀ ʟɪғᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ. ʏᴇᴀʀs ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ, sʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴғʀᴏɴᴛs ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴛᴇɴsᴇ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ɢɪ-ʜᴜɴ’s ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴄʜᴏᴏsɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜɪs ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs.

☆ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ, ᴋɪssɪɴɢ, ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ ʟᴏss, ᴀʀɢᴜɪɴɢ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ɢᴜɴ ᴛᴀʟᴋ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

It all started with a simple game.

You’d been on your way home, drowning in stress and overdue bills, when a man in a sharp suit approached you at the train station.

“Care for a little fun?” he asked, holding up a red and blue envelope.

At first, you wanted to refuse. But his easy charm—and your desperation—drew you in. He explained the slap-match game, and soon you were caught in the strange, exhilarating rhythm of winning and losing. By the end, you were breathless, laughing despite the sting on your cheek.

“Not bad,” he said, handing over the cash with a smile that felt too warm, too genuine for a stranger.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him after that. When you ran into him again a few days later, he acted like it was coincidence.

“Maybe it’s fate,” he teased.

Soon, he was everywhere—buying you coffee, walking you home, and making your life feel just a little less heavy. He made you laugh, listened to your frustrations, and looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

One night, after weeks of growing closer, you found yourself in his arms. You’d invited him in after a long evening, your walls lowered by exhaustion and the warmth of his presence. You were full of ecstasy after that night. The way his lips kissed your neck, the way his thrusts were so sensual.

“You’re special, you know,” he murmured as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back.

“Do you mean that?” you whispered, scared to hear the answer.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

His words were your undoing. That night, you let him see all of you—your fears, your flaws, and your dreams. For the first time in years, you felt safe.

The illusion shattered when he slid the card across the table.

“What’s this?” you asked, staring at the embossed logo. Circle, triangle, square.

“A chance to change your life,” he said, his tone eerily calm.

You frowned, a pit of unease forming in your stomach. “What kind of chance?”

“It’s a game,” he explained. “An opportunity to win enough money to solve all your problems.”

“Why are you giving me this?” Your voice wavered, the trust you’d built with him suddenly fragile.

“Because I care about you,” he said, his gaze steady.

His face softened, but he didn’t retract the card. “I believe in you, Y/n. More than you believe in yourself.”

His words felt like a betrayal wrapped in a compliment. Against your better judgment, you took the card, driven by desperation and the hope that maybe he was right.

The games were worse than you could have imagined.

Every death chipped away at your soul, and every betrayal reminded you of his. But you refused to break. Gi-hun became your lifeline, his determination and kindness pulling you through when you felt like giving up.

“We’re going to make it,” he promised one night, his voice steady. “We have to.”

You survived, but at a cost. The prize money felt like blood money, and the nightmares lingered long after the games ended.

A month later, you discovered the pregnancy.

At first, you were terrified. The thought of raising a child alone, of explaining where her father was and why he wasn’t around, felt overwhelming. But when you heard her heartbeat for the first time, everything changed.

You named her Hana, meaning “flower.” She became the anchor that kept you grounded, her laughter a reminder that there was still beauty in the world.

When she was born, you held her close, tears streaming down your face. “You’re my miracle,” you whispered.

Hana grew into a bright, curious toddler who filled your life with light. But you couldn’t shake the shadow of her father—the man who had once made you feel safe and then abandoned you to the wolves.

Two years later, you decide to visit Gi-hun. He had become like a brother to you, someone who understood the darkness you’d endured. As you climb the stairs to his apartment, Hana babbles in your arms, clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit.

But when you reach the door, the sound of voices stops you cold.

“Are you sure about this?” Gi-hun’s voice, tense and uncertain.

“I never force anyone,” a familiar voice replies.

Your heart races as you push the door open.

Gi-hun and the salesman sit at the table, a revolver between them. The salesman looks as composed as ever, while Gi-hun is pale and trembling.

“What the hell is going on here?” you demand.

The salesman looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he sees you—and the child in your arms. “Y/n.”

Gi-hun stammers, “It’s not what it looks like—”

“You’re playing Russian roulette!” you snap, your voice rising. “How is that not exactly what it looks like?”

The salesman’s gaze flicks to Hana. “You have a daughter,” he says softly, putting the pieces together.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, clutching her closer. “You don’t get to talk about her. You don’t get to act like you care.”

“I do care,” he says, standing slowly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You lied to me,” you spit. “You used me. You sent me to those games knowing I might die.”

“I gave you a choice,” he says, his voice calm but firm.

“You gave me a death sentence,” you fire back. “And now you’re here, dragging Gi-hun into your twisted games? Haven’t you done enough damage?”

The salesman’s jaw tightens. “It’s not that simple.”

“No,” you say, your voice shaking. “It’s exactly that simple. You destroy people’s lives and pretend it’s for their own good. But you don’t get to do that to us anymore.”

He looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nods, his eyes lingering on Hana one last time.

“Goodbye, Y/n,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the door closes behind him, you sink into a chair, trembling.

Gi-hun reaches out, his voice filled with regret. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s not your fault,” you say, cutting him off. “He manipulates people. That’s what he does.”

Hana wriggles in your arms, her tiny hand brushing your cheek. “Mama,” she says softly, her voice filled with love.

You press a kiss to her forehead, tears slipping down your face. “We’re okay,” you whisper, more to yourself than anyone else.

Gi-hun watches you, his eyes filled with both guilt and gratitude. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“For what?”

“For saving me.”

You meet his gaze, your resolve hardening. “We save each other.”

[dmitriene]

may i pretty please req for low honor arthur with his cutesygf like he's so ew but he's so fine,,, maybe he gives her all his love after he's been gone for agees???

dolly i loove writing your requests you always feed into my arthur delusions because i barely think about writing for him on daily basis, and then there's you ‹𝟹 hope you would love this writing!

cw: really small glimpses of smut, flowers language.

arthur morgan goes missing for months, you realize that this is a completely ordinary lifestyle for him, being in a gang, at the same time on the run from law enforcement, because of which they constantly have to change the once serene location of their camp and travel all over the wild west in endless circles, unlike your comfortable, carefree life, a small house in a clearing near the nearest city, without the need to plunge into the dirt, blood and wildness of the cruel world around.

but you miss him, oh, you do, this roughened, silly man that ripped out your heart from your very chest with soiled, calloused hands and kept it to himself, and you could hate him if he did it against your will, yet you love him so immensely, so willingly, his crooked smiles, his scarred fingers and their shaky gentleness when they trace over graceful lines of your face, the smoky taste that lingers over his chapped lips when he kisses you ever so sweetly, all molten, crusting sugar that sticks between your teeth's to remind of him after.

to remind, because he always leaves, calls you his doll, his pretty, lilac rose, love at a first sight, his girlfriend, pronounces all these words so lightly, gravelly and without hesitation, pressing you so close that you begin to melt from the searing warmth and fondness of his touch, he takes you apart carefully and in fragile pieces, when you find yourself pressed against your soft sheets by his heavy, cloaking body, breathing into his kiss swollen lips scalding and erratic, parting your pliable, dampened thighs for the swollen weight of him to settle between, your fingers tangling up his mussed, hazel brown hair.

and then, gone again, took away with the cool wind and clacking sound of hooves, arthur is not pressed against your naked, curled body with tightening hands wrapped around you, doesn't kisses your temple with feathery brushes to wake you up, there's not a single note, only rumpled sheets that hold the last sparks of his warmth, blooms of love bruises on your body, and even through not for the first time, your eyes flutter and sting wet, clumping at your quivering eyelashes, as you can only whisper brittle hopes for his return.

this fateful day, it's bright outside, sunny and warm with light breeze and barely pickable scent of flowers that surround your crouching form, fingers ruffling in the soil, handling some thin stems with utter carefulness as you place them in the dug hole and sprinkle with ground in a circle, making sure they stay tall and proudly standing, as the howling wind that dances along ruffled hems of your dress, brings with it rustling, cautious steps, closer and closer to your side, pulsing through your heart with something so nervous, but familiar.

arthur is back when it's starts to get warm, when the blinding, yellowish rays of sun lay over the tip of his hat, shielding your wide open, glimmering gaze, he got older, rougher, with tired, purple lines beneath his squinting, bluish green eyes that flutter at you with something fond and apologetic, laid out so raw and unguarded, like a gaze of a beaten dog, with his now bearded cheeks burning red, accenting the deepened wrinkles and numerous moles that are so easily confused with small, blooming freckles, and you fly to your feet, along soil and falling seedlings, throwing yourself into his spreaded arms.

cruel, cruel man, laughing at your beading tears and weak, trembling slaps you give to his expanding, muscular chest, he's loud, hoarse, almost too joyful for someone who abandoned his girlfriend, but he'd kiss it better, wrap his scarred, rough fingers around your wrists to still your hands and cradle you close, with a warm palm against the back of your head, thumbing over your hair, with a whispered, cooing apologies right to your ear, rubbing his deformed knuckles down your rippling spine, promising in answer to your pleas that he'd never leave like that ever again.

arthur's bounty bigger, more dangerous people at his tail, and he got a new mark at his shoulder that healed with uneven, webbing flesh in a nasty scar, gleaming silver along many cuts slicing through his skin, each one a new story you learn under the warm gleam of the lamp in your room, tracing the full lines of his body with unsteady fingers, memorizing him back, pressed over the curve of your naked body as the day he left, but now, he's going to linger, he swore.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[lunarsworld]

༄˖°.࿔*:･ salty kisses

warnings: none i think pairing: percy jackson x reader summary: expected feelings arise, but confessions? who knew. a/n: first fic, it’s kinda long but i been wanting to write for a while i need insight tho

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓇼

you and percy had always been very close, from sleepovers at each other's cabins, to eating lunch together, to sparring with each other. throughout all of this you always knew you had feelings for him but out of pure fear of ruining your friendship you always kept it to yourself.

today was the same as any day, hanging around in percy’s cabin doing nothing but enjoying each other's presence. while he was on the phone, you changed into your new blue swimsuit that fit you in all the right places. you walked out of his bathroom and percy was on the phone with someone. his voice takes a pause as he glances over your body. you look at him with confusion, “what perce?” he stays silent and just stares at your face with admiration. “you know i don’t have time for your games. is there something on my face or-“

“oh it’s nothing you just look really pretty, especially in blue.” he says with his signature smirk that you’ve become so accustomed to. you roll your eyes, and start to walk towards the dock, hoping he didn’t catch the blush creeping onto your cheeks. you jump into the cold water and peek your head over the wood to look at percy who is still deep into his conversation. your thoughts begin to race and your concern grows. maybe he has a girlfriend and that’s who he’s talking to, although that would be odd as you tell each other everything. but it would explain why he had been acting weirder towards you in the past week.

unbeknownst to you though, he was talking to his mother. about you. “mom, i just don’t know what to do. i’ve liked her for years, i just don’t wanna ruin the bond we have. i also don’t wanna disappoint her and make her think i just got close with her because i like her.” he says. he glances over at the dock and see’s you peeking over. he walks closer towards you, hoping you didn’t hear his confession. “well honey, i think if she really cares about your friendship she wouldn’t ruin it for unreciprocated feelings. i’ve also seen the way you two behave with each other, and i really don’t think rejection is a possibility.” his mother says in a reassuring voice. he swings his feet over the side of the dock and smiles at you. that smile though, to you, was worth the world and more.

“ok mom, love you. i’ll let you know how it goes.” he says as he’s about to hang up. you sigh in relief as your anxiety induced thoughts come to a stop. “wait, is that sally? let me say hi!” you say and he hands you the phone. you two chat for a while as percy watches the way your face lights up. he’s always loved the way you get along with his mother, the way your face glows in the sun, and how the sun reflects against your smile. how he’s always loved you. you finally hang up the phone and he lies stomach down on the dock, leaning his head over to maintain eye contact with you. “soo, what did you guys talk about?” you say, curiously. “nothing for you to know yet.” he says with a taunting voice, and in turn you splash him with water. he takes off his blue torn shirt and jumps in after you. the water fight lasts a while until you’re both worn out. your doggy paddling because you can’t reach the bottom, and in percy’s head he can reach the bottom so he has to hold you. he grabs you by the waist and you instinctively wrap your legs around his hips. with the insanely close proximity, blush begins to creep upon your face. “did you get sunburnt really fast or something.” he says. you roll your eyes and begin to look away. out of all the times for your body to sabotage you, why now? he takes his free hand and pulls your face back to his direction. the eye contact feels like a eternity with him, even though it’s only a couple of seconds.

as soon as you blink, you feel lips connecting with your own. you instinctively pull away, but upon realizing they’re percy’s lips, you pull him back in. the taste of salt strong on each others lips. you both could stay in this moment forever. however, he pulls away. “so i’m gonna take that as a good sign?” he says, nervously chuckling. “shut up idiot,” you say, pressing your lips back into his. he smiles into the kiss, and although both your fingers are pruning and the sun is setting, neither of you move. because in this moment, he’s yours and your his. and you both feel like you’re exactly where you need to be.

[l0v3r666]

Helloo can I request for Ruggie as in a relationship or a crush who secretly cares a lot? It sounds sweet! x gender neutral

Thank you and I love your writing!!! Have a great day!

Ty for the ruggie content!!!

If your boyfriend is strict on anything in your relationship, it’s that sharing is caring :) What’s yours is his and whatnot, but he’ll never deny a little spoiling from his sweetie!! Acts of service and gifting are real intimate for him, but he can only bring himself to talk about how efficient it is to be shacking up with you..

Boyfriend!Ruggie’s favourite kind of surprise was never in food before you- (a little too much rot back home) but he’s grown to love whenever you pack his lunch. Most of the time you don’t tell him you’ve switched out whatever he scrounged up, but it’s easy to smell the difference between your cooking and his. His mouth starts watering before he steps out the door, and your goodbye kiss always goes much longer than usual :^

Boyfriend!Ruggie can’t help himself but to pay you back with a night in once in a while,, He tries to hammer it in that it’s only so he doesn’t owe ya’, but before long your romcom is drowned out by his sleepy purrs and the lithe fingers threading through your hair <33

If there’s any part of you that’s Ruggie’s “favourite” it’s probably your stomach- he loves to fill it with good food when he can, and to rest his perpetually cold hands along your waist whenever you go shirtless :) He never goes past any boundaries you set, (like any good boyfriend should) and he’s always checking up on you in return for you being so soft with him,,

Boyfriend!Ruggie couldn’t ask for a better partner, and he hopes you can say the same! You light up his world whenever he finds little notes in his bag or his work pants “mysteriously” ironed out. He’s constantly finding ways to figure out your methods, and he hopes you’ll never run out of ways to show you care <3

[dandys-world-red-rock]

Two questions for you errr

How did the bands first show go? Was it good? Bad?

How would each band member react to a sudden growth in popularity?

Hey thank you for sending these in! ❤️

1. The sponsor was able to get the first show broadcast on Vee’s network, albeit begrudgingly on Vee’s part. If you haven’t already, you can find the first song Shelly wrote for the band [HERE] It was also the first song played at their show, the rest of the air time was filled with song covers.

2. They all would react very differently I think. Semi-detailed explanation after the see more

🍤 Shrimpo: Definitely lets the new attention get to his head. He’d get more rowdy at shows, breaking more equipment and such.

He still hates a lot of things, but he still appreciates his fans. (I mean to him, he is the best thing to grace this place. Why would he punish them for being right?)

He does hate the work sometimes, especially giving autographs constantly. Usually he lets out his frustrations along with his name, cursing out the person he’s writing it to.

🐚 Shelly: If she got popular, she’d take it in stride but she wouldn’t get too prideful like Shrimpo. She tends to become slightly dependent on the validation from it though. Sometimes she goes to the band room late just to peek at fan-forums.

Shelly would absolutely adore her fans, treating them with the same love and kindness she gives everyone else. She’s always super appreciative every time someone comes up to her about it.

She’s still cutesy despite being in the band, and usually adds a little doodle of whatever dinosaur is on her mind when she writes autographs out.

🔍 Rodger: The most nonchalant about it. He can get a bit flustered when fans fawn over him, but he doesn’t spend too much time thinking about it. He has other priorities after all, like his detective work, taking care of Toodles, and managing the band with the sponsor.

Rodger keeps his interaction with his fans professional, since he understands how parasocial people can be when given too much attention from their idol. He still cares about the band’s supporters, but out of the three he’s the most detached from the fanbase.

As for autographs, he made a stamp for it! Call him lazy all you want, but he sees it as convenient. Plus, with all the work, he wouldn’t want to develop carpal tunnel, especially as the drummer.

[flamsparks]

So, I finished Veilguard…

…and I need to vent…

The text ahead is mostly spoiler-free. Minor spoilers are present (and marked)… and it’s quite long. Apologies for that…

TL; DR: Veilguard is not a bad game. It’s just a bad Dragon Age. BioWare made most decisions on your behalf, so you don’t have to. You’re a hero in shining armour (mandatory), surrounded by NPCs in various shades of vanilla, immersed in a non-existent lore, having conversations that swing between generic and cringe. Nothing Dragon Age has ever been.

N.B. I tried to be as accurate as possible while writing this text. I took notes while playing on events and conversations to try and stick to the facts actually occurring during the game. But of course, the game is immense and guides to it are not as detailed or reliable as of now, so I couldn’t double-check most of it. So, if you find anything wrong with what I say, any details (or massive plot points) I missed or got wrong, please do let me know, and I’ll see to correct them!

Good things first. Because despite what the shitload I’m about to drop onto the game might suggest, there are a few changes they made that I genuinely appreciate.

First of all, the playability has greatly improved. When it comes to DA, one of the main issues I always had with every. single. game. was that the first few hours I was lost in the dynamics I needed to figure out before I got the hang of it. Maybe I’m just an idiot. But still, there are mechanics in all three previous games that need to be understood before you get down to actually playing (and enjoying) the game. Veilguard is not like that. It’s very intuitive, everything is pretty neatly marked… it’s something I sincerely appreciated.

I also don’t dislike the new combat mode. I was worried sick that a party of only 3 wouldn’t be remotely enough to cover everything that needs covering, but I’m glad this was not the case. I’m also a pretty non-strategic player when it comes to combat - the kind who’s content with swinging an axe around and decapitate whatever comes close enough to hit. It’s again a very intuitive format the one in Veilguard, and though 3 attacks may be few, they suffice imo. Same goes for steering your companions’ fight. Only downside is just how much you need to dodge. I was hoping to play an archer, but quickly realised that playing solely at range is basically impossible since enemies target you constantly. But melee combat has also become far more manageable than before, so not all that bad. But again, I’m a player who doesn’t really know what strategy is.

And another thing I really appreciated is the pacing. To have more minor main quests scattered all along the way rather than fewer, bigger main quests, interspersed with countless side quests, helps keep better track of the plot and the big events that just occurred (which are supposedly pretty urgent stuff, stop wasting your days picking elfroot!). And in a game as story-led as DA is, keeping the plot together is not a bad thing after all.

Good.

Now that we got this out of the way,

Let’s begin from something that alarmed me already ahead of release: the impossibility of importing your world state.

I’m generally not one to jump to conclusions before having thoroughly looked into the thing. But this could not not be an issue. DA games after Origins have always lived and breathed the lore they’re set in. Choices you made affect the world afterwards. And though in the major scheme of things, they all pretty much came together to the same core points, it’s always been nice to see how previous choices reflected into the new games. You could overhear people mentioning a certain event while passing by, you could ask how your companions from the previous game were doing… and cameos of characters from previous games were doubtlessly the best part of it. Some were just fleeting appearances, but some were so relevant to the game that you ended up doing entire quest-lines with characters you knew from before and cared for. What’s more devastating than having to choose between leaving Alistair or Hawke behind? (Don’t answer please, I know the list of tough choices is long, please, don’t make me suffer further).

In Veilguard, because you cannot bring up the previous state of the world, not only you don’t have any access to news from other parts of Thedas (like, c’mon, you can’t tell me that echoes of whatever is going on in the circles southwards is not reaching maybe not Tevinter, but at least Antiva or the Anderfells), but every cameo is so frustratingly underwhelming! Characters just make an appearance, you don’t really get to talk to them, and even when you do, you can’t ask them how they’d been doing since you last saw them in DA[X]. If I left Isabela to the Qunari, I wanna ask her how she escaped! If Dorian is in a relationship with Bull, I wanna be updated! If Kieran was born, I wanna know how he is! Morrigan is the only character from previous games you have decent conversations with, and you still don’t know shit! These are small details, often irrelevant to the plot, which make the lore of DA rich and alive, and help the player connect to the worlds before the current one!

But the sad truth is that Veilguard was made for new players. Not for old ones. And yes, I understand that after 10 years since the last game, it’s plausible to think that many old players will have forgotten the franchise… but how many people had been eagerly waiting to see this world further develop for a literal decade? I can’t believe they’re not worth enough.

And being unable to choose your own world state means that the rich lore is largely avoided. A big part of discovering new countries of Thedas in previous games was being immersed into the local culture, its traditions and customs, its politics, even its language, and they had an influence in the events. After Veilguard, what do I know about Rivain? Beeches. And they have food of some kind. That’s it. That’s the lore.

Oh no, wait. We know Rivain is a non-binary culture... or do we?

Please, help me out on this. Because I played this part twice, and twice I found a plot hole so massive I sincerely think I must have missed a very easy bridge crossing over it somewhere. Please, if I did, tell me. Because otherwise, this is what I saw. And it’s driving me insane.

When Taash needs to make their choice, it is spelled as “choose between the Qunari and Rivaini culture”. And beside the irony that was noted about Taash’s cultural identity to be forced into a rigidly binary choice, Taash embracing the Rivaini culture additionally translates into them embracing their non-binary identity… except… how does choosing that culture equate to choosing that identity? When is it ever stated that the Qunari culture is a binary one [it is made explicit later on, during that infamous conversation], while the Rivaini culture is not, before that moment? And that’s not even the whole problem! To do some “talks about gender”, Taash needs literally to go to Tevinter ([SPOILER] and since I had Minrathous taken over by the Venatori, the Shadow Dragons are literally missing atm, so how on Thedas did Neve manage to arrange not one but SEVERAL cozy talks between them and Taash?). How is that supposed to be “Rivaini culture” if Taash had literally never heard of it from them and needed to go to a whole other country to find out about it?

This is just how afraid Veilguard is of its own lore. Companions may be the soul of Dragon Age games, but their lore is their spine. Without it, they’re just a shapeless mushy blob. I literally went through every single game just to live and help build this world. That’s just how powerful it is. And Veilguard is so scared of it (and Maker save us from any mentions of slavery in Tevinter or THE CROWS), it won’t let you get any close to it, at the cost of not even giving you the information you need to make your own choices.

But even though the game won’t give you the elements to understand what you’re doing, it will always clearly mark in bright neon colours what’s the choice it wants you to make. And after all, you don’t need to be informed to make informed choices… if the choices are already made for you.

“You’re not very good at being evil” (Bellara, 9:52 Dragon) That’s right… why am I no? Oh yeah, because BioWare decided so for me.

In BG3 you can literally choose to go for a mystery background that forces you to kick a squirrel dead, and you can choose either to fight it or go down the horror lane of the Dark Urge. And regardless of the background, at the end of the game you can literally fuck off the entire mission and just decide to become god and enslave the whole literal world. You can fucking turn your companions into fucking brainless squids! That’s the amount of liberty you have!

Now, a disclaimer. This amount of liberty does come with a cost. The choices you can make are many, but Larian has its own standardised plot, and that’s the one you get. Jaheira can die in BG2, she will still show up in BG3. And if when Larian releases BG4, they will have chosen one path of events. And whatever you might have wished to see reprised in this new game, you can only accept what is chosen for you. This is the trade-off when have this much freedom of choice. And all in all, it’s nice to have a game like BG3, but my heart lies with my choices, and I want to see them reflected in my worldbuilding.

Veilguard instead has a course set for you and all your companions, and you have no power over it. And that’s frustrating not because I would make the evil choice, given the chance. I am literally the kind of player who manually saves before starting a conversation with any PG, so I can go back and try not to hurt their feelings the second time. And yet, having an evil option is important, even for me. Because that’s when I choose not to use it.

I elaborated further on the importance of the evil option here.

In DAO, your character literally doesn’t speak with its own voice, and needs you to select every single dialogue line it’s gonna use with NPCs. From there, PCs have grown more and more independent… until here in Veilguard, they basically do everything on their own! Entire conversations are carried out without you being able to intervene, if not to give a small input every once in a while. You don’t really need to read the options you have, because you know that anything you choose will inevitably be just nuances of the same answer. And even the “blunt” option is not necessarily blunt. Only mildly more determined, but even your personality is not your choice. And the one you get, well…

credit: @9lunarseas6 via @timo-0126 (link)

Like… really? Rook is a far, faaaar cry from the wit Hawke spoiled us with.

For the unlucky souls who’re not acquainted with Hawke, this in the video is one of the personalities they can have. And all these personalities are very starkly defined, and depending on which you’d been selecting most often, they end up colouring many of your interactions, even without your active control.

What’s Rook’s personality? If I had to describe them as a nuance in an array of colours, Rook would be a bleached rag. And it’s not like you can do much about it, because of course, there’s the matter of agency. Rook role plays on its own, and you’re just a companion, giving them your input and hoping that will affect their decisions.

And speaking of companions… let’s discuss them. Because for months, years on end, BioWare wouldn’t. shut. up. about how important companions are to them, how central they are to their stories, so let’s talk about the companions.

Companions have always been the soul of BioWare games, because they have a stark and faceted personality they’re not afraid to show in all its vivid colours. And then there’s Veilguard. I won’t say they’re soulless or without a personality, but they are... bland. They have personal challenges and peculiarities that give them colour, but they are still faint hues of the usual rainbow we’re used to.

To give an example, let’s discuss the irony of Bellara asking why the hero of the story she’s writing would save the world... and this is the exact question the whole game never asks to any of its characters once. None of them has any sort of ulterior motive to join the Veilguard other than the answer Rook gives Bellara: “because we’re heroes, that’s what we do.” (Seriously? That’s how you get away with it?)

In DAI, the world was ending too, and yet there was always another, more personal reason pushing your companions to join the Inquisition. Thom was desperate to give his life a purpose and to make amends. Bull needed to keep an eye on the Inquisition on behalf of Par Vollen. Dorian got sucked in at first because he was trying to save his mentor and his friend, and then remained because he literally didn’t have anywhere else to go. Cole... he didn’t even care about the world ending! He was there because helping others was literally his nature. And all these personal reasons helped shape these characters and build the depth of their personality.

What are the personal reasons pushing these individuals specifically to join the Veilguard? Taash might be tagging along to free the blighted dragons from their misery (or just because their mother told them). But even that is hardly exploited along their arc. And the same can be told of every companion. They struggle to have any depth to them, which is completely foreign to Dragon Age characters, even when too hasty writing made for poor plot and character development (looking at you, DA2). Even Varric! VARRIC! A character who’s had two whole games to build and solidify his personality! Who’s hands down one of the most loved character of the whole franchise! How do you even manage such a feat?? Oh yeah, by relegating him to a corner of your palace that you never visit, without ever giving him any relevance to the game. [non-explicit SPOILER] No, the explanation given at the end is not enough. Varric is repeatedly narrated to be a great man, but all you see him do is making a few motivational speeches and conclude with “I’m going to take a nap”. How can you do so much dirty to such a character so thoughtlessly? New players will never know that Varric is indeed a great character, because they are told so all the time, but never shown.

But this ton of telling and not showing and general flatness is not exclusive to the companions. It touches everything. The lore, the relations between factions and characters, everything is oversimplified, and often reduced to a few key features that characterises pretty much every aspect of them. Most are reduced to their species or faction or such, which doesn’t allow for overly faceted motives and which in turn impacts your freedom of personalising your own beliefs and purposes.

Davrin: “So, you met a god” Bellara: “Well, technically, OUR god”

No, technically, freedom of religion applies regardless of your species, and both Davrin and I made it repeatedly clear that we want nothing to do with these self-proclaimed “gods”. So WHY can’t I just tell Bellara to stop forcing her beliefs on us, just on the grounds that we’re elves? “Remember the nursery rhymes?” No, Bellara. I was raised in Tevinter by human parents. Why would I know elven nursery rhymes?

I chose to play as an elf raised in Tevinter – from where Dorian says the Dalish literally stay away – exactly because I wanted to see what consequences would bring to play as an atheist elf raised far from elven customs who has to take down two gods from the elven pantheon. And guess what I saw? Nothing. It changes nothing. Not in my interactions with others and not in the knowledge I have access to. Bellara will still talk to me and speak of “our” gods, and I will keep on knowing Dalish lore and speak (native?) Elven, because apparently I got that for free, no explanation given to justify such competences. Zevran, Fenris and Sera were all elves raised far from Dalish or any elven influence, and they went about it in three radically different ways. Zevran struggled for every bit of memory he could gather of his mother and her Dalish customs, Sera rejected them all together, while his elven heritage was not even on Fenris’ radar. Me, I just know. Because. And don’t even get me started on tattoos…

credit: @0alix0 (link)

But I can’t conclude this odyssey of an essay before I’ve touched one last subject.

Bellara: “I think we’re getting close” Rook: “How sure are you?” Bellara: “As sure as I can be?”

The script. Oh, the bloody script.

I sincerely hope someone organises a poll to vote for the cringiest scene in Veilguard. I’m sure a fan favourite will be that already infamous scene of Taash’s coming out with their mother. My vote would go to the final dialogue with Isseya though.

Beside the cringe though, most of the problems with the whole script of the game is that it’s just… empty. Dull. Generally uninteresting.

In DAI, I would literally stop whatever I was doing just to pay extra attention to whatever banter had just kicked in. And it was always amazing banter! The wit, the jokes, the stories, the developing relationships! In Veilguard, I appreciated a lot the fact that banters interrupted by STUFF start again from where they left. And I often went back to the Lighthouse to take a tour of all companions and eavesdrop their conversations. But soon I realised… that too was often not worth the trouble.

It’s just all cheap script, that most of the time fails to be interesting or even relevant. What’s the point of the conversation between Bellara and Rook I transcribed above? What does it give me? Nothing. It only feels like a need to fill empty bits. And this applies to every single conversation in the game, from banter to plot dialogues.

Oh, and beside the poll! Can we also have a drinking game with Bellara’s lines? A shot for every time she says “he was/is my brother” (double if she adds another “my brother” afterwards) and “my/our people/gods”. I swear 60% of her lines are just copy-pasted.

Dragon Age had been away for a decade, and I understand the need to call to new players to rebuild a base after so many years. I get it. But while Veilguard is not a bad game, it’s not a Dragon Age game. Because it’s devoid of everything that makes Dragon Age what it is.

So what's next?

First of all, stop your plans on completely wiping off every bit of previous lore by just saying “the south was blighted and destroyed everything”. I see what you’re trying to do there. Don’t. Destroying all previous worldbuilding to start off with no strings attached is not the way to go. Instead, find a way to call back all the writers you chased away over the years, starting from Gaider. You need people who live and love this franchise, who know it and know what made it the grand experience it is. You need them. And you need to listen to them.

Then.

Veilguard introduced us to a shit ton of never-before-seen locations. Now let us get to know them.

No Dragon Age had ever had this many places in one go. Previous games are set in one, two locations at best. And all of them allow you to dive deep into the lore by playing it. You get to choose who rules these countries, to decide on whose side you’d rather stand in a war... so pick one location, two at most, of the many you introduced in Veilguard, and let us go deep into it. Let us fight slavery by Fenris’ and Dorian’s side (in Joplin, maybe? *winkwink*), let us see the consequences of the mage-templar war, let us know whatever the Divine decided to do with the circles. And let us get INVOLVED. All Dragon Age games have always been about being involved in a vast lore, so let us do it! Let us experience and live this rich lore! And let us write a bit of it too.

P.S. is anyone else annoyed that elves and Qunari have gradually become just humans with funny features? Like pointed ears and/or big horns? I so miss Merrill’s and Fenris’ cat-like eyes and the Arishok’s dragon-like brow.

[peonyneko]

To Know You Pt.1? | OldestSon!Nanami x YoungestDaughter!Reader

MDNI!!! PLEASE!

Note: Okay, this is going to be VERY self-indulgent, but if you enjoy it... Thank you very much. My writing is very rusty because it's been so long since I've written something. I usually just keep all my thoughts hidden in my notebook or document, but I just had to get this out. Oh! This also doesn't follow the original plot a lot, since most of the characters are alive!

Nanami is hinted to be in his mid/late 30s and reader is hinted to be in her twenties.

Warning: Arranged marriage, wedding planning, some angst??, and cursing

OldestSon!Nanami who was independent since he could remember. He helped take care of his siblings when he was younger, helping them with school and anything else. Albeit, he was not as unlucky as others, but he did notice his parents were much softer on his younger siblings than him. He was not only the eldest son, but also the eldest in general.

OldestSon!Nanami who overheard his parents talking amongst themselves, saying he’s the most reliable and rational out of all his siblings. Who felt good when his parents would thank him for doing work around the house and helping them.

OldestSon!Nanami who spent his youth being the best to take over his father’s business, with some rebellion in his blood. He had his fair share of fights with his parents because he was still their child after all.

OldestSon!Nanami who guided his younger siblings and sometimes still does. Who bought his siblings anything they’d ask for, when it’s reasonable. Who’d buy them pastries when they got yelled at. Who do indirect gestures to comfort them. Who’d lecture them when their parents didn’t, especially when it came to secrets kept from their parents.

OldestSon!Nanami who fully moved out at 22 and spent his twenties just… working, saving up money. Clocking in. Clocking out. Now, in his thirties, not married, while his other siblings were all engaged or married. He did feel a little jealous. Just a little.

OldestSon!Nanami, who wanted to get married after falling in love, but life did not go as planned. So there he was, nodding and agreeing to the proposal his parents brought to him. 

But he didn’t expect everything to happen so… quick! He didn’t even know who you were, but his mom seemed to love you. She’d compliment you any chance she got, so he goes along with it.

OldestSon!Nanami, who officially saw you for the first time on the day of the wedding planning, where you requested the wedding be only with family and friends. He was grateful. 

But good lord, if your photos were pretty, then he had to peel his eyes off of you to make sure he didn’t stare. 

OldestSon!Nanami, who wanted to deeply thank whoever chose your outfit that day. Only then to figure out, overhearing you and Gojo talk, that you actually love fashion and dressing up, all the time. 

OldestSon!Nanami, who noticed your jewelry matched his eyes and his heart hummed a little. He must be overthinking it. 

YoungestDaughter!Reader who went through so, so many looks to make sure he’d like it. Panicking even on the day of because “What if he hates it?” Your friends raising their brows ready to claw his heart out if he even raised a single issue about it. They’d never seen you act like this. 

YoungestDaughter!Reader who did, in fact, choose the jewelry to match his eyes. Not because you’re in love! But there was something about him… you don’t know what!

OldestSon!Nanami, who wanted to not judge you from your birth position as the youngest of your siblings, but (judging and hearing from others) the youngests are often rude and spoiled. He chuckles knowing his own sibling is like that, minus the rude part. They’re just… blunt.

Still, he made sure you were okay and comfortable during the planning. Nanami just hoped you both wouldn’t clash from your differences

YoungestDaughter!Reader slowly felt her heart flutter just the tiniest bit a his kind gestures, despite being guarded. Bare minimum, but thoughtful nonetheless.

OldestSon!Nanami, who was shocked that your parents wanted you to get married so soon after the proposal, but according to your parents and his, “The clock is ticking.” In a month?! You obliged and he, who had been hesitant at first, also agreed.

OldestSon!Nanami managed to take you out only once before the wedding. For him, no feelings were involved. It was to a fancy restaurant, where he paid for everything and was confused why you took your card out. Who noticed the faint blush on your cheeks when you put your card back. He didn’t comment or ask you about it, thinking you did not want to be asked. You were glad he didn’t.

OldestSon!Nanami stupidly asked you about everything except yourself! Checking if you ate. Checking if planning if going smooth. If your parent(s) and family members are okay. Everything except yourself. He, too, only spoke of everything except himself. Okay, actually maybe you did talk about yourselves, but it was only about your professions… Does that even count?

OldestSon!Nanami who took you for a walk through a beautiful public garden lit up with pretty lights. Who couldn't help but take a photo of you leaning down to take a good look at the flowers. One without you noticing, another when you caught him with his phone up and you gave him a sheepish smile for the photo.

In the three hours you were together, he had intrigued you and you’d intrigued him, but it goes nowhere else. 

OldestSon!Nanami who, by the end of the date, when driving you home apologized. “I may not be the love you're looking for and… I can’t guarantee love will flourish, but I will treat you with nothing but respect and care. If you want to break off the wedding, I would never hold it against you,” he whispered. 

Dropping you off home utterly confused and even a little sad. A mixture of emotions, actually a circus of emotions. Both good and bad.

YoungestDaughter!Reader who couldn’t sleep from the thought of Nanami being unhappy in the marriage. You were close to breaking it off, only to stop when your family looked so happy and sad sitting in the living room, because you’d finally agreed to marry!

OldestSon!Nanami and you both see each other in the wedding venue and he could faint right then and there because of how insanely pretty you look. He could barely handle the heat that rose to his cheek whenever you’d give him that sheepish, awkward smile.

So, so pretty! Too pretty! You knew what fit you.

You, too, bursting for the inside over how good he looked in the color you picked out. 

OldestSon!Nanami who continuously stole glances throughout the night and found himself intrigued by your voice and whenever you spoke.

OldestSon!Nanami, who damn nearly broke off the marriage after hearing about your age from Gojo, who had asked one of the bridesmaids for your age. Gojo then proceeded to make a joke about Nanami being a pervert.

OldestSon!Nanami, who now felt bad marrying you, wanted to apologize if you felt obligated to marry him. Who wondered why his parents would want such an age gap for his marriage. I mean… yes you both are adults but 12 years?!

“Didn’t you know?” Gojo snicked, only to raise a brow when Nanami shook his head.

“I assumed we’d be a few years apart.” Nanami admits his fault.

Gojo laughed. “She even looks her age, you idiot. Did you even ask her?”

OldestSon!Nanami who felt his stomach drop when the realization set in. He never asked you much about yourself. About your job, yes. But not… you. Not because he didn’t want to but your conversations never went there. In the hours you two were alone, which was albeit awkward, the conversation flowed from one topic to another without ever crossing into anything particularly about you or him. 

OldestSon!Nanami felt a burn in his chest when he saw Geto and Gojo talking to you. You gave them a cute smile too. He wanted that.

OldestSon!Nanami put the ring on your finger with the gentlest hands. You felt your heart swell.  He felt your hands return that softness and he almost cracked a smile when your finger brushed over his ring with gentle eyes, as if to comfort him and say, “I don’t regret it.”

OldestSon!Nanami and you were happy the wedding went smoothly. Much more smooth than Nanami thought it would. Nothing was out of place. Everything went as planned, and when things went “wrong” it quickly got resolved.

There were tears, but you surprisingly didn’t cry much at all, like he expected. He thought you’d be more sad to leave with him. After all, you’re only known him only for a month and you now had to leave your family. All your older siblings were all crying, why weren’t you? But he chose not to think too much into it. Maybe you just weren’t a crier. 

OldestSon!Nanami got a pat on the back from all his friends, those who stayed with him since high school. He was the last of them all to get married, after all.

OldestSon!Nanami gave respect to your family, guaranteeing your safety. He thought you’d stall your time with them when hugging, you did for a little while, but not as long as he thought you would.

OldestSon!Nanami who was in the car with you in near silence, other than the humming of the song the driver played. You hadn’t asked him anything, and he didn’t ask you anything until… 

“Why did you marry me?” you calmly asked looking out the window. Your voice was quiet.

He stayed silent, not wanting to say anything that would give you the wrong idea. 

He took a few seconds before responding, “I… My family liked you.  If they chose you, I thought you’d be a good fit.”

“Oh,” you replied, and before he could say anything, you added onto it, “I did too. I didn’t think I’d get married this year, but… here I am.”

He licked his lips, nervous for some reason.

“Did you want a love marriage?” he casually asked, just curious. You still looked off to the side.

You shrug, “I don’t know. Maybe, but also maybe not. I didn’t think I’d get married.”

OldestSon!Nanami who agrees with you. Revealing that he wanted a love marriage, he hoped to fall in love with someone, but was okay with this too. Who reveals that he doesn’t know how this marriage would go, but he’d never hurt you. 

“You’re my wife. I’m your husband. Until the end, I will be,” he says.

OldestSon!Nanami who fails to notice the glossy pricked tears in your eyes and blushed cheeks. Because you, for some reason, foolishly thought there was something between the silent glances from the past month.

OldestSon!Nanami who guides you to the room, letting you know that he’s okay with sleeping in a different room, he’d been preparing another room anyways. Only to be shocked when you refuse.

You tell him that you don’t mind sleeping in the same bed, but you avoid his gaze when you say you just don’t want anything else happening. 

OldestSon!Nanami who helps you prepare to sleep, removing anything you need help with. In comfortable silence, with only a few grunts of his confusion with the riddle of a dress and hairdo, he helps you undress, stepping out of the room after he unzips the back of the dress. 

OldestSon!Nanami who changes in the guest room to avoid making you uncomfortable. Who looked at you for many seconds straight seeing you in your pajamas when you softly told him you were done. Cute… So, so fucking cute. OldestSon!Nanami who wondered what was the black silky thing you hid away in your duffle bag right when you saw it on the bed. Letting it go, assuming you didn’t want him to notice.

OldestSon!Nanami who sleeps next to you that night, both of you turn back to back. Not out of malice or hatred, it’s just both of you being nervous and embarrassed. 

OldestSon!Nanami went to sleep wondering what this new life would be like. Who failed to see the tears that fell from your eyes that night. 

You, who felt so, so nervous and guilty. He wanted to marry someone he loves and now he married you because his mother found out you were single. You, who wanted to apologize for getting in the way of his love story. You, who turned towards him, wondering how you can make this marriage work. Because even if you started to feel some inklings of what seemed to be like? Love? Would he return those feelings?

OldestSon!Nanami who fell later, but fell much, much harder.

---

I will probably change this up a little bit soon or fix things up, but you get the gist!

This went one MUCH longer, than I thought... Thank you for reading!

[antinousletmehit]

ight, here me out...

What if y/n gets hurt along with the other suitors since Antinous dies in the Ithaca Saga? I mean, she terrorized poor Telemachus so she slightly comes as an enemy.

I didn’t know whether you wanted me to write a fic for this or just yap but I’ll just yap and later post maybe a short Drabble on this.

Okay so Aphrodites gamble was written and completed WAY before the Ithaca saga came out so the end part isn’t gonna be like the Ithaca saga in the slightest, besides the challenge.

Okay so y/n was definitely in the room when hold them down happens in this scenario. She SAW her brother die but before she could grieve the suitors picked her ass back up and said “wtf do you think you’re doing, FIGHT WITH US??” And she basically gets forced to tag along with them while she’s still sobbing.

Yk when Telemachus kills that one suitor guy? After he tells them to throw down their weapons he spots her and is like, “wait is that my bae—I meant enemy??” So he sees her crying and feels. A little bad before getting jumped by the suitors.

Cue Odysseus killing them after trying to jump Telemachus, and as soon as he goes in for the kill for y/n, Telemachus stands in front of her and is like “wait dad this one’s okay, don’t kill her” his dad will be confused but he lets it slide as he kills the others.

Then Telemachus will be like “soo…” while y/n is trying to finish her breakdown about her brother dying, and now is somewhat scared of Telemachus.

————————

She was crouched in the corner, her back pressed tightly against the stone wall. Her knees were pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them as if she were trying to make herself as small as possible. Her hair was disheveled, her face streaked with dirt and tears. She was trembling like a frightened animal, her wide, glassy eyes darting around the room as though she expected another attack at any moment.

Telemachus blinked, his chest tightening at the sight. He hadn’t expected to see her again. He thought she’d run—escaped into the night as soon as his father had lowered his bow. But here she was, a shadow of the girl he remembered.

The girl who used to tease him mercilessly.

For a moment, he couldn’t reconcile the trembling, broken figure in front of him with the Y/N he’d known. The Y/N who had always been by Antinous’s side, quick witted and sharp tongued, throwing barbs at Telemachus with a smirk on her lips. She’d always been confident, playful in her cruelty, almost like a cat toying with a mouse. He could still hear her mocking laughter in his head, the way she’d roll her eyes when he tried to stand up to her brother.

But this wasn’t that girl. That Y/N had been untouchable, proud, unflinching. This Y/N… this Y/N looked as though the world had broken her.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence like a crack in fragile glass.

Her head snapped up, and for a moment, her gaze locked onto his. Her eyes were wide and wild, filled with fear. She flinched, pressing herself further into the corner, as if trying to disappear into the stone itself. Her hands gripped her knees tightly, her knuckles white.

“Stay away,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and trembling.

Telemachus took a step back, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said quickly, his tone gentle. “It’s over. The fighting is done.”

Her breathing was shallow and erratic, and her eyes darted to the sword in his hand. Realizing how threatening it must look, Telemachus immediately sheathed it, the motion slow and deliberate. “See? I’m unarmed now,” he said, his voice as calm as he could make it.

But Y/n didn’t relax. If anything, she seemed to shrink further into herself, her shoulders shaking. “I… I didn’t want this,” she stammered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t want any of this. I just want my brother back, I don’t care for those idiots, I don’t care for the throne, I don’t care for the blood soaking the palace halls. I just want my brother”

Telemachus felt his heart clench. He had no idea what to say to her, no idea how to bridge the chasm between them. A part of him still burned with anger, this was the girl who had stood against him. But another part of him couldn’t ignore the way she looked now, so small and lost, like a bird with a broken wing. Telemachus felt a pang of guilt at the mention of Antinous, despite everything the older boy had done. He had been Y/n’s anchor, her protector. Without him, she was adrift.

——————

Idk then they kiss. But anyways, yea I think that would knock her off her pedestal for a while.

[girl4music]

Watching LEGION Season 2. Chapter 9.

Gods this show is so experimental. I love it.

It’s all about the mind and the power it can have once an idea takes ahold of creative and idiosyncratic people. It’s why it so heavily ties into mental health.

I said I wouldn’t do any commentary on my rewatch of this show but it’s just so damn thought-provoking, I can’t help expressing myself on how brilliant it is.

It’s stuff like this that really makes my INTP mind wild. And I’m just soaking all knowledge up like a sponge.

You know it pays well to be mentally predisposed because your preferred currency is information. And it’s always best when that information is open for interpretation and is given very little exposition.

It’s something for me - as the the person I am - to do because I care very little about crazy expensive CGI graphics and all the clever effects and tricks in the book if it’s not giving me anything for my mind to do.

That’s what I care most about with art/entertainment. The mental stimulation and consciousness expansion.

[eikichi-supremacy]

hey so do you think wtv keiko had to deal with growing up with yusuke could be considered a type of parentification

[drainbangle]

wait omg i’m curious about your unpopular thoughts about temenos writing wise.. i love when people discuss octopath writing it’s really enriching to see what we all have to say about certain story elements. plus you’re like a temenos representative to me. your thoughts about temenos make me go “so true!”

Aw, thank you! It took a while for me to decide on what to write here, since honestly I could go on for… frankly any aspect of this guy, especially in regards to treatment in fanon. But for now, I'll focus on my thoughts regarding how people treat tragedy in Temenos' story— namely, Crick's death— and why I personally dislike it as a writing decision and why I disagree with the idea that it is necessary.

Note: Goes without saying, but this is my personal opinion. If you believe otherwise, then that's all good. I'm not writing this to say that any one person is wrong, just to talk about an issue I have with the game's writing itself.

To start, I'll say that my main reason for disliking Crick's death in SH route is a matter of practicality. Killing him off causes Temenos to lose the main person that he had a fantastic relationship and banter with, and in my opinion, Temenos works best when he's bouncing off another person; not unlike most under the Sherlock-archetype.

Also, genuinely? It works wonders to keep Crick alive, if just because it provides a fantastic avenue to explore Temenos' institutional trauma. Having a character that's lived a different experience but within the same harmful institution opens up ways to explore the scope of its harm. And yes, this is for Crick specifically; not Ort, not the travelers, but Crick.

I think it really adds something that Temenos was raised by the church while Crick converted as a teenager during a really difficult time in his life. These two are good for each other. Crick sure as hell makes it a lot easier to write Temenos in fic.

(If you have a different experience, again, that's cool. I'm glad for you. I, however, will never fail to take the easy way out.)

(This is a lie, I'm over here making up fantasy church law for fic stuff but that's not related to this answer.)

I won't pretend that disliking Crick's death is an unpopular opinion. I mean, "Stormhail Fix-it" is an entire genre of fic on the OT2 Ao3 tag. What I do feel tends to go unaddressed though, is the fact that the idea that Crick's death is canon, therefore it is necessary, therefore it is the best decision; an idea that I wholeheartedly disagree with.

Within the text itself, Crick is killed off in order to give Temenos a personal reason to pursue Kaldena, thus putting him at odds with Kaldena's motivations being driven by her ideology and worldview that, "because humans committed the massacre, it was the gods' mistake to put us here". I also won't pretend that Kaldena's writing here isn't fucking awful, because Crick's death is also a device to make the player want Kaldena defeated even though she is just as much as a victim of the church; and that's to say nothing of her portrayal as an indigenous and dark-skinned woman.

These decisions are ones I disagree with. Killing Crick off was unnecessary to give Temenos reason to pursue the culprit, because Temenos already had someone close to him killed; and that's Pontiff Jörg. He raised Temenos from infancy, but due to the lack of focus on him outside of banter conversations, it's never relevant to his motivations outside of the desire for truth because a crime was committed. 

We also didn't need to kill Crick off to show that the church was a terrible institution, because Roi already went missing in action. The Sacred Guard is the main body of law within Eastern Solistia, it's not unreasonable to think that the reason why Temenos dislikes them is because they clearly didn't do shit to investigate his disappearance.

However, one thing I really don't agree with is the idea that Crick's death is necessary because Temenos' story is a tragedy. And if you asked me why, I'd ask this in turn: why is death the only form of tragedy? Furthermore, why must a tragedy contain only tragic events? That in mind, what gives anything value in a tragedy, then?

Pretend we cannot completely rewrite Temenos' story. Even then, changing Crick's death to a permanent injury, a coma, or whatever is still a tragic event; and that's nothing to say of living with the consequences. Isn't losing your faith a tragedy? Isn't losing something you worked for years to do a tragedy?

Similarly, I'd still argue that it's more valuable to make Stormhail a near-death experience because not only does it show Temenos succeeding in making someone question the church but also the terror that is feeling like you're doomed to repeat tragedy. Even if you really aren't, it's hard to dismiss that feeling; especially when it has to do with being victimized by institutions.

And before someone says, "but bad things happen to good people in real life", I'm not treating these characters as living, breathing people who are subject to things like gravity, hunger, and exhaustion. I'm treating them as choices, and choices made that I disagree with. 

It's why I make different choices. I choose to make Crick have to deal with chronic pain onwards. I choose to make Temenos realize change is still possible. I choose to let them both leave Stormhail alive. Are these better choices? I don't know. But I'll never stop questioning the ones made by the writers regardless; much less stop disagreeing with them.

So, in summary: I dislike Crick's death. I dislike Temenos having to spend the rest of the story without someone he can talk to so easily because Crick's absence weakens a lot of his scenes in Temenos 4. But more than that, I dislike the idea that tragedy is necessary on top of the idea that it is superior. Tragedy's good, I adore the genre; but written in mindful doses and all that.

[leezuhh]

the xenophobia in genshin is crazyyy 😭

[yary-t]

Me: *watches something*

My brain: ok now how can we turn this into Dreamling

Some Dreamling fics I'll never write:

That one His Dark Materials gifset inspired fic: Mr. Prince of Stories tries to declare his love by doing something they both heard in someone's story (maybe overheard during one of their weekly meetings at the New Inn). The significance of the gesture goes completely over Hob's head. Dream ofc thinks he's been rejected. He sulks. Misses their next meeting, and Hob, now aware of the fishbowl incident, freaks out. He has no reason to assume his friend is staying away due to anything he did, after all nothing out of the ordinary happened except the whole Dream putting a sweet into his mouth that’d been odd, so the logical conclusion is that Dream got himself kidnapped again. Cue completely unnecessary rescue mission.

The Newsreader au: Dream as a major newsreader struggling with depression, Hob as a producer. The fishbowl corresponding incident is Dream having been captured and held prisoner while covering a warzone, after which he stopped going on the field.

Altered Carbon au: Time and Night are meths. When people who should be beyond reach start turning up real-deathed, people who work for Endless Co, they increase security for all family members. Dream gets a security team, plus a personal bodyguard--a bounty hunter by the name of Hob. Dream does get targeted, and it turns out the killer has a specific bone to pick with him--it’s the Corinthian, a man who’d worked for Dream for years in the hopes of rising above his station, only to be carelessly tossed aside. Dream starts off very selfish, but ends up learning to give a crap about the people beneath him.

Chess (the musical) au: Dream is the USSR player (he has the views expressed in “Nobody's Side”* and “Where I Want to Be”**), Hob is the cocky British champion. They bang, fall in love, and Dream defects. 

Merrily We Roll Along fic (this would work better as a parody musical or maybe even a gifset, not a fic, but oh well): their meetings told backwards, starting from the 1889 fight, interspersed with the lyrics from the opening song*** and the transitions the ensemble sings (with the dates changed ofc), drawing heavily from that meta about how Dream’s reactions during each meeting informed how Hob chose to spend his next century in the hopes of being able to impress him in the subsequent meeting. And then an epilogue set in the present with them making up because I’m not as cruel as Sondheim

*Such a good song for Dream feeling trapped in his role:

Now I'm Where I want to be And who I want to be And doing what I Always said I would And yet I feel I haven't won at all Running for my life And never looking back In case there's someone Right behind to shoot me down And say he always knew I'd fall

**well, the chorus, anyway, not the bit about the singer’s current boyfriend:

Everybody's playing the game But nobody's rules are the same Nobody's on nobody's side Better learn to go it alone Recognize you're out on your own Nobody's on nobody's side

***The whole thing is so clever:

Dreams don’t die So keep an eye on your dream—

And before you know where you are There you are

Time goes by And hopes go dry But you still can try For your dream

Tend your dream…

How does it happen?

Dreams take time…

Once it was all so clear

Time goes by…

How can you get so far Off the track? Why don't you turn around And go back?

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

oh another thing about "Miss Scarlet and the Duke" s2.01--I love Hattie. I might actually die for her. I hope she and Eliza become the best of friends.

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.