#feel free to respond please lol

[sofancydancy]

I need opinions, please...Should the splatter remain? Or keep it clean? I am doing the entire Caravaggio image, but I'm not trying to post it all until the end... The main reason I wanted the splatter is because I wanted to play around with the idea that this could be Astarion after climbing from his grave. Any thoughts, please? lol

[batsplat]

thoughts on challengers ? 👀

haha okay sure. I was overthinking this when I first saw this ask but since then I've sent half an hour worth of voice notes to my number one person I send half hour's worth of voice notes to (listen she keeps encouraging me to) and I've ironed some of my thoughts out. also I should probably watch it again. some of this might be me misremembering shit. also it's not that serious. quick warning, this ended up being just. too long. it's basically just a long rant. under the cut it goes

so first of all, I really enjoyed watching this film. I liked the central premise a lot, I liked the chemistry between the characters, tashi was very hot, the score was fantastic, the cinematography was at least interesting, and a lot of the non-tennis bits are interesting

having gotten that out of the way. there's an interview where guadagnino says he doesn't watch tennis matches because he finds them boring, which to be clear is completely fair enough - but I do think it does slightly come across in how the tennis is filmed. there's definitely fun, neat stuff in there: the shot where it follows around the ball, the shot from underneath the court, all of that stuff. and I think there's obviously a lot of challenges with filming tennis when you have to make sure you can't, like, see the actors actually play tennis, and I don't know anything about film-making so I don't want to judge it too harshly. but there are a few established angles from which tennis looks good, and this film doesn't really use them all that much. it was interesting to what extent they went for side shots (basically from the tashi pov in the final match) rather than... well, picking a side, and at different points of that match actually giving the viewer a clearer sense of the visceral nature of what they're doing here. like, if you're going court level from behind the player, that's how you capture the weight of the shot on screen. which felt was a little bit... missing

okay... ffs this next section ended up kind of being tennis tactics 101, and then the other bit ended up being about how matches work. my basic point here is that I think this film did some interesting stuff with the tennis but, and this is part of my more longstanding frustrations about the untapped narrative potential of sports, I think you could've done a lot more and communicated a lot more through the actual tennis. not just for annoying people who want to go 'oh look that's an extreme western grip and explains why her forehand has so much spin but can also be fragile when absorbing pressure!!' but for the general viewing audience. I want to be very clear here: I do not really care about realism except when I'm being annoying in voice notes, I care about storytelling. if you understandably do not give a shit about all this tactics and match construction stuff, skip to the bit marked 3 for more of my thoughts related to the actual film

1

now you might go 'okay but this film isn't about capturing tennis and doing it justice - it's not even about tennis'. yeah, but tennis is the central metaphor! tennis is a relationship, right, but it's also a conversation. it's a way of communicating something to the audience, yes, in a way non-tennis fans can also pick up on. and a lot of the tennis looked pretty same-y. the points were very similar - the intensity was ramped up mainly by the characters just... whacking the ball harder, running side by side, and then sometimes they both move forwards. this isn't a realism issue, it's a storytelling issue. you can tell a story with a tennis point, you can construct these points in different ways to tell you different things

just to give you an example (I promise this is relevant): okay, the most common rally pattern in tennis is hitting cross court. so either you hit on the deuce court (from your pov, this is from the right side of your court to the left side of the other player's court, aka the forehand side for right handed players) or the ad court (the opposite, and thus the backhand side for right handed players). this is for a bunch of tactical reasons. the net is at its lowest in the middle so, y'know, you're less likely to hit it. perhaps most importantly, it's a question of angles and... okay look I don't want to bore the two people reading this with the details but just to very quickly explain, here:

say player a is hitting the ball along the red line to player b, the orange zone depicts the theoretical area in which the ball trajectory of player b's answering shot can go. like, if you want to get the other player to move 'out of the court', you can only do so by going back cross court... which is obviously where, in a cross court exchange, the other player is already standing. this is why a lot of the times, players don't 'recover' after their shots to the exact centre of the court, but instead make a judgement of where the centre is of the theoretical zone the opponent can hit. to put it in plain english: I hit a forehand cross, I don't move back to the exact middle of the court because I know where you can hit the ball back and I need to be in the middle of that - which skews to the right of centre. also, I just know it's more likely you're going to go cross again, because that's just how this works

you want to move the other player around, right, first of all to get the ball past them - but also to make it harder for them to attack you. you're trying to construct a point so that eventually they are the one who can't reach the ball/makes an error, not you. a lot of the times, continuing to go cross court is the smart option. it's less risky than going down the line, and also if your down the line shot isn't perfect, where it isn't a winner or at least a shot they'll struggle to attack, then you're setting up a situation where they have all the angle in the world to work with, where the centre of their theoretical hitting zone is nowhere near where you're actually standing and they can easily whack the ball past you

now, why the fuck does this matter when we're talking about the tennis threesome film? obviously, I don't expect the director to interrupt the film to explain angles to the audience. in tennis terms, 'go cross court' is tactics for babies, but it's still not something most viewers will be instinctively familiar with. but think about what it actually does if players keep exchanging shots cross court because they can't risk going down the line: they're engaging in a direct contest! they are measuring one shot against the other, my forehand against your forehand, my backhand against your backhand, and they are trying to assert dominance. sometimes, you have no choice to escape that exchange even when it's risky because their raw cross court shot is better than yours. sometimes, you're trapped in that exchange. how you can extract metaphors from that should be fairly obvious, and I don't think this should be visually too tough to get across - it's a power struggle between two people contained within a simple shot pattern. it adds variation to what the viewer is being shown (and, yes, it does make the points feel more realistic), but it's also a way of gradually ramping up intensity. my shot against your shot - who wins? who is willing to risk deviating from the norm? who sets themselves up for a trap - does patrick sucker art into attacking him down the line? can he then manage to counterpunch (to use attack as defence) by making it to art's shot in time and placing his response into the open court? who blinks first etc etc

look, this is only one way you can visually use tennis to add to the story. another common tactic is (if you're a right handed player) hitting forehands from the ad court, to 'run around the backhand'. that's an expression of dominance, it's a power play - you're trying to bully your opponent with your most powerful shot (which is the forehand for 99% of players, some might have better backhands but they won't have stronger ones), and you're deliberately recovering less to the centre. you're camping out on the ad side, and going 'yeah I don't actually think your down the line shot is good enough to hurt me, I actually feel very comfortable standing right here so I can more easily move far enough to the left to continue hitting forehands'. it's a tactic that is implicitly passing judgement on the opponent, and again, I refuse to believe you can't show this in a way that the audience understands roughly what's going on. have patrick bully art with his forehand into the weaker backhand or vice versa - they can use their faces to show how comfortable they are with their respective positions. y'know, make the actors act. have one of them find the backhand down the line, fire it into the bit of the court the opponent has completely left open. your characters are using tennis to assert dominance over each other, to manipulate, to deceive each other - you can do that with the actual tennis they're playing

you can also express character through tennis. I'm not saying different play styles function as a personality quiz, but inherently the way you play is going to reflect what you feel comfortable with doing on the tennis court. is your preferred point three shots long or twenty shots long? are you looking to dominate your opponent with your big weapons, or are you looking to trick them with your variety of shots and smarts in using them? or are you looking to just grind them into submission with sheer relentless consistency?

take the drop shot: a shot that 'drops' right after it clears the net as a result of how the player has put a different kind of spin onto it. ideally, it's so close to the net the opponent can't sprint forward quickly enough to reach the ball. how effective your drop shot is depends on several things. obviously, it's how good the shot and the placement and the spin you've put on it is. it also depends on where you're standing and where your opponent is standing, which means that particularly effective dropshots usually come after big, heavy attacking shots that have forced the opponent to move back and have allowed you to move into the court. and it also depends how good your disguise is: for as long as possible, it should look like the shot you're playing is going to be a bog standard forehand or backhand - until you readjust your grip at the last moment and slash the racquet downwards (vs the upwards motion you'd make with the bog standard forehand or backhand). this is a shot that depends on the element of surprise. it's about trying to fuck with your opponent, it's about choosing your moment. it's about playing with them! and you can get pretty memorable reactions from your opponent. if you wrong foot them well enough, they'll literally stumble when they realise what's happening and never even start running. maybe they'll comically flail their arms

I feel like when the men's world number seven throws his arms up in shock every time somebody hits a short ball, you can probably convey this kind of dynamic in a film

and think about what it says if somebody's using a shot like that. again, you're trying to fuck with the other player, and you are relying on your knowledge of the opponent to figure out when they might be susceptible to it. now, obviously, this is tough to do when you're playing someone for the first time and (unlike top level professional players) don't have a vast amount of data to work with and how often xyz shot works against them in xyz situation. this is generally why early in a match, it's a good idea to just like, test some stuff out to give yourself a sense of how they'd react, if it's a good idea to use it in a pressure situation (you also do a version of this in the warm up if you're smart, just check how they react to that high ball to the backhand! all about being curious y'know). but if you know someone, if this is an established rivalry, if this is someone you've played with since you're kids... well. then it's a different ball game entirely

patrick has the psychological edge in that match-up, right, and the whole point of that final match is that it shouldn't be that close but it's that close due to the mental dynamics between the pair of them. patrick constantly wrong-footing art and frustrating him is the easiest way in the world to visually demonstrate that dynamic. you're constantly trying to guess what your opponent is going to do, you're constantly trying to anticipate, yeah? you know what I said above about how you're 'recovering' to the centre of the theoretical zone and all that? well, sometimes you don't do that - you guess where the opponent is going to go. most often, you've got to do that when you know the opponent has a relatively easy shot and they can hurt you with it, so you have to play the probabilities and hope you get it right... it's basically like a penalty kick in football. it's a quick judgement you're making on the basis of past data, of what you think your opponent is thinking, of how big a risk you want to make - of when to time it, because if you move too early they can still change the trajectory of their shot and go the other way. maybe you even feint one way before darting the other. and your opponent might shoot one way or the other... but, sometimes they'll drop shot you while you're moving in one direction as you frantically try to change course. or, which is even more humiliating, they'll go straight down the middle - since you're no longer standing there

in narrative terms, what does it tell you if a character guesses rightly or wrongly? what would it say if art or patrick had that kind of intimate knowledge of each other - I know you usually do this, but I know you know that so I'm going to go the other way - round and round in circles, a mental contest between people who are so familiar with each other that it can become actively confusing to try and preempt their moves. tennis is a relationship and it's a conversation and the way we construct a point tells us a story about the history between you and me. it tells us a story if art, the six time slam winner and more accomplished player by far, is being read so perfectly by patrick that he's tripping over himself and getting in his own way and flailing. one of the most common commentating cliches is about the ball, or indeed the player, being attached to the end of a string. the extension of that metaphor is that one player is the puppet master and the other player is a puppet. easy visual metaphor bingo

you can literally express how the characters feel about each other by... where they're standing. if you're scared of your opponent's shot, then you're going to try and give yourself more time to react. if you are on the attack, then you need to move in, to take the ball earlier, to take time away from the opponent. to me, if you're showing fictional tennis, you really should be playing with time and how you can use cinematic techniques to play with that sense of time. now, you can do this on the broader level of the match, because your subjective sense of time is dependent on how well you're doing in a match. time never moves faster than when you're losing a six love set. but it's also obviously integral to actual points, because you are usually trying to maximise your own time and minimise your opponent's, trying to make sure you will always have enough time to get to the ball and making sure they won't (obviously often u kinda have to pick one of those because of how time works)

where you stand on the court is an integral part of that, for obvious reasons related to 'basic physics'. and, again, it's also psychological. take the return position, right, aka where you're standing when the opponent is serving. most people have a built-in preference for both the first and second serve, and a kind of basic 'return strategy' of what kind of shot they'd like to use and where to move. generally, you'll stand further back for the first serve because it's more powerful... but hey, maybe you have a slightly unorthodox return strategy where you're just trying to 'block' the first serve and use the weight of the opponent's shot against them, and then you step back for the second serve and have a massive whack at them. just as an example

and, again, this is another way in which you try to fuck with your opponent. there is nothing more annoying than seeing the twat on the other side of the net move in to the court by an insulting amount because they don't respect your shitty second serve and think they can take a swing at it from in front of the baseline. some players just do this in general - prime offenders on the women's side are garcia and ostapenko (and with all love to them, they do this more than is perhaps tactically prudent)

(for the other end of the spectrum, see another place from which you can theoretically return a serve from if you're out of your fucking mind) (this particular player's return strategy has been like a top five discourse point over the last few years but we do not have time to get into all that)

but you can also vary it up in a match, and you probably should if you're being smart. so for instance (and there's a specific match in 2022 I'm thinking of here), if you know your opponent has an awful second serve and a lovely little habit of double faulting when under pressure, maybe as the returner you just... well, look, the ball from the first serve has rolled right to your feet, so obviously you need to politely pass it to the ballperson, and maybe it just takes a little bit longer so that you know the server is looking right at you when you meander in front of the baseline to wait for their second serve. and then they double fault and that's the break of serve right there. you're not always standing that close to return second serves, but you're standing there when you know it'll make them most nervous. again, I am not saying the tennis threesome film needs to explain the difference between jelena ostapenko's and daniil medvedev's return strategies, but these ARE the kinds of things you CAN organically integrate, and give you very blunt and easy to understand messages about the characters and their dynamic

and like... different people have different play styles, yeah? let them express a little character! tashi is relentless, maybe she's constantly attempting to take everything with her forehand to attack and attack, or maybe she trusts herself to attack from any place with any shot. maybe she's so lively and confident and uncompromising that she uses down the line shots more than anyone else, or maybe there's surprising subtlety there in how the intensity and rage fades away for a moment as she flutters a slice across the net. what is it about her game that so captivates the two boys, its aggression or its complexity? is her game already more complete and well-defined and self-aware than it has any right to be from a high school student? or is it raw and untamed and a little wild and so full of potential?

art has a one-handed backhand and uniqlo gear in a very obvious federer allusion, but does he share any more with federer than that? is he particularly prone to rushing the net, especially after the serve? does he want to end points quickly? does he have good hands, is he trying to wrong-foot his opponent - or is he the one constantly getting wrong-footed as the others dance around him? is he constantly trying to assert his dominance, to end points quickly, and initially you think it's a sign of his power and confidence... but then you realise that it's insecurity - he's worried what will happen if they go on too long, if he gives too many chances to other players to outsmart him, if he's uncomfortable playing defence because it makes him feel reactive and weak. maybe in the second set he has to knuckle down and accept the rallies will be long and gruelling - which is a central aspect of tennis, it's about patience and managing risk. maybe he's so tense and nervous that he's just an error machine in the first set, but then he decides to just slow the pace and live with patrick in those forehand to forehand exchanges, let his natural weight of shot do the talking for him and force patrick to change things up

and patrick, with the unorthodox technique and the sleeveless shirts and the money and how he never really grew up - what does that tell us about his tennis? is it rough and energetic, big swings at the ball, layering on more and more spin to propel it high over the net? does he throw a massive forehand at art's backhand, making him hit it at a high point that is naturally uncomfortable for the one handed backhand? wouldn't it be interesting if you had patrick have a strong point to his game that naturally matches up to art's weak point, the chink in the six time grand slam champion's armour? what about the physicality, does he lunge further and harder and throw himself into balls just that little bit more? is he stronger than art, or is he faster, or is he neither? is he driven by instinct and gets in his own way less than art does, or is he tactically more astute and gets the better of art that way?

obviously you can't do all of those things in a film and you shouldn't because it's distracting. but what I'm trying to demonstrate here is that there is a whole range of potential storytelling you can tap into here. now, nobody's actually doing this, and my thing with challengers is that in many ways it came closer to the kind of narratives I would like to see. but then it still falls short just a touch, which is where the frustration comes in

a rivalry has got a history that is woken up again every time you step on court to face your old foe - you remember how they play, you already know what you want to do to beat them this time. you are trying to unsettle them. you know how they want to play and you want to deny them that opportunity. inevitably, any defined play style tells us something about the player and their personality and their approach to the game. the film is quite scarce on details about its lead characters and using the tennis more deftly would've been a great way to give us a stronger sense of who they are in a very economical, concise way. what does it mean for tashi's game that she can no longer run? yes, obviously it means she can't compete any longer, but the injury does different things symbolically depending on how big a part movement was of her game. often, tennis injuries directly affect your strengths. take a player who puts a lot of heavy spin on the ball by snapping their wrist - they are putting more strain on said wrist and may end up injuring it (a particularly terrible part of the body to injure for a tennis player). there's something extra cruel about that because it also affects how they'll recover, if they'll ever be able to trust that body part again. these are career-threatening injuries not just for physical but for psychological reasons. same thing if you're a great server with a shoulder injury... or if you're a great mover with a leg injury

also, and okay this probably did come across as nitpicking and it's not really an issue if it worked for people who aren't familiar with tennis... but omg the last point was so confusing. did check and this wasn't just a me problem, though I'd be curious if it worked for people less familiar with the game. when they came closer and closer to the net and hit back and forth, I thought what was happening was that they'd like, given up competing and were just hitting back and forth as a symbol of defiance or something. that they'd basically decided to stop playing the match and just play with each other. because like, you just can't do that in a match, the point would immediately be over especially if they're just standing there - they're too close! you'd immediately get the ball past! so I only realised when the film was over that it was supposed to be a really intense point... but I think that's the kind of thing where most people watching will probably be fine with it, so again. y'know. whatever. I do think you could have staged that point a little more cleverly to get to the same conclusion in a more natural way, but also. whatever. it's fine

(obviously there are also some other broader suspension of disbelief issues that I'm far less bothered about. the technique was like, not great, but also probably about as good as you'll get from actors, though again I would've liked a little more thought put into what they're doing beyond 'art's got a one handed backhand and patrick's got a quirky serve!' I thought the patrick serve thing was really neat and fun and theoretically you could hit a serve like that, though quite frankly in the men's game you'd probably be fucked because you need more racquet acceleration than that - but that does fit in with his character and the stubbornness and all that so it's fine. the art serve quirk... well, most players deliberately construct serving rituals like bouncing the ball several times or ball placement or whatever because it's the one shot in tennis that's completely 'on your own racquet' but is also really tough, so you're trying to trick your brain into always doing the same thing. I find it a little tough to believe art wouldn't have been aware of what he was doing, but again, not a massive issue. beyond my concerns about the lack of variation in the points they were showing, it did also trip me up whenever they were obviously stranded in no-man's land - you need to be either on/behind the baseline or right at the net and there's certain areas of the court where if you spend too long in them you are very much fucked. the whole concept of 'recovering' after a shot is like, as important part of tennis movement as getting there in the first place, and there's whole footwork patterns you use while you're hitting the shot and immediately afterwards to get yourself in position again. at times they'd just be standing in place in the fuck end of where on earth are you standing until the next shot comes and. listen. it really Does Not Matter beyond how it's fun to be annoying about this stuff but it did make me a bit twitchy)

2

so. match constructions and narrative arcs. I think if a literal match of tennis is the framing device of your film, you should think about the natural narrative tension that exists within a literal match of tennis. again, a match is a conversation, it has its ebbs and flows and peaks and troughs and all that other stuff. you are more tense at *4-5 30:30 than you are at 1-1* 15:0. you are feeling better about your life choices at 6-4 *5-3 than you are at 7-6(8) 0-6 *1-3. you change over the course of a match, as you test yourself physically and mentally and acquire a situationally specific data bank about yourself and the other player, as you notice and learn certain things about what's going on in your own game and your opponent's game. maybe you have a moment where you go 'yup the backhand's a catastrophe today, time to slice everything and hope for the best' or you go 'lol that's the third consecutive djokosmash they've hit, maybe I'll throw the ball high up again next time they get to the net'

also obviously all these things vary over the course of a match - and they do so more than they have any right to! there's no logical reason why 6-1 1-6 6-1 scorelines should happen, but they do! because game breaks and changeovers and set breaks and all of it can represent massive shifts in momentum. you play a *5-0 game differently than a *0-1 game, and suddenly those beautiful forehands you were ripping for half an hour are all flying out of the stadium and, shit, time to change tactics to defend more except now you're really screwed because you're playing your opponent's game. the most important thing to remember about tennis is that it fucking sucks. matches are psychological torture. I want to feel that part when watching the tennis threesome film

the basic mechanism of narrative tension in a match is the serve vs return dynamic. if you serve, you need to protect your serve, because those are the games you are supposed to be winning. if you return, you need to attack the opponent's serve, because those games represent opportunity. you want your service games to be short and fast and you want your return games to be long and tough and miserable for your opponent. and after every game, it ticks back again - you are literally passing the ball to the other side of the court. your turn, have fun!

there are a million different ways you can construct tension on a micro level within a match. you have breakpoints/matchpoints, obviously, which to some extent the film did feature. you have games that just get stuck on deuce, with neither player able to win the requisite two points in a row to release them, so it's like... basically groundhog day in sports as you keep trotting from one side of the court to the other, both players frustrated, one unable to escape the danger and the other unable to seize the opportunity. battle of the wills. games can completely realistically last more than twenty points. obviously you've got tiebreaks, which again the film did feature (though icl I had no clue what the score was supposed to be, again it doesn't matter but). you have the old cliche of 'it's not a break of serve unless you've backed it up' (aka by holding your own serve) and how common it is to be broken straight back for various nasty psychological reasons

I wish they'd played with this a little more, just showed a little more of why the players were reacting emotionally in the way that they were at certain stages of the match - rather than just basically reacting to the flashback we've just seen. like, there's plenty of reasons why a player might get particularly angry at a certain point of a match in a way that just feels a bit more organic. if tennis is the medium through which to explore this three-way relationship, then showcase that push and pull factor, those changes in momentum. the film suggests patrick has always had the upper hand - I'd make more clear this is the classic 'pigeon' dynamic where basically the head to head between two players is more skewed than it has any right to be given how 'good' those two respective players actually are. usually that means there's something funky going on with the play styles or it's something mental or it's an interaction between the two. patrick really cares about art, right, and then he's always able to beat him because he gets him and knows how to mess with him. art has the more raw ability(?) but it takes a bit longer for him to actually realise how good he is, in part because he always lost to patrick

the way they should've done this imo have a place where art does actually choke a sizeable lead, a kind of unexpected switch of momentum. like have this be the first set where art comes in hot and is y'know the obviously better player and all that, but then patrick just increasingly manages to unsettle him. make it a proper bad one, say *5-2 to 5-7. throw in a long deuce game. and then art is confronted with all his old demons again, his inadequacy, all that stuff. and then you've got the momentum switch after the set break when art manages to pull himself together. the thing is, they do actually show a fair bit of the match, but it's not always that interesting because it lacks a little bit of specificity, a little bit of detail... just make a few adjustments that accentuate the central dynamic. you don't have to go with this exactly but go with SOMETHING, 6-2 2-6 is such a nothingburger score lol like what does that tell us... 7-5 1-6 is what it's all about

(dumb nitpick corner: unlikely a time violation would get called between first and second serves, and if you do so then you'd better hand out a time violation if the receiver starts faffing about between points right after, rather than quietly talking to them off-mic. but hey, the establishment is corrupt, they obviously wanted art to win. also, there's a mistake on the scoreboard at the *5-6 game where they accidentally make it look like art is serving for the match at that stage, which would completely change the dynamic of that game and the previous game and the implications if art had let it go to a tiebreak - aka he would have choked. just slightly confused me when the umpire called out 'thirty love' after patrick won the point lol)

3

so maybe this all does come across like I hate the film, which I really did not. I enjoyed it a lot, and honestly it's not like there's much to choose from in terms of 'sports media that seriously engages with the narrative potential of the actual sport'. there were plenty of storytelling details I really vibed with, especially the dynamic between the central three characters and the push and pull between them and how they work as a trio. all three sides of the triangle were good fun. the way the two blokes were so in sync at times, that kind of easy intimacy and familiarity - again, I think you could have expressed that more through actual tennis but that did absolutely work for me

the actual 'playing a challenger before uso' thing was also fun, though I was wondering what his ranking was like because it must have still been kinda in the pits. like, you can't show up to a challenger as a top ten player. not that it actually matters matters but just. whatever. I do think the premise is neat

(though, that challenger audience was not keyed in enough! like omg if you're showing up to some random challenger to watch a top player on the injury comeback try to rack up some wins and the final is against the guy he played doubles with to win a junior slam, everyone watching would be SO aware of it. those spectators aren't just randomly being drawn into the drama, they know what's up!! you just know the challengers tv stream is racking up crazy figures. idk this is obviously more of a subtle thing, but I feel like it was supposed to give off the vibe of the non-tashi viewers being surprised by why they were being such weirdos all of a sudden but nah they would be ON IT with their patrick zweig backstory. including the fact he used to date tashi lol, like yeah they'd Get It)

I loved a lot of tashi's characterisation, how fucking obsessed she was with tennis and how everything was About Tennis for her... like yeah very real!! of course it eats her up!! I had a bit of a debate about this but I personally really liked the college tennis thing because it felt like a complete curve ball given her characterisation. it's good though, this idea that she wants to fool herself into believing she's more than hitting a ball but she's actually not... because of course she isn't.... none of these people are.... I like that element of self-delusion, even though it still... hm, I'm not entirely sure the film COMPLETELY sold me on that level of self-delusion because it was so obvious she didn't care about anything except for tennis... like it never quite felt entirely clear what she thought she was getting from that experience. but yeah, the central premise of it all... like the fact she just can't say goodbye to that world, that she can't really escape it, that she has to pursue something related to it to feel alive, even by proxy, the suspicion that all she needs art for is to have that kind of second hand thrill... really good!!

I was talking about this with the unfortunate recipient of my voice notes, and she's more familiar than I am with american college tennis than I am for the fairly obvious reason that only one of us has attended an american college. she said she'd discussed this with some of her friends and that that kind of injury did feel a touch unrealistic in the context of college tennis, partly because you're less likely to be playing with the kind of schedule that professional tennis requires of you. now, this doesn't really bother me, but I almost wish they'd leaned into the tragedy of it more - that it was unlikely and she didn't even get it while playing professional tennis! she was engaging in this grand act of self-delusion that there was more to her than tennis, which, let's face it, just really isn't a thing when you're a very good junior player, and she got injured before she ever even got close to 'making it'. it's tragic because it should never have happened. whatever injury art picked up (can't remember if they mentioned) would be statistically more likely to actually fuck you over, given their respective ages and time on tour and all that. you don't typically randomly get career ending injuries when you're running for a ball, not if you've trained properly - both in the sense that you're moving 'correctly' on the court and you've developed the muscles to protect yourself (which admittedly she was looking a touch light on). perfectly fine as a narrative choice, lean into it more

the churro college conversation between patrick and art was good, but that's another thing I would've integrated more into the tennis. like, the thing about him actually going for what he wanted and all that? you can do that through tennis! I also kinda wanted more of a sense of what tashi brought to the coaching dynamic, just something very simple and straightforward even the non-tennis viewing audience can understand. again, you've got this fairly obvious federer expy set up going on with art, and the glimpses we got of his game ... I mean mainly the one handed backhand, it does lean towards him being a player that's naturally oriented towards aggression. I would've maybe gone for the whole.... y'know. him not really being able to embrace that, him always holding himself back a little bit, not willing to fully give himself over and throw himself into the game. that tashi kinda has to get him to go for it, to go after the ball, to step into the court and use that technically excellent flat forehand stroke and trust himself to find those angles and rush the net and play the game, rather than letting the game play him. linking that into his loss of motivation post injury, where he feels like he's achieved what he wants to, where maybe he kinda retreats into himself. which is partly a motivation issue but also about trusting yourself post injury... not really being able to go after it in the same way any more, struggling to commit to that kind of aggressive mindset when your heart just isn't it any more. or something! just a thought!!

that's the thing right - sure, tennis might be a relationship, but the tennis will always be a character in its own right in whatever twisted threesome thing they've got going on. at the end of the day, the real toxic relationship is with the tennis! it's sad tashi can't leave it behind, it's tragic she's organising her whole life around something that'll always be lost to her. but it won't ever let her go, even though it hurt her, even though it caused her physical pain as well as emotional. it's the truest love in the whole film, tashi and the game itself, and all other love is subservient to that. it's also the most interesting relationship that needed to be... well, a little more foregrounded. she's always chasing that high, that moment of perfect communication and understanding and all that - and it's an entire lifetime of work, chasing the briefest of moments and now even that is gone. something she won't ever be able to recapture. she can't live her dream and she can't move on, so she is forever trapped, in stasis, frustrated and tormented by desires she can't act upon, the worst kind of repression imaginable. and it's not just about playing tennis in general - it's about playing matches. the height of competition, the moment in the point and in the match in which losing or winning feels like an equal possibility, where anything could happen but only one player will eventually emerge victorious... she's chasing the high of uncertainty, of suspense - the equivalent to showing up to the bedroom of two blokes and knowing anything could happen, not knowing yet what choice she will make, who will win, who will lose. if you really want to get abstract about this, she's essentially functioning as, y'know, the tennis gods with these two boys, where she is the one to make the choice of who wins and who loses. she is the one creating the uncertainty, the suspense. and she's doing it all for the love of the game, because that's all she ever truly loved

or that's what I think they should've gone for idk. I also have a few kinda dumb thoughts like 'ugh I needed more of a sense of what patrick's career looked like, are we talking never made it to the main draw of a 250 or slam quarterfinalist because both are plausible'. but anyway I think narratives in sports are neat and I wish more people did stuff like challengers did, even if I think I was just looking for something a little different from what that film was doing. you do kinda need somebody who's really into sports to do some of this stuff I feel, but. well. sports rivalries really is a bit of a tragically under-explored storytelling set up. they're good narratives. somebody write them

[ssreeder]

I JUST FINISHED BINGE READING ALL THE ENTIRE LIAB SERIES AND I JUST CAN'T SHUT UP ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE ITTT

I've never read a fic this long in english, it really helps me with the lenguaje, i just love how you write your characters, especially Sokka 😭

Im really looking forward to a haircut conversation and just can't wait to have the whole character reuniooon!! Especially Zukka + Katara + Hakoda after the whole kissing in front of the whole tribe thing...

Anyways i just got tumblr cause i wanted to scream abt how much i adore your work (and lowkey pressure you into updating) 💕💕

HIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!

EEEEEEEE!!! I’m so glad you enjoyed LIAB! & im giddy you came all the way to tumblr to tell me!! I love it!!

Oh yes the haircut convo between Sokka & Zuko is going to be interesting considering the implications and we don’t even know any of Zukos thoughts behind it ;) it’ll be fun!!

The water tribes arrival will be bringing along some drama considering they know, but the others don’t know, but the boys are being secretive … oh yeah & there’s Chang haha. (& Ara……..) Hehehehe there’s some emotional moments coming up that’s for sure. (& some surprises both good & not so good lol)

WELCOME TO TUMBLR!!! <3

[cold-neon-ocean]

.

[hahahax30]

I think gabrily sold the house of London to not maje Alex go there againafter what he lived there

This makes a lot of sense ngl. I like to think they moved either to Idris or closer to Gideon and Sophie (who are also mourning the loss of a child).

[chronomally]

Looking through my class's discussion board for ideas on how to improve the performance of my long-term project. Someone was like "I set my program up so that rather than just giving up if it can't get the right answer, it picks a random answer from the ones available." Anyway I did that and now I have an A for this check in 🙈

[rosewheresheshouldntbe]

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[rathockey]

we need to talk more. and also you’re very swag.

me? swag?

you're too kind <333

send me your anonymous (or not) opinion of me :3c

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK Men React to Seeing You in Their Clothes

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader; Yuta x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Warnings: fluff over fluff, I'm pretty sure I already wrote something like this but I can't find it anymore lol, all scenarios talk about the clothes of the said jjk men being big on you so please don't read if this isn't what you vibe with (but feel free to let me know if you want a version in which their clothes actually fit reader quite well!)

Gojo Satoru

The apartment is unusually quiet as you move through the living room, your bare feet padding lightly across the cool floor. Gojo had left early this morning to deal with some “business,” leaving you alone with nothing but a mess of his belongings scattered around. You’re not one to complain though - cleaning up after him has become second nature after spending so much time together.

As you tidy up his place, you come across one of his oversized hoodies. It’s sprawled across the back of a chair, still slightly wrinkled from when he wore it the night before. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the fabric, and for reasons you can’t quite explain, you find yourself reaching for it.

It’s soft, much softer than you expected. You hold it for a moment, staring at it thoughtfully before a mischievous grin tugs at your lips. You slip the hoodie over your head, the fabric swallowing you whole. The sleeves are comically long, almost covering your hands completely, and the hemline reaches down to your thighs. It’s so big that it feels like you’re wearing a blanket, and despite yourself, you giggle at the sight of your reflection in the hallway mirror.

You sit down on the couch, pulling your legs up under the hoodie, and let yourself relax into the comfort of wearing something that smells like him. His signature cologne that follows him around wherever he goes, that makes your heart skip a beat every time you smell it. To be honest, you really miss him. These past weeks were so busy that you didn’t really get the chance to see him more than 2 hours before passing out sleeping. What you’d do for a whole afternoon, just you and him…

Not long after, you hear the oh so accustomed sound of the door unlocking, followed by the familiar voice of Satoru calling out, “I’m home!”

You stiffen for a moment, wondering how he’ll react, but you can’t hide now. Fuck, you never wore his clothes before. After all, they belong to him and you have no right to grab his stuff as you please.

Before you can say anything to defend yourself, Gojo steps into the living room, his bright blue eyes immediately locking onto you.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, a slow, amused grin spreads across his face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he teases, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

His sunglasses are perched on his head, revealing his crystalline eyes that seem to glow with delight.

“Did you raid my closet while I was gone?”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool despite the sudden warmth creeping up your neck.

“Your place was cold. Figured I’d borrow something.”

Gojo doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he walks over to you, crouching in front of the couch as he eyes you up and down. His grin widens as he takes in the way the hoodie completely engulfs you, making you look even smaller than usual.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, laced with something playful but undeniably affectionate.

He reaches out, tugging on one of the oversized sleeves gently.

“In fact, I think it suits you better than it does me.”

You scoff, though your heart skips a beat at the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You think everything looks good on me.”

“That’s because it does.”

His grin is infuriatingly confident, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“But you, wearing my clothes? I think that might be my favorite look.”

He leans closer, his nose brushing against your temple before pressing a soft kiss there.

“You can keep it if you want,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t think I’m getting it back anyway.”

Megumi Fushiguro

It’s early morning, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting a soft glow over Megumi’s small apartment. He’s still asleep, his dark hair a mess of unruly strands as he breathes softly beside you. You’ve been staying with him for the weekend, a rare break from the chaos of jujutsu sorcery.

As you quietly slip out of bed, careful not to wake him, you feel the cool air hit your skin. Without thinking, you look around the room for something to cover yourself with. Your eyes land on one of Megumi’s plain black shirts, tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair. It’s oversized, much bigger than anything you’d typically wear, but you shrug and grab it anyway.

Slipping it over your head, the fabric is soft and familiar, carrying the faint scent of him. It hangs loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long and the hem falling halfway down your thighs. You glance at yourself in the mirror, a small smile tugging at your lips. There’s something comforting about wearing his clothes, like having a part of him with you even when he’s asleep.

As you turn back toward the bed, you freeze. Megumi’s awake. His dark eyes are half-lidded, still clouded with sleep as he watches you from the bed. You can’t quite read his expression -it’s a mixture of surprise, confusion, and something else you can’t place.

“You’re up early,” he mutters, his voice still thick with sleep.

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t think you’d mind if I borrowed your shirt.”

Megumi blinks, his gaze drifting over you slowly. He doesn’t say anything right away, but you can see the way his eyes linger on the way the shirt swallows you, how it looks like you’re drowning in fabric. After a long moment, he finally speaks, his voice quieter than before.

“It looks good on you,” he finally speaks out, a little awkwardly, as if he’s not quite sure how to compliment you.

“Better than it does on me.”

You can’t help but laugh at how flustered he seems, even though he’s trying to play it cool.

“Really? I think it’s a little big.”

Megumi shakes his head, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his messy hair.

“No. It’s perfect.”

He pauses for a moment before adding, almost shyly,

“You should wear my stuff more often.”

His words catch you off guard, and you raise an eyebrow at him, surprised. Even though you know all too well that Megumi Fushiguro has a soft spot for you, you never really thought about stealing or borrowing his stuff. After all, he is the guy who slaps the back of Yuji’s head each and every day over stealing his sandwich or equipment. And now…he’s telling you straightforward that he wants you to wear his shirts?

“You want me to?”

He looks away, his usual stoic mask slipping just a bit as a faint blush creeps up his cheeks.

“I mean... yeah. It suits you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. Megumi isn’t one for big, flowery declarations, but this, this small, almost hesitant compliment, is enough to make your chest warm. You walk over to him, climbing back into bed and curling up beside him like you always do after waking up.

“Well, if you insist,” you mutter teasingly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I might just steal more of your clothes.”

Megumi huffs, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his loose shirt.

“I don’t mind.”

Yuta Okkotsu

You’ve been staying at Yuta’s apartment for the past few days, crashing at his place while you’re both on a break from missions. It’s been nice: quiet, peaceful, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company without the usual chaos of jujutsu high looming over you.

It’s late in the evening now, and you’ve just gotten out of the shower, feeling refreshed after a long day. As you towel off your hair, you realize you forgot to grab something to wear. Your suitcase is still in the living room, and you don’t really feel like walking out there in just a towel.

Your groan in frustration over your usual absent-mindlessness, eyes landing on one of Yuta’s old sweatshirts, folded neatly on the chair by his desk. It’s a little worn, clearly well-loved, and the idea of wearing something of his brings a smile to your face. Yuta definitely wouldn’t mind you wearing one of his shirts, right? And even if he did…you’d love to see that little blush creep up his face.

Without thinking twice, you pull the sweatshirt over your head. It’s oversized, the sleeves long enough to cover your hands, and the fabric is soft and cozy against your skin.

You’re adjusting the sleeves when the door creaks open slightly. You look up just as Yuta steps into the room, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees you.

“Oh, hey-” he starts, but then he freezes, his gaze locking onto the sweatshirt you’re wearing.

His face flushes almost instantly, a deep red creeping up his cheeks as he stares at you.

“Uh… is that…?”, Yuta stammers, clearly flustered.

You glance down at the sweatshirt and smile sheepishly.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I forgot to grab my clothes, and this looked comfortable.”

Yuta blinks, his face still bright red, but he quickly shakes his head.

“No! I mean, I don’t mind at all! It’s just… you look… um…”

He trails off, his eyes flicking away as if he’s too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

You giggle softly, stepping closer to him, to tease the hell out of him even more. That poor innocent boy who doesn’t even dare looking your direction when you stumble in the bathroom in the morning with noting but a shirt and panties on.

Even though you’ve been together for over a year by now.

“I look… what?”

Yuta clears his throat, still avoiding your gaze.

“You look… really cute,” he mutters, barely audible.

“In my sweatshirt, I mean.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help but smile as you reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, Yuta.”

He finally meets your gaze, his face still red but his expression softening as he squeezes your hand back.

“You can wear my clothes anytime you want,” he says quietly, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

You grin, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I might just take you up on that.”

Yuta chuckles, his arms wrapping around you in return as he pulls you close.

 “I wouldn’t mind,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Not at all.”

Nanami Kento

It’s late, and Nanami is still out on a mission. You’ve been waiting for him to come home, but the clock is ticking past midnight, and exhaustion is beginning to catch up with you. After all, you’ve had a long and exhausting day at work yourself.

You’re curled up on the couch, half-asleep, when the chill of the evening air prompts you to grab something warmer to wear.

Your own clothes are in the bedroom, and you don’t feel like moving that far. Instead, your eyes land on one of Nanami’s neatly folded dress shirts, sitting on the back of a chair. It’s probably not the warmest option, but the idea of wearing something of his feels comforting, like having a part of him with you while you wait for him to return.

You slip the shirt on, the crisp fabric soft against your skin. It’s too big, of course, the sleeves hanging past your wrists and the hem falling almost to your knees, but it’s cozy in its own way. You curl up on the couch again, pulling the sleeves over your hands and breathing in the faint scent of him that still lingers on the fabric.

You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until the sound of the front door opening stirs you awake. You sit up groggily, blinking as Nanami steps inside, looking tired but unharmed. He pauses when he sees you, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in the sight of you wearing his shirt.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of Nanami’s lips.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he observes, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

You rub your eyes sleepily, nodding.

“It was cold, and I didn’t feel like getting up.”

Nanami walks over to you, his expression soft as he takes in the sight of you.

 “It suits you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

“I didn’t expect to come home to this.”

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“If you don’t like it, I can-”

“I like it,” he cuts in, his tone firm but gentle.

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand lingers at your cheek.

“I like it very much.”

You smile, leaning into his touch as you look up at him.

“I might have to borrow your clothes more often, then.”

Nanami chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek before he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re welcome to them,” he breathes out.

“Though I have to admit, you make my clothes look much better than I do.”

You laugh softly, your heart warming at his rare display of affection.

“I doubt that.”

Nanami shakes his head, his eyes soft and filled with affection as he looks at you.

“It’s true. But regardless, you’re welcome to them anytime” he insists.

With that, he sits down beside you on the couch, pulling you into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You snuggle into him, the warmth of his body and the comfort of his shirt making you feel safe and content.

“Thank you, Kento,” you whisper, closing your eyes as exhaustion starts to pull you back into sleep.

Nanami presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice low and soothing as he murmurs,

“Anytime, love.”

Tags:

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[milkloafy]

I COULD BE YOUR CRUSH — WRIOTHESLEY

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: you gush about your crush to neuvillette over some tea, and your crush unexpectedly joins the tea party and overhears you talking about him. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: fluff, fem!reader (use of princess as a petname), sassy neuvi, mentions of ayato ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.2k+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: alexa play crush by tessa violet,, LOL i was thinking so hard about the song title then i was like okay yeah these lyrics work ;-; titles are so hard.. anywayyy PLS ENJOY SOME WRIO FLUFF FOR THE SOUL !!

“You just don’t understand, Neuvillette,” you sighed dramatically, stabbing your fork into the delicate cake in front of you. “He’s totally swoon-worthy.”

Neuvillette took a sip of his tea before carefully placing the cup back on its saucer. For a while, he continued to stay silent, as if considering his words.

Once he finally opened his mouth, the only question that came out was a calm, “How so?”

It didn’t take long for a million reasons to pop into your head.

“Well…have you seen his arms?” you gushed. “Is that not enough of a reason in itself?”

Neuvillette scoffed, a smile of amusement playing on his lips.

“That’s not all, of course,” you clarified, grabbing a throw pillow from the sofa next to you and hugging it close to your chest. “He’s also caring and kind and treats everyone with respect, no matter who they are.” 

Neuvillette’s gaze flickered briefly to the door behind you, but you paid it no mind.

“Not to mention how he looks when he gets all serious. Neuvillette, have you ever seen him talk about a prisoner he had to punish? It’s so…” You hid your face behind the pillow, cheeks flaming at the thought.

Before you had a chance to collect yourself, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You immediately stilled in your seat, slowly bringing the pillow back down to your lap.

“Sorry I’m late. Who are we talking about?”

Neuvillette smiled, ignoring your frantic look directed right at him. “Wriothesley, welcome. You are not too late. Please, take a seat.”

Wriothesley slipped onto the sofa, taking a seat next to you. Neuvillette poured him a cup of tea that he graciously accepted. Looking over at you, Wriothesley brought the drink up to his face and asked, “Care to tell me who you were speaking of before I arrived? It sounded like you were singing their praises.”

You fiddled with the the hem of your silk pajamas— Neuvillette failed to inform you beforehand that a certain someone would be joining the tea party, so you appeared in your regular sleep clothes. You racked your brain trying to come up with a response. 

“Oh, you know… Kamisato Ayato,” you managed, vaguely remembering how you saw his name and face on the cover of The Steambird recently. “The head of the Kamisato clan is such a…dashing and strong leader. I think.” 

“I didn’t realize you were close to Kamisato,” commented Wriothesley, sitting with one leg loosely draped over the other as he leaned back against the sofa.

“Oh,” you shook your head, “no. No, I’ve never even met him.”

Wriothesley raised a singular eyebrow in question. “Your words earlier seemed so strong for something directed at a man you have never met.” 

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even though your heart threatened to beat our of your chest. “You know how enamored a crush can make someone.” 

“I do,” Wriothesley agreed, his gaze locked onto yours so intensely that you almost had to blink.

“I’m sure you do,” remarked Neuvillette, still sipping his tea.

You and Wriothesley both looked over at him.

Neuvillette blinked. “Did you forget I was here? This is my office, is it not?” When no one responded, he sighed. “Well, I finished the last of my tea and I have some work to wrap up. Feel free to stay as long as you need.”

Neuvillette made his way back to his desk and Wriothesley refocused his attention towards you. 

“So. Kamisato Ayato,” he brought the clan leader up once more.

You choked out a laugh of exasperation. “Are we still on this? Just let me have my silly little crush on someone across the world who doesn’t even know I exist.”

Tapping his fingers against the teacup, Wriothesley huffed. You realized he looked almost annoyed and frustrated.

Just as you were about to ask him what was wrong, Wriothesley opened his mouth and said, “Would it be overbearing of me to say I wish you had said a different name when I asked who you were gushing over?”

A strange mixture of curiosity and hope filled your chest.

Curiosity as to who he thought you were talking about. Hope that maybe he thought it might’ve been him. 

“You could never be overbearing,” you assured, grabbing a small biscuit from the table and softening it up in your warm tea. “Would it be nosy of me to ask who you wished I was gushing over?”

Wriothesley grinned. “You are certainly nosy. But it’s one of the things I like about you.”

You laughed, wiping a crumb off your lip with a napkin. “Does that mean you won’t tell me?”

“Perhaps another day.”

In the distance, you heard Neuvillette clear his throat loudly. You looked over and saw him glaring straight at Wriothesley. They stayed like that for a while, having a silent conversation with their eyes. Whatever it was, it seemed intense. You were quite glad that glare wasn’t directed at you.

“I believe Wriothesley would like to share that information with you now,” Neuvillette announced after Wriothesley looked away with a sigh.

“Does he?”

“I do,” Wriothesley confirmed, the slightest bit begrudgingly. “Me.”

You waited for him to say more, but he didn’t elaborate. 

You blinked. “What about you?” 

“Are you going to make me say it?” Wriothesley let out a strangled laugh, grabbing a biscuit to munch on himself. “When I overheard you and Neuvillette talking about your crush, I was hoping it was about me.”

You blinked. “Why about you?” 

Neuvillette made a strange noise as a book fell off his desk. He cleared his throat. “Pardon me.”

You barely had time to wonder if he was okay before Wriothesley finally responded.

“You really don’t make things easy for me, isn’t that right, princess?” Wriothesley said with a helpless smile. “I hoped you were saying such sweet things about me, since I would say equally sweet things about you.”

With your stomach turning at both the pet name and his admission, you managed to say, “And if I were to tell you it really was about you?”

“That would make me a very happy man,” he said, unable to contain his delight. “Who wouldn’t be happy to hear the most beautiful and caring person they know is interested in them as well?”

You heard Neuvillette tap his foot impatiently in the background, but you ignored him. You and Wriothesley were having a moment here. 

“So, you’re saying you like me, too?” you asked, not wanting there to be any chance of a misunderstanding. The two of you made it this far, you couldn’t let it fall apart now.

“I like you very much,” said Wriothesley with a nod. “And I have something to take care of at the Fortress this week, but when we both have time next week, perhaps we can celebrate with a dinner. Without Neuvillette there.”

“Please, without me there,” Neuvillette chimed in, his arms folded as he sat in his chair.

You laughed, standing up and brushing the imaginary dust off your pajamas. “All right, I can take a hint, Neuvillette. I’ll help you clean up before I go. And Wriothesley…” 

“Hmm?”

You met his gaze and the corners of his eyes crinkled. You fought off a giggle as you returned Wriothesley’s smile, an overwhelming feeling of happiness filling you. “It’s a date.”

[prinvessdior]

Three times you ask Kinich for something and the one time he asks for something.

tags: first person soz, bff! Mualani, I forgot ab Ajaw lol, y/n has a vision, established relationship, first kiss, just cute as hell, ft. me trying to write romantic tension.

wc: 3.6k

a/n: idk,, i think he needs more fics but yes crossposted on ao3 still editing as well

feel free to leave me req or msgs for any charc <3!

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

I think this was the fifth time I had water up my nose this afternoon. Or maybe it was the sixth, definitely. My nose and throat burned as I gasped for air above the water. My surfboard flung up beside me with another slap of water to my face. I hoisted myself back up to sit over my borrowed board. Mualani let me borrow one of her old ones from childhood. Since I'd never been able to surf. I wrung out my hair over my shoulder. "This is so hard," I whined to Mualani who padded over on her own board over to me.

Mualani only laughed, laying down on her stomach, "You're doing fine for a beginner." I doubted it. "Keep practicing, maybe you could finally convince Kinich to come to swim." 

I snorted and rolled my eyes, "Yeah like that'll happen."  

Mualani giggled, "He's a lost cause. Maybe if you asked him nicely, he might change his mind," she teased, sending me a look with a knowing smile. 

"I don't think a simple 'please' will do the trick," I retorted, paddling my board backward in the shallows. "He'd probably just come up with some excuse like 'I don't want to get my clothes wet' or something, and then go back to what he was doing," I grumbled.

Mualani snickered. "He can be such a diva sometimes. It's like he's scared to have any fun. I don’t know how you can date a guy like that."

She was being dramatic. He wasn’t that bad. I’ve known practically everyone since I was a kid, I know the ins and outs. Kinich just.. more so liked to keep to himself. I didn’t mind it though it really seemed like we had just become really good friends now even after putting a relationship title on us. 

"Though I'm sure he'd do anything you asked," Mualani says with a nod

I quickly looked away.

"Don't be ridiculous," I mumbled, "Kinich doesn't listen to anyone, let alone me." I quickly looked away.

Mualani gave me a knowing smile. "Oh come on, don't pretend you haven't noticed the way he looks at you. That boy is absolutely smitten with you."

I tried to feign indifference, though my heart thumped in my chest. "He doesn't look at me any differently than he looks at everyone else."

Mualani raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious? He's practically drooling every time you're around. And he always insists on helping you with anything you need, no matter how menial."

I shifted uncomfortably in my waterlogged swimsuit. "That's just who he is. He's like that with everyone. He's just...a good guy." I don’t think I wanted to spill my guts with my best friend about my relationship just yet.

Mualani rolled her eyes. "You can be so clueless sometimes. Trust me on this."

I huffed, pushing my soaked hair out of my eyes. "Even if you're right, which you're not, I doubt he'd ever actually do anything about it. Kinich is too aloof to make a move."

Mualani smirked. "That's where I think you're wrong. I've seen the way he stares at you when you're not looking. That boy has it bad. If you ask me, he's just been waiting for the right moment.”

I narrowed my eyes with a laugh, "Sure, and dendro slimes will fly someday. Besides, I can't even imagine Kinich acting all romantic. He's too sarcastic and quippy for mushiness."

Mualani shrugged. "Maybe you should try giving him a hint then. See if he responds. I know he'd be all over you in a heartbeat if he thought he had a chance."

"I don't know, Mualani...he's always been so closed off. It wouldn’t feel natural."

Mualani grinned. "Well, you could always try being a bit more... flirtatious. Give him some nonverbal cues to let him know you're interested. A touch on the arm, a smile, a compliment, something like that. See how he responds."

"Yeah, nope," I said with a determined nod, I'd give up my pyro vision back to our archon before doing something as embarrassing as that.

“C'mon! What’s the harm in it?”

I gave Mualani a pointed look, “The harm is we’ve only been together three months.” 

Mualani groaned, “But you’ve been friends for years!” She emphasized by splashing me with water.

I splashed her back, “I don’t expect anything from Kinich, Lani, I’m fine with what we have now.” 

“Yeah, but, did you ask him that? Maybe he wants to be closer with you.” 

Okay, yeah maybe I hadn’t thought about that. I paused mid-splash attack. “Oh.” 

Another splash of water to my face, as I tipped sideways losing balance sitting on my surfboard. I tipped straight into the water making another splash for the seventh time. 

Mualani was laughing when I arose from the surface. “Just try it. It’s not like he’ll outright reject you.” 

I gave Mualani a glare, “I’m going to go change. I’m done learning today.” 

“Ouchie, you really know how to burn me.” Mualani sighs with a dramatic expression. 

“Insanity.” I mumbled padding back to the shore with my best friend trailing behind me. Still making dramatic plans about how to get my boyfriend to be more open. I was not listening as she rambled all the way back to my house. 

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

I liked living right beside the hot springs. Even the ones that weren’t heated were usually the ones I gravitated towards. Given that Natlan was already hot, I never remembered my normal body temperature being this hot before I received my Pyro vision. 

But right now, I think I was jealous of Cyro Vision users. Kachina had requested my help near her tribe. She wanted to collect flowers among herbs, and fruits for the traveler to help her gain enough confidence to enter into the night warden wars. 

But it was too hot, and I was craving a bath. Being drenched in sweat was horrible. I didn’t want to complain in front of Kachina so I continued to follow her, we’d strayed far from The Children of The Echo’s tribe. 

“Do you think this is enough?” I asked the smaller girl once we’d stopped near a stream. 

“Uh-! I-.. I think so!” Kachina reached her arms up to take the fruits nestled in my bag. I happily let her take it as I took a seat near the stream for a much-needed breather. 

“Great, I’m just gonna.. sit down for a while.” 

Kachina gave me a nod with a bright smile. Which in turn made me smile. I felt like a big sister whenever I was with Kachina. It made it better that she was so smart and easy to talk to. I closed my eyes as a gust of wind helped cool my sweltering face. 

Kachina sat down beside me, dipping her toes into the water. “Thank you for helping me today, I really appreciate it.”

I smiled, grateful for the respite. “Of course, Kachina. It’s the least I can do. The Traveler did so much for you.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, they really did. I wouldn’t have had the courage to join the Night Warden Wars without their support.”

We sat by the stream, the cool water lapping at my feet, and my mind drifted back to what Mualani had said the day before. Could it really be that simple? Just say please? I found myself lost in a whirlwind of emotions as the cool water of the stream rippled around me. 

“Y/n? Y/n!” Kachina’s voice broke through my reverie, pulling me back to the present.

”Huh.” I blinked, realizing she was talking to someone. I turned to see Kinich standing there, looking a bit awkward but smiling warmly. 

“Hey, Y/n,” he greeted, his voice a little uncertain. “Are you okay?”

I forced a smile, trying to shake off my embarrassment. “Oh, hey, Kinich. Yeah, I’m fine. Just, you know, dying of the heat,” I joked, fanning myself dramatically.

He chuckled, his eyes softening. “Yeah, it’s pretty brutal today.” He turned to me and narrowed his eyes. “Should you really be out here for much longer? You don’t look so good.”

Before I could respond, Kachina’s face fell, and she quickly apologized. “Oh no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you weren’t feeling well. I shouldn’t have taken you so far.”

I shook my head, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Kachina. I wanted to come out and help you. Really.”

She still looked worried, but I could see she was trying to believe me. I took a deep breath, deciding albeit hesitantly that if I were to test Mualani’s theory. Any time would be the best time “Kinich, could you please get me some water from the stream? I think it would help me cool down.”

To my surprise, he didn’t hesitate. Without a single sarcastic comment or playful tease, he nodded and walked over to the stream. The next thing I felt was the cool, wet rag on my forehead, and sighed in relief. Kinich's gentle touch was comforting as he helped me sit back down. My body was still cooling off from Natlan’s scorching heat.

"Thank you, Kinich," I said, looking up at him with a small smile.

He smiled back, though it was more a twitch of lips upwards, his eyes warm. "It was no problem at all. Just take it easy for a bit."

I nodded, leaning back into the grass. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kachina watching us. She seemed to be trying hard not to look awkward, and I couldn't help but find it endearing.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" Kachina asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.

"Yeah, I think so," I replied, giving her a reassuring smile. "Just a bit... overwhelmed, I guess."

Kachina nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. "You two are really cute together," she blurted out, then immediately looked like she regretted it.

Kinich chuckled softly, and I felt my own cheeks flush. "Thanks, Kachina," I said, trying to ease her embarrassment. 

She smiled, looking a bit more relaxed. "Well, if you need anything, I'm here to help."

"Thanks," I said, appreciating her kindness. "I think I'll be okay now."

Kinich gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Just rest for a bit. I'll be right here."

I nodded, feeling a little lightheaded. Not from the heat though. As I leaned back, feeling the coolness of the rag on my forehead, my mind wandered to Mualani’s words. Maybe she was right.

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

A couple of days later, I found myself in Xilonen’s shop, surrounded by shelves filled with various trinkets and artifacts. The air was filled with the scent of herbs and old parchment, a comforting reminder of the past. Xilonen and I were busy organizing her shop, a task that felt both familiar and soothing.

“Thanks for helping out, Y/n,” Xilonen said, her voice warm. “I’ve been meaning to get this place in order for ages.”

“No problem,” I replied, placing a stack of scrolls on a nearby shelf. “It’s nice to catch up. We haven’t had much time together since the war ended.”

She nodded a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Yeah, things have been so hectic. But it’s good to see you. How have you been holding up?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my tone light. “I’ve been okay. Just trying to figure things out, you know?”

Xilonen smiled knowingly. “I get it. It’s been a strange time for all of us. But I’m glad you’re here. It feels like old times.”

We continued to work in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythm of our movements almost meditative. As we sorted through a box of ancient artifacts, Xilonen suddenly looked up, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, I heard a little rumor that you and Kinich are dating now. Is it true?” Probably from Mualani...

I felt my face heat up slightly but nodded. “Yeah, it’s true.”

Xilonen grinned. “I knew it! How’s that going? I mean, considering how Kinich… is.”

I chuckled, understanding what she meant. “It’s going fine, actually. He’s been really sweet and supportive. It’s still new, but we’re figuring it out.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “That’s good to hear. Kinich can be ahh.. how do I put this? Blunt? but he has a good heart.”

“Yeah, he does,” I agreed, feeling a warm glow at the thought of him. “He’s been really great.”

we continued to clean, the door to the shop opened, and Kinich walked in. His eyes immediately found mine, and he smiled warmly Again, just the hint of his lips turning at the corners. “Hey, Y/n,” he greeted, then turned to Xilonen. “Xilonen.”

“Hey, Kinich,” I replied, feeling a flutter of happiness at seeing him.

Xilonen gave him a playful look. “Didn’t expect to see Y/n here, huh?”

Kinich chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, I was a bit surprised. What’s going on?”

Xilonen rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, so I can’t see my friend for a day? I asked Y/n to help me clean up since it’s been a while.”

Kinich nodded, looking a bit awkward. “Right, of course. Well, it’s good you both are here. I actually came by to let you know that someone from The Children of the Echos commissioned me for a project, so I don’t have much time to chat.”

“That’s great, What kind of project?” genuinely wanting to know

He shrugged, a small smile on his face. “It’s a bit of a mystery for now, but I’ll fill you in later.”

Xilonen smirked. “Always keeping secrets, huh?”

Kinich laughed. “Something like that. Anyway, I just wanted to say hi. I’ll catch up with you both later.”

It was the perfect time to test Mualani's theory further. I spotted an item on a high shelf that I couldn't reach and decided to ask Kinich for help.

"Kinich, could you please help me get that down?" I called out, pointing to a random scroll.

He stopped talking to Xilonen almost instantly and came up behind me. "Sure, what do you need?" he asked, his voice so, so close to my ear.

I pointed at the scroll again. "That one, right up there."

Without hesitation, Kinich reached over my head and grabbed it, his arm brushing against mine. He handed it to me with a smile. "Here you go."

"Thanks," I said, feeling a bit flustered by how quickly he had responded.

"No problem," he replied. "I have to go now, but I'll see you later." He turned to Xilonen and me, giving us both a quick nod. "Goodbye, Xilonen. Bye, Y/n."

"Bye, Kinich," we both said in unison as he left the shop.

As the door closed behind him, Xilonen turned to me with a curious look. "What was that? I've never seen Kinich act like that before."

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I don't know. Maybe he's just being extra helpful today."

Xilonen raised an eyebrow. "Extra helpful, huh? Well, whatever it is, it's definitely interesting."

I smiled,  Maybe Mualani was onto something after all.

“I should get going too,” I said, giving Xilonen a hug. “Thanks for today. It was really nice to catch up.”

"Oh yeah totally! I can handle the rest here. Also, come by anytime,” she replied, hugging me back. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I won’t,” I promised, smiling as I headed out the door.

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

I found myself back at Mualani’s place, surfboard in hand and ready for another lesson. Mualani was determined to teach me how to surf, and I was equally determined to make her proud, even if it meant a few more wipeouts.

“Hey, ‘Lani!” I greeted her, adjusting my swimsuit as I approached. “Ready for another round?”

Mualani grinned, her eyes always sparkling with excitement. “Always! But first, tell me have you been messing with Kinich? He’s been super quiet. More than usual.”

I laughed, setting my surfboard down. “Really? That’s funny. I’ve been testing your theory. It’s been interesting, to say the least. I really don’t think he’s reacting. He’s doing things any normal boyfriend would do.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “You absolutely need to keep it up. Yesterday he looked like he was going to explode.”

I snorted a laugh Mualani clapped her hands together. “Alright, enough talk. Let’s hit the waves!”We headed down to the beach, the sound of the ocean filling the air.

As we paddled out, Mualani and I chatted about everything and nothing, enjoying the easy flow of conversation. Suddenly, someone from the tribe called out to Mualani, needing her assistance with something urgent.

Mualani sighed, giving me an apologetic look. “Duty calls. Just focus on balancing on the board for now, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Got it!” I called, watching as she paddled back to the shore.

Left to my own devices, I paddled out to the shallow part of the water. I stood up on the board, feeling the gentle sway of the ocean beneath me. Balancing was tricky, but I was determined to get the hang of it. I took a deep breath, focusing on keeping my stance steady.

The sun was warm on my skin, and the sound of the waves was soothing.

My balance wavered, and I tumbled into the water with a splash. As I surfaced, sputtering and wiping the saltwater from my eyes, I heard a familiar voice.

"Having trouble there?" Kinich asked, a teasing smile on his face.

I felt my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Maybe just a little," I admitted, trying to laugh it off.

He chuckled, wading over to me. "Here, let me help you." He reached out, steadying me as I stood up in the water. His hands were firm but gentle, and I felt a bit more stable with his support.

"Thanks," I mumbled reeling from the taste of saltwater, feeling self-consciousness.

"No problem," he replied, still holding my surfboard, "Everyone falls sometimes. It's part of the learning process."

I nodded, appreciating his encouragement. "Yeah, I guess so."

He handed me the board, his eyes warm with amusement. "Just keep at it. You'll get the hang of it."

The sun glinted off the water as I turned towards Kinich, curiosity, and anxiety bubbling with the ripples of the water.

“Kinich,” I called out, voice catching the wind.

“Would you help me with this, please? I mean, with keeping my balance on the board?”

His gaze softened, and without a word, he nodded. With practiced ease, he dropped the surfboard into the water, and it settled with a small splash. Approaching me, he placed his hands gently around my waist, lifting me as if I weighed nothing.

My heart beat wildly, like drums against my chest—not just from the thrill, but from the intimate touch. Kinich’s hands lingered longer than necessary as he steadied me on the board, fingers warm against her skin through the thin fabric of my swimsuit. His grip was firm, yet tender, as though he was acutely aware of his strength and its effect.

“This good?” he asked, voice low, almost a whisper. It sent shivers down my spine, as I nodded, unable to find my voice. So instead I nodded, slowly.

Once Kinich was convinced Ihad found my balance, he slowly let go. For a few moments, I managed to stay upright, it was my triumph. But the waves had other plans. The board wobbled violently beneath my feet, and with a startled yelp, I lost my footing. In the blink of an eye, I grabbed onto Kinich, pulling him down with me. We both plunged into the cool embrace of the ocean. Breaking the surface, I wiped the water from my eyes, only to be met with the sight of a thoroughly drenched and disheveled Kinich. My initial shock dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

“I am so sorry!” I gasped between laughs, noticing the way his usually calm demeanor was replaced with a mixture of surprise a cute scowl. “You look... upset.”

Kinich’s expression softened, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. “Upset with you? Never.”

His eyes held mine, a glint of mischief playing in their sunsets. “Actually,” he continued, his voice low and sincere, “since you’ve been asking so politely, I thought I might as well ask the same... Can I please kiss you?”

Time seemed to pause as his words settled over. The world faded around us, leaving just the two of us in that perfect, sunlit moment. I barely managed a nod.

Kinich's lips met mine with a tenderness that took my breath away. The kiss was soft, almost hesitant as if he was savoring the moment, afraid it might slip away too soon. His hands, still resting on my hips, tightened slightly, pulling closer but never forcefully. 

I felt the warmth of his touch through the cool water, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on my revealed skin. The world around us seemed to fade, leaving only the sensation of his lips on mine and the steady rhythm of our breaths mingling. 

As the kiss deepened, Kinich's hand moved to cradle my face, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheekbone. It was a gesture of pure affection, a silent promise of his care and respect. I responded in kind, my own hands finding their way to his shoulders, feeling the strength and warmth beneath my fingertips.

When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine, heavy breaths mingling in the space between us. Kinich's eyes searched mine, a soft smile playing on his lips. Before he frowned.

"Now please stop saying please," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. "I can't take it anymore."

[ellecdc]

A Man With a Plan.8

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: Remus losing his ever loving mind, temporary(?) truce w/ Slytherins, truth is revealed, Peter is very nervous when the discussion turns to plotting murder [3.2k words]

✧A/N - please read ✧ this fic is still and will remain on hiatus until it's completion. I will not respond to asks about when the next update will be (feel free to gush and discuss, just please don't ask for updates). this fic, for whatever reason, is a sore spot for me & if I didn't have people who loved it so much, I'd have trashed it by now, so please take this into consideration. secondly, the taglist is closed and I will no longer be tagging anyone on future updates - kudos to all of the creators who take the time to offer tag lists because it is not easy and I will never be doing it for another fic again lol

Remus had been trying (and failing) to pay attention to the lesson, but apparently watching the odd bird fly past the window was far more entertaining than listening to Professor Binns’ sluggish lesson about the Goblin rebellions.

Yesterday’s conversation with you was still replaying at the forefront of his mind; most of Remus’ thoughts were already about you, mind you, but this had become an incessant point of worry for him. He found that he was particularly bothered by how bothered you appeared to be.

Remus was the first to admit his friends weren’t always the…easiest to be around. They were loud, abrasive, brash, somewhat aggressive, and always up to something.

He should have been more patient with you and your friends; as much as Moony called you his; you were your own first. 

You always had to come first.

Moony huffed in response to that but seemed to relent when Remus insisted the utmost importance was your happiness and safety.

Even the werewolf couldn’t argue with that.

He could tell you were still bothered today; he could feel it, in the rise of your heart rate intermittently throughout the morning, or the white hot heat that would settle in his (your) chest before evening out just as quickly. He had learned by now that you were quite attuned with your own feelings, and seemed to control them very well. Remus found himself quite jealous of that trait. It was clear how deeply you were attuned to emotions, both yours and others, and the way that tended to influence your behaviours.

You seemed to be content right now, and Remus found himself wondering where on the castle grounds you might be right now.

Gods, he was such a freak.

Want. Mine? Where mine?  

He fought the urge to groan at Moony as he returned his gaze to the front of the class.

It appeared that Remus wasn't the only one with a lack of interest in Binns’ wearisome lesson as most of his classmates were beyond even pretending to pay attention; a few even drooling on their textbooks and letting out the odd snore.

It didn’t appear to bother Binns much who continued drilling on about the role goblin metal played in the rebellions.

Remus wondered if the professor had ever put himself to sleep during one of his lectures. He let out a small snort at that.

Before he could be concerned about whether anyone heard him or not, Remus felt an abrupt tension wash through him. No, not him. You. 

You were beyond tense, a tight kind of worry worming its way through your core. 

Not good. Not good. Not good. 

Though Remus didn’t find himself in a position to argue with Moony, he didn’t find the commentary particularly helpful. But for the first time since the soulbond came into effect, Moony quieted completely - almost as if he was allowing Remus to fully lock in on you. 

Shock - horror? You’d been startled… a painful surprise. Why couldn’t Remus think of the bloody word for the way you were feeling?

It quickly moved to heartbreak; it was as if Remus could feel himself sinking to the ground along with your heart.

Where the hell were you right now?

The heavy, sinking pain settled in Remus’ stomach whilst the sounds of Professor Binns and the surrounding student’s snores fell away into a quiet hum; Remus simply ceased to exist in the physical world as his consciousness went looking for you. 

Disappointment and guilt is what you seemed to settle on; a decisive determination forming in your mind. 

Then your heart spiked.

Worry?

Pain? 

Panic???

Remus had little time to acknowledge his realisation before an ice cold terror overtook you.

He could feel the violent rattle of your heart in your chest as your lungs started to burn; it was as if he could hear you screaming. 

And Moony went feral. 

NOW. NOW. NOWNOWNOWNOWNOWNOWNOW NOW. 

Remus hardly even realised that he had shot up until the chair fell to the ground with a loud thunk, likely startling the many napping students out of their slumber but he found that he just didn’t care about the disturbance he made as he took off in a full sprint out of the History classroom. 

He took the stairs two at a time in what felt like an arbitrary direction; he couldn’t tell you even if he tried where his feet were taking him, all his mind was concerned with was getting to you.

Remus had no idea where you were, but he'd find you.

If he didn’t know something was terribly wrong before, he certainly knew it now when your panic turned into a frantic desperation; cold, so cold was the terror that seeped down into your very soul. He was certain your magic was calling out to him, even as your core began to weaken. 

I’m coming, dove. I’m coming. Remus chanted as Moony howled in agreement. 

Remus’ own lungs burned nearly as badly as his legs did but he didn’t slow down, even when he shoved past a group of first years as he tore through the courtyard. He’d be sorry later; right now he had somewhere to get to, someone to get to.

Remus was just beginning to regret not taking up James’ offers to go for runs with him in the mornings when he felt a sharp relieved feeling - it was not relief, but a relieved moment - before shock and horror took over.

Your heart rate was a riot and you were distressed but Remus was sure he could feel you breathing and it was enough, it had to be enough until he got to you. 

He had to get to you. 

“Remus!” James shouted in a manner that told Remus it hadn’t been the first time he did so. 

Remus simply turned to look at him over his shoulder without slowing down.

“Mate! What the hell?!”

“Something is wrong.” Remus shouted.

“Yeah, you’ve bloody lost the plot it seems - I’d say that’s very wrong!” James replied breathlessly. 

Remus was going to tell him to sod off when relief came in the sight of you, though the relief was tentative when he noticed you soaking and hunched in on yourself in the sand. 

“Y/N!” He shouted then; you didn’t react, which only resulted in him panicking more.

“Y/N!” He shouted again as he made it to you; sinking to his knees in the wet sand as his chest burned. “Dovey, hey. Hey, look at me. Are you okay? Baby please, look at me.”

He finally brought a hand to your chin and tilted your head up to him; your skin was horridly cold and eyes were wild as your own chest heaved like you, too, had just run all this way.

“What happened, dove? Are- are you okay? What happened?” He was practically begging at this point but he couldn’t bring himself to care, even as James made his way over to stand behind you. 

“What’s going on?” James asked quietly; Remus could only shake his head at him.

“You’re soaked. Did you fall in?” He tried asking you; you simply looked towards the water in response. 

James quickly shed his jumper and handed it to Remus who wrapped it around you before he shed his own cardigan to wrap that around you as well. 

“Please baby, talk to me?” Remus begged. Your lip trembled and you pointed your gaze to your lap. 

He felt completely helpless; he had this deep desire - no, need - to help you, to protect you. He wanted to know what happened so he could fix this; he wanted to fix this.

But this wasn’t about what Remus wanted, it was about what you needed… what you deserved. 

“Prongs?” Remus said quietly as he simply settled into the wet sand beside you, pulling you into his lap and cocooning you with his body to provide you with some of his warmth. “Can you go get Junior? Please?”

James quickly looked between the two of you before nodding and running back towards the castle. 

·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·

Remus had been unable to encourage any more from you than a few shuddering breaths and a squeeze of your hand that he was holding hostage in his.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to let you go again.

Unfortunately, this appeared to be one more of his many plans destined for failure.

“Treasure!?” Barty called as he and James ran over. “Hey! Tres, you okay?” He breathed as he knelt in front of you and Remus, much like Remus had when he found you mere moments ago. 

“Talk to me.” Barty whispered as he pushed your damp hair away from your face.

You let out a short breath that had you deflating significantly, as if you’d been sitting with every string in your body pulled taut until Barty had shown up. 

It hurt, for a moment, knowing you weren’t Remus’ person - or rather, that he wasn’t yours - but he bit back the emotion flooding in his mouth because it still wasn’t about what Remus wanted, it was about what you needed.

And right now, you needed Barty.

Your chin dimpled as your bottom lip began to wobble and Remus watched as your eyes filled with tears. 

“What happened?” Barty begged through a whisper, and that seemed to be the last of your resolve.

Remus was forced to relinquish his hold on you as you dissolved into tears and fell bodily into Barty’s embrace; he seemed to be expecting it though and caught you readily in a way Remus wondered if he’d ever be capable of.

Unable to explain your hurt to Barty, you simply sobbed and clung to him as he looked at Remus in horrified bemusement.

Remus could only shrug his shoulders and shake his head remorsefully. 

“Okay, you’re alright Treasure. We’ll figure this out, yeah? We’ve always figured it out; you and me, okay?” 

Remus immediately felt like he was encroaching on something entirely too private and stood; bitterness, grief, and worry twisting up an emotional cocktail that he knew would taste horrid on the way down.

“Lupin.” Barty called out, forcing Remus to pause as he made his way towards James. “Thank you, for fetching me.”

Remus simply nodded before turning back for the castle. 

“I’ll-” Barty called again before pausing, waiting for Remus to turn around once more. “I’ll let you know how we make out.”

Remus nodded and let out a breath. “Thank you.”

The two boys shared a knowing look before Remus turned, joining James as they headed back towards the castle - no doubt facing a detention or two for causing a scene and abandoning class - in silence. 

Remus learnt little else about what happened at the lake until dinner when Regulus approached them with the small amount of information Barty had managed to get from you.

“She said she fell in?” James asked quizzically then.

Regulus tilted his head side to side in a so-so. “It was less that she said it and more that she agreed with Barty that that’s what happened. Why?”

James shook his head as if jostling around the thoughts in his brain would make it make more sense. “She’s been going to that dock for months to feed the mermaids, I-”

“She wasn’t feeding them.” Remus interjected quickly. “She was bringing them gifts.”

Remus looked up from his novel to see his friends and Regulus staring at him incredulously.

“Right…” James continued after a beat. “So, she’s been going to that dock for months to bring gifts to the mermaids, and she’s never once had an issue. Why now?” 

Regulus heaved a sigh as he shrugged his shoulders defeatedly. “We’ve not been able to get much more out of her; she just keeps saying she needs to ‘fix things’.”

“What things?” James asked then, causing the younger Black brother to sneer at him. 

“I just said we haven’t been able to get more out of her, Potter. Merlin; tu t’entoures d’idiots, frère.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius moaned in exasperation. “Thank you, Reg.”

“Thank you.” Remus seconded, earning him a nod of understanding from the younger Black.

Remus returned to his novel, though he found himself unable to make sense of any of the words. James was right; something just didn’t make sense.

Just yesterday you had laughed at Remus for his concern for you on the dock 

… Remus quickly stood and gently helped you stand and pulled you closer to the middle of the dock, away from the edge you’d been inhabiting.

You giggled at him; the first real spontaneous emotion he thinks he had ever heard from you, and it caused Remus’ heart rate to speed up double time.

“You needn’t worry, Remus.” You expressed solemnly. “I’m very careful.”  …

And James seemed to know that to be true as well.

What weren’t you telling them? And what did you need to fix?

It wasn’t until later that evening that Remus came to realise what it was that you weren’t telling them. 

“Remus! Is she okay!?” He heard Amelia call breathlessly as she approached him in the library.

Remus was momentarily confused; he hadn’t spoken to Amelia in what felt like weeks, and he couldn’t imagine who she was possibly referring to.

“Pardon?” He asked dumbly.

“Y/N.” Amelia answered quickly; a deep divot present between her brows. “I just heard what happened; I swear I had no idea what they were doing, Rem. I would have never allowed it!”

Remus quickly slammed his History tome closed and stood over her menacingly. 

“Allowed what?” He sneered at her. “Who are ‘they’ and what exactly did ‘they’ do to her?”

Amelia seemed to baulk at the sudden severity of Remus, but she soldiered on. “I.. it was Silas, Shirley, and Coraline. They- I guess they figured, well-”

“Spit it out, Amelia.” Remus hissed at her.

“They think they were like, defending me, or something… by picking on her. I guess they tried to tell her to back off from you, and Silas said he shoved her in the Lake.”

Bad. Bad, bad, bad. Kill.

And while Remus knew, generally speaking, that he couldn’t kill a bunch of Hufflepuffs, he didn’t exactly disagree with the enraged and murderous Wolf howling inside of him.

“Is she okay?” Amelia asked again, quieter this time.

Remus felt bad when he noticed her cowering slightly beneath him; he felt bad about all of it.

Leading her on, playing with her feelings when he knew she liked him as more than a friend, and for ever getting you tangled up in this mess of his. 

He planned to never let it happen again.

“I’m not sure, Amelia.” He admitted then, realising somewhat belatedly that he had been simply waiting on you to come to him instead of actively working to help you fix this. “But she will be; I’ll make sure of it.”

Amelia offered him a sad smile at that. “Okay…thank you, Remus.”

“I’m sorry, Amelia.” He blurted then, watching as her sad smile turned soft.

“Thank you, Remus. Tell Y/N I’m sorry, too, okay?” 

And Remus watched Amelia walk away as he formulated a plan. 

James was easy to find, seeing as he was currently hanging on to every word coming out of Lily Evan’s mouth as she practised her presentation for the upcoming Herbology assignment.

“Hey, Rem.” Lily greeted with a smile as she shuffled through her cue cards, causing James to turn comically in his place on the couch where he’d been sitting with his elbows on his knees and his chin on fists.

“‘Lo Moons!” 

“Prongs, I’m sorry, but are you terribly busy right now?” Remus immediately felt bad for asking when James grimaced and turned to look at Lily. “It’s Y/N.” He clarified.

James immediately turned back towards him. “Is she okay?” 

Remus shrugged his shoulders. “But I know what happened.”

James’ face turned solemn as he turned to give Lily an apologetic smile.

She quickly smiled tenderly at him and waved him off. “Go, Potter. Make sure she’s okay for me, yeah?” 

James beamed at her before jumping up and planting a smacking kiss on the red-head’s cheek. “You were doing brilliantly, Lils! I’ll help you practise more later!”

“That seemed cosy.” Remus murmured as they stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind them. 

“It certainly felt cosy.” James agreed readily.

With the map that James had on his person, finding Sirius was an easy feat - what was not an easy feat was opening the broom closet door to find him and a Ravenclaw in various states of undress with their tongues down each other’s throats.

“Sorry, sweets.” Sirius winked at the other student as he pulled up his fly. “Duty calls.”

They found Pete in Chess Club and pulled him away from the game he was currently “winning, you absolute sods!” by the collar of his uniform shirt. 

And with the full moon a little bit more than 24 hours away, even Moony couldn’t deny the advantage they’d have with a little more help…

“It says he’s in the library.” Peter explained as he trailed behind the group with the map.

“Where’s my- where’s Y/N?” Remus quickly corrected himself.

Peter hummed as he searched the map whilst Sirius and James shared a knowing look behind Remus’ back. “Says she’s in Ravenclaw.”

Good, that was good.

You were fine. Safe.

And Remus knew that just had to be true, because Barty wouldn’t have agreed to leave your side otherwise. 

Back where Remus had begun this search, they did indeed find Barty hunched over a large looking tome at a table as Regulus, Dorcas, and Evan conversed quietly beside him. 

“Unless you’re here to learn the art of the Mermish language, bugger off.” Barty muttered without raising his head as Evan and Dorcas eyed the Marauders warily. 

“Relax, Meadows.” Sirius taunted. “We’re not here to prank you lot.”

“Forgive me if I don’t particularly believe you.” She muttered in response, narrowing her eyes at the boy. 

“To what do we owe this displeasure?” Evan drawled as he twirled his want in his hand.

“Play nice, Rosier.” Regulus muttered; obviously not particularly grateful for the Gryffindors’ company but clearly understanding there was  a reason for it.

“What, did you just say you were learning Mermish?” James asked Barty then; never one to manage to stay on task. 

Barty did look up at that only to look at James in bemusement. “Yes?”

“Why?” James continued, causing Barty to scoff.

“To thank them for saving Treasure, obviously. Do keep up, Potter.”

A disbelieving breath escaped Remus’ lips as he scrutinised your oldest friend. “That’s…actually really nice of you, Junior.” He admitted quietly, causing Barty’s bemused gaze to flit to him.

“Well yeah…I’m a real sweetie pie.” Barty muttered as if that had been really quite obvious and didn’t know why they were all talking about it, suddenly. 

“Listen, I found out what happened to Y/N.” Remus announced then; every Slytherin quickly standing at attention for Remus to explain. 

“They shoved her in?” Regulus confirmed slowly, earning him a nod in agreement from Remus.

“Well boys,” Barty started as he stood with a flourish, pausing at Dorcas’ pointed ‘ahem’ to amend “and Meadows, fuck’s sake”, “looks like we’ve got some Hufflepuff’s to kill!” He cheered gleefully, moving towards the library doors as if expecting everyone to follow him.

“We’re…we’re not going to actually kill them, right guys?” Peter asked nervously as the Slytherin’s rose from their respective seats, and the Gryffindor’s trailed after them.

“Right!?”

Tag list [NOW CLOSED] part 1:

@hanniejji , @y0urm0m12 , @c0nsc10usworld , @aphrcdites , @starsval , @anuncalledbridge , @klazina-couch-potato , @cancelledkaley , @ttulipwritezz , @boo8008 , @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo , @frostooo , @myriadmoons , @aremuslupinsimp , @simars3 , @stargurl99 , @dreamingofts18 , @agent-tempest , @xxrougefangxx , @serenadingtigers , @adhxmoony , @hufflepufffangirlqueen , @thebiggestnaturaldisaster , @urmomw4ntsme , @b4tm4nn , @jamieolivia27 , @stqrgirlies-blog , @loving-and-dreaming , @cultish-corner , @all-in-the-fandoms , @sadslasher13 , @enamoredwithbella

[yan-lorkai]

ooh could you do something similar to your octa-trio with darling interested in marine bio but instead it’s darling interested in zoology with savanaclaw?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: This is feeding into my obsession of learning random things so well, I've been binge reading everything about hyenas and lions these past few days lol. I hope you like it, darling!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ "Leona, is it true that lions have a roar that can echo for eight kilometers? And that lions can't purr? And that female lions are the main hunters?" Question after question. Leona feels a growing headache, but also an urge to laugh. They're all such basic and silly questions, yet he's happy to know that you want to know more about lions, more about him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ His tail is wagging and his ears are twitching but if you point this out, he'll stop answering you and is going to pretend that nothing happened. For each question answered, you have to do something for him; usually Leona asks that you join him for a nap in his room or that you talk about your day, as he likes your voice and finds it relaxing to hear.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A lion's pride is his mate. So Leona holds you close so you can't escape from him to go around Savanaclaw asking other beastmen about their features and habits.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ "Ruggie, it's true that hyenas can purr? Can you purr for me, please?" You ask, softly, shiny eyes looking into his as you wait for something, anything. A sparkle of pink rush to his cheek as he laughed a little. "Oh! And it's true that the 'laugh' is actually a vocalization used to communicate excitement, fear, or submission? And that up to 80 hyenas can live in the same pride?"

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Oh goodness, you are feeding a little into his ego wanting to know all sort of things about hyenas now. He can't give the answer you want for free though, you have to give him a little incentive, maybe a few kisses, maybe food or you can try helping him on his errands and scratch his ears for him, either way, give your best shot as he is rooting for you. If he feels satisfied enough you will have your answers, otherwise, you can try again tomorrow.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He like this, having you cling to his arm, asking him things, it's cute. As a hyena, he's used to be throw around, to sacrifice and give freely to feed the kids in the slums and work harder than most. He feels a little greedy and he doesn't hide it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ "Jack, I have a few questions... How do wolves choose their leader? Is it true that wolves have an incredibly powerful bite force, capable of exerting up to 1,500 pounds per square inch?" You squint at him, right now, in his human form, Jack didn't seem capable of such things, even more with a mandible like that. His ears twitched a little, he was probably trying to think about how to respond to you, already knowing how you went to his upperclassmen with the same kind of questions. "By the way, wolves have a wide range of vocalizations to communicate, right? And they are also great at adapting to another habitat?"

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Jack stares at you like a little dog, his tail wagging while a blush comes over to his face. He answers your questions to the best of his abilities, taking his time, so you spend more of your free time by his side. Your interest in wolves, in him more specifically, ignites a flame of interest inside him, maybe he really do have a chance with you and he'll do anything to get you to fall in love with him. For now, Jack indulges in your curiosity, he let you get close to him before trapping in his maws.

[aviiarie]

Hiiiii, if you don't mind, can I please ask for something romantic with Blade in a soulmates au? Being his soulmate seems like such a doomed concept, lol

“𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄.” — feat. blade.

synopsis. you are blade's soulmate. and you pay the price for it, over and over again.

✦ contents. tw: slightly graphic blood & violence, and a lot of death. soulmates au. gn!reader. angst, no comfort. slightly open-ended. 1.8k words.

✦ notes. requested by anon for my event! i saw the words 'soulmates' and 'doomed' and didn't think twice. um this kind of ends on a cliff-hanger? or unsatisfyingly at least. that was intentional btw. idk how happy i am with how it turned out though.

The day Blade met you for the very first time, was the day you bled out in his arms. 

You were a stranger; a forgettable face, amidst a sea of even more forgettable faces. There was no reason for him to care when he heard your scream, cutting across the battlefield like a siren. The sound melted into the clamour of scraping metal and wounded cries, as easily as a single note of a flute disappears within a symphony.

And yet, it made him pause. 

His own sword was slick with blood, having already carved a gruesome path across the battlefield. There were bodies at his feet–some still wheezing out their final breaths, others already gone–but it was you who caught his attention. The cry was harrowing, rendering every other noise forgotten.

The haze in his vision began to clear, the mara loosened its hold, and for the first time in a while he felt something odd: clarity.

A strange, prickly sensation settled a layer beneath his skin, urging him to go, find them, help them, help them, help them. It was as if his limbs were tied with puppet strings, forcing him into a run towards the source of the scream. All around him, the fighting continued, but no one paid him any mind as he tore through the battle.

He found you on the other side of the field, lying on the grass with a closed fist pressed to your side. An arc of red dripped from your fingers to the ground, forming a sickly puddle under your shredded armour. As he fell to his knees by your side, compelled by something he couldn’t properly describe if he tried, you looked up and met his eye, mouth falling open.

“Oh…” You murmured, gazing at him like he was an angel. “Oh… oh, I didn’t know… it’s you.”

Blade’s throat tightened, as he glanced between your watery eyes and the wound you were holding. He didn’t understand it; he was a witness to death more times than he could count, the source of it in many instances. There was no reason for your death to be any different, so why did he feel like he was going to throw up?

“It’s you, isn’t it?” You choked up, tears welling in your eyes. The sight made him sick. “Soulmate?”

Soulmate. A foreign concept, but one he was acquainted with. It was intertwined with Destiny itself, written into the scripts that ‘he’ pored over so obsessively.

“Soulmate?” He croaked out. You smiled weakly, reaching out your free hand to touch his cheek.

“Soulmate,” You agreed, moving to rest your palm on his chest, right over the spot where his heart was pounding. “You feel it too, don’t you? The… the feeling pulling us together?”

He did. All of the puppet strings–destiny, fate, or whatever they were to be called–were pulling him towards you. Blade nodded stiffly, and you breathed out a wheezing laugh.

“S-So that’s it, then…” You sighed, releasing your hold on your wound and letting your arms fall loose like a ragdoll. Without your fist blocking his view, Blade could see just how bad the injury was. “I’ve always wanted to meet you. I was scared I was going to die before I did. But… I guess this is fine…”

“No…” Blade murmured, every sense in his body screaming at him to save them, help them, soulmate, soulmate, soulmate. “No… you can’t die. Not when I’ve just met you.”

It’s a laugh that you responded with, but the sound was bittersweet. “I don’t think I have a choice.” 

“No!” Blade’s voice was desperate. “No, no. There has to be another way.”

“Meet me again, okay? In the next life…” You coughed weakly, blood dribbling down the corner of lips and down your chin. Blade gently wipes away the streak of red, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “B-Buy me flowers… take me out for dinner... and we’ll try again.”

“No…” Blade mumbled. He tugged you into his arms, so you were practically splayed out across his lap. Another cough worked its way past your lips, and he pulled you even closer. “Please…”

“Next time…” You breathed out. Your chest rose and fell with every breath stuttered out, slowly and weakening, until it stopped altogether. 

—

When Blade meets you again, you are not a soldier. Your face has changed, as well your hairstyle and attire, but the insistent tug in his chest is the exact same feeling he felt all those years ago. Even in a crowded town square, on a planet he couldn’t remember the name of, the outline of your soul glows in his mind, shining like a beacon.

He stops in his tracks, scanning the shops and stalls on either side to find some trace of the soul he sensed. You were so close, he could practically reach out and grasp your hand, and yet he couldn’t quite pinpoint where.

There.

He broke into a run, his mission left far behind as he followed his instincts. They pulled him through the crowd, by shopkeepers and civilians that grumbled as he pushed past, leading to a cozy flower stand at the end of the street.

You look up at his approach, almost dropping the flowers in your hands. Your mouth is agape, and your eyes are teary, but there is familiarity staring back at him.

“Oh, it’s you. I was wondering when I would meet you,” You laugh, and Blade’s heart soars.

It’s a blur, the conversation that follows. He learns your name, and he learns you are nothing more than a merchant selling flowers. Quietly, he is grateful for the humble life you seemed to be leading. It was nothing like your previous self, in all your bloodstained, armour-clothed glory, and he couldn’t be more thankful.

“Tell me about yourself, though.” You finally pause your rambling, smiling with flushed cheeks. “I’ve talked about myself enough. What about you?”

“I…” Blade trails off, considering what he could say. His life was one that was long and wrought with destruction, and you were a perfectly unblemished flower, whose petals would crumple under his touch. Seeking you out was selfish enough, letting you carve his place in your life would only taint it.  

“I am unimportant. You’d best not be concerned about who I am.” Blade says simply, moving slightly away, so you were out of his reach. “I need to leave.”

You frown, stepping closer. “That’s not fair. Don’t I get to know your name, at least? Soulmate?”

“You may call me Blade,” He says, without any more explanation. “I must be going.”

“W-Wait!” You call out, breaking out of your stupor to catch his sleeve. As he turns, you press a delicate white lily into his hands. “Take this. When it wilts… find me again, and I’ll give you a new one.”

Blade stares at the flower, running a thumb down the stem and over the soft petals. It is dainty, fragile. In his hands, it would only be ruined.

And yet, he tucks it into his sleeve anyway.

You smile at him as he leaves, something sad in your eyes that he doesn’t have the heart to unravel. As he turns his back, he can still feel your gaze on his retreating form, watching as he disappears into the street.

It ends, predictably.

He is a half-second too late, feeling the drop in his stomach a moment before he sees your body fall to the ground. He lunges forward, falling by your side. The assailant–masked, armed, and a damn coward–is already running. 

“No,” He mutters. There are hot, angry tears in his eyes, threatening to spill over. It was only a week after he saw you for the first time, but he’d been keeping his distance, hoping if he stayed far enough away he could spare you from misfortune. But fate is cruel, and it tips back its head and laughs as he crumples over your body.

A part of him is screaming to run after your attacker, to spill his organs all over the pretty paved streets, just as he has spilled your blood over them, but the idea of leaving your side hurts. 

“Stay with me,” He begs, holding onto your wound, as if there was any way to staunch the bleeding. It was no use, the blade had pierced your chest too precisely. If you weren’t already gone, you would be soon.

You shakily clasp your hand around his wrist, mumbling out a few words. “See you–See you next time, Blade.”

—

It carries on in a similar manner, for the next few centuries. Every lifetime Blade finds you (he stops counting, after a while), and it ends the same way. After a while, all of the lifetimes blur together, until he can barely tell which is which.

In some, you are a warrior as violent as himself. In others, you are an artist. In some, he finds you, and in others, you find him. The only common thread, the one thing that connects every one, is your inevitable demise.

He stops trying to seek you out. When he feels the tug on his chest, he ignores his instincts and walks the other way, hoping to let the memory of you fade, so you may live your lives parallel to each other; close, but never meeting. Somehow, you manage to find him every time anyway, and before he knows it, his vow to keep his distance is tossed aside.

This time though, he doesn’t even get a chance to meet you. 

He feels you again–the phantom pull, the burning in his soul–and all thoughts of his mission are forgotten. The feeling of his sword is heavy in his hands, but it is nothing compared to the sinking in his chest.

Something was wrong.

This time, he doesn’t wait. He does not pause, he doesn’t think about the way he will be reprimanded for straying from his target. He only thinks of you.

The thought leads him through a massacre, decorating the cobbled streets with crimson. The path itself is pathed with bloodshed, littered with corpses in various states of dismemberment. The longer he walks, the more it becomes clear that he isn’t looking for a person this time; he is looking for a body. There is no life he can sense around him, but your connection–feeble, and waning as it may be–urges him forward. 

Finally, it stops him right before one.

The sight of your corpse, as mangled and gruesome as it may be, no longer fazes him. He stands, pausing long enough to pay his respects, before retreating with a heaviness in his steps.

He will meet you again, in the next life.

🏷️ taglist: @tragedy-of-commons, @mollzaj, @mikashisus, @starcharmed.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[strwbryien]

｢ ᝰ.ᐟ entry 07: COLLAB STREAM ⭑.ᐟ ｣

“Hello, guys! How are you all doing today?” you greeted your fans with a bright smile, adjusting the mic as your avatar waves at the screen.

The chat exploded with messages, colorful usernames scrolling past.

"Glad to see you're all doing well! I'm doing pretty good, too," you said with a laugh.

“Scaramouche will be joining the stream in a few minutes, so please behave and be nice, okay?” You giggled, knowing full well that chaos will be inevitable once he shows up.

chaelvskumi: what are we playing today, kumi? :D

“We’re playing Twin Realms today! It’s Hoyoverse’s newest game—super hyped about it!” Your voice practically bubbled with excitement as you adjusted the game screen on stream.

Before you could continue, a familiar voice cut through the light-hearted atmosphere.

“Are you always this loud, or is it just a special treat for me?” Scaramouche’s sarcastic tone made you freeze for a moment. He had entered the stream.

“Oh, you’re here already,” you deadpanned, turning toward his avatar on the screen—a smirking, cocky character that fits him so well.

“No shit, you let me in,” he replied flatly.

The chat erupted with lmao and omg it’s starting already as the banter kicked off.

“Shut up, Scara,” you shot back

“No thanks,” he said, the smugness in his voice palpable.

You sighed dramatically, “Chat, why did I agree to this collab again? Remind me, please.”

teapotenthusiast: Because you love us suffering.

kuniixfan: lol suffer

zuhakiss: this is a bad idea 😭

scara4ever: scara please marry me

“See? Even chat knows this was a bad idea,” you muttered, switching tabs to load the game.

Scaramouche hummed in mock agreement. “Bad idea for you, maybe. For me? Free entertainment. Watching you struggle is the highlight of my week.”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that when I beat you in every realm today,” you shot back with a smirk.

“As if,” he scoffed. “Let’s see how long you last before rage-quitting.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

The game loaded, its dramatic opening music filling the stream, accompanied by stunning visuals. Aether and Lumine appeared as the starter characters, standing side by side in a glowing field of starlight.

“Wah! It’s Aether and Lumine!” you exclaimed, leaning closer to the screen. “They’re finally together after all that drama, huh?”

“It feels... weird,” Scaramouche replied, his tone more thoughtful than usual. “Seeing them together like this. We only ever get one twin while playing genshin.”

Chat buzzed with excitement.

onittobuto: justice for the twins!!

aetheriswife: hoyoverse finally giving us what we deserve 🗣️‼️

st4rryoi: they look so pretty!

“Well, it’s about time,” you said, cutting through the chatter. “I hope they stay together for the whole game—none of that tragic separation stuff.”

You refocused on the screen. “Hey, come here. I think we need to stand on this platform together to trigger the cutscene.”

“Tch, so demanding,” he grumbled, but his character moved begrudgingly toward yours.

“Oh, shut up and stand still,” you shot back

The two avatars stood side by side on the glowing platform. A dazzling beam of light engulfed them, and the screen began to fade, signaling the start of an cutscene.

sorayaz: are you ever gonna stream not faceless, kumi? :3

You chuckled nervously, glancing at the chat. “Honestly, I don’t know yet. I still feel a bit anxious about streaming with my face, so... yeah, I’m not sure.”

“How about you, Scara?” you asked, turning the question on him. “Are you ever gonna do a face reveal?”

“I don’t know,” he replied casually. “But I probably will at some point. Still, I don’t really care about that. They should watch me for my gameplay, not my face.”

scaraswife: ithought you’d quit streaming after showing that... face of yours 💀 how are you still going lol?

You froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. “Oh... uhm—”

“If you don’t have anything nice to say,” Scaramouche cut in sharply, his tone colder than usual, “exit this fucking stream. You’re embarrassing me.”

The chat fell silent for a few seconds before erupting:

chaelvskumi: you tell them, scara

kumiluvr: who the hell was that? can someone ban them

beigguangsolos: LMAO THAT’S WHAT YOU GET 💀

saetoru: dw kumi, they're js insecure bc you're pretty

“Anyway,” Scaramouche continued, brushing the comment off like it never happened, “if anyone else feels the need to act stupid, save us both the time and leave now.” You bit back a laugh, shaking your head. “Well, that’s one way to handle it.”

“What? I’m not wrong,” he said

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synopsis:

IN WHICH—you, although faceless, are a very famous streamer known as KUMI. you were streaming as usual, playing games and interacting with fans. but when you're about to exit the stream, you accidentally pressed the wrong button that led to you opening your cam and showing your whole face to your audience. this wasn't supposed to happen, no ! so you panicked and quickly ended the stream. numerous screenshots circulated on twitter, which broke both the fans and the internet. this reached a certain someone, SCARAMOUCHE, your rival in streaming. when the said boy saw the trending photo, he almost fell off his gaming chair. because—lo and behold! KUMI was actually [name]?! now who is this [name] in his life, if you may ask? she's the girl that scaramouche has been admiring from afar in real life! quite shocking, right? have i told you that he’s also been sending you anonymous love letters? oh well...

ꪆৎ taglist

@imnotyizhuo @kazufavor @najaemism @simonisferal @lovelypadisarah @eternallykira-143 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @yuminako @035814 @squigglewigglewoo @lxkeeeee @blvdmrcnry @wth121 @lloovvv @3lectraheart @lovemiyae @danhenglovebot @heusalettle @automaticpatroltragedy @kyon-cherri @lalalaloveallmydays @musings-of-miss-j @ilxandra @lazy-sanns @vixialuvs @bananasquash @kochothehoe @lily-lmao @shutingstar @sketcheeee @minhosprettywife @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @kinanahana @featuredtofu @tamikahoshiko @jayzioxx @kleeboomed @saechiro @shyentsmissingink @poemzcheng @rifran @projectsfantasy @yejiswifex @peachystea @vi0let-writes @sicuit @hee-jinn @6blxe @viannasthings @trulyylee

[k0yaz]

if you still write for danganronpa could i req a kokichi x afab (preferably gn) reader smut oneshot? pls n thx!!

molded

Pairings: kokichi x gn!reader

CW: nsfw, gender neutral pronouns, afab reader, breeding, no dom/sub dynamics, sort of vanilla sex but kinda rough??? kokichi being out of it? that pussy was too good

A/N: sorry I’ve been inactive for a few days I needed some time to collect myself lol also this one’s short bc I got not so creative feel free to request again if you want more detail or longer?

Heavy breathing and strained gasps echoed off the walls of the surrounding room. New sounds were wrenched out of your throat every time you felt Kokichi bottom out inside you, dragging himself in quick, yet rhythmic motions. Every thrust inside you sent euphoric waves throughout your body, your mind blanking from every time his tip hit that one sensitive spot inside you.

Kokichi knew damn well that as much as he wanted to hear your gorgeous moans, he couldn’t hold back his own voice no matter how much he wanted to. Between each fervent thrust of his hips colliding against yours, his lower lip dragged between his teeth, muffling his own grunts as his hard cock pushed into you. The sensations enveloping your bodies was too much. It drove you over the edge upon feeling Kokichi press several sloppy kisses against your flushed skin between his movements, it was honestly an adorable attempt to show his love for you.

A guttural moan escaped your throat upon feeling him push himself to the hilt into your cunt, as if he was trying to reach inside you as far as possible. The way he buried himself into you was slow, yet calculated. Stretching you out from the girth of his dick and practically molding your pussy to slip around his cock perfectly. You heaved several shallow breaths upon feeling the delicious intrusion within you, clawing into his back and raking your nails down.

“K-Kokichi…” you drawled out weakly, biting back another moan as you clenched around him. Kokichi however couldn’t even respond, nor could he tease like he usually does. He was so lost in the sensations, drool piled up near the corners of his mouth and sweat beading down his whole body. At this point, the two of you were just giving in to any raw desire you had and going along with it.

Despite being so small in terms of height, down there he certainly wasn’t based on how you were practically screaming for him. Your thighs trembled in his grasp as the muscles tightened upon feeling his steady movements in and out of you once again.

The way Kokichi’s cock was lodged inside you, mixed with the rhythmic motions of each rugged thrust only assisted by your slick submerging his cock for smoother movements, drove him insane.

“(Name)- please I can’t-“ Kokichi gasped out, his head thrown back as he was evidently biting back a string of obscene noises.

He hissed under his breath, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and quick. Skin clashed against skin as you felt his hips roughly collide with yours, with lewd squelching noises filling the air shamelessly. Kokichi shamelessly pounded into you, his own moans now slipping out of him with tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. Euphoric sensations washed over your whole body, your eyes rolling back every time you felt the veins of his cock ridge along your walls, driving you mad.

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, your eyes losing themselves in his violet gaze like you always did. You loved him so much. “M’gonna cum…can we? At the same time?”

Kokichi could only nod between his labored breathing and fervent thrusts, immediately pushing himself forward into you and filling you up completely. His head fell back, fingers digging into your supple skin and heaving out a low moan as ropes of his cum poured into you, your own orgasm washing over you not too long after.

Your chests heaved as you came down from your high, bodies stuck together as if you were both molded for each other. You pressed a kiss to the top of his nose, smiling at his flushed face and dazed expression.

“Wanna go for another?”

A/N: delaying anything in my box because I got a personal request!! Hope u don’t mind short fic