#i might actually really like this character

[avelera]

So apparently, Fortiche shared concept art where Jayce's Hexcorization in the cave would extend all the way to his face:

And this is really interesting to me from a narrative perspective, here's why:

Much of S2 Jayce's arc is incredibly... punitive. Like, he is really being punished step by step for everything he did wrong in S1. From Renni terrorizing and almost killing him for the death of her son, to Viktor leaving him "for another woman" (the Hexcore as represented by Sky) much like Jayce left him for politics as represented by Mel, there's really a sense of the narrative not only tearing Jayce down to his bare essentials (something that's very common for TV writing to do, by the way, it's very common that you want to see characters reduced down to who they are for their "long night of the soul" moment before they learn the lessons of what they really stand for before going into the climax armed with those lessons), but Jayce's time in the cave really goes even further than that and not only does S2 take away his political career, his Hextech ambitions, his state as someone able-bodied, much of his strength, and certain other gifts, it looks like in this draft they considered taking away his beauty too.

I think it would have been interesting either way if they had, but I want to dive into the narrative structure of action and punishment in Arcane, why Hexcorizing Jayce's face might have been a step too far and not really addressed a lesson he needed to learn, and my thoughts on punitive character arcs in general in Arcane (or lack thereof), specifically with regards to Jayce and Caitlyn.

I've mentioned elsewhere that I always found it interesting that much of the hate directed towards Jayce by the fans was for his perceived incompetence in difficult moments, rather than at how naturally gifted he seems to be at everything.

When I first watched S1 on my own, I thought Jayce was a bit unbearable because everything comes so easily to him (after Viktor becomes his partner and Hextech takes off as a result, that is). He is naturally beautiful, he's built like a god but doesn't appear to do any sort of exercise routine to maintain this other than working in the forge, he becomes the Man of Progress and rockstar of Piltover pretty much without trying, girls are literally sighing dreamily as he goes by.

He's also naturally a genius, from what we see, revolutionizing multiple industries with one invention. Even his rescue as a child is a literal miracle and it spurs him to create an invention that makes him a rockstar. When he enters politics, he immediately dominates, to the point where he's able to get a unanimous vote to overthrow the founder of the city within weeks of going there. Even in battle he's naturally gifted and naturally lucky during the raid of the Shimmer factory (up until the death of Renni's son), even though he has no prior skills as far as we know. He also wins the love of arguably the most beautiful woman in the series, again, seemingly without trying.

Then, S2 doesn't just take all of this away from him, it seems to go a step further into actually punishing Jayce for how easy and miraculous his life was in S1.

I'm of two minds about the Hexcorization reaching his face, but I have a hypothesis. I think it would have looked fucking rad but, I kinda get why they didn't do it:

Because Jayce's good looks are not something he can control, unlike the other things the narrative punishes him for.

Insofar as he can control his looks, he gives up on the clean-cut, immaculate "Golden Boy" image. Even in the idealized astral plane, he keeps most of the marks of his time in the pit like his hair and beard. I think it's because Jayce likes who he became down there. The clean-cut version of him was always the mask of him trying to please others, Jayce's appearance after he emerges from the cave is him shedding the opinions of others (contrast this with how Viktor idealizes himself in the astral plane, removing all marks of his illness. This isn't a criticism, just an interesting point of contrast).

So basically, my theory is Fortiche may have pulled back on Hexcorizing Jayce's face on the one hand to soften the visuals a bit, but secondly because it keeps the focus on punishing Jayce for things he chose to do, rather than things he doesn't really have control over.

But make no mistake, the narrative comes down hard on Jayce in S2, for every little thing the fans could and often did hate him for in S1. He pays for all of them, arguably in excess of what he maybe deserved, since as he says he didn't ask for any of this. But he did go along with it, and there's where the hammer of consequence (quite literally) comes down on him, tears away all his privileges, drags him down to literally the level of Viktor when he first left the undercity and says, "You have to do it all again but now focused on what really matters, and it's going to be ten times harder than it ever was."

This, in my opinion, is why Jayce is so popular coming out of S2. It is a hell of an arc, it's a hell of a redemption! You gave the man everything any man could want, then you took it all away, and then as his crowning moment of showing he has truly learned these lessons and made up for his mistakes, he makes possibly the most loving gesture possible, puts his weapons down, and reaches out to the person he loves most and literally sacrifices himself on the altar of his mistakes to make things right and show Viktor he is loved, and to protect Viktor from the horrifically lonely fate of his future self. It doesn't get any more noble, loving, or self-sacrificing than that.

Because more than we like to see a character punished we like to see them learn from their mistakes and come back better. Jayce's S2 nobility is earned, perhaps even to excess, no one can question whether he suffered enough to make up for what he did in S1 but even the most uncharitable read of him in S1, his biggest hater, would have to agree his time spent starving to death in agony, alone in that cave for months, has got to be just about the worst punishment a human can face and live.

Which is one reason I must add that I find it a little puzzling that Arcane's creators didn't predict the hate that Caitlyn would get in S2.

Keep in mind, because this is very important, the Arcane creators did not make S2 in response to fan reactions to S1. S2 was already in production and the script was locked in and done before anyone outside their organizations saw S1. So nothing that happens in S2 is as a result of fan response.

But, the creators did understand that Jayce was going to need to suffer narrative punishment for what he did in S1 in order to be redeemed, whether they predicted how hated he would be after S1, they did predict that redemption would be necessary. And boy-howdy, did they give him a hell of a redemption arc!

But Caitlyn's S2 actions are almost in lock-step similar to Jayce's S1 actions, being manipulated (by a Medarda!) into accepting power, but maybe not having a choice in the matter, but still maybe expanding that power on their own because it is useful in its own right. Caitlyn also makes terrible mistakes. A child doesn't die but people in the undercity do get hurt during her rage-fuled raids, even if most of them are mob bosses and their goons. The narrative asks, does that make it right? Caitlyn like Jayce hurts the person closest to her who is from the undercity and uses bigoted language against the people of the undercity to Vi's face in much the same way that Jayce did to Viktor on the bridge, though in Jayce's defense, he apologized immediately after.

So, seeing how hated Jayce was coming out of S1, to the point where there's still barely any merchandise of him, I'm shaking my head rather ruefully that there was so much merch made for Caitlyn this time around. And I get it! Caitlyn and Vi were very popular after S1, they are intentionally THE main romance of the show and it was a very popular romance coming out of the innocence of their meet cute in S1.

But it's a romance that dearly needed a longer third act if you wanted Caitlyn to be as embraced after her mistakes as Jayce was after making up for his all through S2. You need to give her as long or at least as in-depth of a redemption act with as much suffering and acknowledgment of her mistakes if you want Vi and Caitlyn at the end to get celebrated the way Jayce making it up to Viktor is, because as much as I understand the choice to focus on pacing instead of exposition, and I do think Caitlyn's apology and realization of her mistakes are there on the page more than people complain, I do also agree that it is a bit "blink and you'll miss it" even if it's there. Jayce got a whole episode of being thrown into the Torment Nexus for his mistakes, real or imagined, if you didn't like him or his choices, you definitely got the sadistic glee of watching life kick the stuffing out of him for what he did in S1.

But besides her fight with Ambessa, which was a result of a confluence of many events in the story, not just Caitlyn's mistakes, Caitlyn doesn't really suffer much for the mistakes she made to those she loves. Her losing an eye to Ambessa didn't happen because she said bigoted things to Vi or became a short-term puppet dictator of Piltover. It was a result of Ambessa's actions and maneuvering more than it was a result of Caitlyn's personal mistakes to her loved ones.

In contrast, Jayce's time in the pit gave him the chance to reflect on and suffer for the the mistakes he made that led to the Anomaly that led to him being down in this pit, and what he would do to make it up to his loved ones like Viktor when he returned. Caitlyn never got a moment like that and from what I'm seeing of the vitriol directed towards her, so similar to what Jayce got after S1, it seems like she really needed it if we were going to like her to the same extent again, in a way uncomplicated by lingering questions about whether she ever truly learned the lessons her character needed to learn to grow as a person.

And it's just funny to me that a narrative that was so aware that this whole huge punishment arc was needed to rehabilitate Jayce wasn't aware that we'd need one for Caitlyn too, at least if they're going to move all that merch they made for her (please give us Jayce merch, Riot, I'm begging).

[jaeyunnz]

"Work Break Seduction."

ni-ki + f¡reader — ♡ 18+

WARNINGS — dom!ni-ki, sub¡reader, dirty talk, making out, cussing, rough sex, riki eats out reader, unprotected sex (stay safe dont do it.) pet names.

both characters are of age. (20+) not proofread, sorry if theres any errors. this is quite long but worth the read i promise!

Reader recently went into a new college and grew a school crush on Riki. Though he plays hard to get, your able to break his nonchalant demeanour.

Note : Riki was mostly requested, so enjoy. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Your parents recently moved to a different town, which meant transferring to a new college. It wasn’t as bad as you expected, though you didn’t really know anyone there—but that was fine. At least your childhood friend, Jess, was with you.

A few weeks passed, and you found yourself constantly drawn to a boy—Riki. Girls flocked to him, yet he always brushed them off or rejected their advances. No one seemed to know much about him. He was distant, only ever seen around small groups. But that only made him more intriguing. The mystery surrounding him pulled you in, making you want to learn more about him.

The problem? He avoided everyone—including you. The only times you ever spoke were during school projects, and even then, the conversations were brief or short talk.

This morning, once again, you found yourself paired with Riki. It didn’t bother you as much, but you could tell he wasn’t thrilled about the idea. “Alright, your partners have been chosen. Get to work, project’s due in two days,” the teacher announced. You scanned the room for Riki, and then your eyes landed on him. He was leaning back in his chair, his posture casual and almost lazy. You knew you had to make the first move and approach him, or he’d likely ignore you the entire time.

You hated that you always had to be the one to approach him—it made you feel almost desperate. Yet, here you were, getting up and walking toward him. He watched as you pulled out your chair and sat down beside him. “Hi,” you said, glancing at him for a brief moment. He responded with a small nod, his usual way of acknowledging you.

You settle into the seat, trying to ignore the awkwardness that always seemed to hang between you two. The silence stretched for a moment, neither of you making any effort to start the project. You glance at him, but he’s already looking at his phone, clearly disinterested. Then, you let out a soft sigh, wishing he’d at least pretend to care. Finally deciding to break the silence. “So, uh… how do you want to split this up?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He shrugs without looking up. “You can do whatever,” he mutters. You bite back a small frustration. Damn, you knew he wasn’t one for much conversation, but it always felt like pulling teeth to get him to participate. Yet, there was something about his indifference that kept you intrigued, even if it was maddening. “I guess I’ll start with the research,” you say, hoping for a bit more input. He doesn’t respond, but you take that as your cue to begin.

The next hour passes in relative silence, except for the occasional rustling of papers and the tapping of his phone. You focus on your work, trying not to pay attention to how he barely acknowledges your presence. Though you’re starting to get irritated by how you’re doing all the work while he’s just sitting there—eyes glued to his phone, doing nothing at all, you can’t bring yourself to get truly mad. Not when he looks this… handsome.

Should you try to start another conversation, hoping he might actually respond? You really wanted to get to know him better, maybe even get him to show a little interest in you, too. Fuck it, might as well, you really like him. "Prom is coming soon, you going out with anyone?" Thats the first thing that came to mind, it was a bit personal, but your curious. Maybe you can shoot your shot?

He finally lifts his head up from his phone, placing it on the desk and locks eyecontact with you. "Nah. Not interested in that typa stuff." For the first time, he actually seemed engaged, and it left you a little thrown off balance. "Why not?" You say, he gives you a shrug. "Why are you asking anyway?" He raises an eyebrow, your slightly taken by surprise when he asks, trying to make yourself sound less interested. "I'm just trying to conversate with you, I mean your quiet as fuck."

He lets out a deep, small chuckle that sounds rich, causing you to snap your eyes at him. Shit, he's really talking to you? "Yeah, well you could've asked me anything," he taps the desk with his fingertips, "But that was apparently the first thing that came to mind?" He rests his arm over the head of the chair, scanning your body for a moment which causes a small faint redness appear on your cheeks. "A bit bold of you, I'll give you credit for that."

You slightly roll your eyes, "How was that bold? I simply asked if you had a prom date or not." He finally sits up straight in his seat, running his hand through his short black hair which catches your attention. "Really?" He chuckles a bit, looking around the classroom.

You raise your eyebrow in slight confusion before he meets your gaze again, "C'mon now. You don't think i've noticed you staring at me?" Your eyes widen, he leans in closer and suddenly your heart starts to pound unbelievably fast. "Every single time we have a class together, I see you." his cold fingertips trails up your thigh, "Your into me? Aren't you? I mean thats why you asked me such a question." Your body freezes, shivers running down your spine.

How the fuck did he know?

"Thats not..." unable to finish your sentence with his hand making contact with your thigh. "Not true?" He says, his hands creeping down to pull your chair closer to him, the both of your knees brushing against eachother. His eyes dart down to your lips, a teasing smirk appearing on his face. Before you can say anything, the bell rings, interrupting the intense moment.

"We can uhm... finish this project later?" He leans back against his chair, acting totally careless about what just happened between you two. "Meet me at lunch." Is all he says before leaving the room. You know your face is beet red, but you dont even wanna see how you look right now. So then you start putting away the paper work into your bag, packing your stuff as he leaves the room, not looking back at you once. For a moment you just stand in the now empty class with a blank mind, trying to process everything that happened.

At lunch, you find yourself sitting at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, just as he asked. Your heart races a little, unsure of what to expect. You glance around, half-expecting him to bail, but then you spot him walking toward you, looking as casual as ever.

"Hey," Riki says, sliding into the seat across from you. His eyes briefly meet yours before he looks down at the table. "Hi," you reply, trying to sound casual even though your nerves are on edge. There’s a moment of silence between you two, the kind that always seemed to stretch on forever. You want to fill it with something, but words feel like they’re just out of reach.

Finally, he speaks again. "So, what’s your deal?" You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?” He shrugs, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a split second before looking away again. "Like, why are you always tryna talk to me. You barely know me." His bluntness takes you by surprise, but somehow it doesn’t feel as cold as you thought it would. It’s almost… honest.

You take a deep breath. "I don’t know. You’re just different, you know? It’s hard to ignore." He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'll take that as a compliment I guess."

"I mean yeah, like you’re this whole mystery. I just want to figure you out." For a second, he looks like he’s about to say something, but instead, he leans back in his seat, his gaze lingering on you a little longer. You feel like he’s reading you, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s trying to figure you out too. Then, without warning, he leans forward, closing the space between you. His hand brushes against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

"Well," he says, voice low, "maybe you’ll find out soon." Before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on yours. It’s sudden, soft at first, but the intensity quickly builds, and everything else fades away. The warmth of his mouth against yours leaves you breathless, and for a moment, everything feels completely different, like this is where you’re supposed to be.

When he pulls away, you’re left dazed, trying to catch your breath. He looks at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a hint of something—something you can’t quite place. "You okay?" he asks, his voice a little rough. You nod, still in shock, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah. I think I’m more than okay." You bite your lower lip slightly, blushing profusely.

You both sit there for a moment, the air thick with tension and a thousand unspoken words. Your heart is still racing, but now, it's not from nerves. It's from the overwhelming feeling that something has shifted between you two. He doesn't move away, instead, his eyes search yours, almost like he's waiting for something.

Your mind is swirling, but your body seems to take over, leaning in closer, lips barely brushing against his. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his presence pulling you in with a force you can't resist. Without thinking, you kiss him again— this time deeper, more urgent. His hand finds its way to your cheek, his thumb gently grazing the skin as he pulls you in, his other hand sliding to your waist. Your heart hammers in your chest as he kisses you back with a hunger you didn't expect.

It's nothing like the first kiss-this one is raw, a mix of desire and need. You feel his fingers trace the line of your jaw, his touch almost desperate, and it sends a rush of heat through you. Your hands instinctively find his shirt, tugging him closer, as if you can't get enough of him.

His lips move with yours, more demanding now, and you match his intensity, breathless and wanting more. You can't explain it, but everything about him feels right-how he holds you, how his lips mold against yours, like this was always meant to happen. His hand slides down your back, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the heat building between you two. The kiss deepens, and everything else disappears-there's only him, only this moment.

When Riki pulls away, both of you are panting, eyes locked, faces inches apart. "You sure about this?" he asks, his voice husky. You nod, trusting your voice.

You're sure. You want this. You want him.

Without saying another word, he tilts his head toward a washroom near by the cafeteria. Afterall you both can't do anything with people around, so that was the only option. You get up, your heart beating even faster as he follows behind you. He pushes you into one of the stalls, locking it behind you.

He slowly turns around, pushing your back against the wall and his lips are on yours again, and this time, it feels like the beginning of something that neither of you can pull away from. The kiss continues, deepening with each passing second. His hands move, exploring, pulling you closer as if he can't get enough of you either. The way he holds you makes everything else fade into the background-the noise of the cafeteria, the people walking by the washroom, it all feels distant and irrelevant.

You feel his breath against your lips, a slight tremor in his touch as his fingers trace the curve of your back. Your own hands slide into his hair, fingers threading through the strands as you pull him in even closer, wanting more of him. You can taste the faint trace of mint on his breath, and it only makes you crave him more.

Riki slowly pulls away from the kiss, the both of you breathless. Finally his hand slides down your thigh, inching under your skirt. "Can I?" He grunts out as you nod at him almost instantly. "Starting to think you've wanted this for a while now," he chuckles, slipping his hands underneath your skirt and groping your ass, a small moan escaping your lips. "S-shut up will you?" He smirks, his lips trail down, leaving wet kisses down your neck. 

You press your lips tightly together, glaring at him playfully. You can't help but feel a surge of need. It's like you're both fighting the same battle, giving in to something that's been building up for weeks. Suddenly you find your hand guiding his further up your skirt.

Riki doesn't hesitate, immediately shoving your hand aside and tearing your panties apart with his hands. He gets down on his knees and buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking at your dripping folds without warning like a starved man. Your eyes roll back to the back of your head, looking down at him in slight surprise. "Fuck, you're so wet." He growls against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs.

He groans as he feels your fingers gripping his hair tighter, your delicious moans spurring him on. He alternates between long, teasing licks and quick flicks against your clit, savoring your sweet taste. His hands squeeze your ass, pulling you harder against his face. "F...fuck ah mmph.." Your back arches against the wall, clawing at it slightly as you try to keep quiet, not wanting anyone to hear.

He hooks his arms around your legs and throws them over his shoulders, opening you up even wider. He laps his tongue greedily around your clit, determined to make you come on his face before he allows himself to enter you. "Mmh." He groans against your pussy, your body shaking slightly from the vibration. "A-ah Riki..." The stall gets filled up with slurping sounds along with your quiet desperate moans.

He slightly pulls back, looking up at you with half closed eyes. Your breathing heavily, sweat dripping down your forehead. "Riki or daddy?" He licks his lower lip slightly, smirking a bit as he sees your widened eyes. "I..I am not calling you that weirdo." He tilts his head back, "Hey hey, it was just a suggestion."

"I'll think... about it." You whisper embarrassed, turning a light shade of red when he lets out a quiet chuckle. "Thats my good girl." Your legs slightly tremble at the name, butterflies forming in your stomach before he spreads your legs wider, feasting on your pussy like it's his last meal. He growls against your cunt when you reach down to grip his hair. Your about to reach your climax and he knows it.

"I-I'm gonna-" you whine out, the sound echoes around the empty washroom. Riki snaps his mouth against your clit, sucking hard. "Come on my face, baby." His tongue laps up your juices, going fast and hard against your sensitive nub. "Give it to me." His words are more than enough for you to reach your high, finding yourself cumming all over his face, your thighs shaking violently while you try your hardest not to scream from the pleasure.

He feels your body convulse with your climax. He spreads your legs wider, pushing them back almost painfully, allowing him deeper access. His tongue goes wild, licking and sucking every last bit of your juice. He growls softly against your pussy before pulling back, licking your release off his lips. You suck in a moan, looking down at him.

Riki's cock is aching against his jeans, begging to be free. "P-please." He hears your soft beg. He unbuckles his belt slowly, eyes darkening. "Do you want my dick?" His voice is deep, seeing you slowly nod your head. He pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion, freeing his throbbing cock. He strokes himself slowly, letting you admire his impressive size. A droplet of precum pearls at the tip as he grunts. You stare intently, gulping at his length, "You're..."

He steps forward, turning you around and lifting your ass up, rubbing the head against your sensitive entrance. "Yeah? Think you can take it?" His voice is thick with desire as he pushes the tip just slightly inside you, a loud gasp escaping your mouth. "So far for being quiet." Riki says teasingly as you glare up at him playfully, swallowing hard. "I-I'm trying my hardest," He chuckles while pushing in slightly more, filling you with just the tip. "Am I too big?" He grunts, your hands going up to grip his shoulders tightly.

"I-I can take it.." you whimper out. "You sure?" He feeds you another inch, making you wince slightly. He watches your face closely. "Tsk, you're only halfway there." He pulls back slightly then pushes in another inch, hitting a new spot inside you which causes your mouth to open wide. "You really can take my whole dick? Don't wanna hurt you." His voice drops lower.

You just nod, desperation taking over you. "Good girl." He praises darkly, then grips your hips tightly and slams his hips forward, impaling you completely on his massive length. For a second, your vision gets blurry, the pleasure overwhelming. "Fuck!" He roars as he bottoms out inside you, gripping on your hips tightly. You let out a loud straining moan before hearing someone walk into the washroom.

The both of you freeze, and Riki doesn't move inside you just yet. Your slightly panicking but he doesn't seem to care because he begins to grind his hips slowly, letting you feel every inch of him. Your mouth opens wide, but he quickly covers it with his hand, leaning down and whispers against your ear, "That pussy just swallowed every inch of my cock like such a good girl." His hands grip your thighs roughly, pulling you open wider. You swallow hard, whimpering against his palm. "Shh, don't wanna get caught do you?"

Finally that person seems to leave — and Riki's hand leaves your mouth. His thick shaft drags in and out of your tight, soaked pussy at a brutal pace. Each thrust makes you wince and whimper, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. He pounds into you relentlessly, the sound of his skin slapping against your ass filling the room. "F-fuck ah.. Riki-" You roll your eyes back, your mind becoming blank.

He can feel your gentle scratches against his back as he pounds into you, his hands tightening on your thighs. "Fuck, baby. This what you wanted? My dick destroying your insides?" You nod, opening your mouth to speak but words come out as moans instead. He pulls your hips further up to get deeper inside you. He leans forward, his mouth finding yours in a harsh, bruising kiss as he continues to rut into you.

He groans loudly into the kiss as he feels your pussy clench tightly around his throbbing shaft before breaking the kiss, panting heavily. "Shit, you're squeezing me so fucking tight." He adjusts his angle, deliberately targeting your G-spot with every powerful thrust.

Your trying to grip on the walls, but your fingers slip. "G-gonna cum..." His eyes darken with lust at your words, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. "Cum for me, baby. Milk my dick with that tight cunt." He reaches down and circles his thumb over your clit, applying pressure in time with his thrusts.

And with that, He feels your release bathe his length, making him groan loudly. Your pussy pulses around him tightly, almost painfully. He pumps into you erratically, losing his rhythm. He lowers his head and watches as your fluids coat his shaft, making it glide easily in and out of your body.

He pants heavily, finally unleashing his pent up load deep inside of your wet cunt. Your back arches against him as he does so, the both of you letting out loud moans from the feeling. Then he pulls out slowly, his cock glistening with your juices. "Fuck." He holds your waist and you tremble, putting your whole body weight on him since your struggling to stand.

The bathroom stall feels too small now, the air thick with the weight of what just happened. You’re both still breathing heavily, and there’s a quiet, almost uncomfortable stillness between you.

He leans back against the wall, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to process everything. You do the same, your mind racing a little. It’s strange how quickly things shifted, how in the span of just a few minutes, everything between you changed. You glance over at him. He’s still looking at you, his eyes soft, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You’re both just sitting there in the aftermath, unsure of what to say next.

"So… that happened," you murmur, trying to break the silence. He lets out a small laugh, but it’s low, more to himself than anything. “Yeah. Guess it did.” His voice sounds different now, less guarded, but there’s still that underlying tension. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or nervous. A mix of both. "I didn’t expect it to happen like this, especially here." He looks around the cramped stall, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Neither did I. But… it’s not the worst place, I guess."

You roll your eyes, half-smiling. “So… what now?” you ask, the question hanging in the air between you. He pauses, clearly thinking it over. Finally, he looks at you, his gaze steady. "I don’t know. But I don’t want it to be a one-time thing." You can’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you. "Neither do I."

💘: thank you so much for all your support on my storiesss!! i didnt expect anyone to like them, so thank youu!!!🥹💕💕 ill get to the rest of the requests soon, im currently busy w school so itll take some time, thanks for your patience🫶

[specialgradefckr]

thinking about bullying nerd!gojo.

shoving him against lockers. punching him in the arm, tripping him whenever he walks past, throwing his textbooks in the trash.

you sneer at him for being a nerd (you're in the same advanced classes), steal his fancy bento box lunches, make him carry your books between classes, even force him to be your errand boy.

he's asking for it, really. with those stupid digimon keychains on his bag -

"how did you know it's digimon?" "shut the fuck up, nerd."

his anime stickers -

"neon genesis evangelion? how can you like that anime? all the characters are so messed up!" "hehe, asuka best girl~"

and how he loaded up his stupid fancy walkman exclusively with anime openings -

"you wanna listen?" "no! hand it over to me or i'm telling the teacher."

nerd!satoru gojo who could very easily fight you off.

even though he's a bean pole (as you frequently point out), he's a lot stronger than you realize - hidden by his long sleeves and sweater vests and loose ("comfortable!") clothing.

oh, he plays weak in front of you. suguru gets a real kick out of it, but you're not any nicer to him.

"satoru, what the hell are you doing? just walk past."

you shoot the goth a scathing glare, "nobody asked you, edgelord freak."

"at least i have a style," suguru bites back. he's more than used to getting looks.

"yeah, and it's shit. fuck off."

"you-"

suguru is about to release an especially pointed remark on your lack of friends, perceived financial status, and general shitty personality that somehow managed to be worse than his idiot best friends', but satoru gives him an absolutely withering glare. icy.

"yeah, suguru," he parrots, "fuck off."

"you shut up!" you snap immediately, "i wasn't done with you!"

suguru doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

this song and dance has been going on for years now, and you're all seniors.

"oh! yeah, of course, sorry," satoru beams at you, "you wanted to study together after school?"

you'd been threatening him to hand over his homework.

suguru supposes, in satoru's deranged mind, oversaturated with media references and calculus formulas, this might sound like a date.

"fine," you snap in exasperation, "however the hell you want to do it. just be there, all right?"

"of course! i'd never let you down!" he's nodding eagerly as you huff, release his collar, and stalk away.

"wait up!" satoru whines, gathering his books and trailing after you like a dumb puppy.

"fucking keep up, nerd, i'm not slowing down for you," you say, as you slow down for him.

for fuck's sake. it's a miracle two people this dense could even meet each other, and somehow, you're both in advanced classes.

if you don't fuck by the end of the school year, suguru thinks he's actually going to die.

[1st4bp30ple]

lmfao i called them and said that there was school a read aloud from a wattpad, a sonic x mario x kermit threesome abortion fanfic. i spent thirty minutes pretending to have a panic attack, full crying mental breakdown while reading it to them. i even did impressions of them while hysterically crying and screaming. fav part was when kermit told mario he was mpreg and then in my fuckass mario voice, "ITS-A ABORTION!" i excessively cried and wailed about how kermit should have kept the baby and raised it to have a beautiful life, from the rest of the call i would randomly scream because i had just remembered kermit got an abortion.

my daughters name was chapel roan, "a very christian name" and i had panic attacks when i saw gay people. i told a whole story about how i passed out in public because i saw a man in skinny jeans and then passed out again in the hospital because the nurse had purple hair. my character used the mens bathroom because to her it was actually the women's bathroom because all of the trans men used the mens bathroom.

at the end of the call i said i couldn't read it anymore because "i was getting really wet-- MY TEARS I MEAN. CUZ IM CRYING. MY EYES ARE REALLY WET FUCK" and then hung up. yeah, the stupid ass lady on the line actually completely believed me. a few weeks later i completely forgot about it and got a random call from arizona.

i answer it because i love to fuck with random numbers.

"this is dan's pizzaria and abortion clinic where yesterday's loss is today's sauce how can i help you?"

it was the fucking hotline.

"um... yes we got a call from you a few weeks ago, uhm, you were the one with the kermit x mario x sonic abortion story? the school you told us about doesn't seem to exist and i think you might have told us the wrong address?"

i then fought with the lady on the phone for an hour that the address was real. i then started pretending to have another panic attack because she had convinced me i wasnt real. while i was stalling i looked up an actual school to give her and after milking my fake panic attack for a while i was like "oh. wait that's not the actual school." and gave her an actual school name. i wonder how they're doing on that case.

So Arizona launched an “education hotline” that allows “concerned parents” to report “””critical race theory””” and other things like ~gender identity~ being taught in the classroom

It would be a shame if the number and email were spread to bad actors looking to prank call the AZ Department of Education

602-771-3500 or empower @ azed .gov 🤡

[prettycopperpennies]

They Take Care Of/Comfort You When You're Sick

Anonymous asked:

Could I request a Squid Game preference (with the usual characters) where the reader has a cold/fever or something and they take care of them, or vice versa?

Squid Games x GN!Reader

Including: The Frontman/Player 001/Hwang In-ho | Player 230/Thanos/ Choi Su-bong | Player 388/Kang Dae-ho | Player 333/Lee Myung-gi | The Recruiter

The Frontman/Player 001/Hwang In-ho

~Hwang In-ho would hear the sniffles when you called asking for a favor and he would immediately check in on you

~”Darling are you alright?”

~Even over the phone he would be able to clock you were sick before you asked him to bring you cold medicine

~You could tell him all you wanted not to worry, to just bring it whenever he was free, but he would drop everything to come over. As he showed up within half an hour you would know he had done just that

~You could try to apologize or insist he didn’t need to go out of his way for you. You could have waited till he was free

~But as he tucked a hair behind your ear, your guilty resolve would quickly melt away

~He would mean every word, and wouldn’t hear anything against it. You can’t keep him away when you need help. Even if the situation is as lowkey as a simple cold

~”How do you expect me to get anything done when I know you’re here suffering?”

~If you warned him you might get him sick, he would still keep the same attitude: insisting he wanted to be there for you

~Every soothing smile and gentle hand on your back, arm, shoulder would weaken your argument. You both knew you wanted him to stay

~You would end up asleep in his arms, your head resting on his shoulder

~And he would be happy to pamper you through your cold

Player 333/Lee Myung-gi

~He would notice your red nose and fever flushed cheeks and would immediately feel a little tug on his heart

~No matter how much you insisted he should stay away because you didn’t want to get him sick, he would be able to tell you really didn’t mean it. He knew you well enough to be able to clock when you didn’t want to be left alone

~You two would end up on opposite ends of the couch, as a feeble attempt to keep himself healthy, playing video games

~But thanks to your cold your mind would be too foggy to really focus, and after the millionth time losing at Mario Kart you would finally quit

~You’d make him change the video game over and over again, not liking how much energy each took. He’d go along with it, not complaining. 

~You had no idea the amount of power you had on him at that moment. He wouldn't be able to say no to anything you wanted, feeling too bad for how miserable you seemed thanks to your cold

~It would be awhile before you admitted you actually wanted to sit and watch him play something instead

~As time would go on, he wouldn’t be able to ignore your sad, sick state from the other side of the couch. You would finally notice his state when he sighed loudly. You could ask him what was wrong, but he would only answer by pulling you onto his lap.

~”You’ll get sick.” “Yeah, I know.”

~You’d smile as he rested his head atop your own and wrapped his arms around you to keep playing the video game.

~If he noticed you getting at all amused by him finally caving, he would of course have to defend himself

~”You were sitting there looking miserable! It’s emotional blackmail.”

Player 230/Thanos/ Choi Su-bong

~Choi Su-Bong would come and get you the second you called, no matter where you were or what he was doing.

~He couldn’t be able to stop himself from getting anxious when you first called; sniffling, telling him you feel awful, and you need a ride

~He would show up in a matter of minutes. It would be so quick you could only presume he had sped to get to you. Of course, you’d already be feeling better as he smiled at you from the driver’s seat through the front window

~If you apologized, explaining you didn’t feel good enough to drive or didn’t want to take the bus, but he would shut that down immediately

~”Baby, I’ll come get you whenever.”

~He’d hold your hand the whole ride. It didn’t matter if he was driving with one hand or two, he wouldn’t ever signal (it was an argument you two had a million times). So you would let him intertwine his fingers with your own as you two would make it home

~He would of course make a pit stop along the drive at your guilty pleasure bakery. He would keep the car running after noticing your shivering so you could keep the heat going as you waited for him to come back

~Within minutes you would have a bag of baked goods on your lap as the two of you went home

~If you want medicine you’d have to remind him to grab that along the way too. Su-bong wanted to help you feel better, but the logical approach is not necessarily at the front of his mind

~If your cold got to you, and suddenly you were tearing up over how nice he would find it amusing. You would be met with a large smile and a laugh

~”You’re weepy when your sick”

~After some lighthearted teasing he’d wrap a hand around the base of your neck to bring you in for a kiss. You’d try to warn him, but he’d of course say he didn’t care

~And you both would spend the next few days getting over a cold together

Player 388/Kang Dae-ho

.

~Kang Dae-ho would come over the second you called asking for his company while you tried to get over your cold

~”I think I’m getting sick. Maybe… Do you think you could come over? I don’t want to be alone.”

~He would be at your place even before you hung up, which wouldn't surprise you even a little. What would surprise you even less is the arm fulls of cough drops and the tea he brought with him

~You wouldn’t have a chance to get out of bed before he was wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You would be lifted up a little bit as he tightened his grip around you and dropped his head into the crook of your neck

~”You definitely have a fever”

~Your close proximity would let him feel the fever radiating off you. He wouldn’t care though, immediately following up the hug by telling you to scoot over

~He would wrap an arm around your shoulder, telling you that you were stuck with him all day

~And he would stay true to his word. He would be hanging around, making you warm/good for you food, watching popcorn movies, and whatever else he could think might make you feel better/distract you

~Every time you reacted to his sweet gestures with even the most miniscule of happiness, he would feel immensely pleased with his efforts and how it was making you feel at least a little better

~And by the time night rolled around you wouldn’t really need to convince him. He’d stay over, more than happy to appease you in your clingy state

The Recruiter

~As soon as he finds out your sick he’d be showing up to bring you to his house

~He’d find it very amusing if you warned him you would definitely get germs all over his house. He would point out you did get in his car, so how worried could you really be?

~Either way, warnings or not, you would end up on his couch buried under blankets with your guilty pleasure tv show playing

~He would be lounging on the other side of the couch, his arm resting across the back, and biting back a smile as he pretending not to notice how often your gaze wandered over to him

~He knew how clingy you could get when you were sick, but he couldn't help but wonder if you would admit it yourself if he was patient enough

~And eventually you would mention you were cold, and he would offer more blankets or to turn up the heat. You’d give excuses for every offer till he would finally ask you flat out if you had anything specific in mind

~As you refused to cave with a sniffle and a “I guess not”, he would be the one to fold. He couldn't watch you suffer through a cold and pout on the other side of the couch

~He’d be pulling you over to cuddle, letting you bury him in your blankets as well, with an amused chuckle over how you absolutely did not fight it

~”But you don’t want me to get sick, right?”

~If you feigned innocence or pretended not to hear him over the tv show, he wouldn’t call you out further. He wouldn't’ have it in him to argue with you (even playfully) when you feel so under the weather

[colorlessjay]

hello! may be a weird request but do you have any fanfic recommendations?

BUCKLE THE FUCK UP

OH DO I HAVE SOME RECS FOR YA'LL

Mind you, 90% are based on personal preference and fics I think about way too often than I should. A lot of them influenced the way I make characters interact

Some of them might not be your taste and that's cool!

First off, Gotta promote the fics that people wrote inspired by my art (I am truly honored)

Time Cast A Spell On You by bethefirstwhoeverdid

Cabin of Feathers by Featherpie (Izupie)

Return To The Past by faeryn

NOW FOR MY COLLECTION

Just any fic written by everandanon

I swear to you, all of their fics are worth a read. They are frustrating (In a good way for me) but the worldbuilding, comedy, dialogue, and character interactions always have me physically getting up and laughing. At one point during Quarentantion, I had to stop reading to rant to my friends about it because it made me feel so much that I went to 3 different friends about it. With Interest actually made my heart physically hurt at certain points. Expectations had me on a roller coaster ride But if you think their fics are a little overwhelming, I recommend reading Casicorn. It's the first ever fic I read from them and it solidified my love for this author. I swear I am on my hands and KNEES waiting for them to finish their newest fic

Where All My Journeys End - (a Twist and Shout alt universe) by Say_It_In_Enochian

Did reading Twist and Shout devastate you? Did it emotionally hurt your heart and make you wish there was something to make the pain lighter? READ THIS FUCKING FIC NOW I got so fucking lucky when I found it immediately after reading T&S and when I tell you the JOURNEY this fic took me? It healed my soul The struggles, the history, the relationships, the LONG fight to get to their happy ending I am FLOORED this doesn't have 1000 Kudos!

The Ed Sheeran Effect by tricia_16

It made me laugh. That's it. It's sweet and funny and really fun and just feels very campy, like it could've been a decent movie I would rewatch on days I just feel like feeling good Am I a sucker for HighSchool/College AU fics? Yes do I fucking care? No

The Best Years of Our Lives, My Ass by ireallyhatecornnuts (CharleyFoxtrot)

I. fucking. love. this. fic The story alone was so interesting but it was the DIALOGUE that hooked me in. I swear I think about this fic in the middle of drawing and go "Damn, good times" like it's a long lost friend

Slide Away by Castielslostwings

It's the TENSION that got me. I can't explain to you how much I just love their hate-pining for each other Read it, love it, in my digital bookshelf

Sleep Without You by turningthepages

Hilarious. The density is so high it could float. I swear to god I've read this fic at least three times and think about it once a week I remember reading it and cackling so much that I woke up my mom

Should've Just Asked by Annie D (scaramouche)

I wish this fic had a follow-up that was just Dean's perspective because I would LOVE to read more of it. The situation is so absurd and I binged it all in one day (I'm a very slow reader)

Pinfall by crowleyo

I'm gonna say it. I'm so actually angry this fic doesn't get enough attention. It is so so SO well-written and heart-wrenching. Am I still a sucker for highschool sweethearts? YES! I OPENLY ADMIT THIS! But COME ON

Of fuming and partaking and so on by zation

This fic and literally any fic from Zation. I absolutely love the way this author writes. It's so funny and self-aware and the dialogue and scenarios always keep me entertained and laughing They have such a large catalog of fics that I'm pretty sure I have at least 15 saved on my phone

Mr. Blue Sky by anyrei, queerwolf79

This fic specifically and literally ANYTHING from these two. I swear, a lot of their fics are certified bangers. Mr. Blue Sky is probably a personal favorite of mine cause I actually teared up

Love Me More by Saiorse_Irvyne

I'm not the biggest fan of A/B/O stuff, but MAN this has me feeling things. When a fic makes me feel strong emotions, I just gotta recommend it

Lock and Key by tricia_16

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH it's THAT good

Kind Of A Forever Deal by komodobits

It's FUN. It's FUNNY. It's so fucking campy and cute and the progression of their relationship was just AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

It's Always the End of the World Somewhere by Annie D (scaramouche)

I can sit here and recommend Annie D's fics all DAY, but I'm recommending this one specifically because of this: “Get a room, assholes,” someone mutters. “Hey!” Crowley whirls on the offender. “I could set on you on fire!” And that's one of many fantastic quotes

Cinderwings by bendingsignpost

One of the first fics I've ever read from this fandom, and I recommend it to ANYONE regardless of whether they know Destiel or not. The story is so fucking captivating it makes me want to eat my foot it's so GOOD

--------------

Do I have a type when it comes to fanfics? Yes

But I like gravitating towards funny dialogue and silly shenanigans. I thrive off of fun fics that sometimes take themselves seriously, but still pull me back and make me laugh

If a fic can make me feel such a strong emotion that I PHYSICALLY have to get up? Then fuck yeah it's going in my archives

I would recommend some of the darker fics I have, but this is for fun

[pseudonymousposting]

Just use the word from before. You don't really need to worry about having a different word for everything unless the difference serves a purpose.

If your story is first person or primarily follows a specific POV or is told by a specific narrator, wouldn't it make sense that the storyteller is not a walking dictionary?

When people speak, they tend to have patterns anyway, and you don't notice them unless you're looking for it. I can refer to Hbomberguy's bit in his plagiarism video where he mentions that an AI asked to write a segment in his style uses the words, "buckle up." This points to how he uses that phrase often.

He jokes that this is because he's bad at writing. I beg to differ. The consistent use is really fucking good, actually, and I hope he doesn't correct for it in the future.

The pattern, when used specifically by him, has certain implications that will prompt a fan of his videos to notice when he is making a salient point integral to the theme he is conveying throughout the entire video. You also know that the example he is about to use is probably pretty goddamn funny, or notable, or egregious. Maybe you noticed that before. Maybe. If you've watched all of his videos, like twice each, at least.

If you're a fan of Dimension 20, it's quite likely you know all the words Brennan Lee Mulligan uses ALL the time.

Rad

INcredible

Hell yeah

All are little communicators from him as a DM. They're used so often, even casual watchers meme about it. Also Matt Mercer saying "how do you want to do this." Also make note, if Brennan Lee Mulligan starts monologuing with a question, brace yourself.

The use of these common, consistent, repetitive phrases actually communicates more. It would be ridiculous if Brennan Lee Mulligan got shy about using the same term and clumsily said "inferno affirmative," or something. Unless he was purposely doing it as a clunky bit just for laughs, and even then, doing it unprompted would just get a blank stare at this point. The repetition has a benefit, not a deficit.

Your peerless vocabulary is not the most important component of your craft. Your story is. Care less about finding a million different words to say the same thing, and focus more on saying what you need to say. Story good, not word good.

When people read a story, they might say "the plot was well constructed." Or, "the suspense kept me on my seat." Or, "I laughed so hard."

You know what they won't say? "There's was a nice diversity of words there. The writer did a good job of making sure they didn't use a word twice on a given page." I'd argue that if that's what a reader notices, the writer failed to craft a good story.

Complimenting a person on their extensive vocabulary is more a thing an adult does for a 'gifted' child. It's better to write an excellent narrative at a 3rd grade reading level than to write a bad story at a collegiate level.

Hell, it's better to write a good story at a 3rd grade level than it is to even write an amazing story at a collegiate level. You're communicating. Make sure you are doing so effectively first and foremost. Everything else is just fluff.

This falls in line with the thing where people will try to cap off quotes with unnecessary modifiers where "said" does just fine and is almost invisible. Y'know, the ol' "'snape!' Slughorn ejaculated." Why say many words when few words do trick, eh?

Not to say finding the right synonym isn't useful. Sometimes, a synonym carries specific implications or a slightly different meaning more suited to that particular use case. In this case, that synonym might actually be a better fit to serve your purpose.

Alternatively, it's possible the character could be more likely to use that word over another for any particular reason. It can speak to who they are in a way that can help you avoid a little exposition here and there. Hell, using outdated terms might do the same.

For example, a now deceased man who was an instructor before I flunked out of college, who was nearly 90 years old. I think he sometimes used stories from his career to try and provide a point without giving answers.

He started one such story with "there was this guy I worked with a long time ago. He was uh ambidextrous, yknow what I mean? Uhh, he was a switch-hitter or a uhh..a bisexual..."

I'm not gonna lie, I was fucking awestruck at the term "switch-hitter," referencing bisexuality. That term instantly made me a patriot for about two weeks. I'd never heard anything more apple-pie, bald eagle with a single tear, and inside the tear, you can see the twin towers, Ole Glory waving proudly in the background with fireworks bursting over the top motherfuckin AMERICA than "switch-hitter" meaning "bisexual" holy shit.

Anyway, shortening things, I flunked out, met my abuser, and fled town because I just couldn't live in the same town as them anymore. He called to check on me.

He told me he keyed in that something was wrong and felt the need to check in. He believed my story. He said a lot that helped me with my recovery.

Part of my story involved the fact that I'm trans, as queer relationship dynamics were, like, central to the abuse. Interestingly, unlike many people in their 40s, 50s, and 60s, this man pushing his 90s understood every single damn word of what I was saying.

I bring up this story because of the synonyms he uses and how we can think about their use in context. My mind trails back to the term "switch hitter," a 1960s slang term for bisexual used right after "Ambidextrous," an earlier term. Of course, the man immediately understood all this queer mumbo-jumbo I was saying and didn't flinch even a little about my being trans.

However, its use from a 90-year-old right after "ambidextrous" tells an entirely different story. It drops a hint that this guy may have been, at the very least, accepting of people who were involved in the gay rights movement during the time.

Desperately seeking a synonym for "bisexual" might yield you to terms which are today potentially offensive or harmful, but before the 1970s were descriptors that bisexuals would sometimes use to describe themselves. So, depending on who uses that term, it could be harmful, or it could be someone who fought against that harm long before that term ever had potential negative implications.

Also, note how many times I just said, "bisexual?" Did it feel repetitive? Probably not.

If the use of the synonym serves no purpose other than feeling like you need to use a different word, consider, "Why am I really looking for a synonym, here?" If it doesn't serve a specific purpose, then feel free to just use whatever word makes sense. If it matters for one reason or another, use that. Just use what works. This ain't a vocabulary test. You don't need to impress your middle school English teacher anymore. You're free.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

You mentioned how ace's dream was like a vague fanfiction addressing some fun fandom theories and ideas but I think whats the best part about it was how the progression up to that point made sense. Theyve dropped so many moments showing ace caring dearly for yuu to the point where this dream as fanservicey like that it was it feels natural for ace to have such a dream if that makes sense WAAGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

What did you think of the dream though ms raven? The dream made me wail so badly ough hes finally cried too m sure hes been through a lot 🥹 seeing cater talk to ace so sincerly it hits me so hard in the feels im so glad hes finally got to cry (a little anyways)

Ace’s dream felt like fanfiction, but at least it felt natural or like everything up to this point was leading up to this being his wish. I unfortunately cannot say that for several other dreams. Certainly ones definitely felt egregious or contrived. Some were largely fanservice (Savanaclaw Rook, dorm leader Cater, delinquent Deuce) or just excuses to make new cards (merform twins), even if it didn’t make complete sense for the character to wish for it.

dgjswvizjsowk I know you’re probably expecting me to comment on Ace in his own darn dream, but I actually have a lot more to say about Cater. Ace’s motivations + butting heads with the rescue squad were what I expected them to be (though I give him props for being the only character so far to resist waking up right away). More on my precursory thoughts in this post (but based the exact wording of your ask. I’d be tired to guess you’ve already read it 😅)! But CATER????? TELL ME WHY HE WAS THE GOAT THIS UPDATE 😭

Cater does SO much???? First he suggests the third years help Trey cook BBQ so the darkness is distracted while the others can isolate Ace and try to wake him. When that attempt fails, Cater pretends to agree with Leona’s proposal to leave Ace behind to bait Deuce to come after him to play as his support. Cater sitting down to have a heart-to-heart convo with Ace??? And then mercilessly using his UM to gang up on Ace and beat him up??? 😭 Him reminding Ace about his courage facing off against OB Riddle… Cater confessing he wanted to run, but being encouraged to join the fight because aaaaah his kouhai looked so cool and dashing!! Thanking Ace??? Finally verbalizing some of his feelings???!?!?!?!???! CATER PULLING ACE OUT OF THE DARK????? MY GOD… OTL ThE biG BRoTHER EnERGGY WaS SO DTRONgGGGGGggGGGGG

And he kept this up even into Trey’s dream???????? Where Cater once again does a TON. He volunteers to investigate since makes the most sense (he is a Heartslabyul student so it’s not shady to be in the dorm and his UM is useful for combat). Cater also the third years with him into the kitchen to have a look around. Him saying he’s impressed with Silver’s will and how he would’ve given up so much sooner if he were him???? Dropping interesting lore about Trey??? Cater admitting that he has always been a spectator and now realizes he should have done more than just watch events unfold???

CATER CONSISTeNTLY puTTING hIMSELF AnD THE THirD YEARS IN hARm’s WAy FiRST… StRAtEGIzING… mAnIPULATING… AND ACTUAL SELF-REFLECTION AnD SINCERiTY????

Cater got to shine SO much this update, especially in Ace’s dream. He really came off like a big brother figure to Ace. A little mean, but also able to be so very vulnerable with him. Him not wanting to give up on Ace even though he later says if he were Silver, he’d have given up on everyone a while ago… MAN. CaTER cARES SO muCHHHHHhhh 😭 This might actually bump him up a little in my tier list… I didn’t like him much before 💦

[utilitycaster]

I follow someone who peaced out of C3 like a month ago, and while she still throws out the occasional post about it, despite mostly running on ✨vibes✨ since pre-Predathos fight. one of her latest takes caught my attention. The wording was a little messy, but the core argument seemed like it might have a point. She’s saying the biggest issue with the story is a lack of internal logic, which makes the characters feel kind of disconnected from their own world and setting. Her main example was the Schism, like, the general idea that the Titans were bad news for mortals should be widely accepted, and they’re dead so they’re not coming back even if the gods leave. She also argues that the idea that the gods would always choose each other over mortals isn’t really backed up by history. Basically, she thinks Bells Hells ignore some of the fundamental structures of modern religion in Exandria, which in turn makes a lot of their arguments about the gods fall apart.

So I guess I’m wondering does it seem like there’s a lack of internal logic to you? C3 is my first campaign, so I’ve been piecing together older lore as I go, and I can’t tell if this is a niche take or if there’s some bigger context I’m missing.

Yes. Or rather, I have a couple of different guesses as to what happened. In short: I think that either Matt wanted to set up a big dilemma and failed to do the worldbuilding to really support it textually; he didn't have a clear vision of what this would be at all (HUGE fucking mistake, like, actually concerning me re: the potential of a 4th campaign level of mistake and I hope it's not that); or, alternately, and honestly right now my guess is that this was the case, he straight up did not think the characters would be such selfish dickbags and thought going in that this would be a clear "we have to stop Predathos" and intended the familial connections within the Vanguard and the scene in Hearthdell to be added nuance to provide some understanding of the Vanguard not as simply mindless evil monsters but people who have genuine grievances that have been exploited by predatory cult leaders, and was not prepared for a campaign where the party immediately took the Vanguard's side.

Religion in Exandria has never been super formalized or organized. Some of this is, of course, that you don't have to like, convert or even attend services if you have a relationship with a god. But as a result, it means that any exploration of religion as hegemonic falls apart. I am not saying religion needs to fit the regular daily or weekly practices many people irl have (depending on one's levels of observance), and those characters whose powers canonically involve a deity often do observe either restrictions (Caduceus's vegetarianism) or have some form of meditative personal worship, but we never see like, a system of worship outside of Vasselheim, and Vasselheim lacks the powers that the real-world pope has (let alone the medieval era pope). Tuldus was forced by his family to pray, but it's never depicted as part of How All Worshipers of That God are expected to behave. This is really the crux of a lot of problems with this campaign - people keep taking very individualized issues - which are real, but individual - and treating them as a sign of widespread oppression that simply isn't backed up by the text. In fact, the biggest case of widespread religiously-involved oppression is the Empire going after worshipers of illegal Prime Deities (as we see with the Schuesters - the parents are arrested, leaving their young children to fend for themselves) - and the biggest case of widespread proselytizing and missionary work is from the canonically theocratic (and ruled by one person for over a millennium) Kryn Dynasty, which, hilariously, might end up even more powerful given that the Luxon - the source of their religion, their philosophy and cultural practices, and their arcane prowess - has been brought up as relevant to the gods-become-mortal plan by the Raven Queen and seems to not be under any threat from Predathos, and might even get more powerful. Vasselheim's colonial efforts, while certainly not defensible, are small potatoes.

The player character's grievances against the gods all boil down to "I prayed to the gods and they didn't make my life better" while failing to consider that a combination of genuinely wild specific personal circumstances (being Ruidusborn; being the child of an elemental-worship cult with terrible instincts and later running a heist on a Vanguard collaborator; being a shadow sorcerer who caught the eye of an evil Vecna-worshipping wizard in need of a host body) are the root cause. It's like. If your parents kick you out for being gay, that's homophobia, but if your parents are part of a cult that blows itself up and you are orphaned as a result that is not systemic oppression, that is a very specific cult and shitty parents. So that fails to really ground them in the setting. Compare to campaign 2, where Caleb wants to ensure the Volstrucker program is brought to light and eliminated - as he says, no more children on the pyre - vs. here, where arguably Laudna and Ashton are opening the door to far more unregulated cult/evil necromancy shenanigans now entirely unmitigated by the gods. At least Imogen will probably end the Ruidusborn I guess, as a side effect completely unrelated to her actual goals (which are, frankly, unclear) In a campaign that talks about tethers, the characters seem untethered to anything - institution, place, even for the most part family, and only loosely to each other, and it shows in their lack of care.

The other part is that yeah, a lot of things that were given to the Mighty Nein and Vox Machina as "things people would know" aren't given to Bells Hells. Now this could have a mechanical basis, namely, no one has much of a formal education and most of them are also not terribly intelligent on their own. However, it does feel baffling that they can't recognize holy symbols, or don't know the story of the titans at the time of the Schism (which...setting aside the many issues with the concept of "history is written by the victors" which is both inconsistently true in the first place and is frequently used in an anti-intellectual manner to undermine historical study that points out such things as historical racism; just because history might be inaccurate that does not mean that wild speculation otherwise is necessarily true, especially since we do know from EXU Calamity that titans did, indeed, intend to side with the Betrayers against mortals at the start of the Calamity). It furthers this feeling, after Vox Machina being relatively educated even in a story that was not as worldbuilding-focused, and the Mighty Nein having multiple research-oriented characters and a party deeply rooted in a rich world, that Bells Hells feel off and adrift and ignorant, especially since they don't even seem to remember history they lived through such as the Apex War.

Honestly, what I think is most interesting actually is that we don't ever get anyone express a motivation based on structural oppression in-game. Ludinus never got over his parents dying in a war where the options for the Prime Deities were leave mortals to die or fight the Betrayers, knowing there will be devastating casualties, but in setting up his elaborate plot he murdered countless people, destroyed through his communing with Predathos the first rebuilt elven society in Western Wildemount, and participated in actual structural oppression within the Dwendalian empire for literal centuries; he cared not for any widespread liberation and would remain on top, as an archmage, after this imagined revolution, which makes it not much of a revolution worth having. Liliana's problems were caused by Predathos, and many of the Vanguard we see are Ruidusborn. The only other Vanguard we really get to talk to are Bor'Dor, who was oppressed on the basis of his religion and preyed upon by the cult; Tuldus, who see above; and various Paragon's Call members who are mostly just following orders and getting paid. And Bells Hells, when they have the audience of Vasselheim and the rest of the world - a golden opportunity to call out the colonialism - fail to bring up Hearthdell.

In the end, the motivations are all personal pain - in many cases, inflicted, in fact, by Predathos and not the gods - or vengeance. I honestly don't know if the narrative is trying to claim there is something deeper, or if it's simply some of the characters and a chunk of the least knowledgeable fans, but yes, the worldbuilding fails to support a morally complex narrative. It fails to debunk that which was established earlier (and indeed makes the fall of Aeor far more sympathetic than when it was introduced during Campaign 2) and fails to establish any widespread harm the gods did that wasn't the result of someone threatening to kill them. I do not think one can meaningfully debate with someone who puts a boot on your throat, presses down, and claims you're the oppressor when you fight back, nor with someone who argues along those lines, and that's all that fans and Bells Hells have ever done. And yeah we might actually make a world with a formalized hegemonic religion as a result of Bells Hells' actions; it just will be a different god, underscoring that this is either motivated by people who don't know what the fuck is going on; or by vengeance rather than justice.

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Aaaaaaagh I wanna write mechanisms fanfiction so bad!!!! I don’t know the character thoooo it’ll be so bad

[endykelopaedia]

This does still ignore that we don't have to choose one avenue or another when it comes to the intersectionality of this topic.

This post is about misandry being a bad "avenue" for sociopolitical analysis, not about "choosing one." you'd know that if you read the post.

I recognize in my experience as a latino that latina women don't experience the demonization that i do simply because of my gender.

and thats your fucking problem. First Of All you aren't even black so why are you here on my post on anti-blackness like this (and i did notice how you replaced all discussion of black people and anti-blackness with "poc" to get your nasty foot in). And second of yall YES THEY FUCKING DO. You really think being a woman of colour saves you from the racism you experience for their race in any meaningful way? You obviously a misogynist but you might actually be stupid too. Idk how long u lived as a woman or man but maybe go ask your grandma or sumn if being a woman made being latine easier. My exact problem w this misandry shit is how easily it becomes for you people to simply not think abt the women in your community and how obviously misogynistic it is to think their experiences of discrimination and violence must be softer than yours bc shes not a man. choke. moving on.

The darker you are, the more pronounced the fear surrounding you becomes, but it is also amplified by how masculine or feminine your gender expression is. I don't quite agree that "projected hypermasculinity" is the only cause of this.

i think its awesome that this non-black dude thinks he's in the position to explain colourism to me now. Also, I didn't say it was. You'd know that if you Read The Post.

for many poc, they are often in the cross hairs of white-enforced gender binaries. Many people in positions of power [even other poc] will use gender as a violent means to police us, often seeking to turn our own expression of gender against us.

you ever notice how in turning our gender expressions against us, there might be a pattern of projecting violence and aggression (traditionally masculine traits often praised in non-black people), that isnt actually there? This is masculinisation. This is racism. You'd know that, if you read. the post.

This intersection is important to acknowledge and I think very overlooked when poc trans macs like myself have been begging people to listen to us.

Ok. I'm a black i mean poc transmasc. Listen To Me! you are actively talking over what im sayin and barely listening bc it challenges the validity of misandry, a word that has apparently done soooo much for you, and me too obviously, given the nature of this post that you definitely read.

Also the section on adultification is sound. But very strange claim that "black people aren't actually masculine!"

Didn't say this. In fact i also very explicitly said black i mean poc adults also experience adultification. Try reading the post again, and applying my logic that you say is so sound.

Like???????? What about those who are? I have black transmasc friends who have extremely different experiences than my black trans femme friends and I can tell you that it absolutely is about gender there.

thats crazy. you're gonna bring black i mean poc transfemmes into this when the murder statistics for black transfemmes look like this? i wonder what happened there... i thought femininity was supposed to protect femmes from racislised violence...

Everything intersects with race in these conversations of course but there are those of us who are trying to communicate more nuanced experiences.

so sick of yalls "but my unique experiences!!" whinging. fuckin grow up n read a book. you arent the main characters. there are socio-political forces above you shaping our oppression and i am talking about those! i'm not your mother!!! think abt society outside of your feelings for 5 seconds n then get back to me!!!

ALL men benefit from patriarchy just as ALL white people benefit from white supremacy just as ALL cis people benefit from cisnormativity just as ALL rich people benefit from poverty. you think you're being intersectional but you aren't! you're just absolving your ability to perpetuate or benefit from a certain system in your own mind because you too are marginalised. being a man does not create a unique intersection with your race because men, unilaterally, are not oppressed for being men, no, not even sometimes, no, not even when you're black i mean poc or gay or broke or trans. and you can still benefit from misogyny against the women who are just like you.

Masculinity does not equal power.

Yeah ok. neither does whiteness or cisness or money or nun. nothing equals power cuz anyone can be oppressed for any reason. get fucking real.

There is the similarity of not equating feminity with powerlessness.

erm actually... you're the real misogynist for noticing how women are systemically disempowered by men instead of uplifting femininity (by refusing to acknowledge that women are systemically empowered by men) I Am Very Smart.

And Finally, lets talk about these tags a mo.

"white" "american" and i am very explicitly neither white or american. easy to guess from the way i write this post. easier to confirm from looking at my god damn bio. and thats how i know you arent serious bc you really think only white americans utilise male privilege as a concept? yk the feminist you haphazardly snatched "intersectionality" from was a black woman explicitly naming the way that the misogyny she experienced from black i mean poc men and the racism she experienced from white women was rendered invisible by both groups failing to acknowledge the intersection she had of being both black and a woman? of course not. you're an idiot.

"black people are seen as hyper-masculine and face a lot of violence for it, so yes you can be oppressed for seeming or being masculine"

AHT!! lets talk! black people are not actually hyper-masculine. hyper-masculinity is a projection by people trying to justify anti-black fear and violence. it is not a true and then demonised observation about black existence. the hyperfocus on the masculinity of black people is itself racism!

when you call this issue of racism anti-masculinity or misandry or whatever, you are obfuscating the bigotry at play. ESPECIALLY given that it is overwhelmingly just white women's fear about black people's supposed hyper-masculinity that actually gets listened to & acted upon.

in addition, there are other addendums people tack onto their anti-blackness that completely cause this logic to fall apart when applied. Namely, adultification! black people, black children get adultified by white society.

We are assumed to be older & more independent, and thus less in need of the safety, care, sensitivity, accommodation one would give to a child, and this results in violence and neglect. it is directly observable in the way black children are more likely to get detention, suspended or expelled for the same behaviour as their white peers, s/a rates for black youth, and the arguments that 40 y/o cops give for brutalising & murdering black 20, 16, 12, 8 year olds who so much as breathe in their line of sight.

Given this then, following the misandry logic, we can say being recognised as older or as an adult is a form of oppression.

"black people are seen as older/more mature and face a lot of violence for it, so yes, you can be oppressed for seeming like or being an adult"

we can for the sake of this post name this oppression adultery.

i kid. but do you see the problem. being recognised as an adult is obviously, not itself a form of oppression, in fact quite the opposite, being recognised as adult can grant you a lot of privileges that children do not have.

and black kids are evidently, not adults or people who act like adults. they dont mature faster. black 18 y/os will also face the problem of adultification to justify violence against them. black maturity is not a true and then demonised observation about black existence. the form of oppression is racism, and adultification is the deployed means of enacting racism.

the means of combatting the adultification of black people would not come in creating adult positivity or "advocating" for adults or telling children not to fear adults. it comes in the form of learning about anti-blackness, unlearning anti-blackness, and actually directly combatting anti-blackness.

similarly the means of combatting the hyper-masculinisation of black people comes in the form of learning about anti-blackness, unlearning anti-blackness, and actually directly combatting anti-blackness.

Racism explains both of this phenomena far better than "misandry" ever could.

[the-uninformed-zennial]

Okay so I wanna talk about the ecosystem of a fandom space like Fable/Bound SMP and those that extend off of it.

(long post below)

So one of the things that kinda stands out to me is that many of the popular ships are just canon. Like… off the top of my head the only two popular ships that aren’t necessarily canon in Fable are Kaleidoscope (Midas x Malitae) and Prison Duo (Centross x Icarus). But even one of those has been hinted at being canon by Sherbert in a few streams so like???

Looking at this from the outside it’s almost worrying. But the thing is, I think it has to do with three different things that are all unique to the Fable/Mer/Bound (and adjacent) fandom(s) and might actually be the sign of a really warm and welcoming community (as the Fable & adjacent fandoms have always been imo).

Firstly, the medium. If these were not lore-heavy, highly improvisational, live-streamed stories the fandom wouldn’t be able to provide feedback and the creators wouldn’t be able to react to said feedback in time to adjust. Think about Hermitcraft, it’s highly improvisational, yes. But lore-wise it’s not super heavy and thus all ships kinda teeter on the edge of being canon or not canon. Likewise smth like Whitepine where it’s recorded beforehand (and I think scripted??) doesn’t give the creators the flexibility to adjust the content in the same way the fandom is moving as quickly as the fandom moves.

Secondly, the fact that the creators interact with the fandom. Hi, hello, I’m living proof of this cause if I hadn’t gotten picked up by Heyhay and Art I never would’ve gotten to become one of said content creators. But this goes far beyond that. This has to do with the fact that they listen and interact and bounce ideas off of their fan base. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it, the opinions and ideas you guys share out here do influence the story, even if it’s just confirmation that you guys are picking up what the creators are laying down. It still serves as a sounding board to see how well things are coming across, and speaking as a creator myself (albeit a newer one) I find it incredibly helpful.

Thirdly, the size. Obviously if this venn-diagram of fandoms was as large as say Hermitcraft or QSMP the content creators simply wouldn’t be able to keep up with the fandom and many ideas would get lost in the jumble. Even just with how large Fable got at it’s peak, there came a point where it was nearly impossible to keep up with the amount of fan art and theories that were being made. So I think this point kinda feeds back into the second, that having a smaller size helps the content creators keep up with the feedback they receive from their art and lead to the fandom having more influence on the story than anyone really realizes.

These three things work together to create a space where people get to feel heard and seen. One of the most enticing things about being a community member for me was having that ability to influence the story, to talk to the characters themselves, to poke them about things I wanted to know the answer to. And when they responded?? It was so cool! I remember I used to keep a tally of little things in the world that I had affected because of messages that had been sent during live chat. It wasn’t ever anything big, but sometimes it’s the little things that count. That’s why, as a creator now I try really hard to interact with community members. I know I’m obviously not one of the big creators in this space, but I still want to help you guys feel seen and heard, because that’s where so much of the magic of being a part of this fandom space comes from imo. And if I can help recreate what helped me fall in love with this fandom space even a little bit, I’ll do what I can.

Anyway, I’m just super grateful to this community and the fellow creators within it. I have been so lucky to be able to get to experience this fandom from both the community member and creator side and honestly it has just been one of the most overwhelmingly positive experiences of my life, from both sides of the spectrum. I know things like that are fickle. I know fandoms and people are always growing and changing and maybe that won’t always be the case. But I just wanted to say I really appreciate the community that has been built here and all the work that goes into keeping it a positive and safe space. So, thank you guys 💕

[vixensdungeon]

Hello, my little woodland critters. Today just for fun I'm going to walk you through the process of generating a character for the original 1974 edition of Dungeons & Dragons. I'm just going to use Men & Magic for this one but might do another one later with the supplements!

First, we get some dice. Three six-sided ones to be exact. I'm actually going to grab some with pips rather than numbers because that feels more authentic. Then, we roll and record their sum, repeating five more times, generating six ability scores. Here we go!

Strength 9 Intelligence 17 Wisdom 12 Constitution 16 Dexterity 13 Charisma 13

Yippee! As a witch these make me very happy indeed.

Next, we'll pick a class to play. Based on the abilities I rolled I'm of course going to pick the magic-user (the witch class didn't exist yet, alas). And as a magic-user, I'm actually allowed to futz with the numbers a bit, removing two points from Wisdom to gain an extra point in Intelligence. This gives us our finalised array, and we can now know the effects of each ability on the character.

Strength 9: no effect Intelligence 18: +10% to earned experience, eight extra languages Wisdom 10: no effect Constitution 16: +1 to each hit die, 100% chance to survive certain spells Dexterity 13: +1 to missile fire Charisma 13: maximum of 5 hirelings with +1 loyalty

Okay, languages. The character speaks the common tongue of the continent she lives in, along with an alignment language. I'm going to pick Neutral as my alignment so that's the language I speak. I also speak eight creature languages, which I'm going to pick later.

For equipment, we're going to grab our trusty 3d6 again, roll them, and mulitply by ten to find out how many gold pieces we have. I rolled 10, so I have 100 GP. I'm going to buy a dagger, the only weapon a magic-user is allowed. In addition I will buy 50' of rope, a large sack (for treasure), a leather back pack, a water skin, six torches, a flask of oil, a small silver mirror, a bunch of wolvesbane (in case of werewolves), a bunch of belladonna, and a bug of garlic (in case of vampires, or pizza). Not sure what the belladonna is useful for but you can never be too sure. This leaves me with 48 gold pieces that I will use to buy rations when I'm heading on an expedition of some sort. To calculate my encumbrance, I add my dagger's weight in gold pieces (20) to that of my miscaellanoues equipment (always 80, though a referee is allowed to make sure this stays within reason), for 100 GP of weight. I'm well within the limit for light foot movement, which will likely mean I'll have the responsibility of hauling loot out of the dungeon. Maybe I should invest in a second sack…

As a magic-user of the 1st level, I am titled a Medium, and will require 2,500 experience points to reach 2nd level (Seer). I roll 1 die (six-sided), adding +1 for my Constitution getting a total of 2… Tha'ts how many hits my magic-user can take before death. Let's hope she rolls better on the next level, assuming she survives. She fights with the strength of one man!

I can memorise one 1st level spell for my journey. Not knowing what I might face in the dungeon, I pick something witchy that I think can really save the group's butts: Sleep. All level 1 spells are in my spellbook so I don't need to worry about which ones I can memorise.

And that's pretty much it! Now we just give the character an imaginative name… How about Naiviv?

Onwards to adventure and glory, Naiviv the Medium!

[tovibeornottovibe]

Deny! Deny! Deny! - Part II

Azriel x Priestess!Fem!OC

Thea receives a visitor in her office in the library. Azriel has something for her, and catches a break. They keep each other company for a little while. [3.9k words]

warnings: dirty thoughts, sexual fantasy, Thea being a horny mf, very, very implied sexual assault (one insinuation of it and absolutely no descriptors)

Part I

Prefer to read on Ao3?

Training that morning has made Thea sore. Her arms ache and she’s having trouble keeping her legs crossed while she sits on the floor and spreads out every letter Eris has ever sent her in front of her in a semi-circle. She’d use her desk but it’s covered in other books and papers and she doesn’t have the patience to move them. Besides, she works better on the floor. Something about physical grounding. The hard, dark wood of her little office sequestered on the top floor of the library digs into her thighs.

There’s nothing in these letters that Thea hasn’t already logged and told Rhys about. Still, familiarising herself with the way that he writes and what he responds well to is integral for when he replies to the request she sent him yesterday. If he accepts, and he will, he has to, then she’ll suddenly be playing with the Heir to the Autumn Court in real life. On paper, he’s a game. Like a fictional character she can imagine scenarios about and not deal with the consequences if she says something he doesn’t like. Now, the fate of her Court might rest on her getting it right and not pissing him off. Daunting doesn’t really cover it.

Azriel said nothing to her about it at training. Thea’s not sure if they’ve told Cassian and Nesta that Eris will be living in their house for a few days. She’d think that they might be in less of a good mood if they had; Cassian especially. Though he seems a gentle soul, if a little brutal with his exercises, she gets the feeling from Azriel that he’ll be in for a beating when they’re informed of the plan. If the thought of Azriel going at it in the ring with someone who can actually match him stroke for stroke weren’t so appealing, she might have felt bad about being the cause of it. Fortunately, she can save herself the guilt, and indulge.

Later. 

The quiet, strumming music from her symphonia keeps her mind ticking on something other than how Azriel’s throat bobs when he drinks.

Or how he grins and flexes when he takes off his shirt to spar with her.

Or how good it’ll feel when he tenses his fuckable thigh beneath her.

Hm.

She’s had sex since coming to Velaris. Not a lot, but enough so that the thought of it doesn’t make her freeze up like it used to. It wasn’t always good, but she always picked partners who could make her finish, so it stacks up well against the usual experience of casual sex that she’s heard people talk about when she’s people-watching in the cafés along the Sidra. They probably don’t expect anyone will hear them; they give extremely intimate details of their lives and Thea files their experiences away on her list of dos and don’ts. 

Stranger who sells sea urchins to the dockworkers in the mornings can’t get off unless she’s thinking about her ex. Other stranger with the twiggy hair will come every time someone licks the underside of his prick. Barista with red eyes thinks it’s hot when customers exchange sordid anecdotes of what they get up to in bed and think that he can’t hear them. Co-worker keeps looking at Thea’s tongue when she drinks her coffee and licks the rim of the mug to catch the droplets that fall down the side. 

Thea does it slowly on purpose.

Sex with Azriel is pure fantasy and she knows it. She doesn’t know his preferences and will never ask him. What she thinks about when she lets her hand slip under her waistband is based on her own imagination and what she can attribute to him after analysing the little things he says and does around her. The fact that he does the same is a bonus, and makes it so when she comes on her fingers and Az—! is what passes through her lips she doesn’t feel like she’ll be making him uncomfortable. It’s also somewhat satisfying to be the subject of his pleasure. She’s never seen Azriel hard, but she thinks it would probably be the second most memorable moment of her life so far. 

Her attraction to him, and vice-versa, has no conclusion but disappearance. Someday, she’ll be able to look at her friend and not wonder whether or not he’ll let her get on top of him or how he’ll shudder when she gets him to climax just by touching his wings. Their meetings in the training ring in the middle of the night will go from strangely charged to actual exercise. She’ll be able to read filth and not consider if Azriel will do that with her. Repeatedly. While he keeps her groaning muffled with his hand because his family are in the other room.

And someday, he’ll look at her when they finish sparring and not seem like he wants to bite her.

A flush creeps up her neck at the thought.

Catching the words Eris Vanserra signed at the bottom of the letters in front of her cools the heat coiling at the bottom of her stomach almost instantly. Thinking about the way Mor stormed out of the meeting yesterday kills it completely. 

She’s not sure Mor will ever forgive her. It’s funny because she and Mor aren’t friends. They don’t talk aside from when there’s an issue to take note of or a change going on in the library. And yet, Thea owes Mor everything for the life she leads now, even if Mor insists that she doesn’t need any sort of thanks, and this is betrayal. But if she’s right and this plant does what she thinks it will, then it’s a necessary betrayal. Thea can live with that. Especially as both Rhys and Az understand the reasons for it and don’t think she’s weak for setting a boundary. 

Leaving the library, training so hard in the mornings that her muscles get stiff, having sex with strangers now she’s strong enough to provide her own retribution if something goes wrong, these are things she can do. Meeting Eris Vanserra outside of Velaris, in somewhere like the Hewn City or in another Court, fills her with so much dread that she starts to feel queasy. She makes herself tea and sips it carefully, back on the floor, to calm her nerves.

There’s a possibility that Eris comes to the House of Wind, doesn’t appreciate the things she needs to do to understand this plant, and simply kills her. For some reason, the prospect of imminent death doesn’t scare her. Maybe it’s the tea. Or maybe it’s because Azriel would avenge her. He’d probably stop it before anything happened, actually. His shadows would detect Eris’ intentions and inform him that he needs to slit his throat to protect her. Thea doesn’t know if that’s how they work and intends to ask Az about it next time they can’t sleep.

She studies how Eris leaves his Os open and what that says about his personality for a good five minutes before there’s rapping at her door. 

Two short, sharp, decisive knocks. It’s not a style common with the priestesses, but it could just be one of the junior acolytes here to ask her a question or attempt to gain her favour with biscuits. What they think her favour will gain them, Thea doesn’t understand. Hierarchy isn’t something she concerns herself with, and it’s probably why she’s going to stay under the radar of the likes of Merril forever. Not a complaint. And the biscuits are always appreciated.

“Come in!” she calls, frowning at the way Eris crosses his double Ts in a single line. Determination, she thinks. Or stubbornness.  

Whoever it is at her door shuts it behind them and stands utterly still while she continues to stare down how Eris writes her name because it changes slightly every time. She pushes her reading glasses back up when they slip down the bridge of her nose.

“You do know you look insane, don’t you?”

She looks up to see Azriel peering down at her, tilting his head slightly with a kind of boyish half-smile on his lips, and blinks. That’s… not who she was expecting.

Since this morning, he’s changed out of his training leathers and into an expensive-looking black shirt and pair of trousers. The whirls of his tattoos that sometimes she thinks about licking the sweat off of are just barely visible, peeking over where the neckline of his shirt sits now that he’s undone the top two buttons. He’s rolled up his sleeves so the full extent of the burn scars on his arms are on full display, and Thea thinks that the Summer sun must really feel stifling to him or he’d be trying to hide them like he usually does. She shamelessly, but quickly, memorises the corded muscle of his forearms in this context. His shadows smoke lazily at his shoulders, a few dropping through the curls of his hair.

Clutching one of Eris’ letters, she gestures in front of her with it and asks, “What’s insane about this?”

He pauses for a moment, looking between her and the floor and the piles of paper on her desk and waits, tucking his wings in a bit more now she’s taken notice of him. In turn, she raises her eyebrows at him. 

“A grown female, sat cross-legged on the floor, squinting at paper with a perfect semi-circle of other papers out in front of her, drinking tea on the hottest day of the year so far?” he says matter-of-factly. 

Thea goes back to squinting at her paper. “Not seeing anything strange about that.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then—

“...No,” he agrees, “that’s perfectly normal. I do it all the time, actually.”

She hums, seeing that often Eris dots his Is with a downward slash instead of a point or a horizontal one. She isn’t sure what that could mean. “Floor’s comfier than a desk, Az,” she says. “You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll consider it,” he says.

Something clinks when it lands right in front of her, barely skimming the letter in her hand and bumping her shins where they’re crossed. 

“Don’t spend it all at once.”

Letter discarded at her side, Thea picks up the coin purse and fondles the bottom of it. “There are more than twenty marks in here,” she says, reminded of how Azriel gulped and smiled when she caught him under the chin with the tip of her blade this morning. Double or nothing pays off, it seems. She should make bets with him more.

“Your disarm was flawless too,” he says with a shrug, moving to assess the books on her desk corner. He picks up the one on the top: a paperback with a dark cover, frayed edges and tabs marking passages she likes to return to. It’s much thicker than a brick, but Azriel has no problem wrapping his hand around the spine. He flips it over and reads the blurb. “I think you might rival Nesta for the amount of nasty smut you read.”

“My tastes are better curated than Nesta’s.” 

Though she would never judge Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn for what they read, with Azriel, she has no compunction about complaining about it. Frankly, she thinks they deserve better fiction than what they waste their time with. The plot holes alone irk her, but sometimes she can work past them if the quality of the writing is good enough. Sellyn Drake, in her (correct) opinion, is awful on both accounts. She can’t say that to them. She knows them, but they aren’t so well-acquainted that she can recommend things to them, and Nesta scares her.

Azriel starts flicking to the pages with tabs on them and Thea has to force the screaming tendons in her thighs to move so she can get up and snatch the book out of his hands, ducking past his wing and jabbing him in the side so he doesn’t hold it above her head and out of reach. He barely flinches, just looks at her, a little bemused, and his shadows skitter behind him rather than get in her personal space. 

Despite her height, he’s still taller, and even though she’s built the muscles in her shoulders, he’ll always be much, much broader. Not as broad as Cassian, though. Azriel has a slimmer physique. Thea knows it’s probably not common for her to think about his tapered waist so often.

They’re very close and he doesn’t step back to accommodate her. He’s practically trapping her between the desk and his body.

She supposes she trapped herself, really. 

The heat coming off him is heady in the coolness of her office. Illyrians are clearly built for the cold. She wonders if the snow even thaws in the Steppes in Summer.

“Are you here for any other reason than to expose my reading habits?” she asks, folding her arms and leaning against the desk, putting the idea of distance between them. 

“I gave you what I owed you, didn’t I?” 

She rolls her eyes at him and he huffs a laugh. Thea’s never heard him laugh any harder than a chuckle, but she’s determined to make him crack one day. That, she thinks, would be the most memorable moment of her life so far. “Don’t be a pedant,” she says. There’s humour in her tone.

He looks at her like he might consider continuing to be petty, but then the lightness in his features dulls and he grows serious. “I have a present for you,” he says. 

From the low of his back, underneath the wing that he shifts so he can reach, he produces a bundle of something wrapped in black cloth. He manoeuvers it carefully and offers it to her. It’s heavier than she thought it would be, and, following his example, she cautiously grips what feels like a handle while she takes the fabric off it slowly, fold by fold.

“Oh.”

Gleaming, razor-sharp, silver steel glints in the low faelight. The ornate, carved hilt fits perfectly in her hand—like it was made for her. Along the blade, runes of a language she doesn’t quite recognise have been meticulously etched. She flips it in her grip like Azriel taught her to, and the heft of it seems exquisitely balanced, as though the dagger responds to how she moves it through the air by itself.

Eyes wide, she looks up at him to see him swallow thickly, watching her reaction. “For when Eris gets too close,” he says neutrally.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathes. “Thank you.”

What seems like relief washes over his face as he settles his wings against his back and looks away, but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t fade. “I figured it was time you had a weapon of your own,” he says, adding with a wry smile, “instead of pining after mine.”

She scoffs, though it’s a little shaky for her liking, and wraps the dagger back up before setting it down on the last free space left on her desk. “I do not pine for Truth-Teller,” she says, but it’s too forceful and definitely sounds like a lie. Of course, it is a lie. She’s incredibly envious of the fact that Azriel gets to carry around such a marvel of smithing work on his hip like it’s nothing. Now, she thinks, she might be able to do the same with her own dagger.

“Okay,” he concedes, “you long for Truth-Teller.”

Thea smacks him in the arm and shakes her head, not bothering to argue the point. It’s an unwinnable debate, and Azriel is relentless at the best of times. She slips past him and returns to where she was sitting on the floor. One look at her tea and she knows it’s gone cold. The letters in front of her suddenly seem much less important than the Illyrian shuffling on his feet.

“I’m serious, Azriel,” she says, increasingly aware of the fact she has nowhere for him to sit that will fit his wings and she’s starting to feel bad about it. Truthfully, she’s never considered it before because Azriel never stays in her office for longer than a few minutes, and he doesn’t come on a regular basis. Just if there’s something she needs to know, or if Rhys asks him to pass on a message. She didn’t even recognise his knock. “My floor is comfortable. See?” She stretches her legs out in front of her to prove her point. Her calves burn just from that.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, and Thea casts her gaze down so he can decide with some modicum of privacy. Then, she hears him lower himself almost silently against the wall nearest the door, and the fabric of his trousers rustles as he stretches his legs out so his feet are flat against the side of her desk. He relaxes his wings and she’s glad she brushed up the bits earlier so they don’t irritate them while the membranes curl against the ground. 

“Do you sit on the floor often?” he asks, resting his head on the wall behind him and closing his eyes like he’s got a headache. She knows tonics don’t work for him, but she almost wants to offer anyway. 

No point, she thinks, he’ll deny it regardless.

“Sometimes a change of position is necessary,” she says, turning her attention to the most recent letter Eris sent her. It’ll let Azriel sit without feeling like she’s assessing him. “Helps keep the mind fresh, you know?”

He hums in agreement and they fall silent. A couple of minutes pass with them comfortably keeping each other company while she reads and rereads and he enjoys the quiet. Thea thinks he might even be asleep, and that pleases her more than she could possibly have guessed.

When he next speaks, his voice is soft and low. He doesn’t look at her, just keeps his head pressed back against the wood. “It’s cooler down here,” he says. 

May the Mother bless him, he really is struggling in the heat. It occurs to her that she could tell him to wear something other than black, but Azriel is over five-hundred and is capable of dressing himself appropriately. If he was going to wear another colour, he would be doing it already, and he looks like he could do without her ribbing him for it right now. “The room,” she says, “is water cooled.”

“Summer Court?” he asks.

She nods, though he won’t be able to see it. “It’s a good way of releasing a bit of power without exerting myself.”

He takes that information in by eyeing her across the room.

“Explain how it works to me.”

“...Really?”

“You explain things so well,” he says.

So she does. Walks him through how she manipulates the air circulation to keep the water cool and flowing through the little pipes she installed in the walls one Summer decades ago. Tells him about the time one of the pipes burst and water leaked into the tea room below. It rotted one of the counters and she still hasn’t admitted to Clotho that it was her fault, which makes him chuckle under his breath. She says that, actually, being on the floor is the best in Summer because hot air rises and that’s why all the houses in her home Court have their bedrooms on the ground floor. 

“You know,” she tells him, “you might stay cooler if you stretched out your wings.” He gives her an odd look, so she continues, “You’d create more surface area and there would be better heat dissipation.”

That boyish smile is back, but his eyes are more sincere than teasing like they were earlier. “You just want to see my wings,” he says. Goes back to his presumably headache soothing position.

She shrugs. “They’re pretty wings. And I am right. It would keep you cooler.”

Thea catches the faint blush on his cheeks that she’s certain isn’t just from the heat. A second later, his fully flared wings are taking up three-quarters of the length of her office wall, and she hears a faint pop of air as they reach their full breadth. Her lips part as she watches the spectacle. They are a thing woven from the spool of divine silk, she’s convinced of it. What she wouldn’t give to know if they feel like leather or velvet…

“You’re staring,” he says, but his eyes are closed.

Thea shuts her mouth before she starts to drool. “You can’t even see me,” she grumbles, grabbing a pencil off her desk and writing some nonsense on the letter in her hand so it feels like she’s being productive.

“My wings are very sensitive. They can feel when someone looks at them.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” 

He’s not, and he knows that she doesn’t think he is, so he smiles and asks her if all the homes in the Summer Court have internal cooling or if she’s just clever. Idly, pretending that it’s just so she can refamiliarise herself with the concepts and not because she wants to impress him, she blabs on about the different ways they do it in Summer. He doesn’t seem to mind, and listens to her with a relaxed look on his face.

A good thing can only last for so long.

Eventually, he peels himself off her floor and they bid each other goodbye. She promises him that she’ll disarm him again next time they have training. He smirks and says, “I’ll have to stop going easy on you.” Though she gasps like she’s scandalised, she knows he isn’t going at full pelt when they spar. He would, simply, wipe the floor with her. One of these days, she’ll ask him to show her what that’s like. 

When he leaves, Thea’s happy to see that the slight hunch in his shoulders has loosened almost completely. He shuts the door gently. She absolutely watches him go.

Out of curiosity, she opens up the coin purse and spills the contents of it to see how much more he’d given her. Thirty gold marks. She laughs to herself and decides she’ll spend the twenty she actually won on a half-decent meal for herself, and the other ten on something stupid for him from The Rainbow. It’s his money anyway.

She gathers all of Eris’ letters—she really hasn’t been reading them since Az appeared—ties them back in a bundle and sticks them in one of the drawers in her desk that isn’t full of crap. She does the same with the dagger, even if it feels like sacrilege to squirrel it away, so that Clotho won’t confiscate it if she comes to see her. How Azriel managed to get it past her, Thea doesn’t know. It’s a secret between him and his shadows presumably.

Today, she decides, she will continue to shirk tidying in favour of finding a quiet corner of the library and cracking open the new crime novel she’s reading. Maybe then Azriel will believe that she doesn’t just read erotica.

Eris responds to her request to meet him in Velaris that afternoon.

taglist for you lovelies:

@dhcghbdscj @quantumquillz @batboyslutt @honk4emoboyz @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @anainkandpaper @casiiopea2

a/n: i really hope that worked, i have never tagged anyone before, also my b for tagging someone who didn't ask to be earlier, forgive me please?

[beautifullilacsky]

It was late, and he had to go to work early again tomorrow. Though, when he mentioned that he was trying to fall asleep after asking me if I am tired, I wanted to help in a way. So, I offered him a massage. Little did I know it wouldn't help him sleep soon at all. We started talking more, and at one point we talked about which parts of my internship I enjoyed, and which I did not. Based on the fact that I am enjoying the designing part, he thought it could be a nice idea to look into jobs in that region. Yes, he was right; I told him about the job that I found interesting; UI/UX designer. I explained it a bit, and he said that the back-end part sounded more like programming. Then, I hesitated for a moment but decided that this is the exact moment to say it. I guess I had been a bit scared. A bit scared he'd find it useless, or out of character, or ... I don't even know. Anyway. Now it was time to spill how I figured that for (a part of) this job, programming might be needed, or a plus. So, that is what I've been learning for the past 2 weeks. He asked what exactly I was learning, so I explained the app and the languages that I was working on. He fairly noted a couple of times that I was getting shy, which, I was. He said I really didn't have to be, asking me to come lay besides him again. "Are you doing it because of me? Or because of the CC thing?", I was happy to assure him that no, I did not learn this for him. He thanked me for telling him about what I've been doing these days. I thanked him that eventho he knows that people aren't using these coding languages, he didn't demotivate me. According to him, it is really good to know the basics. I don't remember the exact order, but I do know he told me I was cute uncountable amount of times, accompanied with many back kisses. Also quite a few "I like you"'s.

"You know, if you want, you can use my desk or we can get you another monitor". I hesitated a bit, being my comfizone self who is afraid the double screen will be so good I'll not want to live without it. He said he can only offer, and I said it'd actually be nice. "Okay, we will look into it tomorrow afternoon then". He also kept his appropriate distance, while showing me his support, by saying that if I had any questions, I knew who to come to. Yeah. If anyone can answer my questions, it's him. Mt smart smart boy.

Anyway. I thanked him for listening and I apologized for keeping him awake for long. He didn't mind it at all. Instead, he was grateful. He went on to touch me. "Hey, boyfriend, have you looked at the clock?". He again, didn't mind. He was awake, and so was I. If I wanted him to stop, he said he would, but I honestly didn't. After he went down on me for a while, I pulled him back up. He kissed my neck and asked me if I was okay. I was, but I felt the time pressure, making it harder for me to reach that point, putting even more pressure on, etc etc. "Oh no. You don't have to feel pressured; all you should do is enjoy. We have all of the time in the world, okay? Take all the time you need. Really, don't feel pressured", he assured me multiple times. I asked for teamwork, which allowed him to softly tell me more loving words, such as saying he liked me, how I was hot, and how I was being a good girl. After I finished, he asked me if he should stop, and that I could say "no" to the question if it felt good. He sucked on the skin of the area between my neck and collarbone as I came for the second time. That was insanely intense. He already thought I did the first time, but now I actually did start crying. He held me, making comforting shushing noices, "go ahead, let it all out. It's okay, you can cry".

A lot of back kisses, sweet words and a tiny bite later, I fell asleep into his arms. Sjeesj, he made me feel SO SO insanely safe and loved. He said all of the right things, and knew exactly what was going through my brain, using that info to calm me down. He owns my heart, and I wouldn't want it any other way. I am so sure that it is safe in his hands.

[vortexvn]

the courtney and taylor's sprites are done and ready to be implemented in the new chapter

whole script for the 2nd journal entry (totalling in 5 pages?)

done, will add the sketches and stickers after i'm done with introducing courtney and taylor, in part.2 they will act as your in-game companions ala Maya Fey from Ace Attorney

I majored in interior design and was trained on how to draw buildings both commercial and residential so the background came to me easy

mad dawgs backstory is that he was created in the 90s by out of date execs, he's basically the in universe poochie the dog

sketch for victoria's game over/ getting dumped screen

okay this is hella extra

so really really early on when i was conceptualizing the fan game i was thinking of a stalker-like character who follows vic around who might or might not truly exist,

they only appeared in her reflections and photographs and can only be seen from a far distance

the idea behind them is that she was a victoria who escaped a time loop (caused by max), kinda lost it, killed jefferson, went to prison and somehow found a way to travel through timelines

i dont hate the idea but i think it's overly ambitious and extra, more psychological horror adjacent when i actually wanted a casual cozy experience

maybe i'll revisit it in a form of an art dump or something