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I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears
I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!
The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.
More:
Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.
Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)
Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.
Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.
Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.
The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.
They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.
And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.
I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.
#and then. and im putting my most controversial opinion in the tags bc im scared lmao. but like... then... you have the fans..... doing......#the same fucking thing.#the amount of times I have seen Wriothesley used as just a side prop for Neuvillette to feel bad about shit. While Wriothesley is just.....#portrayed as having the inner peace and acceptance of a fucking monk. I was shocked when I read some fics I swear#they really said this man has no trauma at all! the stuff in his past? he's over it!#i hate that passivity when writing victims. like ok if One is written like that#sure. but MHY write all their victims like this#I mean look at fucking Lanoire#and Neuvillette sentenced him to prison after he killed his parents who were never confronted by the law. That's canon.#that's more canon than WRLT itself.#why weren't they confronted? did wriothesley try to talk to someone about it? why did he feel like killing them is his only option ?????#at least have there be some sort of conflict and friction there. How does Wriothesley feel about the court and Neuvillette when#this is the literal system that allowed all that shit to happen to him in the first place???#are you Sure he won't be at least a little wary? the fact that some people think he's Grateful to Neuvillette or even idolises him is crazy#because the man literally subjected him to prison. and if you want to portray his prison life as easy breezy and trauma free#you undermine his entire shitty little 'prison reform' narrative#and if you think he'd be completely 100% accepting of the justice system. Then why the fuck would he kill his parents himself#don't you see that the whole 'I'll accept whatever sentence in order to kill my parents' thing in itself is an act of defying the system#and I Hate#this idea. about being some of the most powerful men in the nation. and yet they can't fucking TRY to set up a better system or smth#i can't believe I read a fic where leaving starving street kids croissants is the most they (the characters and the writer) want to do#like. what the fuck. the whole point of that scene is just to make neuvillette feel bad and be like aw......... poor people exist.... OK???#this is literally how MHY would portray him though.... tbf..... This is what ppl would argue as 'in character'#I just think the character they're in is bad.#I will say I'm giving the fic a lot of grief. there's more to the scene than that. and. ultimately.....#fanfic is (saying this through gritted teeth) ........ recreational....................and free........... in the end.................#i dont think this is reflective of the writer. I do think it is reflective of the way the canon material (genshin impact)#presents in the audience who consumes it. most fans only want these guys to fuck anyway. not think about systemic injustices#canon doesn't make it about the systemic injustices either so why should we. the aesthetic of slums and prisons are just there for fun guys#IM JUST CRAZY OK. I SHOULDNT EVEN BE HERE THIS IS NOT FOR ME . I DONT CARE THAT MUCH FOR PEOPLE FUCKING AND I CARE TOO MUCH
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Me: *Goes multiple years without posting art and comes back as another species of deer.*
Anyway hi! I've posted a thing and I'm still breathing so in my opinion I'm absolutely winning. I hope to keep posting things in the future so be on the lookout for that. Have a nice whatever-time-it-is-where-you-are; I'm gonna enjoy some noodles and possibly go to bed before 4 AM tonight.
#My Art#Jouska's Art#Sonic OC#Sonic OCs#Jouska the Deer#Jouska Tangent Fluorine#StH#Food Mention#Tag Ramble#I'm gonna look through my blog and see about organizing my tagging system as well as creating a pinned post.#Maybe I'll do that while eating my noodles. I wanna change my blog colors and make a nice banner at some point too.#I also need to set up some stuff and start taking commissions before I run out of internet and food money but I'll worry about that later.#I should save the panic for when I have the energy for it.
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Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌
The Night Before Christmas
L&DS Boys X Reader
(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)
Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!
Genre: Fluff + humour
Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀
| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!
“Right! Let’s try this again.”
You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.
Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.
Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.
Try not to think about it.
You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.
The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.
New season, new start.
“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”
Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”
“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”
Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.
“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh.
“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”
“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.
The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”
There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”
Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”
“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”
He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”
None of your guests look perturbed by this.
“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”
Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”
“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.
“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”
The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”
“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”
“Second rule!” you chime.
“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”
Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.
You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”
Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.
This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.
Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.
What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?
That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”
You’re excited about the last rule.
Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”
Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.
You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:
No smirking, sass, or general smugness.
A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”
You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.
“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.
“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.
You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”
There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”
“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.
“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”
You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.
Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.
So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.
You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.
…
“What are you doing?”
Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.
“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”
Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”
“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”
“Am not.”
He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.
“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.
“No.”
“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.
Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.
To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.
“Absolutely not!”
Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.
You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.
“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”
Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.
“Give me the rest of it,” you command.
“Hmm?”
“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”
Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.
“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.
Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.
Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.
It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.
Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.
…
Rafayel isn’t looking too good.
Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.
You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.
“Would you like to go next?”
Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.
Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.
“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.
It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.
“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.
“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”
Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”
“You don’t have to—”
“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”
He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?
“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”
“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.
Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”
“As did I,” Zayne adds.
Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”
“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”
He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”
For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.
“That’s…” Zayne begins.
“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”
Sylus shrugs again.
“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”
“He lost it.”
���Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”
He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”
“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.
Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.
“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.
You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”
Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”
“Show me!” you insist.
The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.
You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.
The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.
Everyone is silent.
“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.
You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.
But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”
“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”
“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.
“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”
“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.
“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.
Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.
That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.
…
“I can’t believe you made you.”
It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.
“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.
“Is this really how you see yourself?”
Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”
“Except the other guys saw it—”
“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.
You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”
“Make me.”
You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”
He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.
“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”
Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”
His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.
“Inappropriate.”
The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.
“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”
“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.
Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”
He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.
“What did I miss?”
It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.
“Nothing,” Sylus answers.
“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.
You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.
“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.
Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”
…
“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms.
What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.
“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.
Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?
He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation.
“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…”
Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.
Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”
You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.
His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper.
You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers.
What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you.
Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.
Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins.
“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him.
Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.
They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy.
Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer.
“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.
But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?
Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish.
You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes.
“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours.
Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.
“No,” he confers softly, distractedly.
“No?”
“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.”
On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up.
“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs.
And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.
Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.
Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance.
“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you.
Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight.
Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)
Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too.
“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm.
It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s…
Perfect.
Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers.
You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there.
“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”
#🖋rach is actually writing#xavier x reader#zayne x reader#rafayel x reader#sylus x reader#love and deepspace#lads x reader#lads x mc#shen xinghui#li shen#qi yu#qin che#lads#lnds#l&ds
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🤔 Admittedly I was a little disappointed by the reveal (but certainly not surprised the foreshadowing was heavy in this episode lol), but not actually against how Beth (and Will) seem to be playing with it thus far- which is to say that I do think it has a lot of potential, and I suspect there's more to what we're seeing).
;) Big ol' ramble below
Mostly the theory has turned me off until now (at least insofar as I've witnessed it transpire in the fandom at large) because it struck me as so painfully ironic to see Trudy, a 1950s housewife, struggle to exist under the system that she's in, fail to fit the mold assigned to her, and be denied her personhood very literally for it (this being ironic insofar as how it mimics how she would have been treated back then). This and because frankly I just think she's a lot less interesting if she's fully a robot LOL, but I'll hopefully get to that in a bit.
Not that the hints at her mechanical nature and the relevance of Tucker's background were lost on me; I can appreciate why those would contribute to a plausible, fun and I think still mostly harmless theory (now fact). However, minus one or two specific posts I've seen on the matter (namely a recent one suggesting that if Trudy is a robot Beth is probably taking inspiration from The Stepford Wives, :( sorry person who made that post I couldn't find it I wanted to credit yoouuu), I've seen the theory just about exclusively presented in a manner that, rather than explore the metaphorical and political significance of Trudy being partially or fully mechanical, at best disregards the parts of her narrative that are at their core about sexism (among other related things), and at worst negates them entirely (i.e. Trudy only thinking and acting how she does because she's a robot malfunctioning and not because the world itself is causing harm and she rightfully wants something more than the role she was forced into, Trudy not even having any real thoughts and feelings of her own, etc.). I just think it kind of sucks to shove all those important things about her aside and say "actually, there's no person suffering here, she's just a robot" and perhaps worse yet to imply that she does have thoughts and feelings but because they result in Weird™ behavior it must be a problem with her code and not at all relate to what women were subjugated to during this point in American history.
CONVERSELY I don't think Trudy being a robot (or at least partially one) at least from what Beth and Will have presented us thus far, inherently suffers from any of these issues? First and foremost because Trudy definitely appears to possess sentience, thoughts, and emotions of her own, matters which immediately complicate her degree of personhood and don't inherently box her behavior in as a bug in her programming rather than an issue with the world she's been put in, quite the opposite in fact! I think they have a very solid groundwork laid out here to make a strong statement with Trudy's narrative (and perhaps ask the question of what is really malfunctioning here), all the more so since [I pull out a Rebecca Swallows-style conspiracy board] I don't think she's entirely robotic in nature? Actually you should just read Mack's tags in this post cause he has great thoughts on the matter (of which those are just some of them), but if I can direct your attention to one thing in particular, it would be Beth's fact (I *believe* from episode 2) about Trudy never graduating high school because of her essay where she suggested that "perhaps women could one day domesticate themselves", a statement that could of course be interpreted a number of ways but ultimately threatened the patriarchal status quo enough (in suggesting women's independence) to cost Trudy her diploma. Taken on its own this fact appears to contradict the theory that Trudy has always been robotic in nature, because it doesn't really make sense that Trudy would have been set up to go through high school (or school at all really) when Tucker's intention was/is for her to be the perfect housewife. You may then suggest that Trudy's memories of this are fabricated and not actually her lived experiences, in which case firstly perhaps you should reread my earlier point on the robot theory being used to actively negate and otherwise disregard the portions of Trudy's narrative that pertain to sexism and feminism, and secondly it really doesn't make any sense to me that Tucker would implant those kind of memories into Trudy's brain? To be completely honest if she's been a robot from the very beginning (rather than someone who became a cyborg, which is what I'm trying to suggest here), then I don't see why Tucker would program her with actual sentience in the first place (suspending my disbelief here with regards to the possibility of programming sentience to begin with). It seems much more likely to me then that Trudy was not always a robot, and instead altered by Tucker to force her into a role of subordination and remedy her """imperfections""". This option is significantly more interesting to me one, because it implies that Trudy has actually lived a life up until the present, full of its own complexities and strife (and dreams, and real actual memories worth exploring, etc.), and hence is not by any means "just a robot", and second because it amplifies the hypothetical statement being made on the lives of the real living women of the era and how they were treated and seen as being "in need of fixing" for not conforming to gender roles or otherwise acting "out of line" with what was expected of them.
OKAY THIS GOT OUT OF HAND SO I'M CUTTING MYSELF OFF HERE but I wanted to my share my current thoughts what with this ending and where I'm at so hopefully that was at least interesting to whoever has chosen to read through this one okay thank you byyyyyyyyye~
#BREATHES OUT sorry that was so much longer than expected#but isn't it always?#dndads#trudy trout#dndads spoilers#the peachyville horror#dndads s3 ep 4#dungeons and daddies#*mostly* I'd been keeping my full feelings on the topic to myself#but now that the cat's out of the bag aaah I felt like I had to ramble a little ehehe#ik I haven't been around much lately! This is for a variety of reasons#but rest assured I still give far too many shits about this podcast LOL#aaaaaand uuuh post#(also THANK YOU again Mack for giving me the little push of reassurance I needed to post this one haha)#undescribed#gotta add that later sorry :(
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leveling the playing field XIII
summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 4.2k
tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (both of them lowkey)
masterlists // nav // requests
a/n: nothing much to say other than thank you guys and i hope you like it :)
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You think you might die from this heat. The ice bag that Coryo brought you only lasted so long, especially when you shared it with the covey, which cut its window of efficacy in half. Both of you trailed behind everyone on the way to the lake, besides for Maude Ivory who found a very comfortable spot on Coryo's back. You should have thought to buy her some new shoes before the several-hour hike, but you didn't think that would be of consequence.
"How is Sejanus?" You ask, making conversation as you wipe the sweat from your brow. You'd like to gauge if Coryo knew anything more about your mutual friend's habit of hanging around with the wrong people.
"He's... yeah. He's fine." Coryo sighs, adjusting his hold on Maude Ivory's legs around his waist as he steps over a tree root.
"You don't sound so sure." You laugh, tilting your head up at him.
The bruise on your cheek wasn't red anymore, now healing into a yellowish hue that Coryo could hardly tear his eyes away from. He wishes you were still in the habit of wearing makeup every day, then he wouldn't have to stare down the result of his failure every time he looked at you. He shakes his head. "Well, I'll tell you about it later."
You just nod, looking down at the ground in front of you to make sure you don't trip. Now it was your turn to wish that the two of you could talk about what's going on between you. Whatever Sejanus is up to with Billy Taupe reminded you that even though you're far away from the chains of the Capitol, you still weren't entirely free. Even if now it was just free of the prying ears of a little blonde girl who loved to talk. "If you could change one thing about your routine right now, what would it be?" You ask, looking up at him again and squinting at the sun as it breaks through the trees above you.
Coryo draws his head back for a moment, confusion washing over his features at the seemingly random question. "Uh, everything. Next question."
"Ah-ah," You shake your head, hair falling into your face which you quickly pull back again. "Only one thing."
"Okay, fine." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Um... not sure, honestly. Maybe I'd have more success trapping those damn Mockingjays." He grumbles, looking up into the treeline.
You laugh, rubbing over the mostly healed scratches on your arms. "Nothing yet, huh?" Up until the point that you forgave him, you had gone out every night for almost a week, having learned a better system for opening the traps that didn't result in them cutting up your arms with their claws. Not so much as a thank you from the birds that apparently could speak, until you had started to thank yourself every time you reached around the side of the traps to open the metal, just so they would echo it back to you. You knew it was crazy, but it had become a fun semblance of a normal routine.
"Not one. Hardly any Jabberjays either, we think someone was setting them free in the night, they were easier to trap at first." He replies, smiling at you despite his frustrations about it. He couldn't wait until they could catch enough for Dr. Kay so he could start shooting them instead. "Rebels, most likely."
"That's annoying." You laugh, trying to hide the nervousness in your tone. "Why would they care about some birds?" It was a stupid question to pose, to poke holes in his only theory when it didn't already point back to you.
"They're hardly more than animals themselves." He grumbles, shrugging. "No, actually, I'd probably spend more time with you, if I could." He changes his answer and effectively, the topic as well. At this, Maude Ivory lifts her head from his shoulder.
"Are you guys in love?" She asks, turning her head so she can look at you now.
"Oh, no." Your cheeks burn as you laugh, shaking your head. "It's complicated big kid business, Maude Ivory."
"That's enough." Coryo chuckles nervously, spinning her on his hip and carefully putting her down. "Go bother the others."
The girl giggles, walking backward in front of you with her shoes in her hand. "It's why, I love you, you're as pure as the driven-" She starts to sing a song you were writing with Lucy Gray, knowingly taunting you, but you're quick to cut her off.
"Hey! Don't!" You laugh quickly, pretending to push her forward so she'll run along. "They've got some thin walls in that house..." You chuckle quietly, avoiding his gaze as you watch her run up ahead.
After a few moments of silence, Coryo speaks again. "What about you? What would you change?"
"Can I be uncreative and say the same thing as you?" You ask, cheeks still red.
"Sure." He nods slightly, a small smile on his face.
"Great, because those birds are starting to get on my nerves." You joke, bumping your shoulder against his arm.
He smiles, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I hate you too."
"Oh, hush. You know I love you." You freeze up as soon as you say it, suddenly it holds a lot more weight to it than your typical friendly banter.
At that, Coryo drapes his arm over your shoulder with a satisfied smile, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
"Can you tell me about Sejanus, now?" You ask, head placed on Coryo's lap as you lay on the dock. You had been out of the water for a little while, now, utilizing the sun to dry your wet hair and skin.
He looks back up to the cabin, seeing Lucy Gray and the rest of the covey scattered and picking plants or lying in the grass. "Uh, he just keeps sneaking off, and I found a good bit of money in his locker, but he told me he was broke so... I don't know what he's up to."
You sigh. "I've seen him hanging around Billy Taupe a lot. They're a sketchy crowd in the nicest of terms."
"Well, he is district. It doesn't surprise me that he'd associate with them." Coryo explains, distracted in a weak attempt at braiding a small section of your hair.
"He's gonna get himself killed." You mutter, eyes closed to block out the sun. You couldn't tell Coriolanus about how you ran into Sejanus a couple of weeks ago, knowing he would ask questions about why you were out at that time too. It's easier to lie to Sejanus than to him.
"It's not our problem if we stay out of it." Coryo tries to ease your mind.
"We can't just stand by and watch, though. It'll eat my conscience alive if something were to happen to him."
Coriolanus looks down at you, watching your calm expression form into something resembling worry. He chews on the inside of his cheek and nods to himself. He would have to do something, if Sejanus ended up getting in some kind of trouble, the guilt of knowing without acting will kill you. "Okay. I'll figure something out. I'll get him to keep his distance." He promises.
Days had passed since that interaction, and Coriolanus is crippled by the fear that he made a horrible mistake. He got the full story from Sejanus, and it was worse than he pictured.
You liked Sejanus, at least you acted like it when he was around. Coriolanus could always see that the district-born boy meant something to you, even if it was unclear based on the way you spoke about him when he wasn't present. Him running off into the woods with a bunch of derelect rebels was far from a viable option, Coriolanus wouldn't have it. He couldn't risk your reaction knowing that he told you he would do something to intervene.
He needed to talk to you. You were the only one he could trust to tell about the Capitol-bound recording he sent off of Sejanus' confession, or the news that his family had been kicked out of their apartment back home. He wasn't even sure he wanted to tell you. Coryo had been fighting this internal battle for what felt like ages, so maybe he could just include the basics, leave out his actions, and let you lift some of the tensions from his shoulders by telling him it would be okay. That it would all be over soon, and that you're proud of him for passing his exam. He could get the two of you out of this dump by the end of next week, and he couldn't get you away fast enough.
Unfortunately for him, when he finally arrived at the Hob on his night off you were already on stage with the Covey. You were laughing, dancing and spinning, occasionally joining Maude Ivory on her hip drum while Lucy Gray sang. The crowd loved you, and you loved the attention. He'd be lying to himself if he tried to say he didn't love watching you so happy, but the timing was inconvenient at best.
Coryo found his usual spot against the wall, sitting down next to Sejanus. He wasn't about to let him out of his sight, not anymore.
"Give it up for our friends in the band!" He smiles at Maude Ivory's excessive spirit as she holds her arms out to encourage applause before her eyes lock on him. Her face lights up more, somehow, and he greets it with a nod.
She turns to you while music is slowly tuning out, and gives a slight tug on the bottom of your new dress. It had been scuffed up in your fight with Ash, but you had cleaned it up nicely- hardly a stitch was out of place.
You look down at the girl, who just gives a slight nod in the direction of the wall Coryo was sat against. "He's here, you gotta sing it now!" Maude Ivory says, loud enough so you could hear but not enough to be picked up by the mic behind her.
You look very briefly over at Coryo, shaking your head at her as your cheeks turn rosy. "He's never gonna hear it." You say, leaning down to her level. "Who even says its about him, huh?"
"You can't trick me, Sage." She giggles, pointing at your nose.
"C'mon, lets do it!" Lucy Gray chimes in encouragingly as you stand back up. "I'll play for you. All you gotta do is sing."
You roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head again. "No, I-"
"Now, welcome back for her second performance with us, Sage! She's gonna take us over for a minute here. I promise, y'all are in for a real treat." You're interrupted by Maude Ivory making the announcement for you. Internally you cuss, plastering on a nervous smile.
"It's beautiful, you gotta relax." Lucy Gray says in your ear, already adjusting her hold on her guitar. "If I can sing a breakup song to the whole country, you can sing a love song just to the folks in this room. C'mon." She smiles, nodding for you to take the mic as Maude Ivory bows you in.
You'd played this song a bunch back at the Covey's home after Lucy Gray caught you humming the abstract tune of a lullaby your mother used to sing to get you to sleep when you were little. You didn't remember a single word, but the melody was enough for her to recreate and embellish it into one of their songs, to which she insisted you help her write the words for.
Coryo is leaning forward, elbows rested on his knees as he watches you. From what he knew, you weren't much of a singer. The redness evenly spreading across your cheeks and nose in time with the intro music was evidence enough of that.
"Sing for us, sweetheart!" Someone from the crowd calls out, which is matched with whistles that force Coryo to sit up to try and get a look at who the hell is yelling at you. His jaw is seized until he hears your voice echoing through the large room, drawing his gaze back to you on the stage.
"I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary. It's why I need you, you're as pure as the driven snow..." You look over his way only briefly while you sing the first round of the chorus, trying not to let your voice catch from the nervousness still pumping through every inch of your body.
He knows it before you're finished, but the last word, the one you didn't let Maude Ivory get to on the way to the lake, makes his heart flip in his chest. The eye contact he made with you as you said his name was so heavy with everything you've ever wanted to say to one another but never had, and he completely swells with pride knowing that it was about him.
"Cold and clean, swirling over my skin..." The inclination, again, to shout to everyone that you were his girl was immense and overtaking. Just like the first time, but now he knew it for sure. He was positive."You cloak me, You soak right in, down to my heart."
By the time you render the final verse, his whole world has changed."It's why I trust you, you're as pure as the driven snow..."
I'm gonna marry her.
He's up as soon as the song is over, heading for the back of the stage as you take your bow. Your smile is wiped when you look up and he's no longer there, and neither is Sejanus. Worry pools in your insides as you scan the crowd, giving a rushed smile to Lucy Gray and Maude Ivory as you jump down. You hurry to the back of the stage, brow furrowed as you search for Coryo.
By some miracle, he's there. If you're not mistaken, he's got tears in his eyes as he strides up to you quickly, the stage lights leaking past the stage to illuminate him just enough. His pace and his intense expression only worry you more. "Is everything-" You ask frantically, only for your question to be disrupted by his actions.
Coryo takes a deep breath, and then, as soon as you're within reach, he cups your face in his hands and leans in. The world around you seems to fade as his lips meet yours in a passionate, long-awaited kiss.
Time stands still, and in that moment, everything falls into place. The worries that plagued him when he walked in completely dissolved as he felt your hair in between his fingers. When he finally pulls away, a small smile graces his face.
You're both breathing heavily as you stare at each other, and it's then that you realize he wasn't crying due to any kind of upset. He was crying because of you. With a smile so real that you could feel the sun on your back, even late at night in this dim building hundreds of miles from the comfort of your collective home.
"Coryo..." You say, smile fading as you regain perceptions of your real life.
"I know, and I have so much to tell you..." He grins, leaning down to kiss you again.
It was your turn to interrupt, pressing a hand to his chest to stop him in his tracks. Tracks you so desired to follow, wherever they may take you, but right now you had bigger concerns. "No, no it's... where is Sejanus?"
He pauses, and it's like the spell is broken as he straightens his posture, looking around as if Sejanus should be right there. "Uh... shit." He had completely forgotten about his friend as he fell under the trance of your voice, of the song you were singing to him.
You're quickly out from under his arms, walking back around the side of the stage to go look for your friend.
"Coryo-" You stop, and he's right on your heels as you turn back to him, pointing toward the back wall. "Go check the bar. Keep an eye out for Billy Taupe. Obviously. He's probably with him." You instruct and he nods to you quickly before beginning to push his way through all the drunk people in the crowd.
You try and scan the sea of faces, but you don't see Sejanus anywhere. The music the Covey is playing is loud, drowning out any hopes you had of being able to shout for the boy. You could follow Coryo in the search, but that would no doubt just waste time. You groan, pushing your hair back out of your face in frustration. You shouldn't have stopped Coryo from kissing you again, if Sejanus wants to be reckless you should just let him. The two of you already saved his life once, was that not enough for him?
You glance down the deserted hallway to your right, and then your feet are carrying you toward the back room in an instant. You turn the corner and push the sliding door open when you hear shouting coming from the other side. "What the fuck is going on?" You ask, eyes flitting between Sejanus, and the two other boys in the room, alongside a girl who who you vaguely recognize.
"Y/N?" Sejanus asks, turning back to you quickly.
"Y/N..." The girl mutters to herself, rolling the name around in her mind and on her tongue. You can see it in the way she's looking at you. You ignore it, eyes locked on your friend now.
"I told you to not get involved in things you shouldn't, didn't I? Didn't Coryo?" You scold him, gesturing to the door.
"It's not- I didn't know they were going to buy weapons! It's not what I wanted, they told me the money was only for supplies, that no one would get hurt!"
"These are supplies." Billy Taupe's friend, Spruce, replies.
"Why would you trust them!" You spit, pointing vaguely at the other people in the room.
"Listen, Princess-" Billy Taupe starts, a bitter taste to his tone just as the door slides open again. Coryo's frame is blocking your view of the boy in a second, tucking you carefully behind his back.
"Talk to me. Not her." He hisses, and you grab his arm. The feeling of his skin under your palms is comforting, warm, and tense in your grip. "What are you doing, guns, Sejanus?" He turns his attention to your classmate.
"Coriolanus, I didn't know this is what they would do, they lied to me-" Sejanus starts his pleads for help again on a separate set of ears.
Unsurprisingly, his response is almost identical to yours. "You thought they would be honest? What are you doing? There are peacekeepers right outside!"
"That's what I said." You mumble in exasperated agreement "Why did you even give them money at all?" You ask, hoping to get some answers.
"Sejanus wants to run off with these dimwits into the woods up north," Coryo explains to you.
"What?" You ask, shocked, looking past him at the boy you've known for years. The thought of never seeing him again pulls at your heartstrings in a way you're unfamiliar with. "You can't. Absolutely not."
"You're not my Ma, Y/N!" Sejanus spits.
"Wait, I know you." The girl cuts in, pointing at you. "You're that missing girl. From the Capitol. Y/N Y/L/N. My dad got a call about you!"
You freeze up at the accusation, biting your tongue as you look up at Coryo. A memory flashes in your mind, that's why you recognize her. She's the girl who Lucy Gray dropped a snake on in the reaping- the mayor's daughter. "Huh?" You ask, trying to look as confused as possible.
"Don't play dumb, we're past that." She scoffs and you just shake your head.
"Genuinely, don't know what you're talking about." You relax your posture, crossing your arms over your chest.
"Well," She sighs, shrugging sarcastically. "I'll go tell my dad where you are. Your family sure is missin' you..." She starts to take a few steps before the back exit and you clench your jaw at her smug smile. You want to rip the hair out of her head and throw her body in the lake to rot.
"Mayfair, you can't leave." Billy Taupe scolds her, grabbing her arm which she quickly yanks away.
"This is ridiculous and confusing, and you act like I don't see the way you still look at Lucy Gray! Why don't you take her with you instead, huh?"
"She is coming, isn't she?" Spruce asks, seeming just as confused as you in a completely opposite way.
"You were bringing Lucy Gray?!" Mayfair shouts, shaking her head at her (now presumably) ex-boyfriend.
"She said she wanted to come!" Billy Taupe defends and you laugh, shaking your head.
"Okay, so clearly there's some major communication issues in this gang of misfits you've found, Sejanus, so let's just go and leave them to it. It won't benefit you to be stuck in the wilderness with a bunch of starving idiots who will kill each other in a week if they get too lazy to hunt." You plead with him and he shakes his head at you.
"Y/N, wait-" Coryo says, looking back at you only briefly.
"Yeah, Capitol Princess is right. I'm out." Mayfair says, raising her hands in defeat and turning to leave. "You'll all hang for this!"
"This power trip you have about your father being the mayor pales in comparison to what my family has. You'll all be dead by the morning if you say a word." You tell her, voice calm as she freezes, turning to look back at you.
"She's all talk, she won't tell anyone." Billy Taupe tries to defend her from the tensions rising in the room. You were concerned about getting sent home, of course, but if she told about their plans to run, everyone in the room would be executed come the morning light.
"Oh, you think I'm scared of you, Sage? You think I won't tell? Ask Lucy Gray." She's right, Lucy Gray had told you about how this girl was responsible for the reaping being rigged to result in Lucy Gray's death in the games. What they never accounted for was her strength, her intelligence, and her having Coriolanus Snow and Y/N Y/L/N as mentors.
And how Lucy Gray became a victor, known initially to most of the Capitol for her similarities to you. Only, Lucy Gray wasn't bat shit crazy.
Coryo's mind is reeling at the threat made to you as the girl starts to walk away. Within a second, before you can even make a move to tackle her, he's reaching onto the table and grabbing one of the guns. He lines up quickly and squeezes the trigger, letting the bullet fly square into the center of the girl's back. His training had paid off sooner than he thought. Coriolanus wasn't about to have you caught, sent back to a home much worse than that safety hazard at the edge of the Seam where you're currently staying.
"Mayfair!" Billy Taupe is quickly at the girls side, but she's already dead. Sejanus is shaking, and you are fighting back the smile that threatens to form on your lips despite the stress of the moment. "What have you done?" He screams at your friend.
"She was gonna get us all killed!" You defend. "You should be thanking him! Trust me, she was nothing special."
"You've got something comin', Capitol boy." He says, shaking his head as he looks up at the two of you, hatred filling his eyes. "You think you're gonna blame me for this? That you'll never get caught?"
You resist the urge to just shrug, agreeing that no, probably not. Undeniably, your best move would be to blame him. "He was defending all of us, can you not get that through your thick skull?" You settle on, keeping your footing as level as possible as Coryo pulls you back closer to his side again.
"If I swing, for this you will with me!" He screams in anger, back on his feet and moving quickly towards you as Coryo shoves you back behind him, lining up again. He didn't have to shoot, though, because Spruce does. The boy's body flings into the wall to the left of you from the force of the impact, slumping against the floor.
Your heart is pounding as you look between your two friends. "Sejanus, are you alright?" You ask, trying to approach him as Coryo starts shouting orders at Spruce to get rid of the guns.
"Hey, he's fine." Coryo grabs your arm, pulling you close to him to look at you. "I'm gonna handle this. Get back out there and sing, play the violin, just do something, okay?"
You glance back at Sejanus again, who is clearly panicking so bad he looks like he might faint. "No, I'm not leaving you, and Sejanus-"
"Sejanus is fine." Coryo says again sternly, shaking your shoulders now as he looks into your eyes. "Go back out there. I will handle this. I'll find you soon." He promises, gently pushing you in the way of the door. "Go. Now."
You swallow the anxiety sitting uncomfortably in the back of your throat and nod, glancing only briefly at your friends before you leave, closing the door quickly behind you.
taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world @nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney
i've closed my taglist for coryo now!! sorry to everyone who wanted to be added, but unfortunately there was significantly more demand than i expected and i sadly just can't tag everyone. BUT! if you still want notifications when i post for this fic, please turn on my post notifs!!
#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosas fic#tbosas x reader#thg series#hunger games#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow#coryo x reader#coryo snow#president snow
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D&D 5e being poorly designed issue #499:
Flesh to Stone requires three failed constitution saves to actually petrify anything, and even then requires ten rounds of concentration to make it last longer than a minute. Constitution is the most common save to have a bonus in in this system, and since it is a sixth level spell, this bonus tends to be quite high. As a result, this spell pretty much never actually does what it is billed as doing.
If the target does make their saves, this effectively translates into 3-5 rounds of a single target being restrained, at the cost of a sixth level spell slot and concentration.
The web spell, meanwhile, creates an area of effect in which any creatures that fail their dexterity saves are restrained. Dexterity saves are pretty common, but they have to keep making them as long as they're in the webs, and it's a strength check (rather than a save, so usually a lower bonus!) to escape. The spell requires concentration, but the maximum duration is an hour.
That's right. Web is objectively and unambiguously better than Flesh to Stone, despite being four spell levels lower. This is because the people making 5e wanted to get rid of save-or-suck effects, but didn't want to get rid of the spell names, and so nerfed them all to the point of uselessness. There is no use case for Flesh to Stone that would not be better served by Web or some other, notably lower than sixth level spell. You could cast Web with that sixth level slot, and it'd be a waste of resources, but it would still be less of a waste than Flesh to Stone, because it lasts longer, is slightly harder to resist, and can affect more than just one creature.
This is your game design on nostalgia and self-reference.
Yeah there's a lot of weird and conflicting ideas going on with spells in D&D 5e because they really lacked a coherent set of design goals: the designers seemed to have lacked a clear consensus on whether they wanted the game to be a balanced (albeit tipped in the player characters' favor) tactical combat game like 4e or an old-school experience with lots of nasty save or die effects. Part of the issue is that at an early point in the design process they decided not to take 4e's lead on monsters effectively having their own unique spells and spell-like abilities, and instead decided that the same spell lists should be available to both monsters and player characters.
And as anyone who's played 3e will tell you, when spells are as readily available and effortless to use as in Hasbro D&D and both sides have save or death spells available, it leads to rocket tag. And rocket tag is really not conducive to a fun tactical combat game that is supposed to be slightly tipped in the player characters' favor.
(Rocket tag is also the name of the game at higher levels in TSR editions of D&D and I feel it does harmonize better with the sheer amount of "fuck you" design in those editions. I think the assumptions written into the rules that combat isn't supposed to be fair or fun affects that very much.)
Anyway, so it's not just pure nostalgia, it's a combination of nostalgia while at the same time trying to copy D&D 4e's homework but not understanding the assignment. The biggest issue with D&D 5e in the context of all the various editions of D&D is that it had the benefit of more than thirty years of design and still ended up without a clear set of design goals besides "let's make the game that's the most D&D!" Like, ultimately as a dungeon game it's fine, but given the context of what's come before it should've been great.
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Last Sprout Dev Diary - Nov 22, 2024
Hello sprout folks! I'm Valerie, or @oneominousvalbatross, and I've been working on Last Sprout since July, and I'm wildly excited to share some of the things I've been working on with y'all.
Ignore that Twiggs' hat falls off that's natural.
I'm aiming for a Dev Diary once a week on Fridays, and I'm just gonna be giving a brief look into making a game! I'm learning how to do a lot of this stuff live, so I'm sure there'll be a ton of massive rewrites and changes. I have probably a dozen huge systems that are already built that I'm not going to be getting into in this post, since I'm already half a year or so into development, but I'm sure I will find space to include them later!
XP
I spent most of my time figuring out exactly how we wanted to represent XP in the world. We were pretty certain that we wanted XP to exist physically as a substance you picked up, so I started with a system from a previous build.
In that version, we just created a bunch of XP objects and scattered them into the world, then had some code that scooted them around. Of course, that means that we're tracking an individual unity GameObject for every single instance of a point of XP which is, uh, slow.
This is what we call 'suboptimal.'
So obviously we needed to not instantiate an entire transform every time we needed to spawn XP. Even if we re-used objects that would just be prohibitively expensive for an object that really just needs a position.
I'm not going to go over each step in the process, but after experimenting with GPU instancing to just draw a bunch of XP objects at once, eventually I landed on extending Unity's particle system, since it has a lot of the settings I wanted access to.
To make the XP move how I wanted, I wrote a pretty simple process that iterates through all the little blobs and checks how close they are to a designated collector, then uses an exponential decay function (with thanks to Freya Holmér) to make them move towards Twiggs.
I think every game should have an action that can be best summarized by making the noise 'SHWOOOOOP.'
Parrying
Parrying was a good deal simpler, but it still has its issues. Essentially, all a parry needs to be is a hitbox and an animation, with some callbacks to enemies to let them react to the parry. Whenever an attack hitbox intersects with either a Parrybox or a Hurtbox, it checks its tags to see if it's interacting with the appropriate entities, to makes sure enemies aren't hitting or parrying each other constantly. If it passes the test, it calls GetParried() on the intersecting object.
GetParried(), idiot.
For the basic behavior, parrying just interrupts the attack in progress and knocks the enemy back by a set amount, but there's room in the system to add all sorts of neat effects, which I'm sure we'll be taking advantage of in the future. It's been a challenge to juggle the various kinds of hitboxes, but it'll definitely be worth it going forward!
Of course, between all these bits there were a ton of bugfixes and little experiments, but that's a topic for a later dev diary!
#indie game#Dev diary#game dev#Last sprout#Last sprout: a seedling of hope#game development#game dev blog#game dev update#Roguelite#robot#scifi
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Starbound hearts
Status: I'm working on it
Pairings: Neteyam x human!f!reader
Aged up characters!
Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining
Summary: In the breathtaking, untamed beauty of Pandora, two souls from different worlds find themselves drawn together against all odds. Neteyam, the dutiful future olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, is bound by the expectations of his people and the traditions of his ancestors. She, a human scientist with a love for Pandora’s wonders, sees herself as an outsider, unworthy of the connection she craves.
Tags: @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog, @ratchetprime211, @poppyseed1031, @redflashoftheleaf
Part 9
---------------------------
Part 10: To touch
The outpost was quiet, the hum of its systems a familiar background noise as you sat on your bed, staring at the data pad in your hands. The words on the screen blurred as your mind wandered, far from the plant samples and bioluminescent analyses you’d been reviewing. A sigh escaped you, and you set the pad down, leaning back against the wall just to massage your tired eyes.
A soft knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts. One of the younger scientists, Brian, stood there, a boyish grin on his face and a bottle tucked under his arm.
“Hey,” he said, his voice light and cheerful. “We’re having a little... gathering in the lounge. You should come.”
You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. “A gathering?”
“Yeah,” he said, stepping closer. “Just the xenobotany team. Some drinks, some laughs. Maybe a game of truth or dare. You know, good, old-fashioned bonding. Kate said you’d be too boring to come, so... prove her wrong?”
You sighed, rolling your eyes at the mention of Kate’s teasing. “I don’t know, Brian. I’ve got—”
“Come on,” he interrupted, flashing a pleading look. “We’ve been stuck on this rock for years. You deserve a little fun. Just an hour, I promise. And if it’s lame, you can leave. Please?” he looked at you, clasping his hands together in mock begging. “We need you to balance out the chaos. You’re the only one who can keep Kate from going rogue.”
A small laugh escaped you despite yourself, and you shook your head. “Fine. But only because I love you guys,” you said, a wry smile tugging at your lips.
Brian pumped a fist in victory. “Yes! You won’t regret it. Promise.”
You doubted that, but you followed him to the common area.
*
The rec room was buzzing with laughter and chatter when you arrived. The team had rearranged the furniture to form a loose circle, and a makeshift table in the center held a few half-empty bottle of some kind of cheap Earth alcohol. Kate was perched on the edge of the couch, mid-story, her hands gesturing animatedly as the others listened, their faces alight with amusement.
“And then,” Kate was saying, barely able to contain her laughter, “the harness snaps, and poor Tim is dangling upside down, yelling, ‘This isn’t in the manual!’”
The room erupted into laughter, and even you couldn’t help but chuckle as you slipped into an open seat. Kate waved you over, patting the seat beside her. “There’s my favorite hermit. I was starting to think you’d forgotten how to socialize.”
You rolled your eyes, settling into the chair. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Norm passed you a cup, his smile warm. “Glad you could make it. It’s been a while since we’ve all just... hung out.”
Max, sitting across from you, raised his own cup in agreement. “Cheers to that.”
You smiled, taking an empty seat beside her as Norm handed you a cup. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing yet,” Norm said, leaning back with a smirk. “Just the usual chaos. Kate was just regaling us with her latest embarrassing memory.”
“Not embarrassing,” Kate corrected, pointing at him. “Hilarious. There’s a difference.”
Kate leaned in, smirking. “You know, back when Brian tried to impress a Na’vi by speaking their language and accidentally proposed marriage instead.”
Brian groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “I knew that story would come up.”
The room erupted into laughter, and even you couldn’t help but join in. The alcohol was cheap and burned going down, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. You let yourself relax as the conversation flowed, each story more ridiculous than the last.
You found a seat on one of the armchairs, sipping your drink as the conversation flowed around you. Kate was in rare form, regaling everyone with stories from her trainee days. One particularly ridiculous tale involved her accidentally gluing herself to a desk during a safety demonstration, and the room erupted in laughter as she acted out the scene.
The mood was light, the banter easy, and for the first time in days, you felt a little of the tension in your chest ease. You let yourself laugh, even chiming in with a few quips as the stories grew wilder. The alcohol loosened tongues and lightened moods, and before long, someone suggested playing truth or dare.
As the laughter died down, Brian leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Let’s play truth or dare.”
Kate groaned. “Brian, you live for this, don’t you?”
“You know it,” he replied. “Come on, who’s first?”
The game started innocently enough, with silly dares and harmless truths. Tyler dared Norm to eat an entire spoonful of powdered coffee, which resulted in a coughing fit that left everyone in stitches. Max was asked to confess the worst grade he’d ever gotten during his training, and he sheepishly admitted to failing a chemistry quiz because he’d confused sulfur and silicon.
The game picked up quickly, the cheap alcohol loosening everyone’s inhibitions and making even the most reserved members of the team lean into the fun. Brian, one of the younger members of the xenobotany team, was practically bouncing in his seat, grinning mischievously as he leaned forward.
“Alright, let’s start this properly,” Brian declared, scanning the room. His gaze landed on Kate first. “Kate! Truth or dare?”
Kate rolled her eyes but smirked. “Truth. Let’s ease into this disaster, shall we?”
Brian grinned. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever said to a superior?”
Kate didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, easy. I once called the lead botanist ‘Plant Daddy’ by accident. To his face.”
The room burst into laughter, Max nearly choking on his drink. “Please tell me he responded to that,” he managed between gasps.
“Oh, he did,” Kate replied, her voice dry. “He said, ‘I prefer Dr. Grant.’ I think I wanted to crawl under the nearest microscope and die.”
As the laughter died down, Kate rubbed her hands together and turned to Norm. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”
Norm raised an eyebrow, taking a long sip of his drink before replying. “Dare.”
Kate’s grin widened. “Alright, I dare you to chug this entire cup without making a face.”
Norm glanced down at his half-filled cup of the questionable alcohol, then shrugged. “Please. I’ve survived worse.”
The group cheered him on as Norm tipped the cup back and drained it in one go. He managed to keep a straight face for about two seconds before his entire body shuddered, and he sputtered, coughing as the burn hit him.
“Oh, god,” he choked out, his face scrunching up as everyone roared with laughter. “What is this? Paint thinner?”
“Close enough,” Brian said, grinning triumphantly. “But hey, you tried.”
“Alright, Brian,” Norm said once the chaos subsided, pointing a finger at him. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” Brian said confidently, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin.
Norm tilted his head thoughtfully. “If you could switch jobs with anyone here, who would it be and why?”
Brian grinned. “Obviously Max. Then I could slack off and call it ‘management.’”
Max held a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Excuse me! My job is integral to this team.”
“Integral to keeping your chair warm,” Kate quipped, and the room dissolved into laughter again as Max threw up his hands.
“Okay, your turn,” Max said, leaning forward with a grin turning toward you.
“Truth”
„What’s the cringiest thing you’ve ever done at the Omaticaya village?”
Everyone turned to look at you expectantly, and you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “My Na’vi talking skills aren’t enough cringe for you?” you tried to deflect.
“Nope,” Kate said, grinning wickedly. “Spill.”
You sighed, setting your cup down. “Fine. It was maybe... my fifth visit? I was trying to joke around with Lo’ak. So I... uh... I threatened to touch him all over his body with my creepy tiny human hands.”
The room erupted into laughter, Max nearly spilling his drink as he doubled over. “You didn’t!” Kate gasped, clutching her stomach.
„Oh, I did!”
“Lo’ak must have been mortified,” Norm said, grinning.
“He was!” you said, laughing along with them. “He jumped back like I’d just threatened to poison him.”
As the laughter died down, you felt a warmth settle in your chest. For a moment, the weight of everything—the pressure, the uncertainty—felt lighter. Here, surrounded by friends and laughter, you let yourself forget the complications of your heart and simply enjoy the moment.
*Flashback – 3 years ago*
The soft hum of the transport reverberated through your feet as you stepped off with Norm and Max. You adjusted your exo-mask out of habit, even though the fit was perfectly snug, the air filters working as seamlessly as ever. Pandora's lush, living expanse stretched before you, the vibrant greens and soft bioluminescent glows making your heart swell with awe—as they always did. No matter how many times you visited the Omaticaya village, the sight of it never failed to take your breath away.
You spotted Kiri and Lo’ak bounding toward you, their movements fluid and full of energy. Their excitement was contagious, and you smiled widely as they greeted you with playful enthusiasm. Kiri reached you first, grabbing your hand and tugging you forward as if you might bolt. Lo’ak, always the charmer, grinned his signature mischievous smile and gave a mock bow.
“Back to grace us with your presence, huh?” he teased.
“Of course,” you replied, smiling. “Who else would put up with you?”
Their laughter was warm, and you found yourself relaxing despite the faint nervousness that always accompanied these visits. You tried not to think about the towering figure lingering near the entrance of the Sully family kelku. You knew he was watching—he always was. Neteyam had a way of observing from a distance that set your pulse racing for reasons you refused to examine too closely.
As you approached, your eyes flicked toward him briefly, catching the faint light in his golden gaze. He stood tall and composed, his arms crossed over his chest, every inch the stoic warrior. Something about his presence was magnetic, grounding even, and yet it left you feeling like your balance might slip if you got too close. You quickly shifted your focus back to Kiri, letting her lead you inside the family’s home.
The interior was warm and inviting, the bioluminescent patterns on the walls casting soft light across the space. You marveled at the woven tapestries and carefully crafted furnishings, each piece an extension of the forest itself. The air was filled with the subtle scent of wood and earth, calming and alive.
“These are beautiful,” you said, your fingers brushing over a hanging tapestry. The texture was rough but intricate, the patterns telling stories you could only begin to understand. “Did you make these, Kiri?”
Kiri’s face lit up with pride. “Some of them. Others are my mother’s. She’s incredible at weaving.”
“She is,” you said, your admiration genuine. “I could never do something this delicate.”
“Maybe I can teach you,” Kiri offered with a grin. “But you’d need to come here more often.”
Before you could respond, Lo’ak piped up, throwing an arm around Kiri’s shoulder. “She should. She’s already half-Na’vi, the way she’s always hanging around.”
Your cheeks warmed at his comment, but you laughed it off. “If that’s your way of inviting me, I’ll take it.”
Lo’ak smirked. “Anytime.”
Still, you couldn’t ignore the way Neteyam’s gaze lingered. You felt the weight of it even as he stayed silent near the wall, his posture relaxed but his presence undeniable. He always seemed to watch from the sidelines, and you often wondered what he thought. Did he see you as an interloper, an outsider trying too hard to fit into a world that wasn’t yours? Or did he feel the same pull that you did—the unspoken connection that hummed between you whenever he was near?
“Neteyam,” Kiri’s teasing voice cut through the quiet. “Are you just going to stand there like a statue?”
You glanced at him, your heart skipping as his golden eyes flicked toward you before quickly darting away. His ears twitched slightly, betraying his discomfort, and he straightened, clearing his throat.
“I am just... observing,” he said, his voice measured and steady.
Lo’ak grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. “Yeah, big bro. Observing her, more like.”
Your face flushed, but you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “Oh, come on, Neteyam,” you said, gesturing to him. “Sit with us. You’re making me nervous, standing there like that.”
For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing your words. Then, slowly, he joined the circle, his movements deliberate. He sat a few feet away, keeping a respectful distance, but even from there, his presence felt all-encompassing. You tried not to let it affect you, focusing instead on Kiri and Lo’ak’s playful banter.
Your curiosity got the better of you as you turned to Kiri, her dark braids swaying as she laughed. “Can I touch your hair?” you asked tentatively. “It’s so intricate.”
“Of course,” Kiri replied, leaning forward. Her braids shimmered faintly in the soft light as you reached out, your fingers brushing over them with care. The texture was unlike anything you’d felt before—firm yet soft, a perfect harmony of the natural and the crafted.
“It’s beautiful,” you said softly, genuinely in awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Maybe you’ll have braids one day,” Kiri teased. “Then you can really fit in.”
Your laugh was light, but the idea lingered in your mind. You couldn’t help but glance at Neteyam as you spoke, wondering if he thought the same. Was he as curious about you as you were about him?
Kiri beamed, clearly delighted by your interest. “You humans have strange hair too,” she teased, her smile wide. “So light and... fluffy.”
You laughed at that, the sound soft and genuine. “I guess we do. It’s not nearly as beautiful as yours, though.”
Lo’ak snorted from where he was sprawled out nearby. “Kiri’s just showing off because her braids are better than mine.”
“Because I take care of them,” Kiri shot back, sticking her tongue out at him.
Their banter made you laugh again, the warm, musical sound filling the space. Being with them always felt so natural, so easy. You hadn’t expected to feel this level of comfort here, surrounded by a culture and people so different from your own. But with Kiri and Lo’ak, it was like you belonged, even if only for a little while.
Your curiosity was insatiable as you reached out to trace one of the dark blue stripes running along Kiri’s arm. The texture of her skin was fascinating—smooth yet firm, so different from your own. “Your stripes are so unique,” you murmured, your voice filled with wonder. “Do they mean anything?”
Kiri glanced at the lines on her arm, a thoughtful smile playing on her lips. “Not really,” she said. “They’re just... us. Like fingerprints for humans, I guess.”
“That’s incredible,” you said softly, marveling at the intricate patterns that adorned her body. Each stripe seemed perfectly placed, as though painted by an artist’s hand. You couldn’t help but feel a deep admiration for the natural beauty of the Na’vi, a beauty that seemed to harmonize so effortlessly with the world around them.
Your gaze lingered on Kiri’s arm for a moment before curiosity tugged at you again. You turned slightly, your eyes falling on Neteyam. He was sitting quietly, his posture relaxed but his presence commanding. There was something about him that always made your heart flutter, a quiet intensity that drew you in no matter how hard you tried to resist.
You knelt in front of Neteyam, your heart racing as your hand hovered just inches from his arm. The stripes on his skin were mesmerizing, curving and twisting in intricate patterns that seemed to pulse with life. They weren’t just beautiful—they were a testament to the connection he had to this place, to Eywa, to the world you were still learning to understand.
You hesitated, your fingers twitching slightly. “Neteyam,” you said softly, your voice quieter than you intended. “May I...?”
He blinked, his golden eyes meeting yours, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. For a moment, you thought he might say no, but then he nodded, his expression calm though you could see the faintest flicker of something behind his eyes—curiosity, maybe, or something deeper.
Gently, you reached out, your fingertips brushing against his forearm. His skin was warm, the texture smooth yet firm, and you marveled at the way the stripes curved along the muscles of his arm. You let your fingers trace one of the lines, following it with careful precision, afraid to press too hard, as though he might pull away.
“Yours are different,” you murmured, your eyes flicking up to meet his for a brief moment before returning to his arm. “The way they curve here... it’s beautiful.”
You saw his ears twitch in response, a small movement that he probably thought went unnoticed. It didn’t. The little gestures, the way his tail swayed or his ears shifted, were all things you’d come to recognize. They spoke volumes, more than words ever could.
Your curiosity got the better of you, and your gaze shifted to his hand. “Your hands,” you said, leaning closer so you could see more closely. You reached out without thinking, gently taking his hand in yours. His hand dwarfed yours entirely, the sheer size of it fascinating. “You have four fingers,” you said, your tone soft with wonder. “Not five like Kiri and Lo’ak.”
“It’s... normal for most Na’vi,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. It was almost hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure why you found it so interesting.
You turned his hand slightly, your fingers brushing over the rough calluses on his palm. “They’re amazing,” you said softly, tracing one of the lines that ran along the base of his fingers. “So strong.”
He didn’t pull away, but his tail flicked behind him, and you noticed the way his shoulders seemed to tense ever so slightly. You felt a twinge of guilt, wondering if you were being too forward, but his lack of protest gave you the courage to continue.
“Does it feel different?” you asked, tilting your head as you compared his four fingers to your five. “Having four instead of five?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he replied, and you couldn’t help but notice how quiet his voice was. “I’ve never had five.”
You laughed softly, the sound breaking the quiet tension between you. “Fair enough,” you said, glancing up at him. His golden eyes were focused on you, watching your every move with an intensity that made your heart flutter.
Holding up your hand, you placed it against his, palm to palm. The difference in size was stark, his hand engulfing yours entirely. “It’s so big,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I knew it would be, but... wow.”
The moment hung in the air, your fingers lightly resting against his. You could feel his warmth, the steady strength of his hand beneath yours. Your gaze flicked up to his face, catching the faint color blooming on his cheeks, the way his ears twitched and his tail swayed more erratically.
“Look at him!” Lo’ak’s voice shattered the quiet moment, and you turned to see him grinning, pointing at Neteyam. “His tail’s going wild! Big bro’s flustered because of her tiny alien hands!”
Your eyes widened in surprise, and before you could think, you turned to Lo’ak, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “Oh, so you want my tiny alien hands crawling up your body?” you teased, wiggling your fingers at him like claws.
Lo’ak’s grin vanished, his eyes widening in mock horror as he stumbled back. “No, no! Keep those creepy little hands away from me!”
Kiri burst into laughter, doubling over as she clutched her stomach. Even Neteyam, who had been so still and composed moments ago, let out a deep, rich laugh that sent warmth flooding through your chest. It was a sound you hadn’t heard often, and it made your heart ache in the best way.
You turned back to Neteyam, catching the way his laughter softened into a smile as he looked at you. His golden eyes sparkled in the dim light, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The teasing, the laughter, the noise—it all fell into the background. All that mattered was the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world.
Your own smile softened, and you felt a quiet joy settle in your chest. Neteyam had always been steady, composed, a figure of strength and responsibility. But here, in this moment, he was just... him. And it felt like a gift, one you hadn’t expected but cherished all the same.
You didn’t know what Eywa intended or where this path would lead, but as you watched him, you thought that maybe, just maybe, this was where you were meant to be.
Part 11
#avatar 2022#avatar the way of water#avatar twow#james cameron avatar#neteyam#neteyam sully#neteyam x human reader#neteyam x reader#neteyam x you
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✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩
All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.
Miraculous Ladybug
Open My Eyes by buggachat
Adrien smiles as he eats breakfast with Nathalie, smiles as he walks through the halls of his new lycée, smiles as people stop him on the street and tell him time and time again what a "hero" his father was.
(Adrien wishes he could've been a hero, too. He should've been. Maybe then his father would still be alive.)
(But he's surviving. Everyone may be treating him as though he were made of glass, but he can still go through the motions, he can prove them wrong, he can still smile.)
“And you’re… happy,” Marinette spoke carefully, a nervous tilt to her voice, “... right?”
(Adrien has some things to find out.)
DC
the good, the bad, and the power hungry by konan_konan
dim trake ☑ @timdrakeceo・8hr if one more person tweets about #superlex unironically im gonna end it all 391K Views | 200 Retweets | 13 Quote Tweets | 22.1K Likes
j-son of a bitch ☑ @jsntdd・8hr ↳ replying to @timdrakeceo hurr durr these are the consequences of ur actions bitch 201K Views | 109 Retweets | 4 Quote Tweets | 18.4K Likes
or: lex luthor makes bad choices. and then, so does everyone else.
call me cute and feed me sugar by suzukiblu
Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy.
This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.
Just a bank account, even.
how big, how blue, how beautiful by merils
Kon-El is not good with medical settings. One could even say he's quite bad with them. How bad, exactly?
Well, let's put it this way: Very few things in the world can make him scream for Superman to save him.
(Superman will save him. That's what family's for, right?)
Clone Wars
The Kenobi Chronicles by WobblyCat
General Kenobi isn't actually dead. Someone should really tell that to his troopers, though.
Or: The clones under General Kenobi's command have a groupchat dedicated to him. Cody wishes his subordinates weren't so fucking stupid.
SVSSS
Shen Yuan's Forced Shen Qingqiu Redemption Arc by SpicyReyes
The System's OOC function won't unlock all at once - instead, character traits have to be added individually, through quests. This leads to Shen Qingqiu having to jump through endless hoops just to complete enough side quests to unlock the ability to be a decent person - all while avoiding the effects it has on those around him. If only the cheapskate System wouldn't keep changing the cost of point values - he needs to know what the hell Yue Qingyuan told the others about him that makes them all look so sad when he does manage to be nice! He's breaking his back here, can't we just appreciate his work?!
second-hand alibis by nex_et_nox
"All right. I’m in Proud Immortal Demon Way," he says, once he's had a chance to compose himself again. He sits back up, tossing his stupidly long hair back over his shoulders where it belongs; he is totally calm and ready to grill the System for more information. "Who am I supposed to be?" Please please please don't let it be someone who Bingge violently murders. Though given the fact that he's a man in PIDW, his chances are already skewed, and not in his favor. Ugh. [Bound Role: Shen Yuan, Rogue Cultivator. Weapon: the sword Heng Li. Starting B-points: 100.]
or: Shen Yuan transmigrates as a rogue cultivator, one completely unconnected to any canon characters or events. Right, System? Right?
#my laptop broke :(( can i get an f in the notes#i'm using my super old one from high school rn and i am Struggling#my posts#weekly fic round up#fic recs#svsss recs#dc recs#sw recs#ml recs
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so i checked out your guidelines and you said that you like plot to be included too so i hope this isn't too much for you.
R is 11 here if that's okay with you.
can i ask you to write an avengers x teen!reader where tony adopts a kid from foster care and the team is trying to get her to open up but she locks herself in her room because she's used to moving from home to home or being abused in the system so she's scared to do anything normal like interact and stuff like that. when they showed her room on the first day she was hesitant to go in bc she's used to poor treatment. Wanda and Nat are the first ones to notice her behavior and they point it out to the rest of the team. they come up with a plan to help her but it only pushes her further away from them bc she isn't used to that much attention. they decide that when she's ready she'll come to them so one game night she tip toes downstairs and peaks in the living room to see them having a good time. wanda or vision senses her energy and she tries to silently sneak back but they invite her in and she reluctantly joins them. she isn't too familiar with the games they're playing so they teach her then afterwards they watch a bunch of movies and they're glad they can give her the family she never had.
Family
Summary: Sometimes it takes a while to find your true family.
Pairing: Avengers x teen!reader
Warnings: none
Word count: 1116
a/n: This is not too much at all! Thank you for the request :) (I’m sorry this is terrible)
Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore
Walking into an entirely new surroundings is always anxiety inducing, but it’s especially scary when the people leading you to your so called new room are the world’s mightiest heroes.
There’s two men and two women in front of her, she knows who they are, of course, but she isn’t going to bring it up. Surely they have already sensed it.
One of the men, Iron Man, or Tony, as he told her to call him, is talking constantly. His hands are moving up and down, side to side as he gestures to different rooms and what’s in them. He is walking right in front of her, creating a sort of barrier between them. Wanda on the other hand, is walking next to her, occasionally glancing down at her.
Y/N keeps her eyes on Tony’s back. She doesn’t want to look anyone in the eyes or seem too fearful by mapping out the place.
“And this here,” Tony stops walking and opens a door, “is your room.” He turns to look at her with a big grin.
Not moving, Y/N stares inside the room. The four of them keep looking at her, waiting to see her reaction, but they get none.
Tony clears her throat. “You can go in, kid.” With small steps, she goes into the room. “We know it’s a bit empty, but you just tell me whatever you need and want, and I’ll buy it.”
She doesn’t need anything. It’s not like this room will be hers for long. It’s usual for her to stay in a home for a month at best. So, it’s better to not get attached to anything or anyone.
Wanda has a frown on her face as she watches Y/N set down her tiny bag. She’s worried of the girl, but puts those feelings on the side, this is a big change after all.
“Should we leave you to settle in?” Steve speaks up when the silence starts to drag on for a long time. “Someone could come get you when dinner is ready.”
With a nod from Y/N, the four of them close the door and leave her alone with her thoughts. With no one around, she lets out a deep breath and starts inspecting the room. It’s bigger than any other room she has had, and cleaner.
It’ll definitely be harder to leave this room behind when the time eventually comes.
After two very uneventful days, Natasha and Wanda have started talking with the other Avengers how Y/N doesn’t seem to get better, even though they’re giving her plenty of space. So, they decide to try another approach.
Wanda knocks on the door with a huge smile. Some of the other team members are behind her with boxes.
Opening the door only slightly, Y/N peeks through the gap. “Hi!” Wanda waves. “We got you something, if you could open the door a bit more?” Her voice is gentle and on the quieter side.
Y/N opens the door properly. Her eyes widen when she noticed the others and all the boxes waiting there. “We bought you some furniture and decorations.” Natasha brings one of the boxes in the room. “Obviously, we don’t know for sure what you like, but I think we got some good stuff.”
She stays frozen on her spot, out of the way, staring at the others walking in and out of the room. There are so many of them at the same time. Y/N doesn’t understand what they’re doing. Is this a test?
In fear of being punish for a wrong reaction, she decides to not react at all. Her hands are shaking behind her back, but she doesn’t let them see her fear. She just stares at them with a stoic expression.
“What do you think?” Wanda asks once the things are set. “You can obviously change things around if they aren’t to your liking, but this is a good start, yeah?” When Y/N just nods mutely, Wanda’s smile falls.
A silence falls over the room. Very uncomfortable and heavy silence. “Well,” Natasha clears her throat. “We’ll let you be.”
When the door closes, Wanda and Natasha glance at each other. “That didn’t work out the way I wanted.” Wanda mumbles. “I really thought that’d help her get out of her shell.”
“Maybe we just need to let her be.”
She huffs. “I know, it’s just so difficult when I can basically hear her worries.”
“It’ll happen, lets just do it on her terms.”
A week goes by where it almost seems like Y/N pulled into her shell even more. She wouldn’t speak to anyone, or even want to physically be in the same room as someone else. One of the team members always had to go knock on her door and leave a plate of food in front of it, so she would eat.
Most of the team got back into their regular routines, though their worry stayed the same, but they couldn’t stand outside her door forever. Wanda and Natasha would talk to her through the door at times, even if the conversation was fully one sided.
Today, the Avengers decided to spend the evening playing different board games. It’s not unusual for them, as they like to do bonding activities together.
Tony knocked on Y/N’s door to ask her to join them, but only got a small head shake as an answer. However, after an hour and a half, Y/N opens the door carefully.
She sneaks towards the living room, being cautious not to make any noise. Stopping right before the room, she peaks in. All the team members are laughing and shouting together.
Y/N takes deep breaths to calm herself down, these kind of situations still make her incredibly nervous. Suddenly, Wanda turns to look at her.
Her eyes turn wide and she is just about to turn away to go back to her room’s safety, but Wanda speaks up before she can. “Hey, sweetheart. Do you want to join us?” Now some of the others turn to look at her.
With hesitance, Y/N starts walking towards them. They’re surprised by this, but try their best not to show it. “We’re playing Monopoly. You ever played it?” Tony asks as Y/N sits between Wanda and Natasha.
“No.”
“That’s alright, we’ll teach you.” Wanda smiles, putting one more pawn to the board.
Y/N stays quiet for quite some time during the game night, but when the evening goes on, she starts initiating conversation more and even leans on Wanda’s side at times.
Maybe this family is different after all, it certainly isn’t ordinary.
#marvel#mcu#mcu imagine#marvel imagine#mcu fanfiction#natasha romanoff#wanda maximoff#tony stark#steve rogers#the avengers#avengers#avengers x reader#avengers x teen!reader#avengers x female!reader#avengers x y/n#wanda maximoff x teen!reader#natasha romanoff x teen!reader#tony stark x teen!reader#steve rogers x teen!reader#fluff
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Like The Movies || Vinny Mauro x fem!Reader
PICTURE FOUND ON PINTEREST
SUMMARY: When Vinny and his childhood best friend Y/n jokingly decide to watch adult movies together, things escalate rather quickly.
WARNINGS: smut, MDNI, watching porn together, mutual masturbation, mutual pining, mentions of drug consumption, friends to fwb sorta, …
A/N: I wrote this last night, I don’t know where it came from… Maybe I’ll write another part. I don’t know yet! This is not proofread sorryyy
TAGLIST: @measuredingold @cncohshit @nerdraging4point0 @circle-with-me @tearfallpixie (i hope you dont mind me tagging you, i thought you would like to read this ♡)
Vinny was glad tour was over. Not that he didn’t enjoy it, he had a blast. But coming back home meant one thing for him. He would see you again. Vinny couldn’t remember a time where he hadn’t known you. Since he could remember, you were there. From kindergarten, where you beat up a guy that stole him a shovel while building a sand castle, to high school, where you were there for each other during the worst heartbreaks.
Even when he became the drummer for Motionless in White, you were there. You supported him through every life stage he was going through and it even came to the point where you bought the house next to his. You two were basically attached at the hip.
It was no wonder that when he was back in town, he visited you the second he had settled back in. There was this tradition, where to two of you would meet up, smoke some weed and talk about everything that happened during the time you couldn’t see each other. Nothing was out of the usual. Except… Everything was out of the usual this time…
It was a warm Saturday evening in July. The sun was slowly setting down and he had just come over to your house. Of course, it meant he would be here until late at night. As always.
Since the temperature reached their peak at this point, it was no wonder you only wore shorts and a crop top. Nothing Vinny hadn’t seen you in before, but this time he took a great notice in how good it actually fitted you.
As usual, you both had been smoking for almost an hour at this point and you were currently babbling about the most random shit that came to your mind. You enjoyed your time together as always. But you actually didn’t know how you got to the topic you were currently talking about.
“Oh, come on! You can’t be serious.” You exclaimed while handing him the joint. His cheeks were almost crimson red at this point. He was nervous. “You can’t tell me you really enjoy these overdramatic movies.”
“It’s not like I enjoy enjoy it, I just skip videos until I reach one that I can, you know, finish to.” He mumbled and let out a small giggle before he inhaled again.
“And you decided an old and corny eighty’s porn was the right choice?” You giggled and let your head fall onto the backrest of the couch for a second. It wasn’t unusual for you to talk about sexual events in your lives, considering you had gone through so much together, but hearing that he jerked of to something like that made you giggle almost uncontrollably.
“Oh, don’t make fun of me, I bet you watch that shit all the time.” He threw back at you, before putting the joint, or what was left of it, out.
“I’m not saying, I don’t watch porn, I’m just saying I try to keep my taste… Authentic.” You answered him honestly and shifted in your place for a second. Vinny did not miss how your crop top rode up a little and how it warmed his cheeks even more, but he decided to blame it on the drug running through his system.
“So, what’s authentic in your eyes?”
That’s when you noticed something changed. The energy in the room shifted. You looked into your best friend's greenish eyes and you noticed how they seemingly became darker. You knew he just wanted to tease you but something in his tone sparked your curiosity. Something in his attitude made you think he was genuinely interested in your taste in adult films; curious even.
“Should I show you?” You almost whispered, after contemplating your answer for what seemed like eternity. You thought about if it would make things between you and Vinny awkward but you ultimately decided against it. Nothing ever could make things between the two of you awkward.
You saw how his Adam's apple bobbed and you felt strange. There was this feeling in your gut, you couldn’t quite describe. A feeling you had never felt before when you were around him but you just blamed it on your not-sober state.
“Why not?” He mumbled quietly and you could have sworn how his gaze went to your lips for a second.
“Okay.”
Around twenty minutes later, you were gathered around your tiny laptop screen. You had finally decided on a movie to show Vinny but now that you were really sitting there, you were strangely unprepared and vulnerable.
A shaky breath escaped your lips, and you felt hot all of a sudden. There was something weirdly intimate about this thing. You felt dirty to some extent. You were about to show your best friend your taste in adult movies. You turned to face Vinny for a second, his gaze filled with an anticipating and curious expression.
“What if you find it weird?” You mumbled and his eyes immediately found yours.
“There is literally nothing about you that could surprise me in the slightest, Y/n.” He reassured you with a slight teasing tone. It took you a second to believe his words. But he was right. He knew everything about you. There was nothing weird about two best friends watching that stuff together.
“We can make a deal.” He then exclaimed and you blinked at him. “If we feel weird at any point, we just put it out and watch some dinosaur documentary or something.”
You laughed at the randomness of his media choice.
“What?” – “Dinosaur documentaries? Seriously, Vin?” Vinny smirked for a second before he lifted his hands in defends. “If you find it more comfortable, we can also sit in silence and stare at the wall.”
“No, no. You are right.” You exclaimed before holding out your hand which he took and shook lightly. “Deal.”
When you leaned down to load the video, you noticed how Vinny shuffles in this place. It felt like your heart was going to explode out of your chest.
Breathe, Y/n, breathe.
After a short intro that promoted the person’s OF the video cut to a couple in a bedroom. The naked guy was sitting on the edge of the bed, almost shaking in anticipation as the girl was slowly kneeing down in between his legs. Even though the video was filmed in third person, you could clearly see how she looked up at him through her lashes. Then she began to blow him.
You swallowed hard, not really knowing what to do. You sat stiff, not daring to look at Vinny for a solid minute. The only noise filling the room being the guy’s small moans and whimpers.
“Do you like when guys moan?” Vinny then asked, causing you to look at him with a surprised look on your face.
“What?” - “I-… I mean you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to but-…”
“Yeah… I-… I think I like it. When it comes naturally of course.” You mumbled and felt how your cheeks grew warmer.
You looked each other in the eyes for a second before he nodded slightly. The scene cut to him eating her out, their positions switched.
Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw that Vinny‘s eyes were completely glued to the screen. His eyes were wide. His mouth slightly open and he occasionally sucked his lip in to dampen it. You wondered if he enjoyed it.
You took a deep breath, trying to forget about Vinny sitting next to you, before looking at the screen again. They began fucking at this point. It was the first time you even noticed what watching porn was even like. You watched strangers chase each other’s high for your own entertainment.
You noticed the way the woman threw her head back as the guy pounded into her. She wasn’t fake-moaning, slight noises of enjoyment leaving her pink lips. Occasionally, there were words of praise exchanged between the two of them and you couldn’t help your mind wondering off again. You felt how your stomach started to heat up. You felt yourself shifting in your seat. You felt the way your mouth felt dry and you had to keep licking your lip to feel comfortable. The same way Vinny had to. You noticed how your nipples perked up slightly. How your crop top started to feel tight.
You were starting to get worked up and even though you put great afford into it, you couldn’t help but peak a glance at Vinny once in a while. His cheeks were tinted in a red tone and even though you tried not to, your gaze wondered to his pants. He was hard.
Your entire face and stomach went incredible hot at this sight, like you’d been suddenly standing in the hot summer sun. His hands that had become much more defined due to playing the drums so frequently, were laying on his thighs and he occasionally rubbed them against his black shorts like he was desperate to move them.
What shook you the most, though, was that you wanted him to move his hands.
You took a deep breath again, trying to calm your nerves. You couldn’t believe you just thought about your best friend masturbating next to you. You tried your utter best to lock those thoughts away but it didn’t even take a minute until your eyes settled back onto his figure. It intrigued you. He intrigued you.
You didn’t know how to ask him if he wanted to touch himself. You didn’t want to make it weird. But you desperately wanted to ease the tension in the room. You knew you yourself couldn’t hold back for much longer. Not that you didn’t have self-control but seeing him being so turned on by the movie, made you feel even more desperate.
Onscreen, the scene had totally changed a couple of times but you didn’t even notice one bit of it.
“Vinny?” You said, your voice sounding raspy. He made a quiet noise in response, almost sounding like a whimper. Fuck.
“You… I… I'm mean y-… You can…” You sighed before starting the sentence over. “You can touch yourself if you want.”
He swallowed and glanced over at you, looking at you for the first time since your whole dilemma had started. His beautiful eyes were dark and mirrored some kind of hunger, his cheeks flushed and you couldn’t deny how gorgeous he looked. “I-… I mean, you can too.”
“Yeah,” you gasped in response. “Yeah, it’s not weird.”
With that the dam was broken. Any clear thought in your head that would have held you back even in the slightest, was washed over by how ridiculously turned on you were.
You took a deep breath before you fingers slipped past the waistband of your shorts. You were soaking wet at this point. For a short second you coated your fingers with your arousal before placing them on your clit. There was no going back. You began to circle your clit, chasing your high as you closed your eyes.
“Shit.” You slightly moaned and threw your head back on the backrest. Even though your common sense tried to ignore the presence of your best friend next to you, you couldn’t help but focus entirely on the fact he was there. You slightly looked at him again.
You were hearing him. Soft noises slipped past his lips, his hand slightly rubbing along his clothed erection.
“You don’t have to be shy, Vinny.” You breathed out, “I won’t mind.”
“Really?” He asked. You nodded quickly and he let out a relieved sigh. He leaned forward for a second and slipped out of his shirt, earning himself a surprised look of you.
“I don’t wanna wash it, I have just put it on before coming over.” He explained and you nodded with a sheepish smile, realizing what he implied. You tried to hide how you swallowed hard. You knew you shouldn’t have watched him. It was crossing the lines of what friends should and should not do, but you couldn’t help but realize how fucking good he looked.
He basically shoved his hand into his briefs to get some relief.
Onscreen, the girl gripped the sheets of the bed to hold herself together, while you realized your hand at grabbed the small blanket laying next to you, doing the exact same thing.
Your mind was racing. You didn’t know if you should blend Vinny out completely or let your thoughts win. It was like you needed him to be there and at the same time wondered if this would change anything. You knew this was wrong deep down, you knew this was crossing a line but then he made this noise. This sweet and soft moan that escaped his lips made your head go blank.
You peaked over at him and noticed his gaze was on you. On your hand that was between your lips. You were on fire, your chest heaving.
You knew both of you should have looked away, but you didn’t want to. You wanted to watch Vinny. You lifted your fingers to your lips for a second and licked them, causing him to let out a loader moan. You couldn’t do this anymore.
When you moved them between your thighs again and pushed them inside of you, you felt like Vinny was about to crumble into a million little pieces. The pace of his hand became faster and you couldn’t help but look at his member for a second. God, he was big.
As you curled your fingers to find the delicate spots inside of you, you feared this moment would be over any second. You wanted to stay like this for eternity. Watching Vinny get off to the scene of you doing the same. You loved how he looked.
“Don’t stop, Y/n.” He moaned out when he saw you slowing down for a second and that alone almost drove you over the edge. You didn’t know if it was your horniness but you wanted nothing but to kiss him. It felt like his whines and whimpers turned you into some sort of monster that craved him but right now you weren’t even clear enough to filter out your own thoughts.
The sight of Vinny with his member in his hand felt like an intense experience. The sort of experience that made you want to change your thoughts on life completely
“You’re so fucking pretty, Vin.” You moaned out, not holding back in the slightest. “I wish I could feel you.”
If it was even possible, his cheeks turned even more red. You felt your whole skin prickling. The movie in the background long forgotten. You were staring into each other’s souls at this point. If he hadn’t known everything about you at this point, now he definitely did. And so did you.
It felt like a long-awaited event when you finally reached your high. All the tension leaving your body in such immense waves you feared you would collapse. You moaned his name loudly as your head fell back in the backrest.
Then the moans fell from his lips. It almost felt like you would cum again when you saw him cum on his chest for a second, but you pressed your eyes closed for second to calm your thoughts.
You didn’t open them for a couple of minutes until the volume of the movie in front of you was turned down a little. You peaked through your eyelashes, seeing Vinny had cleaned himself and put his shirt on again.
You slowly leaned forward and stroked over your clothes, trying to smooth them out, in an attempt to drown out your incoming thoughts. You were hyper-aware of Vinny’s gaze.
“Everything alright?” You mumbled, trying to ease the tension between you.
“Yeah…” He mumbled and ran a hand through his hair. “Good movie… I guess.”
You didn’t really exchange any words, before Vinny sighed and mumbled. “I need to go home. Ricky asked if we would hangout on Discord after I get home from yours and I don’t want to leave him hanging for too long.”
You nodded, trying to gift him a small smile but all of the sudden you couldn’t look at him anymore. Not that you felt guilty or something, you just feared that those feelings would bubble up again.
“If you want I can call you afterwards and we can watch some dinosaur documentaries together.” Vinny then suggested and you laughed for a second.
“Yeah… okay.” You mumbled and put a strand of her behind your ear.
After that he quickly got up and left, leaving you with your thoughts.
After you cleaned up your living room and showered you quickly got ready for bed and awaited Vinny’s call when you realized he had texted you the second he had left.
Vin: god this was so hot
He was going to be your death.
DIVIDERS BY @saradika-graphics
#motionless in white fanfiction#motionless in white fic#motionless in white fanfic#vinny mauro x reader#vinny mauro x fem!reader#vinny mauro smut#vinny mauro fic#collapsedglasshouseswrites
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I hope it’s ok if I rant a little about MHA because your post about Endeavor walking free reminded me of how detrimental some of the messages MHA can be. (I’ll try not to write much, feel free to delete this tho!)
It is so frustrating how the story doesn’t linger enough on the weight killing people that have yet to commit a crime, people that are a threat to the status quo, holds.
Sometimes I legit feel insane because people will be saying things like, “He could be a threat, so of course they should kill him.” And then talk about Deku and class 1A “changing the world for the better,” when the series doesn’t care to unpack its systematic issues past individual issues + the series essentially maintained the system that failed so many—resorting to reforms and expanding programs doesn’t actually solve the problem imo.
And it’s so hard nowadays to even try to have a conversation that entails criticism of the story, when so many fans fall for the condescending righteousness the story feeds as a response just because it came from heroes. Even though the story itself presents reasons why we shouldn’t blindly trust heroes (Endeavor literally right there) 🤦
Like, the story presents characters being oppressed and the ultimate response to their plight is constantly, “Just be a better victim.” The whole situation with Touya and Endeavor + what Deku says to Touya, is absolutely insane to me.
It made me sick to see people saying, “This is what Touya always wanted.” This is what people are taking away from the story, when many people who grew up being abused and didn’t fit the “perfect victim” criteria will tell you how fucked up that ending was.
Anyway, sorry for ranting. It’s so hard to find people who understands criticism in the MHA fandom 😭 The story has a lot of good points and potential, Hori just couldn’t handle it properly.
I am ALWAYS happy to listen to bnha rants!! I devour the bnha critical tag like a wild beast lmaoo
As for your thoughts, 100% agree. I feel like a big part of the problem is that the story spends so much time setting up systematic issues and then just..drops them? Acts like they don't exist? And instead it redirects all blame and reason to indovidual problems, like Endeavor for example. Touya became a villain because of Endeavor..but the conditions under which he became a villain could have been massively prevented if the ranking system didn't exist and if so much value hadn't been placed on it. Or if the wealth and privilege that being a hero had brought to Endeavor hadn't let people turn a blind eye to his bullshit. Because are you really telling NO ONE had even an inclination that something was wrong in that household? Really?
This also applies to Tomura. In the beginning The Walk where he spent some amount of time on the streets without anyone helping him seemed very important to his backstory. He didn't become a villain just because his father was a pos, he becane a villain because the state of heroism led to a society that glorified heroes to such an extent that people didn't help a bloody kid on the street because a 'hero would'. But instead most of his memories Deku interferes w are about the Shimura household instead of the very important bystander syndrome. And THEN to top it all off, we learn the stupid 'AFO orchestrated Tomura's whole life' thing. I cannot find the right words to express just how much I loathe that.
Anyway, Touya and Tenko are just two examples. Overall, the story chooses to resolve individual problems (and how well even those are resolved is certainly debatable) and frame them as the leading causes of villainy when its mostly systemic issues that cause it and then act like there were no systemic issues in the first place. I mean, literally no one has a problem with the HPSC casually having private assassins to commit extrajudicial murder, so. Guess Nagant should have just been "optimistic" and waited for someone to, idk, topple the literal government.
#tysm for the ask!!!#bnha critical#mha critical#anti endeavor#ask#anon#anon ask#todoroki touya#dabi#shigaraki tomura
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I was tagged by @emmg to do the first line/first page/whatever thing so HERE. I'm angry at my main WIP so I won't be posting that one but here's some nonsense I started writing on vacation. Woe, vaguely modernish AU wedding be up ye.
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Rook’s dress is long and beaded and everything she’s ever wanted or envisioned for her wedding. Emmrich, in that subtle yet insistent way of his, had made it so. He, it should be said, is in a no less elaborate outfit; dark purple, dripping in gold, a gorgeous silk sash wrapped around his middle and ornamental chains dangling from every conceivable part of him. The music he makes as he walks almost upstages the pianist. If Rook wasn’t already in love with him, this would be the tipping point.
Emmrich, however, conspicuously does not have a cathedral-length train to contend with. Very early on in the picture-taking process, they’d decided that the best way to tackle the situation was to keep Rook in the middle as a kind of central axis around which everyone else revolved. She stands between two massive flower arrangements and they cycle through all of the group photos with all the proficiency that the photographer’s hefty price point would imply.
They place Emmrich next to her and she looks at him like the new sun in her solar system and he looks at her like he never knew daylight before he looked into her eyes, and the photographer has to clear his throat three times before they realize it’s time for Emmrich to inch carefully around the train, yes Professor, thank you, we’ll get you back to your bride as soon as possible—okay, first group—
The first group is the girls. Neve, Bellara, Harding. They surround Rook in a warm gaggle, pet her hair and coo. Harding says she’s stunning while squeezing both of her hands, giddiness audibly bubbling in her throat. Bellara showers kisses over her face, overwhelmed with happiness. Neve softly, carefully arranges Rook’s hair at the most tasteful angle and fiddles at the chains around her neck—selected by Emmrich, of course; a funeral dowery fit for a bride—until they lay precisely, and these touches are just as affectionate as Bellara’s kisses.
“Okay, thank you, ladies,” says the photographer, loudly, because he’s learned his lesson. His vendor’s fee is in the five digits and he is exceptional at his job. “Groomsmen next, please.”
Davrin and Lucanis glue themselves to her, each winding an arm around her waist. Taash, who stood with the boys to even the numbers, positions themself behind her and asks what they should do with their hands.
“FLEX,” Harding says from off to the side. A table has been set up with snacks and drinks for those missing the cocktail hour, i.e. the wedding party. Harding has champagne in her hand, something bonkers expensive and authentically Orlesian
#Emmrook#Emmrich Volkarin#DATV#Dragon Age#There is literally no plot to this one except they get married and cry a lot
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A deeper dive into how the destiny system would work in a rewrite
Alright, little housekeeping before I get into it, I have finally created a tag for the hypothetical rewrite fanfic that I keep procrastinating due to college - so people can use the tag to either find the posts related to it or block it depending on if they like/dislike my ideas. You can now find it under #RamblesRevamp. Felt after posting the time loop au idea that I should probably start creating tags for these or else it’ll get confusing very quickly.
Moving on, I have come across the problem that every eah fan and fanfic writer has to face after thinking about the story for a while; just how in the world does the destiny system actually work?
The books and show give us some threads to make sense of it, we know it’s generational in most cases, and we know that signing the book ensures the story plays out again, but beyond that most things are speculation. It was definitely written as a looser magic system to ensure that no matter who was writing a special or a book for eah they would be able to bend the rules to fit the plot, but for something so central to the story it really feels like it should be fleshed out more. Luckly, this is the world of fanfic, and I am not beholden to make a story that can adopt different writers quickly, so I can world build as much as I want!
Below is a list of changes/rules/expansions upon the original destiny set up we were given that the Revamp AU follows. These rules are what the average character in the revamp AU would know:
Rule 1: Destiny is understood to be a set of two cycles, one for fairy tales that need to be retold every generation (snow white, goldilocks, etc.), and one for the greater myths that covers universal creation to universal destruction and would happen over billions of years (Greek myths like cupid would be here). Here's a very quickly made visual example:
Behold! the Destiny Cycle, or Narrative Cycle as it’s sometimes called. When we start the story with Apple and Raven, they are on fairytale cycle number 1,017. No one knows how many myths cycle’s the universe has gone through since that encompasses the creation and destruction of the universe, but scholars enjoy debating about it and saying a person “thinks they know how many cycles the universe has gone through” is akin to saying a person thinks they know everything.
Rule 2:
Oftentimes in fairy tales the characters have set ages that are much younger or older than what someone who just graduated high school would be referred to as, such as little red riding hood and Hansel and Gretel being referred to as children, or other characters being referred to as old kings or hags. However, having everyone complete their stories at the age they would be in our version of the fairytales would negate the whole point of a high school to prepare students for redoing those stories. In the revamp au the storybook of legends gets around this by comparing the character’s ages not to each other or to a timeline but rather to itself.
You see, the book is magic, it somehow holds signatures from every generation with an individual page for each character and yet looks to be the same size as a standard textbook. In essence, it is a non-Euclidian object, not tied to rational laws of time or space. If the book wants, a character can seem like a young child to it, it’s been around since the start of the cycle! And if it needs to write a character as old, then that character can seem old in comparison to it, it’s a magic object that for all anyone knows popped into existence with a new cycle last Thursday! It isn’t bound to time the same way the characters are, so it can get away with fudging the ages a bit when writing each generation's version of the stories down.
Rule 3:
In ever after, there are 2 kinds of people, the common folk and the destined.
All destined regardless of birth order have a destiny, but what type is dependent on various factors. For Example, there are two types of destinies in the land of ever after, blood bonded and soul bonded. Blood bonded destinies are the most common, they’re what happens when a character's first child takes on the same exact destiny for the next fairytale cycle. Apple, Raven, and many others fall into this category. Then there are Soul bonded destinies, which are either destinies that have a role in the fairytale cycle but aren’t exactly the same as your parents, or in extremely rare cases destinies bestowed upon a person from a non-destiny family.
The Charming's are a good example of the former. The original blood bonded destiny of Siegfried passed down to Grandpa Auspicious's eldest son, but he had no other destiny to pass down to the younger children. Because they are a part of the destined, however, all the children needed destinies, so the book bestowed soul destinies of being prince charming's and damsels in distress onto them. Their children in turn also got soul destinies, which is why the Charming’s know what their general role in stories will be but not the exact character (with the exception of daring, which I will explain in a bit).
The latter, the case of a soul bonded destiny going to someone not already part of a destined bloodline is extremely rare, but does occur occasionally, especially when an old charming line dies out. You see, to keep the destined bloodlines from getting too interconnected, those with familial soul destinies like Charming's will often have fewer children as generations go by because fertility issues set in. Eventually, the blood line will either no longer be able to produce children or will produce merely 1 every 1-2 generations or so. When this happens, a new charming family might rise from the common folk in the form of a rags to riches prince story like the penniless owner of puss in boots. Again, this is really rare, but is also why the Charming's push for Daring, Dexter, and Darling to have prominent destinies. The sooner they marry into blood bonded destined families the less likely their bloodline is to disappear or thin out.
You can have a family with both blood bonded and soul bonded destinies. Holly as the presumed oldest got the blood bonded destiny of Rapunzel, but Poppy as the younger one has an unknown soul bonded destiny, assumed to be a damsel due to her royal blood but no one’s really sure.
And furthermore, while we're on the topic of pairs of siblings, a story that includes a set of siblings will have those siblings born to the oldest child of the last generation, not the weird cousin thing that happened with Helga and Gus. This means that if you're a part of the twelve dancing princesses for example, only the oldest princess’s twelve children would have the blood bonded destiny of being a dancing princess. The daughters of the other eleven princesses would get random soul destinies like the charming's.
Finally, the first line of this rule is a little false. While unofficially there are two types of people, the destined and the common folk, Headmaster Grimm, and those who truly believe in the destiny system from both camps of people, would say that everyone is destined, as it is the destiny of the common folk to continue on their family trades and support their kingdoms. They even have symbolic legacy signings in some villages where a single page is signed by every child of age and then sent to Grimm to bind into the storybook of legends, and the one held in Book End village each year is attended by nearly every child of age within reasonable travel distance as they get to see Grimm bind the page into the book at the end of the ceremony.
Rule 4: this brings me to the next point, Grimm isn’t just the headmaster of the school in the revamp au, he is also the Oracle of the Storybook. Grimm is thought to be immortal, here since the beginning of the cycles themselves, and he interprets the Storybooks will through visions and the like. This is why Daring knows what his destiny would be, Grimm saw a vision of a blonde prince in armor that had the Charming crest on it leaning over a glass coffin and told his family. He doesn’t control when these visions come, but despite this his position as Oracle makes him almost the head of all the leaders in ever after.
Rule 5:
And finally, number five, the storybook will make little changes each cycle to continue its and the universe's ensured existence. When the original tales happened, they were quite violent, with villains always dying at the end and even some hero’s dying as well. This however started to become a problem for the cycle, as destined who died without having a child first didn’t pass on the story by blood and thus their destiny got spat out randomly to a soul bonded destined. To keep this from happening, two things started to emerge.
One, for stories where the deaths happened right before the end, the book started to look the other way so long as the character was dead until the last words were written. This is how Ginger's mother and previous ancestors survived. Yes, she was pushed into the oven and died, but one, fire resistance potions exist, and two, her oven had a door on the other side that could be opened, so after the storybook wrote “the end” the second door was opened by Grimm/someone else he trusts, and she was given a powerful healing potion. This is the equivalent to your heart stopping for a minute and then being revived by a doctor. You were dead, but like, it was temporary.
Two, for other characters whose deaths happen too early on to be reversible (or that kept the story from being retold entirely), they slowly morphed into other fates. Cinderella’s mother doesn’t so much as die now as she becomes a tree. Somewhere in the middle of the cycle Odette stopped dying and just became stuck as a swan. The little mermaid is an extreme example of this, as Meeshell's ancestors went from dying, to turning to seafoam, to living happily ever after through a very long line of generations. Some say these softer endings have to be repeated a number of times before the book considers them the new versions, but no one's sure what that number is. Some also believe that you can convince the book to give you a softer ending, but this has no proof and is vehemently denied by Grimm who insist the book decides of its own merit what to keep or change each generation when it comes to large plot points based on what's needed to ensure the safety and continuation of ever after.
That’s it for now folks, tune back in whenever I get free time next for some light Snow White and Apple angst.
#RamblesRevamp#There was a lot more I could say but it was getting too long to type out#listen i hated the roybel situation with Poppy and think this is a much better scenario for her storywise#since as someone who does not care what her unknown destiny is#it sets her up as a foil to Dexter who does care what his unknown destiny might be#I would apologize for how all over the place the writing is on this but then again i put ramblings in the title of this blog for a reason#i cannot be clear or concise to save my life#alas#eah au#ever after high
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Countdown
"Villain, please-" Hero started.
"I told you not to try anything, and what did you do as soon as my back was turned? You realize you could've gotten hurt pulling a stunt like that?"
"I wouldn't have had to pull the stunt if you weren't holding me prisoner!"
"Prisoner?" Villain scoffed, "I've given you everything you could ever want, but if you insist you're a prisoner..."
Villain's expression darkened. They pulled a syringe from their pocket and approached Hero.
"I may as well treat you like one."
Hero scurried back on the bed, but Villain was quicker. They instantly jammed the syringe into Hero's skin, letting the contents flood their system. Hero's body began to feel numb and fuzzy. They collapsed on the bed, unable to hold themselves up.
"P-please-"
"The time for begging is over," Villain said, "here's what's going to happen. We're going to count down from five. I'll start us off. Five..."
Villain produced a roll of heavy-duty tape and began to wrap it around Hero, pinning their limbs together.
"Villain, wait!"
Villain ignored them. They stuffed squeezeballs in Hero's hands, then taped them up into useless stumps. They wrapped the rest of their body up, to the point that not an inch of them was visible below their neck. They then fetched a shiny, industrial black bag. The inside was coated with adhesive. They stuffed Hero inside, ignoring their protests, and vacuum sealed them in.
"Four..."
Villain shoved a squeezeball into Hero's mouth, holding it shut and smearing a strong adhesive over their lips. They then wrapped several layers of tape around their head, over their lips.
"Mm!!"
"Three..."
Villain wrapped more tape over Hero's eyes and the rest of their head. The only thing that wasn't covered was their nose.
"Mmph! Mm!"
"Shh," Villain cooed, "we're not done yet. Two..."
Villain shoved earplugs into Hero's ears, then snapped noise-canceling headphones over them as well.
"One."
They placed an oxygen mask over Hero's nose, that would keep a steady supply of the numbing drug in their system.
"Some time like this should teach you to behave," Villain said, not that Hero could hear them.
Villain left Hero's room and set about putting more security measures in place should their Hero make another escape attempt. Though Villain doubted they would after today. Meanwhile, Hero's muffled screams could barely be heard from their room.
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#writeblr#writing#whump#creative writing#snippet#hero x villain#heroes and villains#drugging#captivity#sensory deprivation#countdown#needles#yandere villain#if you squint#hero whumpee#villain whumper
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2025 AI Creator Challenge Update
Oh dear. It would seem like I made a bit of a mess-up of the latest AI Creator Challenge. (reposted to actually tag people in. My head doesn't work any more!).
I'm not going to get all defensive about it. I should have talked to people first. It's my mistake and I'm sorry.
I didn't really want to have a wall of rules, but people wanted clarity. So here's my take on how the challenge should proceed. Please give me some feedback if you have any objections or queries.
Firstly, the scoring system will now change. A few people have suggested 5,4,3,2,1 points - I agree that this is a good way to spread the points out so more people score in each round. I was just trying to keep things simple with the Gold/Silver/Bronze thing.
Secondly, for each challenge, the person who sets the challenge can decide the format of the challenge. For example, they can set it for a single image, a comic strip, a storyboard, an animation, images to music, or even a series of multiple images. The only recommendation here is that the person who sets the challenge must take into account that many people do not have the time to sink into massive projects - try to keep it simple.
Thirdly, every challenge should have a deadline. Each one should last between 7 and 14 days - no month-long, or day-long contests. Whoever sets the challenge can decide the duration, but it must be at the most 2 weeks long.
The final adjustment is that participants can change their entry once if they would like. Quite often, people who post early can "miss out", and regret their entry. This can lead to people waiting to see what others post before they do their own. In order to keep the challenge moving, participants are free to change their entry once up to the challenge deadline. Once the entry is changed, the original entry should not be considered for judging.
Thanks to everyone who has reached out to me about this. Again, if you have any other suggestions, please let me know.
AI-Satin-Chic
@alyssa-ai @dryndelicate @ai-satin-chic @anderii @andysfantasie @burningpoisonroaster @danni-gurrl @gigiprinceton @hollyjumper @fluffyfaza @softsmooth69 @synth-ai @celestmilena @mistressmaurahypno @mohairmaster @prettiesforyou
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