#in addition to him having other hairstyles

[terrorofthetrident]

okay but by season three i think aemond’s hair should be longer

[obaewankenobis]

born to die ; finnick odair

pairing: finnick odair/reader (afab but i don't think i use pronouns? also no use of y/n)

word count: 6.8k

part 2: find here!

summary: having just finished your victory tour, you, the winner from district 4, are forced to confront the reality of winning the games. luckily, you know someone who's done this before — finnick odair.

warnings: mentions of violence, death, nightmares, blood, sex trafficking, i mean... it is the hunger games so read at your own risk! mutual pining, slowish burn, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it ), p in v sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, idk it's not that bad. minors dni!

a/n: sorry to everyone who followed me for my star wars content... anyways here is my first finnick fic cause my friend made me watch the hunger games a month ago so here i am. i was super interested in the cashmere/glimmer theory so i kinda used it here. i have a prequel and a part 2 planned so lmk if you want that <3

There were things nobody ever told you about winning the games, things you wished you would’ve known before you tried so hard. Before you’d clawed your way up a cliff of desperate survival and emerged on top. Before you’d killed people — other children — to be able to stand here now. Your father, a former Victor himself, hadn’t told you about this side of things before he died. With a pang, you realized how badly you wanted him beside you, and how impossible that was. How you were now confined in shoes so tall you thought you might wobble over, in a dress so thin you were beginning to shiver, and a hairstyle that pulled uncomfortably at your roots. It all tied in for a look that was clearly meant to have all eyes on you. It was your victory party, you tried to reason as you slipped into the dress and noticed just how much of you would be on display. They wanted all eyes to be on you. It was okay.

You just wanted to feel beautiful again, to not be plagued with the feeling of revulsion when you looked at yourself in the mirror. The outfit wasn’t the problem, it was perhaps the most stunning thing you’d ever worn: a loose dress with billowing sleeves that fell off your shoulders and opened around the stomach, the silky material melting from transparency to a solid, pale purple around the parts that clung to your breasts and hips. The opalescent color, meant to mimic the expensive pearls commonly found in District 4, shimmered in the moonlight, threatening to turn even the solid parts translucent and expose every part of you to the Capitol.

Not that they’d mind, you thought, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth that threatened to rise to the surface, breaking through a perfectly painted smile and tugging your blush lips into a frown. You couldn’t help but feel that was the point, with all the oogling that no one was trying to hide. And that feeling… that is what kept you from feeling anything but beautiful. You felt used, and exposed, but not beautiful. 

A hand on your arm startled you out of your bitter thoughts, your skin immediately crawling with disgust as your gaze traveled to the face connected to the hand still placed possessively on you. While not particularly ugly, the man in front of you was pushing fifty, and the lewdness dripping from his gaze as he leered at you, an eighteen year old girl… 

“There you are,” his lips curled into an unpleasant smile; he was close enough you could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath, almost overpowered by the sheer amount of cologne that clung to him. “I must say, my sponsorship has paid off… handsomely. I mean, look at you! Such a stunning addition to the Capitol, I just cannot wait for you to become—”

“Excuse me,” a new voice — a familiar voice — cut through. “I think your wife is looking for you, Quillon.”

Of course he knew this man, he seemed to know everyone. And of course the man — Quillon — listened, his eyes widening as he immediately removed his hand from you, leaving an unpleasant dampness from his sweaty palms. He backed away until he had disappeared into the crowd and it was just you and him.

Him. Finnick Odair, Capitol Darling, youngest Victor of the 65th Hunger Games, the most insufferable and obnoxious boy you’d ever had the displeasure of encountering. You were sure he’d never liked you from the beginning; you’d tried to introduce yourself to him at fourteen when you accompanied your father to the Capitol to train the new tributes, only to be brushed off without a second glance.

That dislike had only seemed to grow when you had been Reaped the year your father had been killed (the rumors of the siblings and children of Victors being chosen so often finally making sense to you), and Finnick Odair, master of the Games, expert of the field, had all but ignored you.

“You!” All of the rage you’d pent up about his mentoring skills — or lackthereof — were coming out in full force, though even you were surprised by the venom in your words. With a jab of a finger in his chest, you finally began to let it all out. He seemed to have sensed that you would come at him swinging, grabbing your wrist and dragging you to a quieter corner of the party, beneath a small pergola weighted with vines that crept up the sides and wove inbetween the planks on top.

“Look, I know you must be upset — ” No. You wouldn’t let him talk, not before you had the chance to give him a piece of your mind. You took a step closer, until your nose was brushing against his, and tried to keep your voice as level as you could.

“Nice of you to finally fucking show up, Odair. Didn’t think you’d see me again, huh? Not after you all but fucking abandoned me during training week. I mean, I know we never really got along, but seriously? Is that why you left me with Mags and I never saw you past the first day? You hoped you’d train Kier—” the breath caught in your throat as you finally uttered the name of your fellow District tribute for the first time since… well, that wasn’t important. “—and then I would be out of your hair, is that it?”

Finnick, however, took this as an opportunity to spit his own words out, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard as he looked down at you. “I was trying to help you.” He was so close you could feel his breath fanning your lips, almost making you want to close your eyes.

“Help me?” A laugh escaped your lips, one that could’ve almost been seen as genuine because of the honest disbelief that coated it. “You think I’d be better off dead?”

He didn’t respond. Couldn’t even look you in the eyes, choosing instead to fixate on a tiny rose growing from within the depths of the ivy layers. That was basically a confirmation of what you’d just said, but for some reason he couldn’t even admit it to your face.

 You weren’t sure why, but hot, angry tears were beginning to form in your eyes; you tried frantically to force them down. He couldn’t know how much he’d hurt you with his indifference. “You were supposed to be there for me, you were supposed to teach me how to survive, and you fucking left me to die!”

Had you done something? You replayed all of your interactions with him, coming up short with a conversation that would make him hate you so much he wanted you to die. Sure, you’d been a bit annoying when you’d trailed behind your father, and maybe you had been a little relentless to pursue his attention when he moved next door to you in Victor’s Village, but this? The way he couldn’t even answer you? The way he was just standing there, his gaze in some far off place? It made you angrier. How dare he be so indifferent, how dare he act as if he was doing you a favor?

There was a moment of hesitation before Finnick sighed. “It’s not like that. I was trying to protect you. Look— has Snow talked to you yet?”

This left you truly at a loss for words. “Snow?” You words were less harsh and more curious. “Why would Snow want to talk to me? You know what — don’t try to spin it on him, this is about us! About you—” You stabbed at his chest again, and this time he let you. “—about you abandoning me in that arena, when it was your job to fight for me! To keep me alive!”

“There’s a lot you don’t understand right now,” he began again, hesitantly reaching out to grasp the hand that had struck against his chest, and that was the final straw snapping; you were done.

With a scowl and a tug of your hand, you yanked it free of his grasp and whirled around, the flow of the dress whipping around from the sudden gust of wind. “Whatever, Odair. I’m done. If you can’t even admit what you did was wrong, then… then just leave me the fuck alone from now on.” You didn’t bother to look back, missing the way his jaw hung open and his entire face crumbled. If only you had any idea.

You found out soon enough.

“You’re quite popular now, if you didn’t know that already. Although you’re quite perceptive, I can’t imagine you don’t.” Though he sealed the compliment with a smile, it did little to soothe the unease stirring within your belly.

“Yes, Sir. I’ve noticed. Is that a bad thing?” You hated how weak you sounded, your voice faltering slightly at the end of your sentences, hanging uncomfortably in the air and weighed down with uncertainty.

“I knew you were a smart one,” he finally tucked the envelope in his hands into his pocket, his undivided attention now on you. “You see, with how desirable you are… there are certain expectations that come with that. We wouldn’t want the Capitol to be unsatisfied, now would we?”

When did attention turn into desire? When were there suddenly expectations, and why was it suddenly your responsibility to keep people satisfied? 

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.” A hollow, empty statement, but a genuine one.

“Well,” it seemed Snow was particularly delighted by your response, as if it allowed him to explain something that pleased him greatly. “Victors have their place in Panem, just as all the Districts do. What would Panem be without Eleven’s grain, or Five’s power?”

Realizing it was not a rhetorical question, that he really wanted you to answer, you stumbled through a response. “Well, I— I suppose it would topple the whole structure. We… we can’t survive without eachother.”

“You’d be correct. The same thing applies to the Capitol. Without everyone doing what’s required of them, the Games fail to run smoothly. With no… incentives, shall we say, people… sponsors… become uninterested. There are things you, as a Victor and a mentor, need to do to ensure that interest remains. Do you understand me now, my dear?”

You did, oh how you did. And that was the worst part.

That was how you got here on the rooftop of the Victor’s apartment complex, wrapping a thin robe around the once pretty, now torn chemise that did little to hide your body. You barely survived the first night, there was no way you could spend the rest of your life doing this. No amount of hot showers and scrubbing your skin raw until it bled could free you from feeling so dirty. Tears glistened on your cheeks, highlighting your face in the pale dawn light and exposing your true emotions to anyone who could see you. Luckily — or perhaps unluckily — you were all alone in the Capitol, your family safe and sound because of what you’d agreed to, but so far away.

With slow movements, you hoisted yourself onto the ledge of the roof, telling yourself you wanted to get a better glimpse of the city skyline as the sun crept higher into the sky, not wanting to admit the real reason why, even to yourself. The wind whipped all around you, tearing the robe from your body and splaying your hair in different directions, but you felt as close as you could to freedom. If you just— took another step, or stumbled forward and fell, maybe you would truly be free in the entire sense of the word.

“There’s a forcefield. They wouldn’t let you get away that easily,” the all too familiar voice of Finnick Odair startled you out of your thoughts.

“Did you know?” You had to ask, but couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head and look back at his features, because you would surely crumble if you saw the look on his face.

To his credit, Finnick didn’t bother to sugarcoat it. “Yeah, of course I knew. That’s why…”

“That’s why you wouldn’t train me. You wanted me to die, so I wouldn’t end up like this—” you whirled around sharply to stare straight into his eyes for confirmation as you guessed what you were going to say next. “—like you. Because he makes you do this too, doesn’t he?”

Finnick was never an easy person to read, always hiding behind dimples that indented in his cheeks when he flashed one of his dizzying smirks. But now? You felt like you were staring at a statue, his gaze unable to leave yours but also unable to say anything in return.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, allowing the cold caress of the breeze to take hold of you. If only you could fall back, if only… 

“I tried to protect you,” his voice cracked, finally pushing something past his lips and drawing you away from the dangerous thoughts fighting in your mind. “Don’t you see it now? It would’ve been better if you’d died in the arena, you wouldn’t have to do this,” he spat out the word like it was hot tea burning his tongue, but you noticed the crack of defeat in his voice. The way his shoulders slumped, the way his sea green eyes were fixed on his shoes. “And I… I wouldn’t have to see you like this.”

You did see it now; there was a fate worse than death. “I should’ve listened to you, Finnick.” His first name felt foreign on your tongue, as if you were speaking an intimate language only known to the both of you. “I— I’m sorry. I had no idea, I…”

He let your apology hang heavy in the air, flicking his eyes over your shoulder to the waking Captiol, evident by the honks of car horns and the chatter of thousands turning into a dull buzz.

You couldn’t stand silence, it reminded you too much of what followed your father’s execution, what followed when your name was called from the Reaping Bowl. So with a huff, you jumped down from the ledge and hoped he wouldn’t notice your disgruntled appearance.

Not that you cared what he thought of you. But one look from him and you were a goner; your lips began to quiver and you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Finnick, I… I don’t know how to do this,” a choked sob escaped you, and then it was all over and you were crying, shaking violently as you tried and failed to regain your composure. That seemed to snap him out of the haze he’d been in, his eyes flickering over and fixating on your figure, deep frown lines etching themselves on his face in a worried expression. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he didn’t hesitate to surge forward as you began to sway, the lack of sleep from the night before becoming evident in the dark circles beneath your bleary eyes, cracks in your skin holding onto tears that had long since been shed. He placed a careful hand near the small of your back, hovering over your skin before you fell back into it, like he was uncertain if you would be okay with touch. It reminded you of two nights ago, where he’d been so close to you but still kept his distance, not wanting to invade your space. His reluctance to touch you without your explicit permission made sense now, it all did.

“I just— I don’t—” Your body convulsed with gutteral sobs that sliced his heart in two, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you into his chest, allowing fresh tears to stain in the wool of his white sweater. “I don’t…” you tried again, wanting to continue despite the hiccups, “I just don’t… don’t… know what to do.”

You could feel his lips moving against your hair from where they rested on top of your head as he answered. “You don’t have to do anything. Not right now, at least.”

Time passing was the last thing on your mind as you remained in his embrace, soaking up everything about him, relishing in the comfort his closeness brought to you. How when your mind began to wander, the rhythmic pattern of his heartbeat brought you back so you could listen with your ear against his chest. How when your body expelled the last of its shudders and gasps from your breakdown, you could feel his arms flexing, squeezing you a little tighter. How when you pulled back from his embrace, he traced the red indent on your cheek, left from one of the buttons on his sweater.

“When was the last time you slept, sweetheart?” Finnick asked in a tone so gentle it brought fresh tears to your eyes; perhaps it was the sleep deprivation this time.

“I— I can’t go to sleep,” you began to panic again, digging your fingernails into his clothed arms. “I just close my eyes and I keep reliving it over and over again, I can’t do it again, I can’t—”

“I get it,” he stopped your rambling with a simple sentence, and you finally felt like you didn’t have to explain, he just understood. “Just… come with me, okay? You can trust me.”

Wordlessly you nodded, allowing him to guide you gently through the long corridors of the various penthouses until you arrived to one that had been occupied by none other than yourself. No, I can’t sleep, you wanted to shout at him, but remained silent. Trust him.

You allowed him to go through the motions of a bedtime routine, paying no attention to the fact that it was probably breakfast time. Pulling back one side of the blanket, he patted the uncovered space, motioning you to come lay down beside where he sat. 

“Finnick, I can’t…” I can’t sleep.

He shook his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Just trust me, okay? Come and lay down, you don’t even have to sleep.”

Reluctantly, you threw the robe off of you and on to a chair, trying very hard to ignore the fact that the nightgown underneath did little to hide your body, reaching just past the tops of your thighs and exposing most of your legs. But Finnick didn’t even seem to notice, watching just your face as you settled into bed beside him, laying stiffly on your back until he motioned for you to roll over on your side, facing away from him.

“What are you—” you were shushed yet again and tried to comply, feeling a bit odd facing away from him when he was supposed to be distracting you.

You suppressed a shiver as his finger came into contact with your back, the thin silk of the nightgown doing little as a barrier and feeling more of a second skin. He began to trace a pattern— wait, were those letters?

“Finnick, what are you doing?” You forced back the beginnings of a smile, the first time you’d genuinely wanted to in what seemed like forever.

“Just relax, okay? Sometimes it’s okay to just… let yourself be distracted,” his voice trailed off, differing from the confidence you were used to, replaced by something much more vulnerable. “What am I drawing now?”

“I…” you frowned in concentration, trying to piece together the light strokes of his finger just barely gliding over you. “The sea, no! Waves?”

“Woah, that was fast. Didn’t know I was such an amazing artist, but it doesn’t surprise me—” The teasing tone had returned to his voice, no doubt an effort to continue to distract her

“Can you just continue drawing?” You rolled your eyes knowing he couldn’t see, but there was a slight humor to your voice that let him know it was working, that he was distracting you. His fingers continued their roaming, dancing so delicately and so dangerously close to your bare shoulder.

Finnick traced a moon, a star, and even a fish before he switched over to words, indenting each letter in your back with featherlight strokes of his fingers.

At first it was people, places. Your name. His name. District 4. District 1. Then it transitioned to phrases, which proved to be much more difficult. ‘You should sleep’—

“—Hey! I thought this was supposed to just be a distraction,” your words were finished with a heavy yawn that caused a chuckle to vibrate within his chest, and a feeling of warmth spread through you like wildfire. You couldn’t help it, in a moment you had flipped over onto your other side, wanting to see him. You could hear him, small chuckles passing from his lips and the slight rustle of the sheets beneath his body; you could smell him, a comforting, clean scent that instantly relaxed you, but nothing compared to actually being able to see him in all his glory.

You studied the high of his cheekbones, the straight edge of his nose, the golden glow of his skin that matched his bronzy hair dishevled from its place against your headboard. You studied the way his hair curled around his ears, the way you could faintly see the indents in his cheeks from where his dimples would appear if he were to smile, how the white of his two front teeth would poke out from his lips if he flashed you a smirk. They were full and pink, and, with a pang of jealousy that rocked your entire body, you wondered how many Capitol women had been blessed with feeling his lips on theirs — then swallowed that thought down with a shudder of disgust. He hadn’t wanted them, any of them, it was all a facade made up from by the Capitol, and you needed to realize that.

And while hearing him, and smelling him, and even seeing him was great, all you wanted to do was touch him. Not like that; no, you just wanted his arms around you again like they had been on the rooftop, shielding you from the cruelty of the world and finally allowing your body to feel safe enough to sleep. You wanted to reach out and trace the sharpness of his jawline, trail your fingers down to explore the planes of his chest, draw letters and shapes and meaningless patterns over his shirt like he’d just done to you. He watched you through sea green eyes that were glassy with sleep or emotion, which one you couldn’t say. His breaths came out short and shallow, hitting your face as you stared right back. You wondered if he could feel your breath fanning his face, or the warmth radiating from your body as you could from his.

He was close, so, so close, like that night you’d first seen him in the Captiol. You were wanting, just about begging for him to say something, something that would snap you out of whatever trance you were in.

It wasn’t fair that he could be so close, mere inches away on the bed, but be so unreachable.

But, as Snow had so graciously reminded you, fairness was a luxury you were not blessed with. So with great effort you tucked one arm under your pillow, using the other to pull the covers over you. Much to your relief, Finnick made no attempt to leave, saving you the embarassment of asking him to stay.

“Finnick?” You asked after several moments in a hushed whisper, not wanting to wake him. You felt guilty enough to have kept him up until mid morning.

“Mmmm?” Was the response, thick with sleep.

“Thanks for staying with me.” You fell asleep before you could hear his response.

Blood. Red and warm and sticky.

Heat. Blistering your skin and parching your throat.

A knife. Glinting in the sun, slicing straight through skin and muscle and bone.

A scream. Bloodcurdling and drawn out and all too familiar.

A scream escaped your lips, mimicking the one in your dream to an uncanny degree until you realized it was your scream. The sheets were tangled around your limbs, suffocating you and rendering you paralyzed as you fought with them, sweat drenching your forehead and leaving your hairline damp as you struggled for what felt like hours, though it was probably only a moment or two before your disorientation faded and you realized you weren’t back in the arena. Two hands were on your shoulders, strong and grounding, and you realized someone had been calling your name.

“You’re okay. You’re safe, it’s just— it’s just me,” Finnick’s voice was soothing to your ears, a calming melody against the screams and sounds of sliced flesh that were assaulting your mind.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, chest heaving as you sucked in as much air as possible, needing desperately to occupy your mind with something else, anything else. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up—”

“It’s okay,” he cut you off; his hands moved up from your shoulders to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks and you realized you’d been crying. “I get it, you don’t… you don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

His arms wrapped around your body until you had been tucked into his side, your head resting in the crook where his neck met his shoulder, and allowed steadying inhales and exhales to relax you as he resumed tracing patterns on your back. You cried, for everything you’d lost in those games, mourning the person you were before, and he just stayed there, cradling you against him, wanting nothing more than to take your pain on as his own.

“I— I— I just— I can’t—” you hiccuped, fresh tears spilling from your eyes as memories from your Games kept crashing down, how your District partner had protected you and you’d killed him—

“Please, what do you need?” Finnick squeezed his hands a bit tighter around you, trying desperately to bring you back to today. “Just tell me, and I can get it for you— liquor, morphling, anything, just—”

“Finnick,” you croaked out, hating how your voice sounded so weak, so broken. “Can you just…” your eyes flickered down to his lips, and despite every cell in your body screaming at you not to ask: “Kiss me.”

His eyes widened like it was the last thing he expected you to say, “I— okay— are you sure?”

You answered his question by surging forward and capturing his lips with your own, telling yourself it wasn’t his lips that you craved, but that you just needed something to get you through the night. He reciprocated immediately, matching your desperation with his own, like the two of you were trading blows as he pulled you fully under him, settling himself between your legs. You felt the hardness in his pants and couldn’t help but roll your hips up to meet it, pressing your own desire up against his. That — the feeling of his cock straining through the material of his sweatpants — made everything a little too real, and you suddenly found yourself needing to justify your actions. Why you felt this way was a mystery, perhaps you were protecting yourself, scared he wouldn’t feel the same if you were honest, but you truly had no idea, it just slipped out.

“I just… can’t think about it anymore,” you panted out. He didn’t have to know that you’d been pining after him since you were sixteen, didn’t need to know you hid your wanting behind sharp jabs and petty slights. “I don’t want you to think— this doesn’t have to mean anything, okay?”

Maybe you were imagining it, but Finnick’s eyes flickered with something you’d never seen before, clenching his jaw for a moment. “Okay.” He didn’t sound okay. “This means… whatever you want it to mean,” his voice was husky with a mix of something that sounded a little like… well you weren’t really sure, and you soon forgot to ask him as he stole your lips in another kiss.

You swore you would never get used to the feeling of Finnick’s lips on your own, even if you kissed him every day for a thousand lifetimes. Because each time his lips met yours, the world as you knew it was set ablaze with the same fuel that set your whole body on fire. You could never get enough of him, the way his lips were so soft and gentle, the way his breath mingled with and matched your own until it was like you were breathing as one. The way his tongue slid into your mouth but didn’t invade it while his hands roamed your body, squeezing the flesh around your hips, your sides, not being able to keep them contained to one place.

They finally settled on the sides of your thighs, squeezing around the area where your nightgown stopped, fading into a lacy trim and then disappearing completely. With tentative hands, he gripped the bottom of your nightgown and slowly began to hike it up your body. You helped him slide it up your legs, your stomach, your head, until it was completely discarded and you were left in nothing but underwear, having not worn a bra to sleep and leaving your chest completely exposed. Before you even had the chance to cover yourself, he was pressed up against you and his lips were on your neck, nipping at the sensitive spots under your ear and near the base of your throat, soothing the sting of his teeth with the swirl of his tongue.

This continued for a bit without any talking or shifting around, until you decided you weren’t content with being the only one practically naked, and reached for the hem of his shirt. He got the hint pretty quickly, leaning back and sitting on the backs of his thighs before tugging the shirt over his head. His biceps flexed in the process as he revealed a body sculpted and shaped into what you could only describe as perfect, not a single flaw to be seen.

 Sitting above you, your legs spread around him and almost completely bare before  him, this was the first time he was truly able to take in all of you, his green eyes nearly black with how wide his pupils had been blown out. His cheeks were so flushed they nearly matched the red of his lips, swollen from the constant attack of your own.

“You’re so beautiful,” Finnick whispered, so quietly you thought you imagined it. He didn’t leave much time for the compliment to settle in before he was back on you again.

His lips trailed down your neck, sucking and licking a path of hot, open mouthed kisses down past the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and not leaving an inch of skin untouched. You let out a little whine at the loss of contact when he suddenly pulled away, stopping his kisses just by your hip bone. You opened your eyes to see him searching them for any trace of unwillingness, finding none. 

You nodded, desperate to have his mouth on you, and involuntarily shivered as a finger hooked around your panties and rolled them down your legs. You couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed as he was met with how eager you were for him, evident by the growing wetness between your thighs, and instinctively pressed your legs together to shield yourself from his prying gaze, despite being completely bare before him.

“You don’t have to hide, it’s just me,” he said as gently as possible, gripping your thighs and slowly spreading them apart, “Are you really sure about all of this? I don’t want you to think that’s why I stayed.”

God he was so good, you realized with an ache that rocked your body, shooting straight to your heart as you stared at him, met with only sincerity that made you want to cry again, because you could never truly have all of him.

He was doing this as a favor, as a distraction, not because he had any real feelings. But you were so desperate for him you’d take what you could get, which was why you nodded fervently and said, “Please, Finnick, I’m sure, I need you, just… touch me.” And as soon as the last words slipped past your lips, his mouth was on you, and you knew in that moment you were utterly fucked.

Finnick, on the other hand, knew he there was no coming back the moment he came into contact with your clit and tasted you with his tongue. He wanted you, all of you, and chanelled that into the expert motions of his tongue as he dove it deeper in you, continuing at an agonizing pace until you were trembling, practically begging for release. Your fingers raked through his hair, tugging him closer to you, his groans vibrating against your folds whenever you pulled a little hard.

And then, he stopped altogether, and you let out a frustrated groan at the loss of contact, but he was quick to make his way up your body again, peppering kisses along the way before swallowing your whine with another kiss, your mouth opening to let his tongue inside and tasting yourself on him. He broke away for a moment, just in time for you to cry out his name.

“Finn—” you barely had time to whimper again before he suddenly sunk a finger in and kissed you at the same time. His mouth never left yours as he continued, his tongue sliding along the seam of your lips as you parted them with a gasp. And he swallowed that with the kiss, too, like he was hungry for every part of you that he could get. 

Desire ignited every part of his body, reflected in the way he began to pump his finger in and out before adding another, wanting you to be ready enough for his cock that he so desperately wanted to sink into you.

 But Finnick had waited so long for this moment, he didn’t want to ruin it by moving too fast. No, he needed to relish in every moan elicited from your lips, every clench of you around his fingers. He needed to memorize every dip and valley of your body, kiss every square inch, memorize the taste and feel of you, in case he never got the chance to again.

He broke away his lips from yours and reattached them to your neck as his thumb began to trace a pattern against your clit. His pace quickened as your moans grew louder and more frequent. Your walls squeezed his fingers tighter, until you were practically undone, as he reveled in the sting in his roots and on his back as as you pulled his hair even tighter and your fingernails dug little crescent moons into his otherwise perfect skin.

“I’m gonna—” You were cut off as he sent you over the edge with the slight curl of his finger, pure bliss blinding every other sense until all you could think of was Finnick. It took you a moment to come down from your high, realizing it did little to satiate you because you still wanted him, all of him.

You reached for his bare torso, feeling each of his abs flex individually as you trailed your hands down his stomach. You stopped just above the waistband of his pants, not only wanting to feel him, but wanting to hear him say he wanted it just as badly as you did; but it seemed he was thinking the same thing and beat you to it, shucking off his sweats and boxers until he was also bare before you.

“Tell me you want me,” his chest heaved with each word, demanding you say just what you wanted to hear from him, tearing your attention away from everything else. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Want you so bad,” your voice was barely above a whisper. “Please, I need you inside me. Right now, just… please.” If you could get drunk off of the word please leaving your mouth you’d be wasted by now, almost wanting to laugh with how often you’d said the word.

“Whatever you want,” the way he said that made your spine tingle, the purr in his voice causing you to border on ferality.

This caused you to laugh and hook your arms around his neck, pulling him closer with the intention of kissing the smirk right off his mouth until you felt the tip of his cock brush against your entrance, making this feel a little to real once again.

“You sure?” He halted your movements, both hands resting on either side of your head as he remained hovering above you, repeating his question from earlier.

The vigor in your nod caused him to throw his head back with laughter, though not before you asked for confirmation of his own.

Mimicking your move from earlier he answered with a kiss, this one so sweet and quick it was more of a peck. Before he had time to overthink, he was inside you in a swift motion, a moan tearing from your throat as he paused, waiting for you to adjust to the sheer size of him. Your fingernails dug into his arms as he held still, waiting for you to give him the go ahead before he started moving.

“Just— move, please—” that was all it took before his hips snapped against yours and he was inside you fully, biting back a groan to match yours as you clenched around him.

After a while of slow strokes, you were starting to grow inpatient with how gentle he was being. Not because you didn’t like it, but because then you had the chance to slow down and remember it was actually Finnick, and not some nameless man you wouldn’t remember in the morning. He seemed to pick up on your growing disinterest quickly enough, and began quickening his pace until you were crying out. His thrusts soon became wild and erratic, signaling he was just as close to finishing as you were.

“It’s okay,” he crooned, his lips brushing your ear as his hand reached down to circle your clit once again. “Come for me, sweetheart.” 

You weren’t sure whether it was his command, or the pet name, way his lips felt against your ear, or even his thumb pressing against your clit, but you came hard and fast, your body spasming and clenching around his cock until he followed soon after. He collapsed on top of you, his chest shining with sweat as he continued to press kisses on you shoulder, up your neck, behind your ear. The weight of Finnick pinning you to the mattress was oddly comforting, grounding you and effectively keeping you from wandering back to thoughts of your Games. The distraction had worked, you realized as he eventually rolled off of you and up into a sitting position.

You wondered tiredly where he was going, but he had left and returned before you could even ask where. A damp towel in one hand, he cleaned you up with gentle movements, slowing when you gasped from sensitivity and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead while whispering sweet words of encouragement in your ear. The whole interaction was so domestic you actually felt nauseous as you remembered this was just a one time thing, and you’d never experience any of this again. This was just a favor done by someone who wasn’t even really your friend — a familiar stranger who knew more about you than most.

Finnick oh so desperately wanted to know what you were thinking. He would ask, but the look in your eyes kept his mouth shut as he fell on the mattress beside you. He itched to pull you close to him, to be able to fall asleep with the security of you in his arms, but couldn’t bring himself to make any first moves. Had he not slept here before you two had just fucked, he’d be questioning whether or not he should remain or go back to his room.

If only he knew you were craving his touch just as much as he was craving yours. So the two of you fell asleep shoulder to shoulder, with so many words left unspoken.

And when you woke up the next morning, you tried not to let your heart sink completely into your chest as you reached over and felt nothing. He was gone.

[yellowjestertfs]

Agents of Change

My submission to @occamstfs 2000 follower viral writing contest. A million congrats to @occamstfs for the achievement, and a million more thanks for the help in editing this story.

Not quite my usual story but pretty happy with how it turned out. Also make sure to check out the other amazing authors participating in this contest as well.

As an elite member of the Secret Service, Whitman was prepared for an endless number of threats. He could disarm an attacker in seconds, spot gunmen from a hundred feet away, even disable a bomb with one foot while blindfolded upside down. What he wasn’t prepared for was pretty boys.

"Sir,” Brella, the youngest and only woman in his detail, said, her voice raised slightly in alarm as she pointed out the five men heading toward them in the hall.

“I see them,” Whitman said, placing a hand on his taser and standing up to his full five ten of hight in an attempt to look intimidating. The men were not outright threatening; dressed in too small suits, they could easily be young aides or politicians, if not for the fact that they looked wrong.

Well, that is not exactly true; what really set Whitman off was the fact that they looked perfect—too perfect, like supermodels mixed with superheroes. It wasn’t that Washington didn't have its fair share of handsome fellas. Rather to the contrary, Whitman had known plenty of young senators or lobbyists who used their good looks as an advantage in their careers. None, however, looked like these men. 

They strode forward purposefully down the hallway, feet landing and lifting with perfect synchronicity.

Each of them was tall and broad, with strong muscular legs that bulged against their suit pants, although not quite as much as the bulges in their crotches. Their waists were trim and tight, tapering out to wide shoulders and strong arms. And then there were their faces. 

Though each differed in hairstyle and facial features, they all possessed the same quality to their face. Something about the cut of the jaw or the glint of the eyes made them undeniably linked. Beauty to the point of uncanny.

“Excuse me, sirs. This is a restricted zone; I am going to have to ask you to turn around.” Whitman called out, though the men were still at least 70 feet away. 

The horde of men continued to stride forward, though the one in the lead responded. In a polite but slightly monotone voice, “We are allowed to be here; we have a meeting with the president.” He said face, adopting a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Whitman tightened his hand on his taser. He knew for a fact these pretty boys didn't have any such meeting scheduled. He found it strange and troubling that that excuse had gotten them this far. Confusing and deeply suspicious. “The president is busy right now. You really should stop walking and tell me how you got in here.” The men kept walking forward, now only thirty feet from Whitman, and his team, posed outside the president’s office. 

“Bret and Berry let us in.” The man said, invoking the name of the secret service agents who watched the door to the hallway. Hearing the names jogged something in Whitman’s head—a fact right in front of him he had somehow missed. He heard his second in command Santiago let out a gasp behind him as he reached a similar conclusion. Two of the men flanking the leader bore a striking resemblance to the agents, only with faces more handsome and bodies more muscular. It was as if those agents had been remade in the image of conventional beauty standard, smooth and unnaturally symmetrical. In addition Bret now had a short beard that suited his dark eyes. While Berry’s hair had been combed and bleached into a thick blond swoop, which complemented his square face, and each man had gained at least fifty pounds of muscle and half a foot in height. 

“Stop right there,” Whitman yelled, losing any semblance of politeness. By now, the men were only ten feet away. Whitman removed his taser from his holster and pointed it at the man in the lead. Behind him, his agents did the same. 

“I assure you we mean no harm. Put down your weapons.” The man in the lead said, his voice intelligent and charismatic but with a hint of something alien in his words. He took another step, and Whitman fired. 

Small metal wires sprung out, latching onto the suit of the man in the lead. The taser in his hand bucked as it sent wave after wave of electricity into the man's body. When he was in the army Whitman had been tased as part of his training. They were the worst five seconds of his life as his every cell was violently electrocuted and he convulsed on the floor. The man in the lead didn't break a stride, seeming more annoyed by the hole the gun left in his suit than the electricity. Whitman watched as Brella and Cameron fired their taser into two of the other men who had similarly lack of response. 

Santiago, seeing the ineffectualness of the weapon, brought out his gun and pointed it at the leader. Whitman always preached avoiding lethal harm as often as possible; but the rapid escalation of the situation surely called for it. In a blur, the man in the lead rushed forward. Whitman could only feel the air kicked up by him as he rushed past and grabbed Santiago’s wrist with one hand, shoved it and the gun upwards towards the ceiling. Cameron reached for his own gun, but Bret and Berry rushed forward to stop him while another man grabbed Brella from behind and put a hand over her mouth. Whitman found himself backing up, physically blocking the door to the Oval Office with his body as his agents were incapacitated before him. 

These men moved faster than humanly possible and were far stronger as well, but Whitman was not defenseless. The last unoccupied man lunged for him, but Whitman managed to sidestep right at the last second, causing the man to lose his balance. Whitman took advantage of this and grabbed him in a headlock, pulling his gun out, and placing it to the man's temple.

Brella screamed something, but the sound was muffled by the hand over her mouth. Santiago’s arm was still in the grasp of the man in the lead, but oddly enough he seemed not to be struggling, instead staring straight ahead at the ceiling with a glazed look. Even more strangely, Cameron now faced away from Whitman, locked in the tight embrace with the man who resembled Berry. Whitman’s eyes went wide as he realized the two were kissing. He was even more startled to realize that Bret was unbuttoning Cameron's white button-down shirt from behind, running his hands over Cameron's now bare lower back.

Whitman couldn’t understand what was happening. His brain, grounded so long in the mundane, couldn’t process the unexplainable happening occurring before his eyes. Santiago's wrist and hand were jerking. No, not jerking, shifting, growing larger, bone pushed outwards as skin tightened, veins slowly rose to the surface. His fingernails straightened into perfect uniform cuticles, and his knuckles became rough and bony and distinctly masculine. His once slender wrist thickened, while his forearm muscles swelled, pushing against the skin with newfound strength as more veins and dark brown hair sprang to the surface like rivers and trees. 

Whitman watched dumbly as the changes quickly grew past Santiago's elbow, onto his upper arm, which grew muscular and brawny, and eventually up to his shoulder, which widened and rounded with new muscle. 

Cameron, from his own embrace, let out low guttural noises of pleasure. He shifted, revealing the side of his face. It looked almost as if Cameron now had a birthmark around his lips. The skin had the skin was slightly darker and completely unblemished. The change spread from around his lips in all directions like a flame in a field. As it went, it changed not just his skin but the landscape of his face, tightening his jaw, nose growing slightly, cheeks becoming high and prominent, and all the while leaving numerous small light brown hairs on his chin and cheeks to form perfectly groomed stubble. His brows became thicker, forehead lost its wrinkles, eyes narrowed and turned a deep shade of green the color of rusty copper. 

As this happened, Bret managed to remove Cameron's suit jacket and shirt from his body. He wrapped his arms around Cameron's torso, rubbing his hands over Cameron's slight belly and hairy chest. Everywhere Bret touched changed rapidly, stomach giving way to tight abs with cut obliques. Bret placed his hands over both Cameron's nipples, and under his hands, pecs grew in for him to cup. His back also shifted as the changes spread, muscles tightening and skin became just as hairless and poreless as on his face. Cameron began to gyrate his hips back into Bret's groin as his moans became louder.

All of this happened in a matter of seconds. Brella was unaffected at least, as she continued to struggle against her attacker. “Stop whatever you're doing or he gets it.” Whitman barked, tightening his headlock on the man he had subdued and jamming his gun further into the man's head.

The one who had grabbed Santiago, the leader, turned to face Whitman. He dropped Santiago's wrist, which instantly fell to his side, slack. The alien changes had spread over his chest, down his torso, and into his other arm. Whitman watched as the changes crept up his neck, thickening as it grew a more prominent Adam's apple. Despite being free, Santiago stood there limply, gun clattering to the floor next to him. The leader took a step towards Whitman. The two men locked eyes. For a moment, he felt an understanding between him and the leader. This man was a killer bee, with drones at his command and yet also supremely dangerous in his own right. Whitman was a bear though, he would do anything to protect his charge, and he had a taste for honey.

The leader raised his hands in surrender, and Whitman smiled coldly. Then he felt a hand wrap around his bare ankle underneath his pant leg. Instant sensations overwhelmed him. Shock, lust, horror—his hormones became an unstable cocktail as sensations wracked his body. From the location of the touch, he felt a deep biting cold; the places where his captor’s fingers touched were suddenly plunged into an Antarctic snowbank. Whitman kicked his leg, breaking his captive’s grip on his leg, but the cold feeling remained. He tried to fire his gun, but his hands began to shake so violently that it dropped from his grip. He looked up and saw the leader had closed the distance to him in a second so that their faces were now inches away. Whitman thought he was going to kiss him as Barry had to Cameron. But instead, the leader whispered in Whitman's ear, so close that Whitman could smell the mint on his breath and feel the hot air on his cheek. “Stop fighting. Enjoy it. Soon we will be one.”

Whitman tried to say something, but only a croak came out. He fell to his knees, then fully to the floor as the burning cold spot on his ankle pulsed rhythmically. Whitman could only watch as the leader and the man who should have been his  captive walked over to Whitman's agents. The changes had fully spread across Santiago's face, giving him a handsome look somehow that shared the uncanny similarity to his attackers. Through his clothes, Whitman couldn’t tell how far the changes had reached on Santiago's lower body, but judging by the large bulge pushing out his pants in the front and the even larger butt pushing out from the back, they were spreading rapidly.

Cameron seemed even further along. His entire body and face were completely changed. He had become a brute of a man, with a tall hulking frame on trunks for legs, a creature of power. His face looked the same way; it shared the other's beauty but had a more square, simple cast to it that made him look halfway between a prince and a caveman. He no longer stared blankly at his head but sneered intimidatingly. He and the leader approached Brella, tying a rope around her arms and legs and putting a gag into her mouth. She looked desperately to Whitman or Santiago for help, but both were just as powerless as she was.

Whitman watched as Santiago’s foot expanded, toes growing and curling in his now too-small shoes. As the last part of his body changed, Santiago looked up from his trance and light returned to his eyes. Whitman tried to signal for him to grab the fallen gun, but instead, Santiago moved to stand by the leader's side. Now a group of seven, numbers bolstered by two of his own, the men walked past a helpless Whitman and into the door to the Oval Office that Whitman had failed in his mission to guard.

The changes spread down Whitman’s ankle into his foot and up to his knee. He found with alarm that he was unable to move those parts of his body, like they had been calcified in stone. With his arms he crawled forward gaining a view into the office. His discarded gun lay a few feet before him. He tried to crawl some more but found the activity becoming more and more taxing.

Inside the office, chaos had erupted. The four secret service agents Whitman had assigned to stay inside the office had heard the commotion outside and were ready with guns drawn. Even so, they were not fast enough. Four of the men, including Santiago, raced blindingly fast toward the men and incapacitated them in seconds; their touch began the changes on those agents that Whitman was currently experiencing. 

The Secretary of Agriculture, Packson Jackson, a little man who the president had been meeting with, tried to stop the intruders, physically placing his body in front of the president. Cameron stepped forward and lifted the man into the air with one hand as effortlessly as if he were a toy. Jackson flailed in Cameron’s grasp, feet kicking harmlessly into the air. Cameron brought his hand up to hover just above Jackson’s face. The meek man shied away, closing his eyes tight in anticipation. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off as Cameron from above spit down into his mouth, then shoved his thumb between the secretary’s lips. Jackson looked horrified for a second, then a glazed appearance came over his eyes, and he began sucking furiously on the finger as his face started to transform from the inside out. 

Whitman struggled forward. The changes had spread up one leg into his hips and down the other. In the wake of the changes, Whitman's sturdy thigh had become a cut cascade of muscle, thick and hairy and made for pushing mountains instead of walking briskly down White House hallways. His hips spasmed uncontrollably as round mounds emerged to form a tight shelf on his butt, the movement forcing his dick into the ground repeatedly. His penis felt strange, growing erect, then warm, then pricked with hundreds of pleasurable tingles as his dick and balls swelled larger. The haze of sensations creating an overwhelming fogging on his brain became twinged by acute and powerful horniness. 

The president, watching his secret service taken out so easily, raised his hand in defeat. He addressed the leader of the group, who leaned against the doorframe casually.

“I surrender.” He said in his signature southern drawl, giving a disarming smile. “Whatever your grudge is, it's with me, not these people.” He gestured to the secret service agents in various phases of transformation. “Release them and you can kill me, I won’t fight.”

“Kill you?” The leader asked from the doorframe. His voice was deep and hypnotic, with that same twinge of distance from before as if he were detached from the events happening around him. He rushed forward in a blur so that he was only inches away from the president. To Whitman's relief, his hands stayed by his side. “I’m afraid you misunderstand, Mr. President, we are here to give you a gift.”

With herculean effort, Whitman stretched out his arm far enough for his fingers to brush against the handle of the fallen gun. By now the changes had overtaken his other leg and moved onto his torso, which slimed into sleek abs. His head was on fire, every neuron on full tilt; he could barely keep up with the events happening in front of him, and in the back of his mind, he felt something—a new presence knocking on his proverbial mental door.

The president looked down at the Secretary convulsing on the floor in front of him. Already the changes had elongated Packson body significantly and beefed up his slender frame with significant muscle. “I don’t want your gift.” He glanced at Whitman, struggling on the floor for a gun, and knew he needed to buy time. “Let's talk about what you want—money, power, favors. I can do all three if you release these innocent men.”

The leader seemed willing to take the bait. “I sometimes forget how petty and simple men can be.” He said it in a thoughtful retrospective manner, looking the president up and down from his head-higher of vantage. “We are not apes to be so easily swayed from our course by the carnal; we are oneness, brotherhood, fraternity, true revelation. You will soon understand”

Whitman's flailing hand seized the gun. The changes had reached his chest, which now hovered several inches off the ground on pillowy muscular pecs. His shoulders locked up as the changes reached them. As he took aim with the gun the changes continued down his arm, leaving a round bicep/tricep combo and locking his elbow in place. 

Something about the way the leader spoke, about the lofty collective tone. It felt dangerous, otherworldly, and distinctly familiar. The intruder in the back of his mind spoke similarly; it urged him to put down the gun and to join it in its mission of conversion, of domination. 

Whitman blocked it out. He felt the changes spread up his neck, up his jaw, and over his mouth, removing any power he might have had to make a sound. He felt a strange prickle on his face as a thick, well-groomed beard grew in. An exhalation from his straightening nose tickled his new mustache hair. As the changes passed his eyes, he could feel them start to physically alter his brain, making him more malleable and honing him for whatever purpose these changes, this being, meant for him.

Even stranger he felt a connection start to emerge in his consciousness to the other affected men in the room. He could feel their thoughts, their emotions, and their misgivings. 

The leader stepped forward to grab the president's bare flesh. The president flinched back. Whitman could feel the leader's thoughts through the new bond and knew he intended to grab with the right hand and lunge with his whole body. Whitman's wrist and palm were no longer his, fully transformed; it didn't matter. He still had his fingers and just enough of himself left to pull the trigger. 

The leader, or rather the entity inside the leader, felt Whitman's actions as he did them. He was fast, but the bullet was faster. In the split second the entity inside the leader made itself physical to infect the president with his touch Whitman shot. The bullet sailed right into its eldritch form, just between the leader's body and the president, and out the other side. 

The entity led out an ungodly, inhuman, nail on a chalkboard screech, and then it was gone. All around the destroyed office, men woke up as if from a dream, eyes fluttering rapidly and looking around at the carnage they had only passengers to. Cameron looked down at his gargantuan body with shock, while Jackson groaned and picked himself off the floor unsteadily, his body now a foot taller and 100 pounds heavier.

 From the hallway, Brella moaned through her gag. Santiago suddenly himself again, although now with a model's face and a bodybuilder frame, went to untie her sheepishly. Whitman lay on the floor, profoundly exhausted and overwhelmed. 

“Can I shake your hand?” A voice said from above him. Whitman looked up to see the president smiling down at him. That managed to rouse him, and he slowly got to his feet. Every part of his body, save the very tip of his middle fingers, had been transformed. His tailored suit now looked pathetically small on his thick muscular frame, and his face felt wider, more masculine, his jaw jutting outward strongly as if he could chew rocks like gum. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, of his body becoming this new foreign perfect thing. Whitman didn't know how he was going to even start explaining this to his husband or stepkids. 

Now however, he had other concerns. The president stuck out his hand for Whitman to shake, and god damn it if Whitman didn't deserve it. He clasped the other man's hand, meaty fingers, and palm enveloping the leader’s, and shook vigorously with the strength afforded by his new beefy arm. 

The president gave a brief look of shock, and Whitman feared he didn't yet know his own strength. Then he felt something strange. The president's grip tightened, and his fingers started to move in the handshake; no, they started to grow, his hand becoming just as meaty and masculine as Whitman now was. 

The president dropped the handshake and raised his hand to his face, admiring the now smooth tan hand, powerful and devoid of any wrinkles. Both men waited for the changes to spread down his wrist or for the president's eyes to glaze over, but nothing happened. 

“I am so sorry, Mr. President. I will submit myself to quarantine immediately.”

“Oh, hush.” The president said, waving his new hand dismissively. He flexed it appreciatively, admiring the strength and lack of wrinkles “I think this could help me quite a bit in New Hampshire.” He unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt and rolled it up to reveal his forearm. “Do the rest of me, then I will get you in touch with the generals.”

[maleyanderecafe]

i haven't seen any news here yet but have u seen the newest update for 14 days with you? ren in day 3 got me blushing and shiiiii 🤪 and his new hairstyles? gahdamn 😮‍💨

It's been a long time coming, but I played the update! I actually had to wait since at the time there was a 3.5 update coming out so I just waited until that came out before deciding to play the entire thing. Lots of new and changed things, the artwork is great as always.

Since in my original recommendation I already gave summary on the first day, I'm going to first note some changes for the first day before summarizing the second day.

In the first day, we can now change the length of Haruko's hair, which in turn changes Ren's hair as well. In addition, we get a conversation from our boss Conan who talks about repairing the library. Depending on options, we also meet up with two friends while walking home, Jay and Leon. As I'm aware, these are the major changes that happen in the first day.

During the second day, Ren accompanies Angel out on a date before the two run into Leon and Teo, Angel's ex (or fling). Teo and Ren get very bitter towards each other, showcasing that Teo is kind of a bad ex, still being rather possessive towards Angel while Leon tries to keep everyone's cool. Afterwards, Angel and Ren go eat out in a cafe (with an easter egg that Angel can actually like an goth look that they see a passerby with, a reference to Redacted's look). Angel and Ren decide to go to a store where a girl named Olivia starts flirting with Ren. Ren is clearly uncomfortable, but Angel sees this as a possibility that Ren might be interested in her, due to how they were treated by Teo in the past. As the two end their date, it starts to rain and Ren goes out to get an umbrella. After taking a long time, Angel starts to believe that Ren has ditched them and can choose to leave or stay. Either way, Ren comes back in the nick of time and offers them to either go to their place or Ren's (though in the end the two go to Ren's). Ren's place is very clean and modern, almost as if it was never really used, fitting considering Ren is a programmer. Ren insists on Angel staying (through glitchy text) and they can either decide to stay in their room or have a good time with Ren in his room.

The next day, Ren makes Angel some breakfast (and cute moments) before Angel heads out back to work. It seems that Elanor has some work to do and one of the shelves fell on her thus causing her to leave early (wonder who could have caused that). Elanor's sister, Kiara comes to visit and hang out as well. Teo comes in as well and immediately goes towards Elanor who gets smitten with him. Angel can decide to join in on Teo and Kiara's "date" to make sure nothing happens to her, but not before Conan pulls them aside to make sure they're safe (in general) because of the accident that Elanor had. If they do they end up all going to a bookstore where Angel finds Ren reading behind some shelves, but not before being interrupted by Moth who calls them and chats them up. Leon then also suggests having a double date at an aquarium the next day (this is also the same thing he asks if you decide to not join in on the date and instead go home). They briefly meet Olivia outside their apartment who asks what their relationship with Ren is before leaving. In the end they go home where they can invite someone over, go to their place or call them. With Elanor, Angel will air out their distaste for Teo and warns her to be careful, with Violet, the two discuss the date and Angel's feelings on it, with Conan, they chat a bit about the discussion, with Jae, they chat a bit before talking about the date, Angel talks to Leon about how worried they are about Teo and Elanor, Angel and Teo snidely talk about each other and Moth chat about the date as well, but all of them either send Angel home because of a phone call or the reception gets busted in some way or another. Ren also ends up coming over at the end of all of these, talking about the murder, the place that Angel is living at before watching a movie and possibly having more sexy times. There are also some easter eggs for certain people as well if you are so inclined.

First of all, I will say that the game really maintains the quality of visuals and coding as everything is as clean and as beautiful as when I first played it. Always something nice that's added. I like that you now have the option to change pronouns when you'd like and that you can change the message on your phone and see other character's messages as well. It's a good way to integrate the world inside of the game and it looks good. Each ending where Angel refuses to date Ren has of course Ren booting them back into the main menu and the addition of adding various glitchy effects that stack up as the game goes on depending on choice is a very nice thing as well. It makes me wonder about what consequences it may have in the future. Having to choose Ren's hair length via Haruka's hair length is fun too and changes the cgs as well which is kind of cool to see. There's more hints of Ren's interference, causing the bookshelf to fall on Elanor, causing any phone calls to be abruptly interrupted to to interference and causing any in person meetings to be interrupted by phone calls. One of the things that I didn't particularly like changed was the event that Olivia dies after her first encounter with Ren, while Angel is waiting for him to get the umbrella. It's shown only through the special screen with the character message stating that she's offline in a very eerie way, something that was a great way to show that Ren had done something to her without explicitly saying it. Of course, in this version, Olivia does not die and instead Angel seems her in the apartment. I can see why it was changed as Ren is shown to be more of a lighter yandere, but I really liked the way that it subtly showed Ren dealing with her in a previous version. Another thing that confused me was the call (video call?) that Angel has with Moth at the bookstore. After seeing Moth's sprite I legitimately thought that they were actually at the store for most of the conversation and I only was able to tell it was a call based on the text box itself. I think a better way to display this is if either Moth's sprite was a bit more transparent or it was changed to be placed in a box to indicate that it was call. The last thing is more of a bug, but if you have skipping on and you hold down the skip key while starting the game, you can actually play the entire game without seeing a single sprite, as you didn't answer the intro questions of name, streamer mode, etc. It also resets when you back to the do answer those questions. Probably can be fixed easily by preventing skipping at least until you actually get to the dialogue.

We get more backstory with Angel and their relationships, especially with Teo. We can see why they are a lot more reserved when it comes to their relationship with Ren, given that they were not treated well when it came to Teo and thus has lingering doubts on whether Angel actually loves them or not. It makes the Olivia and Ren interaction and going home early make more sense (though I am kind of surprised that Angel would want to even talk to Teo given that they probably aren't really on good terms. That and he's a jerk). Most of the conversations after the date talk about Teo as a person and how most of them want to believe that Teo is actually getting better as a person, which seems... weird, given that his behavior does not show otherwise. Personally, I think it's really weird that Angel would even approve Elanor and Teo going on dates in the first place, given that Teo seems to be a terrible person and is the kind that cheats very easily, where Elanor is the type that is more romantic. It is addressed after the various dates and you can actually tell Elanor in person, but I think it's very strange everyone wants these two to actually date given how very different their personalities are and Teo being kind of a huge jerk. I suppose its more like the fact that you can't control if they wanted to date, but I would have thought Angel would have warned Elenor about him considering what Angel and Teo's relationship was like.

Overall, I think the game is making good progression on where it is. Right now it's a little slow though, mostly focusing on dating lives and whatnot, but hopefully we can also get to the mysterious murders that are happening soon enough. Ren is still cute as always and it's fun that you can still tease him in his various scenes.

[soveru]

SWTOR: Sith Inquisitor OC Headcanons

Hi everyone! This is the third time I've completed the Sith Inquisitor storyline and the first time I've running the DLC KOTFE/KOTET. So, in order to save and maybe share my vision of my character in the game, I have compiled a list of headcanons :Р

Noted: i'm not a native speaker of english and all this headcannons runs only in my mind, so don't take them too seriously pls

Spoiler alert under the cut (and a few screenshots from a game too)

Sith Inqusitor OC Headcanons

Meet Ha'leth Kallig, Darth Nox, Alliance Commander and so go on. The Sith on dark side, but making a bunch of "light" choices just becouse they profitable (and she's reasonable)

Woman sith inquisitor (oh i love so much her voice ❤)

So... i imagine she's much older, than in canon. Like if all story classes starts mid Cold War between Republic and Empire, i think my version have a seat in a dark council in the mid of war (near 3670, 11 years after Sith returns Korriban) Yes, its breaks the timeline, but she is old pretty lady in my head, and i can't change this

I can't create the proper version in game (a lot because its no long flat hairstyles) so i have a few pictures

Fashion lady 💅 Usually wears a long dress with slits, mid-thigh boots, mid-shoulder gloves and a cape. Sometimes changes to something close to a "hakama" (if you've watched the Ahsoka series - Morgan Elsbeth wears something similar). Maybe someday I'll draw all of this

Had a purple sword during acolyte, serving Zash and hunting Thanaton, now she has white (cos of her "balance")

I guess she really cares about her crew, even if she is on a dark side. Alliance included

Continues to search for Force Ghosts, there is no reason why the Sith Lord would not do this after defeating Thanaton "SI to Valkorion: - I always hoped to add your spirit to my collection Valcorion: - I would say the same"

Space stand up comedian, jokes on everything, black humor and sarcastic

DiFfErentLy RaTioNal, "Hippity Hoppity, this ghost is now my property" (c) - during the original storyline

Ice cream lover, of course

Chill guy vibes sometimes

I think it was a long time since she became a member of the Dark Council and before the Eternal Empire attacked. And all this time the pyramid of ancient knowledge was under her control and I think she learned a lot about the philosophy of the Sith, ancient techniques, etc.

Yes, in my story she is the leader of the Alliance, despite the fact that other forse-user characters (Jedi Knight, Jedi Consular, Sith Warrior) in my headcanons also take part in it

I think she is definitely chaotic but rational in managing the alliance. I haven't reached the end of the story yet, but in my mind she is the perfect candidate for the Eternal Throne.

She is not human anymore. Not after the Rakata machine changed her. I think sometimes she would appeal to this in her dialogues with other characters. In my head - this is another reason why she at 60+ looks at most 30

Did I not say? At the time of the events of KOTFE she should be somewhere around 63))

Definitely likes big machines)) (i'd like to think that exposes for Darth Malgus too 🤣)

Definitely likes ancient stories, artifacts and history.

"Oh dear", "Sweetheart" and any other embarrassing appeal for literally everyone

Flirts with everything that moves (and what doesn't move, she moves and flirts with) (Ah, i can't wait to return of Malgus further on in the plot, because flirting with him is something she would definitely do in every interaction)

Return to Dromund Cass to be shot down in Empress Acina's shuttle and crash into the jungle: "Ah, at least the Sith Empire hasn't changed too much in my absence"

Well, according to canon, all four force-user characters are the most powerful force-users in the galaxy. But considering that Valkorion is sitting in the Commander's head + her additional "ghosts of the Sith Lords on the wire" make her, if not the strongest, then at least the most dangerous of them by the end of the story

As I said before - all headcanons are just part of the story in my head that i want to share cos sith inqusutor is my favorite story) I think I'll definitely post a couple more heads up about her or heads up about other SWTOR characters later (at least when I finish the story) I also plan to sketch a couple of moments, because I really want to

[seventeenlovesthree]

Yamato Ishida's clothing style - a meta analysis

Since Yamato has won the fashion analysis poll ahead of Sora, Mimi, Takeru and Hikari, he'll be the third to get one after Koushirou and Taichi. Fortunately - and interestingly enough -, he might be one of the easier cases among all the Chosen Children, because he has very consistent themes and motifs going on, so let's get this on step by step:

Adventure (+ Our War Game), age 11/12:

Even though the kids do not change clothes very often throughout the series, we can still find a few of the aforementioned "themes and motifs" for Yamato here: Starting with his signature sleeveless/turtleneck shirt in Adventure, his favourite - and thus associated - colour appears to be green and since he seems to prefer overall dark colours, you will usually (but not exclusively) see him wear darker shades. This can also be observed during OWG, where he wears a dark brown button-down shirt - which will turn out to be a common theme in addition to dark jeans or pants. Plus, unlike most of the other male characters, you will almost NEVER see him wear sneakers, because he's clearly a "boots" kind of guy.

As for his hair, this is where the classic "cool boy haircut" with the spikes and side fringe found its origins (which is also pretty close to how his father wears his hair).

02 (+ Diablomon Strikes Back), age 14/15:

This is where the "rockstar phase" begins and even though green doesn't make an appearance here, he consistently sticks to dark colours - mostly blacks and browns - as well as complementing boots, button-downs or turtlenecks. Despite him being the leader of his own band, his style is something I would personally describe as very neat, almost unagitated and thus more in line with his introverted side - which can be interpreted as him trying to be somewhat lowkey, not intending to attract too much attention. But at the same time, his style (= dark clothes in contrast to his blond hair) naturally creates a sense of "mysterious aloofness" (as it may be described by his fans, such as Jun. While it is also never explicitly stated, we know that he has European/French genes from his mother's side, so this may or may not add to his visual appearance easily attracting attention and popularity).

In terms of his school uniform, he doesn't go all out on being extravagant either, but instead chooses "the middle ground" between Taichi's "loose and casual" and Koushirou's "neat and correct" style by wearing the blazer closed but leaving out the tie. It's still overall very correct, with a hue of "coolness".

Diablomon Strikes Back then adds two more motifs for him, implying him becoming more and more comfortable growing into "his own": From this point on, we will see him wear little accessories like rings and necklaces - which, as we will see later, may even have a link to Gabumon one way or another. He also starts to wear more layers from now on, such as (college or leather) jackets - which will become more prominent later.

The "cool boy haircut" has grown out a little, softening the spikes. Not only could this be seen as him "differentiating" himself a little from his father (which is a common interpretation of the hairstyle change); it also gives him more of a J-pop-star vibe and makes him appear more "chill" in general (whereas I can only assume he was considered more of a "surfer boy" in Western fandoms back in the day).

Tri, age 17:

While he has cut his (still softened) hair a little bit shorter again, he overall maintains an effortlessly "casual but cool" style: Not only have the green tones returned to his wardrobe, the boots are also still there (even if they're not visible on the picture evidence). The ensemble is usually complimented by elements from his aforementioned DSB/"rockstar" phase: We see him wearing necklaces and chains in his everyday outfits, simple (black, green or even white) shirts with or without prints and with or without cardigans or jackets - and we can also tell he has gotten generally more daring (and a little less "tame") by wearing ripped jeans.

His school uniform is still more or less "neat", but even though he has added the tie, he wears everything more loosely than he did in 02. For his Summer school uniform, he also chooses to wear a long-sleeved shirt rolled up - instead of the short-sleeved ones all the other male characters wear.

Kizuna, age 22:

As a young adult, he basically tries to marry the majority of his previously mentioned themes into one consistent style: His signature cool-boy hairstyle - neat, short, spiky - has returned as well as the dark greens and the boots. In general, his colour palette consists of green, black and white - with an interesting case of grey in the middle of the movie. Similarly to Taichi, this may or may not have some special implications: Taichi wears an asymmetrical shirt, black on the left (covering his "heart"), blue (his favourite colour) and white on the right ("light") side, indicating his insecurities in terms of what's the right path. In contrast, Takeru wears all of his associated colours (VERY colourful green shades), as does Koushirou (orange), while also wearing a pristine white shirt - they're both not at risk of losing their partners, they're both on the light side, whereas Yamato and Taichi are completely at a loss. Yamato, who wears a grey button-down shirt, appears to be just as torn about his future and current situation as Taichi is, having abandoned his beloved music and hesitantly contemplating a future in the military. Which is also why he may wear a dog tag - and, as mentioned previously, this may also be a reminder of his bond to Gabumon after all. (And on a lovely little side note, I assume that Takeru starts wearing necklaces at the time of The Beginning to signify his own bond to Yamato.)

In terms of layers, we see him wear leather jackets, blazers and vests, everything being mostly "neat and correct" (again), with the same sense of effortless coolness he always had (but, if you wanna follow Kizuna's course of action, it may also display a sense of insecurity that leads him to choose style cues from the past over trying to move forward. I do like his Kizuna style and there is nothing wrong with returning to what you are familiar with, especially because most of it is definitely and consistently "him" - but that interpretation would also be in line with Kizuna's message, "forcing" oneself to conform and be a responsible adult.) One interesting addition are the red (!) glasses he wears during lectures, which is a colour we haven't seen him consider before. (Since it's "red", a possible interpretation could be that Sora gifted it to him - Kizuna is very persistent with its colours after all.)

Beyond, ???

Now things are getting a little more tricky, because we do not exactly know how old Yamato is supposed to be in these sketches - since this could be Kakudou's interpretation of post 02/DSB!Yamato as well as him being somewhere in his later 20's, also according to Kakudou's vision. I've tried to put my thoughts on this style into words here already, but to summarize it very quickly here: It's interesting that we see the grown-out 02 haircut again, as well as the earring - if we follow my interpretation of 02!Yamato, this only means that he has grown even more comfortable with himself to dress and present himself as less neat and also "less spiky" (= less aggressive in personality).

The epilogue, approximately age 39:

Last but not least, the epilogue shows our astronaut choosing the same colour palette and style cues 02!Yamato had already been famous for: Blacks and browns, glimpses of beige, a turtleneck and a (leather) jacket. His hairstyle is back to being the exact same as his father's - and as for now, there is not a lot to say about that without having the full context of where "Beyond" may eventually lead him in this timeline.

So my final verdict is: As mentioned at the beginning of this post, most of Yamato's style choices have a coherent theme: cool, effortless, mostly unagitated, sophisticated and tame, but with a glimpse of growing "rebellion". You can tell he confidently knows his favourite colours - mostly dark greens, black and brown with softening tints of grey, beige and white. He loves his (short or no-sleeved) shirts (with or without print), button-downs, turtlenecks and boots - and sometimes even dares to put on something like leather jackets or vests over those. What he appears to be a little unsure about is the consistent usage of accessories - and his hairstyle.

While the dog tag may be one of his more prominent features at this point (potentially signifying his bond with Gabumon), the state of his hair may or may not indicate how comfortable he is with his identity. Next to Taichi and Sora - and due to him still dealing with the aftermath of his parents' divorce -, he is the one who struggles the most with where he sees himself in the future. We know he has a high sense of responsibility (especially for those he cares about) and tries to find rational solutions, but may let his emotions get the best of him sometimes, hindering communication, so that may be where the inconsistencies stem from. While his clothing style is mostly tame and neat, indicating his wish for order, it has these little moments of (emotional) "rebellion" in it at times; rings, necklaces, ripped jeans - all things he tried out at some point, but doesn't seem to be 100% sure of, since he doesn't consistently wear them. Whether that's because he feels like he has to conform and fit into society as he grows older, abandoning music because it's not a "feasible career" - or simply feels more comfortable wearing his signature haircut (and "what he already knows") once again. One could also interpret his return to his old hairstyle as a sign that he may have grown closer to his father, thus feeling more comfortable "merging" all these style elements and finding a middle ground, slowly but steadily - but whether or not that is true, I am not able to tell.

[evilcarmona]

Fem!Sokka AU

So, I thought a little about this AU.

(For starters, I don't speak english, so, well.. ehe)

To begin with, she is at least 19-20 years old. I would like to make her older, because I like to draw beautiful adult women, but then the plot will not work. The age of all older ATLA teenagers has been raised. The age of the younger ones does not change.

The story is the same. Initially, Sokka is a man. He probably remained the only boy in the tribe for longer. This may affect Katara, as he has been her parent figure for longer than in the canon. In general, I believe in Sokka's parental vibes.

He's also a little more mature. Responsible, strong. But still a sexist. Father said that he was the only warrior of the tribe. Then he left them and went away with other men for many years. It couldn't end well. On the other hand, living among women affects Sokka more than he thinks.

So, about after Kiyoshi Island, gaang stops at the shrine of a female warrior. This is not Kyoshi, because I don't want Aang to feel that he is indirectly to blame for the situation. In general, Sokka offends the spirit with some kind of sexist comment. The Spirit takes revenge and curses him. Sokka falls into a magic pond. Poof! He's a woman. Aang has talked to the spirit, and the spirit is ready to cast spells on the water in the pond again. But she won't do it for two years. Lol

So, Sokka can only put up with it. Saving the world is more important than a little curse. Somewhere in the background, Zuko is trying to figure out where gaang took this beautiful woman and where they put that beautiful man. Really, where did he go? (Uncle Iroh is very funny)

The fact is that during the journey, Sokka realizes that he actually feels good. He likes it. In addition, he likes to be beautiful and do hairstyles.

Besides, becoming a woman, he feels the injustice of the situation at the north Pole more acutely. Sokka understands that putting someone in a frame because of gender is unfair. He and Yue become friends. Sokka kicks Khann's ass. And he also kills Zhao before the disaster with the Moon happens. Yue deserves to live.

In the future, Sokka thinks a lot. He supports his sister and Toph more than anyone. In fact, he used to have his father's vibes. Now it's the mother's vibes. Vibes of the coolest mom in the world. She can cut off the offenders' heads with a halberd. Literally.

In fact, I have nothing to justify the halberd with. I love halberds as much as I love women in sexy dresses. A lady may have small hobbies)

Okay, maybe Sokka decided to explore more weapons. She loves her boomerang, but does not refuse to develop like a warrior. Halberd is clearly defeating bending, haha. Maybe Sokka will be given some cool nickname on the battlefield. The Moon Witch? Heh

(Somewhere far away, Hakoda and the South Pole fleet are wondering what kind of Moon Witch is this? They will be surprised)

Perhaps before they meet after Ba Sing Se, Hakoda meets someone who has met the gaang before. Someone: You have two wonderful daughters! Hakoda: What?

So Zuko comes to gaang and asks where the boy has gone. The explanation was awkward because Zuko barely had time to accept that he was bi. What does it mean that the two people who make his heart beat faster are one person?

I forgot to tell you! Just because Sokka was bewitched by a spirit doesn't mean that Sokka trusts Aunt Wu! It's a matter of pride, lol

So two years go by, and you know what? Sokka does not ask the spirit to lift the curse. He's fine as it is.

[pillowbugs]

so uh. that poto au i did just over a week ago.

was playing around with some ships to figure out who would fit the roles of the other characters, and landed on airplaneshipping for christine and raoul. preferably ignore all the plot that would have to happen to lead to this point. (the scene where the phantom shoots fireballs, except in the pokémon universe it's a full on battle against the phantom and his chandelure. for an added bonus, look up the name of the 'song' sung during this part of the musical.)

unmasked ver. (additional design notes under cut)

elesa:

christine's dress in this scene is light blue, which is a colour that is indeed present in elesa's design (her bw2 outfit moreso). elesa not wearing any yellow felt wrong though, which is why the layers underneath are yellow-tinted.

went with her bw1 hair colour because christine was blonde in the original book.

her cloak is mostly based off her bw2 jacket in shape; it's black with a red clasp, which makes it not only similar to the cloak donned by christine in the musical but also retains the same idea of the cloak being a visual representation of the phantom's (who wears mostly black) hold over them. (+ the other colour ingo is most associated with is red.)

however, because of the lighting, said cloak appears yellow on the side closer to skyla - more similar to her canon design, and being close to skyla in a way rids her of the darkness.

she gets to change her hairstyle as a treat.

skyla:

it wasn't common for women to wear waistcoats at the time (1900s), but sapphics in history quite famously fucked with a lot of gender norms.

actually both of these lovebirds are blue now. sets up a colour contrast between the lighter, friendlier blues of the couple and the darkness and reds of the phantom. (blue = friend and red = foe like it's fire emblem)

the way swanna is placed is intentional, to set up a more angelic imagery mirroring the phantom's darker version (more on that in a bit).

both women wear matching white roses in their hair. something something flower symbolism. but skyla does also have feathers in her hair, for obvious reasons.

swoobat because hearts :D

ingo:

was debating on whether to make him actually more deformed in this au, but didn't really feel in the mood to sit down and design it in detail for this piece.

there isn't much i can say about his outfit design given it's literally just mashing his usual uniform together with his butler alt from masters. though upon actually looking up the phantom's outfit, the end result is actually surprisingly close. not surprising given both wear victorian suits and primarily wear black.

my original concept for the au was that he still works with the subway, he just does it from the shadows instead of being a public figure - hence he still wears a train conductor's hat. though since the battle subway isn't a thing (or at least not in the form we know it) he doesn't have its logo.

his cloak is intentionally flared up in this scene, for a few reasons: 1) it looks cool, 2) it resembles gliscor (albeit it isn't present here) and 3) mirrors skyla with a darker angelic imagery - the original musical had the whole "angel of music / death" thing.

i actually went through quite a few variations of his mask before settling on this one, and even then i'm not entirely satisfied with it.

version 1: exactly the same as the one used in most advertising for the musical - decently terrifying, but considering ingo's main 'issue' is his mouth, which this (and the one actually used within the musical) doesn't cover, this would be completely useless aside from probably hiding his identity and especially his resemblance to emmet.

version 2: leaned more into the angle of trying to alter his expression, particularly to be smiling instead - to be more similar to his brother. also suitably unsettling, but this specific style wouldn't work if you looked at him from any angle besides this one though. also, from this angle, because his actual mouth is obscured, i was worried he would actually be mistaken for emmet instead (given generally fandom tends to make emmet the unhinged one - let ingo have some fun too, guys).

version 3, the one i went with: has patterns at the cheeks simulating the edges of a smile (and also has the black-on-white contrast); his actual mouth is hidden but visible through the cloth.

why is there a litwick on the gravestone? good question!

in all honesty, this was part me drawing blorbos into an au and part me conceptualising what the pokémon universe version of POTO would look like.

[youracebuddy]

Falling Asleep in Your Arms

Reboot Wally x Reader

Age Rating- Teen

Word Count- 2,029

This can also be found on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60482998

This work is dedicated to @kawaiialeisha !

This work can SOMEWHAT be seen as a sequel to my other story, I'm in Love with my Best Friend, but neither of the two require you to read the other one! :)

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

“Do we really have to bring this up again?” Julie whined, rolling her eyes and letting out a deep, dramatic sigh as she splayed over the bench that her and Sally were seated on.

“It was the style back then! It’s not MY fault that I wanted to be fashionable!” She grumbled, shooting daggers at her now-laughing friends. You were trying your best to not laugh along with them, but their laughter was too infectious for you to stop it. After trying to resist it for just a little bit longer, you burst into laughter along with everyone else.

With your addition to the chorus of laughter, Julie snapped her head over to her girlfriend- Sally- with big, pleading eyes. Sally just shook her head, clearly fond of her but tired of her antics. Julie let out another dramatic sigh, bringing her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose out of annoyance.

“We’re not wrong, Jules. You looked even more like a dog than me!” Barnaby wheezed, slapping his knee with a paw.

Eddie and Frank stood adjacent to him, Eddie poorly stifling his laughter and Frank eying everyone with an amused smirk. Naturally, the two of them were holding hands as usual, like the adorable couple that they were.

“I’m frankly glad that you decided to cut it, Julie- I was worried that I would lose all of the insects I spent so long studying to your hair.” Frank mused, deciding to throw in his own joke. Eddie burst out into laughter, which was what Frank seemingly wanted, as their expression softened with affection at the sight of him laughing at their joke.

“I’m just glad that I never have to get that much hairspray for my store again! You were going through five bottles a day, Julie!” Howdy added, his four arms rested comfortably at his sides. “My arms were SO much more sore, with me having to restock the stuff almost constantly!”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Poppy scolded, now chirping in to put an end to the teasing. She walked over to Sally, placing a reassuring wing on her shoulder.

“It was a good hairstyle, Baby! Just… unique, is all. I come to you to do my feathers for good reason, you know! I would NEVER let someone with poor fashion sense within miles of my feathers!” Poppy explained, shooting one last glare at the group to emphasize her point.

Everyone nodded, letting out a quiet mumble of “sorry” and other hushed apologies. Poppy nodded, content that everything was resolved, and went back to her previous spot next to Howdy.

After her scolding, a familiar but comfortable quiet took over the group. It was normal for these silences to take over during the time where everyone thought about stories to tell each other.

This time around, however, you would be the one to break it.

“Oh, Poppy! Before I forget to ask, how do you get your bread loaves to be that nice and crunchy on the outside? I tried to make mine as crunchy as yours, but I just ended up burning it. Thank god I know someone who’s a walking trash disposal.” With that final line, you gestured to Barnaby, who took on a serious expression and a salute.

“It is both a great honor and responsibility that I bear.” He spoke, even taking off his hat and clutching it to his chest for dramatic effect. You let out a snort at his antics, before shifting your attention back to Poppy. She looked positively ecstatic at the idea of talking about baking.

“Well, why didn’t you mention it earlier, Muffin? I would be happy to help anytime! But, to get back to your question…” She trailed off, tapping the tip of her beak with her wing in thought.

“Oh, of course! The trick to making the outside of your bread loafs so thick and crunchy is to put a tray of water underneath it as it bakes! The evaporating water helps it firm up!” She explained, beaming with pride.

“Huh, weird. Never would have guessed it! Thank you, Poppy!” You exclaimed, a soft smile adorning your features in thanks. She nodded in return, clearly happy about where this conversation was going.

“If you’re ever interested in learning, I could teach you how to make as many pastries as you please! I may be a gentle bird, but I'm a real force to be reckoned with behind my cooking supplies!” She cooed, her clawed feet gently tapping against the ground out of excitement.

“Well, that depends on one thing! Barnaby?” You asked, looking back over to him. He nodded, patting his belly as he spoke.

“Of course! I’m hungry just thinking about it!”

“...Barnaby, didn’t you eat just a few minutes ago?” Frank spoke, clearly confused and a bit worried that he was already hungry.

“Maybe, but this pup’s got more than just a hollow leg!” He barked out, yet again bursting into laughter. You soon joined him, cheeks already aching at how much you were smiling.

Speaking of someone making you smile, you only now noticed that Wally did not even mutter a peep this whole conversation. Worry quickly taking over your brain from the fact that he usually is the main one to talk, you finally looked over to him.

He was still seated at your side, resting his hand in his palms and patiently watching you, as he usually did. It was a bit off-putting when he first started doing it, but you quickly learned that it was just his way of expressing affection. Mimicking his actions, you rested your head in your own palm, looking back at him with the same gentle expression that he always had when he was gazing at you.

He quickly snapped out of his trance at the sight of you mimicking him, letting out a small, contented noise now that your focus was back on him.

“It took you long enough, Doll~” He gently teased, wasting no time scooting back over to you, holding his arms out. Without even having to think with how practiced the motion was, you scooped him up in your own arms, lifting him up and placing him down in your lap, sitting him down to face you. Then, just as he always did, he wrapped his arms and legs around you, slowly nuzzling his face into your neck.

He squirmed around for a few seconds, before completely melting into you once more. To fulfill your side of the embrace, you tenderly wrapped your arms around him, resting your head in his messy pompadour. It was just as soft as you remembered, with the familiar and comforting scent of apples that he always had.

With the two of you now firmly wrapped around the other, Wally let out a quiet, contented sigh against you, the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

With his clinginess now accounted for, you looked up to check on how the others were doing. They weren’t phazed in the slightest by your lovey-dovey actions, as they have seen them enough times from before the two of you were dating that it basically made no difference when you did actually get together.

Focusing back on the conversation, you tried your best to pick up on what they were now talking about.

“-But then how on earth did my hotdog supply suddenly disappear, Barnaby? You and I both know that they couldn’t have flown away!” Howdy growled, arms folded firmly in front of him. The smile that had graced his features previously was now replaced with an annoyed scowl.

“You’re right. They’re not pigs, aren’t they?” Barnaby joked, wiping the nonexistent sweat off of his brow. For someone who always was relaxed and chill, he looked quite nervous.

“Oh, come on Barnaby! I already have to deal with Wally stealing all of the apples- of which Neighbor has tried to pay for multiple times- and now I have to deal with this!” Howdy groaned, lifting one of his hands up to smooth down any stray hairs that might have gotten misplaced during the dispute.

“Well, if you really are so innocent, then I’m sure that someone will be able to defend you.” Howdy finally settled on, his expression quickly turning smug.

Barnaby looked like he wanted to die right then and there.

He frantically looked around to the others, and was promptly met with a cold shoulder. With nothing else to give, he turned to you and Wally.

“Wally. I didn’t steal the hotdogs, right?”

Howdy was going to make a snarky remark to that, but stopped in his tracks when he heard no response from Wally.

“...Wally?” Barnaby spoke, narrowing his eyes at his figure.

Now suddenly involved in this argument, you quickly looked back down to him, searching his expression for answers.

…

He was asleep.

His head was buried comfortably into your chest, his face weary but calm. He told you before that he was really tired, but you never expected it to get to a point that he would fall asleep in your arms.

“Walls…” You whispered, trying to gently coax him out of his sleep. Once that didn’t work, you attempted to gently shake him by the shoulders.

This did seem to stir something in his consciousness, as he let out a little mumble of protest before slowly waking up. He sat himself back up in your lap, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before meeting your gaze. When it clicked in his sleepy brain that you were- well- you, his face lit up with an almost childlike wonder.

With absolutely no barriers to stop his affection in his sleep-deprived mind, he managed to completely snuggle himself into you within a matter of seconds. When he was as close as he possibly could be, he settled his head back comfortably on your chest, staring up at you with his shimmering, loving lavender eyes.

Just as he did before, he simply observed you with a lovestruck smile. If there was anything that his tired brain wanted, it was affection. And he was clearly quite adamant on getting it.

You rolled your eyes, letting out a small huff of faux-annoyance. You leaned your face towards his, tenderly nuzzling your face against his. He returned it happily, absorbing the touch like a sponge.

You couldn’t help but giggle, as he was basically acting like a giant, cuddly cat right now. Holding onto you, refusing to let go, and demanding affection? It was almost a perfect 1:1 copy in your eyes.

Wanting to have your face free so you could breathe without directly inhaling his hair, you gingerly held his head by the cheeks and held him back. He tried to shake his head out of your grip, but you relented. By the time he realized that he wasn’t going to get out, he just started nuzzling into the next best thing- your hands.

He grabbed your hands to keep them in place, proceeding to softly bury his face into them. You could feel your heart pounding at your ribcage from the combination of the sight and how his face felt against your hands, so what he did next was practically a death sentence.

He wiggled his head slightly through your hands, just enough so he could go back to watching you as usual. But, with how tired he was in the first place, he just ended up drifting back to sleep, face still buried into your hands.

After a quick confirmation that he was actually asleep, you quickly brought him back to rest against you, squealing quietly to yourself. The urge to pinch his cheeks like an old grandma was INCREDIBLY STRONG, but you managed to somehow resist it.

With him now safely tucked up into you, you looked up to your friends to see if they would be fine with you leaving with Wally a bit earlier than usual. They all seemed to get the gist of what was going on quickly, shooing you away with teasing smiles and comments.

...

In the end, you needed that rest just as much as Wally did.

[lukeria314]

“We are all alike, on the inside”

It amuses me how strangely the BSD fandom (especially the English-speaking side) treats two very similar characters. And similar not just in personality, but even in appearance. Mori Ougai and Fyodor Dostoevsky look almost identical—they have the same face, eyes, and hairstyle (if Mori let his ponytail down, he’d look exactly like him). Even their heights aren’t that different (based on my calculations from the available frames, Fyodor is approximately 168 cm tall). And in their actions and thought processes, they are quite alike as well.

The thing is, both of them find a unique benefit in every person they encounter and use those benefits for their own plans or for their organizations. However, while Fyodor’s entire plan relies completely on the people around him, Mori uses them as “additional tools”—only for certain parts of his plan, never fully depending on them. No matter what, Mori will achieve his goals using his own intellect, which already holds the blueprint for multiple possible scenarios. He is willing to go to any lengths to protect Yokohama and the Port Mafia. He treats his subordinates as auxiliary pieces, never letting them have full control over his plans, ensuring that nothing collapses unexpectedly.

At the same time, Mori Ougai shows a certain respect toward the people in his organization. Take, for example, his interaction with Tachihara—when he discovered that Tachihara was the fifth Hunting Dog, he still gave him a choice. Or his words to Kouyou: “You are free to leave, you know no one will dare stop you.”

Fyodor, on the other hand, relies entirely on people due to his “gambling nature,” inherited from his namesake. His entire plan is built on a chain of individuals who, at the end of the day, are still human—chaotic and unpredictable. In “Decay of Angels””, they were practically all ready to betray each other. One of his mistakes was showing understanding toward Gogol, which led Gogol to see him as a weakness. After all, Nikolai is constantly running from himself, ensuring that no one truly knows him—not even himself. Fyodor’s entire plan could have fallen apart if he hadn’t anticipated that Mykola would come to free him from prison. But how exactly? By attempting to poison him. What if the poison had worked earlier than expected? What if Fukuchi had suddenly come to his senses and refused to go through with it? There were many points where Fyodor’s plan could have crumbled.

Moreover, both of them use children in their schemes. However, Mori did not willingly exploit Yosano during the Great War, nor did he have much use for Yumeno beyond destruction. With Chuuya and Dazai, he made deals—offering Chuuya the safety of his “Sheep” and giving Dazai a painless way to die. Even his infamous joke about preferring younger children can be interpreted as an acknowledgment that they are easier to manipulate. Yet, at the same time, his character is full of contradictions—children are both his weakness and his soft spot. Deep down, he wishes he could be gentler with them and indulges their whims whenever possible.

Fyodor, on the other hand, has no qualms about using children in ways that lead to their deaths. Remember how mercilessly he killed the boy Karma after defeating Ace? Or the little sister of the “fake Pushkin”? He forced her, in order to protect her brother, to put on a necklace of grenades and pull the pin the moment the man with the notebook tried to use it.

In the end, Mori protects his city, Yokohama, his organization, and will do anything for its prosperity. But what about the crazed old man wandering the world, seeking to solve everything through war, blood, and nations—forgetting the will of God?

Executioners, cut off my head if you must, but I will won’t change my mind until the end.

[noirandchocolate]

It's the winner of my poll, so I hope you'll enjoy a nice big post about...

Yiga Clan Mask Culture and Traditions Headcanons!

History

The Clan adopted the practice of wearing masks fairly early on after their founding 10,000 years ago. Veils were already worn by powerful Sheikah monks as a symbol of martial prowess (being able to fight with hampered or absent sight), wisdom (being able to "see" what others could not, despite or because of a self-imposed "blindness"), and asceticism (being humble and near-anonymous). Those among the ancient Sheikah who worked as assassins, spies, guardians, and interrogators for the Crown also tended to wear masks covering at least part of the face. So, when the Sheikah who decided to defy the ancient King's genocide banded together to form the Yiga Clan, taking to wearing masks and veils to obscure their identities was a natural choice. The early Clan's face-coverings were among the first items they painted with the Inverted Eye that became the symbol of the group's defiance of their prior role as Hylia's chosen protectors and servants of the royal family.

The original Master Kohga, who had been the Chief of the Sheikah settlements around Satori Mountain, never actually wore a mask! (The practice of doing so had not fully standardized yet.) Instead, he took up wearing a veil to honor his grandfather, Monk Mogg Latan, and as a sign to those who would ask him and his people to shed their heritage, that he would not back down.

However, the First Master did provide the origin to one aspect of his successors' masks: While Sheikah who were considered masters in their chosen fields (including monks) traditionally wore a hairstyle featuring five long ornamental sticks, the First Master chose to wear six, as a symbol of a) his people's split from the Royal Family (cut an arrayed set of five sticks straight in half and you end up with six sticks--the formerly central one broken down the middle), and b) their continued claim to the power associated with the number three (note that the Sheikah monks found in Shrines (and Maz Koshia) all wear/display six golden bracelets). As you know, the current Master mask now features three horns on each side!

As time went on, in addition to providing protection and anonymity to Clan members particularly when traveling outside their main "hideout" base in Karusa Valley, the masks also became a unifying aspect of membership and family within the group. In other words, the masks are not only meant to hide one's face from outsiders, but to signal to insiders the bond between them. All within the Clan may don the mask, all may wear the same "face." All carry the symbol of the Inverted Eye. All are working together, all are playing their part. The Clan as a whole is quite a collectivist culture; the masks are one very obvious aspect of that.

The current mask designs have been in place for several millennia now, but it did take some time for the style to "settle" into this level of tradition and immutability. The Yiga have quite ancient scrolls and artworks depicting their ancestors wearing different styles of masks, including curved rectangular ones mimicking the shape of ancient monks' veils, and more complicated and demonic or deity-looking masks for Masters. During one period a few centuries into the Clan's existence, another Hylian monarch (this time, a Queen) sent troops across the kingdom to search for any remaining Sheikah (remember, Kakariko Village was "hidden" to most) to eradicate them. The Yiga began to appear "out of nowhere" to wreak havoc and sow discord among scouts and military camps, wearing masks painted with the inverted eye and large, red, smiling mouths. Quite unsettling!

How They're Made and How They Work

Masks are crafted of wood and, in the case only of the Master, an overlay of molduga bone. All those taking up the job of craft-work among the Yiga learn to make masks, but there have always been a few specially trained masters of the art who create masks and associated ornaments for the Master, Right Hand, presumptive Heir, and any spouse (Mistress or Consort) of the Master. These in particular are expected to be perfect, both in their specially-measured fit to the wearer's face and in their symmetry of shape and inlaid, painted design. And so, training to make them goes beyond the ordinary mask-maker's education, involving a great deal of practice but also meditation. A keen eye for detail and steady hands are paramount. These crafting masters are highly regarded, and often take on new names related in some way to their teachers', when they achieve their new position.

Yes, the masks are solid wood. Yiga are able to see "through" them using magic. The vast majority of current Clan members share a heritage that allows them to use magic (a subject for another post!) at least to some degree, and this Sight skill is one of the very first things Yiga are taught--whether as young children or as new additions if they join as teens or adults. As with many Yiga abilities (again, to be discussed in the future!), Sight has an accompanying rune/talisman that will keep it going perpetually. This is etched into an "active" mask when it is given to its owner. So, the owner puts on the mask, instantly starts the...for lack of a better word "spell," and then the rune keeps the ability "flowing" for as long as the user wishes.

Those vanishingly few Clan members who are completely devoid of magical ability must ask someone else to activate the rune for them. Unfortunately, their Sight through their masks is impaired by the fact that none of their own energy is being used to power the rune as it "flows." Such members do not take on/are not assigned to roles that will take them outside the Karusa Complex, as masks are absolutely required for such positions. Instead, they stay home, usually wear veils instead, and work within the Clan in other vital ways.

Current Designs

All Yiga masks save those for the Master and Right Hand share the same basic curved oval shape that contours around to cover the sides of the face, again for anonymity and conformity. Really the only difference about those two, too, is the addition of horns. All masks are marked with the Inverted Eye.

One other slightly different mask is that worn by the Heir, which is additionally marked by a curved slash of red down the sides of the face (most prominently visible in profile). This marks the Heir as one who is working to grow into leadership and one day wear a horned mask.

The horns on the Master and Right Hand's masks have that curved shape because they are meant to not only be horns, but flames. As in, flames of righteous fury against those who betrayed the Clan's ancestors, and the purifying flames of destruction they've hoped would purge the Kingdom of its ruling class! The red inlay of them of course matches the red of the Eyes, but also symbolizes the burning core of the Clan's intended vengeance.

The Master has three horns per side, and the Right Hand has one, so perhaps you've wondered: is there a two-horned mask? Why yes! I headcanon that there is! It is reserved for a Right Hand who is also the Heir. Which is not a very rare occurrence, since a Master would likely hope to rely on their Heir as their second-in-command, once they're of age and they've proven themself to be reliable, skilled, and powerful enough. (Great training to be Master themself one day!) Our current Best Guy Kohga remembers this mask as the one his father wore during his early childhood before his Nana died and Dad became Master. Kohga himself was also eventually given the two-horned mask when he became his father's Right Hand.

He was very proud to wear it.

He did not get to wear it for long.

The metal side ornaments on Yiga masks are meant to resemble fangs, and are meant to add an edge of ferociousness to the Clan's appearance. Even members who are not actively working in more martial positions wear them--a style similar to Footsoldiers', but with the subtle difference that the center ridge of their three-ridged design is red, instead of the top one.

Footsoldiers' ornaments are straighter and dagger-like, evoking their prowess with smaller, more concealed weapons and bows. The top ridge colored red indicates that they are in a martial position and their work--and if necessary, their bloodshed--protects the more "civilian" population of the Karusa Complex.

Blademasters' ornaments are curved and sharper, a show of their ferocity with larger, well, blades. Although usually hidden by their hoods when in they're in full uniform, their ornaments do still feature the three ridges with the top one in red.

The Right Hand's ornaments share the basic shape of the Blademasters', but are segmented more smoothly down their whole length, with the final, sharp segment at the tip in red. These show that the Right Hand is at the top of the martial hierarchy of the Clan, at the forefront of the Clan's protection and ready to stain their weapons ("fangs") with the blood of their enemies.

Finally, Master Kohga's ornaments' more hooked shape are similarly meant to represent curved fangs, but the more rounded, shiny red end-pieces are meant to evoke skill not only with weapons but with the special arcane techniques only a Master is trained in. The larger, round, red center of their five-ridged design shows that Master Kohga is the central figure for the Clan--not just the Chief or "top banana," but someone who lives among their people and keeps them together. Powerful, deadly, but also a unifying force.

Traditions Surrounding Masks

As suggested above, Yiga children start wearing veils and practicing using the Sight technique pretty young, so they're prepared for donning their masks when the time comes. Kids officially get their first masks at the very start of the year during which they'll turn eleven. Depending on the Clan's birth rate for a particular year there might be only a few getting masks or there might be a big group. Getting one's mask involves...

A trip to Satori Mountain with Master Kohga! The Mountain being a very important place for the Clan, it has been chosen for the children's (usually) first time leaving the relative safety of Karusa Valley. The Master takes them to the sacred spring among the sakura trees near the top, where they remove their veils and put on their first masks. This ceremonial part of the trip is fairly short, and involves a pledge to stay safe beneath the mask and to work to the best of one's ability for the Clan. Then, the kids get to have some fun exploring, doing some fun little tasks set by the Master--things like "pick four different kinds of mushroom" or "find the tree marked with the Eye." This is meant to give the children not only a chance to practice using Sight out in the open, but the opportunity to get to know the Mountain...and...well, to run around being kids rolling in grass and climbing trees, out in the world under the sky, using the basic tracking and stealth skills they've been learning through their childhoods. (This is truly another of the current Kohga's favorite days of the year. Man loves the kiddos.)

Once you've received your mask, you're also considered old enough to start doing more involved chores around the Complex and figuring out what jobs and roles you might want to start really training for. So it's a Coming of Age kind of event! Children's mask ornaments are again the same as footsoldiers' and civilians', but they have the lowest ridge painted red. Under the protection of everyone else. They'll have these until they turn sixteen--another milestone.

Clan members are expected to keep their faces covered or disguised even at home, once they have been given their first masks. I've said it before but it belongs in a post on this topic: one's true face is, after that age, reserved for one's very immediate family. Parents, grandparents, siblings, spouse, and kids/grandkids. So, when a child goes up Satori Mountain at the start of their special year, the moment between when they take off their veil and when they put on their mask may be the last time they see the real faces of their friends with whom they share an age. Honestly, it's quite poignant, a sort of shedding of one's childhood self and taking on of a new identity among the Clan.

After death, a person's final mask is kept for their family's area down in the Clan's ancestor shrine halls. Masks are cared for by family members as part of specific festivals and are brought out for various events like weddings and funerary rites within the family. Since so much of a person's energy flows through their mask over the time they wear it, it's believed to still carry a part of their essence. So it's felt that ancestors are especially "present" and watching over you, when you visit your family shrine, or when their masks are made a part of your special days.

Yiga masks are quite tough, and broken and outgrown ones are burned at home. Those who are assigned to jobs and missions outside the Valley must be adept at the disguise technique, but if one's mask is broken to the point it can no longer be worn and it is at all possible to break away from one's task, one is supposed to return home to retrieve a new one right away.

((Sooga's insistence on wearing his cracked mask is considered quite unusual and odd. It's honestly only permitted because he is the Right Hand and thus his horns and uniforms already make him stand out. He did have it reinforced and repainted after the incident. I gave his stated reasoning for keeping it in a prior post, but...it's also because he was initially ashamed at having broken the work of a master craftsman so shortly after he received it. To this day, years later, if pressed he will say that his mask is serviceable so there is no need to trouble anyone. Of course, now more than ever anyone would love to make him a new one, but...that's Sooga for you. T-T))

Married couples traditionally remove each other's masks on their wedding night, before shedding any remaining disguise. This is a profoundly intimate show of love and trust. Even within a marriage, consent must be given before taking off one's spouse's mask.

Once you turn sixteen, in fact, no one is allowed to remove your mask without your express permission. Even when you're disguised under there. That includes parents and romantic partners. It's considered incredibly rude and childish especially after that age, to grab at someone else's mask to try to remove it.

That said, poking at or rapping on someone's mask is just silly behavior between friends, and caressing a masked cheek is loving. Also, touching masked foreheads together is a gesture of closeness between family, friends, and partners. Especially with a romantic partner, it's like a masked kiss. Yes. It's true. Yiga bonk foreheads like kittycats. (/silly, not really)

Because Yiga tend to spend a lot of time with their faces--even their fake faces--covered up, as a culture they tend to be quite expressive with their bodies and vocal inflections. They don't have facial expressions to rely on for communication purposes all the time, so head-tilts and hand gestures and other body language are adopted from an early age to get one's point across. Of course this doesn't mean they don't know what facial expressions are and mean (don't be ridiculous)--they know those things too, for when they're using an unmasked disguise and for dealing with other races. Just...they tend to talk with their hands a lot and can tell another Yiga's intent or emotion by how far they're tilting their head or how they're leaning their body. In fact, not gesturing as much or using subtler postures is just as much considered "reserved" or "quiet" among the Yiga as simply keeping one's volume down. There's nuance in these things, that outsiders might not realize.

Yiga doing espionage have to sort of mitigate these instincts/learned behaviors; they can sometimes come off weird or unsettling, otherwise! Think of those travelers you may have seen on the roads...how they wave and call to you a little too enthusiastically, and smile just a bit too wide... But surely they're just friendly! You should go over to them and talk. If you're lucky, they might even sell you some bananas, at very fair prices!

And the last thing you see, will be the blood red of the Inverted Eye.

And there you have it! A whole bunch of headcanons about Masks! Hope you had a good time reading!

[randomfandommaddness]

...And here is the winning design and its sample designs for the Mask Poll!

I thought it would be neat to have all masks have an additional position on the site of the head. I know the idea is probably not viable in game, but for this concept I thought it would be fun!

The original plan was to limit my secondary colors to red, blue, green, and yellow. But then there was a specific spirit that looked good in black and white, so I decided that each one would wear a different color.

The only thing I kinda regret is the fact that the new hairstyles kinda block the colors...

Here is the Cast. Say hello! :3

(Zoom in for a better look!)

For some of the spirits, I was having trouble figuring out what emotes they should have. More specifically, the spirits that don't have confirmed emotes are the Kite-Flyer, the Shadow Puppeteer, and the Game Master. I have considered a rock-paper- scissors emote for the Gamemaster, but I'm still not sure.

If anyone has any ideas for emotes for these spirits, them please put them in the reblogs or comments. I would love to see your ideas.

As you can probably tell, no one is wearing any capes. This is because the original plan was to have the capes be separate from most of the cast. However this plan has changed, and I will be giving capes to the Guide, the Glassblower, the Gamemaster, and potentially the Toymaker. I'm having trouble picking designs for the capes as I have a lot of ideas that I think would look cool for this cast.

I may do one last poll for the cape designs of the chosen spirits.

Location wise... This event would take place on an island. As for which realm, I don't know. I'm torn between the Isle of Dawn, the Daylight Prairie, and Valley of Triumph. The exact area name is simply called the Fair for now, and the center location in the Fair is called the Plaza. I want the location to be loosely based off of Venice, Italy, the place of inspiration for this collection of spirits and cosmetics.

If anyone has any suggestions, please reblog and comment!

More information about the cast is under the cut!

Here are four facts about each spirit.

Going in order from left to right-

- The Glassblower -

Others compare her personality to her craft: beautiful, yet delicate.

It takes her over an hour to do her hair done in the morning.

Her favorite prank to pull is putting little glass manatee figurines all over her friends' houses.

She is very protective of her work and will go to great lengths to protect her creations.

- The Sugar Spinner -

Her work station is more like a lab, she experiments a lot.

Absolutely loves it when customers try her new creations!

Her favorite prank to pull is recreating her friends' items entirely out of candy and then replacing them.

No one knows the relationship dynamic between the Glassblower and the Sugar spinner. They are able to work together, but they seem to bicker all the time....

- The Kite-Flyer -

She is the most artistically gifted of the group, specializing in crafting and painting.

Ever since she was little, she has always dreamed of flying over the clouds.

Her favorite pranks include drawing on her friends' masks with washable paint, and taping silly pictures over photographs.

Her favorite light creature is the Atlas Manta.

- The Toymaker -

Makes some toys to donate to charity for the poor children.

He always has a solution to fix any problem, and his advice is usually never wrong.

Has made replicas of all of his friends' shoes that squeak when they walk in them as a joke. Sometimes he'll replace the real shoes with the squeaky replicas.

Loves astronomy as a personal hobby and will spend hours after dark looking at the stars.

- The Shadow Puppeteer -

Is rarely seen around the Plaza, but is known to help behind the scenes.

If you find him, he may give you a secret gift to help you redeem some prizes.

His favorite prank to pull is taping signs onto peoples' backs. No one has ever caught him in the act.

Runs a shadow puppet theater at the edge of the Fair. However, his favorite type of puppets are sock puppets.

- The Gamemaster -

Considers himself a mastermind and will turn anything into a game.

Likes to set up games and puzzles for others to solve, but won't tolerate cheaters.

Is the number one prankster among the cast. His favorite prank? No one knows what it is. There's currently a bet on it to see who will guess it correctly.

His biggest secret is that he loves ducks. Don't tell anybody. :3

- The Guide -

Strongly believes that presentation is the most important aspect of a show.

Knows a mix of real magic and optical illusions. She'll often mix them to add some flare to her shows

Her favorite prank is that she will randomly change someone's entire outfit to a random assortment of clothes from their closet. She doesn't pull this often though.

Is actually really organized and a bit of a perfectionist. She stresses over the small details a lot.

The event back story and quests will be added at a later date.

[mimikoolover]

i’m a kookmin truther but how is the heart km photo more sus than possibly jk back hugging a woman? appearing to be teasing her where it doesn’t look totally platonic at all?

my belief is whether kookmin is STILL dating right now, at the very least kookmin fooled around more than once and their dynamic and relationship deserve some eyebrow raising if they’re seeing other people while doing the things they are doing.

however, it really boggles my mind when kookminers totally act like there’s nothing sus about those videos. it’s one thing to think that man wasn’t jk but to acknowledge it MIGHT be him, then you should also be more honest.

I genuinely think it was him. I cope by thinking that we had a vague timeline, although we have an idea given the hairstyle that man had. I cope by believing JK and Jimin tried to date, broke up, see other people and whatever they are doing months before enlisting.

I always held onto the belief that they have such a peculiar relationship. That if something is truly going on, good for them and for me, as i can say I’m not surprised. However, if in this universe they never truly “officially” dated, i would have so many questions and i definitely feel bad about their significant others.

i think in your mind him being in a straight relationship is automatically more realistic. imo you can't infer anything sus from the video because they're not kissing or even sitting on the couch cuddling. jungkook is quite a playful person i assume with everyone so back hugging isn't that sus. if you remember (you may not) the picture of him with the tattoo artist, he was back hugging her too so...you could argue that was sus? if he took a pic like the heart arch pic with a woman, would you think that was more sus than the video or not? i think for all of us thinking objectively is hard because what we feel will be influenced by our internal biases and how we think about jikook too. but it's not like i /want/ jikook to date each other. i'm fine with whatever they are. i'm not fighting you on your opinion for that reason. if i'm honest one of the reasons why i think the video wasn't sus is because he went on to deny having a gf right after the leak which i'm pretty sure was the truth, given his don't give a fuck attitude in 2023, i doubt he would have denied it if it were true, especially as that has not happened before (with the tattoo artist). so maybe he dated her earlier and not by the time he denied it but idk.

peculiar is the right word but tbh i don't think either of them had a significant other you'd have to feel sorry for, as in even if they were casually seeing other ppl i don't think it ever got very far (so far). if it did i think jikook may have 'cooled off' from each other especially jungkook cause he seems (again just my perception of him) very dedicated to the person he loves given how he's followed jimin around like a puppy, complained about not spending time with him etc. he would quite happily be with jimin 24/7 so if that were his S/O i bet they'd get at least this level of sole dedication.

funnily i think about the content of your ask quite a lot...i also think it's interesting that this topic only comes up concerning jungkook and not 'sus' things about jimin that tbh i don't even bother looking into but saw a bit about back in the day (that actress posting from his place or whatever?).

there are a lot of things (gossip) about jikook and all members of bts, like any other celebs but tbh i made peace with not ever really knowing for sure. when liam payne died and it came out he lied about having kidney issues to cover up going to rehab, for some reason that really stuck with me (in addition to him hiring 2 sex workers before he died...) like we don't know celebs lol i will say with bts, i don't think they do stuff in secret that will disappoint us or be scandalous. but i can see jikook dating each other and them also not dating each other, i guess when we get confirmation of either we still won't know any details. so to me it doesn't make that much of a difference what i think about this all lol.

[hiorintruther]

Dragging myself out of inactivity to grossly overanalyse/scream about the chapter 213 Kunigiri stuff coz I’m so mentally unwell and it’s their fault.

First of all, I love how in order to get into the other stratums, players first have to submit a request form. Presumably they’d have to state a reason for going and I doubt “I want to see my friends” would be allowed because some people would end up using it as an excuse to slack off, so I wonder what Chigiri said to get his request accepted? Obviously he was actually coming just to see Kunigami but he probably needed to make up an excuse (either that or Ego/Anri let him through because BLTV really is just football Love Island atp).

Anyway, I love the intro panel for Chigiri in this chapter coz it says SO MUCH about him.

It’s the hair.

Chigiri barely ever wears his hair up, not even while playing football (and I’ve made my thoughts on that clear in the past so I’ll refrain from any ranting). On the field he’ll have that weird half-braid thing going on, and off the field he usually just wears it loose. One of the only other times we see him with a ponytail is in chapters 150-151, during the 2-week break post U-20 match. I think this shows that Chigiri is putting active effort into his appearance for his visit with Kunigami. He puts his hair up when he wants to make a good impression — in the Shibuya chapters he’s also wearing a rather nice outfit, so he was focussing on his appearance then too. This time around, he’s specifically doing it for Kunigami because he’s unsure about what Kunigami thinks of him after “ghosting” him during the MC match. This is Chigiri going all-out to impress through subtle gestures and small changes that are consciously made and will subconsciously be picked up on.

(There’s also Kunigami’s canonical thing for the napes of necks (egoist Bible) to take into account which… listen we have no proof that Chigiri is aware of it but we also don’t have any proof that he’s not. Who’s to say he didn’t choose this hairstyle specifically because he knows it shows off his nape, which is usually kept hidden under his hair? He’s already a bit of a flirt after that “such an insensitive hero” comment back during the Second Selection. It isn’t impossible.)

Next, the iconic “keep an eye on me” line.

First off, Nomura really decided to make Chigiri look that pretty when he said this. Boy looks absolutely gorgeous. I’m aroace but I would’ve folded. Kunigami is stronger than me.

Second off, I like how this shows Chigiri being attentive towards Kunigami. When they first reunited, it did come across a bit like Chigiri was being dismissive of what Kunigami went through in the Wildcard, saying that he’d treat Kunigami as exactly the same person he was before (although it’s arguably understandable since they’d only just met again and Chigiri has no idea what happened in the Wildcard). Now though, it’s clear he’s observed the change Kunigami went through and a) wants to make amends for his previous comments, and b) still wants to be with Kunigami. While there’s never a direct apology given, it’s clear he doesn’t think of Kunigami the same way he did before the Mc match and wants to make amends. Honestly, idk if a direct apology would’ve been a nice addition or would’ve just made Kunigami feel worse — Chigiri is a proud person and Kunigami doesn’t want pity, so this less direct approach was probably the best way to go about things.

Thirdly, when Chigiri says “from now on, I’m gonna be keeping an eye on you”, it’s not just a promise to acknowledge Kunigami’s skills as a footballer. It’s also a subtle way of saying “you’re not getting rid of me. I’m staying right here”. Adding to that the “so, you better keep an eye on me too, got it?”, it’s both a declaration that Kunigami shouldn’t underestimate Chigiri and a “you’re gonna be seeing a lot of me so get used to it”. (Side note: Isagi’s face on this page is so fucking funny to me he’s just like “yeaaaaaah, these bitches gay. Good for them” lmao.)

Last thing I’ll scream about is this:

FIRST NAME BASIS!!!

Obviously Chigiri is specifically using “Rensuke” as a little jab at Kunigami to get him riled up. Chigiri is just like that when it comes to teasing. Still, it’s nice to know that he feels comfortable enough around Kunigami to say something like this without Kunigami getting angry or making things awkward between them. We’ve seen Bachira do this with Isagi too during the Barcha match, so that’s nice little bachisagi parallel. At the very least, Chigiri is showing that he wants their friendship to continue and is going to continue to treat Kunigami as a close friend, no matter how much Kunigami might try to push him away.

Conclusion to my ramblings: Chigiri is putting in the work and I respect him for it. Kunigami is in a bad place rn and what he needs is someone as stubborn as Chigiri to see him through. Chigiri knows what it feels like to feel depressed and push everyone else away because it happened to him too. He thought for a time that everything was over for him. No doubt he’s recognising those things in Kunigami and wants to help him out, especially since the two of them had grown pretty close before being separated.

Kunigiri has my whole heart!!!

[pillow-anime-talk]

his hot girl.

request: the captains, specifically imayoshi, hyuga and kasamatsu with an s/o who is very confident in her body and wears very hot girl clothes, but doesnt let other people judge her just from her outward appearance alone

# tags: headcanon; current relationships; light romance; mostly fluff; but also drama; school!au or work!au; confident!reader; protective!boys; mention of vomit in shuuzou’s part; rather sfw

includes: female reader ft. junpei hyuuga, yukio kasamatsu, shoichi imayoshi, shuuzou nijimura & taisuke otsubo {knb}

— JUNPEI

↘ That day you and Junpei went on a date to your favorite restaurant. After ordering food, you sat down at one of the tables, immediately starting a conversation about plans for the next few days; your boyfriend had a match next friday and you had two projects to do.

↘ The day promised to be calm and the weather was so warm, so pretty.

↘ While having a nice chat with a tall basketball player, you heard whispers on your right. The two women sitting next to you nervously looked at your person and talked about your outfit – tight pants with flared legs that perfectly emphasized your bottom and a blouse with a visible neckline. You loved classic combinations with a hint of extravagance and you always felt great in your body. Plus, it was a date with Junpei – of course you wanted to look sexy and feminine.

↘ You were about to say something as your back straightened and the chest was pushed forward, but your boyfriend was much faster.

↘ “It’s rude to talk about other people, especially in a restaurant. Why don’t you take care of your clothes instead of my girlfriend?” He asked with a disgusted smile, and the two women quickly hid behind the menu card. You giggled, taking your boyfriend’s hand and thanking him.

— YUKIO

↘ It was a summer time, so you had to go to the beach in the company of your closest friends and their significant other. You spent most of your time on the blanket and sunbathing your body, occasionally chatting with the girlfriends of the rest of your boyfriend’s teammates... but still mostly focused on the sun, drinking water, and your boy who having a great time in the sea.

↘ “Y/N, let’s go to the water for a while.” Nakamura’s partner proposed with a big smile, and you just nodded slightly, adjusting the straw hat on your head and also the strings of your red swimsuit. In the meantime, you heard the screams of a woman who telling someone to not look at you.

↘ You looked towards the young woman and the man (probably her boyfriend or husband), then raised an eyebrow. The blonde stranger started telling him to stop staring and you’re not that pretty at all. You... just giggled.

↘ “... Why don’t you start working on your confidence instead of insulting me?” You just said, putting your hand on your hip, and the young woman’s cheeks took on the color of a ripe tomato. “With this attitude, I do not wish you a long relationship. I’m so sorry for you, man.” You said and then you and your friend walked towards the pleasant, warm water.

— SHOICHI

↘ You and Shoichi were invited to his childhood friend’s wedding. You liked the groom and the bride very much, but you felt the eyes of the maid of honour on you, who was looking enviously at your beautiful mid-thigh dress. The bottle green perfectly matched the colors of the room, your hairstyle and make-up, which is why you certainly caught the eyes of many people. In addition, the dress had an exposed back, slight creases on the thighs and silver elements that harmonized with the jewelry you had on your ears, neck and hands that evening. You looked divine.

↘ The bride’s witness, however, had a different opinion on this. From a distance, you could hear her gruff comments about you wanting to take your eyes off Yuri and her white, beautiful dress. Somewhere between the first and second toast, you also managed to hear that you look fat in your outfit and your shoes don’t match to the rest of your accessories. You just smiled at those words.

↘ “... Should I talk to her?” Your boyfriend asked calmly and you just shook your head.

↘ “Don’t worry, honey. I will do it.”

— SHUUZOU

↘ He loves your style very very much and really doesn’t understand how another person (usually a woman) can talk to a strange girl like that.

↘ On that day you were on a trip to the mountains to celebrate your fourth anniversary of your relationship and your first anniversary as a engaged couple. The weather was beautiful and the views was so amazing. You still had less than an hour to drive to your accommodation, but you had to pee and Shuuzou decided to refuel his car. After using the toilet at the gas station, you decided to buy yourself and your boyfriend a small, warm snack. You ordered one hot dog with ketchup and mayo for your partner and a small grilled sandwich with your favorite toppings.

↘ It was hot that day, so shorts and a tank top were the perfect choice. And you could start to tan a little. Unfortunately, after paying for the meal and fuel, and after receiving the food, you heard a very unpleasant comment from one of the gas station customers; his disgusting comment about you looking like a pornstar with a dick in your hand made you immediately wanted to vomit. But your face showed anger and disappointment.

↘ “It’s sad that you have so little self-confidence and manhood that you have to insult others for their appearance. But go on. Maybe someday it will make you feel better.” You replied casually as you left the small building. Luckily, your boyfriend quickly cheered you up with a quick but tender kiss.

— TAISUKE

↘ Summer and warm evenings were the perfect time to go out to the club and party with trusted people. Together with Taisuke, his friends, as well as Takao and Miyaji partners, you chose a club where you could dance, use karaoke equipment, drink something and play bowling. You were in the middle of a little fight between you with your boyfriend and a blonde basketball player with his girlfriend (your bestie).

↘ For today’s outing, you decided to wear leather pants that perfectly emphasized your legs and butt, as well as a white, lace top with gold elements. On your feet you had the most ordinary sneakers and a black bandana on your head. Your outfit was described by Taisuke as ‘very sexy and I want to kiss you now’.

↘ You had a great time while playing and drinking drinks (alcohol or not). Halfway through your game, all the boys went to get more snacks and use the restroom. So you stayed with Junko and Sachiko and engaged in a pleasant conversation about plans for the next weeks of holidays. About the time your boyfriend and his friends left three of you, a group of four men entered the bowling alley. Seeing you and your friends, they immediately started throwing obscene comments at you all.

↘ “... Leather turn me on a lot. You must have worn that outfit to the club on purpose, huh?” The tall, black-haired teenager laughed out loud, and you frowned. You hated pushy men... or rather pushy and stupid boys. However, before you responded to the idiotic comment, your boyfriend and the other four returned to their place, immediately showing their dominance and superiority. The Shuutoku team was definitely more massive and taller than the four strangers, so they instantly fell silent.

↘ You were glad that you could count on the support of your boyfriend and friends.

[inflamedrosenkranz]

The Council Archives, an additional interactive content accessible via the LoL client, was released to accompany the airing of the first season of Arcane in 2021. Interestingly, it gives us access to Jayce's journal.

A few fruity juicy tidbits stand out:

1) he scribbled down Viktor's face, right in the middle of his scientific notes, even though they've only known each other for a short time; 2) he was so inspired by his words, that he quoted them: "When you're going to change the world, don't ask for permission"; 3) he even wonders what Viktor's surname is. Viktor, the Dean's assistant, is therefore known in the Academy only by his first name… And this mystery tickles Jayce's fancy, it seems. Not to mention that, if they're going to be working closely together from now on, it's only natural that he should ask him about his surname (1).

Honestly, points 2) and 3) can be just the sign of a person who looks up to another (and in episode 9, Jayce confirms to Viktor that he indeed admired him), or who wonders about personal elements of a coworker. But the first point? They barely know each other, and already Jayce is drawing Viktor on a small piece of paper and sticking it in his diary? Can you imagine drawing your (new) coworkers' mugs when you're journaling in your spare time or on your draft reports for work? Because, well, I don't. Knowing that you're going to put up with them the next day and for the rest of the week for 40 hours is enough, thank you. I wouldn't even want a picture of them on my phone. No but seriously, our lad even went so far as to write something inside his sketch (his signature? Something about Viktor?) and add an arrow annotation on the outside! Is this the reminder about Viktor's last name, or something else? In any case, such a level of dedication begs the question…

But that's not all… In E1/S2, when Mel visits Jayce in the lab to check on Viktor, who's in some kind of coma in the Hexgoo, we see that Jayce has drawn his partner again, this time on the board:

He could have just drawn an ordinary anatomical silhouette to record his observations, but no, he felt obliged to add Viktor's hairdo and sunken cheeks! How much does he like his friend's face?

Viktor accused him of being egotistical for signing every page of his research notes, but what would he think if he discovered there was a mini portrait of himself in the middle of said notes?

What's more, it looks like Jayce has drawn a smiling Viktor. And, in E9/S2, Jayce remembers him smiling at him (albeit sadly), even though in the actual scene (E6/S2), Viktor doesn't smile but instead looks terrified. He's too stunned to even move, because he can't imagine that his friend has come to kill him:

Admittedly, Jayce could have distorted his memory to ward off the guilt of having had to execute his partner (even though he only destroyed his body), but the fact remains that he prefers to remember him in a way that pleases and flatters him (i.e. a handsome, melancholy Viktor looking at him in a beautiful way).

And last but not least, again in episode 9, this is how Jayce remembers Viktor when he tells him his name in episode 1—echoing, incidentally, his sketch of him in his diary, and the mention that he should ask for his surname:

And yet here's how he actually saw him back then:

(I, for one, have a different interpretation of this memory, which I attribute more to Viktor and the way he perceived himself at the time in front of Jayce, but the way this reminiscence is presented in E9 makes it ambiguous and anyway that's not the point...)

In Jayce's memory, there's more luminosity, and Viktor's golden eyes are brighter, which is what stands out most in the overall image.

To conclude, he draws a newly met Viktor in his work diary, smiling; he embellishes the memories he has of him (smile, again; eyes), even draws his hairstyle and his face shape on a silhouette that by scientific standards should remain neutral; he quotes him, wants to know more about him on a personal level…

Given the relevance of all these clinical elements, the diagnosis is clear: Jayce is completely obsessed with Viktor. From the moment they met, he was infatuated with him. Piltover's Golden Boy is down bad for his Zaunite golden-eyed boy, and honestly, can you blame him? Who wouldn't have the hots for a handsome scientific assistant who has Runeterra's finest locks and accent and right off the bat tells you he believes in you even though you don't know each other yet and gives you his name while looking at you with such fuck-me eyes? Hmm, one wonders...

(1) On the subject of Viktor's surname, some Redditors on this topic have speculated that it might start with an E, judging by some implicit elements scattered throughout Arcane and some other franchise materials.