#just to be clear the previous ask game is still ongoing too if you still want to send asks!

[morverenmaybewrites]

WIP Title Game

Rules: 

Make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. 

Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and tag as many people as you have wips.

Thank you for the tag @jaybirdh!

My Google Docs is honestly a graveyard of WIPS that I start and stop, so here’s a list of them, fandoms in the parenthesis!  

1. Genshin Men In A Royal Fantasy! AU (Genshin Impact)

2. Kaeya (Genshin Impact)

3. Rewrite Rengoku AU (Demon Slayer) 

4. Q-Son III (Honkai Star Rail Cyberpunk/Soulmate! AU)

5. TOTK Shrine Checklist That I Somehow Misplaced

6. Godkillers Masterpost (BNHA Steelheart AU)

I guess, I tag anyone who wants to do this?

[lady-fey]

Don’t Mix Thoughts and Dialogue

During a bit of dialogue, it can be incredibly tempting to give your reader a glimpse of what the characters are thinking. This is a trap. Don’t do it.

Why?

Well, the best way to explain this is to just give you a quick example.

Mary laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Hey, do you remember that night with Jimmy and the cat?” Ryan smiled, his mind drifting back over the long years of their friendship. That they would still be so close after all this time was truly a gift. Yet a part of him still asked ‘what if?’ What if they were meant to be something other than friends? Could that every happen or was he being greedy? Risking something beautiful for so little gain. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Then he smiled and said, “Yeah, I still don’t know where he got it!”

Question: when you got to Ryan’s response, did you remember what Mary said or did you have to glance back up to jog your memory? If you glanced back up, then don’t feel bad! You are completely normal and that’s why this is a technique that you should use sparingly.

When we’re reading, our brains are constantly processing new information. It’s basically an ongoing memory game! If you’ve ever played one of those, then you know that it can be quite tricky to recall which picture is hiding under which card or what objects were on the now-hidden tray. However, we can always pick up the card or reveal the tray to remind ourselves of the answer. Similarly, we can always glanced back up the page and reread the previous line, but a story isn’t a game. Most writers want their audience to be fully immersed in the scene. Their eyes should travel down the page, following the flow of the words, never needing to look back at what was said three paragraphs ago.

You’re never going to be able to make your audience remember everything that you wrote. There are just too many words in the story. That’s why, when you’re writing dialogue, you want to keep all of the surrounding text related to the dialogue. Don’t let your characters go off on tangents like Ryan did because then your audience’s brain will switch to this new topic and forget the old one the same way that a verbal tangent will lead to someone asking, “Hey, wait, what were we talking about?”

I get the temptation to do the thought thing. It can give some really fun insight into a character. I will do it myself in early drafts. Then, upon rereading, I’ll realize that I switched focus from the dialogue and, as much as I like sharing my character’s thoughts, dialogue just isn’t the place to do it. If you’re including dialogue, the point is usually the interactions between the characters, not their deep, individual thoughts.

In this case of the above, Ryan’s thoughts needed to wait until after the conversation was over OR I should have introduced this topic earlier so that I could briefly hint at Ryan’s feelings with something like:

Mary laughed, the sound making Ryan's traitorous heart skip a beat. Then she asked, “Hey, do you remember that night with Jimmy and the cat?” “Yeah, I still don’t know where he got it!” Ryan said, gazing at her with melancholy fondness. “Did he ever tell you?”

This is not to say that you can never do the thought thing. You can. Just be aware that it's dragging your audience away from the dialogue and they will likely forget the details of what was being discussed, making it a not-so-great techniquie.

The only time when I’d do that is when I want the character to forget the conversation, too. Then I can bring the character and the audience back to the discussion in a natural way.

I’ll also note that readers do remember things long after they happen. It’s just that what tends to stick are the big, important details (ex: Alim was murdered) or the things that get repeated constantly (ex: the suspect list that the detectives go over after every new clue). Dialogue tends to be largely forgettable as the point is rarely the specific words, which is why breaking a conversation is so jarring.

[seventeenlovesthree]

Digi Dynamic Shipping Game

Send me two names among the following 12 and I’ll write a short analysis post about them:

Taichi Yagami | Yamato Ishida | Sora Takenouchi | Koushirou Izumi | Mimi Tachikawa | Jyou Kidou | Takeru Takaishi | Hikari Yagami | Daisuke Motomiya | Miyako Inoue | Iori Hida | Ken Ichijouji

Whether canon provides input on them or not.

The first Adventure season is very adamant about making sure that the viewer identifies Sora as the "mom/big sister" friend of the group. This becomes mostly apparent when she is consistently protecting and/or taking care of Mimi and Hikari - but also Takeru. As I had pointed out in the post about the family angle between Sora, Yamato and Takeru, the latter functions as a bridge between the broken family dynamics they all appear to have at this point. Since Takeru is the youngest member of the group for the majority of the season, he is the most vocal about Sora basically being a motherly figure - which is even more blatantly stated in the English dub version where he straight up tells her that he doesn't "miss his mom so much" when she is around. And it makes sense that he perceives her that way, considering how she took everyone under their wing, including him, functioning as the voice of reason to prevent the others from fighting - especially when his brother is involved -, supporting them in the back however she could. And since Sora herself is struggling with her own sense of obligation, questioning her intentions and ability to love - is it really surprising that, the moment someone like Takeru finally reassures her, tells her that he likes her and doesn't want her to disappear, she immediately stops crying? Finding her composure again, regaining her positive outlook?

Both Sora and Takeru need validation, this becomes quite clear and is an ongoing theme between them through the course of Adventure - there is a reason why Takeru immediately becomes more serious and determined once Sora (and Taichi too) tells him to take care of and protect Hikari. He craves to be needed, he doesn't want to be a burden and actually being trusted by someone like Sora (and Taichi, again!), someone he greatly admires, is a huge boost for him. Maybe even the central motivation he needed (aside from Yamato's reassurance) to not give up, to "fulfill his responsibility", on his way to let Angemon evolve to HolyAngemon. Just like Takeru's words may have been a little stepping stone for Sora to activate her own Crest as well...

After Adventure, there aren't a lot of visible cues that indicate the same/a bigger level of closeness between these two (even taking into account that Sora and Yamato had been dating through the course of 02), but there are little tidbits here and there that do indicate care between them. It's when Takeru protects her from a Snimon attack in 02 (once again showing that he is responsible and protective!), it's when Sora calls him to ask whether he is okay in Tri (still showing off her caring attitude towards him!)...

One might argue that all of these framings are entirely familial, since there is so much focus on the family angle, especially when you keep the age gap of three years between them in mind. However, the reason why I chose the screenshot(s) above may indicate another meaning after all... Because similarly to my previous Daiora analysis, people tend to mainly focus on Sora's romantic potential with Taichi and Yamato - even though there may be other candidates who are potentially just as - if not more - emotionally compatible with her...

Whether I think why and how they’d work.

A famous callback Tri pulled on Adventure is the awkward silence between Sora, Taichi and Yamato in the fourth movie - mirroring the scene in which Sora runs away from the group, unable to tell them why she wanted to be by herself and why she considers herself "unable to love". In Tri, both Taichi and Yamato are at a loss, they have no idea how to deal with her. When they were still kids, all it took was for Takeru to approach her, thank, reassure and tell her that he "likes" her - which is probably why Yamato's instinct as a teenager at this point seems to be the following: "Shall we ask Takeru?"

Takeru, as opposed to his big band leader brother, has a so called "ladies-man-persona" in Tri, he's got a reputation of having dated several girls and appears to be very friendly with Meiko, much to Hikari's jealousy amusement. However, romance is not Tri's strongest feat - and just like we never learn whether or not Jyou's girlfriend is real, we also don't know what exactly Takeru has been doing all this time. He's famous for wearing a mask consisting of smiles and one may or may not be worried about him developing unhealthy dating habits that never result in long-lasting relationships....... OR we stop assuming the worst and take things at face value for once: Takeru Takaishi is a very kind person at heart, and even if he hides behind a mask, has a very big soft spot for reassuring girls around him.

Do you know who also has a soft spot for reassuring others while hiding their feelings behind a mask at times? Sora Takenouchi. They are both incredibly observant of the people around them and very keen to put them at ease, mostly through words - and just like we have seen above, they NEED that kind of validation. It's why Takeru notices that Sora got a new haircut and points it out to her, whereas his brother hadn't seen it at all. It's why Takeru tries to keep track on everything that is happening, not only because he's on his way to become a novelist, but because he cares and even if he probably still can't be honest about his own feelings - he knows that it doesn't hurt to notice and compliment others, he knows that he can make others feel good by being kind like that. Just like Sora is proooobably aware that her caring nature may not be the healthiest self-care approach, but at least puts smiles on everybody else's faces.

Again, this may not sound like the most stable foundation for a relationship, but I could actually see it working out for them. I'm not saying that I want them to "parent each other", but maybe together, they could reach a state where everything gets a little bit easier. Crying together, opening up to each other about how difficult it had been to always uphold that friendliness because they may have felt responsible, even if there were moments when they both would just have wanted to curse and scream... They both love their friends dearly, but may crave to allow themselves a shoulder to lean on. From someone who understands the struggles. I think it could be a great lesson for both of them as consenting adults, trying to live their own lives - having Sora tell Takeru that he doesn't always have to be the strong one to keep everyone together, that he is loved for who he is and that he won't be left again (because his abandonment issues may still be pretty strong). And simultaneously having Takeru tell Sora that she needs to look in the mirror to realize that she deserves to be loved for who she is as well (especially because her flight instinct might still be pretty strong). And that she deserves someone who actually TELLS her that...

Whether I’d prefer them as platonic or romantic ship.

I had thought about Takeru as analogy to Yamato before, simply because he is so much more vocal towards Sora. And while the age gap and mother angle may make things a little bit difficult and even though I had never thought too deeply about the romantic side of Sokeru... I can understand why they used to have their niche here on tumblr. Art of Takeru protecting Sora for once ("I am not a kid anymore!"), art of him letting loose in front of her... The appeal is definitely there and I am a big fan of mutually reassuring ships, so while I usually go for them platonically, I do have a bit of a fondness for their romantic potential now! So it would be nice to see how their relationship may pan out in canon in "the future".

[officialclangen]

Hi!! I just wanted to ask for some clarification on some things you mentioned about your coding- Im learning python (sorta) and id like to know the reasonings?

For history, cant you just make a text file while working on the main history feature? After some fiddling around i got the game to create a text file and put event text that wasn't interactions in said file. I think it'd help since if things get bloated the player can just copy the text to a google doc and delete all previous text- the code i whipped up works fine this way. Pasting it below, idk if tumblr will fuck it up tho.

def print_all_events_test(self, event_list):

with open("my_file.txt", "a") as f:

f.write("\nMoon "+ str(game.clan.age)+"\n\n")

for event in event_list:

if not "interaction" in event.types:

try:

f.write(event.text + "\n")

except:

print("Error, no Event Text found.\n")

Put the declaration on line 233 (before loaded events were cleared), with game.cur_events_list as the event_list. I know theres apparently security concerns with using files or calling them but I know WAY too little to know if a txt file will send my computer into chaos. "my_file" should also be named after the clan name, and in its own folder for neatness. Using this also means history (ingame) can be deleted after x moons to prevent bloating overall? If the player still wants the deleted history, they just need to go to the text file. Should help with people who want to copy text too, since no longer will screenshots be needed!

As for prophecies, cant you make a hidden illness for a prophecy that gets added to 1-3 cats, that gets cured after x days (aka when the prophecy is fulfilled, from what I've seen in the code illnesses get cured after x days so if multiple cats get the prophecy illness they should all be 'cured' on the same day)? It'll be work to add stuff like multiple cats in a single prophecy and adding personality into the mix but it shouldn't be outright impossible, right? Grieving seems to work similarly so the template seems to be there.

Me coming into ur asks (yes theres better places for this im just anxious @ the discord channels lmao) is 100% a sign of love for the game. I also would like to know if the ideas would work or not, i am genuinely curious about if they've been considered and (if so) the reasons why they weren't implemented! Love yall :)

Yes, we could implement a history txt file but it would become very large very quickly. And while we could try and count on the player to get rid of the file if it's causing lag, there would end up being a lot of players who don't understand how to navigate files and wouldn't know how to delete the txt file. Once the file gets big enough it'll make timeskips begin to lag out as the file is opened and changed by the game, and then held open until the game is saved once again (since the file can't be saved and closed before the player saves the game, in case the player closes without saving). It'll also take up memory during this process.

Basically, it would use resources that we feel would be better allocated to handling other areas of the game.

The problem with prophecies is that there's a million different things that a prophecy could be predicting. Is it predicting a new special cat (like firestar), is it predicting something far in that cat's future (bluestar), perhaps it's predicting an illness or a disaster, maybe it predicts a lost cat returning. There's so many options and the moment that the game starts dictating the meaning of the prophecy is the moment that those options become significantly fewer.

If we do decide to dictate the 'meaning' of a prophecy, then there's the added trouble of ensuring that any cats integral to the prophecy don't get killed or permanently changed in a way that makes the prophecy stop making sense. We have begun working on an "ongoing event" system that would control events spanning over multiple moons. This will eventually be used for things like natural disasters and wars, and if we wanted to we could potentially use it for prophecies. But, as said, that poses a lot of difficulties with having to "soft lock" any cats included in that prophecy so that they only change in specific ways that make sense. This would require a ton of work to code in.

It's never impossible but sometimes it can be unreasonable, and this is a case where we feel that "real" prophecies would be unreasonable.

I hope that reasoning makes sense! Thanks for asking <3

[bruhlsbees]

paradox burning ; 1/5 || ernst schmidt x fem!reader

summary: after the fight between volkov and schmidt, you comfort schmidt in his quarters

pairing: ernst schmidt x fem!reader

warnings: over the clothes touching

word count: 4,666

taglist: @itsametaphorbriansblog

a/n: if you haven't read the preview i would suggest reading that first to understand the vibe of their relationship better!! chapter two will be up tonight!! just wanted to get this out as i've been lacking content these past few days since i've been celebrating my birthday. hope you enjoy and as always if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

“TAD throttle control, 8636. Line secure.”

Mother Mary be with us...be with Mama and Papa and sissy and Joe.

“Accelerator system status?”

Father give us the strength today, for we have dove into the depths of space to restore humanity as we know it.

“It’s holding for pre-ignition.”

Look after everyone down below on Earth - for times are dark and the sun does not appear to be rising anymore.

“Shepard team, you are go for countdown.”

I pray that you forgive all of our sins, Father, as we have learned our lessons and strive to move forward in honoring thy.

“We’ve all got our fingers crossed here at Mission Control. Let’s make this first one count.”

And help guide us through these troubling times and help everyone remember why we are up here.

“Status boosters?”

Is this Hell, Father?

“Go.”

Have you damned us all to Hell?

“The GNC?”

To pay for our sins?

“Go.”

Tell me, Father...

“Power up.”

Are we damned?

“Commander, Shepard team standing by for your go.”

Perhaps we are and this is where are days will end.

“On my count…”

Among strangers and empty.

“Three…”

Away from family...

“Two…”

Away from friends…

“One…”

Alone in our own thoughts.

“Mark.”

God, help us all.

TWO YEARS LATER

You awoke with a start. Gasping for air as you tugged at your tank top, as if the thin material was suffocating you. Not giving yourself time to process what had happened, you threw your legs out from under the warm covers and let the cool air hit your bare legs, your elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands, catching your breath.

This was the second week in a row now that you’ve woken up from a nightmare. Drenched in sweat and tears spilling from your eyes. It was always a reimagine of the previous one. If you dreamt of your father dying one night, the next it would be your mother. This night, it was your own life that you dreamt slipping away. Your finger pads swiped away the tears that fell down your cheeks before sliding onto the cool flooring, clasping your hands together to begin and pray.

“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit…” You began, crossing yourself as you settled on your knees, eyes closed and hands squeezed together tight. “Heavenly Father I ask that you watch over Mama and Papa...sissy and Joesph, and all those back home,” You cleared your throat, choking down the tears as you continued on once more. “We have been onboard for over two years and I miss everyone dearly. I hope to speak with them soon as Joesph is teaching Mama and Papa how to use video call.”

Even with all the photos that you had around your room, all the videos that you had programmed in to watch whenever you pleased, you were beginning to forget simple things - like how they smelled, the warmth of their hugs, and how they always tried to pawn your younger siblings onto you. You were always so mad babysitting them, losing out on time with your friends, but now...now you wished that you had the chance to babysit them, to be with them once again.

“Father, I ask that you forgive me for my sins, guide us through this mission, and take us home. All of us. Let this mission go well, and we can save Earth. Amen.”

You crossed yourself a final time, bringing your cross necklace from your chest where it sat and to your lips, kissing the gold piece of jewelry before standing up from the floor.

This was an everyday routine for you. Waking up, saying your morning prayer, taking a shower, and being down for breakfast by 08:00. It was early, you knew that, but you enjoyed having the calmer moments before everyone else woke up.

When you entered the bathroom, you went straight to the shower, turning the handle to let the warm water spute out. You were tired, swaying gently in your stance as your eyes grew heavy. The sudden spitting of water struggling to get out woke up, making you jump as you watched the water pressure went from weak to strong.

You pushed down your shorts from that night, pulling your tank top above you, and stepped out of your shorts, dropping the tank top on the floor before stepping into the shower. You were pleasantly greeted by the hot water, sighing as it hit your back and began easing the tension in your muscles.

Morning showers for you were always dangerous - either it could go very well and you’d be out in minutes, or it could go bad and you’d end up falling asleep leaning against the wall. On this particular morning, after dreaming of your own death, you did not wish to fall asleep again, scared of what could come from your slumber. You quickly washed yourself off, massaging your scalp as you washed your hair before taking the toothbrush you kept in the shower, opening up the tube of toothpaste, and began brushing your teeth.

It was such a mundane routine - almost finding it boring the longer you were onboard. Perhaps it was your schedule that was down to the second of when you did things. You never were one to be so particular about your schedule, having one so precise, but after a year of pure chaos on board, a mundane routine is what kept your little sanity still hanging.

When you were finally ready for the day and changed into your suit, you slid on your shoes and pulled your hair back into a low bun, tucking some of the loose pieces of hair behind your ear before heading out of your room and down the hall, going towards the common room to join the others for breakfast.

By the time you made it down to the common room, you were only the third to arrive - Mundy and Acosta beating you to it.

“Well look who finally decided to wake up!”

From your spot at the bagel machine, you looked over into the game room where Mundy and Acosta stood playing foosball, Mundy looking all too proud - indicating that he perhaps was winning. On the other hand, Acosta looked tired, almost too tired to be playing a game of foosball so early with Mundy.

Letting out a laugh, you shook your head and turned your attention back to the bagel, sighing once it finished before pulling it out from the machine and placing it on your plate. You truly didn’t understand how half the stuff you consumed was edible, but you supposed it beat other things you’ve seen those in space eat.

Taking a seat in your spot at the table, your back facing Mundy and Acosta, you brought the bagel to your mouth and took a bite, maybe a little bigger than what was more polite, but you didn’t care, you were starving.

It was the Commander who came in next, greeting everyone with a morning as he got his own breakfast before sitting across from you at the other end of the table. When the two of you locked eyes, you nodded, continuing to chew your bagel before looking down, not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that you had a shit night.

You were pleased when Commander didn’t seem to notice, glancing occasionally into the lounge room where Mundy and Acosta continued to play foosball, Acosta finally gaining the upper hand on Mundy for once.

One by one the rest of the crew began to show: Volkov, Tam, Schmidt, before eventually Hamilton joined as well. When Schmidt came in, walking beside Tam speaking in Mandarian about what you assumed to be something related to the Shepard power accelerator. As the two sat down with their breakfast, Schmidt looked over your way, his mouth twitching into a smile before his attention fell back to the screen pad in front of him that Tam was holding.

You listened in on their conversation, picking out what you could understand through the technical language the two spoke on. As a medical crewman, you weren’t familiar with all of the technology onboard, only the ones related to the medbay that you primarily worked in. You went to school for medicine, exceeding expectations in your classes, and found yourself working for military hospitals since. It came as a surprise to you when they asked if you’d like to be a part of the Cloverfield station. What business did you have going up in space?

When you told your family about the news, they were proud, no doubt, that their eldest child would be going into space to directly help with the ongoing energy crisis. It was evident how proud they were of you, but also how worried with you going into space. You lived with your parents and younger siblings your entire life, leading up until your departure for the Cloverfield station. Separating from your family was hard, and having them not understand how to work even something as simple as a video call hurt more.

Your sister, Mila, would be sixteen now - learning how to drive and preparing for her final days in school before going into higher education, if that’s what she wanted. Your brother, Joseph, would be twenty-three now, doing who knows what with his young man mind. You hoped he wasn’t getting into trouble, or knocking some girl up...although the idea of having a little niece or nephew to come home to didn’t sound all that bad.

But your parents, how were they doing? They were older, growing slower as the days went on. Were they still making it through all of this? You assumed Papa was still running the family shop downstairs, selling candies to the little children of Lapovo - whatever children were left in Lapovo that is.

Mama though, how was she doing? You couldn’t imagine how worried she was, probably baking her troubles away in the kitchen. You missed waking up to her cooking, smelling the sweetness of baklava and sarma. She always wrote you letters while you were away either at school or on the military base that was outside of Lapovo where you worked. Now that you were in space though, sending letters just didn’t happen.

Perhaps tonight you’d try and see if Joseph was online and able to chat.

Everything had been going peaceful that morning, which you enjoyed after the sleep you poorly had. That is until Volkov finally spoke up.

“Six hundred and ninety-four.”

Looking up from your bagel and to your left where he was at, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as Volkov screwed the water bottle back closed, making his way over to the table to join the rest of you.

“Six hundred and ninety-four days I’ve kept our O2, CO2, N2, hydrogen, water vapor and methane at optimal levels.”

Congrats, what did he want, a fucking cookie?

You watched as Volkov stood on the other side of the table in front of Schmidt, almost directly talking to him. There was always something going on between the two of them, and quite frankly it annoyed the living shit out of you. You felt like a mother some days, scolding Schmidt for clearly egging Volkov on - him and his damn anger issues.

It was no different today, as Volkov began his tangent on whatever it was he was about to lay into you all, Schmidt was sitting across from him, a smirk on his face.

“You know how many pressure leaks we’ve had? Not one. No microbe overgrowth, nothing. You know why?”

“This is a long speech, Volkov.” Schmidt quipped, reacting in you rolling your eyes and pushing your plate forward, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest, wondering where this would be leading to next.

“Because I disinfect the decks every seventy-two hours.” It was Acosta to interrupt Volkov this time, stating that he was actually the ones to disinfect the decks. He was right, you couldn’t remember how many days you spent helping him, on your knees scrubbing at the decks.

It seemed finally everyone was growing annoyed with whatever Volkov was getting at, Commander Kiel finally stepping in and stating that if he had a point he wanted to make, he should make it now.

“There’s one part of this station. One part that is not working. This is interesting, do you know what part that is? The Sheppard Accelerator.” Volkov continued, not seeming to be in any rush to get out what he wanted to say.

In Mandarian, Tam finally intervened, claiming that eight billion were counting on us and asked what his point was. You could agree, what was this all about?

It was then that Volkov stated that he didn’t have a problem with Tam, but with Schmidt - ‘her German boyfriend’. You couldn’t help but snicker at the comment, clearing your throat just as quick, hoping nobody heard. But someone did, and it was Schmidt, giving you a look that screamed ‘you’re not gonna find that as funny later’.

Everything began to really go downhill from there, nobody seemed to be able to get to Volkov and stop him before he said even more that he would regret. Hamilton directed him to go back to his quarters only for him to snap back that she wasn’t his mother. Commander and Mundy even jumped in, trying to calm him down, but nothing worked.

“Two years on this ship, and this man has delivered nothing,” Volkov pushed on. You hadn’t noticed it until then, but Schmidt had moved from the table and was now standing only feet away from Volkov. You felt your heart begin to pound as you watched the two men. Two men with strong anger issues at only breakfast time, something more than just a disagreement on the way to erupt.

“Volkov, enough!” Schmidt snapped, glaring forward at him. “You need to think very carefully about what you’re saying.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and you thought maybe, just maybe Volkov actually shut up for once. But that brief moment of silence was just that, and he was back to speaking, this time more quiet than before.

“We’ve both heard the reports,” Making his way closer to Schmidt, “Germany is preparing for war, Serbia taking alliances with Germany, and everyday that goes by more and more Russians are starving.” The comment made your heart stop for a moment. That was just a rumor, in all of your messages with Joseph, not once had he mentioned going to war alongside Germany to be true.

You didn’t know why you felt the sudden urge to cry, but you did. Bringing your fingers to your mouth, you began to bite down at the skin around your nails, chewing away at the flesh until you tasted the iron of your blood. Nobody outwardly spoke badly to you, besides the occasional poorly landed joke from Volkov, but you couldn’t help but feel like an outcast, wondering if people really thought you were what Volkov said you to be.

By now Volkov was in Schmidt’s face, the two men radiating their own heated anger off one another, tension filling the room, making you feel like you did in your nightmare, suffocating. You pulled at the collar of your suit, taking the zipper and unzipping the front enough to get yourself feeling less trapped.

“Maybe you’re not in a hurry to get the Shepard working. Is that it? Are you stalling us to help Germany get the upper hand? What about you? What are you doing in the med bay alone, mixing something up for us to take? To slowly kill us?”

He laughed, he actually laughed when he looked at you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. When Volkov turned back towards Schmidt, it was only half a second before Schmidt’s hand wrapped around Volkov’s throat, pushing him back before sending a punch across his face. Volkov was quick to regain his posture, grabbing at Schmidt’s own throat and shoved him back towards the corner, both men trying to pin one another against the wall.

When the scene unfolded, you stood up in shock, mouth gaped and you took a step to the side to try and do whatever you could to help, but felt someone grab your wrist. Turning, you looked down to see Tam’s hand before looking up at her, watching her shake her head ‘no’ and to just wait. And you did, it took everything in you to stick by her side, but you did wait.

Commander was the one to grab Schmidt, pinning him onto the table with his face squished onto the glass. Mundy, on the other hand, held Volkov in a choke hold, keeping him restrained while the Commander lectured the two men - one of which was still trying to get the last word in.

“Keep your mouth shut, Volkov!” The Commander finally boomed, causing the room to come to a standstill. “We have a job to do.”

The room finally fell silent, both men seeming to be relaxed enough for the Commander to think they were free to be broken from their restraints.

“Now, can you two get along for just one day without us having to pull you off of one another?” Moving back, you watched as Schmidt laid on the table for a moment, almost debating on if he wanted to go at it with Volkov again. He decided against it and finally stood up, fixing his shirt before shooting a glare towards Volkov, knocking past him and out of the common room.

You gave it a moment, smiling over at Tam when you felt her squeeze your hand. You nodded her way, squeezing her hand back before you quietly slipped away, moving down the hall quick to go and find Schmidt.

It took a while for Schmidt to really calm down, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if the Commander didn’t rush the test that you were all supposed to conduct that day. It was bad enough everyone was stressed, but having someone be stressed and pissed off just wouldn’t work. You could almost bet that the reason the outburst that morning even happened in the first place was because of the high tensions on board, especially leading up to the next test.

If this test failed, they only would have enough for three more tests. After that... well, they could kiss humanity goodbye.

It didn’t take long for you to find Schmidt, in his quarters struggling to get his suit on as the zipper seemed to be stuck. He was mumbling something in German and you couldn’t piece together what he was saying other than the occasional ‘fuck him’.

When you stepped inside his quarters, the door shutting behind you, he paused his moments, his hands on his zipper, not wanting to look at you. You took a hesitant step forward, not wanting to be on the other hand of his outburst, before stopping once you were only a foot away from him.

“If you’re here to tell me that I was an idiot, don’t bo-”

“I’m not here to call you anything, Ernst,” His cheeks grew red at the sound of his first name, his gaze glancing up at you, watching as you stared back - only instead of something angry, like he expected, your gaze was more somber, worried even, “I just came to make sure you were okay. Here, let me.”

You gently moved his hands away from the zipper of his suit, taking another step forward to pinch at his suit, tugging the fabric down to help the zipper not get bunched in the fabric. You could feel his ragged breath hit your forehead, his chest heaving as the zipper moved higher until your hand stopped above his heart.

His mouth twitched into a smile, feeling your head fall forward to rest against his chest. You felt his arms wrap around you as he pulled you in tighter for a hug, as if you could get any closer to him. His lips sat on your hairline above your temple, kissing you sweetly.

“You trust me, right?” Schmidt suddenly asked. He could feel you tense up in his arms and he pulled back, his hands resting on your arms, squeezing them, “I just, don’t want you to be wrapped up in the middle of whatever feud Volkov has with me. Tam already gets it enough and I just don’t want you to have that on yo-”

You stopped him with a kiss, smiling into it before pulling away, seeing his own smile on his face.

“I can handle myself, Schmidt...I’m not worried with what Volkov has to say,” You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling him wrap his arms around your waist, “Volkov likes to get a rise out of anyone who gives him the time of day. It’s how he keeps himself busy on board.”

The joke seemed to land well with Schmidt, earning a laugh before you felt him begin to rock you both side to side. “But what’s this about Tam being your girlfriend?” You teased.

You grinned at the sight of him rolling his eyes at you, “You don’t have to be jealous about Tam, you know that she’s-”

“Who said I was jealous?” You asked, a smirk toying on your mouth. The two of you often were fond of teasing one another, poking at one another until the other grew red - then you’d smother the other in kisses to make up for the relentless teasing. “Do I need to be jealous of her? Is that why it takes you so long to come to my room at night, are you seeing her before you see me?”

You had pulled away from him midway, now seated on his cot. He was red in the face and gaping as he tried to intervene, but you kept talking.

“I mean, wow, Tam? I didn’t realize you were the type that liked to be dominated-”

It was your turn to be cut off, giggling when he moved across the room, pinning you down against his bed. You felt your heart begin to race, your own cheeks turning red as his face sat merely inches away from you, his large hand squeezing your wrist down beside your head onto his bed.

“You really like to get under my skin, don’t you?” He asked, squeezing your waist. Behind his glasses, you noticed his pupils were blown, his eyes dark. “Do you like seeing me mad, liebling? Does it get you hot and bothered when you see me wrapping my hand around Volkov’s throat? Do you wish that was you?” You felt his hand moving up your side, groping at you until his hand wrapped lightly around your throat.

His thick German accent, mixed with the sultry tone that was dripping from his tongue, made your stomach flip, the heat between your thighs pulsating. Biting down on your lip, your free hand moved up to grip at the collar of his suit, panting slightly.

“Maybe it does.”

Your simple quip seemed to do it for him. Feeling his body shift slightly, Schmidt hummed in though, his hand moving from your neck and down, pressing into your lower stomach, pawing almost at your body before squeezing his way down to your thighs, pulling one up so he laid in between your legs.

By now you were hot and bothered. Feeling him grab at you, call you the sweet German pet name adored to call you. You felt his breath against your neck, shivering slightly before letting out a sweet moan when his lips pressed against the side of your neck, his teeth nibbling at the sensitive spot he knew of.

But you knew now wasn’t the time. Right now you two needed to be with the other crew members to initiate the next jump. The last thing you needed was for someone to walk in and catch you and Schmidt doing, well - that.

“Schmidt...моја љубав...my love, we need to get back.” You withered your hand from his wrist and to his chest, pushing him back until he was staring down at you, a disappointed frown on his face. You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head at how childish he was acting.

“Oh, Ernst - come now, I’ll make it up to you later.” You leaned forward and pecked the corner of his mouth, rolling out from under him before standing up, smoothing down your suit as you walked to the mirror by his closet, looking at yourself in the mirror as you began fixing your appearance.

It wasn’t that you two were embarrassed of each other, no you two were smitten for one another and it was truly sick. You just knew that given the dire of your work, what everyone expected out of the two of you, flaunting your attraction could be seen as distracting.

But that was just it, you two weren’t even dating. You weren’t sure how it all started, but one day the constant pinning became more - and now a year later you were where you were now. Sneaking off at night to see each other, to lay in bed and hold one another. Once this was all over, you knew that you’d return home, would Schmidt go with you?

By now Schmidt was standing behind you, obviously aware of your state of mind, deep in whatever thoughts you were having. When you caught glances with him through the mirror, you blushed and looked away. At that point, you heard him laugh and move forward to help you fix your hair, smoothing the parts that stuck up and tucking the longer pieces behind your ear.

“You look beautiful as always,” He pecked your cheek and wrapped his arms around you, holding you in an embrace, “Do you want to go out first, or me?” He asked against your ear, letting the silence sink in between you two.

You wanted to suggest why not the both of you just leave together, but you knew now wasn’t the time to let a potential argument break out, especially given how sour his mood already was - and it wasn’t even noon yet.

“Why not you?” You finally said, reaching your hands up to squeeze his, “After all, you need to be down there more than me. Acosta and I are just there for moral support.”

Turning in his embrace, you looked up at him and smiled, leaning into his touch when he held your face, “Yes, well, I’d like to think of you as my good luck charm.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at his comment, “If that were true, we’d be off this ship by now.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Schmidt leaned forward and kissed your temple, “Maybe,” He mumbled against you, kissing you once more before pulling back, beginning to make his way towards the door, “Maybe you’re my good luck charm in the sense of keeping me from really doing something stupid.”

Your mouth twitched at the comment, not into a smile, nor a frown, almost like you winced. Besides Tam, you were probably one of the only people on board that completely trusted Schmidt. His temper left him to be rather difficult to be around at times, but perhaps he was right - maybe you were his soft spot, his good luck charm as he liked to say, because never has his temper ever gotten to you.

But there was still that sinking feeling in your stomach, as he headed out of his room and down the hall to meet with the others, leaving you standing alone in his quarters.

If this test were to fail - would Schmidt truly snap? Would you finally feel his wrath?

[misslovasstuff]

Troublesome jealousy

Dazai x reader

“Are you serious? I’d never!”- you slightly push Dazai away as he whispers his plan to you.

“You have to, belladonna.” - he claims, pretending to be disappointed. Like, his little mind can think of a hundred of ways how we can do this differently but nooo... He wants you to go there and seduce the guard.

“Yeah right. This is just for your entertainment isn’t it?”- You cross your arms in disbelief.

As Dazai opens his mouth to reply, a certain noise captures his attention. He touches your lip with his index finger, singnaling you to keep quiet. The warehouse’s door which you were desperate to get in was just opened by a young man who held fire guns and wore dark shades. 

“There he is. You should go now.”- Dazai whispers and you shook your head.

“I’ve never met such a headstrong woman before. - he rubs his temple with a sigh. -Do you want me to go and seduce him myself?”

“What the...no!”- you groan in anger - Fine! I’ll go.”

Dazai smiles at the sight of you, getting your hair into a ponytail. Raising your hands up caused your shirt to raise as well, exposing a bit of your tummy. Dazai couldn’t help but stare, eyes dancing happily all over your body.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” - he says while leaning in to kiss your neck. “Shh, concentrate now. Did you enable your michrophone?” - you push him away, containing yourself from smiling.

Dazai nods but he stays with his arms open, asking for a hug. You sigh but give in to him once you catch a glimpse of that adorable pouty face of his.

Once you’re in his embrace, his hands slowly travel down your back, touching places he was accostumed to touching. 

“Dazai, - if you didn’t pull him into his senses, the situation might have agreviated. - Do you want me to go or ah~

A love bite of his makes your legs tremble.

“Fine then, - he kisses your cheek and claps his hands, - you go love! Hear me through the microphone I implented on the back of your neck.”

You nod to him, a bit scared and a bit ashamed.

You start walking towards the warehouse building. Every step seemeed heavier than the previous one. 

There stood the man, watching you approach him.

“Seduce him? What even am I supposed to do?” 

You turn your head back and notice Dazai smirking. That expression annoyed you to the core.

What kind of boyfriend is he? Sending me to seduce other men?

“Damn it.” - you cuss under your breath.

Lowering your head from the shame, you remember the reason why you’re here in the first place. This is your mission and you had to succeed.

Clenching your fists, you control your embarrassment and raise your head up.

“Since we’re doing this, - you smirk at Dazai from afar which leaves him confused, - might as well give it my all.”

A wave of confidence conquers your being as you walked towards your stage that was about to leave a certain audience member a bit irritated.

“Oh my!- pretending to almost trip, you tear apart a bit of your skirt. Your dress outfit wasn’t exaggerated, but you made it look that way. - can I get some help please?”

He points his gun at you. Dazai watches from his hiding place. He furrows his eyebrows but still waits for you to take action.

Raising your hands up, with a smirk on your face, you laugh. A sweet and innocent laughter that would make any man vulnerable. 

“Come on now, I’m here for just a little fun~

Your soft voice made the guard lower his gun. You bite your lip and approach him.

“You know, - you walk slowly to the young guy, pulling his collar. - I’m a very lonely woman.”

The guard stutters at the sight of your half exposed chest pressing against his. Your blushed cheeks added to his excitement. His hands start to travel behind your back. 

Meanwhile, Dazai’s a bit uncomfortable at the sight. What he meant by ‘seduce’ was just a word play. He’d thought you wouldn’t do it and then he’d take action. Little did he know that his girlfriend was such a tease.

You exedeed his expectation. His face darkened and there was a hint of possesivenes. Truly speaking, Dazai was posseive only when it came to you and seeing this whole scene in front of him, made his eyes shoot posion arrows to the guard’s hands which were touching his precious.

 With a stoic voice, Dazai spoke through the microphone:

“Alright that’s enough. Use your ability.”

You heard him loud and clear but you didn’t stop.

“I’m desperate to be touched, you see...”- you move your hands all over your body, letting out some small moans.

The guard scans you from head to toe and smirks:

“A beauty like you shoulnd’t feel this way, miss. May I be of help to you?”

The guard brushes off your lips and Dazai loses it. You were playing a very dangerous game. Dazai was not the type to play around, at all. 

“Y/n I swear if you let him touch you one more time!”

He was growing impatient. The hands of another man all over your body, and those words of yours was making his blood boil. 

You cupped the guards face while he pulled you closer by the waist.

“I’m in need of a good man.”- You whisper to the guard’s ear but it was loud enough for Dazai to listen from the other side of the microphone.

That was it, he had reached his limit. 

“Y/n, didn’t you hear what I said, love?” - oh gosh, his tone of voice made you shiver in pleasure. Loving but in such agressive way, you had made him angry and it was a sight to behold once you ended your little scheme.

“Someone who doesn’t send me to seduce other men, at least.” - you shout at the microphone and activate your ability, making the man in front of you uncouncioness.

Once he’s down, Dazai starts walking towards you while you were fixing your outfit.

“Oh don’t even bother Y/n, - he grabs you by the wraist, - that outfit of yours will be shred to pieces later.”

“Why are you angry? Didn’t I do well?”

“Too well in my opinion. But that wan’t part of the plan.”

“Part of your plan you mean? I thought my orders were to seduce, right?”

Dazai sighs, then grabs your face with his large hand.

“Don’t do this to me again.” - he pushes his lips against yours but a cough interrupts your ongoing romance.

“Oh right, we have a mission to accompllish.” - Dazai smirks, looking at the enemy in front of you.

“If you weren’t so troublesome...”

“I love it when you call me that.”

[xiyao-feels]

☕ possibly unpopular opinion, but I don't think lxc survives his seclusion. I think his world view is too badly shattered and he either wastes away slowly or outright kills himself.

I like—one-quarter agree with this, I think?

On the one hand, as I've said before, I do think CQL LXC kills himself. The man is just... really completely broken. And also just tried to die with JGY. I mean, I don't even think he goes into seclusion first, necessarily.

On the other hand, while MDZS LXC is also very much broken, I don't think he does die; even aside from anything else, JGY is still sealed in the coffin, and dying would be leaving him behind in a way it wouldn't in CQL—so in MDZS I don't think he does.

The part where I totally disagree with you is—I don't think it's about his worldview. It's about JGY being dead. I—think people very much want it to be about something other than that (including his grief for JGY /and NMJ/, which, still no) , and I am as ever prepared to look at a textual argument in favour if someone wants to assemble one, but honestly I think the text is pretty clear here. Throughout the temple, he's reacting and processing pretty normally—to borrow from my own previous work, here's an overview of some of his reactions to things and people other than JGY:

Obviously we see [LXC] react when he’s telling LWJ about WWX’s feelings, but even beyond that, even when he’s occupying a more background role in the narrative, we’re given his reaction quite a few times. He sighs when LWJ seals his spiritual powers (ch 100); he tends to NHS, covering with his outer robe (ch 102), comforting him when he’s disturbed at the sight of the coffin (ch 103), protecting him from SMS (after NHS frames him for stabbing him, ch. 107) and from NMJ (ch 107), and comforting him and giving him pain medicine about the wound in his leg (ch 108); along with LWJ, he’s distressed by the sound of JC’s sword-scraping technique against JGY’s music (ch 101); he tries to warn JC a couple of times when JC is fighting JGY (ch 101), cautions JL (ch 101) and later JC (ch 102) about worsening JC’s injuries, and along with JL, WWX, and LWJ freezes when JC slaps JL to the ground (ch 102); he asks Minshan why he’s being rude to LWJ, and a little later, with SMS and JL, pauses in astonishment when LWJ laughs (ch 100); he averts his gaze from and seems perhaps embarassed by the ghosts that WWX summons (ch 104); he calls out to WWX to remind him that his current body is closely related to JGY, and will therefore attract NMJ’s fierce corpse (ch 107). He actually has a couple of entertaining reactions to Wangxian being Wangxian: he coughs and tells WWX it is maybe not the best time and place for this when WWX is about to repeat “I really wanted to sleep with you,” and then later he and Jin Ling inexplicably! move their sitting cushions far away from Wangxian’s and gaze into the distance (ch 100).

And of course he reacts to JGY again and again, and—again!—is engaging and processing. Again pulling from my previous post—

And more than anything else—in what I think is a very instructive contrast—he reacts to JGY, in a way that reflects an ongoing continual emotional investment. He is, quite notably, consistently worried about JGY and unable to stand the sight of him in pain, even when he thinks he shouldn’t be. When the coffin trap goes off, and they overhear Jin cultivators wailing and a pungent smoke emerges, there’s worry in LXC’s eyes; after JGY and Minshan make it out, and JGY takes some medicine against the poison, LXC hesitates for a moment and then asks what happened (ch 103). After LWJ cuts JGY’s hand off—which means /after/ he’s taken JL hostage, note—LXC “seemed as though he wanted to help him for an instant,” though “in the end he dared not” (ch 106). When Minshan asks him for medicine for JGY, seeing how terrible JGY looks, he hesitates slightly before they’re interrupted by NMJ’s success fighting the Jin cultivators (ch 107). After they’ve defeated NMJ, he treats JGY’s wrist; moreover, “Seeing that Jin GuangYao almost passed out from the pain, Lan XiChen, who in the beginning wanted to use this to punish him, still didn’t have the heart to bear it,” and goes for the pain-relief medicine from NHS. And this is all not even accounting for his reactions to JGY either during his questioning of JGY or post-stabbing!

and

For the first, he calls out Sect Leader Jin when JGY starts in on JC after JC calls him the son of a prostitute (ch 104), although notably he does not do the same in their earlier confrontation when JGY is distracting JC in order to defeat him, only warning JC (ch 101); when JGY confesses to having burned down the brothel, he’s distressed when JGY says that it wasn’t entirely to remove the traces (ch 105); he becomes /less/ angry about the second siege and about QS when it turns out that he was operating under constraint in those conditions (ch 106); and of course, the thing he’s angriest about is JGY killing his father, “and even in such a way” (ch 106). In ch 103, looking down at the coffin he is shocked that JGY buried something that caused such horror to its surroundings, but without further information about JGY’s reasons this does not metamorphose into anger.

And there's even more! I don't want to quote all of that section because it's really long, but you get the point: before JGY dies, he's distressed, sure, but he's still processing.

And then after JGY dies, it's—

Lan XiChen staggered a few steps back from the push. He hadn’t realized what happened yet.

Lan XiChen stared at the coffin enveloped in seven guqin strings. He was still lost in thought. Nie HuaiSang extended a hand and waved it before his eyes, terrified, “… B-Brother XiChen, are you alright?”

Lan XiChen, “HuaiSang, just now, was he really trying to catch me off guard with an attack?”

Nie HuaiSang, “I think I saw it…”

Hearing his hesitation, Lan XiChen pressed, “Think it over some more.”

Nie HuaiSang, “If you ask me like that, I can’t be sure either… It really did seem like…”

Lan XiChen, “Cut out the ‘seem like’! Did it happen or not?!”

Nie HuaiSang answered with difficulty, “… I don’t know, I really don’t know!”

This was the only thing Nie HuaiSang knew to say when he was desperate. Lan XiChen buried his forehead in his palm. He seemed as if his head was about to split, unwilling to speak again.

Lan XiChen was startled, “Induce? Induce what?”

Lan WangJi’s voice was low, “Jin GuangYao’s killing intent.”

If it were the usual ZeWu-Jun, he couldn’t have failed to fathom this. But right now, it was likely he had no more space in his mind to think.

(ch 109)

Veins suddenly lined the back of the hand in which Lan XiChen placed on his forehead. His voice sounded muffled, “… Just what does he want to do? I once thought I knew him well, and then I realized I did not. Before tonight, I thought I knew him well once more, but now I do not.” Nobody could give him an answer. Lan XiChen repeated in frustration, “Just what does he want to do?”

Of the people here, some were cleaning up the scene, some were solidifying the seal on the coffin, some were thinking about how to move it safely, and some were feeling angry. Lan QiRen raged, “XiChen, what in the world is wrong with you?!”

As his hand pressed the corner of his forehead, Lan XiChen’s face was full of an unspeakable grief. He seemed tired, “… Uncle, I am begging you. Ask no further. Really. Right now, I really wish to say nothing.”

Lan QiRen had never seen Lan XiChen, a child he single-handedly brought up, look so agitated and discomposed. He looked at him, then looked at Lan WangJi, surrounded by disciples alongside Wei WuXian, and felt more irritated the more he looked. He felt that of these two of his proudest disciples who had been absolutely perfect, neither listened to him anymore and both gave him much worry.

Lan QiRen watched Lan XiChen who followed behind him sluggishly, still absent-minded, and sighed forcefully before he left with a flip of his sleeves.

(ch 110)

And then in the banquet extras, three months later:

Wei WuXian still clung to Lan WangJi’s chest, face buried at his neck as he felt the sandalwood aroma on Lan WangJi’s body grow even richer. He felt lazy all over, eyes closed, “Is your brother alright?”

Lan WangJi embraced his naked back, stroking again and again. After a while of a silence, he answered, “Not really.”

Both of the two were sticky with sweat. Wei WuXian felt an itch crawl from his skin all the way to the bottom of his heart as Lan WangJi stroked him. He twisted somewhat uncomfortably, swallowing Lan WangJi even deeper.

Lan WangJi lowered his voice, “In the years when I was in secluded meditation, Brother had always been the one to comfort me.”

Yet now the situation was the exact opposite.

Likely because Lan QiRen got a heart attack whenever he saw Wei WuXian, he simply decided not to look at him, staring straight forward. Lan XiChen was pleasant as always, holding the hint of a smile at his lips that always seemed like spring wind. Yet, perhaps because of the secluded meditation, Wei WuXian felt that ZeWu-Jun looked a bit frail.

(ch 115)

After the tasteless meal, the servants took away the plates and tables. As usual, Lan XiChen started to summarize the recent plans for the sect. But after listening for just a few sentences, Wei WuXian began to feel that he was a bit absent-minded. He even remembered two night-hunting locations wrong and didn’t realize after he spoke, causing Lan QiRen to throw a couple of sideway looks at him and puff his goatee into the air. A while later, he finally couldn’t help but interrupt him. Fortunately, the sect banquet finally ended, although somewhat hastily.

(ch 116)

So to recap—before JGY dies, he's distressed but he's still processing and reacting to things basically normally, he's got his head in the game. And then after JGY dies, he is very much /not/ processing things, he's not reacting normally, the things he's preoccupied with are entirely about JGY, LQR is like 'I've never seen him this way before.' And when we see him three months later, failing at very basic tasks he's long performed perfectly, it's the same kind of symptom—just as it was in ch 109, he seems to have no more space in his mind to think.

There's also the explicitly-drawn parallels between him and LWJ—by LQR, and by LWJ himself, paralleling LXC's current state with his own time in seclusion. And what would LWJ have needed comforting about while he was in seclusion? It's not the shattering of his worldview—it's Wei Ying.

I'm not going to go and rewatch and cap CQL temple, but the same basic pattern shows. Before JGY's death, he's functional and processing: afterwards, he's broken. I do think CQL LXC is more emotionally agitated before JGY's death than MDZS LXC is, but he's also even less functional afterwards so it evens out. If you go to 18:40ish in ep 50 (on YT, might be a different timestamp in Netflix) you can watch LXC stand frozen and stare into space and totally fail to react to anything including the conversation right next to him about his brother and WWX having run off.

I mean, I think it's also about the manner of JGY's death, if JGY had, idk, died heroically saving JL's life or something a year earlier he'd still have broken but probably not as badly? But it really is about JGY.

Tldr: I do think he kills himself in CQL; I don't think he does, even passively, in MDZS; but either way, his state at the end of canon isn't about his shattered worldview, it's about JGY being dead.

[bjy-on-ao3]

(1/2) Heyy, thanks for your reply, and sorry it took me a while to put my request together but here it is: Reader is a shy naiad/nymph who often attends Dionysus' parties, one day he throws a party for Ares, perhaps post-victory celebration. Ares is still in war mode (when is he not lol) and his mood is affecting the other party-goers, so much so that it starts disrupting the party (fights breaking out and what not). Dio wants people to start having fun again so he coaxes reader into helping ares uhhhh 'destress', maybe makes her drink a little ambrosia/wine to loosen up(two birds one stone y'know, he gets reader out of their shell as well). Of course *Dio* joins in the 'festivities' too bc can't be letting ares have all the fun dkkd.

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

I’ve wanted to attempt this request for a while now, but I needed some study into certain parts of it I wasn’t familiar with. I hope y’all enjoy the fic nonetheless and my bits of inexperience in certain portions don’t show overmuch!

(Note: There is no Ares/Dionysus in this fic & this is featuring the characters from the Hades game, if that weren't clear already.)

Summary

During a post-war celebration, the God of War gets a bit out of control, making tempers run hot. With Ares’ bloodlust infecting the party and threatening to ruin it by becoming a brawl, Dionysus enlists Reader’s aid to help his brother wind down. Though he isn’t one to be left out of the fun either.

Tags/Warnings

Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal S*x, Biting, Blood, Creampie, Double Penetration, Drunk S*x, Hand Jobs, Nymph Reader, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Rough S*x, Shameless Smut, Slight Breathplay, Stomach Bulge, Threesome, Vaginal S*x, Voyeurism

Party Foul (Ares/F! Reader/Dionysus)

The sound of raised voices and angry snarls sent you fleeing from the area most folks had gathered to celebrate. Though it was a fete held by a local town in honor of some glorious conquest of war, the atmosphere had been light and jovial to start. However, it hadn’t been long until several of the Olympian gods deigned to grace the celebration with their presence, many with small groups of followers of their own. Mostly, the gods only added to the cheerful mood, the victorious soldiers feeling even more invigorated and honored by their presence. Yet the presence of one god stoked a fire in the blood of many present, whether soldier or laborer or homemaker. Already high on the chaos and strife from previous battles laid to rest, Ares, god of war, brought with him a mood that was electric and infectious. His revel in the bloodshed had boosted his mood, working him into something close to a frenzy. A frenzy that seeped out among the crowd, even after he had left the immediate area. It made them quibble and quarrel amongst one another, escalating until those unaffected began to cautiously distance themselves, lest they be caught up in an impromptu fistfight or worse. Arriving in tow with one of the attending gods, as was common among your fellow nymphs, you had been reluctant, but still secretly excited to enjoy the celebration. You were more than willing to enjoy the captivating atmosphere of good humor and greater cheer, even if you weren’t quite so unphased as your brethren. But as the mood of the hour had grown sour and bitter, voices raised, several men had started physical fights. You had quickly balked and ran. Your flight had taken you to one of the small surrounding buildings, breathing a deep sigh of relief once the angry voices and shouts faded to something far more faint. Stopping, listening for a time, you willed your stammering heart to slow, at least until the sound of sandals drew your attention. You cast a wary glance over your shoulder, ready to run again before recognizing the broad figure behind you. Turning to face the god whom you had accompanied to the party, you opened your mouth to speak, only for him to cut you off. “Ah, perfect timing!” Dionysus’ smooth voice boomed. “C’mere, babe, I could use a little help.” “I-What is it, my Lord?” you asked, thrown off by how laid back he sounded, despite the faint ruckus not far off. You hadn’t spoken to him too much personally, his attention often taken by those more willing to vie for it. “You’re having a good time, yeah? I mean, before all… that,” he trailed off with a lazy gesture of his hand, showing his distaste for the brutish behaviour that had stirred up. “Oh, yes! Before that, absolutely,” you answered, nodding. “Fantastic! What do you say to livening things up a little then?” You couldn’t hold back the furrow of your brow. “Ah, it seems like the city folk have taken it upon themselves to do just that already… Not that I mean to say no, my Lord!” you added quickly. Dionysus grimaced at the reminder of the ongoing brawl growing nearby. “That’s.. Not quite the mood I’m looking for. That’s why I need a little help to cool things down,” he continued, the sour look quickly swept away. “Follow me babe; I promise it’ll be a good time.” “Alright,” you agreed with another acknowledging nod, thinking you would rather be further away from the fighting anyhow. “Great, this way then,” Dionysus gestured once more, this time the gesture more welcoming, an insistence for you to follow him. You followed quietly, giving a few idle glances around the building as he led you through it, down a long hall and to a secluded room. It seemed to be some kind of lavishly decorated bedroom or lounge, littered with chaises and sturdy chairs. Several sconces peppered the wall, giving it a warm, golden glow and leaving nary a corner of the room cast into darkness. On several tables sat platters of breads and cheese, eggs, fruit, and even one of various meats, flanked with several chalices and vessels of what you assumed wine and other spirits. Dionysus stopped at the

door, giving you a gentle push into the room while he waited before the doorway. “Wait here for a minute, babe, I’ll be right back,” he assured you with a grin. Uncertain exactly what it was Dionysus required of you - given who you were dealing with, you had ideas, of course, but one could never be completely sure - you did as you were told. You settled yourself on the edge of one chaise, eyeing one of the more impressive looking vessels on the tables. You decided against having a taste from it, deeming it better to just wait until Dionysus returned. After a few minutes that dragged on, the sound of footsteps drew near once more - this time more than just one set, the additional footsteps heavier than the first. Dionysus reappeared in the doorway, stepping into the room, followed by another man who could only be another god, judging by the broad breadth of his shoulders and chest and the fearsome, bloody red eyes that fell on you. You recognized him instantly - the god of chaos and war was hard to forget, after all - and most you knew gave him a wide berth. It wasn’t so much that he was unpredictable that concerned most people, rather that his fondness for war and violence was exceptionally predictable. You suppressed the urge to rise from your seat and make some hasty excuse to retreat, not fond of the wild-eyed excitement painted on the new god’s face that seemed barely held under control, or the nearly tangible aura around him that made your skin prickle. Despite being dressed in less warlike attire than the armor he often wore and was well known for, Ares was still large and imposing. The addition of several blades remaining strapped or tied here and there did little to dull that impression. You looked to Dionysus, seeking distraction from Ares’ entrance, wondering what business he had that involved you and also required Ares. “What was it you needed my help for again, Lord Dionysus?” you piped up as you watched him coax Ares into reposing on another chaise some distance away. Walking back to you, Dionysus eyed you for a second, and then his eyes flickered back to his brother, who seemed a bit more mild, though still impatient and worked up. “You saw the scuffle outside, yeah, babe?” he asked easily, seeming hardly put off by Ares’ frightening aura. You nodded silently, feeling as if he wasn’t quite done speaking. “Old Ares over there got a bit overexcited, and it’s really killing the mood,” Dionysus complained, tone dipping slightly in annoyance at the idea of a ruined mood, heaving a small sigh. “He could stand to… wind down, if you catch my meaning.” You weren’t dull, and catch his meaning you did quickly, looking to Ares. “Oh,” you said quietly, feeling more apprehension rise. Ares was appealing enough, you couldn’t deny that, but he was also nearly as frightful. “What do you say, babe? Think you can convince him to relax?” As carefree as Dionysus sounded, he still seemed aware of your worry, too. “If you’re feelin’ nervous, I’ve got a little something that might just help you out.” He reached for one of the more ornate vessels on the table before pouring some of the liquid into a goblet. The liquid was a rich, royal purple, some kind of wine that seemed to smoke faintly, though the scent that wafted from it was heady and sweet. “I promised it’d be a good time, right? Just drink this and trust me, babe.” Fickle though most gods were, from your experience Dionysus was trustworthy enough for his words to be reassuring. The wine in the cup would no doubt deal away with any lingering uncertainties as well. You considered the cup for a moment more, giving a second half-nod and reaching to take it from Dionysus’ hold. You drained it quickly, far quicker than you might have under normal circumstances. Now was not the time to sip and recline. You needed whatever aid that wine might offer. For several passing, heavy moments, your nerves remained. But a warm, gentle buzz crept up, drowning your concerns out until they were naught but an indistinct drone in the back of your head. A warmth starting in your

cheeks spread down your neck and chest, leaving you suddenly less stiff, less concerned by Ares’ menace. The prospect of helping him ‘relax’, as Dionysus had so casually suggested, became less frightening by the second. As if he could tell how quickly his special wine had taken effect - you guessed it was more likely he knew how potent it was - Dionysus grinned. He extended a hand to help you to your feet, and you took it without a second thought. In the past, you had heard alcohol referred to as ‘liquid courage’, though you imagined that was regarding mortal drink. You didn’t think any mortal wine could have so put you at ease quite so speedily as what you had just drank. Yet, despite the potency of the alcohol, you were easily able to remain steady on your feet, even without Dionysus’ help. “Well, go on, babe,” Dionysus urged you nonchalantly. “Don’t want this party to go downhill anymore, do we?” With a gentle shake of your head, you released Dionysus’ hand, and swept past him, towards Ares from where he watched with vague interest. The warmth and confidence granted to you spread further, growing strong, whisking away the last tatters of your nerves and leaving a need to please behind. You noted that even though Ares showed some interest, he seemed restless, as if he would much rather be out among the ruckus he had unintentionally - you assumed - incited. “I’ve been told you're in need of some relaxation, my Lord,” you said in a tone you hoped was alluring. Ares scrutinized you for a silent moment from his seat, sipping something from a goblet of his own. Though the scent that drifted from his was far more potent and acrid. “Is that so?” Ares’ speech was much more calm and composed than you had expected, a striking contrast to the roiling expression in his eyes. His sharp gaze flicked to Dionysus where you had left him. He had settled onto another of the many chaises, indulging in his own drink already and looking as if he wasn’t paying you any further mind. “Very well,” Cutting red eyes turned back to you, and a shiver of anxiety you had thought drowned in wine shot through you. But you pushed the feeling away, calling on the courage bestowed on you by that same drink. “But first, off with those,” Ares demanded, gesturing with a nod of his head to your clothing. Quick to obey, your fingers flashed to your belt, undoing it and tossing it aside. Your fingers shook a little, yet you didn’t feel as if fear or worry were the cause now. Next came your tunic, pulled over your head as gracefully as you could manage, left to join your belt. At last, only your breast band remained, and you doubted it was exempt from Ares’ command. So if came off, too, leaving you stark nude in front of him. Were it not for the potency of the draught Dionysus had given you, you were sure your stripping would have been a clumsy mess, but even with your trembling touch, it had felt easy. “Now, come here, then,” the tone of Ares’ voice hardly changed, remaining thunderous and even, as if you had little effect on him. You moved until you were within reach, and Ares closed the rest of the distance between you, grabbing you by the wrist and thigh and pulling you onto his lap. Even in your pleasant haze, the sudden, unsettled motion struck you, and you sat still for a few seconds, trying not to blink owlishly at him. A ghost of a grin curled Ares’ lips, and he waited expectantly. Large, hard hands lingered on your skin. They shifted, and you flinched reflexively, and Ares’ smile showed a slight flash of teeth, as if he was enjoying the tension, however brief. “Don’t keep the man waiting, babe,” drifted Dionysus’ voice from his chaise. Apparently, he was paying more attention it had initially appeared. Shaking yourself out of your surprised stupor, you licked your lips and tried to relax again. You bent forward, planting your hands firmly on the front of Ares’ tunic and crushing your lip to his. The taste of whatever sharp, potent liquid he had been drinking met you head on, mingling with something pleasantly earthy and overwhelming the

lingering sweetness from the wine Dionysus had plied you with. There was a soft clunk as he set down his drink somewhere nearby, and his reaction was swift, pushing roughly back into the kiss and nipping harshly at your lower lip. One hand tangled in your hair, his grip stinging, preventing you from retreating. The other wasn’t to be left idle, sweeping over your form, grabbing rough handfuls of your ass or thighs or chest as it wandered. A cruel, full bite to your lip made you hiss and gasp, opening the seal of your lips well wide enough for Ares to thrust his tongue between them. When it twined itself with yours, it was as fierce as his kiss, waging a battle rather than taking part in what was for many a sensual dance. The hand roaming your body shifted to the small of your back, pushing your hips down into his, ensuring you felt the fruits of your effort to entice him, already straining beneath his clothes, hard and hot even through them. Ares pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath and taste blood as it trickled from your savaged bottom lip. Your tongue slipped out once more, re-wetting your lips and gathering the stray beads of blood. Something like amusement had overtaken Ares’ wild-eyed gaze. “What an obedient little nymph you have brought, brother,” he said smoothly, clearly addressing Dionysus, though his attention remained fixed on you, taking a more thorough measure of your form spread across his lap. Something you couldn’t quite place flashed through the cutting red for an instant before he spoke again, and you couldn’t contain another shiver. “How much can such a fragile creature handle, I wonder,” he mused, the hand that had captured your head sliding down and lightly skimming over your neck briefly. Another shudder wracked you, less noticeable this time, and your breath caught in your chest. “Come now, nymph, let us see.” Quickly, Ares was on you again, leaning forward in his seat, pressing you more insistently into his lap before the same hand dug into your hair again, pulling and directing until you were bent back at his mercy. As before, Ares didn’t try to be soft or considerate, nipping at your lips again and wrestling your tongue into writhing submission. The warm, encouraging strength of the brew Dionysus had supplied made the lines between arousal and fear bubbling beneath the surface warp and twist, and you weren’t sure which was surging from the less than gentle treatment. Small moans and gasps previously smothered by Ares’ mouth and tongue broke free when he moved away again, licking his lips. He didn’t waste time, though, moving down your throat just as aggressively as he had kissed you. Sharp bites and soon-to-be bruises left a burning path across your jaw and throat. A deep, satisfied hum rolled through Ares when he was met with hisses and groans in response. Though his actions were careless and painful, there was pleasure in them, too, stoking a growing heat in you as if each touch of his lips and teeth and tongue infused you with the excited heat of bloodlust that filled the war god. You rolled your body toward his harsh attentions, bare core grinding against the eager hardness tucked beneath his clothes. A dark laugh tickled your skin, and you cracked your eyes open to spy an amused expression gracing Ares’ face. They snapped shut again to absorb the myriad mix of pain and pleasure as he assaulted your skin all over again. Somehow, his mouth on your skin felt so hot, even though you were sure your entire body was already aflame. So caught up in Ares’ attentions, you paid no mind to what had become of Dionysus. He lay eyeing the entire spectacle while he reclined languidly on his own chaise. Had you realized, it would have come as no surprise that the hedonistic god was fond of watching. And for a time, Dionysus was content to do just that - watch - his eyes glued to your reactions from his brother’s touch. But it wasn’t long before looking alone wasn’t enough, and his hand drifted to his lap, palming an erection of his own and stroking it through the fabric. Ares withdrew

again, allowing another short reprieve from his onslaught of mouth and hand. You followed him, moving your hands from his chest to his lap. A tiny part of you urged you to trace the outline of his erection beneath his clothes, to take your time. Yet another, far louder, more sensible part suggested that Ares wouldn’t likely take too kindly to a light and teasing touch. You abandoned the notion, ignoring the dull sting of the marks Ares had bit and sucked into your skin. You pushed his lappets away instead, and his cock stood free and stiff before you, almost as imposing as its owner. Rather than taking the time to admire him, you wrapped a hand around his thick cock, rewarded with a deep, primal sound. Ares’ head tilted back for a moment, basking in your hand slipping up and down his length. You squeezed a little harder as you stroked him, and Ares groaned; a husky, growling noise that went straight to your cunt. You didn’t hear the footsteps approaching closer and closer behind you, nor did you catch the motion sweeping toward you. You only realized Dionysus’ suddenly much closer present when Ares tipped his head forward and cast his eyes past you. A brief glimpse of annoyance flitted across his face, quickly erased as you continued to fondle his cock. “Inviting yourself to join in, brother?” Ares asked, and part of you was almost disappointed to hear how collected and smooth his tone sounded, as if you weren’t touching him at all, nor as if he had set upon you like a wild beast before that. Your pace slowed, but didn’t stop as you twisted as far as you could to look back over your shoulder. You found Dionysus standing in front of Ares’ chaise, his own excitement easily noticeable beneath his flowing tunic. “Can’t very well resist a show like this,” Dionysus excused shamelessly with a shrug. Something told you this was hardly the first time he had intruded on someone else’s carnal moments. Or perhaps his eternally relaxed attitude only gave off that sense. “You’ll just have to learn to share.” Your glance flicked from one to the other, expecting Ares to look more irritated at Dionysus’ casual decree, but he seemed to brush it off with a short, dismissive hum. His focus returned to you, deciding you more worthy of his time. He swiped your hand away from his cock, shifting you in his lap with both hands. You barely registered the sound of rustling of cloth behind you, completely distracted as Ares positioned you properly over him. He didn’t bother taking his time easing himself inside, jerking your hips down and bucking his upward. You stiffened immediately, biting your abused lip at the sudden stretching, aching sting as he filled you completely. You clawed at the fabric of the chaise, taking a deep, quivering breath. Fortunately, the wine and, somehow, Ares’ rough handling had left you limber and wet enough that the stretch of Ares’ cock wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Yet still, you couldn’t restrain a pained whimper and a shorter, gasping breath when he shifted, lifting you up and forcing you back down. “Aah, Lord Ares, it- I-I can’t--” Your words were cut short by a whine, and your eyes shot down, avoiding Ares’ cruel crimson ones, again attempting to relax, focusing on the pleasure beneath the pain. You swallowed hard, and your cunt constricted, despite the burning ache, at the sight of the bulge in your lower belly. You hadn’t missed Ares’ considerable endowment when you had been touching him beforehand, but the sight of him so noticeably buried in you was a little frightening, and somehow even more arousing. “What troubles you so, nymph?” you tore your gaze away from the lewd sight it was fixed on to meet Ares’ eyes when he spoke. The cut of his voice was derisive, almost cruel, and a leer adorned his lips. “Surely you can handle this,” he added. He lifted and lowered you again, harder, and his smirk grew just a little when you winced and a gasping ‘ah’ burst from your lips. Somehow it was no shock a god entangled in violence and war would enjoy some pain, even in play. Dionysus’ familiar voice

floated to you before you could answer, smooth as honey, and almost soothing. “Easy, babe, you’re doing great.” His words were an intimate whisper, and if Ares could hear, he didn’t care to acknowledge them, only spearing you on his cock all over again, settling into a slow, rough pace. “Gotta relax, let it all go,” Dionysus urged you, and the tickle of his breath sent a pleasant chill down your spine, making your cunt squeeze down on Ares’ length again. Dionysus’ hands splayed across the bare skin of your back, feeling almost cold on your overheated skin. He smoothed around your torso until a breast filled each large palm, his thumbs rubbing lightly over your nipples. The sensation was a welcome contrast to the sting of Ares’ brutal fucking. Though the pain didn’t seem as bad as it had been - whether you were becoming used to it, or the pleasure Dionysus added muted it, you weren’t sure. Ares’ hands, meanwhile, remained steadfast on your hips, content to hold them in a grip tight enough to surely bruise. Each new time you sank down on his dick, your breath escaped in a gasp or breathless groan. The sounds you made morphed into something steadily more erotic, breathier and wanton. Ares’ voice drifted out, too, though in rumbling grunt when he buried himself completely inside you. Coming down on his length again, another hardness met you, from your backside this time, your ass sliding against it as Ares continued to fuck you. A fleeting glance back told you was Dionysus, proudly nude having decided completely discarding his long tunic was the best course of action. Your lapse in attention earned you more punishment from Ares, though, and he took the chance to lean forward and bite down on your neck sharply. Your hands flexed again, digging into whatever it was they had settled on now - you weren’t concerned with what, be it cloth or flesh or anything else. Your head snapped around, meeting entertained, self-satisfied red. Dionysus’ erection drew back and one hand lifted away. After several more thrusts, something hard, but smaller and more pliant prodded at your ass. Coated in something tacky and slick, what you assumed was one of Dionysus’ fingers searched briefly before finding your asshole and rubbing against it in small, gentle circles. An extra hard thrust from Ares made you tense and whimper, though your body clenched around him again. Still near your throat, Ares’ mouth closed over your skin again, biting and sucking greedily. Dionysus’ finger abandoned the lazy circles, pressing lightly against your puckered hole, steadily forward, careful despite Ares’ jarring pace. When the digit finally slipped through the ring of muscle, you hissed, a new discomfort striking you for an instant, in combination with Ares’ harshness. But whatever coated Dionysus’ finger had made the penetration only uncomfortable for a brief moment, and when he eased his finger in and out, the discomfort shifted to the back of your mind, replaced by the increased sense of fullness. Alongside it, a bubbling tension was awakening in your core, spurred on by the treatment of both gods, boiling low and tightening further ever-so-slowly. A second thick finger joined the first, and you became more used to the newest intrusion, taking in the swell of sensations enveloping you. Dionysus’ pace shifted to match Ares’ in speed, but it remained careful and otherwise languid. The hand he had left on your tits though became notably rougher, though, from excitement, rather than pleasure in pain. Ares’ grip on your hips wavered, no longer needing to so forcefully direct you. The ministrations from both had worked you into a wild heat that encouraged you to rock and grind against him and back onto Dionysus’ fingers. You couldn’t decide which your body craved more. All you knew was you needed both. Any remaining tension had been completely sapped away, along with all coherency you had possessed. An unbidden whine broke free when Dionysus withdrew his fingers, turning halfway into a gasp and then a moan when Ares paired a hard thrust with an even harder

bite on the junction of your neck and shoulder. You had little time to protest or miss any of the sensations before the hotter, harder touch of Dionysus’ cock returned, coated in the same thick, slick substance as his fingers. He aligned himself with your ass, as smooth and relaxed as before. “Better take a deep breath, babe,” Dionysus purred in your ear, both of his hands shifting to cut your rear. He pushed forward as you impaled yourself on Ares once more, his entrance mindful and slow; the opposite of his brother’s entirely. You drew a sharp breath, not from Dionysus’ warning, but simply from the way each inch added more and more to what you had already believed to be a fullness that threatened to split you wide. By the time Dionysus, too, was sheathed inside of you, the fullness bordered on overwhelming, and your breathing faltered again, your mind so completely scrambled. Your head fell back and your lips opened in an ‘oh’ of pleasure, dull pain, and a plethora of other intense, mixed feelings. You tried to rock into them both, to meet each thrust, though when their paces aligned, you could do little but writhe and moan, as if all sense had been wrung from you. Dionysus mouthed at your ear playfully, tongue curling across the shell. “Mm, you’re doing great, babe,” he praised in a husky whisper you almost didn’t catch, so caught up in everything. But catch them you did, and they sent another shudder coursing through you, your body squeezing both gods desperately and drawing more erotic sounds from them both. Another growling, low moan from Ares. A breathy, hedonistic groan from Dionysus. They only added to the mounting maelstrom of arousal and heat. Your heart quickened when one of Ares’ hands abandoned your hips and splayed around your throat loosely. His lips brushed your ear, and as he spoke, he squeezed, just enough to make your heart beat even faster and your breath come a bit more shallow. “Enjoying yourself, are you, nymph?” he growled cheekily. “I might have expected as much from one of my dear brother’s little harlots.” Had you been more sober, clear minded, Ares’ words, sounding nearly a slight, might have made you flush hot with humiliation. Instead, they worked only to heighten your desire, flowing into everything else. You had no mind left for embarrassment. All that remained were the mind-numbing sensations surrounding you and filling you. Ares’ voice dropped away, his pace picking up, his hips bucking harder into yours. Even Dionysus behind you thrust a little faster, harder, his own peaking arousal just as plain as Ares’. You weren’t immune to the welling up of pleasure, either, your belly churning and tight with a winding heat that was nigh unbearable. It grew and grew each time you were filled, and you wanted to scream instead of moan, cry instead of gasp. The thick intrusions, the wandering and groping and squeezing hands, and the greedy, hot tongues and teeth. It all came together in the perfect storm of mindless, primal passion. You came before either of them, giving into whatever wanton shout or cry wanted to escape, your muscles clenching frantically. When first the tense coil of heat burst, you were set awash with that heat, searing and intense, as if lightning struck. Your orgasm rose and fell, only to be dragged out by Ares’ and Dionysus’ unceasing pace, thrusting into your heat unrelentingly. The end of one orgasm blended into the beginning of another, and hot, overwhelmed tears brimmed in your eyes before breaking away. On either side of your face, each god lingered. Dionysus whispered more sultry words of praise and encouragement, placing sloppy kisses on your temple and cheek. Ares nipped your jaw and licked at the salty trail of your tears, as it was an exquisite taste that delighted him. Ares’ hips rolled into you harder than ever before, pace becoming wild and erratic. With a final sharp thrust, Ares’ release filled your cunt, hot and thick, accompanied by a savage bite to your neck that left the warm, sticky feeling of blood in its wake. When he pulled back, a bit of

blood smeared on his lips and teeth, he looked even more warlike and intimidating than to start. But something in his expression seemed sated, calm almost - or at least as calm as a god of such chaos could be. Dionysus, despite joining in later, took little longer to reach his own climax, and with a grinding thrust, he, too, coated your insides with his cum. A drawn-out, erotic moan followed in the wake of his orgasm, and he lay his head on your shoulder, his hair sticking to your overheated, sweat-slicked skin. After a moment of silence, Ares reclined back more comfortably, though didn’t bother to lift you off his length. Dionysus pulled away, withdrawing leisurely with a sound of contentment. Feeling exhausted and sore, you chanced collapsing against Ares’ chest, and to your surprise, the war god allowed it. You ignored the warm, wet feeling seeping down your thighs, too tired to truly care. “There. Don’t we all feel better now?” asked Dionysus cheerily, hardly sounded tired or winded at all. He paused to listen in silence, searching for the previous ruckus. “Certainly sounds a bit quieter out there now.” “Perhaps,” Ares drawled, and he didn’t sound very taxed either. It seemed you were the only one so tired. “I may yet have more use for your nymph before the night is done,” Ares decided, and you jumped reflexively when his fingers curled in your hair and massaged absently, in a gesture that could almost be confused for affectionate. Dionysus hummed acknowledgement. “Well, I’ll be back in a bit then. Try not to have too much more fun while I’m gone.” You heard rather than saw Dionysus redress and depart, too tired to bother looking. Your mind wandered to what other uses Ares might have for you, as he had stated. Did Dionysus have similar intentions in mind for the evening, too? Whatever the case, this wouldn’t be a night you would soon forget.

[sunjaesol]

baby, you ain't being slick

juke | human!au + strangers | title: juice // lizzo 

He didn’t want to be here. Alas, his friends could be persuasive if they wanted to. 

After a shit day in the studio, another rejection letter from agencies all around, contrived lyrics scratched on lined paper and one sugar crash, Alex and Reggie decided to go to a karaoke bar. Of all places they could go to take the edge off, they decide on an establishment that would literally be his cause of death. Luke despised karaoke bars. Why listen to drunk people blabber lyrics they didn’t know (nor cared about) into a shitty mic at two am while sipping on an equally shitty margarita? Why torture himself with music when music itself was kicking his butt as of late? 

But then Alex told him mocking drunk people was fun and Reggie begged for a chance to sing ABBA, so Luke couldn’t refuse. He already acted like a douche enough today. 

So there he sat, on a barstool at Neon Affluenza on a Wednesday night peering into the aforementioned shitty margarita. The place recently opened and has gotten pretty good reviews, Luke quietly admitting that the vibe of the bar was pretty dope. Dark walls and black hardfloor flooring, dimmed lights and purple LED giving everyone a mysterious glow. The stage was small, as usual, with an underpaid DJ on the side playing the tracks. It was packed, loud chatter and clinking glasses overpowering the slurring words of the heavy-lidded, burly man onstage working his way through a Céline Dion track. Luke wondered for a second if the singer thought about how many people butchered her song and brought slander to her name every second of the night in all the karaoke bars all over the world. Oh well. At least she had a record deal and, you know, any significance. 

Alex sat next to him, grinning face illuminated as he texted Willie, as Luke lazily let his gaze drift across the room. The man has stopped and gotten a weak applause, the next person ascending the stage and singing - Jesus fucking Christ, kill him now - “Firework” by Katy Perry. This night truly was the worst. 

It didn’t help that for some reason, three girls have come up to him. Was this an ongoing bet from one friend group or something? To see which one of the girls could crack him? Any other night, he would’ve relished the attention, maybe even chatted one up enough to go home with. Flirting was second nature to Luke. The third girl was his type too! When he rejected her avances, she just shrugged and continued her way to Reggie. Which, he must admit, was a pretty confident move on her part. Regardless - Luke wasn’t in the mood and nothing, or no one, would change that. (Maybe he could sneak back to the studio...)       

“Excuse me-” A female voice called out, tapping his arm. 

He rolled his eyes. “Not interested.”

She scoffed. “You’re sitting on my jacket, asshole.”

Turning to face her, he froze for a beat. His unimpressed glare turned surprised at how pretty she was. Like, “double take on the street”-pretty. If he thought the girl from before was his type, he was mistaken. This was his type. She regarded him with minimal interest, brows raised and arms crossed. 

“So?”

His reply stuttered out slowly. “Uh... huh?” Awesome. He was twenty-three and unable to speak to a pretty girl like some pimply eleven year old playing spin the bottle for the first time. 

She tugged on his stool and - oh. The stool wasn’t leather, it was suede. He was sitting on her leather jacket. Shit. He terribly hoped he didn’t have butt sweat, or else mortification would take him out and not the piercing belt of the drunk singer. Either way, he embarrassed himself. 

“Shit!” He rushed from his chair and held the garment out for her. “Sorry!”  

With a sneer, she grabbed it from his grasp, fingers brushing and letting heat ripple up his arm. Holy shit. Yup. The night took a turn. He had to know who she was. 

She pulled the jacket on. “Thanks, I guess...” Just as she was about to disappear back in the throng of drunkards, he called out for her. 

“Uh, hey! I didn’t get a name!”

The girl turned around, an amused - hella attractive - expression flitting across her face (damn, in what factory did they make her?), and tracked his body with her eyes. Instinctively fixing his slouch, he hoped she was into that punk-rocker aesthetic. That jacket was sort of a clue, right? 

An ironic smile tugged on her lips. “Thought you weren’t interested, loverboy.”

Oh, fuck. His flirting game found their match and it was wrapped around a 5′4 girl with glossy curls and eyes glinting with challenge. Luke recovered as fast as he could from his whiplash and swaggered over to her, a charming smirk falling on his lips - the one he so often pulled to make the front row fawn. The girl didn’t look away, raising her chin to level his intensity. A giddy feeling spread in his chest. This could be fun. 

“That’s before I knew the leather jacket belonged to a pretty face like yours, princess.”

“Trust me,” she laughed, also attractive. Everything about her was fucking enigmatic. “I’m not a princess.”

He tried again. “What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?”, she shot back. 

He licked his lips, grinning, and held his hand out. He’d gladly bridge this animosity if it got him a name and a number. “I’m Luke.”

His hand was met with cold air, the girl laughing again and showcasing the cute, little gap between her teeth. It should be an imperfection, but it kind of made her better. Jeez, he didn’t even know her! Why she was laughing, however, he didn’t know. He’d lie if he said his ego wasn’t slammed. 

“Are you-?”

“Next up: my girl Julie with Lizzo!” The DJ yelled in the mic, a gaggle in the crowd hooting and whistling. His dream girl winked, throwing a thumb at the stage and shrugging like she felt sorry for interrupting the conversation.  

“That’s my cue. Bye!”

“Wait!” Argh! He didn’t pay attention to the DJ! Now he still didn’t now her name! A beat later, though, the latter words processed. Lizzo. This girl was going to sing... Lizzo? The most revered pipes of the 21st century? Yeesh. Maybe she wasn’t so perfect after all. 

The girl jumped on the stage like she owned it, the first notes of “Juice” booming from the amps, her body moving with the beat. Straightening her jacket and mirroring the smirk he just sported himself, Luke’s throat went dry. 

“Oh.” Alex casually came to stand next to him. “That’s Julie.”

“What?!”

But then she opened her mouth and any sensical thought flew out the window. Her voice was fucking magnificent. Clear, kind of raspy, yet loud and strong and an undercurrent that suggested years of rigorous training. This was not just some girl singing - she was singer. 

If I'm shining, everybody gonna shine I was born like this, don't even gotta try

Her eyes searched across the heads and then stuck on him, that damned smirk widening and sending him a look that would bring any man to his knees. And then, to finish him off, teasingly waved at him as she spit the lyrics. 

I'm like Chardonnay, get better over time Heard you say I'm not the baddest bitch, you lie!

Julie zoomed through the lyrics with ease, dancing and singing like it was breathing, and oozing every bit of confidence a person could have. Cocky nods and flirtatious winks and sinking in her knees to direct a lyric to people in the crowd. He corrected his previous thought: she wasn’t a singer, she was a performer; and she had him stammering. 

All of a sudden, she jumped offstage with the mic, the adoring audience parting for her like the Red Sea and the bartenders brightening the LED’s to give everyone a proper look at what she was doing. Luke should’ve known that one verse wasn’t enough - should’ve known that if he was the Flirt King, Julie was the Flirt Queen. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face though. She was incredible and - fuck it - the coolest girl he’s ever met. 

Coming to a halt right in front of him with that smile meaning checkmate, she obnoxiously pointed at him as she sung the bridge to the audience. 

Somebody come get this man I think he got lost in my DMs, what? My DMs, what? You better come get your man I think he wanna be way more than friends, what? More than friends What you want me to say?

Luke was shaking from laughter, flushing red yet buzzing with exhilaration at this girl putting him in his place. Putting on a show! Where has she been all his life?! 

Before he could snatch her waist, she ran back to the stage to belt out the last chorus with all her might, a dazzling smile breaking through. It was the first genuine, earnest one of the night and... wow.  Julie was breathtaking. 

Alex, unfazed, pressed his phone in his face. “She’s a singer from LA. Thought you’d know her.”

Her song ended, applause so deafening the pedestrians probably heard too, Julie making a silly face and bumping fists with the DJ. She must be a regular here. Weaving her way back to the bar, Luke mustered all his bravado into a laid-back stance and nonchalant smile. He couldn’t hide the mischievous spark in his eye though. That checkmate was still up for grabs. 

“A water, please,” she asked the bartender. Catching her eye, she turned towards him. “Hello again.”

“Gotta admit, Julie-” he leaned back, elbows propped on the bar. “-wasn’t too bad.”

From the way her eyes lingered on the movement, triumph flared in his chest. She came closer, cocking a hip and placing her glass next to his arm. “Ha! I can sing circles around you.”

He leaned in with a grin. “You’d be surprised.”

She didn’t back down. “Is that a challenge?”

“Ask me again in the morning.”

Huffing, she uttered: “What makes you think I’d go home with you?”

“Cause I do ‘wanna be way more than friends’ and, well-” He closed the space between them, calloused fingers tugging on a curl and tucking it behind her ear. Her skin was hot from the lights. For a beat, her resolve waned.“You’re still here.”

Those eyes that have been driving him wild flickered to his lips. He held his breath in anticipation. One night with this girl and some snarky lyrics later and he’d be back on the saddle. This was what he needed to get out of his funk. After, everything would just go back to normal. Right?  

Her lips suddenly grazed his, gaze flicking up and giving him a killer grin. Right - maybe not entirely back to normal. He wouldn’t mind Julie giving him a look like that more often. 

“You got yourself a deal... loverboy.”

@blush-and-books @willexx @unsaid-emily @alexjulies

[pictureamoebae]

Eternal thank yous, and news!

I want to say thank you so much for your kindness and understanding yesterday, to everyone who sent me a message and to everyone who didn’t but had a warm thought for me. Life is very difficult for many of us at the moment, and sometimes what feels like a never-ending struggle to just get through each day can suddenly turn into a bit of a crisis, and when that happens we need a little space and to re-calibrate.

I spent the evening watching Landscape Artist of the Year (really recommend this, and Portrait Artist of the Year -- wonderfully lovely shows that just make me feel wrapped up in a blanket), drinking hot chocolate, and eating chocolate biscuits, and despite a rocky start am feeling a little renewed today.

So what’s the news, I hear all 4 of you ask. Under the cut, because who wants to read stuff, amirite? (It’s about my Patreon, if you’re curious as to whether to click.)

Long ago I stated my commitment to always keep my TS4 content free for everyone, and that will always continue to be the case. Despite that, people kept pledging to me on Patreon for some reason (I never collected on these pledges), and others from time to time expressed a desire to support me in some way. 

I find the whole concept weird, because I just make the things that I enjoy making out of a strange and chaotic desire to Do Stuff. And I’m not even very consistent. Nevertheless, for fear of being attacked by absolute throngs of 6 or more of you positively belting me with your wallets I have decided to introduce feel-good tiers to my Patreon, for those of you who are so moved as to think supporting me is a good idea (you’re very odd but I love you).

I in no way at all ever expect anyone to join one of the tiers if they don’t absolutely want to out of some curious and misplaced sense of being amazing. And as I said, my content will remain free to everyone because everyone deserves 300 badly-recoloured walls and overly-cc-stuffed builds in their game. Everyone.

I offer nothing other than the warm glow of recognising you are an Extremely Special Person, although for higher tiers (which are experiments in seeing if there is anyone absolutely weird enough to want to pledge that amount) I do offer the chance to suggest builds that will make it onto my Big List Of Builds I One Day Hope To Make, and for the upper-most tier (which I never, ever expect anyone to pledge to because it’s ridiculous, but again, an experiment) a build made to your specifications. Rubbish benefits, I’m sure you’ll agree. I wouldn’t pledge to me. (This is how you sell yourself, right?)

I have sent messages to those kind, misguided souls who had already pledged on a per-creation basis to tell them of the move to a per-month tier system. I thought I would be able to cancel their pledges myself so they don’t find themselves in a situation they weren’t expecting, but it doesn’t appear to be possible. I’ve made it clear I absolutely understand if they need to cancel their pledges (which I never previously collected on, as I said), and I apologise to anyone for whom this is an inconvenience. If there is another way to deal with this, please let me know because I don’t want anyone to find themselves in a situation they didn’t expect. I’d be pure fumin’.

I chose GBP £ because that’s where I’m based, and of course now everything looks weird and un-rounded in dollars, which is probably what most people will see first. I’M SORRY. I’m old and tired and technology is an eternal frustration.

Here are the ridiculous tiers, for those who want to save themselves a click through to my Patreon. Don’t get excited. They are rubbish.

You are special - £1 per month. You. Yes you. You are special. Thank you for choosing to support me. I send you a warm fuzzy feeling of appreciation.

And you are also special - £3 per month. How did you get to be so special? It's a mystery. But you really are, and I appreciate you so very much, thank you. I send you all the warm fuzzy feelings you can cope with.

Who's a special Simmer? YOU ARE! - £6 per month. Who knew that being you was such a gift? You are truly appreciated, in everything you do. In this tier, you get all the warm fuzzy feelings of previous tiers, with a little bit extra just for you. In addition, you can suggest certain TS4 builds you might like to see me make in the future that will get added to my Big List Of Builds I One Day Hope To Make.

Well someone's special. IT'S YOU! - £12 per month. An experiment to see if anyone is weird enough to pledge to this tier. If you do, wow, you are so incredibly special I can't even. How do you do it? You get all the warm fuzzy feelings you can manage directed straight at your face for the length of your pledge, and beyond. You also get to suggest builds that will be added to my Big List Of Builds I One Day Hope To Make, and you also get to ask for a build made to your specifications just for you (well, okay, it will be released publicly too). Nothing too freaky, we're a (mostly) family friendly show here.

A special (re)shade of special! - £12 per month. Another experiment to see if anyone is weird enough to pledge to this tier. If you do, I can only marvel at your oddness and epicness. You get all the warm fuzzy feelings you can manage directed straight at your face for the length of your pledge, and beyond. You also get to suggest builds that will be added to my Big List Of Builds I One Day Hope To Make. And you get a ReShade preset made to your specifications (which will also be made available publicly). I will provide ongoing troubleshooting and tweaking support for the length of your patronage, and if you cancel (which is cool, it's all cool) I'll still provide troubleshooting as I already do for anyone and everyone who rocks up with a ReShade question.

I can only reiterate again and again, I do not expect anyone to pledge to any of these tiers. They offer nothing of value, and merely exist for those very, very few of you who are truly odd enough to think supporting my chaos and unreliability is a good use of your time and money.

Regardless, as I say in my updated About section on Patreon, I never could have imagined what a big part of my life The Sims 4 would become, and how much I would enjoy the friendship and company of the people in this community. Thank you, every single one of you.

[aces-of-the-center-court]

Hello, thank you for loving the reaction to ex scenario! Since it was our first attempt at scenario, we weren’t sure how well received it would be. But thankfully!! It was very loved. ╥﹏╥ Also, thank you for the request! I hope this would live up to the standard of the previous one. I had a hard time finding inspiration for this… (;´Д｀)

- Mod Raine reaction to ex with sakusa, atsumu & oikawa

Daichi Sawamura:

Hiking up the forested mountain, you made your way to the location for the children’s summer camp that you signed up to volunteer at. Upon arrival, you spotted numerous staff and volunteers scattered around, preparing materials. You approached the person-in-charge to offer your help and was assigned to the game team, where you were met with a familiar face.

“Y/N?”

“Daichi?” You both called out simultaneously.

“You two know each other? Perfect!” Said the person-in-charge, who then instructed, “Then I’ll put you both in charge of free play, okay? Help to brainstorm games that the kids can play during free play. Rest of the team, continue preparations for the treasure hunt.”

With a ‘Roger!’ from the team, the person-in-charge left before the two of you even opened your mouths to protest. Not that either of you would have anyway. You glanced at Daichi and let out an apologetic chuckle, “Let’s do this?” At his smile and nod, the two of you began to discuss and exchange ideas.

When the children arrived in their groups, you and Daichi were conveniently allocated to accompany the same group during their day activities. Paired together for several activities throughout the camp, you and Daichi quickly moved past the awkward stage and started interacting like before – constantly joking around, praising, and teasing one another. With natural chemistry between the two of you, getting along well with the kids earned the both of you a new nickname – ‘Parents Daichi and Y/N’ that promptly became a hot topic among the volunteers and children alike.

Soon, it was time for free play. The volunteers took turns being the tagger for ‘Red Light, Green Light’ and your time came shortly after.

“Green light,” You held on for a while, then concluded rapidly, “red light!” causing some to not be able to pause their actions in time, including Daichi who toppled over when he attempted to slide to a stop. Everyone turned their attention to Daichi and sneered at him for moving so obviously during Red Light, highlighting his movements to you.

Laughing at his misfortune, you gestured for him to come over, “Daichi, you’re caught!” With a small laugh, Daichi surrendered and jogged over. The instant he linked pinkies with you, echoes of bashful giggles and ‘oohs’ followed suit. “Did Daichi-san get caught on purpose to hold hands with Y/N-san?” mocked a cheeky child. Your face reddened while Daichi attempted to justify himself, but the children only continued chaffing him.

The teasing continued into dinner when Daichi gave you some of his potatoes (your favourite food) by habit, and into the next day when he shielded you from the water balloons during the water fight. “Daichi and Y/N are a couple!” soon became an ongoing buzz for the rest of the camp, with everyone pairing you two up repeatedly.

Time flew by quickly and before you realised, it was already the last night of the camp. At the thought of the camp ending, you couldn’t fall asleep. You decided to go for a walk, where you noticed Daichi sitting on the grass by the riverbank. After pondering for a moment, you strolled towards him, “Can I join you?”

Daichi looked up at the sound of your voice. With a soft gaze and warm smile, he set a handkerchief on the grass and motioned for you to sit.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d be here when I applied as a volunteer.” You spoke while settling down.

“Me neither,” Daichi replied and light-heartedly joked, “but I guess fate brought us together, even now.”

Sitting silently, the two of you reflected on your times together during the camp. It was filled with gleeful moments, almost as if time turned back to before your separation. The constant teasing only served to remind you two of those times.

“It’s about to end, huh?” You sighed.

Daichi nodded and asked, as if debriefing, “So, what’s your favourite part of the camp?”

“Probably free play!” You contemplated before answering, “Being in charge of it made me feel more emotionally attached.” then chuckled as you added, “Also, your fall was pretty hilarious.”

Daichi laughed as he recalled his fall. “It seems I fell for you again.” He joked to mask his embarrassment, then fell silent after realising his remark.

Your heart skipped a beat. In case he could hear your beating heart in the awkward silence, you quickly changed the topic, “What about you? What’s your favourite?” A moment of quiet later, Daichi declared, voice deep.

“…I enjoyed every moment with you.”

Surprised, you gaped at his direction. “Y/N,” Daichi voiced with resolve, “I really don’t wish for it to end like this.” He returned your gaze with sincerity.

“Will you give me another chance to be with you again?”

Kuroo Tetsurou:

“Boo!” A voice yelled as a tall figure jumped out abruptly from behind a wall, causing you to jolt in surprise. Rather annoyed and confused by the sudden jump scare, you snapped your head up to spot the face of the culprit. Your irritated expression morphed into one of bewilderment when the face of someone you did not expect came into view, “…Kuroo?”

Pairing a playful smirk with earnest eyes, he teased, “Missed me?” After taking a second to process the situation, you dropped your shoulders in resignation and sighed, “It’s been so long since we last saw each other, and you decide to pop out from nowhere like that?”

He chuckled and apologised, “My bad. I saw you at the mall earlier and wanted to talk to you… but I couldn’t resist the urge for a dramatic introduction.” You shook your head and asked, “So? What did you want to talk about?”

Upon his request to speak somewhere more private, the both of you decided on the benches at the nearby park. Strolling past an advertisement-filled bulletin board, you stopped in your tracks. Back then, the two of you often tried novel activities together, signing up for random classes that you both were new to, from advertisements like those on the bulletin board or online. You scanned the bulletin board, mentally noting the activities the two of you have participated in together before. Kuroo observed your scrutiny and began browsing the bulletin board too.

“Say, we’ve never signed up for couple yoga classes before, did we?” You questioned while peering at the poster. Kuroo followed your gaze to the yoga class poster, “Couple yoga classes?” He contemplated for a while before answering, “Don’t think so.”

As you reminisced the past, a wistful smile formed on your face. “Do you still remember first time we signed up for one of these classes? When we went kayaking?”

“And capsized because you were moving about too much? I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.” He teasingly grinned.

“Hey, it was my first time alright! Sports may not be my thing, but I also recall someone making a crooked vase in pottery class…” It was your turn to tease him. Embarrassed by the recollection of his failed flower vase, Kuroo cleared his throat and defended, “I guess everyone has their strengths and weaknesses…”

At his excuse, you could no longer hold your laughter back at how silly the both of you were being. Following your burst of laugh, Kuroo guffawed as well. Reflecting back on all the activities the two of you did reminded both of you of the times when you two were still together. Nostalgia overcame the two of you and the laughter died down slowly. The fond memories filled both of your minds and now, you both just wished things could go back to how it was before.

Kuroo took another glance at the yoga poster. “Build intimacy and trust while working out with your partner…” He read off the advertisement, “Sound interesting, doesn’t it? Maybe we should try it some time.” He casually suggested, eyes still glued to the poster.

Thinking it was a joke, you laughed and retorted, “Yeah, no. It’s exclusively for couples, see?” You pointed to the subtitles of the poster and continued, “I’m guessing the poses would be too intimate for non-couples. If we go together, they’re going to think we’re dating.”

Kuroo redirected his gaze from the poster to you and positioned himself to lean his back against the board, cocking his head to your direction. “Well, are you dating someone else right now?” He questioned as naturally as he could while attempting to hide the hopes he was holding onto. Averting his gaze, you hesitantly answered, “No… but still–”

“Then why not?”

You blinked before staring blankly at Kuroo, startled by his unexpected reply, “Wha–” But before you could respond, he cut you off again, “Shall we date again?”

You fell silent. Deep inside, you longed for it. You were dying to say ‘yes’ and return to the carefree days when the two of you were together. However, you were unsure if he was joking and did not want to get your hopes high for nothing.

“Stop messing around…” You managed to muster despite your wavering heart. Kuroo pushed himself off the wall and turned your body to face him, prompting you to look at him. “I’m not kidding.” He muttered, eyes softening slightly as he locked gaze with you. With a serious expression, he repeated, “Let’s date again, Y/N. That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

[stutterfly]

Swipe Right 02 | Crosstalk | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst [later on], humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 10.2K

Last time on SR01: Namjoon introduced you to his friends and you find yourself absorbed into their little group rather quickly. While on your way to a Halloween party hosted at Jimin’s beautiful condo, you admit to your best friend Jennie that you have a crush on the sweet, shy, nerdy Jungkook. This just happens to be the same night he reveals his true nature: fuckboy. Now that’s just embarrassing, isn’t it?

Tags: Fuckboy Jungkook, let’s play some drinking games, dirty jokes, innuendos, friendship feels, jealousy, flashing, sexual tension, dumbBitch reader is drinking her dumbBitchjuice tonight, Tae makes things weird for half a sec, hint of foot fetish?, flirting with Hobi, flirting with Jin, embarrassedJoon who is also a mediator part time, tsundere softYoongi, Jimin is a traitorous snake who lives for the drama, Jungkook is like the kid pulling the pigtails of the girl he likes, tiniest glimpse at softboyeJK underneath

CW:  excessive drinking,  filthy language

Series: Activate your SIMCard Fic: Swipe Right (2/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost. masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

It's been months since the fiasco with Jungkook. You do your best to avoid any opportunity to hang with the group in a stationary setting when he’s present, but he’s kind of an unavoidable obstacle at this point. Pissed doesn’t begin to cover your feelings towards him and hurt doesn’t quite do it either. You’re angry about the things he did, the things he said, the way he covered up his true self, but most of all, you’re furious that your feelings didn’t just evaporate with the shift in his persona.

You thought time would heal everything, but so far it’s only turned you bitter about the whole thing. He still smells so fucking good. He’s still got a body like the weightlifting champ he is. He’s still dorky and funny in ways you wouldn’t expect a tool of his calibre to demonstrate. But he’s also a player and a crass asshole. A crasshole. Has he ever stayed with the same girl for more than a few days? You’d wager a confident sum of money that he never has.

Even though you hate his guts, your brain still finds ways to remind you that even if he’s a dick, he’s a dick you’re still attracted to. He’s the kind of dick you suck one night after getting drunk on cheap beer, and in the light of day you are disgusted with everything about it. So don’t get drunk and don’t suck that dick. Easy peasy, especially since fury overtakes you any time you look at him.

Pissed at him? That doesn’t cover it. Pissed at yourself? That’s closer, but it's still not quite all-encompassing. It’s some sort of culmination between the two that has you absolutely livid with the entire situation any time you think about it. He made you feel like a fool. You genuinely liked the person you thought he was, and he embarrassed you. That made not talking to him the way you did when you thought he had the emotional capacity of an actual decent human being hurt even more. At least you know now that he’s got more in common with a lifeless, unfeeling rock.

Not that he hasn’t tried to get you to talk to him. He has, texting you jokes, sending articles on upcoming game titles, spamming invites to a party on xbox live any time you log on, making a point to stand next to you, interrupting all of your conversations with an obnoxious “Hi, Princess!” and pestering you until you acknowledge him. Thankfully Namjoon has kept him from sitting next to you when you carpool, whether it be for dancing, dinner, karaoke, or any other external hangouts. Nevertheless, he still finds a way to annoy you despite the barriers in his path, and you are ready to claw his eyes out at a moment’s notice.

To keep your mind off how your last crush, well, crushed you and continues to let you down, you’ve been downloading and trying out a few different dating apps. You figure it’s time to find someone to connect with, and this is definitely how people do it these days, but your experience has been less than stellar. Jennie helped you set up your profiles and mentioned it in passing to Namjoon, mistakenly believing you told your other bestie about it. He's been teasing you about it every week since, but has been sworn to silence around the others under fear of you telling everyone about the time you caught him making out with a couch pillow.

He doesn't crash on your couch anymore.

Ever since Hoseok and Yoongi moved into the apartment down the hall, he's spent more evenings on their comfy sectional than you can count, but always after binging Kung Fu movies and bringing gratuitous amounts of takeout over your place. You’re grateful for the solitude so you can attempt to converse with strangers via text — maybe even flirt a little. Most of your conversations have become stagnant, but there’s been one guy texting you back and forth for a month now. You’re waiting on him to ask you out since you’re too much of a chickenshit to make the first move.

Now, as you walk down the hall with Namjoon, he elbows your ribs. “So... how’s your Jay-Jay?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Jason is fine.”

“He text you this week?” he asks, stopping in front of the apartment door.

Kind of.

“Mm-hmm!” Your reply is overly enthusiastic and it makes him suspicious.

“Did you text him first?” he questions, pausing before his knuckles touch the door.

Yes. But only because I saw a meme I could use as an excuse to talk to him.

“No.” The tone is questionable so you shake your head violently, scoffing. “I told him I wanted to meet in person.”

“Good. Good. Either he responds or he doesn’t,” he surmises, as if what he said isn’t the most obvious thing in the world. He snakes his hand around the back of your neck, massaging his fingers in circles over muscles you didn’t realize you’d tensed up. “And either way, I’m 100% certain you’re way too good for him. So don’t worry about it so much, okay?”

He snickers when you cast your gaze at the floor with a shy smile. “Joonie… That’s really sweet of you to say. I... Thank you.”

He shrugs off the gratitude with a smirk, trying to not let it get to his head. It’s true and you need to hear it. He clears his throat and knocks, nervously glancing over at you with his other hand still working small circles into the back of your neck. You’ll figure out soon enough that he’s also buttering you up since Jungkook is definitely home tonight, contrary to your belief that he certainly would not be.

The door swings open and a very sweaty, very shirtless Jungkook stands with his leg propped against the door, showcasing every glistening muscle of his body in the dim light. He dons an innocent smile, spreading his stance to push the door open wider and making sure you get a good look at the muscles tensing in his thigh. Your eyes helplessly scan the sculpted lines of his stomach, even as he purposefully flexes to draw the tiniest gasp from your lips. Pert brown nipples threaten to steal your attention, but you drag your eyes to the ink splattered across his skin instead. The myriad of tattoos that line the right side of his body tell a story you don’t have time or desire to explore, and you hate the way that your brain notes the curl of black ink disappearing beneath the band of his shorts and reappearing across his thigh.

“Princess, you made it.” He clicks his tongue with a devilish smirk as he watches you look him up and down with your mouth hanging stupidly agape.

Feeling your fight or flight response kick in, Namjoon’s fingers clamp down hard on your neck to keep you from bolting.

“What is he doing here?” you hiss in your friend’s direction, too distracted to fight against his iron grip on your neck.

“I live here,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms. “What? Didn’t you come here to see me?”

The anger on your tongue short circuits the connection your mouth has with your brain. Your jaw snaps shut and you roll your eyes, mirroring his action by folding your arms across your chest.

Jungkook seems amused by your irritation, offering a small laugh. “Client canceled so I decided to do a little exercise at home. Problem?”

He lets his hands drop to his sides, knowingly hooking his thumbs beneath the band of his shorts. Your eyebrow twitches and your jaw tightens. He knows the effect he has on women. He knows the effect he has on you. You’re determined to deny him the satisfaction so you simply stare him down. Douche.

Namjoon forces a dimpled smile to cut the tension. “So... I brought jenga! Do I smell pizza?”

You attempt to push past Jungkook, but he makes sure to bump a sweaty shoulder into you. “I’ve gotta shower. Wanna join?”

If you roll your eyes any harder, you might sever your optic nerve. “Don’t touch me.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Somehow you’ve been stuck with the worst jenga player in the world as your teammate. Namjoon may be a good friend and smart as fuck, but he is terrible at anything requiring coordination. He’s been the only one to knock the tower over. Four times now. That’s four times you’ve had to drink the disgusting gin offered in the form of a shot by Seokjin.

“I think I’ll sit this one out,” you declare, wiping the taste of evergreen trees from your mouth as you set the empty shot glass back down. “Jin, jump in for me?”

You sit back in your chair and pulling out your phone to check your messages.The man grimaces at your request. “Do I have to? The odds seem stacked against me. I can only compensate so much, you know.”

Hoseok and Yoongi snicker into their beers and Jimin laughs out loud as he reaches into the communal bowl of popcorn possessively wedged between his teammate and himself.

“I think these teams are very fair,” Taehyung says, licking the salt from his fingers as he sets the last of the blocks back into position.

“I feel like my luck is changing. Different teammate, different energy, come on,” Namjoon assures him, making the first move.

The block slides out without issue and he drops it on top of the tower with a grin. Hoseok hums a thoughtful sound as he pushes a middle block with the tip of his pointer until it falls onto the other side of the table.

“I’m not sure you’re paying enough attention to be the referee,” Jin pouts.

“Are you really so mad that she’s not looking at you?” Jimin teases with a giggle while making his move. “This is one game where you can’t use your face as a bargaining chip, Jin. It’s all skill.”

The older man scoffs, rolling his eyes as he takes a side block and wagging it in your direction. “How will you know if someone cheats if you’re looking at your phone the whole time, hmm?”

“I’ll know,” you mutter, not bothering to look up. “Besides. How do you cheat at jenga? You knock the tower over or you don’t. Team that knocks the tower over does the shots. Those are pretty simple rules.”

Seokjin grumbles something unintelligible underneath his breath in response. You ignore him as you reach for your bottle of spiked root beer, trying to figure out some clever joke that might impress Jason enough to respond to you. You rack your brain, furrowing your brow in contemplation as you stare at the blinking cursor and take a big swig.

Out of the corner of your eye you catch the flash of white and subconsciously spare a glance up. Your stomach flips like it’s trying to win a gymnastics competition and you wish you could press undo on the double take your eyes have just performed without prompt. Maybe he didn’t notice.

Jungkook pauses in the hall, adjusting the white cotton towel around his waist. He’s grinning at you like the cat that ate the canary as he slowly drags his fingers over the edges of the fabric, peeling it from its resting place on his hips. Of course he fucking noticed.

You force your eyes back to the safety of your phone screen just in time, barely missing the flash of his glossy ink-covered skin. When he realizes you’re not watching the show he’s putting on, he fastens the towel around his waist and walks into the light of the den. You swallow, feeling his eyes rake over your form as he passes the table with a loud sigh.

“All clean,” he announces in a singsong voice as he continues towards the kitchen.

You hate the way your jaw threatens to betray you by attempting to drop at the sight of the rippled muscles carved into his upper back and the thick line creased into the meat of his spine. Even with the broad artistic strokes of color swathed across his back in the shape of a phoenix spreading its red-orange wings wide, you can still see the definition of his form chiseled beneath it. You try not to lose yourself in the flawless details painted into his flesh and grind your teeth to keep your jaw wired shut.

Wet, tangled locks of hair fall into his face as he reaches into the refrigerator. When he stands up straight, he arches his back to stretch his chest towards the ceiling. He’s got a tiny jug of banana milk in his palm and he’s working on chugging it down.

He pauses and licks remnants of the cloudy liquid from his lips. “Thirsty. Relatable, right, Y/N?”

You scowl, tapping furiously on your keyboard. “Put some fucking clothes on.”

Jungkook throws his hands in the air in defeat as he casually wanders out of the room. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”

Your eyes settle on the tower. Minutes pass and still it hasn’t fallen. Turn after turn around the table, the game has gone on far longer than anticipated. Namjoon is determined to not lose this time; it’s actually kind of impressive how careful he’s been. You’ve almost forgotten about Jungkook until he reappears, this time fully covered in black sweats and a long-sleeved shirt. The tension in the room is palpable. You’re afraid to even breathe in the direction of the wooden blocks precariously stacked on one another.

Hoseok is sweating as he prods the stack with his index finger, making a high-pitched whining sound as he tries to determine his next move. Jungkook wedges himself between Jin and Taehyung, forcing you to acknowledge his presence as he sits on the opposite side of the table and steals a fistful of popcorn.

After a few seconds, Hoseok sighs at Yoongi. “I give up. You do it. We’re a team. I’m gonna knock it over if you don’t,” he whines.

Yoongi rolls his eyes and quickly shoots his finger out at a random block. It flies across the table at Seokjin, causing him to dramatically duck out of the way just in time. The table erupts with laughter.

“Damn, that didn’t do it. I was hoping we could play cards now,” Yoongi mutters to himself.

“Hey, what are you doing? You almost hit me with that! You have to put that on top! Go get it!” Jin yells across the table, mind already heavily clouded with booze. At least he’s laughing so you know that heightened tone doesn’t indicate any serious animosity.

“It’s right next to you. Pick it up and give it to me,” Yoongi replies while leaning over the table, which causes the tower to immediately wobble. Hoseok dramatically gasps, bringing his hands to his mouth. Seokjin picks up the block and slides it across the surface as he gives you a pointed look.

"Isn't this cheating? Don't they forfeit since it was on Hobi’s turn?"

"They're technically a team.” You shrug.

"You are a terrible referee," he groans, rubbing his temple as Yoongi carelessly throws the piece on top.

Taehyung and Jimin fervently whisper to each other over their strategy before Taehyung reaches out for an easy-looking target. The slightest touch sends the blocks crashing down, causing the man to blink in disbelief.

“Time to drink up your handsome competitor. Gin served by Jin.” He snickers.

Jimin and Taehyung cringe as Jin slides two shot glasses full of the vile liquid towards them. They link elbows and tilt their heads back, downing the burning liquid in solidarity. Jimin seems unaffected while Taehyung’s face scrunches up and he coughs.

“It burns!” he sputters, clutching his chest. He walks into the kitchen, dragging his tongue across his palm as though it will remove the taste from his mouth.

“Thank god. I don’t think I could have stomached another,” Namjoon murmurs, rising to his feet. “Be right back.”

As soon as he heads off in the direction of the restroom, the others start cleaning up the mess of blocks scattered across the table and Yoongi begins shuffling a deck of cards. Jungkook takes the opportunity to slide into the empty seat beside you. You toss an annoyed glance his way in warning. “Can I help you, Jungkook?”

“You could if you weren’t so busy pretending like you don’t want to look at me.” His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek and he smiles innocently when you look up from your phone to glare daggers at him.

“You’re in Namjoon’s seat.”

He ignores your statement, peering over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of your phone screen. “Who are you texting? Is it your hot friend?”

“She doesn’t want to bang you, dude,” you tell him in a flat tone, flicking the power button to hide the message.

“Oh, just like you?” he asks, unable to hide the amusement striking his features.

After years of practicing this song and dance with other women, he’s grown accustomed to everyone wanting a piece of this cookie. There’s no way you’re immune, especially after his performance on the ocarina a few months ago. He charmed you before you could sink your teeth into his neck and do the same to him, and now you're mad about it. That’s your category, right? Your spite is obviously a cover for your disappointment.

Unless it isn’t. His conviction wavers as your jaw tightens and you take a swig from the dark bottle on the table. People don’t get close unless they want to get fucked. Literally. But you are Joon’s ‘friend’ and you seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him, at least for a little while. Most people are good at faking the first time, but it’s been a while and you’re still here. What if you’re actually hanging around his friends for all the right reasons? What if you had something other than shallow intentions? What if he actually hurt your feelings? He sinks back in his seat, silently stewing in his assumptions.

You set your phone face down on the table, a forced manic smile settling on Yoongi. “What are we playing?”

The man spreads the cards face down over the table in a circle, placing a single shot in the center. “It’s called the circle of death. There are a bunch of ways to play so I’m just gonna pick my favorites.”

He gets up, taking the magnetic whiteboard off the refrigerator and furiously scribbling notes on its surface. You crane your neck to get a good read, but it’s still fairly challenging to make out his chicken scratch.

“There’s a lot you can pick up after hours at bartending school. I had fun playing this with the other people in my class but it’ll probably be even better with you guys.”

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ  RULES:

A - Face

2 - You

3 - Me

4 - Floor

5 - Jive

6 - Forehead master

7 - Heaven

8 - Hate

9 - Rhyme

10 - Social

J - Never

Q - Eat

K - Rulemaker

Joker - Waterfall

Your eyebrows furrow at the words you can make out. “This seems complicated.”

Yoongi scoffs, setting the board on the counter and leaning it against the wall. “Trust me. It’s not as bad as it seems. Besides this will be right here in case you forget.”

“Does that say eat? Yoongi, what the fuck does that mean?” You tilt your head to the side and try to read the list in its entirety but still at a loss for what it means.

Hoseok scratches his head, equally as stumped by the list.

“I’ll go over the rules once everyone is back at the table. I have a feeling I’ll be repeating them enough once we start.”

You slump in your chair with a pout as you proceed to polish off your beverage. Namjoon returns and sees his spot has been taken.

"Kook," he warns, tapping his friend in the shoulder to try to get him to move over.

Namjoon isn't stupid in the slightest. He may lack common sense at times and he definitely is the clumsiest person in the room, but perception is his strength. What do you get when you add up the subtle glances, the nervous stutters, and shy smiles? Multiply that sum by the times you've tucked your hair behind your ear needlessly, gotten starry-eyed while talking, or claimed a seat nearby. Tallying your distracted behaviors yields a simple answer: a crush.

You don't have to say anything. You never have to say anything because you wear that shame so well. Even subtracting the stunt Jungkook pulled on Halloween and the distance you've put down since then, it's not enough to negate the total. You say you hate him, but those glances are still there. Pressing your lips tight to keep yourself from smiling has become your default defensive tactic. Playing with your hair quickly turns into tugging loose strands back into a ponytail. It’s almost painful to watch. He wonders if anyone else sees it for what it is because Jungkook sure doesn’t.

Staying out of it is tough because he knows both sides. But it’s not his place to spill the tea to either one of you. You’re both his friends and it’s hard not to feel like the mediator that he definitely doesn’t want to be. You’re adults. You can figure your shit out without him to take care of every little thing. Yeah, it would be easier just to do it all for you, but you’ll never learn that way and neither will he. However, that doesn’t mean he can’t drop some caution tape out every once in a while.

Jungkook digs his heels into the floor and huffs. “But I like this seat and you got up so it’s mine now.”

“Joonie, it’s fine.” You manage to keep the irritation out of your voice, talking over the man to your left like he’s not even there. “He’ll get bored eventually. Don’t feed the troll.”

Namjoon shakes his head and takes a seat on the opposite side of Jungkook, grumbling how you’re going to come crying to him later when Jungkook snaps your bra straps or some shit and his friend is gonna end up with a black eye but whatever not his problem. At least that’s the gist of what you get out of your friend’s griping. He may have a point, but you’re not going to acknowledge that. You’re busy looking at the plastic cup full of beer set down in front of you.

You crinkle your nose at Yoongi but he answers before you can ask. “Everyone is drinking the same thing. Even playing field. Not really fair if someone's got more alcohol in their drink."

You catch Taehyung's eyes across the table and mirror his disgusted expression, both of you sticking your tongue out at the liquid.

"Alright. There's only one rule you really need to be worried about in the beginning: my rule to keep you all from getting distracted. If you touch your phone, whoever catches you is allowed to send any message to any contact in it.”

Jungkook grins wickedly at you, noticing the way you drop your mobile device on the table and leave it where it lands face down. Yoongi goes over the rules one by one and gives an example of each being used. Everyone blinks at him stupidly once he gets to the Queen and delivers a deadpan explanation that whoever pulls that card has to eat it. None of you are drunk enough to believe him, so he scribbles the rule out on the whiteboard and writes a question mark instead. He sets the board back in place and continues with his explanation, looking at everyone expectantly.

He points at the board behind him, not bothering to look back at it. "This is here in case you forget what any of the cards mean, but we’ll go slow since there are eight of us.”

A full round around the table and you are all feeling pretty comfortable and giggly. Some of the more tame cards have made their way into the discard pile beside Yoongi.

Jin pulled an eight and made Tae drink until he said stop, which was hilarious and equally terrifying when you realized someone could do the same to you. Luckily the enemy beside you didn’t have the pleasure.

Taehyung pulls a King and tries to make a weird rule that any time a four is played and you’re all scrambling to the floor, the last one to touch the ground has to kiss the feet of the cardholder. When you collectively agree you are not doing that he huffs and makes a rule that for the rest of the game if you have to drink, you have to dirty talk your beer before taking a sip. This rule makes you determined not to lose any rounds.

Laughter erupts from the table when Yoongi calls his drink a filthy little slut before having to take a sip. Hobi is so thrilled when Yoongi pulls a five and starts dancing immediately after that he ended up cackling instead of focusing on the game. He’s less than thrilled about needing to drink after missing the opportunity to dance so he ends up glaring at his drink.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, you filthy bitch? You want me to put my hands around your throat, put my tongue on you and drink up? Alright then.” He coos a ridiculous sound at his cup and guffaws before taking a huge swig.

Jimin covers his eyes and laughs, downing the rest of his drink like it’s water without a thought of whether he was supposed to or not. He gets up to refill his cup as an excuse to hide the heat in his cheeks.

“Hobi’s upping the game. Woooooow.” Jin leans back in his chair, mouth agape with wonder before bursting into a squeaky laugh.

You gulp, hoping everyone is too distracted by their own laughter to notice the way your legs clamp together. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the actual. Fuck. Hobi. I gotta text Jennie. She’s not gonna believe this. No, don’t touch your phone. Don’t look at anyone. Just wait for your turn to pick a card.

Hobi pulls a three and has to drink again. “Ah. This slut wants more. Here we go, baby.”

You desperately scan the circle of facedown cards, a smile forcefully smattered on your features. You strain to reach the one you’re trying for. Hoseok slides it towards you with an innocent smile, as though those lips weren’t just spewing absolute filth. “I hope it’s a good one.”

Your eyes drop to the card as you flip it back on the table. Jack. You squint at the board, trying to figure out what “Never” means when Yoongi puts three fingers up.

“Alright, Y/N. This is Never Have I Ever. We all put our fingers up like this. You come up with something you’ve never done and say it out loud. If any of us have done those things,” he pauses and drops a finger so he only has two standing tall, “then we put them down. First one to have no fingers up has to drink.”

Oh no. What haven’t I done? What haven’t I done? The guys all expectantly wait for you to say something. You purse your lips as your mind blanks on every moment you’ve ever experienced.

“Never have I ever…” your mouth is dry. “I don’t know.”

Yoongi laughs. “Don’t think too hard. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy, but it does have to be true. It’s not fun otherwise. People have different goals. You can use it to learn or you can just try get as many people to drink as possible.”

Suddenly a lightbulb goes off in your head. They’re all men. “Never have I ever peed standing up.”

Everyone around the table puts a finger down. The mirth in Yoongi’s face becomes strained and his eyelids flutter as he sighs. “Careful. There are a lot of cards left and you’re about to make yourself a target.”

You press on anyway. “Never have I ever had sex with a woman.”

A few of them tut in annoyance as they’re all left with one finger up.

Jungkook pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek. “You’re not living your best life then.”

You furrow your brow while trying to think of another easy thing that could get them all to lose. Tapping your fingers on the table, you make an effort to focus on each one’s concentrated gaze. It comes to you and you filter your bottom lip through your teeth for a moment. Have they...? You’d bet they all have.

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you. “Come on, Princess. Just say whatever it is.”

“Never have I ever been to a strip club.”

There’s a collective sigh as their hands drop and they stare at their drinks. You grin like a maniac, taking in the garbled sounds of each one dirty-talking their drinks like it’s a goddamn orgy.

Jungkook looks over at you, making sure he has your attention as he offers an amused smile. “You really haven’t been to Wings?”

You’ve seen signs for that club, hating to admit the ads garnered intrigue. It’s split down the middle, supposedly one side angelic and the other hellish. “Nope. Drink up, Jungkook.”

He maintains eye contact with you, bringing his drink to his lips. “Maybe I can get you to come. Will you give me permission to taste you?” He tilts his head back and makes a show of closing his eyes and slowly slurping his beverage. You narrow your eyes at him before he puts the cup back down. “Delicious. My turn.”

He flips the card. “King. Ooh. My rule. Starting now, every time you say something you have to start with the word hashtag and end with dotcom.”

“Jungkook, that’s so stupid,” you say without thinking.

“Hashtag, drink up Princess, dotcom,” he replies with an impish grin.

You bite your lip and stare at your drink. How could you be so careless? They all lean in, waiting for the words to leave your mouth. You hold your hands up in a T-shape. “Hold up. Time out. Pause the game. I need some clarity. Do I have to say hashtag dotcom thing WHILE talking to my drink?”

Namjoon looses it, laughing like a maniac. “Hashtag, I think you fucking do Y/N dotcom.”

Jungkook just smiles, crossing his arms and waiting for you to continue. God, you fucking hate him. This is the dumbest rule you’ve ever heard. It’s going to get old fast. Still, you stare down at your cup. “Hashtag… Uh… I’m gonna... s-slurp your fluids out now, dotcom?”

Jungkook’s obnoxious laugh is piercing your eardrums as you down a few big gulps. The rest of the table roars with laughter and heat burns your cheeks, not daring to make eye contact with any one of them.

“W-What was that?!” Jin yells. “You sound like an alien! Can I give you some pointers, please?”

“Hashtag, Seokjin! You forgot dotcom!” Jungkook says, pointing to his friend’s cup.

Jin curses under his breath and stares at his cup. “Hashtag, this is how you do it, Y/N.” He focuses on his cup without missing a beat, raising it up to the sky longingly like he’s about to start serenading it. “You wish you could hear me say this every day, don’t you? You love how my mouth feels on you. I can tell by the way you’re dripping for me, my lovely. Dot. Com.” He makes a point to run his tongue along the rim of his cup and takes a sip.

Fuck these guys. But also… Fuck? These guys? You’re one dirty comment away from soaking your panties, but they don’t need to know that.

“Hashtag I’m sorry I’m not a slut like the rest of you. Also Seokjin, you’re a bitch, dotcom,” you grumble, gripping your knees to keep your hands off your phone. Jennie will absolutely scream once you tell her about this night. She’ll be sad she missed out.

Jin’s eyes go wide as though you smacked his ass in front of the world, a smile is taking over the corners of his mouth. “Hashtag, stop trying to flirt with me, dotcom.”

You roll your eyes but you can’t help the shy smile that creeps in. Jungkook sits up straight and sighs dramatically. “Hashtag let’s keep going so we can get the rest of this bread dotcom.”

Jimin pulls a king and has made the rule that hashtag dotcom is abolished. It comes as a relief when you’re a few more rounds in, and everyone has already consumed way more booze than expected because of Jungkook’s rule. An uneventful round of drinking passes before Seokjin pulls the last King out.

“A rule, hmm? Alright. When you ask someone to drink you have to hold their chin, stare longingly into their eyes, and ask them to drink.” He demonstrates, holding Taehyung’s jaw in his fingers. “Like this. Will you please drink for me, my dear friend, Taehyung?”

Tae bashfully giggles waving his hand away. “You’re too much sometimes. I think you need a girlfriend.”

Since it only applies for certain cards, you end up forgetting about it as multiple turns come and go without utilizing it. Your turn rises again and you slide the eight face up across the table. After kicking your chair with his feet for the millionth time, you completely forget about the rule Jin made and pick based on your irritation. Eight is hate indeed.

“Jungkook, go until I say stop.”

The words feel satisfying as they leave your mouth, but Namjoon grimaces, anxiously baring both sets of teeth.

“Uh… You gotta…” Namjoon taps his cheeks twice with his fingertips.

Horror replaces that smug satisfaction in the pit of your stomach and it churns a sickness deep inside that pit.

Jungkook cocks his head at you. “You really wanna put your hands on me that badly, huh?”

You exhale loudly and tightly grip his chin with sweaty, hot fingers. Your eyes threaten to burn holes into his. “Jungkook, go until I say stop.”

He’s stunned into silence for a second, adam’s apple bobbing ever so slightly. He blinks at you a couple times before regaining his composure. Who knew princesses can breathe fire? Grabbing his cup, he grins and chuckles an amused sound even as you’re tearing yourself from him.

“Don’t worry I can go all night when you taste so good, baby,” he says, tilting his head back as he drinks.

You keep an eye on his cup, watching the liquid slowly disappear. You have to be careful not to let him finish, but you kind of want him to suffer a little bit. Even though he drinks like a fish, he’s still not on Jimin’s level. This has to be affecting him somehow. He watches you through an annoyed side-eye when you don’t say a word, not allowed to stop until you say so or until he finishes his drink. Your phone chooses this exact moment to vibrate a long sound against the table and your concentrated gaze wanders for a second too long, allowing him to gulp down the remnants of his drink.

Jungkook slams his empty cup down in time for you to look back at him in horror before looking at your own full cup. The room fills with the sound of everyone “ooooh-ing” like this is the sixth grade. With a heavy sigh, you bring your cup to your lips.

“I was distracted. I would have said stop.”

Jungkook leans his elbow on the table and rests his head on a folded palm. His smile tells you he’s ready to dish it back. “Mmm-hmm. Go on. Oh… Wait.”

He sits up, cupping your jaw in his hands so lightly, like it could disintegrate at the slightest touch. He leans his head back slightly, soft eyes imploring you to move closer. He slides his fingers up your jawline, nestling them behind your ears like he’s about to draw you to his lips. “Will you be good and drink that for me until I ask you to stop?”

Jin scoffs. “Wow. Look at this guy.”

The others hold back their snickers. Your eyebrow twitches, smacking his hands away from you. Instead you focus on the cup in your sweaty palms.

“I can’t wait to feel you… dripping from my mouth,” you whisper to your cup, trying to redeem yourself for earlier and doing your best not to think about how fucking good it felt having Jungkook’s hands wrapped around the sides of your face. You don’t spare a look at any of them as you tilt your head back and start gulping the liquid down.

“Much better,” Yoongi says with a smirk, but you don’t hear him over the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Namjoon smacks his hand to his forehead. “Yeah... I’m gonna need you to dial it back just a bit. I still have to see you at work.”

Jin pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “Ah, maybe our Zelda isn’t so bad at this after all.”

Jimin, Taehyung and Hobi all have their elbows on the table, cheeks in their palms as they watch your throat make its swallowing motions. They simultaneously grunt differing words of affirmation. About three quarters through, Jungkook puts his hand on the bottom of your cup.

“Stop.”

Mercy? From Jungkook? You don’t believe it, but you’ve been struggling so you’re kind of grateful. Just as you’re about to put the cup down, he taps the bottom of it, forcing liquid to splash upwards onto your chin. You slap his hand away as he cackles and you wipe your lips.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.”

“What time, sweetheart?” He grins when you glare at him.

“Just pick your fucking card before I strangle you.”

“Kinky. You know, I might let you if you asked nicely.”

You get the pitcher of beer from the fridge and start refilling everyone’s cups. He pulls a card that has him whispering dirty words into the rim of his empty cup, holding it out for you to fill. At least most of the cards seem to be gone now. You hate to admit you’re feeling a bit dizzy and out of sorts, but you reason that it’s just a few more rounds, so maybe you just sip on water after this game is over.

Just as you get back to your seat, Namjoon throws a sheepish grin your way. “Joker.”

“There’s only one of these,” Yoonngi begins, looking around the room to make sure he has everyone’s attention. “Waterfall is when everyone starts drinking and you can’t stop until the person to your right stops. Namjoon can stop whenever he wants, but Jin has to wait until he’s done. Then Taehyung waits until Jin is done. Make sense?”

Normally the waterfall card is played in the opposite direction, but there’s so much tension between you and Jungkook tonight and he’s so used to his friend getting his way with women that he can’t help wanting to give you the edge on him. Everyone nods. The realization dawns on everyone that before this can happen, they all have to do two things per the rules.

One after another the guys ask the person to their left to drink while gripping their chins. It would be a fairly intimate scene if people weren’t giggling every three seconds. Still, your heart damn near skips a beat when Hobi’s slender fingers curl under your jaw, drunkenly pulling you closer to his face than you’ve ever dared to get. Heat builds in your stomach and travels up your chest, spreading across your back and prickling your neck. You hope it doesn’t move into your cheeks.

“You gonna take this drink, Y/N?” he aks, unable to hold the giggles in as he wags your head back and forth in his steady hands.

Oh… He’s fucking gone, isn’t he? “For you? Maybe,” you flirt, rubbing your shoulder against his as you turn away.

Jungkook sits up straight, muscles tensing as you twist your body towards him. Suddenly, he looks a lot bigger than you remember. Is he puffing out his chest? You wilt under his irritated stare but are determined not to let it show. You slip your fingers underneath his chin, just barely registering the stubble there. Your slow blink hides the flutter of your eyelashes, alcohol clouding your brain with desire. But damn if the room isn’t still spinning. He flashes you boyish grin when you clap your palm to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Yes?”

“Drink up, buttercup,” you giggle, pinching your fingers closed beneath his jaw.

A choked laugh escapes him. “You should sit this one out. At this rate, you’ll be passed out with your face on the toilet seat in an hour.”

You spin back to your drink with fury in your eyes; if there’s anything you hate more than Jungkook, it’s being told what to do. Especially by Jungkook. I’ll show you, asshole.

Everyone turns to their cups and mutters a few dirty words before Namjoon begins the circle of drinking. One by one the cups come down, everyone seemingly grateful for the person before them showing at least some kind of mercy. You slow your gulping when you realize Jimin is dragging it out in an attempt to annoy Yoongi. Both of them still seem surprisingly sober for the amount they’ve ingested. Maybe they don’t wear their intoxication as easily as the rest of you. Hobi exchanges a worried glance at you, trying to not let it slip that he’s only pretending to down his beverage, but you can tell by the steady level of the liquid in his cup that he’s pretty much ready to tap out.

As soon as Jimin finally pulls his cup back from his lips, Yoongi stops, immediately followed by Hobi. Yoongi is keenly aware of his roommate’s inability to hold down liquor in large quantities. He doesn’t fare much better with beer. Saving his friend means you can be saved too. He looks at you, raising his eyebrows in warning. You spare a fleeting glance in his direction, but it’s long enough to catch his message loud and clear: Don’t be an idiot, Y/N. Don’t go overboard.

But you turn your attention to Jungkook, who is still effortlessly allowing his beverage to slither down his throat. You gulp in segments, a commendable attempt to keep yourself going. Even for all your efforts, booze spills from the corners of your mouth and leaves cold sloppy trails down your neck as you watch Jungkook. He’s not even struggling. Fuck. You finally give up, allowing the cup to smack down on the table with a messy splash.

He keeps going just to spite you, polishing off his drink with a smack of his lips and a satisfied sigh. He rises from his seat, patting your shoulder as he gets himself more to consume. “It’s cute how hard you tried.”

The final round passes and you are ready to strangle Jungkook for the way he keeps knocking his knees against yours. It’s gotten to the point where you’ve moved your chair so close to Hobi’s that he’s put his arm around you, thinking you are just as sleepy as he is. Truth be told you kind of are. The room is a little too spinny for your liking, but you can’t seem to persuade your brain to make your legs get up and get yourself a glass of water.

“You want to nap too?” he whispers, rubbing the eyes he can hardly keep open. “Come here. Let’s sleep together.”

The innocent words make your stomach spin in place but you don’t have time to ruminate on them. Jungkook hooks his ankle around your chair and jerks it back towards him. Furious eyes flicker on him in warning just as Hobi’s cheek slumps over your shoulder and draws your attention away. Luckily Yoongi springs into action to keep his friend from falling any further into your personal space than he already has.

“Okay, Hobi. We get it. You need to sleep,” he chuckles, cradling his friend’s arm around his shoulder as he helps him to his feet.

Hoseok weakly grumbles a sound of acknowledgement as they shuffle down the hall into what you assume is a guest room. Their apartment is bigger than any you’ve seen so you find yourself wondering just how many guest rooms they could possibly have. Then you remind yourself that it doesn’t matter because you are definitely not staying because getting an uber is always an option.

When Yoongi returns alone, people have started migrating into the living room. Jungkook and Jin are still seated, heatedly talking about some game nearby, but you’ve elected to ignore them in favor of checking your messages. Jason has sent you a few messages that have piqued your interest, including one finally asking you on a date. Does ignoring guys really fucking work? Was Namjoon right about something in his life? You don’t want to believe it.

The words in Jason’s message blur together, despite how hard you’re concentrating on them. You’d told him you were out with friends. He must have known you’d be relatively unavailable so maybe it’s okay that you’re in no shape to formulate a coherent response. Still you stare at the keyboard, jumping when an arm reaches over you to place a glass of water on the table for you.

You blink a few times at Yoongi, who simply whispers a gruff “drink” before grabbing the shot left in the center of the table and downing it as he joins the majority of his friends in the other room. Jungkook looks over at you, eyes dropping to your open conversation when you absentmindedly set your phone down. You take the cold glass in both hands and narrow your eyes in Yoongi’s direction as you swallow down a good portion of the liquid.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

It’s been an hour and if you’re honest you’ve just barely teetered back into the moderately drunk category. Yoongi had offered to take you home when he was getting ready to leave since he was already chauffeuring Namjoon. At the time you declined because you were certain that your natural predisposition to motion sickness would be amplified by the liquor in your system. You didn’t want to make Yoongi’s new car smell like puke. Namjoon has this habit of texting when he’s worried. Even after he left you’d been going back and forth about the night. Honestly it’s kind of helping keep you from passing out and you’re reminded how grateful you are for his friendship.

Sitting on the couch next to Jimin may have also influenced your decision since the man literally smells how vacations feel — and god do you need to relax. He’s also acted as a barrier between you and Jungkook, who has his legs stretched out across the cushions to Jimin’s right. Jungkook has been engrossed in his phone since you left the table, opting out of switching off with Taehyung when he dies in-game. You’re kind of thankful for it. Maybe he’s finally settled down for the night. Does he get more polite with drowsiness?

Jimin smiles softly at you, his arms draped over the back of the couch. The pair of you have been quietly conversing and giggling over the platformer Seokjin and Taehyung have been playing. Jimin’s face still looks a little flush with alcohol, but he only just finished his last beverage for the night. How the hell can someone so tiny pack away so much liquor? You hold in a shiver as his fingertips playfully dance along your shoulder, trying not to let on how the action affects you. His harmless flirting only bolsters confidence hiding in the depths of your mind and you stretch your arms up with a yawn and lean against him, knowingly giving him a better view of the cleavage poking out from beneath the v-cut of your shirt.

Jimin allows a devilish smile to curl at his lips as his fingers walk down your arm. He puts both hands back on the couch, like you’d made the move unprompted by his touching. “Hmm. You’re pretty bold, aren’t you?” His whisper is low and breathy, so quiet you almost miss it. What a tease.

“Hey. Jimin. Come here.”

The unusually quiet Jungkook knocks his foot against his friends knee, which pushes Jimin’s thigh up against yours. You softly sigh at the contact and the subsequent loss when Jungkook sits up and Jimin apologetically scoots away. You plant an elbow on the armrest beside you and prop your cheek up on your palm. Seokjin is carrying Taehyung through this level it seems.

“Do you think I should tap that?” The words are loud enough to distract you so you can’t help but turn your head in their direction.

“I think she might be out of your league,” Jimin giggles. “Besides she’s older than you. I thought that bothered you?”

“Oh. No way. I love it. When they have more experience I don’t have to work as hard,” he replies with a lofty sigh.

“Are you sure about that in this case? You’re very presumptuous.”

Your blood heats up the back of your neck. Why are men so disgusting? You grit your teeth, unable to hold in the sound of disgust that makes its way through them.

Jungkook’s head snaps up and he locks eyes with you. There’s something smug about his expression, like he’s stupidly proud of pulling that reaction from you. “Aw, are you feeling left out, princess? Here, see for yourself. Don’t you think she’s pretty?”

When he flips his screen around your own profile is staring back at you. Straightening your spine and reaching across Jimin’s lap for him, you hiss, “Jungkook, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Why?” He tilts his head to one side, feigning confusion and looks at the profile again. “I think she’s pretty hot.”

“If you match with me, I will not swipe right on you. You know that, right? So this whole thing is pointless,” you reason, more for yourself than the two men beside you. “You’re not gonna get to me. It’s not gonna fucking work, Jungkook.”

Jimin’s shoulders tremble with soft, mellifluous laughter that spills from his lips as he takes in the exchange. It’s apparent that Jungkook has already gotten under your skin. Denying it is only making you angrier.

“Fine. Fine. It’s gone now, see,” Jungkook says, briefly flashing you the home screen of his phone before putting it away. The image of that big tiddy anime girl behind all those icons is going to haunt your dreams; you can feel it.

You get up to get yourself more water. “I hate you so much.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

It’s late. Seokjin left a few minutes ago and Jimin rubs his eyes, unsure what to do. The selfish part of his brain tells him he should claim the other guest room. The horny part of his brain tells him he should suggest you share with him. The exhausted part of his brain tells him to just pass out in Taehyung’s bed and let him figure it out.

“You’re welcome to stay, too. We have room for you,” Taehyung says with a kind smile. “There’s another guest room.”

You still don’t feel well enough to drive or sit in a cab. You sit with your hands folded in your lap, pondering your shitty life choices. You’ve become pretty good friends, but a sleepover seems a bit strange without your bestie Namjoon to buffer out all of the awkward moments.

You smile as sweetly as you can manage, your voice small and borderline whiny in its need for sleep. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I don’t want to be a bother. Thank you, Taehyung.”

The man rolls his eyes. “I won’t allow you to sleep on a couch when we have beds.”

“Your couch is comfier than my actual bed,” you joke, patting the plush cushions on either side of you.

Jungkook walks in, shirtless and scrubbing a toothbrush furiously in his mouth. He tries to speak but it’s unintelligible, so he turns back around to finish up.

“It’s really okay. I should stay up and finish my water anyway and I don’t want to keep you guys up. I drank a little too much.”

“No shit,” Jungkook sighs as he rounds the corner and leans against the wall. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay up with you, Princess.”

Taehyung flashes his friend a pointed look and opens his mouth to speak, but closes it when Jungkook continues.

“You guys go on. I’ll make sure she drinks up her water and gets to bed.”

You glare at him as Taehyung moves in to whisper something to him, but you lose focus as Jimin pulls you into a tight hug that you can’t help but return.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he mumbles into the fabric of your hoodie. “I’m glad you’re a part of our family.”

You squeeze his shoulder before he shuffles down the hall and disappears into the bathroom. “Goodnight, Y/N!”

Taehyung offers a boxy smile and a small wave, demeanor changed after his side conversation with Jungkook. “Don’t take off without having breakfast. Seokjin will come back and make something tasty. Also I put your keys in my studio so good luck finding them if you try.”

You half laugh, half scoff. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. ‘Night.”

“Goodnight,” he says, passing Jungkook a tight lipped smile on his way down the hall.

Jungkook waits until he hears the door close before he speaks and for the first time since you met him, his tone borderlines concerned. “Be honest with me. How sick are you right now?”

Your throat swallows down a thick mass of air. “I’m fine.”

“Tch. Okay, Princess,” he scoffs in disbelief, taking slow steps towards you with his hands buried in the pockets of his black sweatpants. “Do you need a bucket?”

“No.” You drink down your water, trying to focus on anything but the way your body is producing enough sweat to make you want to discard your hoodie as soon as he leaves you alone.

A door opens down the hall and Jimin shuffles out before disappearing into another room. The quiet click of the door closing causes Jungkook to sigh. 

Spinning. The room is spinning again. You hold the cold glass in your hands like it’s your lifeline, shut your eyes and throw your head back to rest it against the couch. You don’t notice when he leaves, but you definitely notice the cold cloth pressed to your forehead when he returns.

“Do you want comfier clothes?” he quietly asks, voice bereft of any humor as he sinks into the cushion beside you.

You open your eyes and glare at him like this is some prank he’s playing on you but you’re not sure how. “No.”

He rolls his eyes. “Suit yourself. I get hella hot when I’m drunk off my ass. Figured I’d ask.”

“I’m not...” you begin, trying to bring your head to rise. It feels heavy and plops back down on the seat.

“You’re drunk,” he states plainly. “And miserable. So drink up the rest of the water and I’ll show you to the guest room. It’ll be embarrassing if any of my friends wake up to you looking so pathetic. Come on.”

He helps you bring the cup to your lips and tilts your head forward enough to safely consume the rest of the water in your glass.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“If you think this is what nice guys are like, I feel bad for you.” He puts the glass down in the kitchen sink, briefly rinsing it.

“Jungkook,” you whine, an exasperated sigh passing your lips with his name.

“What? Your judgement of character is way outta whack. It’s just sad,” he explains, crossing the room while rubbing fresh lotion up his arms. Washing dishes makes his skin feel itchy.

“Alright. Come on. Up.” He waves his arms lets them weakly smack his thighs when you don’t move.

A whiff of sweet peaches and soft jasmine pervades your nostrils. Why does he have to smell so fucking good? He removes the cool cloth from your forehead, earning a whine from you.

“You’ll get a new one when you get in bed. I can carry you, if that’s easier.”

“Tell me why you’re doing this. I don’t get it. What do you want?”

“I want to go to sleep so I can be lazy tomorrow and do nothing but play video games.” When you don’t budge he sighs and sits down beside you again. “And... because... you’re Namjoon’s friend and he asked us to look out for you... And now you’re all of my friends’ friend… And I guess that makes you my responsibility.”

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t expecting you to just decide you’re gonna be nice out of the blue,” you weakly smirk and let your head roll to the side so you can look at him. “Should have known it was Namjoon.

He hums an amused sound. “Yeah. Now are you going to let me get you in bed?”

You’re able to force your head up at that. “I can get myself in bed just fine thanks.”

He laughs. “Your loss.”

You stand on unsteady legs. “Where am I going?”

Jungkook grins, entertained by your lack of coordination. “That’s a good question. Where are you going, Princess?”

You stumble a bit, reaching out to steady yourself with a wall that is definitely too far to grab. Long, tattooed fingers grip your shoulders in an instant. The heat of his massive chest presses against your shoulder blades. Even through your layers of clothing you can feel how hot his skin burns and it makes you shiver, despite the way you’re soaked with sweat.

“Don’t make me ask you for help,” you plead. “Please don’t.”

“Do you want me to pretend like you didn’t beg for it, too?” he whispers, curling a muscular bicep around your back and guiding you down the hall. As he passes the thermostat, he makes a point to lower the temperature a few degrees. Jimin, Hobi, and Tae will survive. But then again, he’s not worried about them at all, is he?

“Haven’t you embarrassed me enough?” You voice cracks and you’re barely managing to hold back the tears threatening to spill out.

He doesn’t say a word as you cling to the strength of his body, looping your arms around his neck and waist as though he isn’t the last person in the world you want to tangle yourself in. He pushes the door to his room open with his shoulder, making sure you get across the threshold okay before helping you awkwardly waddle over to the unmade bed. You don’t seem to notice, and if you do, you definitely don’t comment.

Your hoodie is falling from your shoulders as you climb onto the mattress. Jungkook grabs the fabric and slings it over his shoulder. You’ve landed at a weird angle across the pillows and show no signs of correcting your position so he moves the pillows beneath your head to comfortably accommodate you. You slowly blink at him, but you’re not seeing him. Silent tears rolling down your cheeks as he grabs the thinnest sheet on his bed and pulls it over your form up to your shoulders. He chooses to ignore the way you quickly swipe them away and instead goes to get the cold towel he promised.

Standing in the sink with ice cold water running over the cloth in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into the air around him, knowing no one will ever hear it.

When he returns he waits a moment, looking for the steady rise and fall of your chest. He smooths the hair from your face before pressing the cold cloth against your sweaty forehead, turning your head to the side just in case your body decides it isn’t quite ready to rest. He lightly pats your head a couple times and leaves the room, delicately closing the door behind him.

As he makes the journey back to the couch, he feeds his arms through the sleeves of your hoodie. He settles down on the couch, feeling the warmth of the space you’d been occupying all night beneath his head. Pulling down the blanket from atop the back of the couch, he brings his knees to his chest. He bunches the soft, excess material of your hoodie in his palms and turns his head into the fabric, allowing himself a subtle inhale.

Why do you have to smell so fucking good?

[leerongrong]

of princesses and amortentia.

Pairing: Lee Jeno x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: In which you’re Slytherin’s princess and you get paired up with Gryffindor’s golden boy, Lee Jeno, for potions class. [Hogwarts AU]

Requested: yes!! Can I ask for a promt pleasee. 2. 2. 2/5/19/38 The boy is up for your choice, thank you ♥️♥️ 

Note: @neoculturalshit​ i stressed over this for 2 days ahgshash. i present to you, for her highness’ late birthday gift ♡ also yes, this time both nana and hyuck make an appearance,, dont drag me for it😤

Cracking fire with mixed in enchantment spells are the main sounds coming from the common room while hallways are silent, littered with nothing but the sounds of Madam Filtch’s meowing cat. The courtyard is filled to the brim with spectators from all houses, suspense in the air as two houses battle against each other for victory.

Slytherin is up against Gryffindor today. The final match of the season being the spectacle for other students to watch, rooting for their houses and making bets on who would win while you’re prancing in the Slytherin chamber, hands wrapped so tightly around your wand it would break. Your brother, Jaemin, is slumped on the couch, eyes following you with a smirk painted on his lips. He’s in nothing but his common clothes, having ditched all his classes for the day in favor of “very important work,” which so happens to be sleeping on the couch while listening to the venomous words dripping down your lips.

”Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck this shit. Fuck.”

“Ooh, careful princess.” Jaemin’s words are playfully sweet in contrast to the deep voice he has, the thing that has all of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors alike down on their knees for him, his infamous charms even rivaling that of his parseltongue. “You’re going to put me and our great, great, great grandpa Salazar Slytherin to shame.”

“Besides,“ Jaemin fake pouts, “Shouldn’t princesses be sweet, charming and dignified? I expect the same from Slytherin’s own princess.”

Spells come flying out from your wands onto each other, harmless enough to not put you into too much trouble yet scorching when one hits the skin. The screams from outside are hard to ignore and one rattles your concentration, a rogue spell barreling towards Jaemin, one which he happens to avoid just in time for it to only burn of a bit of his hair. Fireworks go off in the air as you turn your head to see Gryffindor’s star quidditch player, Lee Jeno, with a Golden Snitch in his hand.

“You should’ve played.“ You scoff at Jaemin when you see the boy with a mischievous smile on his face, hands flying to the back of his head, a satisfying smack coming from it when your palm lands on its target. “We would’ve won if Slytherin’s ‘star player’ had played.”

Your eyes are back on the field, teeth clenching when you catch sight of Jeno, the boy smiling and being tossed into the air by his team while they celebrate a win. Lee Jeno is Gryffindor’s golden boy, a direct descendant from one of the most brilliant wizards of the time, Godric Gryffindor. You’ve never met the boy in person but from the start of the school year, people have put you and his friend circles against each other, causing a natural brewing competitiveness and although you’d never say it out loud, you wondered what it would be like to be friends with them.

Lee Jeno’s circle of friends are those of an odd pack; with Mark lee, the naturally clumsy but brave senior. Huang Renjun, the hot headed and fire spitting dragon trainer and Park Jisung, the shy but incredibly talented quidditch junior who’s expected to take over for Jeno. Then comes Lee Jeno himself, excelling at charms, potions, ancient runes, and especially, quidditch. Talents clear as day as he does have Gryffindor’s blood running in his veins.

Then there’s you and Jaemin. Slytherin’s prince and princess, named after your ancestor and for the blood that is running in your veins. All your life, you’ve been branded as special and different, your parents strictly raising you both to be valued heirs of your family, something you nor Jaemin wanted. Even from the start of your year, the two of you had been famous, other Slytherins coming to tag for a spot in your circle, until Lee Donghyuck came in. Cunning, Quick witted, Resourceful and very talented in Dark Arts, the epitome of what a Slytherin truly is.

“You good for nothing, always looking for trouble- Na Jaemin!”

The roaring crowds from outside fades into the background when the room’s gigantic double gates burst open to reveal a steaming Donghyuck with his hands still wrapped around his broomstick, a sign he came running over after the game finished.

“What’s up, pal?” Jaemin’s hands are raised in mock defeat the moment Donghyuck grabs him by his collar, a scream pulled out of his throat when Donghyuck raises his broomstick and whacks Jaemin’s head with it. It’s always a pleasure to watch the two quarrel, something that always brings a smile to your face ever since the two first met. The bond the three of you have is unique, something you didn’t think you’d find in Hogwarts.

“You have the emotional capacity of a brick!” Donghyuck is sheeting, his normally tidy uniform is a wreck and his hair looks windswept from his previous game. “I told you to be there for the game! And what do you do? Laze around in the common room instead?”

“Hyuckie, I need you to calm down.” You’re smiling as you see him take deep breaths, joining in with him to shake off your own ongoing nerves. “That’s much better.”

The moment the words leave your lips, Donghyuck is smiling back at you, pulling in to give you a hug. Somewhere behind you a gagging is heard and you’re rolling your eyes, hands grabbing at the broomstick still in Donghyuck’s hand and swinging it at Jaemin’s head, glaring when he ducks from the blow.

“Is there a reason my favorite set of siblings didn’t come to watch me play?”

Donghyuck is swinging his feet over the couch, planting himself in the corner whilst Jaemin sits down at the other side of the couch, creating a space in the middle just enough for you to fit in between the two. “Did you have another date with that Hufflepuff girl, Jaems?”

“She was cute, “ Jaemin shrugs, “But I think I would rather eat expired spam.”

“Ha!” You’re halfway to sitting down when Donghyuck raises a finger to point at Jaemin, successfully hitting your cheek in the process of it. The glare you send does nothing to him, the boy throwing an arm around your shoulder while still focused on humiliating your brother, “Suck on that! You aren’t as attractive as you thought, huh?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jaemin’s waving his hand in the air for a moment, before he’s pointing his finger at you, redirecting all of Donghyuck’s attention onto you. “Besides, you should be more interested in our own princess’ date.”

“A date, as in where two people get together to get to know each other, to see if they’re compatible?” Donghyuck frowns, “Since when have you been interested in boys?”

“Jaemin,” You groan, “Partnering up with Jeno for potions isn’t a date.”

“Jeno? As in Lee Jeno!?” Donghyuck’s scream catches the attention of multiple people coming into the room after watching the match, some looking at you peculiarly while others don’t even spare a glance. It hasn’t even reached midday and you’re already tired from all the drama your two friends are causing, wishing the day would come to an end soon.

“The professor just wanted us to pair up because we’re the only ones who could rival each other.” You glare at Jaemin. “Not because he wants us to go on a date.”

Hushed whispers cut off the flow of conversation, some students cocking their heads to the door while you could feel the other bunch have their eyes on you. Both Jaemin and Donghyuck are craning their necks over multiple heads and Donghyuck’s the first one to come back to his original position, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face which is duplicated by Jaemin. “Well princess, I think it’s time to leave. Your prince charming has arrived.”

A Gryffindor peeking his head into the Slytherin common room isn’t a usual sight to see and you, yourself wouldn’t believe it if you weren’t seeing it with your own eyes, especially if said Gryffindor in question is golden boy, Lee Jeno himself. You’re watching with peek curiosity as Jeno peeks inside the room, his eyes darting everywhere as if he’s searching for someone. You have to admit that it would take bravery only a Gryffindor possesses, after all it would scare the living daylights out of anyone else but him.

His eyes narrow in on you and you’re checking if he’s staring at anyone else until a smile pops on his face and he’s screaming your name for everyone to hear. Gasps and murmurs break out but are silenced, not even seconds later, when Donghyuck lets out a laugh, his voice echoing through the otherwise silent room. Your brother nods his head to Jeno’s direction, a smirk resting on his face as you get up to meet Jeno. The fast steps you take are enough to reach him in a few seconds and the ongoing watchers disappear with a look from you, leaving you and Jeno with some privacy, except from your brother and friend.

“Lee Jeno, what a surprise.” You force out a smile, “A pleasure to see you, of course. But may I ask, what in Slytherin’s name are you doing here?”

Your nose scrunches when Jeno lifts his hand to scratch at the back of his neck. Lee Jeno smells of sweat, grass and a little bit of catnip, something you find odd since for all the years you’ve been in Hogwarts, you’ve never seen catnip grow anywhere near. Lee Jeno is everything you’ve heard of him to be; muscular, tall and looks as if he belongs on the field.

‘I never knew he would be this cute up close.’

A head shake dissipates all your thoughts, choosing to focus solely on the boy in front of you, who seems to be in a world of his own. Patience is not something you have, annoyance starting to bite at the back of your neck like a three headed snake. “Well?”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry.” Jeno’s ears are painted with a shade of red, cheeks in a similar condition. “I thought we could revise a bit before potions. Since the professor has high expectations on us and all.”

You’re pondering for a moment, listing off all the things you needed to do by tonight, ears pricking up when the sound of Jaemin’s laughter fills the room behind you. You decide that as much as you would enjoy working on ancient runes with Jaemin, you’d enjoy working on poyions a little bit more.

“Sure,” You nodded, “Lead the way.”

­-

“So are you sure we can use this place?” Jeno’s pace is a bit too quick for you to handle, forcing you to take bigger and quicker steps so that you’re walking side by side with each other. In the short amount of time you walked with Jeno, you realized he’s not one to speak. He prefers to keep quiet and let you do all the talking, he spews out a few questions here and there to keep the conversation going, and you suppose it’s a good difference than when you’re with Donghyuck and Jaemin.

“Yes, I asked professor Slughorn beforehand if you’re worried.”

The air is silent for a while, both you and Jeno hard at work on collecting the few necessities for your potion, with Jeno grabbing the books by the professor’s desk and you collecting the herbs to brew. The potions room is nothing special, decked out with chairs and tables in the middle for students to experiment on, a brewing pot stacked on each and every one of those desks. “So what’re we making?”

“Amortentia.” Jeno looks almost different in the dim light, almost as if he’s a different person than the one you’ve seen all these years. The way his arm moves as he’s stirring the potion, the way he’s squinting his eyes as if the potion would disappear if he looked away. You almost hear yourself say he looks magical with the mist that’s starting to float around, a telltale sign that the potion you’re working on is almost complete, “With a little bit of a twist.”

“A twist?” You’re positive the mist swirling around the room has gotten into your head, twisting your mind into thinking nonsense, and almost scoffing when the thought of smelling what Jeno smells like in the Amortentia appears. “A twist how?”

“Well,” The mist around you is changing in colors; one moment you’re seeing a hint of green, something that reminds you of Donghyuck. Another moment you’re seeing pink, something that you’ve associated with your brother your entire life. You even started seeing a hint of blue, something that vaguely reminds you of you, although you didn’t expect to see the patches of red and gold. You didn’t expect to see the two specific colors that reminds you all too much of Gryffindor, all too much of Jeno. “We know that Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world and that it smells different to each person, according to what attracts them.”

“So I thought,” Jeno mumbles, “Why not create something that foretells who you’ll be attracted to?”

The potion itself turns from a darkened ink blue into one of a mother-of-pearl sheen, the color briefly catching your eye before it puffs out more mist, some enhancing into spirals while others turn into odd shapes. Your eyes are drawn to a perfectly shaped lion pup playing with its siblings, then darting around to lock onto what seems like a kitten playing with a golden snitch in its paws. Swirling spirals of mist encase both you and Jeno, said boy looking to the edge of the room where he sees a little girl, one that looks exactly like you, playing with a golden snake.

“I’d hate to pry.” Your eyes catch onto the sight of a little boy on a broomstick, flying around above meadows of flowers and your heart beats a little faster when you realize the child looks a little too similar to Jeno for your liking. “But what does it smell like to you?”

“It smells like crackling fire, vanilla, and ancient runes.” Jeno’s looking around in bewilderment, trying to find the little girl in the room only to find you standing, looking dazed but straight at him. His heart is beating hard and fast, mind racing with a billion thoughts while he tries to figure out the last time he’s caught a sniff of vanilla or ancient runes, finding it seldom that he encounters those objects. His mind clicks into place when he realizes the only time he’s smelt a whiff of vanilla, being earlier when he went into the Slytherin common room to see you. “What about you?”

“It smells like freshly mowed grass, new parchment,” Your eyes flick onto Jeno, finding it hard to see him in the midst of Red and Gold clouding your vision, while Jeno’s sight is filled with nothing but Green and Silver, “..and catnip.”

“My head understands things that my heart is not yet willing to accept.”

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

God of War (PS4) Review: Kratos’ Postal Grief Beard Versus Norse Mythology

Once upon a time, a man was born by the name of Cory Barlog and thus a coin was flipped. Would he become a videogame developer or would he take up guarding the Mines of Moria by pulling wizards into a precipice? Those really are the only two options with a name like Barlog. Anyway, apparently the Mines of Moria were a bit of a commute, so the world gained a talented Auteur developer with a unique vision for a game series about going postal in ancient Greece. Fast-foward a number of years specifically calculated to make you feel old and ancient Greece is a distant memory. Norse mythology is where all the cool kids hang out nowadays, and that’s where we’re going in today’s review.

As you might have guessed, I’ve just finished playing God of War (PS4), which is fun to say because it rhymes. It’s a very good game that should be a very bad game. When considering modern media artefacts, I’m often prompted to ask the question ‘what went so wrong?’, but this may be the first time I’ve had to ask the question ‘what went so right?’.

Let me explain: God of War 4 (I don’t care that they don’t put the number on the box art, that’s what it fucking is) makes a single, monumentally stupid creative decision that should ruin the entire enterprise, but doesn’t. And that creative decision was- wait for it- a stab at maturity.

The last time we saw Kratos- the world’s angriest mythical being- he was finishing his battle with the Greek gods in God of War 3. There was a moment in that game which, to me, typified what was so great about the series. If I recall the sequence of events correctly, you kill your way through an ocean of expendable goons and critters who are just trying to defend their home on Mount Olympus, dripping with blood and screaming furiously, then wander into the bedroom of one of ancient Greece’s sauciest goddesses and play a sex minigame that you win by fucking her so well that her handmaids orgasm too. Then you toddle outside again and, head cleared, solve an incredibly complex and cerebral puzzle involving non-Euclidean geometry and perspective manipulation that takes bloody ages. That, in a nutshell, was the core identity of the original God of War: a gleefully unrestrained and immature approach to sex and violence coupled with a grouchy willingness to make unsuspecting players feel like fucking idiots for no reason whatsoever. It was awesome. In contrast, God of War 4 picks up many, many years later with Kratos hiding out in Midgard of the Norse mythos and, for once, he hasn’t got a nark on and he’s not trying to stick his cock in someone with cartoonishly huge knockers. He’s just sad because his missus has passed away, leaving him and their young, impressionable son alone in a big, scary world full of trolls and ginger psychopaths. ‘Sad’ isn’t a completely new emotion for Kratos, but, up until this point, he was usually sad in a way that resulted in five hundred people getting their spines broken in a very colourful manner. Now he just wants to cremate the remains of the woman he loved and carry her ashes to the tallest peak in the nine realms so he can scatter her in accordance with her final wishes. And that’s what he does, with son- Atreus- in tow. It’s a twenty-plus hour game in which the objective is very simply to honour someone’s preferred funeral rites- nothing more, nothing less. It’s very modest by Kratos usual standards. Remember that his stated goal in the previous game was to punch freakin’ Zeus so hard that his face would go all concave and then repeatedly stamp on his corpse.

We never actually find out much about what Kratos was up to between games or how he met his wife. However, he’s a bit thiccer than in previous instalments and seems to have lost the use of the ‘jump’ button outside of context-sensitive environments. On that evidence, I choose to believe he’s been running a small but successful family restaurant called ‘Kratos’ Potatoes’ and enjoying it all a bit much. And why not? He beat up Zeus- if he just wants to create and sample homely yet exotic Greco-Norse fusion cuisine while growing a ridiculous straggly dad-beard, I say let him crack on. Actually, is it a ‘dad beard’ or is it a ‘grief beard’? I think they send them to videogame characters in the post whenever a loved one dies so they can signal to the world how sad they are through the medium of angsty facial hair. But where was? Oh yeah: cracking on with it.

Y’see this is where the plot comes in: the Norse gods won’t let Kratos crack on. They’re determined to make him bow before Odin- especially Baldur, who is way too invested in having a fight with Kratos for reasons that won’t become apparent until very late in the game. They just keep turning up and trying to break Kratos and his increasingly like-him-but-not-as-good-at-it son Atreus. This time around, our heroes commit heinous acts of violence to defend themselves, not enact revenge, as they travel, inexorably, to the top of a lonely mountain through landscapes of stunning natural beauty and many, many hostile creatures.

Of course, Kratos taking his son on a hiking holiday with added troll-murder and the occasional slap-fight with Norse mythology’s biggest killjoys doesn’t sound as interesting as the original games. After all, those were basically a production of Kill Bill in which the part of Bill was played by a guy with the power to summon lightning bolts and access to a seemingly unstoppable army of monsters and demigods. The ‘fun factor’ even seems to have taken another downgrade, in that Kratos no longer operates with the entertainingly demented passion of the insane: he has been tempered by time and love and managed to turn himself into a paragon of serious self control. So why is God of War 4 so bloody good? Partly, I suspect, the answer lies in the constantly evolving relationship between Kratos and Atreus, which gives the story an unbelievable amount of heart and always manages to feel very organic. Kratos never learned how to be a parent, and we essentially watch him do it in real time, forming a bond with his son that seems impossible at the start of the game and inevitable by the end. Partly, the games greatness lies in the characters you meet along the way, who range from bickering dwarves to talking, decapitated heads who prattle on like laid-back tour-guides. Partly, it’s in the beautiful, epic landscapes that make the journey across the Realms to the highest peak feel epic and significant, even while it is small and personal.

But a videogame is nothing without gameplay, and it is here that God of War 4 really shines. I loved the original God of War trilogy (especially the third instalment), but I rarely felt like I was playing as, y’know, a god of war. Kratos might not be an uncontrollable whirlwind of fury any more, but he feels truly powerful for the first time in the ongoing series. In fights, every punch feels like it could crack stone; every axe-throw like it could rend the sky; every chain-whip like it could legitimately start a forest-fire. Out of combat, Kratos moves around the environment with the stolid grace of a man who knows his movements are inevitable; irresistible; an imposition on the environment that can’t be denied. You climb and complete elaborate, complex traversals knowing that the satisfaction you feel isn’t just the satisfaction of finding the correct route or solving an obstacle, but the satisfaction of a being forcing his way through a landscape that resists him at every turn but cannot stop him. The puzzles- of which there are many- strike the perfect balance between conceptual trickiness and ease of execution to remind you that Kratos is smart as well as determined; that his mind is as indomitable as his body. Then there are the little touches involving heaving huge stone pillars and similar unnecessarily over-the-top efforts. In short, the gameplay is interwoven with who Kratos is- with what he is in way that seems completely unprecedented. Even the RPG elements feel  appropriate: they reflect the protagonist’s growing confidence in a skillet he hasn’t used in a long, long time.

Do I miss the uniquely juvenile, over the top identity of the old games? Absolutely: I’m a great fan of gratuitous gore and scantily clad women with big fuck-off swords. Usually, I find the desire for maturity in games to be a silly, pretentious trend that foolishly eschews anything obviously ‘fun’ for no reason other than courting the respect of people whose respect isn’t worth having. But I don’t think that’s what’s going on here- at least, not entirely. The developers of the God of War games are clearly artisans and craftsmen of extreme talent: their attention to detail is superb and their ability to weave a good tale from a simple premise is actually a little daunting for someone who considers himself a bloody good story-teller. It’s worth remembering that the de facto head of the studio, Barlog, became a father himself before commencing work on this game about a father learning to bond with his son. It feels personal and meant because it is. Other games might reach for superficially mature themes like family and redemption for altogether cynical reasons. God of War 4 does it because such thoughts are clearly much on the developer’s mind. I asked already ‘Do I miss the identity of the old games?’ and the answer is still yes. But that question deserves a follow-up: am I willing to embrace the identity of this new, quieter God of War anyway? And yes, yes I am.

But if we could have a few more women with enormous knockers and Kratos going properly batshit just once or twice in the next sequel, that would also be welcome. I mean, let’s try to strike a balance here, people, for pity’s sake.

[miraculouscontent]

Ask Explosion #9:

Asks answering previous posts:

Sabrina, I have one word of advice for you...

R U N

“Chat, please stop talking.”

“But that’s my thing!”

“YOU JINX EVERYTHING!!”

Ayyyyyy~

Well, it’s something, I suppose?

Answered this here.

It absolutely did. Bless you, kind and hilarious citizien. ;P

I’m torn because... on one hand, I want to give proper mythology and such for like--anything that’d be put into the show, but on the other, I liked the idea that Alix’s brother was just sort of a conspiracy who thought of stupid stuff (which is why I kept the concept for MC Jalil Kubdel).

Zoe did it really well in Scarlet Lady where Alix knew the actual mythology and started blurting it out whenever Jalil got it wrong.

New Asks:

Considering “Ikari Gozen,” I imagine Alya and Kagami don’t get along as well. I agree with basically everyone that Marinette and Kagami not getting along is bad, but Alya and Kagami not really getting along makes more sense and is more tolerable.

Since Alya is Marinette’s “““BFF”““ (supposedly), I could see her kind of being like, “You’re competing with my girl over the same guy,” and keeping Kagami at arm’s length, worried that keeping Kagami close will allow Kagami to be closer to Adrien since Adrien is an extension of their friend group (kinda, sorta, not really, but Marinette calling him a friend so technically--)

You know, Alya trying to be a good friend and help Marinette with Adrien in more subtle ways. It’s the wrong way to go about it but she’s trying.

LUKANETTE IS AMAZING IN TERMS OF PROGRESSION KDJNGJDFG, I ADORE IT. Every episode they share together, we either learn something new about them or see more details on their relationship.

I think I was already all-in before “Silencer,” but man, that episode just sealed it even more. I was like well dang, why does the love square even EXIST???

jfdngjkfdjgfdg

Incredible. Only problem is that the creator doesn’t know how to use it properly.

You mean fourteen year olds aren’t perfect human beings???? :o

(no, but really, that’s me all the time; like, she’s barely a teen!)

He’ll believe it if it’s Chat Noir who’s doing it. If Marinette ever does it though, he’ll be sure to shut it down. ;P

Ugggggh, the worst part is that I have the same exact fear that they really are going to be like yeah Ladybug you silly fool Chat Noir has been with you since the beginning!

I mean, we’re already basically getting that with the New York special; Chat was supposed to protect Paris and then didn’t tell Ladybug that he “had to” leave for New York (and the New York thing is inadvertently Marinette’s fault and parts of the fandom actually did blame her for it even though it was Chat’s choice not to say anything), then Ladybug gets upset with him when she discovers it mid-battle, which leads to Chat being distracted and Cataclysming someone (another thing that Ladybug can be “inadvertently” blamed for), then Chat gives up his miraculous so Ladybug isn’t even allowed to be angry and cue the later line of “I can’t imagine being Ladybug without... him.”

So clearly that’s saying something. Adrien doesn’t get anything close to that level and Marinette is chewed out for not asking him to stay when Nino had already asked him too.

It’s like--Marinette chooses to go after Adrien and then gets either nothing in return, or humiliated by the narrative, and then in the New York special, she decides to do nothing and everything still goes wrong while Alya yells at her for it. The “damned if she does, damned if she don’t,” on display is stunning. The girl tries to confess and it’s like, “no, not allowed, but Chat is allowed to confess.”

I still don’t understand this logic of his overarching plot but also “there’s not much of a timeline.” I think the only solid thing we’ve ever gotten was something about all the episodes in one season coming after all the episodes in a previous one, but there are still things that don’t add up? The only thing the season 3 production order will give is making sure the hero debuts work out (so no Viperion or Pegase before “Party Crasher,” for example).

It’s not really reliable. I mean, like--I’ve been experimenting with timelines for a while, and stuff like “Miraculer” baffles me. It’s basically non-canon with no value whatsoever. All it does is make “Heart Hunter” look even more confusing and treats Marinette even more horribly for not picking Chloe when she explicitly told Chloe that she wasn’t getting it back.

I’m not familiar with that one! Is it any good?

(Okay, I actually was too curious and ended up looking it up; fancy! I couldn’t have guessed that it was a webtoon! I started reading the 1st issue and before I knew it, I was on the 6th! Oops~)

Lila is totally Rashta, 100% agree. The fact that the comments have a nickname of “Trashta” for her, equivalent to Liar Rossi, says as much ;P

Because lessons that involve telling someone that they’re valid and allowed to feel a certain way don’t apply to Marinette. Isn’t it nice? :3

Not that I know of? Though I also don’t look for that kind of thing, so it’s possible that it exists and I just don’t know about it.

Even if it did exist thought, I don’t see a problem with you doing your own regardless. Good luck if you do!

No. No I do not. ;P

GREETINGS FELLOW INTJ!

And yeah, I’m not really capable of not analyzing shows. There are some small exceptions, but they’re usually not full shows in the normal sense. If there’s an ongoing plot, my mind tends to be working at all times.

In terms of Miraculous, Season 1 was harmless enough where I was bothered but pretty quiet about it, but then it just got progressively worse. It really feels like one of those things you can’t unsee when it finally hits you, y’know?

I’m glad I was able to help you get that satisfaction you need (and appreciate Lukanette, of course ;3)!

Non-Miraculous Asks:

(some heavy Puella Magi Madoka Magica salt below)

Wow, this is a really dedicated ask! Nice!

Gonna go point by point here:

1 - Yeah, the whole thing with Homura not “being able” to save everyone... kinda questionable, and I didn’t really buy the arguments they used to explain it away. I think there was this one PSP game or something with Madoka Magica where you could kind of choose what happened (like, there were bad ends where Sayaka didn’t get her soul gem back in time and her body was partially decayed; ick) and I think there’s a good end where Homura saves everyone but--yeah, not canon.

I just don’t care for twisted stories like that unless there is actually a good end on the horizon (and I mean like “Everyone Lives and is Happy” good end). Angst is just so exhausting so the second I saw Mami’s head being bitten I was just like, “Ah, okay, so we’re doing this then.”

2 - Eugh, the sexism thing. It’s so... yeah, and especially this because the whole “girls are emotional” thing, I don’t really care whether or not the show is trying to “subvert” or “explain” anything, it just feels like poor taste and I don’t like it. (I also didn’t know about that Death Note thing because I didn’t watch it, but geez.)

3 - Wow, I’ve been away from the show for so long that I forgot what Mami’s wish was; I thought it was to “not be alone” or something (or maybe not die alone?? I really don’t remember), but either way, the fact that it follows some sort of genie wish logic is just--*sigh*--they’re teenage girls, come on (plus, the “genie wish logic” is really overdone to me anyway).

4 - The other thing about Sayaka is that it’s really predictable that she’d “die so quickly.” Basically everything was pointing to her just being annihilated at some point, and being Madoka’s best friend, it was pretty inevitable that she’d go.

((semi-unrelated, but someone also asked me which character’s name was lied about before episode 3 hit and they wondered if it was Sayaka’s; it was Kyubey’s))

Yikes. Sorry you had to experience that.

Anyway, I guess I’m not experienced enough in multiple fandoms to say for sure? If I was ever in a fandom, I would just blacklist the people/stuff I didn’t like, so I didn’t get to see a tong of “bad things” going on.

+ I try really hard not to generalize fandoms into one thing.

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓝𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓼 𝓐𝓻𝓮 𝓢𝓽𝓾𝓹𝓲𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓑𝓸𝔂𝓼 𝓐𝓻𝓮 𝓐𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 “𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵𝔂” 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼

Oof, uhhh, shows, huh? That’s tough.

I think the main ship from Given (Mafuyu and Ritsuka) is really adorable (you might’ve seen the amusing video of their love being mutual before), and while I would’ve said the same thing for the kinda-sorta side ship, it gets--uh... really bad during the movie/rest of the manga, I’ll just say that much.

Mafuyu and Ritsuka though, totally adorable.

Inuyasha kinda? Though Inuyasha and Kagome are definitely not the kind of romantic chemistry that I lean towards (I find “the bickering couple” to be rather exhausting). Plus, Cardcaptor Sakura did the “male tsundere” better than Inuyasha did (though the Clear Card Arc was terrible, at least it’s not canon kinda-sorta? idk it seems like a mix of the anime and manga so...).

After that there’s...

uh

...

hm.

I mean, there’s probably a couple more examples somewhere, but--yeah, I’ve got nothing. Maybe if I thought back to all the generic children shows I watched when I was little (like those old Disney live-action shows; I had no taste when I was younger), there might’ve been something that satisfied kid me but idk.

I don’t remember what post inspired this, but I have no problem answering regardless, ahaha~

My main issue is Aang’s attitude about the whole thing. I’m not saying it was right of Katara to go out and get “revenge via murder” exactly, but I also think that Zuko had the right idea with allowing her to go and face the man who killed her mother so she could get some form of closure (also note that Zuko doesn’t express any sort of opinion when Katara decides not to kill him; he just wanted her to have whatever she thought she needed to heal).

It’s also the episode where Zuko directly confronts Aang on his “violence isn’t the answer” rhetoric which then goes completely ignored as Aang lionturtles his way out of the conflict. Aang is also not confronted on his point of “forgiveness is the first step to healing” (when Katara has a right not to forgive and Aang isn’t challenged outside of Katara commenting on it) and was permitted to ride his high horse when Katara “steals” Appa like, “It's okay, because I forgive you... that give you any ideas?” which is just--

reaaaaaally "holier than thou”-esque when Aang is like, ten, and Katara is a sort of motherly figure to him. The episode even has Sokka praise Aang for how “wise” he is and I groaned through the entire thing.

Another smaller thing is that it sort of makes the air kingdom look way too “perfect” by having Aang be the “source of wisedom,” especially when it’s like “violence isn’t the answer” while all the other airbenders are dead.

[taiblogcomics]

Further Issues Are Outlawed

Hey there, soggy waffles. Well, last week we finished The Ravagers, but we're not going to jump back into Teen Titans just yet. I got a new shipment! A pretty big one to boot. And normally we'd start with a bunch of MLP stuff, but... We have a rare opportunity here. We can do two finales in a row.

That's right, dear readers. This is... the last issue of Red Hood.

Here's the cover:

We actually get a good look at our new football-themed vigilante, Strike, here. It's actually a really good design! At least until you think about it for ten minutes, and realise: "Why is her name 'Strike'?" Like, shouldn't it be 'Touchdown' or something? I'm no sports expert, but I'm pretty sure strikes are in bowling. And either way, neither football or bowling uses a stick. Did Sportsmaster just not want to return your calls, ma'am? On the other hand, at least her design is still good, unlike our new villain Tommy Maxx in the middle there~

So let's see... It's been a while, but if I recall, last time Jason Todd finally ditched the Outlaws as both characters and comic title and returned home to Gotham City. He moves into the Hill, the local hellhole (hillhole?), where a new vigilante has been keeping the streets clean in the wake of the Joker War. Meanwhile, a goony fashion designer finally flips his lid and goes full supervill, naming himself Tommy Maxx and hiring Killer Croc as a minion. It's not the most exciting setup, but we're only here for one more issue anyways~

So we open with a big explosion, where Red Hood saves Strike. The news then reports that the explosion was caused in a designer shoe store, and accuses the culprit of being "yet another sloppy, amateur Joker", which I personally enjoy because of how accurate it is and how much it makes Masky McDouche upset. He calls up the news show to report he has more info on the bombing, which surely isn't going to incriminate him or anything. I should also note, since it's not as clear on the cover, it's 100% a mask he's wearing. He's also wearing a gator-skin jacket. I wonder how Croc feels about that. ...Is it Croc's skin? Eww...

There's no better cure for an explosion than chicken and waffles, so Jason Todd asks Strike (her real name is Dana, but let's go with Strike for simplicity) out for brunch. At the restaurant, they're chatting, mostly catching up on what Jason's missed in the years he's been gone. The news reporter from the previous night drops by, and it turns out she's Strike's sister Denise. They get kinda pissy at each other in short order, Denise hates vigilantes and Strike is one, and their dad was injured during the Joker War by vigilantes chasing down some goons. Neither agrees who's in the wrong. Strike leaves in a huff, and Jason chases after her.

After giving a bit of a lecture to Strike about the dangers of vigilantism, Jason spots Killer Croc hanging out in a fancy car a little way up the street. Changing into his costume, he goes over to chat. He asks what's up lately, since Croc's looking rather dapper nowadays. Croc tells him his latest job is "decoy", and Jason realises the target is Denise. And indeed, after finishing a raid on one of Black Mask's warehouses, it's Tommy Maxx who moves in to kidnap the reporter on her way to what she thinks is an interview with an eyewitness.

And then all heck breaks loose. Like, you see Tommy's goons sneaking up on Denise, flip the page, and suddenly it's an all-out car chase and gunfight. I believe the colloquial term is "That escalated quickly". In the end, though, Tommy makes off with Denise, and... This is his whole plan. He's petulant that she called him stupid on the news, so he wants to film a new introduction video with her, to show everyone he really means business. This is our villain. Additionally here, you can see his croc-skin jacket even has a tail hanging from the back of it.

To her credit, she keeps belittling him even while under his capture. That's guts. Strike and Jason pair up, and she unmasks herself to him to prove how serious this is to her. After all, just because they're fighting, Denise is still her sister. They bust in, and predictably, Strike manages to knock Tommy for a loop with just one swing, breaking his goofy mask in the process. Jason steps in before she continues to beat on a helpless, cringing opponent. Tommy goes to the hospital and then Arkham (his lawyer weaseled him an insanity plea to avoid the murder charges), and everyone else goes home.

The comic ends on two fronts. First, it turns out Croc was running the long game all along. He was working with the other gangsters from the last issue, and acted as Tommy's muscle just so he could be in a position to steal his tech when he inevitably failed and trade it back to this other gang. Croc gets the money and respect, the gang gets the tech, and Tommy got a moment in the spotlight. Everyone's happy!

In fact, the other ending is everyone being happy. Strike and Jason are painting his apartment when he spots a wrapped present. Jason opens it, declaring it to be a housewarming gift from Bruce Wayne, and then it just cuts up to Batman standing on a rooftop, staring at Jason through the window and smiling. That’s very weird, Bruce. A little stalker-y, even, some might say~

So then! I guess even Red Hood couldn’t survive as a solo act, considering his book lasted all of two issues after ditching the Outlaws. We really were reading it for everyone but Jason, I guess. Kind of a lackluster note to go out on, too. Like, Strike’s fine, I don’t have any actual issues with Strike. But Tommy Maxx was such a pathetic last villain for the series. Like, even in-universe everyone thought he was pathetic. Probably issue 51 was hoping to set it up more as an ongoing thing, flesh out the Hill as a setting. But with this issue ending the run, all the setup turned into nothing.

Speaking of setups turned into nothing, the ending seems weirdly ambiguous. Like, we never actually see what Bruce’s gift was (What’s in the box? What’s in the box??), so it just comes across as kind of a weird note to end the series on. Maybe it’s setup for a future series, but I’ll be hecked if I’ll ever follow up on that~

So! Golly, it’s been a ride. We’ve been following Jason Todd for ten years now, you realise that? All the way back in issue 1 of the first volume of Red Hood and the Outlaws, back at the beginning of the New 52 in 2011. Much like when we stopped following Suicide Squad, I think this is kind of just a much-needed break. We’ve earned this finale. As a series, it started off bad (possibly the worst of the New 52), and while it never really got to what I would call good, it did at least get better. The Artemis and Bizarro era were honestly pretty enjoyable. Farewell, Jason Todd! May you never darken our longboxes again~

Next time: fourteen weeks of MLP comics~