#rapid fire fun facts

[ismyteadoneyet]

As I'm diving back into the Legendborn fandom and making fanart

Those "this post contains filtered content: oathbound" posts become INCREASINGLY TEMPTING to open up 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔

I WANNA SEE WHAT YOU GUYS ARE TALKING ABOUT *gnaws at the bars of my enclosure* LET ME INNNNNN 💥💥💥

[manynarrators]

Do you like long fics? Slowburn? Polyamory? The most gut wrenching, funniest, and rewarding journey a fic can possibly take you on???

Then may I suggest everyone go and read @a-slight-sweet-fiction's Welcome to Night Vale fic Every Version Of You. It's 600,000 words, and still being updated! I've read the whole thing, and parts of it... two or three times based on when it had been updated up to that point. It is, legitimately, an absolutely phenomenal fic, I cannot stress it enough!

It's forced me to consider (in the best ways!) pacing and what exactly the limits of a relationship can be! (The whole fic has, thus far, taken place over the course of roughly three days!) It's probably my favourite wtnv fic I have ever read. I cannot recommend it enough.

[zecoritheweirdone]

first art post of the new year!!! granted, i don't share my art here that much anyway, but– shhh.

hehehehhhooo,, here's something i've been working on for 'bout a month,, albeit not consecutively– took a few,, very very long breaks in between working on this,, but i managed to finish it in the end! am i satisfied with it? .......ehhhh? not completely, but if this took any longer, it might not have seen the light of day, so like. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

anyway,, made a little poster for my favorite fic, tommyinnit's services for villains, vigilantes, and various other vagabonds, by @scorpionoesit!!! it's really really good,,, and i've always wanted to make more art for it,, so i decided– poster! at least,, that's what it's mean to resemble,,, dkdmkdmdkd.

i will freely admit,, i'm... not the biggest fan of the fan-made logo i tried to design for it,, feels a bit boring, and could definitely have used a bit more pizazz, something to make feel more like the fic itself(what does that mean? you figure that out),,,, but– again, steam was running low,, dkdnksjs. graphic design is my passion. i do also have other complaints, but i'm afraid i already punched my one-use self-critique card,, oh well,,, dkdnkxjdkd.

regardless,, even with the flaws only i can really see,, this still turned out pretty okay!! hope you enjoy it, mx. scorpio and mx. alibi!!! and i hope everyone else has a wonderful new year!!!!

[monstersholygrail]

Rushing Rapids

Merman x fem!reader— teasing, wild sex, creampie, aftercare, and a little teasing of cumplay

You could count on one hand the number of times your Merman Boss has let you see his Merman form. Far too busy running a highly successful company, the man doesn't often have time for a dip in the water to let his true self out to shine.

In fact, it was your job as his bodyguard to make sure he didn't come into contact with any source of water. Even the slightest drop ends up triggering his tail and he's left stuck like that for hours. And while your boss has gone through countless bodyguards to fulfill this task, you've been by far the best.

And you've lasted the longest too. You often hear his workers whispering to each other, secretly teasing him about how he must be in love with you to keep you around so long. While you didn't want to believe it, you couldn't ignore the way your heart flutters whenever it greets your ears.

But after today you're sure any feelings he has toward you are long gone. You half expect him to fire you on spot.

Today had been an important day for him as he had a lunch scheduled with an important client. All was going well until the waiter tripped, sending an entire pitcher of water to crash over him. You had been too slow, hadn't noticed the waiter fumbling nor the trajectory of the pitcher.

For a moment the world went still until your Merman Boss looked up at you with wide horrified eyes. While you were sure the horror was aimed at you, your boss was too busy wondering where he was possibly going to go. Luckily it just so happened that your place was nearby.

Now here you are, sitting on your toilet as your Boss' ginormous frame squishes into your tiny bathtub, his tail even falling off the edge and onto your floor. An adorable little pout marks his lips as he flicks at the water like he's this close to personally trying to fight it.

A part of you fears he's not only angry at the water but at you as well. Sure, you haven't been perfect at your job. You've made small mess ups here and there. But nothing like this.

"You seem upset."

Your Boss snaps his head over toward you, his pout growing impossibly bigger. If you didn't already know the question was ridiculous, his following scoff and the look on his face was plenty enough for you to get the message.

"Of course I'm upset. I just had a very important meeting fall through because a clumsy waiter forgot what even a merperson can do. Walk. And most don't even have legs."

His response stops you in your tracks, jaw dropping a little. He wasn't blaming you at all. The more you look at him the more you realize he isn't mad at you about it at all. Relief blooms in your chest, making you sit a little taller. You internally thank your boss, he should feel some of this relief too.

Without responding to his sarcastic reply you look around the bathroom in search of something that will help uplift the mood for him. As your eyes catch onto a bin in the corner your eyes light up.

Your boss is jolted from his thoughts as you suddenly dump a whole bin full of rubber duckies into the tub. All in attempts of making this feel more like a fun bath and less like a trap. But by the flat look on his face your boss is less than amused. Which you probably should've been expecting.

"Really? Rubber ducks?"

His voice shows his clear disdain for the toy but he hesitantly reaches out a hand and begins pushing it around. Almost... playing with it. Although he'd never admit that to you.

"Well, what else is there to do besides wait it out? There's not any other way to turn you back sooner?"

Your question settles between you two before something sparks in the depths of Merman Boss' eyes. His finger stills on the yellow duck toy but it drifts away in the water and it's impossible to know where it'll end up next. Something unsettling churns in your belly and you get the feeling you're not about to like this.

"Ok, so there may be something... But I can't say it out loud. Come in closer."

A lick of suspicion curls around you and your eyes narrow, appraising your boss. Though with one impatient look from him you know you won't be putting up an argument with him about it. He always ends up getting his way anyway so why not skip the foreplay?

"W-what is it? What can't you say out loud?"

The toilet rattles beneath you as you shift closer. It's the only real sound in the quiet bathroom aside from the swishing of water. Your breath hitches once you reach a certain closeness to your Merman Boss. This being officially the closest you've ever dared to be with him.

"Closer—“

"I'll do anything just tell me what you need," you interrupt, both not wanting to lose your job and giving any excuse you can to be near your boss.

Suddenly his hands are splashing out of the water and gripping onto your soft round hips. A shriek tears through you as one minute you're dry and the next you're soaking wet. And not in the good way either. You smack against a hard chest, your legs straddling the thick width of a tail, and it takes you a second to fully realize that your boss had just pulled you in.

Before you can lift your head to yell at him, his fingers pinch your chin and force you to meet his gaze. What you see in his eyes immediately silences you. The hunger burning in them leaves you gasping, sparking arousal deep in your core.

He leans in, stopping just short of your lips as they brush against each other. Your breath mingling and making you squirm on his slick tail. While you watch him stare down at your lips, waves of arousal continue to build within you.

"A human's kiss can turn me back much faster than simply waiting," he whispers softly like he doesn't want to break the tension between you.

Your body tingles with need as every fantasy you've ever dared to have about your boss dares to come to life. Every inch of you is overcome with impatience as you wriggle on his lap some more, gasping when something hard pops out from a slit on his tail.

"So why don't you kiss me?"

If possible, your Boss' eyes grow darker, the hunger inside them roaring to life as if trying to consume even him. His hold on your chin tightens like he's the one who needs to keep you still while he's shaking from his own restraint.

"Because once I start I won't be able to stop at just a kiss."

You go to ask what he means he bucks up his hips, intently brushing his rock hard cock along your clothed slit. And you immediately moan, totally unprofessional by the way, eyelashes fluttering briefly till you manage to look at your boss again.

You consider his words and what they could mean for you after this. But you want this, you've always wanted this since you first started working for the mysterious man. And it seems like he wants you just so much. So there's no need to fight it.

"Then don't stop," you reply.

Merman Boss surges forward before the words finish falling from your lips, his mouth clashing against yours. Mirroring moans vibrate between you like you're the sweetest damn thing he's ever tasted.

He presses into you as if trying to devour you, kissing you hard. Tongues fight for dominance and teeth knock together in your sheer desperation to make up for all the time you spent together not doing this.

His hand moves from your chin, caressing the skin of your cheek, and threading itself inside your hair. Ensuring you're real and that this is actually happening. Using his hold on you he molds your plump frame against his and starts rocking your core against his hard length.

"Get these off," he pants heavily, only breaking away from the kiss long enough to say that and then he's right back on you.

With a shocking amount of skill, the two of you manage to peel off your wet clothes in record time.

Both of you release strong powerful moans as your dripping cunt first makes contact with his thick girth. Every nerve in your body pulses as he takes hold of his cock and drags it through your folds, coating his length with your essence.

"You have no idea how long l've wanted this. Wanted you,” he breathes, his eyes shining with a longing that reflects your own.

"I have some idea."

Then you both moan as you sink down on his long pulsing cock, your hips buckling down on his length, taking him in hard and fast. Something ignites in your boss’ eyes and you shiver as his hands curl over your plush waist to help guide your movements.

But he has no idea how long you’ve been needing this, and it’s clear by the way his eyes widen as you start to ride him like your life depended on it. Your fingers dig into the scales on his shoulders to ground you and he hisses, his cock twitching and sliding against that special spot inside you.

With a fierce cry you start riding him even harder, every hard wet slap of your bodies meeting is aimed right for that spot, making you see stars. The water sloshes around in the tub like it’s in the midst of a raging storm when in reality it’s just you and your boss fucking each other’s brains out.

“Look at you, so perfect f’me. More than I ever realized,” your boss purrs, sounding as if he’s found the oceans most greatest treasure.

You moan loudly, your head rolling back as waves of pleasure rock through your body with every hard pump of his cock, his words only turning you on even more. Your body begins to buzz, on the precipice of something huge.

It only takes a few more pointed thrusts before you’re coming all over his cock with a ragged gasp, your body tensing before you sag against him, letting him take what he needs. And feeling your slick gummy walls clamping so deliciously on his length drives him nearly feral, his fangs flashing and his claws digging into your skin.

He moves your pussy up and down his cock, spurred on by every whine and whimper that falls from your mouth. Piercing growls slip from his own as your cunt drives him absolutely insane, he’s never felt anything better.

And he proves just that as he drives in as far as his cock can go and releases buckets of cum right into your depths, having never cum so hard in his life.

You both fall back to rest against the back of the tub, the only sound in the room being your harsh panting breaths. His hands smooth the tremors from your body, brushing up along your spine and holding you close. It’s nice and peaceful. Or is it the calm before the storm?

Because the longer he does it the action goes from soothing to arousing. And you know he can feel it too, just how much it’s affecting you. Your pulsing walls already trying to milk more from his spent shaft. And sea gods help him but it’s working.

“You know… it’ll still be some time before my tail fades. Why not make the most of it?” Your boss asks, hands sliding down to grab handfuls of your fat ass, and flexing his stomach as he rolls his hardening cock into your cum-filled cunt.

[butchdykenormallen]

hey guys guess whos not on post limit anymore!

[zorosgirlfriend]

Hii :) could i request Sanji getting his face peppered with kisses by his partner but they have lipstick on so he's full of kiss stains?

Vinsmoke Sanji ~ !! Peppered in Kisses.

warnings: none. zoro is mentioned

masterlist and rules || have fun reading!

Sanji was doomed the moment you walked in.

You had that glint in your eye.

Mischievous,

Loving,

Dangerous.

And he barely had time to say your name before you pounced.

“Wha—darling—!?”

You grabbed his face with both hands,

Fingers curling around his jaw,

You began pressing rapid-fire kisses all over his cheeks,

Nose,

Forehead,

And anywhere you could reach.

“Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!”

Each kiss came with a dramatic,

Exaggerated sound,

Making it impossible not to laugh in between.

Sanji was already red in the face by the third kiss, sputtering,

“W-Wait, sweetheart—! I—hngh—!”

But he made zero effort to stop you.

In fact,

He leaned into it,

Heart thudding against his ribs like a runaway train.

Unbeknownst to him,

Your lipstick,

A vibrant pinkish-red.

Was not exactly smudge-proof.

So by the time you were finished,

Standing back with a proud grin,

Sanji looked like he’d been attacked by a particularly affectionate paintbrush.

“Ta-da!”

You said proudly,

Admiring your handiwork.

“Now everyone knows you’re mine.”

Sanji blinked.

Then turned to a nearby mirror.

“…Oh my god,”

He gasped.

“I—I look like I’ve been blessed by Aphrodite herself.”

He spun to face you,

Totally starry-eyed,

Cupping his face like a giddy teenager.

“You made me your canvas! Mon amour, this is art. This is romance. This is—”

He sniffled dramatically,

“—the happiest day of my life.”

Cue the door creaking open.

Zoro paused in the doorway.

“...The hell happened to your face?”

“JEALOUS, MARIMO?”

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Jade x Reader – Commit to the Bit

Summary: After escaping Scarabia and crash-landing in Monstro Lounge during Chapter 4, you form a deeper relationship with Octavinelle’s vice leader. The Reader’s bold moves pique Jade’s interest. The two are equally committed to keeping up their acts to maximize the most hilarious reactions from their friends. No matter how big the trick is they always “Commit to the Bit,” and some pranks turn into fact instead of a facade. 

Word Count: 12.5k+

Author’s Note: This wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for @solxamber. I told her my idea and she became invested. It pushed me to finish this. Somehow it’s turned into this monster of a piece. I had a splendid time with this. Please comment and enjoy!

Tags: @marsinrain @solxamber idk who else to tag lol

You and Grim scream at the top of your lungs as Kalim’s flying carpet rockets past different sceneries. You hear Scarabia students shouting after you. However, no human is a match for an out-of-control, speeding carpet. 

“We’re gonna hit the mirror!!” Grim shrieks. 

You grip your companion as you fly through. You know you won’t slam into glass but you also don’t know where you’ll land. The two of you exit the hot desert and are flung into darkness. With no ability to see or steer, you crash into something. 

You groan. Thankfully you landed on something soft. It feels like a couch. 

“Grim, are you ok?” You call out. 

The cat whines, “No, but I’m alive.”

“It’s better than being tortured and imprisoned in Hellabia,” you comment, before asking. “Where are we?”

Lights flick on. You wince, shielding from the unexpected brightness. A distinct voice echoes out.

“Oya, I was wondering who would be here at this time of night.”

Your head snaps up to see the tweels. A twinkle glitters in your eyes. 

“Oh, thank god, it’s someone menacing!” you exclaim, “Plus, you’re in debt to us for stopping Azul’s overblot and you’ll find our situation interesting.”

You watch Jade’s eyes widen at your rapid-fire enthusiasm. Even Floyd seems momentarily lost for words. It’s not unexpected. Every time you’ve interacted with the trio, you’ve been reserved. The group seemed more trouble than they were worth. While you gravitate to interesting circumstances and people, you’ve been entertained by the overblots. It didn’t seem necessary to seek out the tweel tricksters and their con artist boss. However, your circumstances have changed. 

You want revenge on Scarabia and you've fallen right into the perfect predator’s lap. This trio is vindictive and vicious. They like throwing people off for fun. They’re exactly what you need. 

You haven’t sought vengeance on the other overblot students because you haven’t been directly involved. If you were, you knew you could get out of it. It was another riveting problem you needed to solve. You weren’t affected by Riddle. You don’t have magic and you’re not in Heartslabyul. For Leona, you can’t play Magical Shift. Ruggie’s magic didn’t hurt you. You didn’t make a terrible deal with Azul. You just had to get your dumb friends out of a bad situation lest you die of complaints. You weren’t worried about Ramshackle, because you had the skill to get it back. You were the one who planned Azul’s ultimate demise after all. With Scarabia though, they put you through torture. They forced you to walk across the desert. They caught you multiple times trying to escape and you’re not letting that go. 

Therefore, you’re throwing away all pretenses to recruit these slippery fish folk. If anyone would be on board this ship, it would be the Octavinelle trio. 

You barrel on, summarizing. “We just escaped Scarabia prison. They kidnapped us, locked us up for over a week, and forced us into inhuman slavery with the excuse of “training!” Plus, a coup is about to happen. Something’s fishy and it’s not you.”

You get up, walking toward the twin, bubbling in excitement. Before either of them can respond, another person speaks up. It’s the languid and steady voice of a businessman. 

“A coup?” Azul inquires.

You glance at him and nod. 

“The Scarabia students aren’t happy with Kalim’s treatment. They want Jamil to usurp him,” you briefly explain, before adding. “You know why that’s strange.” 

The dorm leader gives a thoughtful hum before a group of Scarabia students burst through the door. 

“We found you, thieves! There’s nowhere to run now,” one of them declares.

You step closer to Jade and retort, “Wrongful imprisonment and mistreatment of workers is a crime. We took dire measures to escape. Grim and I aren’t a part of your dorm. Jamil invited us. If you were good hosts, you’d respect the wishes of your guests and let them leave when they become uncomfortable. I have video evidence.” 

The last part was a lie, but you wanted to provoke them. You pull out your phone and wave it around. You’re curious to see how the twins will react.

One hot-blooded student lunges for your device. You “yelp,” jumping behind the quieter twin. In a flash, Jade has their wrist in a crushing hold. 

“When it comes to recording illegal activity, as long as the person recording does not interfere, it’s submissible in court,” Jade dictates in a smooth and steady voice. 

His eyes narrow in delight as his victim’s hand turns blue due to lack of circulation. The student pales. 

Another boy argues, “They stole Kalim’s magic carpet. Theft is a crime too.”

“Besides, this isn’t any of your business! Back off,” someone else interjects. 

There’s a collective agreement when Azul cuts in. 

“Based on the prefect’s testimony, we’ve offered them sanctuary. Until we’ve investigated this matter, Octavinelle will keep Kalim’s magic carpet,” the dorm leader details before giving a deadly smile, “For now, you’re in our territory. I’ll kindly ask you to leave. If you don’t do it willingly, I have no problem forcing you.”

One of the students grits his teeth and barks, “They stole Kalim’s carpet! Do you know how precious it is?”

You speak up, “Yes, and because Octavinelle is sheltering us, they’ll want to ensure his carpet is returned in pristine condition. It would be embarrassing if there were any blemishes they didn’t catch. They’re incredibly benevolent and would want to compensate Kalim.”

You’re about to reassure them you’ll give it back tomorrow when you notice something. Your crash landing destroyed some tables. Azul would never let that go. You change your goal and escalate the situation.

“Although, it is pathetic that there are so many of you and you’re scared of two people, a magicless student, and their cat. Your attitudes are a reflection of your dorm. Perhaps, you deserve the grueling treatment Kalim subjects you to. Maybe you can learn how to be mentally stronger,” you taunt. 

It has the desired effect. The Scarabia students attack. You grin and snatch the carpet. Before you move, you see Grim lining up to fire. You pick him up by the scruff of his neck and slide up to Azul. 

“Why are you taking me away?” Grim cries, kicking the air. “I want to fight too!”

“If you attack them, we’re at a disadvantage. They could claim we used force as well. It’s better to let the tweels handle it,” you reply, before whispering in his flaming ear. “I don’t fancy paying Octavinelle for property damage. If you don’t want to become fish food, keep quiet.”

Grim squeaks and nods. You place him down, pat his head, and watch the battle. The place becomes a mess. Your initial damages blend in with the landscape. 

You’ve always admired the twins’ fighting style. They get up close and personal, bashing people into walls and tables. The combination of physical power and magical prowess is unique, effective, and intimidating. It sends people running. 

“You should bill Kalim for compensation,” you suggest to Azul, “He’s their dorm leader. It’s supposedly on his orders that Grim and I were held hostage.”

The man grits his teeth, “You intentionally provoked them. We won’t get any money if the carpet is damaged.” 

“It’s not. We can check now,” you reassure.

You turn and walk to the bar. You smirk to yourself. He didn’t notice your crash-landing. You distracted him with the potential coup and later the Scarabia mob blocked his line of sight. Now, you’re off the hook.

You lay the magic carpet on the counter. 

“Carpet, are you hurt in any way?” You question. 

The animated object’s tassels shake a no. 

You request, “Perfect. Just in case, can we look over you?” 

It moves its tassels up and down and flops onto the counter. You laugh at the action. Pulling out your phone flashlight, you ensure there are no imperfections. A scream and snap resound behind you. You and Azul ignore it. Floyd cackles with a crazed edge and a sinister chuckle comes from Jade. 

You feel Grim press against your leg. Glancing down, you grab him and put him on a bar stool. You ask the carpet to flip itself so you can inspect the back more closely.

“This is incredible quality,” Azul states, running his fingers across the fabric. 

You can practically hear the money signs in his voice. 

You roll your eyes. “Do you doubt the Al-Asim’s wealth?” 

“No! I’m just admiring the business opportunity,” he answers. 

Something thuds beside you. You look down to find a struggling Scarabia student on the floor. You stare. You’ve covered up your part of the crime and it’s illegal for them to trespass on private property. You deem it fine to enact violence before slamming your foot into his face. 

The student yells, clutching his broken nose. You kick him a few feet away. Once he’s out of range, you casually turn back to the Octavinelle house warden. 

“You said you were providing us sanctuary. I expect you to uphold your statement,” you tell him. 

The sophomore stares at you with an open mouth. You continue the conversation for him.

“If you can’t tell, I’d like to get revenge on these people. In addition, this is good for you. If we figure out what’s wrong with Kalim, he’ll owe you a debt. Your bodyguards will be invested because it causes chaos. There’s no down–” 

A hand brushes your ankle.

You pin it under your foot before the perpetrator latches on. You slowly turn your gaze to the ground. It’s the scum you left a shoe imprint on. How cute. 

You give a soft smile and swivel your heel into his hand. There are a few cracks.

“Did you know that there are 27 bones in the human hand?” you ask, leaning down. “That’s about one-quarter of all the bones in your body. They’re also some of the most painful to break because they have the most nerve endings. It’s been used as a torture method to get people to confess.”

The teenager’s free hand shoots out to grab your other ankle. A deadly spark flickers in your eyes. You snatch the extremity and extend it above his body until you hear a pop. His shoulder dislocates. You send another warm smile. It’s so out of place, it’s uncanny. 

“You haven’t learned your lesson, have you? That’s ok. I’m a great tutor. Carpet, please move away from me and the fight,” you request. 

You watch the magic item fly away and turn back to the Scarabia member. 

“For the record, Kalim sent you, correct? I must ensure Azul sends the bill to the right person. I don’t want to be liable for any damages to the Monstro Lounge,” you explain condescendingly. 

Instead of answering, your victim spits at you. Your eyes widen. You keep your calm and sweet expression. 

“You just signed your ticket to hell,” you sing before stomping his groin.

You use his moment of vulnerability to yank him up. You open his jaw, place it on the edge of the bar, and crack your elbow over his head. Controlling your strength, you make sure he only breaks some teeth. You don’t want to kill him. 

“Woaaah! Shrimpy's got some moves!” Floyd cries behind you. 

You flash a brilliant grin. Jade looks at you with wide eyes before narrowing into a thrilled shimmer. They’ve dealt with the students on their side. Everyone watches you, so you put on a show. 

Pulling your victim off the counter, you throw him onto a nearby seat. You pluck the magic pen off him and toss it to Grim. 

“Now you can experience what it’s like to be a magicless student,” you comment, rummaging through his pockets. “Although, you got beat up by me despite having magic. It’s quite embarrassing.” 

The boy is too terrified to stop you. You remove his wallet and flip through the different cards he has.

“In addition to losing against me, you lost Kalim’s carpet and—Ooh, a gift card.” 

You pocket it and take out the wad of cash. You leave his ID and credit card. It’s more trouble than it’s worth to steal someone’s credit or debit card. If you use it, it can be tracked. On the other hand, gift cards and physical money are safe. 

You continue, “You failed to recapture Grim and I. You should probably keep quiet for now and figure it out what to do in the morning. It’s late. Despite your injuries, you’ll have to walk through the desert tomorrow. You need all the sleep you can get. Hopefully, you have a medic on hand.”

After shaking the boy down you snatch his magical pen from your cat. You tuck it back into his shirt pocket and pat it.

“I’ll return this to you so people won’t question why you don’t have it. Be grateful for the small things.” You smile before shoving him out of his seat and onto the floor. 

You toss the wallet on his limp body. After making sure there’s no blood on the bar stool, you replace him and cross your legs. When nobody moves, you glance at the mob. 

“You should grab him before he bleeds out,” you suggest.

Two Scarabia students scurry up to help their fallen comrade and scuttle out the door. 

Jade slides up beside you.

“That was impressive, [Y/N]. Where did you learn to fight like that?” The quieter twin asks. 

Floyd grins, skipping over. “Shrimpy’s awesome! I haven’t seen anyone be that ruthless in a while.”

“My family taught me,” you shrug, before addressing Azul. “Do you have a room Grim and I can sleep in tonight?” 

The octopus pushes his glasses up, regaining his composure from the intense shock. 

The house warden answers, “No, we don’t, but—” 

“--That’s fine. I’ll sleep with Jade.”

It takes a moment for the others to process your words. Azul is the first to react. 

“WHAT?!?!” He screams.

Jade’s eyes blow wide as they look at you, stunned. Floyd’s voice is caught in his throat. It takes everything in you to keep a straight and innocent face. To distract yourself from laughing, you reach down to pick up Grim. You hold him out to Floyd. 

“You can have Grim. He’s a great cuddler,” you tell him, before glancing at his twin. “You share a room, right?”

Jade slowly nods. 

You bob your head and shove your cat into Floyd’s arms. Hopping off your seat, you grab the quieter eel.

“You’re ok with it, right?” you confirm. 

The man looks torn between asking if you’re sure and agreeing for fun. Your decision to share a bed with a distant, borderline-deadly acquaintance is a wild and concerning move. You can tell he’s worried for your safety and sanity. 

Azul interrupts, yelling, “You can sleep on the couch!”

“But I want to sleep on a bed,” you argue, before asking him. “Do you want to share with me?” 

“Ew, no,” the octopus responds. 

“Well, I’m not rooming with Floyd. Jade’s my best choice,” you say, “Let’s go. I’m tired and we have to get revenge in the morning.” 

You drag the chosen twin out the door without waiting for anyone else. 

From behind you, Floyd chortles, “Shimpy is bold! I guess you’re sleeping with me, Baby Seal.” 

Grim cries out in distress.

Jade leads you to their bedroom. It’s obvious which section is his.

Walking over to his bed, you ask. “Do you have a preference on which side you sleep on?”

“No, I don’t.” The vice leader shakes his head.

Floyd busts in, clutching a dead-faced Grim. 

“We’re having a sleepover,” he squeals, launching at you. 

You slip behind Jade, but he dodges. Your eyes widen as the chaotic eel barrels toward you. You tackle the vice leader to avoid him. 

Both of you fall on the bed as he lets out a surprised sound. 

“Dogpile!” Floyd shouts. 

He jumps and knocks the wind out of you. Grim screeches as he’s smooshed. The taller twin laughs and you can’t help but chuckle too. It turns into a full-blown cackle at the absurd situation. Factoring in your earlier stunt, you lose it. 

You can’t breathe but it doesn’t stop you from wheezing, “Your faces when I said I’d sleep with Jade! You were so surprised. Azul’s reaction was gold. I had to fight so hard to keep a straight face, but it was worth it.”

You grip Jade’s shoulders, shaking. Tears begin streaming down your face. Your giggle fit continues as you shove Floyd off you. The Octavinelle student laughs alongside you and even Jade joins in. 

Grim tries to stay silent, frowning, because you left him with Floyd. However, the air is too infectious. He can’t help but snicker too. 

It takes a while before you can speak. You sigh as your laughter passes. You turn to Jade. 

“Imma get ready for bed. I need all my energy to fulfill my retribution,” you state, sitting up. “Do you have an extra toothbrush and can I borrow some pajamas?” 

Jade nods, standing up to fetch the requested items. 

Floyd complains next to you. “I wanna stay up~!” 

“We’re having a two-day sleepover. Maybe even more. We’re infiltrating Scarabia tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll be too busy planning dastardly schemes to get much sleep anyway,” you reason. 

The fictitious eel weighs his options before agreeing, “Ok! I still have Baby Seal to keep me company.” 

Floyd grabs Grim and squeezes. Your cat squeaks and looks at you desperately. You turn away, feigning ignorance, as you take Jade’s pajamas and the extra toiletries. 

“I’ll get you for this,” Grim promises, as Floyd takes him to his side of the room. 

You look at the offered sleepwear. It’s a set of turquoise silk pajamas. You rub your thumb along it. They’re soft. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, “I’ll be quick.” 

After completing your nighttime routine, you slip back into the room. Heading to the light switch, you focus on Jade’s bed. Once you’ve mapped your path, you flick it off and dive. Crashing into his body, your bedmate lets out an “oof.”

“You’ve done that twice tonight. You can’t keep your hands off me,” he teases, amused.

“You’re interesting and like to mess with people. Why wouldn’t I want to be close to you?” you throw back.

He’s quiet as you climb over him, taking the space closest to the wall and furthest from Floyd. If the ball of eccentric energy attempts to approach you in your sleep, you can use his twin as a shield.

Once you settle in, the vice leader speaks up.

“I could strangle you in your sleep,” he threatens in a low voice.

You raise an amused eyebrow. “You could but you won’t.”

“Why do you think so?” Jade questions. 

“I’m more entertaining alive than dead or hurt,” you answer with confidence. 

Burrowing yourself into the covers, Jade hums. “You have no sense of self-preservation.”

“Maybe I’m just good at picking people,” you reply.

“You have strange tastes,” he responds. 

“If I have strange tastes, then you’re a hypocrite,” you retort with a smile. 

Turning toward the wall, you let sleep overtake you.

————————

You’re a light sleeper. Thankfully, you’re only interrupted a few times. It’s better than sharing a bed with Grim. Unlike your cat companion, Jade is still. However, there are moments when you regain consciousness.

You feel the Octavinelle student shift. He drapes an arm over your midsection, pulling you in. You feel his warmth against your back. Your breath catches as you try to calm your racing heart. Despite your previous bravo and nonchalant attitude, you feel attracted to the twin. You take deep breaths and concentrate on deciphering if Jade is asleep. It’s important for your analysis. After a few minutes, you conclude he is unconscious. You raise your eyebrows. That's a surprising and good sign. 

The stunt you pulled was a test. You wanted to see if Jade would cross any boundaries. He’s a wild card. You’re certain Floyd would choose his whims over your needs. However, his twin was more restrained or at least clear-headed during social interactions. 

Before committing to your romantic pursuit, you need to know if the other person respects you. It’s a key factor in a lasting relationship. You’re not interested in a fling. You want a long-term partner. Jade piques your interest and you want to know if he’s a good match. The sophomore passed the first test. In light of that, you reward him.

Gently flipping over, you nuzzle into his arms. The man is surprisingly warm. Before you drift into dreamland, you wonder if it’s an adaptation to the cold sea climate. 

———————————

Warm arms leave your side. You groan, grabbing onto Jade’s shirt. 

“What time is it?” you question, bleary-eyed. 

“6:30,” Jade states, stopping his retreat.

It sounds like he’s been awake for a while. You revel in the fact he didn’t move your positions. It’s another positive mark. You don’t let on to your thoughts.

“It’s way too early, but Scarabia starts walking at 8,” you grumble, “It’s one more reason to get back at them. However, I want to look good while doing it. I need to give off an innocent vibe.”

Your voice is still ragged from sleep and you slink your arms around Jade. 

“Innocent?” the vice leader questions, “After you tore through that poor soul?” 

“I gotta plan,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. 

Jade stiffens before tentatively relaxing. You resist the urge to smirk. The eel is intuitive. You appreciate a quick-minded and observant individual. It looks like the Octavinelle student is insightful enough to know that you’re up to something and to follow your lead.

You continue, complaining, “I don’t wanna get up.”

You keep it down, not wanting to wake up Floyd. Thinking about the room's other occupants, you peek past Jade to see the other bed. 

Floyd is sprawled out with the sheets half kicked off him. Grim lies on his chest fast asleep. You smirk. You have to take a picture of this, but the bed and Jade are comfy. 

You huff and scrunch your nose. Taking a breath of fortitude, you give your snuggle buddy one last squeeze, before slinging yourself over him. With the grace of a cat, you avoid getting caught in the covers and place your feet on the floor in silence. 

Unbeknownst to you, your chosen eel follows your figure with the eyes of a predator. 

Walking over to grab your phone, you pad to the left side of the room. You ensure the ringer is silenced before taking multiple pictures of the cute duo. When you turn back to Octavinelle’s vice leader, he’s half sitting up, gazing with a smirk. 

The teenager’s hair sticks up all over the place. You turn the camera to him and snap a photo. A smile is still plastered on his face but his head tilts, planning payback. You roll your eyes. You’re not interested in being a victim of the twin’s antics yet. Plopping beside him, you grab his shoulder and pull him closer. You flip the camera to selfie mode and take photos of you and the eel. There’s a soft smile on your face and an entertained smirk on Jade’s. Both of you look equally ridiculous and disheveled. 

“Now we’re even,” you whisper, “What’s your phone number? I don’t want you to think I’m holding this hostage. It’s only fair you have them too.” 

Jade raises his eyebrows, impressed by your smooth way of getting his number. He enters his contact info into your device and hands it back. With a few taps, you send him the captured memories. 

“We should get ready,” you sigh. 

“Indeed. Although, I don’t know how you’re going to pull off an innocent look,” he comments, smirking. 

—--------------

The Octavinelle trio, the Ramshackle duo, and the magic carpet enter Scarabia. The five humanoids are blasted by hot air.  

Floyd laments, “It feels like the middle of summer. I’m going to dry out at this rate.” 

You perk up, curious. 

“Are your body temperatures higher than regular humans because you all live in a colder climate?” you question. 

Azul turns to you, surprised. 

“Yes, we do. How do you know?” he replies. 

You focus on maintaining a straight face. Out of everyone’s reactions last night, Azul’s was the most entertaining.

“Jade was incredibly warm when we cuddled,” you reveal. 

The businessman’s eyes bulge out and he coughs. You clench your teeth, resisting the urge to laugh. The gentlemanly twin is unable to resist and enhances your performance. 

He puts an arm around your waist and confirms, “They were rather cool, so it didn’t bother me. Their hair also smells nice. It’s a mix of [whatever scent you like, but it’s very specific. Weirdly specific].” 

You’re torn between being flattered, concerned about how descriptive he is, and laughing at the fantastic response. The Octavinelle dorm leader stares at the two of you horrified and wary. Floyd gleefully cackles beside you. 

“Jade is down bad, and Shrimpy is making the moves~! No wonder Azul’s terrified. He just gained another of us,” the chaotic twin crows, bumping into you. 

Floyd throws an arm around your shoulder. The twins squish you on either side. They tower above you with mischievous and deadly smiles.

“I hope you’re not leaving anytime soon. You’re too interesting and my brother likes you,” the basketball player sings, “If you try to escape, I’ll have to squeeze ya.” 

You smirk back, looping your arms around their backs. You pull them in. They lean down, excited by the impromptu team huddle. 

“You’re much more fun to work with than I thought. As long as we’re all in agreement, I’ll stick around as long as you like. Besides, Azul’s reactions are more than enough to get me to stay,” you say. 

You gesture at the lone Octavinelle sophomore. His eyebrows scrunch, attempting to factor your brand of insanity into his plans. The house warden notices your gazes and glares at the three of you. 

He pushes up his glasses and declares, “We have a coup to stop, business deals to make, and a mystery to solve. Let’s get going.” 

The octopus spins on his heels and stalks forward. The eels and you straighten to attention, falling into your roles. As you walk closer to the elaborate building, Azul relaxes into his usual over-the-top attitude. He glances behind and finds perfect and docile assistants. You hear a sigh of relief. 

Eventually, you’re close enough to hear the Scarabia students from last night’s fight. They took your advice and haven’t told anyone. Putting on your best acting face, you pretend to look at the Leech twins in fear. There’s a mirthful sparkle in Jade’s eye and Floyd is ecstatic to see what will happen. Without waiting, he shoves you forward. 

���Go and tell them what you need to, Shrimpy,” the embodiment of chaos elogates. 

His voice catches the residents’ attention. They stiffen at the sight of your quartet. You make your body small and unthreatening. You put your arms close to your chest, strengthening the effect. You spare the school mafia one more hesitant glance. 

Floyd urges you in a threatening tone, “Tell them what you need to and make it quick.”

He puts a hand on his other shoulder, tilting his head. He wears the disconcerting expression of a wild predator about to snap. 

“Be grateful we’re allowing you to do this much,” Jade chimes in with a similar grin.

You hurry to the beat-up students and start apologizing. 

“I’m so sorry for what happened yesterday. I was scared you would take Grim and me. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. The person I should be mad at is the one making you do these inhuman acts. However, I can’t help but feel there’s something wrong with Kalim. He’s usually so outgoing and kind,” you start.

“I want to help your dorm. I need to make up for what I did and leaving you all to endure this torture isn’t right. As someone who experienced it first-hand, I want to stop this. However, I paid a heavy price to get some help,” you lie.

You slightly gesture to the Octavinelle trio. Based on the Scarabia students’ expressions, the mobsters are as intimidating as ever. 

You plead your case, “I’m getting Azul and the twins to help me investigate, but we need to make sure our cover isn’t blown. Please pretend you didn’t see anything last night.” 

You give a strained smile before pulling out a healing potion and presenting it to the student you hurt. 

You bow. “Again, I’m sorry. Please accept this as part of my apology.” 

Your ploy works like spreading hot butter on toast. 

“We’ll keep quiet,” one of them assures, “Thank you for helping. You’re doing everyone a favor. There are no hard feelings about your attack.” 

“Now that you mention it, you were the one who helped solve the incident in Heartslabyul,” another points out. 

“Oh my god, they were! Didn’t they also solve the slavery issue in Octavinelle too?” someone asks. 

“That must be where they became in debt to them,” one individual surmises. 

They rally around you, buying into your lie and creating a story for you. They believe you’re a saint sent from the heavens. They don’t doubt your intentions at all. 

“If you need anything, let us know. We’ll support you to the best of our abilities,” the last reassures. 

You give a shaky and appreciative smile. “Thank you. I have one request. If something weird happens between the Octavinelle trio and me, it’s all part of the plan. I ask that you not to give anything away or oppose what’s happening.” 

The Scarabia students immediately agree when Azul cuts in. 

“[Y/N], we need to find Kalim,” he dictates. 

You pretend to jump. You wave to your new followers and scramble back to your party. When you turn your back to the fools, you smirk at your fellow tricksters. Jade sends an approving nod as Floyd gives a joyful grin. 

A familiar voice comes around the corner. 

“It’s almost time for morning training,” Jamil warns, “Kalim will lose it if you’re la—”

The vice leader stops upon seeing the out-of-place sea folk. He narrows his eyes. Before he can say anything, Azul gives a signature business greeting. 

“Jamil! Good morning. How are you on such a fine day?” he questions with a lavishing voice. 

The Scarabia vice leader stares with a slightly annoyed and skeptical frown.

“Azul Ashengrotten with the Leech Twins,” he addresses, before asking. “What are you doing here?”

You speak up, “I brought them.”

Jamil furrows his brows. “Why?”

You move, allowing him to see Grim and the magic carpet. The brunette’s eyes grow wide.

“The magic carpet escaped. Grim and I were able to grab it just before it took off. However, it ended up dragging us through the mirror and into Octavinelle. They insisted we stay the night and return it together,” you start. 

Azul seamlessly takes the baton and continues, “We want to personally deliver it to Kalim. It’s a national treasure. If someone were to find fault with it and claim it was Octavinelle’s fault, I’d have no end of trouble.” 

Jamil purses his lips. “Kalim doesn’t care about something like that. You can give it–” 

“--There’s no need for you to pay the 20% labor fee for returning a lost item,” the dorm leader adds.

The whole crew chips in. 

“We heard about your training and wanted to talk to Kalim about it,” Jade comments. 

“We also brought seafood pizza,” Floyd drawls with a grin. 

“And snacks!” Grim adds.

“Anyway, I’d like to hand this to him directly. I assume he’s awake?” Azul finishes. 

After being pelted with rapid-fire statements, Jamil closes his eyes and denies the request again. 

“I’m telling you he’s in a bad—Hey! You can’t just walk in here!“

Azul strides past the protesting Scarabia student. Your party follows the Octavinelle leader inside. 

—----------------

“The Ramshackle Prefect informed us you’re training over the winter holidays. The three of us happen to be stuck at school too. Isn’t this a perfect opportunity to deepen Octavinelle and Scarabia’s bonds through joint training?” Azul suggests to Kalim.

The sunshine student lights up. “That sounds like a great idea! I’d love to have you over!” 

Jamil cuts in with a harsh voice. 

“I’m against it. Octavinelle is a rival dorm. It would put us at a disadvantage if we let the enemy come in and learn our tricks,” he advises, crossing his arms.

The wealthy teen looks at his subordinate with a relaxed grin. 

“‘Enemy’ is a bit much. Besides, didn’t you invite the Ramshackle dorm?” the sophomore points out. 

Jamil purses his lips. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he admits, before turning a stern glare onto the mafia trio. “I’m saying this for you as well, Azul. I know how much you value your grades.” 

The businessman sighs, looking downcast. “I suppose you’re right. We should make our way back. Good luck with your training.” 

The three of them turn around solemnly. You know what the next step of the plan is. They’re going to make themselves look pitiful. However, that wouldn’t be any fun. You can’t wait to see Azul’s facial expression to your next surprise. 

“Wait!” You stop them in a heartfelt tone. 

The trio glances at you, but you’re already looking at Kalim. You have a pleading expression. 

“Kalim, I’m determined to stay here until the end of winter break. Grim and I were thrilled whenever Jamil invited us. We are often stuck alone in our dorm, isolated. Scarabia is so lively and we’ve made great friends. We want to foster those connections, but…” you trail off. 

You mentally steel yourself and look at Jade. In your peripheral vision, you watch Azul stiffen and clench his teeth. Floyd gives the widest grin you’ve ever seen and Jade stares in amusement. 

“I miss my boyfriend,” you finish. 

You barely save yourself from laughing by breaking eye contact with Octavinelle’s vice leader. 

You continue, rambling. “It’s ok if you can’t allow that–” 

“No!” Kalim shouts, “I cannot break up a couple like this! Azul is one of the best mages at this school. If we let them stay, Scarabia will benefit. I’d sully the Al-Asim name if I turned you all away. Plus, I have to know how you got together.” 

Jamil is too stunned to retort. There’s a brief moment of silence where typically Azul would speak up. However, he’s too busy containing his rage and annoyance to do anything. 

Jade replies, heading over to your side. “Kalim, thank you. I’ve missed my significant other dearly during this time. You’ve done us a great favor.” 

Azul gets his wits about him and puts on a business smile. It’s slightly taut, but he retains his drama and butters up the wealthy student. 

“Yes, you are a truly kind and warm-hearted person! I will teach you everything I know,” he promises. 

“Floyd and I are happy to assist with any cooking and cleaning,” Jade adds, snaking his arm around your waist. 

You catch Azul glaring at the action before covering it with an elegant smile. 

Floyd chips in. “Yeah, we’re old pros from working at the Lounge.” 

“That’ll be a great help! Jamil won’t have as much work anymore. He already does so much for me,” the embodiment of sunshine beams. 

Jamil speaks up with a calculated expression. 

“I don’t need any help, but I didn’t know you were together. When did you start dating?” the vice leader drawls.

“I want to know too! You have to tell us everything!” Kalim jumps in. 

He urges your party to sit. You move in tandem with your “boyfriend.” Sitting close together, Jade puts a hand behind you and leans into your figure. You copy his behavior and rest yourself on his shoulder. The Scarabia house warden squeals at your intimate position while Jamil narrows his eyes, skeptical. 

On Jade’s left is a smug Floyd. He looks at Jamil with a confident smirk. He knows the two of you won’t break. Next to him, Azul regrets his life choices and plots to kill the two of you in private. 

“How did you get together?” Kalim questions with twinkling eyes.

Jade chuckles, “I caught an interest in the prefect after Azul’s overblot. They were the mastermind behind his demise and I had to learn more. I ended up finding them in the greenhouse one day. We were both looking for the same ingredients for potions class. They asked me a few questions and I mentioned my terrariums. They were more enthusiastic than I expected, so I showed my hobby to them. [Y/N] wanted to help. I wasn’t opposed to the idea, so we spent time together. We bonded over shared interests.” 

Jamil interrupts, “I can’t see you dating just because of plants. What other interests do you share? The two of you are quite different.” 

Jade hums, placing his head on top of yours. You take the hint and nuzzle into him. 

“You’re right. We do enjoy more physical activities.” 

Azul squawks, his glasses going askew. Floyd cackles, clapping. Grim glances at you with a complicated and borderline disgusted expression. Jamil’s mouth falls open at the bold choice and Kalim fanboys. 

You scoff, lightly smacking your chosen eel. “You didn’t have to admit that.”

“I know you like it,” he replies. 

Kalim continues the interview. “Jade, what do you like most about [Y/N]?” 

He gives a thoughtful look.

“They’re unassuming at first glance, but they’re an incredible strategist and tactician. They’re unpredictable,” he details. 

Jamil hums, “So that’s why you’re interested.” 

He turns to you and provokes, “I suggest you don’t place all your hopes and dreams on him. You’re just a passing fancy.” 

Your eyes widen, genuinely offended. Jade grips your midsection and wraps his other arm across your torso. He keeps his ever-present smile, but it has a deadly edge. You lean into him.

Jade responds for both of you. 

“Nobody asked for your opinion,” he comments, before turning to you. “I want to know what you find attractive about me.” 

A silent understanding passes between the two of you. You want to distract Kalim from Jamil’s comment. The Scarabia vice leader is testing you, but you want to smooth this over. 

In the back of your mind, you think that this dating simulation is going well. You’ll have to continue it for a few more days to gain significant data. However, the odds tilt in Jade’s favor. 

“You’re rather gentlemanly,” you start, before glancing at him. 

You let your eyes wander his face, before going in for the kill. You make sure everyone in the room knows what you’re doing. Your gaze drops from his eyes to his mouth. It lingers for a long time. You tear your focus away and look at Kalim.

“More importantly, he’s interesting. He likes to go along with my plans and I have fun with him,” you say, before adding. “His teeth are just a bonus.” 

Azul jerks forward, having been metaphorically K.O.ed. He glares holes into both of you. You smirk. The businessman’s eyes widen, disturbed. 

You furrow your eyebrows. The sunshine child explains what happened, clapping his hands.

“The two of you are in sync! You made the same facial expression at Azul. You’re fated to be together!” he praises.

You look at your partner with a satisfied grin. The Scarabia vice leader interjects again, displeased.

“[Y/N] is fairly open. Was there any reason you hid your relationship?” he interrogates.

You’ve been waiting for the question.

“Yes,” you sigh, “We thought Azul would disapprove. I was the one who planned his downfall after all. Unfortunately, we were right about his reaction.”

The Octavinelle leader whips toward you, his mouth open and his eyes filled with fire. You ignore him, continuing.

“It all came out last night. Floyd caught us making out. We tried to stop him from telling Azul, but you know Floyd,” you say, giving a helpless smile. “I’m glad you allowed them to stay, Kalim. I worried Jade might get berated if I didn’t return with him. Thank you. We appreciate it.” 

“Anytime!” the Scarabia student waves you off. 

The businessman cuts in to defend his honor. 

“To be fair, I’m mostly shocked by your union,” he states, pushing up his glasses. “I just need time to process. I’ll get used to this new normal eventually.” 

Kalim cheers, “I’m glad Azul is coming around!” 

The sophomore in question scowls. From the corner of your eye, Jamil frowns. The vice leader doesn’t believe you and that’s fine. He won’t catch you or Jade slipping up.

—---------------

You continue the fake relationship for that day, avoiding Jamil’s attempts to prove your lie. That night, Azul almost strangles all of you for the stunt you pulled. You’re quick to distract him. Eventually, Jade and you find the culprit behind Kalim’s “mood swings.” From there, the five of you plan. 

—--------------

You walk with Azul and Grim to Kalim’s bedroom. It’s early in the morning. You want to wake him before his vice leader does.

Azul stops and looks at you. He searches your eyes with a neutral and serious face. 

“Are you playing with him?” he questions. 

You tilt your head with a smile. 

You shake your head. “I’m not, but it’s pretty cute you’re worried.” 

The businessman crosses his arms, giving a light glare. 

“I don’t want my best asset to decrease his productivity because he’s in a slump,” he argues, “He’s the one who deals with social interactions. If he’s not at peak performance, he can’t follow through with my schemes.” 

You give an unconvinced look but don’t push. Instead, you answer the question. 

“I am serious about him. My bold moves at the beginning were mostly tests,” you reveal.

The sophomore pauses, confused. “What?”

“When I suggested sleeping with him, I wanted to see if he would do anything inappropriate or cross any boundaries. I wondered how he would react in a domestic relationship. I got a satisfying answer,” you explain, “The fake dating ploy is to see how well we work as a team. I knew Jamil wouldn’t believe us, so this also gauges how dedicated he can be as my partner.

“I look at romantic relationships like a group project. Two people work toward a shared goal of staying together and supporting one another. Both sides have to put in work to maintain it. It’s efficient to put candidates through trials at the beginning. I don’t want to invest in a poor product,” you chuckle. 

Azul stares at you, mildly impressed. He pushes up his glasses.

“You’re smarter than I gave you credit for,” he comments, “I’m sure Jade has a long-standing interest in you as well.”

You beam, elated. The Octavinelle student shakes his head before walking forward. 

“We have a plan to dislodge,” he reminds you. 

“Indeed,” you chirp, skipping alongside him. 

The businessman sighs, resigned to his fate of you and Jade getting together. 

————————

Everyone stands outside the dorm in the scorching sun, listening to the Octavinelle trio. 

“Skirmishes are good exercise and help relieve stress,” Jade informs. 

Floyd pipes up with his signature elongated vocals. 

“I wanna go wild too! Someone come fight me!” He giggles.

You jump at the opportunity. 

“I want to,” you volunteer, running up. 

“Oooh, Shrimpy’s offering to wrestle with me! Yeah, I’ll do it,” the chaotic twin agrees, “One on one though.”

“Deal,” you grin. 

You look at the Octavinelle’s first and second in command. Azul purses his lips but shrugs, accepting your death, while Jade is amused. 

When you turn away, your fake boyfriend’s eyes narrow, cutting into his brother. It’s a warning. His counterpart laughs. 

“I won’t kill them, Jade. They’re too funny to cripple,” the chaotic twin reassures, throwing his hands up. “I know they’re yours.” 

You glance at the calmer eel. He has a small smile on his face like always. 

“Just be careful, pearl,” he cautions you.

You perk up at the new nickname and nod with a hum. 

“Thanks for looking out for me, sweetheart,” you reply. 

Jade’s eyes flash with satisfaction before returning to normal. 

He chuckles, “I’ll let you and Floyd have your fun. Azul and I will manage the rest of Scarabia.”

“Let’s go!” Floyd chirps, dragging you to a section of sand. 

You take off your shoes and socks, knowing you’ll have a better grip if you go barefoot. In typical Floyd fashion, there’s no start signal. He just runs at you. 

You bend your knees prepared to take him before faking out at the last minute. Wind rushes past you as he misses. However, Floyd’s reaction time is quick. He wheels around to snatch you. You duck and slip under his defenses. You punch into rock-solid abs. The hit doesn’t deter him. You leap back, creating distance and space.

It becomes a game of tag. You deftly dodge, trying to find a weakness, as the chaotic eel runs after you. However, Floyd’s attacks are so randomized, that it’s hard to deduce a pattern. 

Then, your feet slip underneath you. Your eyes widen as warm sand meets your calf. Your opponent materializes in front of you. He blocks the sun like a reaper in a Wild West movie. Floyd shoots toward you. You spray sand into his eyes. The eel jerks back, making an odd noise. It’s a cross between a screech and a groan. 

You take the opportunity to tackle him to the ground. Before you can lock him down, he gives a frenzied laugh. The chaotic twin pulls his knees to his chest and kicks you in the stomach. There’s a burst of light as you’re sent flying. You skid across the sand as Jade roars. 

“FLOYD!”

In moments, the vice leader is by your side. He drops to his knees, checking you over. 

“Are you ok?” Jade asks urgently, “Did you get hurt?” 

You blink and shake your head.

“My stomach hurts, but other than that I’m fine,” you respond.  

Your romantic interest flips your shirt up to look where his brother hit you. Your eyes widen at the brazen action. However, you sober up as you watch Jade’s worried expression. There’s a tinge of frantic concern in his eyes. There’s no visible wound on you.

“There might be some internal injury,” he murmurs to himself. 

Your eel’s hands clench in the sand as he recomposes himself. They’re on either side of you, protecting you from Floyd. You tilt your head and you glance up at the other eel. He gives a sheepish smile. 

With one hand behind his head, he apologizes. “Sorry, Shrimpy. I used magic on you.” 

He waves his magic pen for emphasis. The chaotic twin looks like he wants to come forward and check on you too, but he eyes Jade. He doesn’t move. Your eyes spark and you glance at your fake boyfriend. You’ve read about Moray Eels, they tend to be territorial. You’re glad he’s already so attached to you. It’s a good sign. Your brain kicks back into gear, thinking logically.

“You used magic on me?” you clarify, “I just felt you kick me. Was there supposed to be some other pain?” 

Jade looks up, confused. 

Floyd tilts his head. “Yeah, I threw an ice attack. Are you not cold?” 

You shake your head. 

“No, all I felt was your kick,” you answer. 

The quieter twin hovers over you with a thoughtful look. You stare at him before catching onto his thought process. You call out to the embodiment of chaos. 

“Floyd, can you hit me with that spell again?” you request. 

Jade flinches. He gives a tight and displeased smile. You lean toward him and place a hand on his shoulder. 

“If I can nullify magic, then I can help you more,” you reason, “If Floyd hurts me, you’ll avenge me.” 

The eel’s mouth twitches upward. 

“I’ll be doing that anyway,” he responds. 

“That’s one of the things I love about you,” you chirp. 

You watch Jade’s breath hitch at the word “love.” However, he regains his composure in an instant. He stands up, offering you a hand. 

As the vice leader pulls up you, he instructs Floyd, “Let’s go somewhere a little more private.” 

The three of you move to a more secluded area to test your unexpected constitution.

—--------

After experimenting, Jade ushers you back to change. 

You meet in your shared bedroom again once you’re dressed in your typical outfits. In an instant, he’s all over you. He guides you backward until your knees hit the bed. You voluntarily sit down, looking up at him. The eel takes a moment to admire you in that position. Then, he loops his arms under yours and drags you into the middle of the bed. The vice leader drops beside you, pressing himself against you. 

“Please don’t do that again,” Jade requests, wrapping his arm around you. “Even though we found out vital information, I’m still going to have a long chat with Floyd.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s the code word for beating him up.” 

The vice leader grins. “You know me so well, darling.”

You smirk before relaxing into his hold and staring at him. You take in his mismatched olive-brown and yellow eyes. The ones that turn up at the edges. Despite being in his dorm uniform, he’s ditched the hat on the side table. The one strand of black hair threatens to fall on his face. You catch him lingering on your lips. You smile.

“Once this is all over, will you be my boyfriend?” You ask while tucking the hair behind his ear. 

“Why wait?” Jade questions, pulling you closer.

“Think of Jamil’s reaction upon learning he’s why we got together. We’ll have a dramatic confession in front of everyone,” you respond, “Azul will be horrified.”

Jade responds with a shark tooth grin. 

He hums, “Yes, your plans are thrilling. However, as your fake boyfriend, I deserve some kind of reward for caring about you.”

“Of course.” You lean in to peck him on the lips.

Jade swoops in to deepen it but you slip your hand between you. 

“Not until the grand reveal,” you tell him with a smirk.

He chuckles, amused. “Alright, but I can still do this.”

He nips your fingertips, snatching your hand and kissing the inside of your wrist. Your eyes widen and you feel your pupils dilate. Jade smirks, snaking to your neck. He pries open your collar with his teeth and latches onto your flesh. 

You jolt at the slippery sensation. He moves on top of you to get a better angle. He slips his arms under you, trapping you. You don’t mind. The eel kisses and sucks the hollow of your neck and collarbone. You tilt your head to maximize Jade’s access. You feel him grin, tightening his hold. 

You bathe in the pleasure and let your hands wander along his back. You run your fingers through his hair. The eel hums, confirming he likes the feeling. You feel a little mischievous and give a sharp tug. A puff of hot air hits your neck in surprise. It makes you shiver.

He bites down, hard. You yelp, gripping onto him. You feel his teeth break into your skin. The vice leader swirls his tongue along the wound, lapping the blood. You stifle a moan. The man perks up at the noise. He moves up your neck, kissing it gently. 

“You don’t have to hold back,” Jade purrs. 

You pant, trying to reign in your reactions. 

“What fun would that be?” You retort.

He huffs out a laugh, blowing on the shell of your ear. 

“I’d be delighted to slowly break you, my dear,” your soon-to-be lover whispers. 

You feel your ears and face grow hot from the action as you resist arching into him. You palm his jacket, trying to find something to ground you. 

“That sounds nice,” you admit. 

Jade is right next to your face, nuzzling it. You can’t hold back. You turn to kiss him when a hand blocks you.

“We have to wait until the grand reveal,” he teases. 

You cackle, flipping him over. He allows himself to follow your movements, gazing up at you with satisfied eyes. 

“You’re perfect,” you tell him.

“You are too,” Jade answers softly.

You gaze at him for a moment, basking in the moment. You peck his lips and move to climb off when you realize something.

“I should mark you too,” you comment before launching an attack. 

He chuckles, shaking his head as you return the favor. 

————————

You and Jade walk into the common room. Azul is sipping water when he spots you. His eyes widen and he sprays liquid all over Jamil. He chokes. The Scarabia vice leader shouts in disgust and looks in your direction. He immediately covers Kalim’s eyes. Floyd laughs so hard, he has to lie down. Grim looks at you in surprise before pursing his lips and reluctantly accepting. You have an inkling it’s because if you date Jade, he’ll get free food from Monstro Lounge.

“Jamil, why are you covering my eyes?” Kalim questions innocently. 

“It‘s debauched,” he answered, numb.

Azul yells at the two of you, “It’s 2:30!”

“Do you want us to do it in front of you?” You ask. 

The Octavinelle leader suffocates on his spit, shaking in rage and embarrassment. You give a full-force grin. You have no doubt Jade is doing the same. 

“We missed lunch. Do you have anything left?” Jade questions. 

You cut in with a skeptical hum. “I wouldn’t say that. We just had dessert first.” 

Floyd screeches in delight. Azul takes off his glasses and covers his face. Jamil stays frozen, disassociating from this unwanted scene. Grim’s nose crinkles in disgust. He crosses his arms and looks away. You can practically hear the mantra he repeats about free food. 

“What’s happening?” Kalim asks, pushing his vice leader’s hands off his face. 

Jamil doesn’t resist. The sunshine student spots you and grins. 

“It’s so nice to see you guys so open about your love for each other! I’m glad you’re so confident in your relationship,” he compliments cheerfully. 

You withhold a snort. Thankfully, Jade responds for you. 

“Thank you for your blessing, Kalim,” he replies before spotting some extra food and guiding you over. 

You scarf down a bowl of soup. Jade watches in amusement, as he eats slower. Then you watch Jamil and Azul head off together. It’s time to enact the plan. 

—--------------

Your party stands before Jamil with all of Scarabia behind you. The vice leader of Scarabia starts to lose it. 

“Me, my family… I don’t care what happens to any of it!” Jamil screams, before encanting. “The one you see before you is your master…” 

Your hackles rise but you don’t do anything. You don’t want to let on about your nullification ability. 

Jamil continues, “Answer when spoken to, lower your head when ordered, Snake Whisper!” 

A giant ripple of magic resounds through the dorm. It permeates every space, crevice, and crack. The vulnerable Scarabia students cow under the pressure of magical power. 

“Is—Is he trying to brainwash the entire dorm?!” Azul shouts in disbelief. 

Your eyes widen. You sprint toward Jamil, aiming for a weak point. Without flinching, he single-handedly takes you down, bellowing an order. 

“Take Kalim, Octavinelle, and Grim and kick them to the curb!” he dictates, “I’ll handle this one.” 

You cry out, as he twists your arm behind your back and presses down. 

“[Y/N]!”

“Shrimpy!”

“Henchman!” 

Then, your friends get accosted by Scarabia students. 

Jamil taunts Jade, “I’ll take good care of your princess for you.”

The eel sends him a glare before tearing through Scarabia students. 

Floyd growls, complaining, “These guys keep getting up no matter how much I squeeze them. They’re zombies.”

Amid the pandemonium, Kalim cries out to his childhood companion. 

“Jamil, stop already, I get it! You can be the dorm head and I’ll go home!” he begs.

Your eyes widen. That was a bad response. You glance up at the vice leader. When you see his face, you purse your lips. He’s about to overblot and you’re pinned beneath him. 

You take a deep breath and exhale through your mouth. Your heart pounds in your chest and your mind races. You’ve witnessed many overblots, but you’ve never been this close to one that’s about to happen. 

Logically, you know you’ll be safe from his magic, but it doesn’t make you feel better. You’re about to be locked up without any of your friends. You’ll be stuck with an unpredictable power-crazed maniac. 

You hear Jade speaking and you glance up at him. His eyes continuously flicker to you as he demolishes Jamil’s thralls. You reply with a strained and helpless dry laugh. His eyebrows furrow. He pushes himself harder. 

Your face drops when Jamil screams again. Your whole body tightens as you brace yourself for the transformation. The first thing you feel is sticky ink on your arm. You flinch at the sensation, cringing. 

Jade yells your name, panicked. Even through the crackle of magic, you hear him push and slam into people, trying to get to you. The air becomes more dense around you. You’re not affected by it but Jamil’s presence is enough to intimidate anyone. 

“You’re coming to save your lover? How amusing. I never like Kalim’s version of love anyway. He seems too invested in your fake love story. I’ll take [Y/N] for myself. I’m sure they’ll be a wonderful pet,” the overblot student provokes. 

You grit your teeth as rage flares in your eyes. He dares to call you a pet? When you have the chance, you’ll stab him in the back. You’ll take the time to set it up. You’ve become good at revenge plans since teaming up with Octavinelle. 

Jamil tosses you to the side, ordering a group of Scarabia students, “Take and restrain [Y/N].”

They grip you and you don’t attempt to resist. You stare straight at Jade with an annoyed and irritated look, signaling your intent for revenge. The eel raises an eyebrow. He’s still concerned and worried, but your expression relieves him of some of his worries. 

Jamil floats to the group before launching them into the sky with a huge show of power. 

“Jade!” You scream, horrified. 

They fade to nothing more than a dot in the sky. 

You take a deep breath. They’ll be fine. So far you’ve been lucky with these overblots. Everyone’s made it out ok. You pray it’s the same this time. 

You refocus on Jamil. Now, you must collect data, plan this man’s demise, and act. 

—--------------

The Scarabia students dress you in a tight, red crop top with matching harem pants. You’re accessorized in gold and a blue, almost transparent, scarf is wrapped around your shoulders and over your head. They lead you back to the common area. Jamil is sitting there in all his glory. His thralls cater food, fan him, and praise his excellence. When Jamil spots you, he smirks, gesturing for you to come over. 

You know how you need to act. The key was not laughing. During the past few days, you’ve become proficient in that skill. You hope your training doesn’t go to waste. 

Your guards escort you to him before backing off. You don an innocent and docile air. You tentatively lower yourself on the floor. 

“Thank you, Master Jamil,” you state. 

The Scarabia student’s eyes widen before a large smirk forms on his face. He leans forward, tipping your chin up. You comply with large, doe eyes. 

“It doesn’t look like you’re very loyal to your lover, [Y/N],” he comments. 

You lean forward with a worshipping gaze. You keep eye contact as you speak earnestly. 

“Master Jamil, you saved my life,” you lie, “I’ve been in debt to Octavinelle for a while. When they found out about Scarabia’s situation, they wanted to investigate. They forced me to follow their plans.” 

The Scarabia student raises an eyebrow. A look of satisfaction passes over his face. 

“I’m glad I was right,” he murmurs.

Internally, you laugh. Jamil just wants to be right. All you’re doing is feeding into his fantasy. As long as you tell him what he wants to hear, he’ll be none the wiser. 

His thumb moves across your cheek and you lean into it. Jamil’s eyes spark at the action. 

The man gave you a fantastic opportunity to make more contact. You need to be close to follow through with the plan. Internally, you chuckle. When you defeat the Scarabia vice leader, you’ll be sure to punish him most uniquely. 

—--------

You sit in Jamil’s lap, feeding him grapes. You giggle and play with his snake hair. The little creatures gained a liking to you. It solidified your thoughts that he’s a blindsighted fool. 

A lively and energetic voice bounces off the walls. 

“Jamil! You’re a cowardly traitor and I’m going to punch you!” Kalim yells.

You withhold your snort at the brazen declaration. It fits the true house warden well. You look over and find Jade. You give a wink. He keeps a straight face but there’s a look of relief. However, his eyes darken at your position. 

From beside you, Jamil is stunned. In a scratchy, otherworldly voice the overblot student speaks. Making sure he can’t see, you make a disgusted face. Jade looks placated for now. 

“I threw you so far into the desert. How did you get here so fast?” Jamil interrogates.

Azul speaks up. “Kalim used his unique magic, Oasis Maker, to refill a dried-up river. Jade and Floyd swam us here.”

Jamil sneers, “I thought Kalim’s unique Magic was nothing more than a way to splish-splash in a kitty pool. Who knew you would muster the power to fill a river?”

“I’m here to challenge you as the house warden!” The boy in question declares.

“No, I am the rightful leader of Scarabia. I’m much better than you’ve ever been,” Jamil states before getting up from his seat with you in his arms. 

You fake a small swoon and wrap your arms around his neck. He moves to deposit you a little ways away behind him. 

“Don’t worry, pet. I’ll exterminate these pests and be back,” the overblot student reassures. 

You nod submissively.

Jamil turns and flies at your companions. From behind him, you gag, dusting off wherever he touched you. 

“Your lover doesn’t like you, Jade. They’re rather pliant in my hands,” the Scarabia student snarks. 

Your eyes blaze with fire at the comment. The eel’s face tightens. 

With his ever-present calm and polite smile, Jade replies, “I’m sure [Y/N] will see reason when we defeat you.” 

“That won’t happen,” Jamil snorts, before blasting your friends with bloody burgundy magic. 

Light flashes across the room as the ink behind Jamil gathers. A towering humanoid snake rises from the liquid. Its face is a broken, leaking ink bottle with a massive Sultan headpiece. On the wrists are two matching golden cuffs. It’s his overblot monster. This is what the group needs to target. They have to break the glass. 

Carefully moving to the side where neither Jamil nor the entity can see you, you start giving hand gestures. The first one you give is putting an index finger to your mouth. Grim looks straight at you, confused. Thankfully your soon-to-be boyfriend moves to block your cat’s line of sight and kicks him. Your familiar gets the hint. 

Surprisingly, Kalim notices you but doesn’t give anything away. Floyd is on the same page. Everyone makes sure to not look at you directly or at least simultaneously. You begin miming your plan. 

When you finish, you see a spark of an idea in Kalim’s eyes. You raise an eyebrow. It looks like he’s planning something. However, none of the Octavinelle students can see it. You don’t mind altering your plans. You’re curious. 

You creep up on Jamil, coming behind the monster. You plan to dash past. You lower yourself into a sprinting position and wait.

Kalim takes a deep breath and nods. You take your cue and sprint. 

The white-haired boy shouts, “Do you know how this will affect your family?!”

Jamil stops casting, choking in rage. 

You leap, latching onto his head. All of his magic stops as you cover his eyes. Restraining his snake hair, your legs wrap around his waist. Jade dashes up, spins, and delivers a roundhouse kick to the side of his jaw. 

Jamil falls, unconscious. Jade catches you as the monster roars. 

The sound is cut off by shattering glass. Ink gushes from the creature’s face. It crumples and disintegrates to mist. 

You glance back. Kalim is standing there with his staff raised. He stays in that position, frozen.

The air clears to reveal the night sky again. The other Scarabia students are still knocked out from the amount of mind control power Jamil used on them. 

Kalim hiccups and collapses to the ground, sobbing. 

You give a sad smile. Standing up, you walk over to him and put a hand on his back. 

“Nice thinking, Kalim,” you tell him, “You gave us the opening we needed.” 

The crying student looks up at you. 

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know he felt that way about me!” the Scarabia leader wails, “I didn’t want to say that to him either.” 

Your eyes widen, not knowing how to deal with this. Then, you spot your out. 

You swoop Grim into your arms and carry him over to Kalim. 

“You better act like a good stuffed animal,” you tell him, “We both don’t know how to help crying people, but you’re much more huggable than I am.” 

Your cat is about to thrash at you before you add, “I can get you seven cans of tuna for free because I’m about to date Jade.” 

Your companion stills. 

“If you throw me to Floyd again, that promise doubles,” he conditions. 

“Ok,” you comply. 

You can use his wording against him. He didn’t stipulate if Floyd caught him on his own. Your cat needs to learn that to live with this crew. 

You deposit Grim in front of Kalim, who asks if he can hug him. 

“That’s what I’m here for. Just don’t get snot on me,” your magical creature huffs. 

The wealthy sophomore clutches onto him and weeps. You chuckle, watching the life get squeezed out of your familiar. 

You head to the Octavinelle trio. 

Before you can say anything, Jade reels you into him. He holds you close. You can feel his breath on your cheek. Beads of sweat drip down his face. You know he wants to kiss you, but he’s too committed to your upcoming stunt. Instead, he rips off the scarf and traces the hickeys he left. 

Azul groans, “Not again.” 

Floyd nudges Jamil with his foot. “When’s he going to wake up?” 

The Scarabia vice leader responds, moaning in pain. Kalim shoots up from the floor and rushes to his side, balling. 

The wealthy student is almost incoherent, babbling something about Jamil being alive. He helps the overblotted student sit up. The bruised and beat-up sophomore puts a hand on his chin.

“Who hit me?” he questions. 

“I did. I also want to thank you,” Jade answers.

Jamil’s eyebrows furrow. 

“For what?” he asks. 

The eel ignores him, turning to you with a smile. He takes your hand. 

“[Y/N], ever since you flew into Monstro Lounge three nights ago and pummeled that one student, I’ve been enchanted by you. From your bold declaration to sleep with me on the first night—“

“—You did what?” Jamil interjects, horrified.

Jade ignores him. “—to your fake dating scheme. They’ve been some of the most memorable moments of my life. Will you be my girlfriend?” 

Azul lets out a sigh of relief, “Thank god, I thought you were going to ask them to marry you.” 

You get an idea. 

“Of course, Jade. I’ve always thought you were interesting. When we interacted before Azul’s overblot, you fascinated me. However, it wasn’t until Jamil’s shenanigans that we connected on a deeper level.” 

You let the sexual insinuation sit for a moment. Jamil gags. You glance at Floyd with a smirk. That was the exact reaction you wanted from him 

“You should force him to watch this entire thing. Jamil deserves to be punished for his overblot. It’s not violent, so this is a perfect way,” you suggest with a sweet smile. 

The chaotical entity bounces on the balls of his feet and zooms at the offered target. 

Jamil grunts as Floyd catches him in a chokehold and forces his eyes open. The eel cackles directly into his ear, causing the vice leader to wince at the volume. 

“Shrimpy’s ideas are the best! You should team up with Azul to make even more hilarious schemes,” he chortles beside the Scarabia student’s face. 

You grin and turn back to your lover. 

“It’s all thanks to Jamil that we’re together. I love that we’re on the same page. I love how dedicated you are to our relationship (and schemes, you internally add, knowing he’ll come to the same conclusion). I love your willingness to try new things. In light of that…” 

You get down on one knee. 

Keeping your eyes on Jade, you hold your hand face up and demand, “Kalim, give me your ring bracelet. I’ll return it after I get a formal ring.” 

You hear an excited gasp and the jangling of metal. 

“Kalim,” Jamil complains, trying to caution him. 

There’s a hitch in his breath. 

“Let [Y/N] and my brother have their moment, Sea Snake~” Floyd sings, tightening his hold. 

From the corner of your eye, Azul grips his hair. 

“I hate both of you,” the dorm leader hisses.

Without missing a beat, you add. “You’ll be catering the event.” 

The businessman pauses. He straightens up, pushing up his glasses.

“I suppose that’s fine,” he concedes, “The wedding business is incredibly lucrative. The price increases if you put the word “wedding” before it.” 

Kalim claps his hands. 

“I’m glad Azul has finally accepted the two of you,” he cheers, before depositing the requested item in your hands. 

You take it. 

Looking up at Jade, you hold in a burst of laughter at the absurd situation. 

“Jade, will you marry me?” You ask. 

“Yes, my pearl.” 

You quickly slip the jewelry on before jumping him. You make a big show of making out. 

In the background, you hear Jamil protesting as Floyd giggles. You feel your fiance’s sharp teeth as his mouth forms into a grin. After about thirty seconds of twisting tongues, you release your hold. With red lips, you turn to Jamil. 

“You’ll be our guest of honor,” you tell him. 

He glares at you before Grim speaks up. 

“The only reason I’m agreeing is because I get free food from Monstro Lounge,” he states, crossing his arms. 

Azul is about to protest when Jade cuts in. 

“I can make that happen,” he confirms. 

You raise an eyebrow with an amused smirk. “You’re already sucking up to the in-laws.” 

He pecks you again. “You’ve successfully gained my brother’s favor. I’m only repaying the favor.”

“This is why I love you,” you sigh, smiling content.

“I love you too,” Jade replies.

————————

“Now, you may kiss,” the officiant declares. 

A cheer goes up as Jade grabs your waist and dips you. He catches your lips with his teeth. Jade lets go of the teasing bite to actually kiss you. He pulls you up, still holding on. You smirk and lean into him, recalling the last time you pulled this stunt. You kiss long enough for people to become uncomfortable. It was the trick from when you proposed after Jamil’s overblot.

In the audience, Jamil states, “I’m getting flashbacks.”

“It’s just like old times!” Kalim cries.

“You mean the lowest point of my life? Floyd forced me to watch them make out. I do not want to see it twice,” he retorts. 

You pick up more ambient chatter.

From the Ignihyde dorm, the in-person and shivering Idia asks, “Ortho, can we go now?” 

“We need to stick around a little longer. They’ve helped us out and they play video games with you.”

There’s a deep, heavy sigh before a familiar flourish of words overpowers it. 

“Beau! This is a gorgeous and fantastic match. The Trickster and Monsieur Mastermind. They’re truly a plotting and mischievous duo. I have no doubt their married life will continue to flower with time!”

“Rook, [Y/N] asked you to take their wedding photos. Why are you still sitting here?” Vil questions.

“I already took them!”

“…Why am I not surprised? Epel, did you steal food from the buffet table and bring it inside?”

A muffled voice responds, “…You’re not my dorm leader anymore.”

“Oh? So you think you can just get away with it?” Vil sasses. 

“Wow, they’re so cute! It’s a picture-perfect moment and they’re holding their pose. I can get in a lot of good shots,” Cater squeals.

“Trey, what flavor of cake did they order?” The former Heartslabyul leader asks. 

“The standard chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. Each tier has a different flavor. However, they had an interesting request. They want me to use Doodle Suit on a few people’s slices.”

“That sounds like them,” Leona butts in, “They’re always up to something. Even now.” 

“Shi-shi-shi,” Ruggie laughs, “They match each other perfectly—Oh, look, Jack’s uncomfortable. That means they’ll end soon.”

“Human rituals are so interesting,” Malleus observes, “It’s fascinating to watch one up close. Although, Silver is missing out.” 

“I’m sure he’ll see many more,” Lilia waves off, “I’m excited when they ask for my assistance again. They have a great sense of humor.”

Then your cue was given.

“CEASE THIS TOMFOOLERY THIS INSTANT! ITS UNDIGNIFIED AND YOURE SULLYING MALLEUS’ EYES!!” Sebek shouts, shooting up from his seat. 

The two of you break away with matching grins. 

From the audience, the green-haired man stands stunned that his demands were answered. Lilia cackles and pulls him down as Silver’s eyes blearily open. 

Azul comments beside your husband, “Sometimes I wonder why we’re friends and then I remember how much money you make me.”

Floyd whines, “I’m sad it wasn’t more interesting. You’ve already used that trick before.”

“The night isn’t over yet. There will be more,” Jade replies with a smirk. 

The other eel perks up. 

From behind you, Deuce pipes up.

“Sebek could’ve come in sooner,” he sighs.

“I’m not surprised he didn’t realize he needed to yell,” Ace snorts next to him, “He’s as dense as a brick.”

“Henchman! I want food!!” Grim demands. 

You laugh and follow his orders, hand in hand with your husband. 

[nevereclipse]

Dumb Girl

Pairing: Tony Stark x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Genre: Smut

Requested: nope, this is purely self-indulgent.

Summary: Overwhelmed with work and stressed, you go to your boyfriend to clear your head. He empties it in the way only he knows how.

Warnings: dark!tony if you squint, degradation, praise, dumbification, mentions of reader being overwhelmed (not in a sexy way), daddy kink, plot what plot, thigh riding, rough sex, raw p in v (wrap it up folks), oral (fem receiving), dom/sub undertones, dirty talk (tony can't stfu up), lotssss of pet names, reader is v tired, but still enthusiastically consents, take that as you will. not proof read!

A/N: fun fact, i couldn't decide if i wanted to write this with tony or bucky, but i decided if fit tony's character better. this is pure filth lol.

--

You felt like shit. Your mind was running at a million miles an hour, yet somehow you couldn't grasp onto a single thought. Everything was painful, and slightly out of reach. You had a thousand things to do, all equally important, and no time to do any one them.

You needed a break. You'd only left work after one of your co-workers forced you too, and you'd fully intended to keep working when you got back home, until you'd gotten in the car and run 2 red lights accidently because you were so tired. You rubbed your eyes, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt. It was after 10pm by the time you got into the door.

You kicked your heels off in the doorway. Tony always hated it when you did that, but you really couldn't be fucked to fix it. You just wanted it all to be quiet and go away. You smiled when you saw the light in your bedroom was still on. Tony must still be awake.

"Sweetheart? That you?" Tony called from your bedroom.

"Yeah," you called back, "I'll be in in a sec." You paused for a moment, running a hand down your face. Your brain still wouldn't shut up, and the moment you got into your bedroom, you crawled into Tony's arms.

One hand settled on your hip instinctively, thumbing rubbing against the bone, and the other found your hair. Tony didn't say anything, letting you bury your face in his neck. It wasn't uncommon for you to greet him this way, especially not after a long day, so he let you sit quietly for a moment, pressing the occasional kiss into your hair.

It was only when you sat there for over 5 minutes that Tony finally frowned and asked, "You okay, sweetheart?"

"It hurts," you groaned, burying your face in the crook of Tony's neck. He tensed instantly, pulling you back just enough that he could scan you for injuries.

"What hurts? Are you okay? Did someone say something? Do something?" Tony's questions came out rapid fire, assessing you for any possible damage. Always the protector. He scanned your face, taking in your tired eyes and slightly smeared makeup.

"My brain won't shut up." You said, frustration dripping from your words. "I've got so much to do, and the time and energy to do none of it."

Tony tsk'd. "Ah, honey." He pulled you closer, hand pressing soothing pressure onto the back of your neck. "What do you need?"

You looked up at him, lips pouted, and kissed him. It was a little forceful, and messy, but Tony took it in stride, returning the kiss until you pulled back and said, "I need you to make it stop."

Tony frowned for a second, about to tell you why he couldn't, before meaning clicked. His eyes darkened, and when he spoke, his tone was hard and low.

"FRIDAY, lock the door."

"Yes, Mr. Stark."

You grinned. You were about to thank Tony, but you didn't get the chance before his lips were on you okay. He slid the hand on your neck up and into your hair, tugging not-so-gently at the strands at the base of your neck. His kissed you, mouth open and hot, tongue darting to flick against your lips. You opened your mouth in response, sinking into this kiss, and moaned when you felt Tony's tongue against yours. His free hand wandered over your body, skirting between your hip and pulling you closer. You couldn't help but grind down slightly, perfectly positioned from where you straddled him.

"My girl need to turn her brain off for a bit, hmm?" Tony said, pulling back. He slid both hands to your hips, forcing them to keep moving.

"Y-yeah," you stuttered as Tony positioned you so your clit pressed hard against his thigh.

"Look at you, already stumbling over your words." Tony chuckled as he watched your cheeks heat. "My dumb girl. Can't think 'bout anything once she starts getting wet, can she?" Again, he chuckled, not expecting an answer. He stayed like that for a moment, gently grinding you against his thigh as your pants started to fill the room. He could feel himself beneath his pants, aching and hard.

"Alright, this, off." He pulled your shirt up and over your head without much fuss, everything else following quickly. Tony leaned in and kissed your neck, his lips open and leaving saliva and little red marks smeared across your skin. His tongue darted out to ease the pain of one of the marks, and you moaned. At some point in his attack on your neck, you'd stopped grinding against his thigh, and he tutted.

"Did I say you could stop?" He asked, hands snaking up your body to fondle your breasts.

You gasped when he pinched a nipple. "N-no.."

"No, what?" Tony asked, biting just above your collarbone for emphasis.

"No, daddy." You just forced the words out, your rational thought already slipping away from you.

"Atta girl." Tony hummed. "You know the rules, babygirl. You don't do anything, or stop doin' anything, unless daddy says so. Right?"

"Uh-huh..." you whimpered.

"And why's that, baby?" Tony asked, sucking just above your right nipple. You could barely think through the pleasure, but, you supposed, that had been the point.

"Cause- cause..." you struggled to get the words out.

"Cause... cause..." Tony repeated, his tone mocking, "Cause why, baby?"

"Cause 'm too dumb," You finally got the words out, rutting against Tony's clothed thigh. Your soaked cunt was leaving wet marks on his pajamas.

"That's right, sweetheart. You're my dumb girl, yeah."

You nodded, too focused on the feeling of your clit gliding against Tony's muscled thigh. You started moving your hips faster, vaguely aware of the high, pathetic whines that where leaving your mouth. Tony watched for a moment, guiding you listlessly with your hips, before reaching up and wrapping on hand around your throat, and bringing you into another sloppy kiss.

He moaned into your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. The combination of the friction against your pussy and his hand around your throat had your orgasm building rapidly.

"Gonna- gonna-," That was all you managed to get out, but it was all you needed.

"Aw," Tony hummed, "Do you wanna cum?" He asked.

You nodded desperately, "Please, daddy."

"Not yet, babygirl."

Tony pushed you off him, roughly pulling you towards the edge of the bed. With one hand on each thigh, he forced your legs apart and sunk down to his knees. "You're not gonna cum unless it's with my mouth on you, yeah?"

"Yeah- yeah."

"Look at you," Tony cooed, swiping a finger through your soaked folds, "So fuckin' wet. All desperate and whiny, too. D'you like it when I call you out for being fucking stupid?" Tony asked, teasing his thumb around your clit. You struggled to get a word out, and Tony quickly retracted his touch. "Uh-uh. Answer me, baby."

"Yes! Yes! I like it," you answered quickly, desperate for Tony to keep touching you.

"There ya go," he said, resuming his feather-light touches on your cunt. They weren't enough. "I haven't fucked you completely speechless yet. Don't worry, sweetheart, there's still time."

With that, Tony pressed a quick kiss against your mound, before sucking your clit into his mouth. He ate you out like a man starved, alternating between licking long strokes up your folds, probing at your hole with his tongue, and grazing his teeth or nose against your clit. You were pretty sure you blacked out at one point, all your stresses and thoughts floating away into a void of pleasure. You reached on hand up and toyed with your tits, until you were a writhing mess on the bed.

Tony looked up at you for a moment, your slick coating his goatee, and grinned. "Listen to you, mewling like a desperate slut," he mocked. You tried to answer, but he plunged two fingers into you and your words were cut off by a choked moan.

"No, no, baby girl, you know the rules. Stupid girls like you can't speak, can they?" There was a harsh edge to Tony's voice. "That's why you've got me, right? To do all the speaking and thinking for you? It's too much for your dumb little brain to comprehend."

You nodded, babbling out a string of incoherent yesses.

"Thought so." Tony lowered his head again then, pumping two fingers inside you as he licked and sucked at your clit. You felt your orgasm rapidly approaching, and you hips flew off the bed as you arched into Tony's touch.

"Gonna cum-!" You cried. Tony was relentless, only pausing for a second to nod his permission. You screamed as you came, and Tony didn't stop, working you through to the ends of your orgasm. When he pulled back, his fingers were slippery and coated in you.

"Sound so pretty when you scream like that, baby," He whispered, pushing himself up on top of the bed. You didn't know when, to braindead to pay attention, but he'd somehow managed to rid himself of his clothes. He crawled forward till he lay on top of you and kissed you. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

When he pulled back, he brought his fingers up for you to inspect. "Look at the mess you made," he hummed, pressing those two fingers against your lips. "Better clean it up for me."

You sucked his fingers eagerly into your mouth, tongue swirling around the digits as you sucked your self off them. As you sucked, Tony lined his now-aching cock up with your entrance.

"God," he muttered, "You look so perfect like this. All braindead and stupid. Why can't you just stay like this all the time?" He asked, stroking his head between your sensitive folds. You twitched, over stimulated.

"Daddy- can't..." You whimpered, shaking your head slightly. Your legs were still shaking, your brain blissfully empty. Finally.

"Uh-uh," Tony said, fondly brushing the hair from your face, "I thought we'd established you were too stupid to make decisions for yourself, hmm? Isn't that right?"

"I-... I..." He was right. You could barely speak.

"I said, 'isn't that right?'" Tony repeated, pushing just slightly into you for good measure.

"Yes," you moaned, "'M too stupid..."

"And you need daddy to think for you, right?" Tony pushed into you slowly, sinking into your cunt to the hilt. You moaned loudly, too focused on the feeling of his cock inside you to think properly. He thrusted slowly and languidly, not in any real rush.

"Yeah, need... need daddy to think for me." You babbled obediently, clawing at Tony's back to get him to move faster. He didn't, continuing to thrust painfully slowly.

"I mean, how can you be trusted to think for yourself?" Tony mocked, watching you gasp and writhe beneath him, "One orgasm and you turn into a braindead cock whore."

You nodded your agreement, moaning loudly as one of Tony's thrusts hit just the right spot inside you. Something in the moan must've made him snap, because suddenly he was thrusting into you quickly and ruthlessly, each snap of his hits forcing his cock against your g-spot.

"Ah!" You cried out, eyes drifting shut for a moment before you focused back in on Tony's face. He was smirking down at you, one hand on your hips to steady himself, and the other rubbing gently against your clit. You mouth hung open, whimpers and moans falling out. You could feel saliva pooling and starting to drip down onto your chest. You must've looked completely fucked out.

"That's it, babygirl," Tony grinned, "Good girl. Give in to it, you know you love it. My perfect dumb girl."

You clenched around Tony at that, the combination of his degrading words and perfect touch bringing you right to the edge of a second orgasm. Tony's orgasm was approaching as fast as yours, you could tell from the way his thrusts got sloppier and his teasing words started to drop out.

"Cum with me, sweetheart," he managed, before he spilled inside of you. You came with a cry, walls fluttering around Tony's cock. His thrusts stuttered, then slow, but he didn't stop fucking his cum back inside of you for another few minutes.

You blinked blearily, only slightly more aware than before, as Tony, sweaty and smelling like sex, collapsed on top of you. He pulled out slowly, tugging you against him. Your brain still moved slowly, only half registering what was going on. After a moment, you registered Tony walking back towards you with a damp towel. When had he left the room? He cleaned between your legs gently, murmuring affirming words about how good you were under his breath. at some point, he wrestled you into one of his AC/DC shirts.

You didn't fuck again till much later, but he didn't let you think again for the rest of the night.

fin.

hope you enjoyed!! feedback is fuel <33

[vamptizm]

i. MISSION JEALOUSY — p. bueckers.

pairing : paige bueckers x clover amar (oc)

synopsis : in which paige bueckers and clover amar, two uconn wbb stars, have an ongoing mission of making each other jealous and outdoing the other.

warnings : cuss words. sexual innuendos. no smut yet.

word count : 2.3k

note : i’m honestly only writing it as an oc because its easier to do for me, but you can use this as an x reader fic if you like idc

Paige Bueckers and Clover Amar had more in common than either of them would like to admit. Two sides of the same coin. Cocky, overly confident, Competitive and undeniably overprotective. Basketball was their life, a priority that had been cemented at the very top from an early age on. The rivalry between UConn’s two star players was never solely reserved for the court. In fact, one might say the times where the two interacted off-court, were the most intense.

The gym buzzed with the faint echoes of bouncing basketballs and the rhythmic squeak of sneakers against polished wood floors. Clover moved with precision as she stretched, her movements deliberate, her focus entirely on her body's rhythm. Her dark hair was pulled up, a few loose strands framing her sharp features. The short sleeves of her jersey revealed the intricate tattoos lining her arms and the hint of a design peeking from her neckline, adding an edge to her composed demeanor. 

She switched seamlessly into dribbling drills, her tattooed forearm flexing as she maintained complete control over the ball. Confidence radiated from her as she worked through the warm-up, her mind already preparing for the scrimmage ahead. Paige wasn't even on her radar—until her voice, laced with challenge, broke through the ambient noise.

"I hope we're not on the same team today," Paige said, her tone casual but her intent sharp as the glint in her eyes. She stood only a few feet away, spinning a ball lazily in one hand, her trademark smirk firmly in place.

Clover didn't look up immediately. Instead, she finished her stretch, bending forward with an air of indifference. Her voice was calm, but her words were edged with fire. "So do I. I wanna see you flat on your ass a couple of times today."

A sarcastic laugh escaped Paige, low enough that it could've been missed by anyone not tuned in to her. She leaned slightly closer, voice dropping as she muttered, just loud enough for Clover to catch it, "Sure you don't just wanna see my ass?"

Clover froze for half a second before straightening, a wicked grin curling her lips. She tilted her head, finally meeting Paige's gaze with an unbothered confidence that only made the air between them crackle more.

"Maybe," Clover replied, the single word dripping with nonchalance as she rolled her shoulders back and shifted into another stretch, purposefully turning away. The movement was subtle, but the way Paige's gaze lingered wasn't.

Clover's grin widened, though she kept it to herself. Let Paige think she was in control. For now, she could have her fun, but Clover would make sure it was her name on everyone's lips by the end of practice.

The sound of sneakers squeaking against the court, the rapid thuds of the ball, and shouts from teammates filled the gym as the scrimmage began. Clover and Paige stood on opposite ends of the court, their gazes locking briefly before the tip-off. Both wore identical smirks, their rivalry palpable to everyone present.

From the moment the game started, it was clear neither was holding back. Paige wasted no time driving toward the basket, weaving through defenders with her usual speed and finesse. Clover intercepted her at the paint, arms outstretched, forcing Paige to pull up for a contested mid-range jumper. The ball kissed the rim before bouncing out, and Clover snatched the rebound with a triumphant look.

"Better luck next time, Bueckers," Clover quipped as she dribbled down the court, her tone playful but cutting.

Paige jogged alongside her, the smirk on her face unwavering. "Don't get used to it. I've got range you can't even dream of."

Clover didn't respond—she didn't need to. With a sudden crossover, she left her defender stumbling and pulled up for a smooth three-pointer, her follow-through picture-perfect. The ball swished through the net, and Clover turned, shooting Paige a wink as she jogged back on defense.

Paige's teammates groaned, but she only shook her head, the corners of her mouth twitching upward.

Minutes later, Paige got her chance. She posted up against Clover on the block, their bodies colliding as Paige backed her down. Clover dug in, refusing to budge, but Paige was relentless, spinning off her shoulder and sinking a fadeaway jumper. She didn't even look at the ball as it swished through the net, her gaze locked on Clover's instead.

"Cute," Clover said, puckering her lips slightly. Her tone was flat, almost sarcastic. "But you're gonna have to try harder than that to impress me."

"I'm just getting started." Paige replied, already sprinting back on defense.

The banter continued as the game wore on, neither willing to let the other have the upper hand. Paige's quick drives and pinpoint passes were met with Clover's sharpshooting and scrappy defense, the two of them trading buckets and sly comments with equal intensity.

When Clover stole the ball from Paige in a full-court press, she couldn't resist a parting shot as she sprinted toward the hoop. "Guess those hands aren't as great as the hype, huh?" There was no way for the blonde to miss the implication.

Paige caught up just in time to block the layup, slapping the ball against the backboard. "Guess you'll just have to find out for yourself, Amar." she shot back, her voice laced with satisfaction.

Despite their constant back-and-forth, there was an undercurrent of respect in the way they moved around each other, pushing and testing each other's limits. Off the court, they might've been rivals, but on it, they brought out the best in each other—whether they'd admit it or not.

By the end of the scrimmage, both were drenched in sweat, their teammates huddled around the scoreboard to tally the points. Clover leaned on her knees, catching her breath, while Paige nudged her with an elbow.

"Admit it," Paige said, grinning through her exhaustion. "You're better when I'm guarding you."

Clover straightened, her cocky demeanor still intact despite the fatigue. "I'm always better, with or without you."

Paige laughed, shaking her head. "Keep telling yourself that, Amar."

The restaurant buzzed with the hum of conversation, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The team occupied a long table at the center of the room, the camaraderie usually electric during these dinners slightly muted tonight. Clover, seated near the middle of the table, absently pushed a forkful of pasta around her plate as her gaze flicked toward Paige. 

Paige sat across from her, a sly grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as her date—a redhead in a tight dress—leaned in closer. The girl's laugh was shrill, cutting through the chatter like nails on a chalkboard. Clover's jaw tightened as she caught Paige throwing a brief glance in her direction, the hint of a smirk playing on her lips as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

"You good, Clo?" Nika asked from beside her, nudging her shoulder lightly. 

"Never better," Clover replied, her tone cool and composed. She pushed her plate away slightly, glancing up just in time to catch the waitress approaching their table again. 

The blonde waitress, with her friendly yet slightly shy demeanor, stopped beside Clover, her gaze lingering longer than necessary. "How's everything tasting? Can I get you anything else?" she asked, her voice sweet and soft, a faint pink dusting her cheeks as she spoke directly to Clover. 

Clover leaned back casually, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Everything's great. But I think I'm missing something," she said, her voice dripping with playful charm. 

The waitress blinked, her blush deepening. "Oh? What's that?" 

"Dessert. But I think already found something much better." Clover replied, her eyes locking with the waitress's. 

The blonde's lips twitched into a shy smile, and she ducked her head slightly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Well, if there's anything else you need, just let me know," she said before walking away, her steps a little quicker than before. 

KK beside her let out a low whistle. "Damn, Clo. You didn't waste any time, huh?" 

Clover shrugged, her smirk widening. "What can I say? I've got a way with people." 

Across the table, Paige's hand tightened around her glass. Her date, oblivious, was saying something about an influencer trip to Miami, but Paige wasn't listening. Her eyes were fixed on Clover, watching the exchange with the waitress, the way Clover's gaze lingered a little too long, and the deliberate brush of fingers when the menu was handed over earlier. 

The redhead beside Paige tugged at her arm, her bright red nails curling around Paige's wrist. "Babe, you're not even listening to me," she pouted, her voice high-pitched and grating. Clover had to hold herself back from snorting at the pet-name.

Paige forced a small smile, pulling her attention back. "Sorry. What were you saying?" 

The redhead sighed dramatically but didn't notice the subtle shift in Paige's gaze, which darted back toward Clover. 

Clover, sensing the eyes on her, turned her head slightly, catching Paige's annoyed expression. She smirked and raised her glass in a mock toast, mouthing, 'Enjoying the show?' 

Paige's jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing slightly before she turned back to her date, the irritation bubbling under her carefully composed exterior. 

The dinner had dragged on far longer than Clover would've liked. The initial awkwardness of Paige bringing her date to what was supposed to be a team dinner had somehow managed to get worse. Amelia—or was it Emily?—sat perched beside Paige, her body angled as if she wanted to detach herself from the table entirely. She barely engaged with the team, only giving short, clipped answers to any attempts at conversation. 

"So, Amelia," one of their teammates, Azzi, ventured cautiously, a polite smile on her face. "What do you do? Are you a student here, too?" 

"I'm studying marketing," Amelia replied flatly, barely sparing Azzi a glance before leaning back toward Paige. "But I really think I'm gonna go into PR after graduation." 

Azzi's smile faltered as she glanced at Clover, who offered a subtle shrug before turning her attention to her drink. 

Across the table, Paige shifted in her seat, looking slightly uncomfortable as Amelia chattered on about some influencer she'd recently met. Clover's jaw tightened, her irritation growing. It wasn't just the way Amelia monopolized Paige's attention; it was how disinterested she seemed in everyone else, as though the team wasn't worth her time. Clover was someone who was very protective of her loves ones, especially someone as sweet and kind hearted as Azzi Fudd. There was no way in hell she'd let anyone disrespect her.

"Hey, sorry—what was your name again?" Clover cut in suddenly, her tone pleasant but her eyes sharp. She leaned forward slightly, setting her elbows on the table as if genuinely trying to remember. Paige's eyes couldn't help but drift towards the girl's now accentuated cleavage, her breast valley tattoo barely visible. "Emily, right?" 

"It's Amelia," the redhead corrected, her brows knitting together in clear irritation. 

Clover feigned a look of realization, nodding slowly. "Right... Amelia. Pretty name." She leaned back against her chair, crossing her arms. "You know, Amelia, don't you think that when you're out with a group of people, it's polite to at least acknowledge their existence?" Her smile didn't waver, but the sharpness in her voice was unmistakable. "Paige isn't gonna run away, honey. I promise." 

Amelia's lips parted in shock, her face turning an angry shade of red. "Excuse me?" 

Clover shrugged, her tone light as if she hadn't just dropped a verbal grenade. "It's just something to think about. Right, Paigey?" She turned her gaze to Paige, her smirk growing. "You're not gonna ditch the poor girl, are you?" 

Paige's glare could've cut through steel, but Clover didn't falter. The rest of the team watched the exchange, most of them trying—and failing—to suppress their amusement. Aubrey hid her face behind her drink, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter, while Aaliyah pretended to look at her phone, her lips pressed tightly together. 

Amelia looked to Paige, clearly waiting for her to jump to her defense. "Paige?" 

But Paige didn't say anything. She sighed, running a hand through her hair, and leaned back in her chair. "Clover's just being Clover," she muttered, clearly unwilling to get involved. 

That was the final straw for Amelia. She stood abruptly, grabbing her purse. "Unbelievable," she hissed, glaring at Paige before storming out of the restaurant in a dramatic huff. 

The table fell silent for a moment before Ayanna snorted, breaking into laughter. "Clover, that was ruthless." 

Clover grinned, unbothered. "I just call it like I see it." 

Paige shot her a look but didn't say anything, clearly annoyed but unwilling to escalate the situation further. 

As the night wound down and the team began gathering their things, Clover reached for the bill. "I've got it," she said firmly, waving off anyone who tried to chip in. 

The waitress returned to the table to collect the check, her usual professional demeanor softening when she looked at Clover. She slipped a napkin onto the table beside her, leaning in slightly. "Thanks for coming in tonight," she said softly, her cheeks flushed as she smiled at Clover. "Call me if you ever want dessert." 

Clover chuckled, slipping the napkin into her pocket as the waitress walked away, her steps quick and purposeful. 

Paige, who hadn't missed a second of the interaction, scoffed loudly. "Seriously?" 

"What?" Clover replied innocently, trailing behind the team as they exited the restaurant. "Can't help it if people like me, Bueckers." 

Paige rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "So fucking annoying." 

Clover smirked, her tone teasing. "I know you are, but what am I?" 

The tension between them was palpable as they walked out into the night, the unspoken rivalry simmering just beneath the surface, ready to ignite again at any moment.

[gay-dorito-dust]

(Idk if ur rq are open bc I can't find any indication of it being, but I hope it is and if it isn't km sorry and h can just ignore this until they are!!)

Maybeee bat boys x reader who zones out a lot and tends to make faces according to what she's thinking abt. Like a smile or frown. And sometimes when they ask her what's up she's all secretive and what not.

Thank you!!

I dunno if I did this right but here ya go!

Dick makes a game out of it and tries to guess what you were thinking about.

Even if you don’t tell him why you’re smiling or making a face of thought, he is surprisingly good at being able to figure it out regardless, but for every expression he gets wrong you’d have to give him double the kisses for the ones he gets right to make up for it.

He loves watching your face contort like a ventriloquist through a rapid fire of emotions depending on what your mind has decided to remind you of, and today it was the memory of Hayley in her Halloween costume of Nightwing, just to match with Dick in his Nightwing suit as he prepared to enter the bloodhaven annual Nightwing contest.

Basically a contest where people deduce if anyone had a similar ass shape to Nightwing himself, a contest you find ridiculous but the imagine of Hayley in her Halloween costume was the sweetest thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on, that you couldn’t help but smile widely at.

You had albums full of Hayley in her Halloween costume with Dick photobombing in the background.

‘What’s on that pretty little mind of yours sweetheart?’ Dick would often ask.

‘Something silly.’ You’d reply with on the odd occasion as to keep him guessing, finding his attempts fun and only giving him pity kisses when he got a majority of them wrong. He had only got a handful right before but on all the other occasions he’s fails spectacularly.

‘Something silly like the time I lost the nightwing contest to Jason that one time?’ He answers wrongly but you couldn’t help but give him a pity kiss for being somewhat right but wrong simultaneously.

‘Sure darling.’ You’d say as you went back to zoning out on Hayley in her Halloween costume while dick burrows his face into your neck, murmuring about how of all people did Jason won the contest when they look nothing alike before going on about how Jason was a brick shit house in comparison to his muscular yet flexible body.

You’ll have to give him more pity kisses to ease his bruised ego by saying he wins all the Nightwing contests in your eyes. When in reality Hayley wins them all just for the fact of being adorable.

Damian found it weird at first for your face to be expressive, believing that it would make you an easy target for others to take advantage of.

Now however he finds it to be a way of expressing how you actually felt in comparison to the words that escape your mouth. He often discouraged zoning out as it would lead to unfavourable outcomes, but when you zone out and your face becomes soft Damian couldn’t help but find himself looking at you with a soft expression of his own.

‘What are you think about my beloved?’ He’d ask you as he hugs you from behind, resting his head upon your shoulder.

‘Nothing that you would find investing my love.’ You replied softly as the fond smile on your face grew the more you thought about the one time Damian chased Titus throughout the mansion because the Great Dane has somehow stole his robin suit and wouldn’t let go.

Damian kisses your shoulder. ‘Are you sure it’s not something I should be concerned about?’ He’d then ask.

You smile softly. ‘Not at all dami, just a funny thought is all.’ You told him while moving your head to kiss his forehead as though to calm his own thoughts. He hums, not believing you for a second from the mischievous glint in your eyes but was more than willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, just because he adored you so much.

‘As you wish my treasure.’ Your thoughts were your thoughts and Damian wouldn’t pry into them unless you wanted him to, so he just watched your expression carefully and deduced what you were feeling and link it to whatever memory would gain an happy, fond expression and leave it at that.

Jason loves your expressive face, he really does and will playfully pester you about what you were asking a face at while softly pinching your sides as you giggled.

Jason loved watching you as you zone out, perhaps reminiscing about a recent memory or other, and watching your face show how you felt about that particular moment.

‘Whatcha thinking about chipmunk?’ He’d ask from his place on the kitchen counter that he chose to admire you from. ‘Was it about little old me?’ He’d then ask cheekily as you playfully groan, shoving a hand to his face and pushing him away.

‘As if.’ You’d reply before walking away but Jason will continue to pester you about what you were thinking for the rest of the day. He’s just a little shit that you’ve come to love more then anything. Your thoughts were more than not occupied by how comfortable he had gotten with you over the course of your relationship and how happy you were for him.

Though you’d never say such a thing in front of him as he’ll use it against you however he could while giving you the softest, most beloved look upon his gorgeous face. Jason was your weakness and the only thing that you always thought about whether it be his autopsy scars, his white ruff of hair that you found immensely adorable and his plush lips that you want to kiss constantly.

Jason is more then content in just watching your face, but don’t be surprised that he kisses your furrowed brow when he sees your face become troubled, he wants his sweetheart to be happy not troubled because that’s what you deserve. You don’t need words to describe how happy you were for Jason to be able to read the emotion crossing your face, and Jason was more than happy to be of reassurance for when you needed it.

Bruce is amused whenever you made a face at something, or nothing in particular.

Like Damian he views it as a way of expressing your inner most feelings towards something or someone without having to vocalise it. It intrigues him as it’s not often that he comes across someone who wears their emotions across their face like you, after all Gotham if filled with some of the most guarded people to ever exist, him included.

It’s fascinating but even he got a little curious when you were smiling a little too widely one day, silently chuckling to yourself as you tried to get ready for bed.

‘What is making you laugh my dear.’ Bruce would ask as he sets aside his novel, moving to his side to look at you while the hand at your waist drew soothing patterns into your skin.

‘Nothing.’ You said as you chuckled.

‘Are you sure it’s nothing? Seems like you might be reminiscing of the time at the iceberg lounge where I mistakenly striped down to my boxers and tabletop danced.’ Bruce replied and all you could do is look at him with a somewhat shocked expression, you knew he was good but you kept forgetting just how good he was at deducting it always caught you off guard.

‘How-‘ you began.

‘Detective remember.’ Bruce chuckled slightly as he kissed your forehead.

‘But that was too specific of a memory for you to guess correctly.’ You rebutted, wanting to know how he knew about that particular memory.

‘It’s not too difficult for me to differentiate between the facial expressions you have towards each and every time you zone out my dear, so while it maybe impossible to believe but to me it’s as easy as breathing.’ Bruce replied as he brought you into his chest. He really did take the time out of his day to memories and learn the smallest of differences between your facial expressions, so much to the point where could tell whether the thing you were zoning out on was a good memory or not.

‘I’m not sure whether to be flattered or not.’ You murmured to yourself as you rested again his strong chest, tracing the many, many scars it possessed with featherlight touches and affection in the form of small kisses pepper against them.

Bruce only tightens his hold on you and kisses the top of your head as he hums. ‘Flattered preferably as the expression you make is sweet and warm.’ He tells you with his voice heavy with sleep.

‘Flattery it is.’ You said sluggishly as you cuddled yourself into his chest, clinging onto him for dear life as he kept you close, presenting the door his back out of his need to keep you safe and secure.

[nostalgebraist]

on exordia (a "rant"?)

Yesterday I said I'd write a longer post about Exordia. Here it is.

This will be... sort of review-shaped, but not quite a review? I dunno.

I'll try to avoid spoilers, although some amount of (largely minor or indirect) spoilage will be inevitable.

As I said in my earlier posts, there was a lot I liked about this book, but also a lot that frustrated me. This post will focus almost entirely on the latter; it will be a big long list of gripes, which I'm posting mostly to relieve a certain mental pressure that built up over the course of the reading experience.

I want to clarify at the outset that the negative angle here doesn't faithfully represent by overall stance toward the book.

Yes, I often found it extremely annoying, but it was a lot of fun, too – often it was both, at the same time. I am normally a pretty slow reader, but I sped through Exordia's 500+ pages very quickly; even when I was annoyed with this or that feature of the book, I was pleasantly engrossed, too. And I feel like writing out a bunch of thoughts about it, which has to mean something good, right? Even if those thoughts are critical in nature.

----

Why do I feel like writing so much about the book? And why do I care so much about the fact that it was "frustrating"? (There are lots of bad books out there; sometimes, I read them; in itself, this is just business as usual, and not worthy of note.)

I think it comes down to what I said in my first post (see link above). Because Exordia feels so much like something I would absolutely love, I feel more incensed about its flaws than I would be about the more thoroughgoing flaws of something that was simply, wholly, and straightforwardly bad. There's a tantalizing sense of unrealized potential, unfulfilled promises.

Exordia would be so good if it were good.

----

Talking about this book's flaws is difficult, because most of them are closely related to one another, and it's difficult to break down that big ball of tangled-up string into manageable chunks.

But there are a few things that are relatively self-contained, so I'll pick them off first. (The main course starts in section "3" below.)

Oh, also: this ended up extremely long. As in, just over 10,000 words. If you wanted to read 10,000 words of Exordia critique today then this is your lucky day I guess.

----

1. frontloading

Exordia has a very strong opening. When I was 30 pages in, I was almost certain that I would end up loving this book and recommending it to everyone I knew.

Ha! Little did I know!

----

The book is divided into five sections called "Acts."

Act One is very brief. It ends on page 38, less than 10% of the way into the book.

And it's very, very good. Or more precisely, it's very, very promising, as a way to begin a story.

Right off the bat, we get two instantly charming and intriguing characters, with an instantly charming and intriguing dynamic.

Then – starting barely five pages in – we are suddenly assailed by a rapid-fire barrage of incredibly cool sci-fi shit. Bizarre neologisms, alien biology and psychology, quasi-theological revelations about physics and the early universe! "Narrative prisons"! "Weapons that mark their victims for damnation"! An "observatory" that can see the afterlife!

All three of those examples I just quoted are from one single page (p. 21).

And Exordia is over 500 pages long.

I was like: holy shit. If this is what it's like now, what is the rest of it going it be like?

Well. Now I've read the rest of it, so I know. What was it like, then?

----

What it's like is this:

On page 38, Act One ends.

Act Two begins by switching over to a completely different set of characters.

In Act One, it seemed obvious that we were meeting the book's main characters. All the usual conventions of novelistic storytelling were practically screaming at us: behold, the protagonists! Better figure out how you feel about them in short order, reader, because you'll be strapped in with them for the long haul.

But – psych! Turns out that we are not strapped in with the Act One characters for the long haul. Eventually they do show up again, but they spend most of the book on the sidelines due to a succession of plot devices which seem designed specifically to keep them there.

The fast pace slows to a crawl.

We discover that we're in a completely different genre: not wild-eyed cosmic science fiction, but Tom Clancy military-techno-thriller. And so a large fraction of the text, by volume, is stuff like this:

"What's up?" Mike Jan asks, like they've just bumped into each other at the gym. "Something bad?" "Something undetermined," Erik says. "One of the EBADs broke. One more check, then we go in." So they do a final test on their MOPP protection, which is an absolute nightmare in the rising sun. Masks that fog up if the seal isn't perfect, baggy JSLIST oversuits, paper wraps that turn bad colors if they contact known agents (what good will that do?), gloves and booties over their boots. All perfect for poaching them in their own sweat. "Can't see shit in here," Ricardo says, without unhappiness: just the condition of things. "I know. Mike, bodyguard Anna. Skyler, get the drone up. Ricardo, load a mouse. All call signs, Zero-Six, now proceeding into the target area. Out." They walk straight toward Blackbird. Skyler flies a quadcopter drone ahead: a Teal Drones Golden Eagle with a fifty-minute charge. Ricardo Garcia follows its course, waving a ten-foot spear with a live mouse in a plastic lattice canister. The idea is that the mouse will die in time to warn the rest of them. "Pretty out here," Mike Jan remarks. "Looks like a Windows desktop." Of course Mike has never changed a default desktop wallpaper in his life.

I'm sure some people like this kind of thing – it's an established genre, after all, and it sells well. But it's not really my jam, and (more importantly) it's not what the opening led me to think I was getting myself into.

(Sidenote: the last two lines in that quote have nothing to do with the point I'm making, but I included them anyway, because they confuse me and I want to know whether I'm missing something that would make sense of them. "Has never changed a default desktop wallpaper in his life" is apparently meant to be some kind of telling character detail, and it's delivered as though we'd immediately grasp its significance. But what IS its significance? "Oh, we all know those guys – the ones who don't change their desktop wallpapers. You know what I'm talking about, wink wink." Huh???)

The new characters are mostly U.S. military/government/intelligence guys (at this stage anyway – later on there will be even more new characters, and then more, etc). The book tries its hardest to make us care about them, but it's fighting an uphill battle because it has to work against our frustration at the bait-and-switch that has been pulled on us.

Plus, frankly, they're just not all that interesting. Sorry.

Sooner or later, we realize that Act One was the odd one out. When Act Three arrives, it's just "Act Two: The Sequel" – and so on. Except in a few parts very close to the end, the book never recaptures the energy and wonder that it used as a hook in Act One.

It gets worse. Remember how I said that Act One rapidly reveals a bunch of sci-fi lore to the reader?

Well, a large fraction of Acts Two through Five are a mystery story in which the new, less-interesting characters study a classic BDO and try to figure out what its deal is, plus a bunch of related ancillary mysteries. And in some cases, the reader can guess the answers long before the characters get there, because the answer is something we were told back in Act One.

(This is only possible, by the way, due to the previously mentioned sidelining of the Act One characters. These characters re-appear, and the other protagonists get to know them, but for most of the book the two groups are unable or unwilling to communicate for some reason or another. If these communication blockers weren't there, the Acts Two+ guys could just ask the Act One guys what was going on... and the book would be several hundred pages shorter.)

This is a baffling structural choice.

I have no idea how one could possibly try to justify it; I simply can't think of any arguments in its favor, even bad ones.

2. the path, grant!

This isn't even a complaint, per se. Just something about my reading experience that seems like it should get mentioned in this post, somewhere.

In a lot of ways – big and small, important and trivial – this book feels weirdly close to the kind of thing that I would write myself.

Indeed, it feels weirdly close (in a lot of ways, big and small etc.) to some things that I did in fact write, myself.

Namely, Floornight and Almost Nowhere.

I'm not claiming that Seth Dickinson ripped me off, or anything. It seems very unlikely that he's read any of my work, or even heard of it. Like I said in my earlier post, it's probably all just a matter of shared influences and/or pure coincidence.

Still, I have to talk about it, because I couldn't stop noticing it.

In the first ten pages, I learned: this is a story about first contact with aliens. It involves a lot of exotic invented terminology, and the worldbuilding includes novel connections between fundamental physics, psychology, and ethics.

And I thought: wow, this sure is right up my alley. Nice!

On page 11, the book started talking about the Shahnameh.

Ten pages later: souls are real! But this is arguably bad, because it's been used as the basis for exploitative and dystopian technologies.

I dunno, it's not like I has a monopoly on that concept. (I stole part of it from Madoka, for one thing.)

Nor, as I happens, do I have a monopoly on the concept of "wacky eccentric scientists who live in a remote setting apart from most of humanity, studying Lovecraft-style mind-bending entities from the beyond." That's just taking well-worn, well-liked tropes and combining them in a natural, appealing way. (And what's more, I stole part of it from Annihilation.)

But in any case – monopoly or no – Exordia does in fact have those wacky scientists, and that remote zone, and those creepy, soul-physics-related objects of study.

It also has a character named "Anna" – with a sort-of-similar role in the story to Almost Nowhere's Anne.

And a character named "Rosamaria," who...

But I'm sure you can guess how that sentence ends.

Some of this stuff is hard to talk about without violating my rule about spoilers.

But, uh, that said – remember that big scene about 2/3 of the way through Floornight, the one with a raised platform that gets used as a stage? The one in which [HUGE FLOORNIGHT SPOILER] happens?

And then the chapter right after that, which has an unusual name, because it portrays things from an unusual point of view?

Oh, you haven't read Floornight. Well, then. Do you remember that scene near the end of Exordia...

Some of the "connections" I thought I saw are flimsier than this. Some aren't really much of anything, in retrospect. Early on we learn that the aliens have some technology called "the way of knives," and I thought: ah, just like AN's "knife-power"! But in fact the two things have nothing else in common. And surely I don't have a monopoly on the word "knife."

I dunno. How about this? Is this anything?

The Ubiet burbles away in her arms: clarification and amplification of aretaic event in self-like past, recursive self-caricature by protoprecosmic influence, WARNING WARNING WARNING pathology! pathology! pathology! pathology! pathology! Until that word, pathology, starts to sound like path-ology, the study of paths. The discovery of the way.

3. the geeky badass hive mind

Okay, here begins the part I called "the main course" above, where I lay out the really big thing that irked me about Exordia.

Hmm... where to start...

There is a problem with the characterization in this book. There is also a problem with the narration in the book.

These two problems are sort of the same, and the fact that they are sort-of-the-same is itself a noteworthy symptom of the problem.

Whoa, whoa – too broad, too abstract! Let's start with something small and concrete. Something that anyone who's read the book will have noticed, and which I am definitely not the first person to complain about.

So: Exordia is full of geek culture references.

The characters make incessant references to specific sci-fi/fantasy books, anime series, video games, and popular movies and TV shows. The 3rd-person narration also does this frequently.

It gets pretty "cringe" at times.

Here's a very early (and hence memorable) example. Anna, our Act One pseudo-protagonist, is learning the deep secrets of the universe from a snake-headed alien. The alien tells her that souls exist.

And in response, Anna says:

"Souls? You mean immortal souls? Are those real? Is this some kind of, like, Evangelion thing?"

I was like: seriously? Seriously? Come the fuck on.

But a moment later, I got my balance. I thought: wait, I see what this is. This is a character trait. It's a feature of this person, not the book/world.

Anna is a person who makes these kinds of nerdy, "cringe" references at inappropriate times, just like (as we learn in the first few pages) she is a person who has been fired from multiple jobs for being too abrasive, too upfront with people. That tracks. There's a coherent person, here, and I'm getting to know her.

Ha! Little did I know!

Act One ends, and Act Two starts.

We are introduced to our first "Acts Two+ protagonist": Clayton Hunt, Deputy National Security Advisor in the book's alt-universe version of the Obama administration.

Clayton is a slick charmer, a skilled and versatile liar, a power-hungry schemer who deliberately orchestrated his rise through the ranks of the National Reconnaissance Office bureaucracy. He is – if we are to judge by his (disturbing) past deeds, which are recounted as crucial backstory – a cold-hearted psycho sonuvabitch who's way, way too eager to kill people "for the greater good." At first glance, he seems to have nothing at all in common with Anna (too honest for her own good, a basically normal person struggling to keep her basically normal life afloat, etc).

Does Clayton make nerdy, often "cringe" geek culture references – incessantly, come hell or high water? You bet he does.

We meet Clayton's once-and-future best friend and right-hand man, Major Erik Wygaunt: Rhodes Scholar, badass soldier, doctrinaire quasi-deontological moralist. Totally different guy from either of the forenamed – or so one would think.

But in practice, in what he actually does and says? Erik is exactly the same sort of argumentative, obscure-trivia-knowing, geek-culture-referencing dork as Clayton and Anna and – yes – virtually every other character in the book.

Here's a typical passage, from page 86. Clayton (dialogue in italics) is in conversation with Erik (no italics):

“My guess is that Blackbird is dispersing some kind of communication agent. It seeks out information-dense substrate and … interfaces with it. Tries to use it to grow a message or a system. It’s trying to talk to us by amplifying patterns it finds. Not how I’d go about first contact. But how I might do it if I were very, very strange.” Erik can’t help making a technical protest: like they’re both optimizing their colonies in Sid Meier’s Alpha Centauri, arguing over the details of the science fictional technologies in play. “Then it should be bursting open every cell in our bodies. If it’s looking for information coding, then DNA would be the first thing it’d find. Seven hundred megabytes of digital data in each cell.”

By this point, I had long since discarded my "characterization for Anna" hypothesis. I'd gotten the hang of what was really going on.

And so I didn't even blink when, on page 103, a character is introduced as "Captain Davoud Qasemi of the Islamic Republic of Iran Air Force" – and he immediately begins rattling off the names of specific video games he liked as a kid, rambling about the homosexual overtones in Top Gun, and saying things like "It's marvelously ironic! It's so classically ironic that it's invented pederasty and gone to war with Sparta."

That's just how everyone in the world talks, apparently.

Everyone in the world. This book is about a Kurdish village that is suddenly crisscrossed with deployments from the U.S. and Russia and China etc., in what seem likely to be the last days of the human race; it is, in large part, about the culture clashes and strained attempts at international collaboration that result from this arrangement.

But the characters are helped along in their efforts by the fact that there is at least one culture to which they all belong.

They would all seem perfectly at home sitting on a big couch in a dorm common room at some nerdy liberal arts college, nominally watching a movie but in fact talking over most of the dialogue as they strive to out-do one another in the game of pointing out its scientific and historical inaccuracies.

Now, don't get me wrong. This is a perfectly fine way to be.

But it is not the only one.

----

It is probably clear that I did not like this aspect of the book. But why?

Well, there is the thing I just mentioned, about how it undermines the attempt at portraying culture clashes. But that's not the only problem, and it's not really the main problem.

What else, then?

In his (in)famous essay about "hysterical realism," James Wood wrote (my emphasis):

By and large, these are not stories that could never happen (as, say, a thriller is often something that could never happen); rather, they clothe real people who could never actually endure the stories that happen to them. They are not stories in which people defy the laws of physics (obviously, one could be born in an earthquake); they are stories which defy the laws of persuasion. This is what Aristotle means when he says that in storytelling “a convincing impossibility” (say, a man levitating) is always preferable to “an unconvincing possibility” (say, the possibility that a fundamentalist group in London would continue to call itself KEVIN).

Exordia is not hysterical realism, and it contains plenty of events which deliberately contravene the (known) laws of physics. Nonetheless, while reading it, I kept thinking of that line about "defying the laws of persuasion."

In the case of any one character, the traits I'm pointing to would be perfectly acceptable. (We saw this with my reaction to Anna, above.)

What's more, they would be acceptable even if they went against the expectations set by other attributes of the same character. The world is huge, and contains billions; every oddball combination of traits you can imagine quite possibly does exist, at least in someone, somewhere.

And besides: as Wood says, the "laws of persuasion" are not the same as the "laws of physics." The requirements needed for something to "feel plausible," in a work of fiction, are not the same as the requirements needed for something to be plausible, in real life.

But there is a set of requirements in the case of fiction. It's just a different one.

Meet the terms of the contract, and the reader will happily "suspend their disbelief," even in the face of actions and dialogue that would be extraordinarily unlikely in the real world. But if you break the contract? Then piling on more "realism," more geeky period/setting detail and laws-of-physics plausibility, will only heighten the disconnect and slide things further into the uncanny valley.

It's like watching a 3D 60-fps movie, back when Hollywood was going through its simultaneous 3D and 60-fps fads.

Yes, yes, there is technically more information, it's technically closer to the signal your senses would receive from the real world. But you have broken the terms of the illusion, suspended the suspension of disbelief, and so I am no longer seeing your world and characters, anymore. I am seeing the remaining gaps in your inevitably flawed illusion.

On page 136 of Exordia, we meet a female Kurdish shepherd. She's an extremely minor character, really just a horror-movie extra who's there to get picked off (ambiguously, "off-screen") by the spooky powers at play, and thereby give the reader an (ambiguous, tantalizing) hint of what those powers can do.

But, as is the convention in such matters, Seth Dickinson gives her just a smidgen of characterization, to humanize her before she goes.

What kind of person is she, this poor doomed shepherdess?

You already know the answer, don't you?

Tonight she thinks only of her sheep. Oil smuggling paid for her phone and the rifle on her back, but this flock is part of the village’s common wealth, and she is responsible for it. Or so her mother is always reminding her. And even if she watches too much anime and spends too much time getting into fights on Facebook, she wants to do her mother proud.

She watches too much anime? Fine. Maybe she does. Maybe she does.

Maybe – if it were only her. If the seams in the illusion were not showing through so plainly.

I'm a fairly cooperative reader. The implausible and the impossible do not bother me. I am capable of believing just about anything.

But not like this.

----

The characters of Exordia are geeks. That much I've covered already.

They are also badasses, every one of them. Geeky badasses.

That's the phrase that came to mind, pretty early on, when I was trying to formulate what bothered me about these guys. "Every single character in this book is a geeky badass," I thought.

I'm sorry. It's a very, uh, "cringe" phrase. But that too is apposite.

What do I mean, "badasses"?

For one thing I mean that they are hypercompetent. They know all kinds of stuff – geek culture trivia, academic esoterica in seemingly every discipline, hands-on working knowledge of whichever military or scientific devices the plot needs them to use. They are quick on their feet, relentlessly thoughtful and logical, cool under pressure (or hot under pressure in an impressive and charismatic manner), capable of creative problem-solving.

They never fail.

Nothing fazes them. Or rather: when they are fazed, it is brief, and they look great doing it, and it doesn't matter in the end anyway.

Many of them have dark, traumatic personal histories (exciting! dramatic! potentially sexy!), but however bad their trauma, it does not dare disturb their hypercompetence when the latter is at work.

This book is about the cataclysmic end of the world-as-we-know-it. It contains a staggering quantity of violence and death: on-screen and off-screen, mass-scale and intimate, dealt out by a diverse range of human and inhuman actors and weapons. But no one ever just breaks down in the face of it all. Or rather: if they do "break down," they do so only briefly, and they look great doing it, and...

One of the main characters is, explicitly, an alcoholic with PTSD. But this doesn't really ever come up as a serious obstacle, either to her or to anyone else. Mostly, it just means that she jokes around with the other characters about being the town drunk, sometimes, in between one moment of epic badassery and the next.

One might argue that this is sort of... I don't know, "tasteless"? I don't know. I had some sort of problem with it, anyway, that or some other one.

For a book that is so thoroughly about nerds, it is remarkable how little it contains in the way of humiliation. Of straight-up, unalloyed uncoolness.

As always, things start off with uncharacteristic promise. In the first few pages, Anna loses her job, then breaks up with her boyfriend in a very awkward manner and instantly regrets it.

This, remember, is the same character who says that cringe line about souls and Evangelion. So far, so good! We've gone from zero to #relatable in record time. We have a confirmed blorbo, stable under laboratory conditions. Sources familiar with the situation report that she is "a hot mess" and "literally me."

But that's all in Act One (may it rest in peace). Soon enough, Anna is taken up into the geeky badass hive mind, and from then on she too is never seen to fail. Except in a cool way, sometimes.

Soon enough she is just like the rest of them. Quick-witted, effortlessly articulate, situationally aware, ready for anything, an endless font of witty geek banter.

Is this bad? Why?

I'm not sure. Maybe I just don't like it. Maybe there's nothing more than that.

But... okay, look. This is a book about the likely end of the human race, about humans trying to work together in the face of cultural differences and mutual mistrust. It wants you to hope. In its moments of triumph, it wants you to feel proud of your whole species.

And, in the name of these goals, it tries so very hard to humanize its characters. It tries, it tries! They have so many traits, so much specificity! They will tell you all about their home towns, their cultures, their hopes and dreams and fears! Look, look, the book says: surely these are people? Look at them, they're doing so much people stuff!

But at the moment where "being human" might entail "not being effortlessly cool and badass literally all of the time," the book suddenly relents. That cannot be allowed, of course. Every threshold can be crossed, except that one.

Maybe it's just me, but I can't relate. I'm not a badass. I do embarrassing shit all the time, and I'll probably just go on doing it until the day I die. I don't think I could hold my own with these demigods in the anime-referencing game, much less the high-pressure-military-operations game.

I guess "people" are like this, sometimes. But only because the world is big, and so for every X, there are some people who are X, somewhere.

This book is about the human race, except it isn't. To be human is (among other things) to kind of suck, and no one in this book kind of sucks, not even the military psychopaths, not even blorbo-candidate Anna.

On page 10, Anna asks her alien how she views humanity, and the alien's characterization is humorously blunt, underwhelming, and undignified:

“You’re a species of gangly distance runners, adapted to sweat and throw stuff. You like watching each other fuck. [...] “You are wired for small social groups, so all human organization degenerates into power trading and gossip between a tractably sized elite, no matter the stakes. You have two sources of authority—dominance and prestige—which conflict in interesting ways. Something killed most of you, and so your survivors are very inbred. Very similar. Your meat smells the same.”

Act One really is so very different from the rest, isn't it?

Ah, those were the days!

4. differentiation of hive mind tissue

In the last section, I argued that the characters were overly similar. Possessed of the same "geeky badass" traits in a way that defied "the laws of persuasion."

That is true, but it's not to say the characters don't have distinguishing traits. They definitely have those.

But even here, in the realm of differences, something feels... off. To me, anyway.

It's sort of like this:

To a zeroth-order approximation, every character in Exordia is identical. Just another dollop of homogeneous geeky badass paste, scooped up from the same wellspring as all the rest.

That's only the zeroth-order approximation. Look closer, and you can see differences.

What kinds of differences?

Well, here's an example. There's a character named Chaya. Who is she? Besides a geeky badass, I mean?

She is [takes a deep breath] a Ugandan-Filipina Catholic butch lesbian plasma physicist!

That's a long list of traits, but it was very easy for me to recall them all from memory just now, even though Chaya is just one member of this book's long roster of protagonists. Why?

Because whenever Chaya appears in a scene – whenever she says anything, and whenever the narration is filtered through her perspective – these traits are mentioned over and over again.

Virtually everything that she says or thinks is:

A) Narrowly pragmatic, directly related to what's happening in the immediate plot, could have been said/thought by any one of the characters

B) Directly related to one or more of the traits listed above (e.g. she's Catholic, so she's praying or talking about God with one of the irreligious / differently religious characters)

C) Some mixture of the two (e.g. she is making some smart practical comment about a current dilemma in the plot, which any one of the characters might have said, except that where one of the other characters would have said "fuck!", she says "mama Mary!")

I almost feel kind of gross, dissecting a character in this way. Especially when it's a character like Chaya, who I kind of liked!

I almost feel that way, but then I remember it's not really me doing the dissection. The characters come this way, marked with convenient labels for ease of disassembly.

I said I "kind of liked" Chaya, and I did. When I was reading the book quickly, swept along by the story – when I sort of defocused my brain, and didn't pay too much attention – I felt that she was a likable character. She had the general shape of a "likable character." My brain could match her against familiar templates, and accept the match, if I let my brain work without too much conscious deliberation.

When I focused harder, though, the joints began to show.

When I focused harder, I could watch (well-crafted, clever) lines of dialogue and narration flow past, and see through the Matrix to the calculated flecks of trait-relevance which adhered to each and every one of those lines.

This is a Chaya section, so I am getting told over and over again about God and rosary beads and plasma physics and what Uganda is like and what the Philippines is like and the woman Chaya has a crush on and how Chaya has a crush on that woman and how these two have a vaguely butch/femme dynamic.

(Sidenote: although this book seems like it's taking great pains to be culturally sensitive – or, perhaps, because of that fact – I kept noticing that the American characters are not constantly thinking and talking about what America is like. Only the people from places presumptively unfamiliar to the reader do that kind of thing. And it almost feels like the American characters are given more "slots" in which to fit distinct character traits, because they don't have to spend any slots just to establish their national origins.)

These are the Chaya topics. I am being told about them, and I will be told about them later, in other Chaya sections. Except for "the plot," these are the only topics I will ever be told about in Chaya sections.

If this were a Clayton section, I would be hearing for the 50th time about how Clayton is manipulative and conflicted about his manipulativeness. Or, hearing about one of the other Clayton topics. There's a list of those, with maybe five or six items, just as there was with Chaya. In Clayton sections, you hear about these things, and only these things.

It reminds me of the kind of improv where you're handed a brief description of your character, and have to immediately start acting as that character, with no time to prep. There's no way you could invent a whole fleshed-out human being in under a second, of course. So you lean hard on the traits listed on your character sheet. You find ways to weave one or more of them into each and every line. See: I'm doing it right! I'm playing my character!

----

Exordia's characters have no small traits. Only big ones, like "being Catholic" or "being Chinese." They do not act whimsically or inexplicably, ever; they do not play against their fixed types, ever.

Real people are microscopically detailed, incompressible, differentiated from one another by millions of little quirks that are essentially arbitrary and cannot be satisfactorily "explained" except by narrating huge segments of their life histories ("see, that's where it came from," one might say, after relating years of experience in unsparing detail).

In fiction, this stuff can't possibly be conveyed in full, and so a faithful portrayal of its consequences tends to just look like "noise," arbitrary behavior, the whimsical, the inexplicable.

Which is fine. Good fictional characters often come with such halos of static around them. It's a part of making a fictional world feel real, rough-edged, lived-in.

And on the other hand, sometimes it's fine for a fictional character to just be a type, and play out that type. A lot of science fiction is this way: it simply isn't much interested in character, which is okay, because it has other interests with which to keep your attention.

But Exordia is trying to have it both ways.

It's not just a standard hard SF story where the characters are types, and are clearly and only those types, and that's okay. Compared to that sort of story, Exordia spends way more time lingering on its characters, "zooming in" on them. Inviting you to consider them, study them, love them.

But this causes a feeling of intuitive wrongness, an uncanny valley effect. We should be zoomed in far enough to see the details, the noise-haloes. So where are they?

You can zoom in and in, but all you see is a magnified version of the stuff you'd already seen at lower resolution. A surface of unreal smoothness, unmarred by dust or fuzz.

4b. so meta

It's annoying (I keep using that word...) to talk about these aspects of Exordia, because the book involves a sci-fi conceit that could potentially explain its unusual flatness of character.

Explain it in-universe, I mean. As a "real" thing that causes these people to be this way, for a specific reason, in a specific place and time. Leaving everyone outside of the frame potentially intact, with dust and fuzz still in place.

(Wait, that was in Floornight too! Huh. I literally didn't realize that until just now.)

I'm not going to say anything more about this due to the spoiler rule, except that I don't think it really works when you think about it. The stated causes don't actually match up with the effects: the former are too narrow in scope, the latter too pervasive. The characters are flat even when the sci-fi flat-causing mechanisms aren't supposed to be in effect.

At most, I guess you could say the flatness is "thematically appropriate." Connected to other stuff that the book talks about, elsewhere. But... I dunno. Who cares? What's the point?

4c. the voice of the hive

Like a lot of modern fiction, Exordia is mostly written in studiously maintained free indirect speech.

If you don't know (or don't remember) what that is, the Wikipedia page I just linked has a nice example, which I'll reproduce here.

Quoted or direct speech or narrator's voice: He laid down his bundle and thought of his misfortune. "And just what pleasure have I found, since I came into this world?" he asked. Reported or normal indirect speech: He laid down his bundle and thought of his misfortune. He asked himself what pleasure he had found since he came into the world. Free indirect speech: He laid down his bundle and thought of his misfortune. And just what pleasure had he found, since he came into this world?

It's third person. But the third-person narration is commingled with the perspective of one of the characters (where this focal character can vary over the course of the text). Often the "narrator" just says stuff as though it's objective reportage, when in fact it is (and the reader knows it is) what this specific character thinks or believes.

The use of free indirect speech accidentally provides a useful way to "directly measure" the characterization problems described above.

Consider: although the book is written this way almost all of the way through – and you can discern that fact if you pay attention – it is easy to forget in the moment that it is written this way.

Why? Because, although the narration follows the thoughts of one character and then another, the characters are too similar to one another for this to make much of a difference.

Mostly, the narration just describes things the way you'd imagine a "geeky badass" might describe them, with lots of flashy clever phrasing, and lots of arguably pedantic detail about science / engineering / military matters / etc.

Free indirect speech already blurs the distinction between the authorial voice and the character voices, by design, but here the blurring is taken to its limit, and the distinction collapses entirely. Is "the author" describing events this way? Or, is one of the characters describing it in that way? Or not them, but a different character? We can't tell, because all of these people would say precisely the same string of words.

Of course, we can usually tell who the focal character is, because the items listed on their character card are getting sprayed all over the place. If every other sentence of the narration mentions a Clayton topic, then Clayton must be the focal character, and likewise for the others.

Even here, though, there's a curious departure from the way free indirect speech works in most other books. Note that referencing the "Clayton topics" is not the same thing as conveying Clayton's moment-to-moment thoughts: the former is a fixed list of 5 or 6 items, while the latter presumably roves all over the place as time passes.

I say "presumably" because if the characters' thoughts do rove around in this way, we mostly don't see it. All we hear about is their "topics," again and again.

Maybe these are Clayton's thoughts; maybe Clayton is an obsessive monomaniac who just thinks endlessly about the fact that he's manipulative and so on. Maybe they are all like that. Who knows? It's impossible for me to tell, because the narration is ambiguous in this odd, specific way.

One section, late in the book, begins as follows:

An awful light from the sky finds Anna. She’s, barely, smart enough not to look straight at it.

I was briefly startled by this. I interpreted that "barely smart enough" remark as something said by the omniscient third-person observer. I was like: dude, that's kinda harsh, isn't it?

But a few sentences later, I realized: oh, the focal character in this scene is Anna's mom. It's Anna's mom who's judging her like this. That makes sense.

This particular example is just sort of a narration glitch. I'm not sure it'd be possible to avoid the effect I'm describing, here, without rewriting the scene so it's clear who the focal character is before the "barely smart enough" judgment occurs.

But this case stuck out to me when I encountered it, because that feeling of disorienting perspective-realignment – although it's just kind of awkward, here – is what good multi-character free indirect speech usually feels like, all the time.

"The book should have more of this," I thought. "It should be constantly calling the characters stupid, or whatever, from the perspective of other characters."

(It's not like that doesn't happen at all, mind you. It just happens way less than usual, and way less than it ought to, IMO.)

"With this much perspective-shifting, I should be getting vertigo," I thought. "So where is it? Why is everything so smooth?"

5. the forbidden word

My division into sections is sort of breaking down, here. There's a thing I want to mention that doesn't really deserve its own section, but doesn't quite fit anywhere else. Whatever.

It's yet another annoying quality of Exordia's characters. ("Wait," you're saying. "You said you enjoyed this book?")

Basically everyone in this book is so...

Look, guys, I really don't want to say "woke," okay? If no one ever used the word "woke" again, we would live in a better world. I have said it twice already in this paragraph, and thus made our shared world worse, twice. Sorry.

I'm just not sure what else to call it.

They're feminists. They're against racism, and it's not the kind of hollow and unreflective "opposition to racism" that (e.g.) most Americans will assent to if you poke them about it – no, these people have subtle, thought-through ideas about racism, and its causes.

And so on, w/r/t other forms of bigotry, and the like.

And it's not just that the characters hold these views, themselves. These views are a fluid in which they swim, in a mostly invisible fashion. Everyone assumes without asking that everyone else is like this, and acts accordingly.

Or, more precisely, all the main characters are like this. There are a few bit players who are vaguely suggested to have more right-wing attitudes: the "Mike Jan" who we briefly met above, he of the unchanging desktop background, seems like the type of guy who'd watch Alex Jones, for instance. And on really rare occasions – like maybe 2 or 3 times total – some barely characterized nonentity will actually say something racist or sexist, but nothing much comes of it (remember, our mains are emotionally impregnable badasses), and then the guy who made the comment gets beheaded by an alien laser on the same page or something.

Meanwhile, all the Important Characters are (I guess) invisibly equipped with Important Character Detectors that let them hone in on each other, ignore the hapless maybe-bigoted redshirts around them, and proceed immediately into sophisticated conversations about social justice with one another. No need to feel out the other party's general point of view beforehand: this guy's a protagonist. He's cool, he's one of us.

Is this bad?

I mean, if it is, it's not really a big deal, I guess? Not compared to the other issues I talked about earlier, the deeper ones that plague the fundamental ingredients of the work (character, plot, structure).

But I did find it kind of offputting. Especially at first, before I'd accepted that the Exordia world is just like this.

I remember specifically being startled by an early scene, during the part where the Act One characters are getting introduced to the Acts Two+ characters, in which Anna and Erik suddenly – without warning or preface – launch into a discussion of Kurdish feminism, and potentially distorted/simplified/problematic Western views of Kurdish feminism, and whether Kurdish feminism really matters at all in light of the dire geopolitical position of the Kurds, and that sort of thing.

Again: the problem is not that this is "implausible," in itself. We barely know Erik at this point, and insofar as we know him it's mostly as some hardcore soldier type of dude, but – sure, whatever. There are plenty of feminist men in the military, I'm sure. The military is big, it's got all kinds of people in it.

Again: the violation is not against the laws of physics, but against the laws of persuasion. It's not that this couldn't happen. It could!

And yet.

"Yes, this could happen. I guess it could. But like, come on. Really?"

Sometimes the reader is a harsher master than reality.

And beyond that, this just seems like... I don't know. Like a half-assed, cowardly way to make your book "about" social justice in some sense, without ever really confronting the topic head-on?

A book in which everyone verbally agrees with one another about their enlightened views is not a book about the content of those views. It's just a book in which some characters happen to agree with one another about some things, and also some other stuff happens.

(I'm being at least sort of unfair here: the book really is "about" the Kurds and the Anfal campaign, for instance.)

For a book about culture clashes and genocide and the struggle for international collaboration under tense circumstances, Exordia has a remarkable lack of ideological tension. Or even non-ideological international tension, depicted "on-screen."

Mostly, people in the book... just kind of instantly get along with each other? And then immediately start exchanging packets of nerd banter and/or trenchant commentary on the evils of U.S. imperialism. Members of the geeky badass hive mind, recognizing one another on sight, conversing in the native language of the hive.

Once again: is this bad? Even if so, how bad is it, really?

I think, maybe, that if your book is about the sorts of things that Exordia is about, then sometimes your characters should very much not get along immediately. That they should be riven apart, and driven to extremes, by identity and ideology – if not forever, then at least for a time.

Maybe.

6. proof by intimidation

Man, this post is long!

And somehow I haven't really touched upon what Exordia's prose actually feels like, most of the time, word by word.

That's what this last section is about.

I don't mean the prose style, exactly. Actually, the prose style per se is... really good, mostly! I don't have that much to say about the ways in which it is good, but for the sake of balance and accuracy, I ought to make it clear that they exist.

Seth Dickinson is clearly a very good writer. In the "writes high-quality prose" sense, at least, and – despite all that I've said – in plenty of other ways too. (I'm told that his other books are better than this one; I will probably read them sometime. And I look forward, warily but with a considerable measure of hope, to his future work.)

But. You know what's coming. This post is negative-only. I've got something bad to say about the prose, it seems. Not about the style, but about... something else?

What, then?

Well, let me show you some examples.

He [i.e. Clayton] has seen enough satellite timelines of mass graves to know exactly which stage the corpses have reached. Their skin and bone cells are still alive. Their suits are bloating with gases now. Death signals the beginning of a final uprising, when the three pounds and 60 percent (by count) of your cells that are bacterial clients claim their last meal. They eat you so greedily and so well.

Sixty percent, huh. TIL!

I didn't know that, but Clayton did, apparently. (Free indirect speech in action.)

Of course he did. Clayton is a geeky badass, and like all of his kind, he knows every gee-whiz fact (and factoid) in existence.

And like all geeky badasses – like the book itself – he is not shy about letting you know that he knows.

What else does the book know? Here's some chemistry:

Their X-ray frequency gun isn’t working. Maggie Gaboury breaks out the breakdown spectrometer. A neodymium-doped yttrium aluminum garnet laser attacks the hull; the plume of excited vapor releases a rainbow of light that the spectrometer can read like a bloody fingerprint.

"Breakdown spectrometer"? I've never heard of those. Am I supposed to know this? Is it important?

Two pages later:

The US Radar 110XLS is designed to survey down to two hundred feet below ground, seeking out oil deposits and land mines. Emme didn’t expect the radar to work—after all, their radios are burned out, and radars are giant radios. But radio doesn’t go through metal. The radar’s storage unit protected it. So now they’re aiming it at this alien hull, which Joel says isn’t metal. It’s some kind of stable excimer, or Rydberg matter.

"Ah, the US Radar 110XLS, huh?" I say, smiling and nodding.

Just keep smiling and nodding, I tell myself. Keep your mouth shut. Or else Seth might catch on that you're a fucking moron who doesn't even know what a "breakdown spectrometer" is.

Later, here's some physics:

She knows how matter behaves around black holes. This thing is not behaving like a black hole should: it ought to be pulling in nearby air, forming a friction fireball. It’s not. But even if it isn’t actively pulling, some air is going to move into it anyway. Air molecules at room temperature move shockingly fast—about 350 meters per second.

350 meters per second. Smile and nod. Smile and nod.

God, I'm dumb. All the fucking things I don't KNOW.

The areas which the book knows all about, and which I know virtually nothing about, are too numerous to name. Does it know aeronautical engineering? And astronautical engineering? You bet:

Volume around 12,000 cubic meters. Assuming the same density as a 747, this implies a mass of 5,400 metric tons, just short of two fully fueled Saturn V rockets. Blackbird has wings, but they’re too thick to produce much lift. The fuselage shows no sign of area ruling for efficient transonic flight. It’s not a plane. As a spacecraft design, Blackbird almost makes sense. The entire fuselage could serve as a lifting body while Blackbird glides down to a water landing. In space, the wings and their jagged trailing edges could act as radiators. There are no visible engines, but maybe the tail stuck in the mountainside is the exhaust.

That all sounds logical enough, I guess. But then again, if it wasn't, how would I know? Man, I don't even know what the phrase "area ruling" means.

Perhaps, despite my pretensions, I am not in fact cut out to disparage this book at all. It's above my pay grade. It's smarter than me.

You want more? Here's, um, a "BLEVE":

The blast tips the nearest helicopter on its side, snapping rotors, the fueling hose lashing like hell’s elephant. The helicopter carries a tank of helium cryogen for food storage and magnetic resonance systems. The heat of the fireball envelops the tank and pushes the helium above its boiling point. It tries to revert to a gas but it can’t: no room in here! For an instant the tank holds back tons of super-pressurized liquid helium trying to boil off into gas. Then a seam fails, and every molecule inside flashes to steam. The result is a BLEVE: a boiling liquid expanding vapor explosion. It ruptures the kerosene fire and kills the luckier men instantly. The inert helium snuffs the fire and replaces it with a zone of asphyxiation and paradoxical cold. The blast wave slaps the lab complex’s tunnels taut and snaps the laundry lines in Tawakul.

Maybe you knew what that was already. Not me!

Is... is that what the blast wave resulting from a BLEVE would do, under those circumstances? Look, I'm not saying it isn't. I'm not casting doubt. I'm just saying, I have no clue.

Did Seth Dickinson do some sort of calculation, here, to make sure this made sense? How much research did he do, how much homework? Did he run simulations?

This stuff reads like he did. It reads like he was so careful, so laboriously conscientious about the science and engineering details, that he just has to tell you everything he learned along the way, or else it would all be for naught.

The book knows about military hardware. Oh god does it know about military hardware. The following excerpt is merely a drop from an ocean:

A column of Spetsnaz BMD-4s roll south down the riverside road, bristling with hundred-millimeter rifles and thirty-millimeter autocannon and anti-tank missiles and active hard-kill defenses. Spetsnaz riding atop their transports watch every incremental tick of the compass. Brand new Azart-P1 radio sets squall with static, still picking up the aurorae hidden behind the low gray sky.

Seth, is there anything you don't know?

I'm not even touching on the learned, labored excursions into history and geopolitics, here – just focusing on the science-y parts for brevity (ha ha, "brevity," I'll be here all night).

But even then, there are plenty more domains of science and engineering left to cover! Behold:

The copper tracks that connect components on the board have been duplicated, as if the etching process was performed twice before the final UV burn. Some of the pin connectors have dwarf copies. The CPU socket is crusted in a dark mass, like over-applied thermal paste.

The world is vast, nearly as vast as my own ignorance of it. Would you believe I have no idea what "over-applied thermal paste" looks like on a circuit board?

Like Seth, I do an arguably excessive quantity of research. Look, I spent a while this morning finding all those quotes, and there's no way I'm going to leave them un-quoted after all that work, okay? Here they come:

The KingFisher can read DNA sequences at targeted locations, but it can’t physically examine the structure of DNA. For that, she needs to get purified DNA extract from the KingFisher machine, then mount the DNA on slides of mica and put them under an atomic force microscope.

But of course. (Smile and nod.)

Did you know that certain ways of getting killed cause you to ejaculate as you die? Clayton does!

"Gunshot trauma to the cerebellum causes post-mortem erection and discharge," Clayton says.

More physics, and some speculative engineering:

The engine that forms the “quill” is a sheared-flow-stabilized Z-pinch fusion rocket. This is a fancy way to say that it turns spin-polarized heavy hydrogen and light helium into a continuous thermonuclear explosion. This is itself a fancy way to say that it runs on a rolling nuclear fireball. The magnetically confined tailpipe puts out about 100 grams of helium-4, protons, loose neutrons, and unburnt hydrogen-helium fuel every second. Add gamma and X-rays for taste, and, in situations where you need extra thrust at the cost of efficiency, dump some extra mass into the beam as a kind of afterburner. The resulting exhaust plasma moves at 3,500 kilometers per second: Mach 10,000, or about 1 percent of lightspeed.

Even more:

Some of the atoms take direct gamma-ray hits to their nuclei, breaking apart the strong-force bonds that tie protons to neutrons: a process called photodisintegration.

Did we really need to be told, after having this phenomenon explained to us, that it was called "photodisintegration"?

I mean, maybe we did. Or at least, maybe I did.

Since, you know.

Since I didn't know that, before.

Of course I didn't.

----

One last time: Is this bad? If so, why?

Maybe the problem is that I've written too much fiction, myself. (And SF, even, sometimes.)

And so, I can no longer look at this stuff and just think, "ooh, cool science facts, described in a flashy way. Fun!"

Instead, I just feel an immediate, intimate sense of exhaustion.

"God, how much work this must have been. How long it must have taken to gather all this info, and double-check it, and integrate it with the story in the right places."

(The fact that it has to actually suit the story means that a lot of this kind of "homework" never even makes it to the page, because the plot points that might once have required it get edited out or modified! Ugh, I'm feeling drained just typing this.)

Exhaustion – and self-doubt.

"God, so many things to potentially get wrong in an embarrassing way. So many fields that I'm an amateur-at-best in. And since I'm writing fiction, I'm taking those fields 'out of distribution,' taking them places that have never been studied by their real-world practitioners! Fuck, I have to make novel predictions! I'm screwed. Everyone is going to know exactly how much of an idiot I am."

This isn't just about science, mind you. It's about everything. Writing fiction inherently requires one to assume a posture of staggering arrogance, or what would be staggering arrogance in any other context.

"Here's what happened, to these people who are not like me, in all these places I've only visited, at most. Here is exactly what they did and said and even thought, inside their heads, where no one else could see. How the hell would I know, you ask? It's simple: I know everything. I know all the things there are to know, about all the things that exist. (And the ones that don't exist, for that matter.)"

I do manage to assume the posture, at least for long enough to get the words written when I want them written. But outside of that trance-like state, I start to doubt myself.

Who am I to do this thing? My ignorance is vast, nearly as vast as the world of which I'm ignorant.

And it's there, in that world, that they live. The readers. Aren't they going to notice how badly I'm getting it all wrong? They will, won't they?

This is neurotic, I know.

And so, perhaps the only thing that we're learning here is the following:

A) I am a writer who is very intellectually insecure, and

B) Exordia is a novel with a majestic stock of implicit intellectual self-confidence.

Is that bad? Could it be bad, "objectively," apart from my issues? I mean, surely not, right?

Nonetheless, I notice that reading Exordia filled me with this kind of tetchy, defensive intellectual competitiveness – which is a thing that most books do not do to me, though "my issues" remain a constant.

Perhaps – to psychologize myself further – this objection is downstream from the others, and has no life of its own. Perhaps I just felt annoyed with the book for other reasons, and at the same time felt like the book was asserting itself to be superior to me in some sense, and so I felt a need to say:

"No, all of this is bad somehow, because if it were good it would mean this whole book is good – and that would have dire implications for my own work, given how similar-and-yet-maybe-inferior it is to the incredibly-annoying-and-yet-objectively-superior novel Exordia."

Which is... extremely neurotic, and self-regarding, and also barely even makes sense. I don't want it it just be that, but maybe it is.

(The legitimately high-quality prose did not help, in this respect. It really is good! Five hundred and twenty-nine small-print pages of good. It's so fucking polished, way moreso than anything I could ever imagine putting out. And so fucking clever, so fucking smart...)

(Jeez. Get it together, man.)

----

However, there is one more thing that I notice.

There are works of fiction that make me feel smart, and works of fiction that make me feel dumb.

And I think, all else being equal, it is preferable to make the reader feel smart. Not by cheating, not by lowering your intellectual standards to what you imagine the reader can handle. But by trusting them, and then giving them something hard in a way you trust them to digest themselves.

Rather than... I don't know, bludgeoning them into cowed reverence through sheer force of accumulated, exhaustive, exhausting showing-off?

I don't know how objective this quality is, this feel-smart/feel-dumb thing. I'm sure it's reader-relative to some extent, maybe a huge extent. Maybe it varies so much that it's not even worth talking about in the abstract; you just gotta hope the right reader finds your stuff, and feels smart.

Still, here I am, talking about it.

What defines the works that "make me feel smart"?

Mainly that they are complicated and difficult by virtue of the complicated and difficult novelties they create, as part of the creative act that they are. They involve things which are equally hard for anyone to wrap their mind around, because no one had ever needed to wrap their mind around such things at all, before the work existed.

That, and the fact that these works – despite being inherently complicated and difficult – do not talk down to you, or hold your hand too much.

They act kind of like you already know what their deal is – which you don't, but then again, no one does. (The playing field is level.)

They say:

"Congratulations. You have passed the entrance exam. Welcome to the class. It will be hard, but I trust you to do your best. If you aren't smart enough now, perhaps you will become so, by your own efforts, by the end. Good luck."

They expect the reader to be a genius, but they know, deep down, that the reader is not really the right sort of genius – not yet, anyway. That is the point of presenting the challenge: so that you will rise to it, and see a new kind of thing, beyond what you had believed to be the horizon.

This is how I feel about Homestuck, say, or The Quincunx.

Or The Lymond Chronicles, or The Recognitions, or Ulysses.

Some of these are extremely dense with learned and carefully prepared authorial research. And, where this is the case, they are certainly not shy about showing it to you.

And yet, these works make me feel smart.

And then, there are works like Exordia, which make me feel dumb as fuck.

The end!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

An acidic gentle embrace

Xenomorph x fem!reader

warning : mention of dead, fluff/comfort (as far as this goes with the xenomorph and the film in general), wounds, no use of y/n, the xenomorph is very ooc probably but for a little cute monster you have to sacrifice something

Summary : A short trip it would have been, or so they had thought when they boarded the spaceship just a few minutes ago…and now it was apparently just the four of them on the run from a monster that was out to kill them, or caring?

info : Omg it has stuck with me since i watched the film with a friend anyway have fun with this little something and i was Inspired from THIS post check it out and the blog from @spicybunni :)

ps : The gif is really everything from @crybabyryo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Death nothing but death would await them if they stayed here even a few moments longer. She knew that, Rain knew that and Andy knew that.

They knew it from the moment they heard the hissing, the scratching of the black claws and the watery slime that spread across the floor as the mouths reached for them and the acid threatened to dissolve them.

It wasn't a hunt, it was a death sentence when both sides knew that only the lift that stood between them would mean freedom, the ship would turn on and all they had to do was get back to the hangar…while they had to deal with gravity and non-gravity.

Every time the sirens sounded they heard Rain's calls and the weight that came over them seemed to pull them off the ladder.

Threatened to pull them straight back into theclaws of this being, this acid-bearing being or Xenomorph as Bishop had told them before all hell broke loose.

,,Just a few more metres! Kay's got the ship ready, we can do this!" Rain shouted from above her as she flung her friend a few metres above her to Andy with a sweep of her arm as gravity was switched off.

But now this creature was on her and maybe it was space, maybe it was her rapid heartbeat or the pain coursing through her body as she felt herself becoming more and more resigned to the fact that she might not get out of here.

It might be okay if she could carve out time for her friends for her family that she never really had except for the last few hours when they all got closer somehow.

,,Just keep going up, don't worry!" she heard her voice reply back almost automatically, the look she cast upwards telling her that Andy's silent backward glance understood, a no need for understanding when they both knew she wasn't going to make it.

Climbing further feeling the weight of the gun on her back she knew it was the last chance and it was okay so it was the right thing to do.

,,Andy! My weapon….now!" she shouted as she hauled it off her back, caught on the ladder and with another shrill sound the gravity switched off again and with a reasonably well-timed throw the android took her weapon out of the air.

She heard Rain's scream and heard Andy's thanks, but her friend's screams soon joined the creature's hiss and she looked down to see the waves coming closer, ,,Come on! You beasts, here I am!" she screamed at the black creature that slithered towards her and she grabbed the small handgun and fired, knowing that she only had this moment, that her last look up showed her that it had worked, that she could at least buy her friends some time.

But the shots all missed, whether it was her trembling hands or her giving up she didn't know, what she did know was that she aimed her last shot at the ladder as gravity threatened to kick in again.

,,Come on make it quick" she hissed and for a moment she flew around the shaft until with another shrill sound gravity kicked in again and she fell with a scream.

She heard the metallic clang as the ladder scraped to the floor and walls, shattering and soon they would land, probably with a broken neck or worse alive for these creatures.

Closing her eyes just waiting for the moment she heard the hissing screeches of the aliens that seemed to be around her, she braced herself for pain for the end...as the air was forced out of her lungs and she felt the weight of gravity bearing down on her…

But pain she did not feel.

Yelping as her hands touched something hard, something that had wrapped itself around her waist and had no intention of letting go, she looked directly into the face of the creature.

It just looked at her with its sharp teeth, a superior smile if you could call it that as she felt the firm tail continue to wrap around her, wrapping around her hips, supporting her legs and resting the spike on her shoulders, she was exactly where it wanted her to be.

The dangerously spiky tail was hard chitin-like and yet it handled its spike with care as the black creature slowly pulled her towards it.

She heard her whimper the fear go through her as she just let this simple movement happen, ,,Stay-Stay away" escaped her lips as her hands clawed at its tail which the Xenomorph didn't even seem to notice.

The power in the tail, the power this creature had to kill her, it had used to lift her up with almost a demonstration of what it could do.

Showed what it could do to her and still decided to gently hold her as if it owned her and she had no choice.

Instead, she tried to push away as it ran one of its claws over her arm as if it were trying to feel her, ,,No-Not-please…can-can you understand me?" she dared to ask.

Wincing as the sharp claws ran over the cut on her arm the creature let out an almost silent hiss as it looked at the red blood that didn't resemble its own.

As two worlds clashed unequally, a human woman fragile fleshy helplessly wrapped by the perfect creature without feelings seemed not to care about her emotions.

This tongue other than its tail other was so grotesque that it did not match the long enveloping almost protective something, it did not give itself to her words and yet she continued to hold the movements of the muscles or whatever it was that pressed tensely against her body in the pointed tail.

It wouldn't let her go and she realised as if they both knew she could do nothing against the alien and despite the fact that she was inferior to this thing.

It still chose to be gentle.

She held her bloodied hand out to the creature, trembling slightly, and saw that it seemed to be sniffing as if it was trying to gather information.

,,This is-is blood in me, you-you see," she said seemed to choke on her stammering voice, aware of the overall irony of the situation and yet seemingly more certain that it would not kill her immediately.

Not knowing if it understood, instead whimpering in fear as she saw the tongue-like thing.

She couldn't tell if it wanted her blood as she was still waiting for her death to come, if not through the creature then through the wounds and if they weren't fast enough then through the universe which would swallow them all up.

Swore to herself that it would rip her hand to shreds, throwing her to the ground dead…but no instead it seemed to taste her blood the mix of overly watery saliva covering her hand unpleasant but not harmful as the Xenomorph used its claw to gently pat her on the head trying to soothe her.

But it was more like someone was almost hitting her on the head it was so strong, ,,Th-Thanks" she just said, and gasped at it as another rumble and beep went through the spaceship.

In all this she had almost forgotten what was happening around her and the creature seemed to have forgotten too as it hissed and pulled her closer but still not killing her.

She didn't know what it wanted and screamed in fear again as the alien moved quickly on all fours and began to crawl around, pulling her with it but not once did she hit the floor or the walls in the opposite direction, the Xenomorph was careful not to hurt her.

She was sure that she might be fed to the others or would be used as a tool as a cocoon imaginations that threatened to bring tears to her eyes as she disappeared into the shafts with the Xenomorph.

But even though it was a little narrow she found herself metres deep in like a shrouded room in which to her great shock she saw these crawling little creatures she had seen what these monsters could do to her, to her body and insides.

She scratched and clawed at the tail trying to get away wishing she had her weapon back as she saw one of the little creatures jump towards her.

A scream from her ‘saviour’ the Xenomorph protected her and slowly plopped her down in the middle of this nest on something soft that looked like an old blanket or something.

Before she could even move away, however, the tail wrapped itself around her again and the Xenomorph placed itself next to her, seeming to lie down.

,,Thank you…thank you for saving me," she said, carefully placing her hand on the creature's head, which hissed quietly and tried to relax.

As the other creatures snuggled up to her body, probably enjoying her warmth, perhaps these complex, deadly creatures could feel something after all, the incidental thought occurred to her.

Even though she was surrounded by death everywhere, the Xenomorph that was with her seemed to be looking for something like maybe comfort in the face of impending death and maybe it wasn't so bad.

Maybe it was just that in the end as she cuddled up to the creature lightly she realised that it was all right after all instead of dying alone.

So it was that by the end the creatures were almost cuddling up to the two of them as the spaceship came closer and closer to the metreoites and in the end they were all peacefully together for the first time in death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@an-absolute-waste-of-space , @bonkbunn , @uscss-prometheus

[johnegbertdotcom]

Famous!Reader x hamzah

A/n: boi 1st time writing... don't judge I thought of this idea higher then a hoe okay

Warnings: just two cute ahh bihs who really really want eachother

Hamzah almost couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Almost.

You had posted a very passionate rant on tiktok, gushing about how much you love slushy noobz and how you could only dream of collabing with them.

The fact that you even knew about him and Martin—let alone appreciated their humor—shook him. He had always imagined you as the type to be elegant, sophisticated, maybe even too mature for the kind of chaotic energy he and Martin had thrived on. But realizing that you shared their sense of humor? That you actually found them funny? That just made his crush on you grow by tenfold.

But hamzah wasn't the only one nursing what was thought to be a "one-sided" crush.

You had been interested in Slushy Noobz—especially Hamzah—for what felt like forever. Your crush had been planted quietly in the background around the same time your career had exploded. It felt almost symbolic, the way both your stardom and this giddy infatuation grew almost side by side. You’d landed a few small roles in indie films, and then—seemingly overnight—one of those films blew up. Suddenly, you weren’t just “up and coming", you were practically everywhere.

You became the definition of “everyone wants to be her.” Despite that, you never let the fame go to your head. You stayed grounded, still posting regularly on your YouTube channel, sharing vlogs, behind-the-scenes moments, and your genuine self with fans. That relatability only made Hamzah fall harder.

With shaking fingers, a pounding heart, and a confidence that hamzah didn't even know we had in him, typed out a DM on Instagram:

"collab?"

He immediately threw his phone onto his bed like it had caught fire. Adrenaline shot through his body as he replayed everything in his head a thousand times.

Around thirty minutes later, you responded.

You were losing it. Hamzah had messaged you. THE Hamzah?? (Of course he did, do you even know who you are?)

You replied almost immediately:

“Are you serious?? If you are, when, where, and with who???”

Hamzah stared at your reply like it was a hallucination. He reread it five times, heart hammering in his chest. You were excited. You wanted this. He immediately screenshot it and sent it to Martin with the caption:

“BRO SHE SAID YES.”

Martin replied in all caps, “SHUT UP?!?!” followed by a dozen skull emojis and a GIF of someone passing out dramatically.

Meanwhile, Hamzah was trying to compose the most casual-sounding response in the world… while internally spiraling.

“Yea lol I’m serious. Could do something chill for YouTube first, or if you’re down, maybe something for both our channels?”

Sent. Again, the phone got tossed.

You, on the other hand, had your phone clutched in both hands, laying flat on your bed, staring at the screen with a face-splitting grin. You were texting your best friend at rapid speed:

“I think I’m gonna die. Hamzah just asked me to collab?? Like… we’re actually gonna film together??”

The two of you went back and forth for a few minutes, laying out a plan. You agreed on something fun and interesting for your channels—something low-pressure, maybe a challenge or Q&A style video that would let your natural chemistry show. You settled on flying out to Canada and meeting up with Hamzah there in around two weeks.

The day of the collab came fast. Too fast.

You walked into the studio with your usual positive aura, your makeup was soft and glowy, and your hair looked effortlessly beautiful (even though it definitely had taken quitea bit of effort), and then you saw him.

Hamzah was leaning against the counter in a hoodie, his signature grin in place, but his eyes widened just slightly when he saw you. You both just… froze for a second. It wasn’t awkward, more like a quiet shock that this was actually real now.

“You’re taller than I thought,” you said first, trying to break the ice.

He laughed. “You’re exactly as cool as I thought.”

That made you blush—just slightly, but enough that Hamzah noticed.

The collab started off smooth. You filmed a “Who Knows Me Better” game—Martin had joined via FaceTime and was yelling answers from his kitchen. There was laughter, chaotic yelling, inside jokes forming on the spot, and more than a few lingering glances that both of your fans would definitely pick up on.

After filming, you two sat on the couch while the cameras were off, finishing your drinks and scrolling through the footage.

“This was fun,” Hamzah said, glancing over at you. “Way more fun than I thought.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow, high praise.”

“No, I mean…” He trailed off, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I just didn’t expect it to feel this easy. Being around you.”

You looked at him, your heart thudding louder than it should. “Same. I thought I’d be more nervous.”

He smiled at that—soft, boyish, kind of shy. “So… should we do this again sometime?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Depends. Is it a collab… or a date?”

Hamzah froze for a beat, stunned, then grinned like an idiot.

“Both?”

You laughed. “Deal.”

---

[cy-cyborg]

Tips for writing and drawing amputee characters: Stump Scarring

This was something I had originally intended to mention in this post but felt it deserved its own separate post.

A lot of people, when drawing and designing amputee characters, draw their characters with these big, gnarly looking scars all over the stump. I get why people do this, but in reality, most amputees have stumps that look more like this:

The only scarring that is inherent to amputation (meaning most amputees have) is a very thin line right at the tip of the stump that comes from where the stump was sewn shut. After 5-10 years though, these thin incision scars will fade to be nearly invisible in most folks other than the indent it usually leaves in the skin.

Of course, there are exceptions! My own legs are covered in heavy scarring like the pictures below.

but typically, you only see this in amputees who lost their limb in ways that required them to also need skin grafts, such as from a burn (fire or acid), gangrene, some types of rapid-onset sepsis, or particularly brutal animal attacks.

For context, I used scars from meningococcal as reference here.

I think this is another reason a lot of people, particularly in 2D comics and animation, cover their amputee character's stumps, because they think all amputees have scars like the ones in the second image and I'll be honest, that's a lot to draw when you're drawing it over and over again, but unless your amputee also needed skin grafts bcuase of their injury/illness, their stumps will look more like the first images.

Fun fact: on particularly pale skin, scars can change colour depending on temperature. scars have less circulation and the blood vessels are closer to the skin, which means if you don't have a lot of melanin, your scars can turn a grey-ish purple colour like so:

This information is brought to you by an especially pasty white person in the southern hemisphere (where it's winter atm) who's scars haven't seen the sun since june lmao.

A quick final note: If you look up "burn scars" or any other similar type of large scarring on google a lot of what you get are fresh scars, so they're going to look different than the ones here. On pale skin, large scars like the ones above start out very dark red and will fade to look more like the images here. The same is true for dark skin, typically fresh scars will be much darker in colouration and will fade to be closer to the natural skin tone with time, though on both, they will always be very visible. Some types of scarring on darker skin tones can cause the skin to become lighter, but they don't usually turn entirely light pink like I've seen some folks draw. This is why it's so important to look up references of the type of scar your character has AND how that looks on their skin tone.

And as always, listen to POC and seek out the recourses specifically made by them, especially if you're drawing characters with darker skin tones. Their lived experience will always beat my "what I found through internet research and from talking to friends"

[recitedemise]

He isn't often met with someone so shameless. Proud, sure, and prone to working under his considerably thick skin, but admittedly, her flavor of rapscallion's more enjoyable than most. That he's a masochist, of course, doesn't exactly go completely unnoticed. Still, when Aneska smiles so sweet, her air all clever and a lot a bit serpentine, Gale fails to worry to the rattle of her teasing. He rolls with it, in fact, and pipes the flute. "Quite right. How remiss of me," he easily rejoinders, finger tap-tapping his tome. Tutting, but in a fun, scholarly way. "Come to think of it, I struggle to find a word more apt in surmising the host of your endless qualities. A single look at you would spring the image of candlelit dinners and the most somber poetry on those greyest of days. Make no mistake, I've been made entirely aware of your more passionate nature. And," he tacks on, "your compassionate one, too." Of course, last he checked, it took no time at all to sample the depths of her kindness. When he'd confessed to his orb, that cold, cold, gnawing in the deep of his marrow, he'd anticipated fear and a fair bit of spite. To be sure, he'd suffered such heartaches in varying intensity, but from this woman before him with her curious wings, it had been, he remembers, none such sorrow.

For all her mystery, she boasts a quick-to-like heart. Gale, as it were, wants most to be liked.

Yet, considering his hopeless situation, perhaps it makes sense why even a middling kindness would feel like gold. Naturally, however, it would be gold itself that comes dangling before him. Blinking, Gale feels several ways gobsmacked. It really is lovely, the necklace, not at all some ten-copper bauble from some odd-eyed vendor. It has with it heft, and with it, too, the tell tale evidence of considerable craftsmanship. He breathes, feeling the pulsing magic trickling from the bell. He doesn't need quite yet, but he can discern the richnes and intensity. His pulse jumps, a slight squeeze crawling up his chest. On the swell of the pendant, he notes an 'A'.

Evidence it's hers: Aneska. He's speechless. How refreshing. Disbelief, tangled messily, too, with open endearment, finds him, the brown of his gaze warming deep, deep, impossibly. "Your good luck charm. Admittedly, it'd been a near thing what with the enormity of your gift, but don't believe for a second that that escaped my notice." He leans in a little, amazed. Aneska lets it hang there, and Gale studies, heart panging, a steep feeling fermenting into syrup in his heart. Thumb brushing it, the engraving catches at his skin. Ultimately, however, reverently, touched, he folds her hands in his. "I'm—" Astonished? Confounded? Baffled? Well, yes, all of these things and several more, but what Gale settles on breathlessly is a quiet, "flattered." Fluttery, too. His pulse flits like a butterfly. "You are entirely too generous with me, Aneska. I can hardly accept something that holds such...gravity. That you would entrust it to me is enough to soothe a troubled wizard's heart, that, I assure you. This is yours. Another trinket will sate my orb." Carefully, he guides their cupped hands back toward her tummy. Looking up at her, there rings a sobering humanity, perhaps even humanity from where he's seated. His palms are smoothed, calloused only by his staff. The night, dragging, wreathes her silver. "Besides, you're rather in need of better luck yourself—though if you won't begrudge me for it, I may feel inclined to stray less frequently from you. A man can hardly spare whatever fortune he get can, I'd argue. It's exceptionally lovely... I'd have expected to see it around your neck." Why isn't it? He pulls his hands back.

oh , how he amuses her so , this man who so easily conjures words both honeyed & scathing. she is certain , unwaveringly so , that her antics have much the same effect on him. & so aneska smiles in her own strange way , lips curled upwards demure & toothless , eyes gleaming with devilry , & satisfaction. " oh , gale , don't make me sound so cold. it's not me that would have you scrounging through our unwanted loot for whatever traces of the weave you might find. i think you'll find i'm more romantic than that. i'm nice enough not to take this away from you for daring to challenge me , aren't i ? " in her typical fashion , words are spoken slowly , methodically , each syllable it's own performance. it's almost masterful ⏤ how she so sweetly draws out his name , how she briefly & pointedly casts her judgemental gaze upon their campmates , how she allows the warmth of her smile to break through & lighten what mischief plays in her town. those fleshy wings perched upon her back betray her. one might think her a fae , or better yet , a fiend , seeing how she so delights in acting wicked.

& yet , despite her theatrics , she is no more nefarious than the rest of their brigade. so when she pulls that coveted prize from it's hiding place , what she reveals is so quaint , so lovely , she nearly feels the need to drop it upon his lap , if only to denigrate the things value. it's a necklace , of sorts. a circular , golden bell hung upon an unceremonious bronze chain. there's an A carved upon its surface , surrounded by sweeping lines like wings. it clinks faintly , metallically , as it dangles from her pinched fingers ⏤ & there is , unsurprisingly she's sure , that familiar warm flush of magic that seems to dance upon the air at its call.

" see ? it's not just magical , it's beautiful. all gold , real gold. lovingly handcrafted for the adored heiress to the moshfegh estate ⏤ that would be me , of course. & kept in pristine condition. " she preens , smiles brightly as the bell's chain is given an emphatic little tug & it gives a little song. aneska would forget herself in her histronics , one of these days. " my good luck charm. though i fear my being in possession of it is a bit redundant. i thought you might be able to find a use for it , & appreciate it's artistry still. "

[heartsaturn]

“sidewalk chalk covered in snow” - ln4

lando norris x fem!reader

summary: reader and lando reminisce on their memories of the 2024 season while in a cabin on a snowy cliffside

warnings: none.

a/n: this is me announcing my return even though i haven’t been gone for that long. i was rlly stressed out at the time that i decided to make my christmas writing event and had to stop it so i hope you all understand and accept my apology with this little blurb!

“i love being up here with you,”

you and lando had just finished a full day of being out in the snow and having fun on a mountain with your friends. now you are sitting by the fireplace in your cabin just with lando. the moment feels as if it should be paused or else it will float away.

“yeah? i’m glad you could come with me this year,” lando says in reply. he gently wraps his arm around you and buries his face into the crook of your neck for warmth.

“lando, your face is cold,” you say softly with a small laugh.

“and your neck is warm so i need it to make my face not cold,” lando replies. his words are slightly muffled due to the fact that his icy face is still stuffed in your neck.

being up in the mountains with lando feels so calm after the hectic formula 1 season. the whole season felt like fire and everything was going at a rapid pace. when you and lando reach winter break, it feels like everything just slows down. it feels like you can enjoy the moment more when everything isn’t happening so quickly.

despite the past season being very chaotic, it was very memorable. lando got his first formula 1 win, he somehow ended up in a title race, and mclaren won the constructors championship.

“i’m so proud of you. you know that?” you say softly after a moment of silence passes.

“what for?” lando asks.

“just for being you. you accomplished so much this season and you deserve every bit of it,”

you can feel lando smile into your neck at those words, though he doesn’t say anything in reply. he lets one of his hands graze up and down your stomach in a comforting motion.

“i can feel your smile, lando,” you mention. you bring a hand up to his hair and run it through his soft curls that feel frigid under your touch.

“that’s because i’m happy. i’m glad that i can be here with you in this moment and look back on the season and be grateful for everything that has happened to me and see you in those memories,”

lando’s sweet words send butterflies erupting in your stomach. now a soft smile grows on your own face. as you both sit there smiling like idiots, you let the moment sink in and capture it before it too is able to become a distant memory.

word count: 415