#this is the last i'm probably gonna say on this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

venomvalley · 15 hours ago

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NEON CARNIVORES

dom!sevika x fem!reader x pathetic!vi | 5.9k words

SUMMARY: You're Sevika's long-time girlfriend. Vi is Sevika's new roommate. What could possibly go wrong?

TAGS: 18+ only! smut (porn w/ plot, voyeurism, fingering, oral, threesome). angst, addiction, mental health issues, sex as therapy. modern!zaun au. complicated character dynamics.

NOTES: been working on this for so long and i just hope its good. split this into two parts btw so.. look out!!

-> READ ON AO3 | ARCANE MASTERLIST

Saturday morning rolls around with a blare of your work alarm—an early shift to cover for your sick coworker, with the added bonus of overtime for this pay period.

Sevika isn’t too happy about seeing you go, arm wound tight around your waist, grumbling out a throaty protest when you try to wriggle beneath her hold.

You spend every weekend at your girlfriend's new apartment. Twice the size of her last, with an extra bedroom neither of you ever use outside of temporary storage. She’s been weighing the idea of getting a roommate, with the recent hike in rent by her scummy landlord, and you would jump at the opportunity, if not for her insistence that you take things slow.

(You’ve been dating for two years. In Zaunite terms, you might as well be married already.)

Ten minutes later, after wrestling for your freedom from the cage of her bed, you shuffle into the kitchen with a loud yawn. Wearing nothing but a long shirt and a pair of random underwear.

You freeze at the sight of an unknown woman stood at the sink, scrubbing a dish. Pink hair, broad shoulders, intricate tattoos. Dressed similarly to you.

Who the fuck…?

“Uh, hi,” you say, hid half-behind the wall to conceal your state of undress. The woman turns to look at you, and—

(Pot of boiling water, meet frog.

Inevitability is a crazy, crushing thing when combined with your power of extreme denial. One moment, you're sitting in a jacuzzi, and the next, your skin is peeling away from the bone.

A slow, sanguine death.)

“Oh, hey,” she replies, reaching to dry her hands off on a nearby towel. “You're Sevika's girl, right?”

You nod your head and offer up your name, stepping out to stand behind the lip of the counter.

“Name’s Vi. I'm the new roommate.” Ah. Would've been nice if Sevika had warned you beforehand. “I'm just gonna,” a thumb points to the once-spare bedroom, “crawl back in my hole now.”

“Right. Good morning, Vi.”

“Yeah. Morning.”

You return to Sevika’s bedroom with a scowl on your face and a complaint on your tongue, shutting the door a bit harder than you meant to. Her shape beneath the sheets jolts at the sound, head popping up from the pillow.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you had a new roommate?”

She blinks, swiping her palm over each eye, jaw dropping to make room for a loud yawn. “Oh, her.”

“Yeah. Her.”

“Relax. Vi stays in her room all day,” spoken mid-stretch, her lone arm reaching for the lip of the headboard.

“That’s not the point. What if I had walked out there naked?”

“Then she’d get one hell of a show.”

You physically deflate, shoulders curling inward, and shuffle over to the bed. Sevika scoots over to give you room, then lifts the sheets in invitation.

“You know I'm joking, right?” she asks, the curve of her nose brushing against your cheek.

“I know… ‘m just embarrassed.”

“Don't be. Vi has three braincells to her name. No chance she even noticed.” Sevika pauses a moment, then gives a lazy shrug of her shoulder. “Probably.”

Thus begins a new era of your relationship: Roommate Woes. Except, Vi isn't the problem here. She keeps to herself, does her chores, pays rent on time via her night shift job (whatever that is). Sevika, on the other hand, never learned subtlety, and coupled with her insatiable libido, you experienced PDA on levels previously unknown to humankind.

But gone are the days of her bending you over the kitchen counter, or fucking you on the couch, or being as loud as she wants—just to spite the cantankerous old lady living next door. While Vi works, Sevika sleeps. Opposite schedules that leave you no room for sexual intimacy. As such, both you and Vi share in this odd stall-state of perceived encroachment. Her, encroaching on your relationship; you, encroaching on her home.

So. In an amiable show, you decide to talk with Sevika about inviting her to your weekly movie night.

The two of you stand in the kitchen mid-discussion, making food to much on as the television plays the movie's menu screen on repeat.

“But why do I have to ask her?”

“Because this was your idea in the first place.” Sevika steps away from the counter with a sigh, hand adorned with a sickly-pink, heart-patterned oven mitt (she swore when you bought it for her that she would never wear it, and now it's the only one she uses). “She won't bite.”

“I think she hates me.” At the crook of her brow, you scoff, voice veering toward whiny. “I’m serious. Every time I come over, she scurries off to her room and I don't see her the rest of the weekend.”

“She does that anyway.”

“It's different, though.”

“… Just knock on the damn door.”

Against your better judgement, you trundle off and away, stopping before the looming pane of wood that separates you from Vi's bedroom.

Really, it's not a big deal. It shouldn't be. But your girlfriend's roommate is a pink-haired enigma, a puzzle stuck in a perpetual state of unsolvable. A disappearing act that, you gotta admit, hurts your ego a bit. You don’t recall saying anything wrong, but maybe, given the circumstances, you should double check that your presence is even wanted. Vi lives here, after all.

So you knock on the door—a few quick raps of your knuckles, just loud enough to grab her attention. You wait for a beat, then another, then another, and just as you turn to leave, the door swings open in a rush of cool air.

Some sort of fan whirs a steady noise from inside her bedroom, the floor strewn with clothes, room dark except for the blue-light halo emanating from her computer. She starts at the sight of you, jolting half a step backward before collecting herself.

“Oh. Sorry, I thought you were—”

“Do you wanna watch a movie with us?” The question comes out in a rush, your synapses a live-wire of anxiety.

Shit. You just want her to like you. Better for all parties involved when you show up every week without fail.

She blinks the kitchen light from her eyes, hand slipping beneath her shirt to scratch at a hip. “What?”

“A movie? Neon Carnivores just came out, and Sevika picked up the DVD after work. It's supposed to be this noir-horror filmed in the Lanes. Thought you might like it.”

“Uh,” a quick shake of her head, “yeah. I'll be there in a minute.”

Then she slams the door in your face.

You shuffle back to the living room, head emptied of all thought. Bewildered. Sevika sits on one end of the couch sans prosthetic, munching on a slice of pizza fresh from the oven. Carefree and oblivious.

“How'd it go?” she asks, bumping her shoulder into yours when you sit down beside her.

“She slammed the door in my face.”

Sevika has the audacity to laugh. To say, “Oh, she's got it bad.”

You land an admonishing smack on her thigh. “Stop, Sev.”

“It's true.” Another bite of her pizza. “You’re all she talks about.”

“What, about how much she hates me?”

“Do you want her to hate you?”

“No.”

“Then shut up.”

Your mouth drops open in half-serious shock, but she continues to eat her stupid slice of pizza and stares at you like she said nothing wrong.

Vi's bedroom door creaks open. A beat of awkward silence passes before she appears in the corner of your eye, weighing her choice of couch or recliner. One glance at Sevika makes up her mind, and Vi takes the cushion beside you. She offers up a tight-lipped smile when you meet her gaze, turning away before you can reciprocate.

The rest of the evening follows a similar pattern: Vi curled up against the armrest while Sevika cuddles you against her side, the movie you chose bathing the room in colors of neon velvet. An indie-arthouse flick hallmarked by practical effects and unusual cinematography.

Sevika spends the last thirty minutes of the movie with her head tucked to her chest, vehemently arguing against the idea of exhaustion every time you wake her up and tell her to go to bed.

When the credits roll, Vi excuses herself, and your girlfriend finally succumbs to your prodding. Kisses you goodnight and shuffles off to bed.

So here you sit, stretched out on the cushions, cold and lonely and mourning the loss of Sevika's weight against you. Some game show continues in the background as you scroll through your phone, leagues away from the exhaustion that usually sends you to bed.

“Hey.”

The sudden greeting jolts you, and you turn around to find Vi stood at the entrance of the small hallway, housing her bedroom on one side and bathroom on the other. Scarred knuckles curled over the wall's edge, almost skittish in her stance.

“Oh. Hey.” You sit up against the armrest, elbow denting the back cushion.

“Where's Sevika?”

“In bed.”

“This early?” A click of her tongue, arm swinging a lazy rhythm as she steps into the living room. “Somebody's getting old.”

The first conversation you've ever had with her, aside from the greetings-in-passing on your way to Sevika's bedroom. But those don't count, right?

“Yeah, I tell her that all the time.”

Then silence. Vi remains awkward behind the couch, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time. Your teeth tug at a piece of stubborn skin on your bottom lip. The show drones on, forgotten in the wake of her presence.

“So. How long have you two been together?” she asks, hands finding comfort in the pockets of her sweatpants.

“Two years tomorrow.”

She exhales a sound halfway between a hum and a grunt, brows lifting clear to her hairline. “Shit. Practically married, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Sevika doesn't believe in marriage. A piece of paper solidifying love? Bunch of bullshit, far as she's concerned. And it isn't that you don't agree, but… well. It would be nice to have the option this deep underground. That useless piece of paper is only reserved for pilties.

“She’s happy with you.”

You blink, and she's circling around the couch. “You think so?”

She plops down in Sevika's recliner, one leg thrown over the armrest. (Sevika would kill her if she knew, but you swear yourself to a vow of silence. An olive branch for a budding friendship.)

“Definitely. She helped me out a few years back. Less of an asshole now, with you in the picture.”

So, they know each other. That makes more sense than Sevika inviting some random stranger to live with her. She's made too many enemies to consider such an idea.

“How'd you two meet?”

Her foot jitters back and forth, shaking the armrest. “She knew my old man when they were young, and when he died a few years ago, she kinda… took me under her wing.”

Vi says nothing else, and you don't intend to pry. But you're curious. Who wouldn't be? Sevika stays tight-lipped whenever Vi’s name comes up in conversation, and she’s the only person you know to answer all your burning questions. Aside from the woman herself.

But you're not there yet. Your nosiness will have to wait.

So you smile and say, “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

When she smiles back with a lopsided quirk of her mouth, you think you might be kind-of-halfway friends.

—

A simple text changes everything.

Hey. Turn your tv up.

Sender: Sevika. Recipient: Vi.

A heat-of-the-moment decision from a brain fogged by hormones and the sight of your bare tits in the mirror while changing into pajamas. Post-anniversary date, mid-makeout in her bed, she grabs her phone and sends The Text.

What follows is a marathon of impressive proportions. A box of sex toys, a bottle of lube, and two very insatiable libidos. You expected this after teasing her all night—kissing her neck on the drive to the restaurant, groping her ass during the post-check bathroom break, babbling about your ideas for sex after the two of you make it home.

She fucks you like she's trying to leave a scar in the mattress, maybe carve your body into the wrinkled sheets. Heavy and hot. Angry. Staking her claim. A routine of feeding you her cock until you cry, then soothing the ache with her mouth, then flipping you over and doing it again.

Then, a shadow under the door, shifting its weight. Sevika doesn't notice, too busy lapping at your wet cunt, but you do. Head tipped upside down over the side of the bed, that little patch of inky darkness is all you can look at.

For a moment, you contemplate saying something. You should say something, but you're selfish, and the looming orgasm that numbs you down to the bone steals away every braincell capable of thought.

You know Vi's been listening. Sevika and subtlety mix as well as oil and water. That fucking text. Her shadow lingers under the door like a spilled-ink stain as you whine and whimper through orgasm number three. Even when your world shifts, and Sevika kneels over your prone form, your gaze remains on the shadow beneath the door. A constant, an anchor to the real world.

Strap buried inside your cunt, Sevika flattens herself along the expanse of your back. The soft plush of her lips ghosts over the shell of your ear.

“We have a visitor,” she mutters, and you shudder beneath her. “What do you say? Should we ask her to join?”

The scary part? You actually think about it. Not exactly crossing the line to consideration, but you entertain the idea. The width of Vi's shoulders spreading your thighs, the softness of her mouth against your skin, the layers of her mullet caught in your fist—

Okay. So you consider it.

“Seriously?” you ask, voice a hissing breath of disbelief.

Sevika mouths along your pulse, the cold metal of her prosthetic hand smoothing up your spine. “She's standing outside for a reason.” A sharp bite to the curve of your shoulder, and an inhale catches between your teeth. “That reason isn't me.”

“I—”

Her posture softens, and her voice along with it. “Just think about it, okay?”

Sweet and tender, a facet of Sevika that she reveals only to you—almost comedic given the circumstances. Dangling the idea of a threesome in front of your face, so blasé about the whole thing that you're afraid to take her seriously. No, it's nothing more than dirty talk. Fantasy.

(The disappointment that knots in your gut doesn't actually exist.

Right?)

Things become… weird after that night. Tense as a band waiting to snap. Vi avoids you like you've caught the plague, lurking at the corner of your vision but never daring to approach. No more late-night conversations on the couch, or sharing the burden of dishes, or trading memes back and forth during the week. Like she never even existed at all.

You fucked up. You don't know how, but you did.

Her absence shouldn't bother you so much, but Sevika obviously cares about her to an extent. Why wouldn't you want Vi to like you? And yeah, maybe you enjoy her being around. She's easy to talk to. A comforting presence that reminds you a lot of Sevika.

Given her indefinite absence from your life, you don't expect your phone to blare with her ringtone on a typical Wednesday night (three thirty-two a.m. to be exact) long after you've fallen asleep. You paw at the nightstand for the familiar rectangle of your phone, bleary-eyed and frustrated at the interruption.

At the sound of her voice when you answer the call, you bolt upright in bed.

Slurred and trembling, weak:

“Fuck, it's late, I know, but my boss won't let me walk and I can't call Sevika like this. Can you just—” rustling on the end of the line, a muffled exchange between two voices that you can't quite hear, “I need a ride home.”

Before she can finish her last sentence, you’re throwing a coat on and snatching your keys from the coffee table. “Where are you?”

“Um,” she sniffles, “Apex Eleven. It's this club near the apartment.”

“I'll be there. Wait for me inside.”

She mumbles in agreement then hangs up.

You know that place. Sevika took you there when you first started dating, and though the night started out awkward in that new-romance-learning-curve way, you eventually coaxed her onto the dance floor after a shot or ten. You shared your first kiss in the parking lot outside, right before throwing up all over her pants.

In the heart of the Lanes, the streets awaken at night. Traffic thickens as you near the strip of bars and clubs and brothels, neon signs blinking in rhythmic disorder. Crowds of people stroll down the sidewalk on either side of the street, a jumble of conversation and thumping music intruding on the silence inside your car.

You pull into the club's parking lot then beeline for the front door. One ID check later, and you step inside the club to meet a thick wall of smoke and the smell of sweat-masking body spray. The floor sticks to your shoes as you skirt the outer edge of the dance floor, pinballed between drunken bodies. A party of overstimulation.

Vi sits slumped at the bar, her pink hair a stand-out amongst the sea of clubgoers, undeterred by the lights that cloak her form in multicolor strobes. The tattoos branching up her bare arms ring familiar.

You sidle up beside her, shaking her by the shoulder. “Hey.”

She sits up at the sound of your voice, eyes squinting in confusion, body drawn tight and angular—preparing for a fight.

After a long, breath-stilling moment, she relaxes. “Oh. Hey.”

You nod toward the exit. “Let’s get you home.”

“Whatever. This place sucks anyway.”

Now, the hard part: dragging her to the car. A task she makes no effort to help you with, still sat at the bar, eyes never leaving your face. Low-lidded and darker than you’ve ever seen them.

“What is it?” you ask, shifting back and forth on your feet. The atmosphere of the club renders you drunk by proxy.

“Fuck, you're pretty.” A hand reaches out to touch your face, palm sweatslick against your jaw, fingers ice-cold as they follow the curve of your skull. “Anybody tell you that lately?”

You grab her wrist and step away, a suggestion written in the tug of your hand. “Sevika. Ya know, my girlfriend?”

She slithers out of the chair, balance precarious as her brain struggles to command her feet. One step, then another, until her shoulder collides with yours. You steady her with an arm slung across her back, wincing beneath the drag of her weight as you begin to walk.

None of your Vi-shaped puzzle pieces fit together. No red string to connect all the details. During all your conversations, she kept topics shallow, information casual: likes the color blue, and exercise, and video games; grew up rough; has a sister and a nameless ex. Harmless breadcrumbs to leave behind.

And now there’s a brand new tidbit, filed away under ???????

Fuck, you’re pretty.

She’s far from sober. People say anything when they get a few drinks circulating in their blood, and she passed that threshold a while ago. Mystery solved.

Vi climbs into the passenger seat of your car and curls up against the console. When you buckle her seatbelt, she barely stirs. Something tender and aching rises at the sight of her, impossibly fragile and motionless, just before you close the door.

The drive back to her shared apartment is silent. She adjusts her position every few minutes, grumbling something under her breath—thankfully, still breathing.

Dragging Vi over to elevator is another mountain to climb. She stubs up once she recognizes the run-down shell of her apartment building, slurs something about Sevika and disappointment, and you don't understand the issue. There's no way you could drag her up four flights of stairs to your elevator-less apartment.

“Besides,” you continue, “Sevika's asleep. It'll be alright.”

It takes even more reassurance before Vi finally agrees to walk. You lead her through the small hallway, into the elevator, and up to the third floor.

Before you can find the key in one of Vi's many pockets, the apartment door swings open, and there stands—

“Sev. I didn't think you'd be awake.”

You find no anger in her features, but they contort all the same. Behind her shines the kitchen light, a small halo that cuts through the empty shadows plaguing the small living room.

Her eyes cut to Vi, sharp and piercing. “Women's intuition.”

"How'd you know?” Vi asks, head lowered, unable to meet the gaze of the woman before you.

Already, she stands a bit straighter, weight easing off your shoulder. No doubt sobered up by shock.

Sevika shrugs. Takes a drag of her cigarette. Says nothing, but steps aside to allow you both entry. And once inside, she takes Vi by the arm not slung over your shoulders.

“I got her, honey,” she says, stepping forward in silent request for you to take the cigarette from her mouth.

They disappear into Vi's bedroom. You take a seat on the couch and pass the time by chewing on the filter and watching the paper burn with each lung-filling puff. A fitting end to a night of self-destruction.

A few minutes later, Sevika comes back. Worn down to the bone, wet around the eyes.

“Is she okay?” you ask, scooting over to give her room to sit down.

She collapses beside you, head tipping back against the couch. “I don't know.”

A bad sign. Whatever they talked about, Sevika can't immediately fix, and the worry carves wrinkles into her brow.

Your fingers find the soft thickness of her thigh, comfort stamped in the press of your lips to her shoulder. She's warm, impossibly so. Worked up. Angry, even.

“The deal when she moved in was that she stayed sober.” She scrubs her hand over her face, frustration tangible, thickening up the air that surrounds you. “I told her that job was a bad fucking idea.”

“Is that what you helped her with a few years back?” you ask, voice never daring to rise above a whisper. “Getting sober, I mean.”

“She told you about that?”

“She just said you helped her with a situation.”

A stretch of tense silence, where nothing you say can fix the situation, and Sevika has no interest in wasting the energy on words.

“She wants to talk to you, by the way. You don't have to, but… Vi's a good person, she's just…”

“Been through a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

You're not angry. Worried, yes, but angry? Your Vi-shaped puzzle sharpens into view: a bad childhood, a sister she either doesn't talk to, an ex she refuses to name, a struggle with addiction. One awful event after another, woven into bone and muscle and joint and tendon. Staining everything she touches.

(Really, you don’t know why you care so much.)

When you open the door to Vi's bedroom, she’s laying in bed, tucked beneath the sheets. Staring up at the ceiling, she wipes her face on her shirt.

“Feel like company?” you ask, offering up a smile when she cranes her head to look at you.

The room lay dark, her form a deep splotch of shadow against the wall as she sits up. “Yeah.”

You sit down on the edge of the bed and wait for her to speak.

“I just wanna say that I'm sorry for tonight. I know I should've called Sevika but I was terrified that she would,” she shakes her head, “kick me out.”

“She wouldn't.”

“Well, I know that now, but… sorry for being trouble.”

You shrug. “Better you call me than something bad happen.”

She snorts, pillows creaking beneath her weight. “The worst already has.”

Your jaw aches from the force you exert to keep it shut. Curiosity rears its ugly head once again, but now isn't the time for indulgence.

“You can ask. If anybody deserves to know, it's you.”

“When Sevika helped you a few years ago, what was that about?”

“Oh, that? Funny story, actually.” A sharp sniff. “I was living on the streets at the time, going to bars and clubs every night, fighting for money. Literally, by the way. And one night, this woman walks up to me and says she knew my dad, Vander, before he died.

At that point, I’m ready to knock her out and go back to drinking, but she starts giving me details about his old life that nobody would know. So we go back to her apartment and she’s an asshole about the whole thing, but she helps me get my life straightened out.”

“And after that?”

“I move out on my own. Things are good for a while, but… life always catches up with you, I guess. I start thinking about Vander and my sister and—and Cait, and I start to spiral again. Go back to my old ways.”

Cait. A name for the unforgettable.

“It’s easy, isn’t it?”

The shadow moves, and you think Vi nods her head. “Yeah, it is.”

In a stroke of courage, you move from the end of the bed to its head, and after a bit of searching, you find Vi’s shape beneath the sheets. You lean into her, throwing your arms over her shoulders in an awkward hug. The smell of vodka leaks from her pores, skin sweatslick and sticky, and you can only hope that this brings her comfort.

“You’ll be okay. Maybe not for a while, but horrible things don’t last forever.”

Her hands press against your back, following the curve of your spine. “I’ll take your word for it.”

—

Vi loses herself for a while. She regresses back to some younger, weaker version of herself; back when everything was too much and too big and too scary. She quits her job at the club and starts sharing Sevika's bed at night. Another presence to drive out the demons that plague her.

It happens in the dark.

You're trapped between two very warm, very clingy bodies after a long conversation about boundaries and adaptation and how Vi fits into your life. Sevika tells you that you don't have to stay, that she isn't your responsibility, but you aren't gonna just leave her like this.

(You don't know why you care so much.)

“Can I kiss you?” Vi asks, whispered against the shell of your throat.

The world stops turning. She leans back and rests her head on the pillow, bright eyes wide, bottom lip sucked between her teeth.

Sevika lay right behind you, fitting perfectly against the curve of your spine, arm slung over your waist. That arm tightens, tugging you impossibly closer.

“It's okay,” she says.

Her hips grind against your ass, soft enough that you almost believe it an accident. Soft enough to jump-start the pulse between your legs.

You can't come back from this. Once your lips meet, it's done.

Does Sevika really not mind? Watching you kiss her… whatever Vi is? Friend, responsibility, something inbetween?

Fuck it.

You meet Vi's gaze and nod your head, and her smile flickers beneath the light of the television. As she leans in, her nose brushes yours, and Sevika's buries her face in your shoulder.

Vi kisses you like she loves you, all passionate and needy. Like you mean something to her, for all the ups and downs of your short relationship and her isolating tendencies.

Before Sevika, you never experienced love as a universal truth, giving or reciprocal. No butterflies, or fuzzy feelings, or giddiness at the sight of a lover. But when Vi kisses you, it feels… right. Comfortable. She licks into your mouth and she's warm and soft and impossibly sweet. Tender and careful and savoring.

She pulls away with a sigh, and the hand on your belly moves to cradle your jaw. A turn of your head, and Sevika sucks Vi's taste off your tongue.

It happens quick. The pulse between your legs sparks a fire that threatens full-body consumption. The women that sandwich you in take turns stealing the breath from your lungs, over and over and over again. A competition brews between the two regarding who can turn you into the biggest mess, and while one kisses you, the other nips at your neck and gropes your tits and teases at the seam of your underwear.

You don’t know how things turned out this way, but you aren’t complaining. Not when Vi rucks up your shirt and sucks a nipple into her mouth, and Sevika's lips feel like home against yours. Too much yet not enough, brain dizzy from overstimulation.

“Wait, fuck,” you gasp in a breath when they both part from you, “I just—I need a second.”

So horny you could honestly cry. If Vi wasn't here, you'd be begging Sevika for the strap, face buried in the sheets, ass in the air. They give you time to calm down, and you mourn the loss of their weight and warmth, skin buzzing from the ghostly stamp of their hands.

“Are you okay?” asks Sevika, nosing at the divot of your temple.

“Yeah, just…” you try and fail to suppress the stretch of your lips, “I didn't think you liked to share.”

She exhales an unamused breath, eyes darting to Vi when the latter drapes herself over your middle, hair tickling your chin.

“I'm a special case, right?”

Sevika shoves her off by the shoulder. Says, “Shut up. At least I don't listen in on my roommates—”

Vi stutters a moment then holds up a defensive finger. “Okay, that happened once. Once.”

“Porn exists.” A beat of silence, and Sevika laughs under her breath. “But you don't want porn, do you?”

You're definitely missing context for this conversation, but they argue like you don't even exist in the room.

“Don't,” Vi hisses, rising onto an elbow to glare at Sevika through squinted eyelids. “Seriously, I'll kick your ass.”

“Just ask her.”

Finally, you chime in. “Ask me what?”

Vi's glare turns to pleading, but beside you, Sevika remains stalwart.

“Ask me what?”

“Vi wants to fuck you.”

You blink. The neurons in your brain short-circuit. “For how long?”

“A while,” Vi grumbles, turned on her side, facing away from the two of you.

It's not the idea that surprises you, but the verbal admission. You know how to take a hint, and Vi's slip-up at the club cemented what Sevika already told you as fact.

“It doesn't bother me, if you're worried about that. Brat wants to feel good and she trusts you.” A lazy shrug that jostles your shoulder. “Your choice, honey.”

You look over at Vi to gauge her reaction, and find her already staring at you with pleading eyes. Tender as a healing wound.

It's an easy decision. Easier than your conscience allows. Your memory returns to the night Vi stood outside the bedroom door, when Sevika teased you about inviting her in. She recognized your own attraction before you did. That soft spot on your heart for an unsolvable woman.

“Let's do it.”

The once-playful atmosphere thickens into something anticipatory when Vi crawls between your legs, and your nerves might fray to breaking if not for Sevika’s presence at your side. Always doing what she does best—why you stayed despite her every effort to snuff your relationship out.

As Vi's hands find your inner thighs, Sevika kisses you soft and slow in an effort to tame the wild buck of your pulse.

“Go easy on her,” Sevika says to you, lips stretched in a teasing smile. “I'm sure it's been a while.”

“Fuck you,” Vi mutters, but says nothing in her own defense.

As if it even matters. Your girlfriend serves as the warden of your pussy, and she loves to bark an order or ten. You’re in good hands.

Off come your clothes while the other two remain dressed, a feeling of stark vulnerability that seeks to fry the white matter of your brain. Sevika rubs a comforting hand over your belly, while Vi shoulders your thighs apart.

The first thing you do is reach down to run your fingers through her hair. Soft as you imagined.

She dives in tongue-first, licking you from hole to clit, and groans when your thighs close around her head on instinct. It's all soft, wet heat. Messy from her spit. What she lacks in technique, she makes up for in enthusiasm. Moans so loud against your pussy that you almost believe she can feel your pleasure.

Sevika doesn't let you forget her. She murmurs praise into your ear, teases you for being so wet, asks you how good Vi's mouth feels. You've made it clear how her voice affects you, and she wields dirty words as a weapon any chance she gets.

Good girl.

You look so pretty like this.

How's it feel, honey?

You kiss her just to shut her up. The burn in your belly turns to a blaze embarrassingly fast, and when Vi slides a long finger into your cunt, stars burst behind your closed eyelids. There's no holding back your orgasm when her tongue circles over your clit, slick and hot and—

You turn away from Sevika's mouth and fist Vi's hair in both hands, the muscles in your thighs twitching. "Fuck, please."

"Come on, honey." A pair of plush lips trail down the line of your neck, nipping at your drum-beat pulse. "Let her make you feel good."

That's all it takes. Permission. Weeks without so much as a finger on your clit leads you to a breath-stealing release, and your hearing blots out as you grind against Vi's face. So selfish, needing more, craving the impossible: inevitability.

When the pleasure breaks, you sink into the mattress with a heaving sigh. Each lobe of your brain makes a slow return to normal, and when you blink your eyes open, Vi's face sharpens into view.

Wide-eyed and nervous, she smooths a hand up and down your thigh. "Was that okay?"

All you can do is giggle and nod your head. Too fucked-out to form words.

To your left, Sevika wraps a thick arm around your ribs and pulls you to her. She knows you too well. A long cuddle is neccessity after an orgasm, and she's warm and soft and her chest makes a great pillow. And if you fall asleep for a few minutes, you're none the wiser.

You open your eyes again to Vi gently cleaning you with a washcloth. Sevika sits beside her, nursing a glass of water.

"Hey, Vi." They both look down at you. "Want me to return the favor?"

She shakes her head, slick lips stretching into a dopey grin. "No. I got what I needed."

When Vi moves to lay back down, Sevika catches her by the shoulder. "Wash your face."

"Why don't you clean me up?"

You watch the exchange half-lucid and half-listening, until their voices filter through a lens of fading lucidity. What they both fail to realize is how alike they are, and suddenly everything makes sense.

That's why you care so much.

#arcane x reader #arcane x you #sevika x reader #sevika smut #vi x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi smut #sevika x reader x vi #x reader #my fics #fic: neon carnivores #ns/ft

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lecl1ercswif7ie · 1 day ago

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I Care Buck

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader ! The New Avengers x Reader

Summary: After your first mission you tell Bucky to blowout his hair with your Dyson - The rest of The Avengers are shocked he doesn't oppose.

Author's Note: This is my first fic, i'm sorry if it's a bit weird, english is not my first languange and i'm kind of nervous of writing here 🙈 Enjoy the fic!!

Mission complete.

If you could call “barely surviving a shootout, a crumbling building, and Walker setting off the wrong grenade” a mission success. Still, somehow, no one was dead. That was a win for the New Avengers.

Back at HQ, the vibe was what you’d expect from a barely-functional team of chaos gremlins.

Ava and John were already at it again, arguing over tactical choices like they hadn’t just spent the last six hours screaming into comms.

“I’m telling you,” John said, arms waving, “you rushed the flank too early!”

Ava raised her eyebrows and bit out, “I rushed the flank because you set off the charge early, you toddler in a bulletproof vest!”

“Idiots,” Yelena muttered, flopping on the worn-out couch and covering her eyes with her arm, “please shut up. Some of us are trying to disassociate in peace.”

Bob sat nearby, legs crossed, calmly reading a thick novel. He was somehow the calmest man in the building — maybe in the world. “Let them bicker,” he murmured, not looking up. “It’s almost rhythmic now. Like jazz.”

You snorted from your corner. Bucky was standing silently nearby, arms crossed, leaning against the far wall like he didn’t want to admit he was tired. His dark hair was tousled, sticking out from where it had been flattened by his mask and ruffled by wind and debris. He looked… adorable.

But he also looked like he’d walked through a wind tunnel.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling and walked over, Dyson Supersonic in hand.

“Okay, soldier,” you said, pointing to the stool near the table. “Sit.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Your hair,” you said. “It looks like a bird tried to nest in it. I’m fixing it.”

“You’re gonna use… that thing?” he said warily, eyeing the Dyson like it might explode.

You grinned. “Relax. You’ve fought alien warlords. You can survive a blow dryer.”

A snort escaped him. And then — miraculously — he sat. You plugged the Dyson in, brushed your fingers through his damp hair, and got to work.

—

About five minutes in, Bob looked up from his book and said, “He’s letting her do his hair. It’s happening.”

Yelena didn’t even open her eyes. “What’s happening?”

“The slow-burn,” Bob replied, turning the page. “They’re finally getting there.”

Alexei popped his head in from the kitchen. “What are we betting? I say they kiss before next mission.”

“No way,” Ava said, arms crossed. “Barnes is emotionally repressed and Y/N’s too polite.”

John laughed. “$10 says it happens by the end of the week.”

“$20,” Bob added, “if they don’t even notice they’re basically dating already.”

You ignored them all. Mostly. Your fingers were threading through Bucky’s hair, drying and smoothing it as you guided the Dyson gently. He looked… relaxed. Kind of. Except when his metal hand kept twitching every time you got a little too close to his ear.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

He grunted, “Yeah. Just… not used to people touching me like this.”

“Like how?”

“Like they care.”

You looked at him, your hand still in his hair. “I care, Buck.”

His eyes met yours then — and you swore your heart skipped.

From the couch, Yelena groaned loudly. “Oh my god, would you two just kiss already?!”

You flushed. Bucky cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “I feel like a stray puppy right now.”

“Yeah, well,” you smirked, “you’re a cute one.”

—

Later that night, the HQ was quieter. Ava and John had gone off somewhere to probably yell at each other in private. Yelena was asleep on the couch, Bob was still reading, and Alexei was snoring in the recliner.

You were in the bathroom with Bucky, showing him how to use the Dyson properly. He watched you with that same intense stare he always had — like he was memorizing everything.

“Okay, see the cool shot button?” you explained. “Locks the style in place.”

He pressed it. A little too hard. The blast of cold air surprised him and he jumped slightly.

You giggled. “Scary, huh?”

“Not scared,” he grumbled. “Just… surprised.”

“Mmhm.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then: “Thanks for doing this.”

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Anytime.”

His hand caught yours as you went to pull away — metal fingers warm from the dryer, his grip gentle but steady.

“You know,” he said, eyes locked on yours, “I don’t let just anyone near my hair.”

Your breath hitched. “Good thing I’m not just anyone, then.”

There was a beat.

You both leaned in slightly—

And from the hallway: “If you’re not kissing, then at least make popcorn!” Alexei yelled. “Some of us are invested in the subplot!”

You and Bucky broke apart, laughing quietly.

“Stray puppy, huh?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his lips.

“Only if you’re the one taking me home.”

kinda nervous to post this haha, i tried my best okay? but i think i made justice to the whole new team with unstable people trying to live togethere

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thegoldencontracts · 3 days ago

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Aishiteru—I Love You

—♡ Whispered confessions of love in a language you really should have realized the both of you could understand.

—Characters: Leona, Ruggie

—Warnings: Reader is a bit dense, in case that's not your thing

—Notes: So, uh, I really did mean it when I said I'm back on my bullshit ww (in the voice of someone who surprised even herself); Anyways TIL male lions roar before mating ahahah guess which section that's gonna come up in (difficulty impossible)

Leona Kingscholar

It was very, very stupid to love someone who would so obviously never love you back. A prince of majesty untold with the bright, sharp green eyes of a predator and beauty that watched both his brains and brawn.

But you loved him. Maybe not. Maybe it was just infatuation, a mix of chemicals influenced by hormones bound not to last, but you didn't care.

And he... he tolerated you. The lion was a difficult one to get a read on, apathy masking all the depths of his emotion.

He thought you were scrawny, you knew that much, for he always shoved a packet of snacks into your hands when you spoke, claiming you "needed to get some meat on your bones".

He thought you were troublesome, as he said repeatedly when he helped you with those stupidly difficult homework assignments. There was a magic he seemed to work into his every word, one that made seemingly mind-numbingly complex concepts become clear as day.

And his henchman thought you were stupid.

"Seriously, Kantokusei-kun, you're denser than a pile of rocks..." The hyena beastman had muttered as you accompanied him to Leona's resting spot. "I'll leave you two to do your thing."

Leona was there, tail flicking lazily and hair perfectly disheveled.

"Herbivore," he said, adjusting his mane. He wasn't asleep for once. In fact, he had no hesitation as he stood, pawing at your shoulder. "You're late."

Huh?

"Late?" you asked. "To what?"

"We always meet around now," said Leona simply.

...Did you? Was it, like, something he kept track of?

Leona roared lowly. Was he angry or something?

"Did I do something wrong?" But he just laughed.

"Don't play coy with me, herbivore," he said. "I think both of our intentions are clear by now."

Was he trying to pick a fight with you? Oh, god, you were not surviving this unscathed. But- But you hadn't even said you loved him! You couldn't die without getting this off of your chest?

But you also couldn't put your feelings out there in the open to be so easily rejected...

You had a solution. Just pick a different language, easy as that!

"Ti amo," you said. If you died staring at his beautiful face you would die happy.

But again, Leona just smirked.

"Took you long enough," he said. "I was startin' to think you were just playing around."

Right. He must've thought you were insulting him! After all, he probably wanted to fight, right?

"It's, uh, not an insult," you admitted. Silence.

"...I know."

What.

"What do you mean, 'you know'? It could very well be one!"

Leona, for once, seemed visibly incredulous.

"Do you need to go to the hospital or something? Get your head checked?" He looked over you scrutinizingly. "Your vitals are alright. What's goin' on?"

"Well-"

"Are you tryin' to say you have bad taste or something?" he said, letting out a self-deprecating chuckle. "Guess you'd be right about that."

"I mean, you don't know what I said! How do you know it's not an insult?"

...

Leona's eyes narrowed.

"Do you think," he said. "That a prince like me doesn't know a basic phrase like that?"

Leona was royalty. Right. Royalty. Who usually had to learn countless languages for diplomacy purposes.

Holy shit, you were stupid. And screwed. Very screwed.

"Thickheaded and a coward," he huffed, though his voice softened. "Got no clue why I like you."

Wait. He liked you?

"Why do you look so surprised?" Leona said. "Thought I made it obvious."

He really didn't. Then again, maybe you weren't the best person to decide what was and wasn't obvious, considering you couldn't figure out that a prince would understand a well-known Italian phrase.

"Well, um." you said. "I love you too!"

For a split second, you could've sworn you saw his cheeks flush darker, before he nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "I figured. Now c'mere."

Without letting you protest—not that you would've—he pulled you onto the bed with him.

"After dealin' with your thick head, I definitely deserve a nap."

But even someone like you could notice his tail was gently wagging.

Ruggie Bucchi:

You loved Ruggie Bucchi.

You loved his smile, his greyish-blue eyes, that dirty blonde hair of his that was just so easy to ruffle. You loved the way he would beam whenever he managed to score easy money or food, the way he endured everything life threw at him with a smile.

And there was his odd brand of kindness. He gave you bits of food he scored when he could, always insisting it was just "to make sure you'd owe him later"—but the time where he collected his debt never came. Every chance he could, he brought back food to share with the children back home. Your subconscious took note of each and every instance, whether you wanted it to or not. And each time, it seemed as if this bottomless pit of romantic pining somehow managed to get even deeper. Perhaps that was an oxymoron. Oh, well.

You doubted he loved you back, though. His gifts were friendly, and as was his smile. Nothing more. Those flushed glances you noticed were mere figments of the imagination. Ruggie Bucchi was a pragmatic individual who most certainly did not care for your affections.

So you kept them hidden. You tried, really, you tried. But the thing about romantic feelings was that they were impossible to keep suppressed.

The scene was a stereotypical sort; the two of you beneath a tree, splitting a sandwich. A light breeze.

This was where all the confessions happened, you thought. You sternly reminded yourself to act normal.

"Shishishi, this is good! Where'dja get it from?" He asked.

I love you so much, you wanted to reply. But you held your tongue. Act normal, you reminded yourself.

"I-I made it myself," you said. He beamed, little canines and agh hewassocute-

Damnit. You really couldn't take this anymore. But you couldn't bear to say those three words aloud either.

But what if there was a compromise?

Something other than English. A language he couldn't speak.

"Wǒ ài nǐ," you muttered. I love you, in Mandarin hinese. You'd heard it in a song once. Admittedly, it was a bit intense of a phrase, but still. It wasn't like he'd understand, anyways.

Ruggie stiffened, eyes going wide as saucers.

"What did you say, Kantokusei-kun?"

"Wǒ ài nǐ," you repeated, because it you still weren't satisfied with saying it once. "Just something in another language. You wouldn't understand."

You didn't mention Mandarin, in case he tried to translate.

"Uh-huh," said Ruggie, looking pointedly away form you.

Wait. Did he... think you'd insulted him?

"It wasn't anything mean, I-"

"I know."

His voice was still curt and clipped, red creeping up his cheeks.

"So," Ruggie said. "Do you know what that means?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

Ruggie cut you off with a flick of the wrist, before looking down, quiet as a mouse. After a few seconds, he spoke, slowly.

"Kantokusei-kun," he started. "Did you know," he cut himself off with a nervous shishi. "-That I can speak ten languages?"

"You can?" It was odd how Ruggie wasn't immediately taking the chance to brag about it, honestly. Or mention the skill's use in soliciting job opportunities.

"One of them is Mandarin," he said.

Oh.

Welp, you had a nice run. It was time to dig yourself into the nearest hole!

"Welp," Ruggie said, red-faced and apparently having had his fill of earnest conversation for the day. "That was awkward. Seeya! Don't be so tasteless with your jokes next time, okay?"

"It wasn't a-"

"Seeya!"

You sighed. Seriously? He thought you said it as a joke?

Maybe he was just uncomfortable and wanted to play it off. Yeah, probably that.

But the next day, you noticed the sandwich he brought you as 'payback' was shaped like a heart.

#leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x you #gn reader #leona kingscholar x you #ruggie bucchi x you #writing more x reader fic again is reminding me I suck at tags loll

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cable-salamdr · 2 days ago

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i've been summoned to speak by my child....

Three ships: Uhmm I'm gonna say Sallicole (sally and nicole..), wolfcat (jordana and sora) and uhm let's go with jaya (jay n nya)

First ever ship: I wish I could remember-- but if I'd have to narrow it down to some sort of fandom or media it'd probably be She-Ra or Steven Universe

Last song: Don't Know How by Ricky Montgomery

Last movie: Sinners :]

Currently reading: The Binding and Emma (though very badly)

Currently watching: I THINK Dragons Rising counts in this, yeah sure

Currently consuming: Strawberries

Currently craving: also wife

uhmm open tags but i guess @chebyshevptera @jalluzas-ferney @captain-space-kin @2cats1trenchcoat @penofwildfire @legokingfisher and i cant think of anyone else rn sorz

tag 9 people you’d like to get to know better

thank you @defonotacat for tagging me! <3

3 ships: eruri (the most tragic and sexy ship ever), beabato (perfect male wife and girlboss energy) and satorika/labmdabern (killsbians my beloved)

first ever ship: like first ever ever? clara and prince eric, i loved it when i was 3 years old and i still love it now

last song: sleeping beauty op.66 th13 act 1:6 valse

last movie: christmas carol i think

currently reading: before the coffee gets cold by toshikazu kawaguchi

currently watching: nothing, all my shows ended so it's yt time and watching long analysis about stuff i don't really care about

currently consuming: leftover christmas candy

currently craving: to be hugged maybe hah

tagging: @darling-valentine, @satorikas, @minty-muse, @roseofcards90, @svetlushka, @alaiyoooon, @arocinema, @shiomatsuzaka, @not-quitenormal, i hope you don't mind? uwu

#also ofc ur rewatching ova i need to do that too at some point gah..#yeah.......#tag game #tck tag

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fireinmoonshot · 6 hours ago

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plus one | joaquín torres x reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Reader Summary: You help Joaquín get ready for a gala that he and Sam are attending – though because of the 'no plus ones' rule, Joaquín would rather stay with you instead... and he intends to convince you to let him. Warnings: I don't think I use any pronouns or gender specific terms in this (please let me know if I do and I'll fix my warnings) but it is mentioned that reader has hair long enough for Joaquín to tangle his hands in. There are references to nudity. It's also slightly suggestive at times but nothing specific. Word Count: 3.2k A/N: Surprise! It's been a whole month since I last wrote for Joaquín, and then this morning I woke up to those photos of Danny at the Mission premiere and he is so Joaquín in them that I was inspired. I was literally plotting this out at work cause I couldn't stop thinking about how good he looked in that outfit and then I started working on this the second I got home. I'm actually so happy with how it turned out considering I haven't written for Joaquín in a month, but I have missed writing for him so much. I really hope all of you will love this! 💗

“Angel, I really don’t think that Sam would mind that much,” Joaquin calls from the bathroom, fresh out of the shower. He hooks a towel around his waist and moves to stand in the doorway so he can see you, sitting cross legged on the bed, staring down at your phone. “I seriously think he’d be cool with going alone.”

You look up from your phone, eyes falling on your half-naked boyfriend, and forget how to speak for a moment. His hair is still wet and so is his chest – he’d clearly forgotten to dry himself off properly, wanting to talk to you so badly and attempt to convince you to let him stay home again.

Ever since he’d found out that there were no plus ones allowed at the gala he and Sam had been invited to, he had decided that he didn’t want to go. Sam was going to be there too, so it wasn’t like he was going alone, but for some reason, the simple fact that you couldn’t go made it so that he didn’t want to go either.

“Are you listening to me, angel?”

You blink, tearing your eyes away from his chest where you’d apparently been staring, and nod. “I am, but you’re still going to the gala, Joaquin. You made a promise to Sam.”

Joaquin pouts a little and walks across the room towards you. You try not to focus on the fact that the towel around his waist is tied incredibly low and instead, look at the wet footprints he’s leaving as he walks.

“Baby, you’re gonna get the carpet wet!” You scold him, standing up from the bed just as he reaches you. You place your hands on his chest and start to push him backwards towards the bathroom. “Dry yourself off before you come out here. You know better.”

Joaquin’s pout turns into a grin as he’s pushed backwards by you. He finds it adorable when you get so frustrated over the small things like that, and the fact that your hands are on his bare chest is just a bonus. “Well, stay with me in the bathroom while I dry off, then, cause I don’t wanna have to yell at you just to talk to you,” he says, allowing himself to be pushed back to the bathroom.

“Fine,” you sigh, moving to take a seat on the toilet lid.

You try your best not to stare as Joaquin undoes the towel around his waist and gets to work drying himself off. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before – the man does have a habit of wearing nothing or very little around the house – but it still has the same effect on you every time. You make an effort to look at his face instead.

“I can just text Sam and tell him I’m sick or something,” Joaquin suggests, trying to get back to the topic of the gala. “He wouldn’t know if I’m lying or not.”

You groan and lean back against the cistern. “Baby, you are not lying to Sam about being sick. It’s just a few hours. You’ll probably really enjoy yourself when you’re there. It’ll go so fast and then you’ll be home.”

Joaquin picks up his boxers and pulls them on, frowning to himself as he does. He’d really thought that maybe, you watching him dry off after his shower might give you a reason to finally relent and let him stay home… he’d clearly underestimated your ability to stay true to your word. “You won’t be there, though. It’s not going to be as fun if you’re not there with me.”

“So you never had fun before you met me?”

He turns to look at you, a cheeky smile on his face. “Never.”

You roll your eyes and pick up his dress pants, sitting beside you on the vanity, and throw them at him. “Just get dressed, silly.”

“I’m just saying,” Joaquin says, catching the pants and pulling them on. “I’d have so much more fun if I stayed home with you. I’m sure I could could come up with something we could do. There are so many options.”

He does the button on the pants up and looks at you, eyebrows raised. You can tell by the look on his face exactly what he’s thinking and shake your head, trying not to laugh.

“C’mon, angel. What do you say?” He hums, taking a few steps closer to you and reaching down to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. This is definitely going to work. He knows that you’ve always been susceptible to his touch.

Joaquin almost smiles as you stand up and place your hands on his chest. He places his own hands on your waist and tugs you a little closer to him.

“Baby,” you start, and Joaquin nods at you, his eyes wide and full of hope. “I love you, but I swear if you don’t pick up that dress shirt right now, put it on and finish getting ready, I’m never touching you again. That means no hugs, no kisses, no–”

Joaquin groans and steps back away from you. “You’re killing me here, angel.”

“You’ll live,” you laugh, sitting back down on the toilet lid.

He picks up the dress shirt from the vanity and pulls it on, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. The pout on his lips is so cute that you almost stand right back up and kiss him, but you know that if you do, there’s no way Joaquin is leaving the house.

“I might not,” Joaquin huffs, starting to do the buttons up on his shirt. “It’ll be hours without you. I’ll be all alone in a giant room full of strangers.”

You watch as he does the buttons up all the way to the top and can’t help yourself from standing up and taking a few steps towards him. The pout on his mouth stays in place.

“You’re the most social person I know, Joaquin. Since when do you fear a room full of strangers?” You ask, reaching up to the top button of his shirt. “Anyway, I’ll be eagerly waiting for you to come home if that makes you feel any better.”

Joaquin’s hands find your waist again as you unbutton the top button of the shirt. His breath hitches. Has he finally won you over just by being fully dressed and pouty? His grip tightens on your waist as you unbutton the next button. Then, you drop your hands.

“Angel.”

“There, all done,” you smile, leaning up to peck his lips. “Now, come on. I’ll dry your hair and style it for you and then you’ll be all ready to go. Sam will be here soon anyway.”

You move to step away from him and walk out of the room but Joaquin is quick to pull you back to him. Before you have a chance to object, his lips are on yours. You moan a little at the contact which only spurs Joaquin on more. His hands slip underneath the fabric of your pyjama shirt as he manoeuvres you up and onto the vanity behind you. He uses one hand to push your legs apart so he can stand between them. The other hand moves to tangle in your hair.

It takes every ounce of control not to start unbuttoning the rest of Joaquin’s shirt as he kisses you. You can’t even fist the fabric in your hands, not wanting to crease it when he’s about to leave for a fancy gala. His hair, though, is open territory. Despite the fact that it’s still damp, one of your hands weaves its way into it and you can’t help but tug a little. The noise he makes into your mouth is one you wish you could hear over and over again.

Reluctantly, Joaquin has to pull away to breathe soon. His forehead falls against yours, his breathing heavy. One of his hands rests on your thigh, the other one that had been in your hair now gently holding the back of your neck.

“You ready for me to dry your hair now?” You ask, voice a little teasing.

Joaquin rolls his eyes and stands up straight. “You can’t seriously expect me to still go to the gala after that, can you?”

Smiling, you put your hands on his chest and push him back a little, just enough for you to stand up off of the vanity. His hands stay firmly on you, the one that had been on your thigh now resting on your hip instead.

“You say that as if I’m the one who initiated that, baby.”

He can’t help but laugh a little at that. You were right – he had been the one to initiate the kiss. He just hadn’t expected you to get quite as into it as you had. “Okay, fair call.”

You reach down to take one of his hands. “C’mon, baby.”

Joaquin allows himself to be dragged out of the bathroom by you and smiles a little at the fact that only minutes ago, you’d been pushing him back into the bathroom and now you’re dragging him out of it. He allows you to dry his hair, enjoying the feeling of your fingers running through it and the warm air from the hairdryer. He especially enjoys the fact that you lean down once it’s all dry and kiss him just behind his ear. He almost turns around and tugs you down onto his lap then and there. He’s surprised he manages to stop himself.

It’s not too long later that you’re standing beside him just inside the front door of your house. There’s a limo outside waiting to pick up Joaquin to take him to the gala. Sam’s already waiting inside, probably very impatiently.

“You sure it’s too late to back out?” Joaquin asks, his arms wrapped around you, hands resting on the small of your back. “I could still pull the ‘hey, I’m feeling sick all of a sudden’ card.”

“No, Joaquin,” you shake your head. “You’re going.”

He groans and throws his head back. “Ugh, fine.”

You take advantage of the situation to stand up on your tip-toes and press a kiss to his neck, right above his Adam’s apple. You can feel him tense up at the sudden contact and feel satisfied that you’ve succeeded in your intentions as you see the look in his eyes.

“What was that for?”

“I’m just giving you another memory to think of when you’re out tonight,” you shrug your shoulders. “You look so handsome that I couldn’t help myself. You should wear shirts like this more often.”

Joaquin chuckles. “Thank you, angel. I think I need another memory though.”

He leans in and kisses you again. It’s only a quick kiss, even though he’d like nothing more than to make it more than that, but it’s good enough for him.

As soon as you break away, there’s the sound of the car horn honking outside – Sam’s way of telling Joaquin to hurry the hell up.

“Now, you really have to go,” you laugh, pulling yourself out of his arms to open up the front door. You shiver a little at the cool evening air and it makes Joaquin want to wrap you up in his arms all over again. “Baby, come on.” You reach out and grab his hand, pulling him forward until he’s finally out on the doorstep.

Joaquin smiles at you, just enjoying the feeling of holding your hand.

“Okay, you go out and have a good night, okay? Text me when you’re on your way home. I’ll try and stay awake for you as long as I can,” you give his hand a squeeze and then let go.

“I won’t be late, I promise. I don’t wanna keep you up,” he says. Joaquin isn’t going that easily, though. He steps forward and gives you another quick kiss. “I love you, angel.” The words are murmured against your lips. “I want more kisses when I’m home, okay?”

Laughing, you gently push him away from you. “Hurry up, you’re keeping Sam waiting!”

“Only when you say you love me too!”

“I love you too. Now go!”

Joaquin grins and finally turns around, starting to walk down the path towards the car. He’s about half way there when he turns on his heel and starts running back to you. You watch him, amused, as he makes his way back towards the house. Unsurprisingly, he meets you with another kiss – this one a little longer and a little rougher than last time.

Instead of being interrupted by a car horn honking this time, it’s the sound of Sam’s voice that makes Joaquin pull away from you, his hand still resting on your back.

“I swear if you don’t get into this car right now, Joaquin, I’m replacing you as Falcon!”

Joaquin’s eyes widen almost comically, but even though a part of him really believes that Sam would do it, it doesn’t stop him from leaning in to peck your lips again before he turns back around and starts running towards the limo.

“I love you, angel!” He yells as he’s running.

“Love you too,” you call back through your laughter.

You watch as he gets into the limo and then notice the window rolling down. He waves to you until the house is no longer visible and then finally looks at Sam for the first time since he’d gotten in.

“Next time, we’re negotiating for plus ones.”

~~~

It’s late by the time Joaquin comes home – much later than you’d anticipated. You’d attempted to stay up as long as you could, but when you hear the key in the front door, you’re half asleep in your bed, the room only lit by a lamp on your bedside table.

“Angel, are you sleeping?” Joaquin’s voice wakes you up a little.

Stifling a yawn, you push yourself into a seated position as the door to your bedroom opens and Joaquin walks inside, a smile on his face the second he sees you. His hair is a little messy, likely from a night of dancing or other tomfoolery, and his shirt is creased like you’d expected it to be when he came home.

“Hey, baby. What time is it?” You ask, rubbing your eyes a little. You’re pretty sure you’d fallen asleep for at least a little bit there, but you have no idea when or for how long. “Did you have a good night?”

Joaquin crosses over towards the bed and is about to sit down on it when you stop him.

“No outside clothes on the bed.”

He chuckles and starts to undo his belt. “You just trying to get me naked, angel?”

“If I wasn’t about to pass out, I’d say yes.”

He removes his dress shirt and pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor and leaving him in only his boxers before he climbs up onto the bed beside you, his phone in one of his hands. He slides underneath the covers and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him so he can lean in and press a kiss to your cheek.

“It’s like… one a.m., I think,” Joaquin starts, answering your earlier question. “And I had the best night. You were right, angel. I really enjoyed myself once I was actually there.” He pauses for a second, then his eyes light up as he remembers something. “Oh, they had a whole room full of ice sculptures! Have you seen them before? It was so cold in there, like a giant walk-in freezer. They even had a sculpture of me! Wait, I took a picture…”

You smile, leaning into his side as he unlocks his phone and opens up the camera roll. He swipes past about ten selfies of himself before he gets to the ones he wants to show you – the ice sculptures. You’re definitely gonna be asking for copies of the selfies tomorrow.

“I took photos of everything so I could show you,” he explains, stopping on one ice sculpture that is unmistakably Falcon. “How cool is that! I’m an ice sculpture. I mean, not anymore. I’m probably just a puddle of water now but still.”

It’s sweet, the way he’s so excited about how much he’d enjoyed his evening. Even though it’s one in the morning and you wish you were fast asleep, you’re glad to be experiencing the wonder in his eyes and the joy in his voice. How he can be so energetic so late at night though, you don’t understand.

“That’s super cool, baby,” you hum, no longer looking at the photo but up at him.

Joaquin locks his phone and sits it on his bedside table. “Honestly, I think it might’ve been one of the best nights of my life,” he admits.

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh, that’s funny coming from the man who didn’t even want to go in the first place,” you chuckle, amused. You’re a little more awake now, simply from seeing how happy he is. “So, you don’t need those kisses you asked for anymore, then? I can just go back to sleep then.”

He looks down at you. “Okay, so I didn’t say that.”

One of his hands moves to cup your jaw, his thumb gently swiping over your cheek, as he leans in to kiss you again. Despite the fact that he had had a really great night at the gala, it would’ve been made a million times better with you there. And after the kisses you’d shared while he was getting ready, he’s been waiting for this one all night.

The kiss is different to all the ones you’d had before. It’s slow, soft and gentle. It doesn’t last very long, though. Joaquin can tell how tired you are and the last thing he wants is to keep you up any later, especially when he’d been out later than he’d intended on.

“That was nice,” you mutter after he pulls away from the kiss.

“It was,” he agrees, then tilts his head downwards to briefly capture your lips in his again. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, unable to help himself. “But you should get some sleep now, angel. It’s late and you were falling asleep when I came in, I could tell.”

You stifle another yawn and shake your head. “No, I wanna stay up with you longer. I missed you tonight.”

Joaquin’s heart clenches in his chest. You’d been so adamant for him to go, but all this time you’d been at home missing him. You’d even tried staying awake until he’d come home and had barely achieved it.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, angel,” he says, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “I missed you tonight, too. Every second that I was at that gala I wished you were with me.”

You smile sleepily as you shuffle down so you can lay down in the bed. Joaquin moves to lay beside you, putting his head on his own pillow, the hand that had been on your face moving to rest on your hip.

“You looked really handsome tonight, baby,” you murmur.

“Thank you, angel,” Joaquin replies softly.

“Next time,” you yawn, unable to stop yourself this time, and shuffle closer to him, burying your head in his chest. “You should negotiate for a plus one.”

Joaquin can’t help but chuckle as he wraps his arm around you. “One step ahead of you, angel.”

~~~

Joaquín Torres Tag List (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@sidkneeeee @dead-inside-but-happy @lay-lay-5 @marchingicenotes7 @phucboy @davinashifts333 @lomlbuckybarnes @laurenjbb @chansburgah @blackwidownat2814 @mischiefmanaged71 @madzlovez @marvelwitchergilmore @brittnicki @rheas-ripley @bcystar @victorsbathroomstall @giona45-5 @voodoo-tofu @happypopcornprincess @antixsocialx2 @innazra @lllucere @moonxnite @peacefangirl @ahoodgirl @ssinphetel @hiireadstuff @florkt @daisydadestroya @nanni197 @multiversefanfics

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #captain america brave new world #captain america #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #danny ramirez #danny ramirez x reader

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manari-archives · 3 days ago

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things I wish you said | LN4

When I saw you cry, I didn't handle it well Without you here I don't know what to do with myself I hope you know it scared me to death The night that your sister said that you got in an accident

pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

warnings: alludes to a sexual relationship, a crash, hospitals

word count: 1k

note: IM BACK AFTER ALMOST 2 YEARS, this is probably the last part of the emails I can't sent series I'm gonna write, sorry </3. again this isn't based on the entire song, just a couple of lines. also english isn't my first language and this hasnt been proofread yet, so any corrections feel free to let me know and any feedback is welcome :)

masterlist

Lando Norris sat alone in his car, staring blankly at the empty street ahead. The hum of the engine was barely audible over the ache in his chest. His fingers clenched the steering wheel as memories of Y/N flooded his mind.

They’d been here once right here in this exact car. That night was supposed to be the beginning of something more, but instead, it became the moment everything slipped away.

“Lando,” Y/N had whispered back then, her voice unsure, “is there something you want to say?”

He hadn’t responded. The words had burned his tongue, begging to be released, but his fear had silenced him. Instead, he’d reached out and placed a trembling hand on her leg, hoping she'd somehow understand.

But she didn’t.

And how could she?

The silence between them had stretched on, heavy and painful, until she pulled her coat tighter around herself and looked away.

“You know I can’t read your mind, right?” she finally said, her voice laced with sadness.

But still, he said nothing.

Now alone in the quiet of his car, Lando winced at the memory.

“I was such a coward” he muttered to himself, slamming the steering wheel. “You were right there, and I let you go.”

Every corner he turned, every flickering neon sign, brought her face back to him. The way her eyes lit up when he joked, the way she got his humor when others thought he was just cold or sarcastic.

No one understood him like she did.

Back then, when she had broken down in front of him crying, vulnerable, real, he hadn’t known what to do.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” she sobbed, wiping her face as she sat curled on his couch.

“You’re not broken,” he’d whispered, heart pounding in his chest, “you’re just... feeling things I don’t know how to fix.”

Instead of holding her, he had shut down. Instead of comforting her, he froze.

And that was the beginning of the end.

The shrill ring of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Hello?” he answered, voice rough.

“Lando, it’s me,” came the shaky voice of Y/N’s sister. “She’s been in an accident. A car hit her. It’s... bad.”

Everything else became a blur.

At the hospital, Lando paced the hallway, hands trembling.

“What happened?” he asked, almost breathless.

“It was some drunk driver,” her sister replied through tears. He didn’t wait, he pushed through the doors and into the room.

Seeing her pale, bandaged, broken tore the air from his lungs. “Oh God, Y/N...” he whispered, approaching her bed. He reached out and held her hand, cold and unmoving in his.

“Please,” he whispered, voice cracking, “you have to wake up. I need to say what I never said.”

When she finally opened her eyes, days later, he was still there.

“Lando?” she rasped.

“I’m here,” he choked out.

She blinked slowly, her voice weak. “Why?”

“Because I should’ve never left you in the first place.” He leaned forward, tightening his grip on her hand. “I was afraid, Y/N. Of what you made me feel. So I hid. I said nothing when I should have said everything.”

She looked away.

“I remember that night in your car,” she murmured. “You didn’t say a word.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But I wanted to. I wanted to tell you I loved you. That I was falling for you and it terrified me.”

“And when I cried... you disappeared.”

“I didn’t know how to comfort you. I was so afraid of doing it wrong that I did nothing. But not anymore. I’m done running from my feelings.”

She closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“I don’t know if I can just forget all of that.”

“You don’t have to,” he said quickly. “I don’t expect that. But I’m here now. And I’ll prove it to you, every day, for as long as it takes.”

Weeks later, the air between them was lighter, but still cautious.

“You always leave the milk out,” she teased one morning as he handed her tea.

Lando grinned. “Old habits. I’m a changed man, but not that changed.”

“You’re working on it.”

“I am.” He grew serious for a moment. “And I want to be better. For you.”

She looked up at him, eyes soft.

“You’re getting there.”

Months passed, and slowly, carefully, they built something new.

“I missed this,” she said one night as they sat on the same couch she’d once cried on.

“Me too,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. “But I’m not going to miss any more chances.”

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris one shot #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #Spotify

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zosanniz · 2 days ago

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Hiiiii, omg it soooo nice to see new people writing for One Piece, specially that write for that many characters, because I was gonna ask just for some strawhats, but then I saw you write for so many other of my faves that I couldn't stop thinking (sorry I'm rambling). I would reaaaally like some Beckman, Mihawk, Katakuri, Kinemon and Rayleigh (I would prefer if it wasn't poly for Kin and Rayleigh, not that I dislike Tsurujo or Shakky they r great, super badass, I'm just being extremely gay right now) with a male or gn reader, that keeps calling them not just handsome and hot but also cute and pretty and beautiful (I did that with my boyfriend and its really cute when more manly people get soft compliments, that just don't expect them). If you want of course, but thank you either way.

OLDER MEN POST (you picked out some yummy men especially the last two)

Beckman shakes his head at you everytime you do it. Beckman isn’t really used to “softer” compliments as he’s typically been in superficial relationships that are purely sexual in nature so when complimenting him like this he doesn’t mind it, just isn’t used to it and is probably kinda flustered and flattered by it (secretly, you probably have no idea tbh since he hides it well). Secretly likes it but probably won’t admit it. He usually will give an amused smile and then tease you with something you knows may fluster you instead, (like a compliment or a nickname)

Mihawks expression will not change but his face almost looks… brighter somehow.. when you say such things about him. He’ll usually reply with a compliment of his own with a straight face. Though he treats your compliments as if you’re stating a fact, since that’s what he does. So he’s just like, confused when you call him cute. “I certainly hope I’m not.” Is typically his response.

Katakuri is far more… flustered by this. I’m gonna be honest I can see him being like a nearly 50 year old (yes he’s that old) virgin. (Oh my god why is he 48). Katakuri typically gets red in the face by being called cute but will typically say “im not cute..” while the tips of his ears burn crimson. He’s just not used to compliments unless it’s related to his strength and how cool he is. And yeah perhaps girls have come onto him and have called him attractive but never something like this.. like just seeing him as a person capable of being soft, cute. Katakuri sometimes gives you a shy “thank you” cause his brain can’t form any other response.

Kinemon is so flustered oh my goshhhh what a nerd. Anytime you give him any kind of compliment, whether it’s calling him sexy or adorable, his entire face goes beet red and smoke steams out of his ears. He’ll probably stutter something about how you need to stop embarrassing him so much with your lovely words, he truly isn’t worthy!

Rayleigh (happy late bday btw) loves it. Though certainly not something he’s ever received before (besides maybe Shakky… or Roger as a joke and perhaps because Roger is just a flirt like that) he welcomes it. Will return the compliments in full but Rayleigh has a habit of making it dirty really fast (low key a perv sorry) but he’s always romantic about it. Truly a man that can make you swoon. He’s a man that is praised by pirates, he’s a man that even in his “retirement” is feared. So like, just kinda nice you just give him soft compliments like that.

#Rayleigh x reader #silvers Rayleigh x reader #op x y/n #op x reader #op x you #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #one piece x you #katakuri x reader #charlotte katakuri x reader #kinemon x reader #beckman x reader #mihawk x reader

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4sh-n4 · 2 days ago

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Based on ^^^ that post (kind of)

Dick and Bernard don't get along. Well, they don't hate each other but they're not best friends. They're barely friends at all. Vaguely connected acquaintances through their mutual love for Tim at most. So why is it that Dick exits his bedroom one morning (in his personal apartment!! In Bludhaven!!!) to find out that his little brother's boyfriend has set up camp in his kitchen and seems to be attempting to conduct a coup over the pathetic electrical appliances in his kitchen that he had refused to replace when he first moved in as rebellion against Bruce's need to control every aspect of his life and then had just...not gotten around to doing it because he barely ever had the energy or time to cook for himself anyways.

Dick must've made some noise of surprise because Bernard turns around from where he's currently trying to curl the wire of the toaster into different angles and shapes in hopes that it'll turn on. Bernard nods at him before turning back to his task like this is a regular situation (which it decidedly is not!! Dick thinks with a tinge of hysteria).

"What are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Making breakfast? Or well, lunch technically but they're breakfast foods and also the first meal of the day for both of us. So, brunch? I was gonna make eggs and toast but I don't think I'm going to be able to wrangle your toaster under submission anytime soon so how do you feel about pancakes?" Bernard doesn't even have the decency to turn around as he answers. Or wait for a response clearly, since he's already going through Dick's cupboards for ingredients, abandoning the failed toaster to the side.

"Uh, the flour is behind that box. Yeah, right there. How did you get in here? How did you even know where I live? And again, why are you in my house??" Dick would maybe put up more of a protest usually, but he's had a really bad time for the last couple of...forevers really, so he's decided that his new policy (decided two seconds ago) is to never refuse free pancakes from anyone. And he's not an idiot, he's stolen Tim's leftovers enough times to know that these pancakes are about to be quite possibly the best things to greet his tongue in the last week. So instead of knocking out the blonde in front of him and dumping him on Tim's doorstep, he's deciding to be the bigger person. The more mature person. Who really wants some pancakes.

"Did you know the Riddler really likes pancakes? I found out that one time he'd decided to set up his base of operations in the back of that Waffle House on main street that closed down 2 months after it opened. Probably due to the aforementioned criminal activities actually. I was looking for Condiment King's cousin, you know the one that's been stealing all the dessert sauces in Gotham to feed them to Killer Croc as some sort of weird courting ritual even though everyone knows that Killer Croc only has eyes for Ratman since they cohabitate in the Gotham sewers? I made a video on it and everything for my youtube, complete with powerpoints. That's why there's a city-wide shortage of the good strawberry sauce and I have to travel all the way to Metropolis to get some even though theirs does not taste the same, no matter what Tim says. Don't listen to Tim, he doesn't know what he's talking about when it comes to dessert sauces. Other than marmalade, he's got a pretty good tongue for that. He's got a good tongue for other things too, but don't tell him I said that, I've been trying to convince him that he needs to practice with it more and I think it's finally starting to work. Or Tim is just humouring my request to kiss him more, I'm not actually sure yet."

Dick blinks as he tries to process everything that he's just heard. He blinks a few more times, just in case that improves his comprehension and then comes to the conclusion that no, whatever Bernard is talking about makes no more sense after sitting with it for a few more seconds and also that he's currently sharing a kitchen with a madman. His brother is /dating/ a madman, oh god.

Bernard has somehow managed to find everything he needs in Dick's kitchen (how? even Dick doesn't know where he'd put the chocolate chips, he'd lost them after hiding them from Damian) . He's also too chipper for...12:30 in the afternoon. Dick needs him to take a step back and give him a few more hours to wake up on his day off, please and thank you.

Dick thinks about addressing Bernard's inane chatter but decides he has bigger things to worry about and instead says, "That answered exactly none of my questions."

He knows for a fact that he checked his locks before going to bed, and his door has Wayne manufactured (and Batman enhanced) protection that should not be able to be broken by a civilian. So if he's got a security issue, he'd like to know about it before the Joker or someone decides that Dick Grayson would make the perfect target for their next scheme.

Bernard sighs and turns to give him a put out look like he's not the one currently standing in the kitchen of someone he barely knows and is being highly inconvenienced by Dick's perfectly valid questions about his safety. Dick simply stares back silently. He does seem to realise that Dick isn't willing to just let this go, so faces the stove before actually answering his questions instead of deflecting.

"Well. If you must know, my darling boyfriend is away on urgent 'Wayne Enterprises business' in Jump City," Bernard makes sure to add the quotation marks with his fingers and turns again, this time looking at Dick dryly as if telling him just exactly what he thinks of that lie. Dick jolts in his chair, eyes widening slightly before he gets his facial features under control, feeling slightly more awake all of a sudden. As far as he knows, Bernard should have no knowledge of the family's... extracurricular activities.

Luckily (or unluckily), he isn't given the chance to respond before Bernard continues, "I heard you had the day off from Duke who was complaining about how you haven't been visiting recently and got bored enough alone that I decided to drop in. I figured your windows are probably less impenetrable than your doors to account for late night visits, similar to Tim, except you also live too high up for anyone to get up without help." (At this, Bernard rolls his eyes). "So I waited until your downstairs neighbours- that lovely couple, Belinda and Mark- left the house for date night before picking the lock for their house instead and climbing up the windows for only one floor instead of five."

What the FUCK. Where did Tim find this guy?? Does Bruce know that his son's boyfriend is a maniac? Dick gapes at the man opposite him, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. He runs his hand through his hair a few times. At least that answers the question about whether or not Bernard knows about his night time activities (HOW?).

"Okay. Okay. Wow. How do you know my downstairs neighbours?" That's definitely not the biggest concern right now, but Dick honestly and truly has no idea where to even start with the rest of it so this seems like a good point to address.

"I helped Belinda carry her groceries yesterday because Mark was at the vet with the stray cat that they're thinking of adopting because they've been feeding her for a few months."

#did bernard realise that dick hadnt been visiting gotham due to a depressive episode? yes #was he worried? yes (though he'd never admit it)#after this talk they eat pancakes #and then they watch bad romcoms and make fun of them #tim comes back to gotham freaks out at bernard's disappearance and tracks him down #only to find his asleep on dick's couch #are they friends after this? no (yes but they wont admit it)#dc #bernard dowd #dick grayson #timber #timbern #batfam #sorry guys this got away from me #and then i got tired and didn't finish it #can you tell i cant write dialogue #also that i have too many thoughts and no idea how to write them #hopefully this wasn't TOO out of character #dick my beloved #bernard my beloved #i lvoe them #need bernard to be more unhinged always and need dick to be more long suffering #4sh-n4 #bernard is a waffler (waffle heh)#dick is a hypocrite bc he's just as insane as bernard he just likes to pretend he's normal and well adjusted

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ackerlikesmen · 2 days ago

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No, Rick. This is bad writing.

Alright, I know I've talked about the judo flip already, but seeing how Rick commented on it, I can't not respond because it's laughable at best and stupid and horrible writing at worst.

So, Rick says that Annabeth judo-flipping Percy is a "strategic move" on Annabeth's end. It shows how "strong and quick-witted" and "a wonderful, bold leader" she is.

I... I'm sorry.

WHAT?!

I had to reread and ensure I'm not misinterpreting anything, but nope! I'm not. It's real. Rick seriously said and believes Annabeth was being wise and all that dumb shit.

Rick, are you fucking kidding me?

I said this will be short and I'll try to keep my word.

Mister Riordan, if you seriously think Annabeth judoflipping Percy makes her

strong

quick witted

excellent strategist

bold and good leader

Then, I have news for you. YOU'RE WRONG.

1.) That's NOT what makes you a good leader. Intimidating and beating up your comrades is not good leadership or wise. It's fucking psychotic and creates a stressful, hostile, and horrible work environment. Annabeth would have people on their damn toes and fearful around her, and if there is another ship nearby, they'll most certainly abandon her and join the other team. Hell, you kinda show how stressful she is to be around with PERCY.

It doesn't make her wise because she's putting Percy in an uncomfortable and painful situation, along with showing enemies like Gaea where his curse spot is to better hurt him, but she almost started another war with the Greeks and Romans. Thank the gods Reyna, Jason, and Percy were actually good leaders, and prevented that from happening.

And before I get people saying "he doesn't have the curse spot!"--- Yes, I know he doesn't have it anymore, but SHE DID NOT KNOW THAT AND WAS WILLING TO PUT PERCY AND THEIR MISSION IN JEOPARDY.

It doesn't make her quick-witted or a good strategist because there are other ways--- Hold on. What the fuck was the point of the judo flip? To intimidate the other side? Well, that worked and nearly caused another war—something Percy can not afford. It doesn't make her strong either. It makes her abusive and controlling.

A good leader not only plans for the inevitable but also ensures that this plan is coherent and will provide the best outcome. They wouldn't risk their comrades' safety and would inform their teammates what to do. Last, they wouldn't physically harm their mates because they're angry and can't control their emotions.

Annabeth has much to learn if she believes that makes her a good leader, let alone a good teammate.

Now, if the judoflip was PLANNED, then that would be a different story, because at least Percy is expecting it... But it wasn't, which leads me to number 2

2.) What was the purpose? We never saw Annabeth plot in her head or give us a reason behind her judoflipping him--- actually, we do, and I'll get there. Moving on, this wasn't a plan. Not a coherent one, at least. If this were a plan, how come Percy doesn't know? "Because they want to make it real!" Okay. How come the others don't know? You'd think Jason, Piper, Leo, or someone would comment on Annabeth's plan. Hell, they'll probably comment on how fucking horrible and risky her plan is. Either way, you failed to put that information there, Rick. If this is Annabeth's way of plotting, which I don't think it is, then you've done a terrible job showing that. Because the audience and PERCY believe she's being serious, which she was. That's another thing. If this was a plan and Percy doesn't know the plan, why doesn't Annabeth apologize and tell him this was a skit? Gonna say it again: BECAUSE IT WASN'T.

Last and not least,

3.) Rick, I have a feeling you regret writing that judo flip scene. That's why you're trying to pull an Isayama and rewrite what happened, hoping the fans will be naïve and believe that shit. And I have to say, it's horrible to insult the intelligence of your audience.

Annabeth never thought about Romans vs Greeks, nor did she think about Gaea. Because that's not what you wrote. Annabeth judoflipped Percy because she was ANGRY at him for leaving her. It's in the book that YOU WROTE. It literally said in the scene that she did not care about what else was happening around her. She judoflipped Percy because she's angry at him. Literally, she says, "If you ever leave me again, I swear to the Gods,". IT'S RIGHT THERE. Everyone can go read it. Fuck, YOU should reread it. Nowhere does it say she's plotting or thinking about Gaea and anything else. She only thought about taking Percy and hiding somewhere while also being extremely angry at him for 'leaving her', so she takes her anger out on him. Hell, Percy tells Grover that he's trying to MAKE IT UP to Annabeth for leaving her.

Again, what good leader leaves their comrades in the dark? What good leader HURTS their teammates because they're angry and can't control their emotions?

You're trying to rewrite this shitty scene and make Annabeth and her gross actions look heroic and justifiable. Trying to make percabeth seem good and healthy, and it's pissing me off. Can't you just admit that she fucked up and should not have done that? Instead, you have to lie and act like she's this 'great leader that's so strong and wise' and try to rewrite your mistakes.

I know I'm being a cunt right now, but I can not stand this type of shit. Just admit that Annabeth was wrong and shouldn't have done that. Judoflip will NEVER be good or moral because she didn't do it to be good and 'strategic'. She did it to hurt Percy. That's it.

You can try to rewrite this all you want, but we got the copies, and they show Annabeth is a terrible leader and, most importantly, a terrible, abusive girlfriend to Percy.

Alright, rant over. Goodnight.

#anti percabeth #anti rick riordan #seriously wtf #anti annabeth chase

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kings-highway · 2 days ago

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I apologise if this question has been asked before but- when did you get into writing and do you do it as a job? your writing is truly impeccable and I’d love to begin writing but I’m not very good lol

The true answer to this question is "as long as I can remember." I turned 25 just a few days ago, and would feel comfortable confidently saying I've been writing for 20 years. Not... Seriously of course, but some of my most early memories are of stapling paper together to make little books i wrote. I do remember, though, the actual moment in which I decided I wanted to write novels, and it was directly because my older brother had said he was going to write one. I was probably ten or eleven? Its hard to remember. I often credit him as being the reason I write, because I literally remember sitting down and starting a book that evening. He also taught me the rules for starting new paragraphs which I vehemently hated and swore I wouldnt bother doing ever but then immediately inputted into my work.

Alas, I do not get paid for writing. I am working on self publishing a novel of mine, but truthfully the publishing industry is so fucked up and so... Antithetical to things I (and I would bet on most writers) love about the craft. Did you know, that its industry standard to include 3-5 titles of published novels "similar to yours" in your cover letter to an agent to "prove you know the market/marketability of your book"? And most of the time they request you to only reference books published in the last 5 years. Basically codifying into their process that they're only ever gonna churn out copycats. Let me tell you this right now, i don't consider marketability for one goddamn second when I write. I write because it's who I am, it's like breathing for me, and I don't fucking know "similar recently published titles" because what real writer gives a shit about what anyone else is doing??? I'm writing MY stories, thank you. But evidently we're at that stage of society where publishing is just about money and if there's one thing thats true about me is that I would rather never make a dime off my writing than get sucked into a contract that forces me to churn out a YA series for mass market appeal.

Ahem. Uh. Rant over.

On that topic though I think I would greatly enjoy being an editor or working in the writing industry in other ways but I am probably never going to be a traditionally published author ✌️also I have no idea how to break into that industry and am terrible at networking so. Alas. i must fund myself other ways.

And you didn't ask for this, but you mentioned at the end of your ask that you want to begin writing but that you're not very good, and my true solemn genuine advice to that is to remind you that you have to be that way when you start. Like... Writing is something that you naturally improve over time. By reading and by physically writing, every time you do it, you get a little better. But there's no way to skip to the next level. So... You might not be great at writing. Im not gonna tell people "oh art is subjective im sure your writing is amazing" because the truth is, language is difficult and writing is a skill. And you have to practice it. But the moment you pick up a pen, you begin to improve. Before publishing any fanfiction online, I had completed five novel length stories, and the first one I ever completed sucked fucking ass. (Also I was 14 so... Sorry 14 year old me for saying your work sucks ass but it does) The fifth one was mediocre, not as embarassing. Im even proud of it. But the novel I'm trying to publish? The novel I wrote after committing a million words of fanfiction to the page over 3 years? That shit is good. Its well written. And those 3 years got me there because of constantly writing, because of the practice I put out. You HAVE to write your obligatory words of garbage before you get to write something great. Im so sorry about that. But if you love writing, and if you want to write, and if you have a story to tell, then there's no better time to start honing those skills. Every time you finish a work, the next one will start even better off. And I, personally, am so excited to see where I'll get to be in the next three years, because I'm sure it'll make my current works look mediocre.

I just don't want people to look at my work and think it's unachievable. I have those 2 decades of wanting this really badly. Of wanting to be this. But thats the only thing I have that you might not. Everything else you can learn. My skill is nothing but practice, and if you give yourself the time and space to learn the craft as well, there's absolutely nothing stopping you from being an absolutely phenomenal writer. But you do have to, you know, write.

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classica-meretrix · 17 hours ago

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i love your writing!!!! could i perhaps request a mortal friends to lovers leo valdez x reader au?? like they're both at college, leo takes mec eng(obviously lol) and reader takes psychology and it's just painful fluff with mutual pining losers with smut when they end up sleeping together after a super romcom dramatic like confession from leo?? lol sorry for the big ass text i'm just way into romcoms rn😅 (also subby leo lmao)

thank you so much for the request, love! leo is so fun to write for, and I ended up making this a two parter, so stay tuned for next week!

Are You Mad?

pt1, pt2

pairing: mortal leo valdez x fem!reader genre: fluff content/warnings: couldn't help but add some greek references lol, readers in denial, hoo friend group, dramatic love confession of course summary: you and leo end up as best friends after a chance collision, but soon it looks like it might be more a/n: I'm so excited to write the part 2 for this. should probably be out next thursday!

I tossed my empty cup into a trash can as I passed, trying to shuffle through the stack of papers and folders stacked in my arms with only one hand. At this point I was only half convinced I'd finished that paper, and if I didn't find it before I got Mr. Whitman's class, I was as good as dead.

Just as I thought I saw the header of the essay I had been searching for, I collided with something hard, and all my papers flew out of my arms, littering the sidewalk.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," the guy hurried out, immediately ducking down to collect my mess. All I could see of him from this angle was a mess of black curls, and the back of a beat up Carhartt jacket.

"No, no, that was on me. I wasn't looking where I was going." I grabbed as many of the papers as I could, attempting to put them back in a neat stack. "I was trying to find an essay."

"This one?" he asked, looking up. I was met with warm chocolate brown eyes, leaving me stunned for a moment. He had picked up a thin stack that had been stapled together at the corner, holding it at an awkward angle to read the title. "The Self: Human Nature or All in Our Heads?"

"Yep. That's the one." I had gathered myself enough to answer with a shy smile.

"Psychology?" he continued with a mischievous looking grin, handing over the last few rogue papers.

"Second year."

"Me too!" he said enthusiastically. "I mean—second year, not psych. I'm mechanical engineering."

"That's my roommates major! She loves it, but I've never been able to follow it much."

"It's not too hard once you get the hang of it. I'm Leo, by the way."

"It's nice to meet you! I'd shake your hand, but I'd probably drop all this again."

"We wouldn't want that," he laughed.

Just as I was about to make another comment, I caught a glance of his watch. "Shit. I'm gonna be late. It was lovely to talk to you, hope to see you around," I called over my shoulder as I hurried off to my class.

"That's the second time today!" Percy yelled, hopping up from his seat, the front of his shirt and pants soaked. "Why can't this shit be waterproof or something?"

"Sorry, man," Leo apologized, though his teasing tone and proud smile suggested otherwise.

As soon as Percy was out of the dorm room, hurrying off to change, Jason turned to his friend. "You've got to stop doing that," he laughed. "I think he's almost at the breaking point."

Leo shrugged, turning his attention back to me. I was laid in his bed on my stomach as he sat on the floor, resting his chin on the edge of the mattress.

"What was I saying?" he asked, his nose scrunching adorably.

"Those... Sphere thingies."

"Right!" he said, his eyes lighting up. "Archimedes' spheres. We were talking about them in class today. I mean, he had some crazy ideas, but these things were just wild. They're way too complicated. Those things would never work. They don't even know what half of them are supposed to do."

"He sounds rather ambitious. Like someone else I know," I responded, gently tapping the end of his nose. He scrunched it again at my actions, making me what to repeat my actions a thousand times over.

What the hell are you doing? Snap out of it.

I pulled my hand back to my side as he went on, rambling about the impossibility of the inventions. We were only a few inches away from each other, his chin on the edge of the bed and mine resting on the back of my palm, but neither of us seemed to notice the proximity.

How the hell I ended up in this position, I couldn't really tell you. It was probably Percy's stupid idea to come to this stupid party.

Leo was across the room, talking to some girl, and for some reason I couldn't pinpoint, I was pissed about it. Part of myself was saying he's just talking to some girl, what's the big deal? But another—much louder—part of me wanted to scream at how close they were, talking maybe a few inches apart at most, and neither had looked up for six minutes and fifty-two seconds. Not that I was counting. What has gotten into me?

I eventually tore my eyes away from them, afraid I'd make myself sick if I stared at them any longer. Set on searching out Annabeth, I took off into the crowd, eventually finding her in the kitchen, tucked under Percy's arm.

"I'm gonna head out."

Her expression immediately turned to worry as she saw my own. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" I answered, though my words came out sharp and uncomfortable, clearly not convincing either of us.

"I'll go with you."

"No, really. Percy's way too drunk to be left with the boys." My excuse was true, he was slurring aggressively, telling an overly exaggerated story.

"Jason isn't drinking, he'll be fine."

"Really," I tried again, practically pleading. I was more eager than ever now to get out of there, my skin heating to an unbearable temperature in time I'd be standing there.

She hesitated, studying me. "Fine. But text me as soon as your back in the dorm. Kay?"

"Mhm," I nodded, immediately ducking towards the door. I was eager for the fresh air, but as soon as I pushed my way outside I was pelted with thick, cold rain drops. Great.

I tried to ignore my shivering, tugging off my heels to avoid slipping. I was halfway home when my phone started ringing, playing the custom ringtone Leo had insisted I used for his contact. I hurriedly ignored it, fumbling with my heels and the slippery screen, but just as soon as I had put my phone away, it was blaring again.

"For fuck's sake!" I yelled, scrambling to clear it again.

'Where are you?' his text read. 'Are you okay?' 'Answer me please.'

"Give it up," I muttered angrily, shoving my phone into my bag. I had just made it to my building when an all too familiar voice came from somewhere behind me through the heavy patter of rain.

"Thank God! Are you okay?"

"Would everyone stop asking that?" I snapped, spinning around to face him. Leo was climbing out of his cherry red Cadillac he'd fixed up, hurrying over to me.

"I thought something had happened to you? Why didn't you answer my calls or texts?" His eyes quickly scanned over me, taking in the thin dress sticking to my skin, heels in one hands, and arms wrapped tightly around myself as I shivered violently. "You're shaking. Take my jacket," he started, shrugging off his coat.

I brushed him off, ignoring his attempts. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What? I'm making sure you're okay. You shouldn't be walking home by yourself at two in the morning. Please, take the jacket."

"No."

"Are you mad at me or something?"

"Yes! No... I–I don't know! Can you just leave me alone?" I angrily pleaded. His expression was somewhere between confused and hurt, the arm holding his jacket now hanging by his side. "Shouldn't you be off with some little blonde?"

That comment struck a chord, only deepening his confusion. "No?" he said, almost as more of a question. "Are you mad about me talking to a girl?"

"I don't want to talk about this!" I yelled back, desperately wanting to get out of the heavy rain. I could practically feel the cold in my bones, and my clothes were clinging to me uncomfortably.

"I do," he pouted, looking like a kicked puppy. His curls were matted down on his forehead, his grease-stained t-shirt sticking to his skin, and his jacket hanging limping at his side, not bothering to put it back on.

"What is there to talk about? I'm soaking wet, cold, and tired, I don't want to talk about some skank at a frat party!"

"Are you jealous or something?" He had begun to raise his voice, from a mix of the loud rain and aggravation.

"Maybe I am!" I yelled in response. "Is that what you want to hear?"

"Yes," he answered, not skipping a beat.

I was too stunned to answer him, the anger suddenly leaving me. The image of us yelling at each other in the rain about something so simple suddenly seemed absurd, and I was frantically trying to figure out how we had ended up here. I was just beginning to realize I may feel something different for my best friend, and here he was saying he might feel the same.

He stared at me for what felt like forever, until I managed to croak out a barely audible, "What?"

"I like you. Hell, if we're being honest, I think I'm in love with you."

His big brown eyes watched me with no expectation, just observing. I realized he wasn't waiting for me to say it back, or even acknowledge it, he was just... watching me process.

Before I knew what I was doing I had thrown my heels to the ground, launching myself at him. I pressed my lips against his as I threaded my fingers through his soaked curls. Leo's hands instinctively found my waist, tugging me closer.

His teeth tugged my bottom lip, nipping me before his tongue darted out to lick across the area in a soothing manner. I tugged his hair at the action, silently praising him.

I pulled away breathlessly, trying to get even closer to him. "You're so warm," I muttered against his lips. My shivering had decreased significantly since he'd wrapped his arms around me.

"Let's get you inside." My only option for a response was a mindless nod, before returning to his lips.

#fluff #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #leo valdez fluff #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez #leo valdez x y/n #request #answered asks #ask #answered prompt #answered

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starseneyes · 4 hours ago

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On Fandom and Shipping

Look, I've not said anything on the whole outcome of last night's 9-1-1 partially because I don't really go here, and partially because I know everyone's emotions are all over the place.

But, just a gentle reminder—the actors don't control the narrative. Yes, there are times that actors can influence it or a Showrunner gives them voice.

The actors went out and did a Press Tour and promised nothing. I mean, nothing. Yes, their natural chemistry was on fire. Yes, certain networks chose to edit pre-recorded interviews in a way that got fans excited and hopeful.

And hope is a dangerous thing when it comes to shipping.

But before I get into all that—below the "read more" cut—let me say this:

Please don't go after the actors.

Don't leave them rude comments. Don't threaten them. They are literally employees doing their job and they promised nothing.

Is their natural chemistry undeniable and sizzling? God, yes. Probably part of why they've been separated in a lot of promotion the past year or so. But they likely had little say in their pairing up for this press push and they handled it as best they could, I think.

Yes, the Press was promoting Buddie in a way that I think we all had to wonder—bait or tease? And there was a healthy dose of skepticism from the fandom, but also a lot of hope.

I've been in fandom forever. I'm old. My first ships were Mulder/Scully and Janeway/Chakotay. I know Ship disappointment and hurt.

And, yes, a different scenario in that we're also talking about the possibility of a MLM romantic pairing that is too often underrepresented on television at a time that LGBTQ+ rights are under attack in the United States.

So, it was nice to surrender skepticism to hope when the signs seemed to be pointing toward something concrete based on the promotion and press.

And, honestly, I love this fandom for its many interpretations of "canon" so "concrete" could mean a million things.

Back in my day, a kiss wasn't even enough. Y'all, if you watch Star Trek: The Next Generation, Troi and Riker are madly in love in one episode and the next he's off-ship flirting with some alien like a lonely bachelor whose only companion has been his hand for too long.

But this fandom seems to say, "Feeling realization? Sure!" "One sided pining, fine!" and so many other variations. The season finale was a big ball of nothing in terms of Buddie, which can feel like whiplash after the feast of 8x17.

I get disappointment. But, please, leave Oliver Stark and Ryan Guzman alone.

Yes, somewhere TPTB decided they needed to pair them up for some interviews—the Thirst Tweets, the Spilling the ETea. Their chemistry is electric. Some people just have that. They do. And that fed into the hope.

But, again, they're doing their jobs. Press is part of the job. And neither is in the mood to lose their job right about now.

Hollywood is functioning at a far smaller capacity than it used to. Even before the fires that plagued L.A. this winter, and the excuse of the Strikes that the Studios have used to shrink show-orders and move production overseas for slightly wider profit margins, the industry has been constricting, somewhat.

These actors are happy to have jobs and don't want to lose them, so they do the work. But they both did their best in their answers to manage expectations while on the red carpet—while trying not to give anything away.

The most out-of-pocket bits are just them being them and they didn't coordinate those shoots. Their reps did because some higher up thought it would be a good idea to set it up.

And, y'all, I'm gonna keep that Thirst Tweets video in my rotations for bad days because it just makes me laugh and sometimes I need to laugh at the absurdity of my life.

So, loves, please don't leave death threats and angry messages and all sorts of attacks on the pages of two people doing their jobs who tried to manage expectations while oozing natural chemistry.

Yes, it felt like something shifted with the promotion and open discussion of Buddie. Maybe they're setting the groundwork for next Season. I have utterly no idea.

And please don't misconstrue this as me telling anyone how to feel!

You can feel hurt. You can feel frustrated. You can feel baited. Absolutely!

All I'm asking is that in our collective hurt we don't take those frustrations out on the wrong person/people.

#911 spoilers #911 on abc #buddie spoilers #buddie #oliver stark #eddie diaz #Ryan Guzman #Evan Buckley #Eddie x Buck

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kinardnatural · 1 day ago

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I try to look ahead, sometimes I look back instead part 2

PART 1

PART 3

READ ON AO3

He lasted for about thirty minutes before he decided to leave the group.

It had been going fine at first. Buck had even asked Cole some question and learned that he was working as a high-rise window cleaner. He also learned that he and Tommy had met through a mutual friend years ago and had reconnected, and before he got into details on how that had happened, Buck had asked him more about his job.

“Isn't it scary? Getting up there, knowing that you can fall any moment?”

“Probably not as scary as firefighting. Or flying through a hurricane.”

Buck threw Tommy a quick glance and ducked his head. “He, uh… told you about that, huh?”

“More like prompted it out of him. I saw his medal-”

The medal Buck knew was hanging inside Tommy's bedroom. He started to feel nauseous.

“-and had to ask about it. That must have been something.”

“Yeah. It… was an unforgettable experience,” Buck agreed. “That's when I first met Tommy, actually,” he felt the need to add.

“Really? I thought you all worked at the same station?”

“That was before Buckaroo’s time,” Chimney mentioned.

“Evan was actually my replacement at the 118,” Tommy chimed in. “And it took us seven years to meet.”

“Evan? I thought your name was Buck.”

“Yeah, most people call me Buck.” He felt his face flush and took a huge gulp from his beer in hope to conceal it before anyone took notice.

They continued to chat, and as much as Buck wanted to hate on Cole, he quickly found that he couldn't. He was nice. Very easy to engage in conversations with and indulged in every topic with great interest.

Tommy had found a great guy, and it was killing him.

He had finally had enough and called it a night. He said his goodbyes, uttered them a lot more coldly to Chim than the others, and left.

—

“I'm really sorry, Buck.”

“I heard you the first few times, Chim.” There was only so many times Buck could ignore his pleading brother-in-law their following shift. “It still doesn't change anything.”

“I know you have every right to be mad at me–”

Buck scoffed.

“I may not have thought the whole thing through–”

“You deliberately withheld vital information, Chim,” Hen interjected with a glance up at the pair from her phone. “How did you think this was gonna go?”

“Look, I thought… I wasn't lying about Tommy asking about you. He does that a lot. I figured that if I can get you two together for a gathering that it might ignite some old sparks.”

“You wanted to turn me into a homewrecker in the process? That makes it so much better, Chim.”

“No! No, God no! That wasn't-”

“I don't care what you thought or what your intentions were. You knew I wasn’t over him and you knew he would bring his shiny new boyfriend. H-how would you have felt, if I did the same to you, with Maddie? How great would you feel?”

A pause.

“Not very great.”

Buck scoffed again and shook his head.

“Now, I'm gonna be mad at you for a while, so let me be that. Just… no more meddling. Please.”

“No more meddling! Crossing my heart.”

If only Buck could believe that.

—

“He seemed nice.”

Tommy looked up from his breakfast burrito and glanced at Cole, who seemed very interested in picking on his croissant. It was their typical brunch date, them sitting outside a cafeteria enjoying the lovely weather.

“The barista?”

“No, silly. Buck.”

He damn near choke on his burrito.

“Uh-huh,” he managed, all too casually.

“He is so into you.” The tone was teasing and Tommy shifted on his seat.

“What makes you say that?”

“The way he looked at you? The way he blushed when you called him Even.”

“Evan,” Tommy corrected.

“Evan. Why do you call him that?”

“It's his name.” He swallowed. “I call Chimney by his name too.”

Cole seemed to accept the answer. “Cool.” He leaned back and Tommy relaxed, thinking the conversation was over for a moment when silence hit. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

“So have you thought about it?”

“Thought about what?”

“Buck. And you. Hooking up?”

“Cole.”

“What? I'm curious. He's hot. Like. Really hot. I wouldn't mind being squeezed in between the two of yo–”

“All right, Cole.” That was an image Tommy definitely didn't want imprinted inside his head. The thought of someone else touching Evan was more unwelcoming than not.

“I'm just saying. It would be hot.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow at him.

“Am I not hot enough for you?” He smirked, switching gears.

That seemed to do the trick.

–

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #my fics #ittlasilbi

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tonyskittymug · 2 days ago

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i'm still put-off by pascal!reed's mustache i'm sorry

I know I'm nitpicking but I still don't know why the mcu is giving reed a mustache

#lol the comics are probably gonna give reed a mustache after this movie too i wouldn't be shocked #assuming they haven't given him a mustache already that is #idk bc i haven't been reading new stuff for years now #i've never played the last of us and only just found out recently that joel has a full beard in the game not a mustache #dammit pedro not every character u play has to have a mustache #i'm not saying pedro doesn't look good with a mustache because he does but i'm just annoyed #reed richards #marvel #mcu #fantastic four: first steps #my posts #marvel negativity #mcu negativity #negativity

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 1 day ago

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THE HUNDRED LINE: LAST DEFENSE ACADEMY - Journal #5: Route 0 Days 57-66. [MASSIVE SPOILERS]

//As I mentioned before, due in part to me having more immediate obligations to get through, I ended up taking a break from this game. But when I did, I genuinely was so excited to get back to it that I started to go threw withdrawals.

//I'm not addicted YOU ARE!

//But in all seriousness, I wanted to try and cover as much ground as I possibly could. I was shooting to make go from Day 57, where I left off, to Day 70 at least.

//But man, this game is SO LONG. And these days in particular were jammed with SO MUCH STUFF.

//It's...hard to say how I feel about this arc of the story, but I can confidently say that it's probably the most emotionally damaging part.

//Which is actually ironic. One common theme of the Danganronpa games and their plots is they start of strong, tend to petter out during the middle, and then where it flops massively, it hits back with the most emotionally engaging, and typically the SADDEST part of the story.

//And even though Hundred Line is not split up by chapters, turns out it hit the same way. I complained a bunch about the previous stuff I experienced, but everything I found in this part was LEGENDARY.

//But I can't say any more than that, because again, spoilers.

DO NOT READ THE REST OF THIS POST IF YOU HAVE NOT PLAYED/SEEN THE HUNDRED LINE: LAST DEFENSE ACADEMY. I WILL BE TALKING ABOUT VERY SPECIFIC PLOT POINTS AND MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE GAME.

//So let's get started:

DAY 57:

//One thing I will say out of the gate is that the actual plot progression over the course of these days is honestly kind of slow. It has a really slow, steady buildup, and then immediately, it all comes crashing down.

//The highlight of today's discussion, as I fully expected it would be, is Moko, as it's now been 8 days since she showed up at the school out of nowhere. Seeing as, by this point, she's the only one of the group not on the battlefield yet. I assumed that this arc would be centered around her, but there are other things to note as well.

//Specifically, the Invader Commander that we took prisoner after the last battle, is now in a cage in the courtyard, and Shouma is apparently taking care of her.

//Not gonna lie, Shouma's budding relationship with the enemy commander throughout this part, even if most of what we know is only given by word of mouth, is pretty engaging. Through this initial interaction, I started thinking that he might have had a crush on her.

//By the way, this Invader is CLEARLY an important character SOMEHOW, because she appears on the map and has her own icon, suggesting that she's someone we can talk to. As I said before, my current theory was that this Invader was going to end up being student number 16, since most of Kodaka's games have an evened out cast like that, and Hundred Line's lineup was only really one off.

//Ima and Kako show up a little later because they spent the night playing games and trying to ease into their new relationship dynamic. And credit where it is due, the way they interact now towards each other is MUCH better!

//I think the big issue is that the sister-complex nature of Ima, and the submissive sister nature of Kako made it really hard to relate and sympathize with them both. But now that Ima's worldview has changed and Kako is trying to be more independent, they now seem just like regular siblings, and I can definitely get behind that.

//I would KILL someone to have a Danganronpa/Danganronpa-style game that features siblings, and just HAVE THEM BE SIBLINGS. It's my firm belief, based on...very obvious past experience, that having siblings, especially if they're twins, in a killing game is just a really obvious plot point in the making, where one of them dies, they both die in the same trial, one impersonates the other, etc. There's so little you can do with that idea, which is why I'm never on board with it.

//This is definitely acceptable though. And as rushed as the story felt, I am happy that Ima is now treating Kako like a sister rather than his most cherished property.

//I spent Free Time as I often do; with trying to level up my social stats and physical stats, but during my break, I was given some advice on something.

//Someone told me that it was a really good idea to get everyone to learn Last Yell, and then try abusing that move as much as possible in the battles. Especially the one's that last for a while, i.e. more than one round.

//I haven't actually talked about it before, but to go into a bit more detail here, but up until now, I've mainly been using the voltage meter to use my super abilities and take out enemies in a large group. But on top of using the meter to use ultimate moves, you can also use them to give your character's a boost, like a boost in damage for instance, one of which is called Last Yell.

//The way Last Yell works is once it's activated, whenever an ally uses a skill while you're sitting at exactly 1 Action Point, there's a 50% chance that whoever has Last Yell active will trigger an effect called Support. Support enhances that skill, adding +2 damage and granting 2x Voltage instead of the usual amount.

//The really interesting, and frankly absurd part is that multiple instances of Last Yell can be triggered by a single skill, assuming that most of your characters around you have it activated. These effects stack additively. You can trigger up to 4 instances of Support, resulting in a potential +8 bonus damage and 5x Voltage gain from a single skill, assuming your luck holds.

//Which makes this ability not only INSANELY STRONG, but also VERY STACKABLE.

//The true hilarity begins when you strategically lower your AP to 1 and intentionally leave a few AP-boosting enemies alive. If you line things up right, a single skill can wipe out several of them at once, and each kill can independently trigger Last Yell, rapidly snowballing your Voltage. This Voltage can then be reinvested into activating MORE Last Yell Boosts, amplifying the effect even further.

//When it’s time to face the boss, you repeat the process: bring your AP back down to 1 and use the Voltage you’ve generated to trigger Act Again instead. With the right setup and a bit of RNG, this effectively converts 100 Voltage into multiple skill activations, each one hitting with +8 damage or more.

//And again, this lasts across the whole battle, so you don't need to reapply it to characters after each wave.

//Unfortunately, I didn't have much of a chance to actually TEST this power, because most of the fights I did in this part of the story only lasted around two rounds, and in the major boss one (spoilers) the first round only has you use two characters on the field, and the rest of your squad join in the second round. So there wasn't really any way I could use this in-game hack effectively. But it's definitely something to keep in mind for the future.

//So I grinded a bunch of BP, and got everyone in the squad to learn it.

//I DID consider maybe going on an exploration, because I want to upgrade my gear and potions and don't have enough levels or gear for it at the moment. However, I decided against it, because Nozomi is unavailable for the current period; being too focused on taking care of Moko, and can't come out with us.

//Nozomi kind of carries me during lengthy explorations, so I didn't want to risk going out there without her.

DAY 58:

//Day 58 was pretty uneventful overall. The only major development is that Moko seems to have come down with a fever, and things aren’t looking good for her. Her condition just keeps getting worse, adding to the growing sense of hopelessness surrounding her situation, and Nozomi is running herself ragged trying to help her.

//What stood out to me most during the day was my curiosity about how the invader commander might eventually tie into the main plot.

//Once again, I’ve been speculating that she could be the mysterious 16th character, though based on what’s currently happening, I’m still not entirely sure how that would work. There’s just not enough narrative groundwork laid for that twist, at least not yet.

//Again, nothing much happened today, I just spent the Free Time like I normally would, but the day wraps up with another flashback to Karua.

//In the scene, Karua is nursing a sick dog back to health, and Takumi ends up taking care of her when she herself inevitably falls ill from looking after it. Again, all of these Karua scenes tie back to her subtle connection to Nozomi in some way, and Nozomi herself is being shown to be losing sleep and health because she's too serious about taking care of Moko, just as Karua was this dog.

//It also retroactively explains her actions during the prologue, where she ran off after the stray dog that turns out to be Sirei. She just has a strong instinct to protect lost or sick animals, even at her own expense.

//By the way, I should mention something I’ve noticed but haven’t brought up until now: almost all of Takumi’s flashbacks involving Karua have Clair de Lune playing softly in the background.

//For you Danganronpa fans out there who somehow don't recognize it, that's Kaede's song from V3 that plays at the end of Chapter 1 when Shuichi is in her lab by himself, after she's died. It's a song that's pretty synonymous with Kaede and V3 as a whole, and in the music credits of the game, she's even listed as the song's composer.

//While that track is often associated with Danganronpa, it’s interesting that it only shows up once or twice in those games. Apparently, it's used far more heavily in The Evil Within, which makes sense when you realize that Masafumi Takada, the composer for both Danganronpa and The Hundred Line, also did the music for that game.

//I haven't played The Evil Within, so I don't really understand the deeper meaning of that song being in it, but there's not really much reason for it to be tied to Karua in all the scenes we see of her. So rather than being a deliberate thematic reference, I get the sense that Takada just really, REALLY likes that song, lol.

DAY 59:

//Shouma is clearly forging a deeper connection with the enemy commander. Despite the language barrier between them, he's managed to prove that meaningful communication is possible between our species. Apparently, he spoke to her, and, surprisingly, she not only understood him but seemed to genuinely enjoy the exchange. It’s a small but powerful gesture that suggests a potential bridge between our two worlds.

//However, this development doesn't sit well with the rest of the unit, and it’s easy to understand why.

//The more Shouma learns about the commander, the harder it becomes to uphold the narrative that the Invaders are fundamentally alien or inhuman. They're intelligent, capable of understanding language, and able to form emotional connections, just as any regular human being could. Considering they also use hemoanima to fight and transform, really, the only difference between us and them at this point in terms of nature is that we speak different languages.

//In particular, the likes of Kyoshika and Kurara don't like it, because as far as they're concerned, the Invaders are murderous monsters who must be annihilated. Likening them to fellow humans when protecting humanity is the reason we're here in the first place doesn't bode well for them.

//So when Shouma starts treating the enemy with empathy or even curiosity, it feels like a betrayal of purpose. After all, we’re supposed to be here to protect humanity, not question whether the so-called monsters we're fighting might actually be people too. As those differences fade, so too does the moral clarity of our mission.

//On a different note, I’ve noticed a shift in the game’s pacing. Earlier on, I remember complaining that there wasn’t enough free time to explore or build relationships, but now, I seem to have more downtime than I know what to do with.

//Wanting to make use of it, I went to the school library in the afternoon to boost my social stats and ended up reading yet another heavily censored book. But this one had an interesting detail that stood out.

//It confirmed something I’d been suspecting, and that I talked about in my previous posts for this game. Not all media was simply lost after the Tokyo Residential Complex was established. Some of it was DELIBERATELY destroyed. Specifically, anything containing records of human history before the Complex existed.

//That revelation adds an unsettling layer to the worldbuilding. It makes you wonder what exactly are they trying so hard to erase? What truths have been buried under layers of propaganda and silence?

//We obviously know it's related to World Death, but even that suggests there's more behind World Death's origins and what it actually is than we're let in on.

//With the strange behavior of the Invaders, Shouma’s growing bond with the commander, and the increasingly obvious signs of a rewritten history, I’m starting to question the entire narrative we’ve been given. The real question is...are we REALLY the heroes of this story?

//Again, mostly standard day, but I do want to quickly make a note that there was this line in the breakfast scene that suggested that not even Shouma's dog loved him, and was actually trying to run away from him. Which is actually super depressing, because Shouma's dog was supposed to be the only thing in the world that cared about him, and is the very reason he's out here fighting.

DAY 60:

//We've offically been here for two months, and all dumbass Sirei could do was show up in a suit, apparently not having prepared anything.

//This is where the somewhat casual air of the story starts to take a bit of a turn, and we get more suggestions as to what's really going on here. It starts off with Moko not getting any better, so Nozomi prepares to go out and get ingredients so she can make some kind of medicine with the Gift-O'-Matic. Takumi doesn't want her going alone, so he heads out with her.

//This isn't my first rodeo doing this as part of the story. We basically have to move the characters around the board to three locations to progress. After touching down on the second one though, it suddenly starts raining.

//That rain becomes a thunderstorm after grabbing the third and final ingredient, and not wanting to be struck by lightning, Takumi and Nozomi duck into a nearby building to wait out the storm.

//This is a pretty crucial moment, because this is the first time that Takumi and Nozomi have been alone since they met. And not in a hostile way either.

//However, even though this is Takumi's chance to finally have a one-on-one conversation with her about her potential connection to his childhood friend, he reads the room, and decides not to bring it up directly.

//Nozomi is really out here acting like she's not the most integral member of the party, smh.

//Nozomi ends up talking a little about her routine back in the TRC, though not in much detail. But in the middle of this reflective moment, she accidentally drops a major revelation; one that completely shifts Takumi’s understanding of her place in the story.

//Without meaning to, she lets it slip that she WASN'T recruited into the war effort the same way the rest of us were. In fact, from what she says, it becomes clear that she was never meant to be at the Last Defense Academy at all.

//At least...that's what I'm getting.

//By this point, I had already started to suspect something was off about Nozomi compared to the rest of the group. Rather, I had expected as much since her debut in the trailer; purely from the fact that she had a different means of combat than everyone else.

//Everyone at the academy shares one critical trait: we all have a specific kind of special blood anomaly that enables us to wield Hemoanima...or at the very least, that's the feeling I'm getting from Shouma's flashbacks to the Kamukura hospital. It’s the cornerstone of our combat potential and the primary reason we were drafted into this war.

//But Nozomi stands out. She’s never demonstrated the same affinity for Hemoanima as the rest of us. Instead, she relies entirely on her custom artificial armor to fight. And now, with this accidental admission, the pieces begin to fall into place.

//My guess is the real reason she can’t use Hemoanima is because she doesn’t have the blood type, and she was never compatible in the first place. Unlike the rest of us, she wasn’t chosen; she herself chose this path. She VOLUNTEERED to fight in a war she wasn’t meant to be a part of.

//Realizing she’s said too much, Nozomi goes quiet. But instead of shutting down completely or deflecting with a lie, she simply asks Takumi to drop the subject...for now.

//I like Nozomi's reaction to this. She doesn't freak out about it, she just makes a calm request. It shows that she trusts him, not just to keep her secret, but to respect her boundaries. And considering how rocky they started off, this is a good thing.

//She’s not ready to talk about it, and yet she’s vulnerable enough in his presence to admit that.

//However, the situation however only gets more confusing after that.

//Nozomi quietly reveals that her mother was a researcher; a detail that immediately draws ANOTHER parallel to Karua, whose mother is also known to be involved in scientific work. We found this out during Karua's introduction in the prologue.

//But as Nozomi continues, the similarities begin to blur into something more unsettling. She offhandedly mentions that her own birth was one of her mother’s many experiments, implying she may have been created or modified as part of a larger scientific agenda. It’s this almost chilling admission that casts her entire existence in a more ambiguous, possibly artificial light.

//Adding to that mystery, Nozomi's mother is supposedly dead, while Karua’s mother is still alive...

//...as far as WE presume, at least. The truth is, we have never MET Karua's mother. She only talks about how she's never home, so the possibility that Karua's mother could be gone is also non-zero.

//There's a chance that Karua's mother did pass away, and Karua never really talked about it to the Sumino family.

//And then there’s the matter of their fathers. Both Nozomi and Karua lost their fathers in car accidents during childhood. That parallel feels too specific to be coincidence, yet the emotional texture around each story is distinct enough to prevent an easy conclusion.

//I just want to give this game credit for doing a really good job at handling the Nozomi/Karua mystery. Because no mystery in this game has fucked with my brain more than this one.

//These two seem to share a mirrored origin, as if they’re reflections of one another rather than entirely separate people. On the surface, they appear fundamentally different in personality, outlook, and role in the story, but they are strikingly aligned in appearance, backstory, connections to scientific institutions, and a sense of being shaped by forces beyond their control.

//The game is walking a fine line, skillfully feeding just enough symmetry to make you suspicious, while also presenting enough divergence to keep you uncertain.

//There have been so many possibilities and explanations brought up so far. Are they sisters? Clones? Variants from different timelines?

//None of those feel right, and yet, there's no clearly obvious way to explain it either, other than Karua and Nozomi just ARE the same person. But again, even THAT doesn't feel right with all that we know so far!

DAY 61:

//By the time Takumi and Nozomi return to the academy the next morning, having weathered the storm overnight, they're greeted at the entrance by Eito, who’s waiting with unexpected news.

//Though their original reason for venturing out was to gather ingredients to make medicine for Moko, it turns out that Moko has already made a full recovery in their absence. And sure enough, when we return to the cafeteria, there she is, waiting for us.

//(GOD she is so absurdly big...!)

//Upon reuniting, Moko properly introduces herself for the first time, and her presence INSTANTLY shifts the atmosphere. What follows is a heartwarming reunion between her and Nozomi.

//As for Moko herself...Yeah, I REALLY like her!

//It becomes clear pretty quickly that all the good feats Nozomi spouted about Moko before are true. She's loud, goofy, and delightfully over-the-top, she barrels into the scene with an energy that’s impossible to ignore. Her personality is larger than life, and in just this brief introduction, she manages to bring levity and laughter.

//There’s something incredibly endearing about how unfiltered and open she is, even when she's saying some kind of violent bullshit. She has a kind of “big sister” presence, but not in a solemn or protective way, more in the sense that she’s the type to ruffle your hair, tease you relentlessly, and then throw you over her shoulder affectionately.

//Even in this short exchange, it’s hard not to smile when she’s on screen.

//Although, we do get a very brief hint that something's not quite right with her when everyone asks if she's fit and fighting ready to combat the Invaders. More on that in a bit though.

DAY 62:

//Takumi begins today dwelling on his discussions with Nozomi, and isn't really giving much attention to her accidental confession. Instead, he's focusing more in the experimental side of things.

//Assuming Nozomi IS Karua, he suspects that the experiments that Nozomi underwent is the reason why she doesn't remember him. Which...you know, I'm willing to give credence on this line of thinking. Even if I am left guessing, that's still a better avenue than nothing.

//But even with that, there's so much lore to unpack here.

//For reasons that I can't quite explain, I keep going to check up on the captured commander every morning before I head to the restaurant, thinking that she might do something or say anything to me. I kind of wanted to see if anything had changed behind the scenes.

//On the first day when I went to check on her she looked sad, but since then, her expression is more passive and she hasn't been saying anything. She's not been smiling or anything, but I keep going back to look.

//Entering the cafeteria, Moko is standing in the middle of the room and recounting a story that's making everyone laugh their asses off over it.

//Moko tells a lot of stories at breakfast over the course of these few days. The best part about them is I can't tell if they're tall tales or not, because knowing who's writing this game, these events are perfectly plausible.

//What made me laugh was that whenever all the characters are in a room together, I have a tendency to talk to all the characters I'm not supposed to talk to, then talk to the important character to progress the story; just so I don't miss out on all the optional dialogue. And this time when I did it, I talked to Ima, who was basically saying that he's worried that Kako would be inspired by Moko, and hopes that she doesn't start thinking she wants to be like her, followed immediately by Kako saying she wants to be just like her. That gave me a tickle.

//We actually cut to business quickly after the story, and as it turns out, Moko, suspiciously, doesn't remember anything when she got captured by the invaders, suggesting that her memory had been wiped. So we're unfortunately not getting much out of her on THAT front for the moment.

//Not that I expected we would. We don't tend to have a lot of luck with this kind of thing.

//It took me a while to click honestly. I thought that the game was suggesting that Shouma was going to have a romantic tension with the Invader we captured, but right now it seems more like he's treating her like a pet.

//RESPECTFULLY of course, but he's not quite seeing her as an equal human being. Or rather, maybe he is seeing her as an equal, but only because he himself thinks he's on a dog's level.

DAY 63:

//NOOOOTHING FUUUUCKING HAAAAPPEEEENED!

//Basically we just rinse and repeated what happened the previous day. Wake up, hear Moko chatting about shit in the cafeteria, something doesn't seem right, Free Time.

//I do have a couple small highlights. For one, you can talk to Yugamu in the hallway before you go to breakfast.

//Takumi and Yugamu haven't had a single wholesome interaction yet. Takumi just DOES NOT LIKE THIS MAN, haha.

//Similarly, Darumi clearly doesn't like Moko at all. But obviously, that's because happy situations where people are alive and merry are her kryptonite basically.

//And once again, Nozomi herself seems to be noticing more keenly that something is up with Moko.

DAY 64:

//That kind of culminates into today, and the following day too.

//The moment you walk into the cafeteria, you sense there's something off about Moko. Unlike the last two days, she’s not at her usual post telling the morning story, and instead looking distant and aloof in the corner, in a way that's kind of eerie.

//I actually kind of started getting chills at this point. I should have realized at that time that they must have meant something.

//More directly, the news for today is that through his interactions, Shouma has somehow taught the Invader to speak like a human. Or at the very least, he managed to teach her how to say the word "Beautiful" in their language.

//I honestly do feel a little bit bad for Shouma in this part of the story, because he clearly cares about the Invader we captured. But everyone else is treating her like a feral animal with rabies, and honestly, that might be the safer bet. But still, she doesn’t seem violent. I just hope Shouma’s attachment doesn’t end up getting someone hurt, or cause a rift in the group.

//Later that evening, Nozomi shows up at Takumi’s door, and invites him to a quiet classroom to talk privately. She says she suspects Moko is hiding something, which...yeah, no kidding. Moko’s whole vibe has been really off lately, despite having a really corny introduction.

//After a short conversation, Nozomi agrees to confront her. It's risky, but we need answers before this situation spirals any further out of control.

DAY 65:

//This is where things go from "Oh God" to "OH SHIT!"

//Remember how I mentioned that this part of the story is the most emotional trainwreck we've seen so far? Well, here's why.

//Moko tells another story in the morning, and I swear, these tales get more outlandish as things go along.

//But more importantly, Takumi suspects that Nozomi called Moko to the same room she called him the previous day, and worrying for her, he goes to eavesdrop.

//Things...don't go well.

//Kudos to Nozomi, she at least goes out of her way to explain thoroughly to Moko what she noticed, and why she was concerned, on top of giving her very good reasoning for it. But Moko's response is to blow up on her, and she even accuses her of being a fake friend, getting close for no reason other than wanting whatever information she forgot about the Invaders.

//And it becomes very clear very quickly why Moko is suddenly acting so untowards...and it's NOT pretty.

//Takumi goes to check up on Nozomi afterwards to see if she's okay, and ends up coming clean about eavesdropping.

//Side note, Nozomi's room is actually super cute and cozy looking. Not-Not really much of a big deal, kinda just wanted to mention it because I like it.

//Anyway, a conversation ensues, and Takumi comforts Nozomi, sympathizing with her, and Nozomi resolves to apologize to Moko in the morning.

//Things seem like they're really tense after Moko and Nozomi's argument, but then somehow, things get even worse.

//And by the way...get used to hearing me say that. Because for these last few days to cover here, we just get bad news after bad news after bad news, and we keep getting the shit beaten out of us by the narrative.

//The boy wreathed in the Undying Flames appears again in Takumi’s room that night, and as we are already aware of by now, every time he shows up, disaster follows. First, it was Sirei’s death, then Hiruko vanished, etcetera.

//Takumi doesn’t waste a second. He bolts after the boy, convinced the ghost is headed toward the Defense Room (Not sure why because if the ghost was looming in the school he'd have multiple chances to get to the Defense Room, but...okay)

//But instead of catching up to him, he runs straight into Moko in the hallway. And this is where everything gets surreal.

//Moko's dialogue starts glitching with random capital letters in it. Her sprite begins to warp as well, and as Takumi follows her, her features become twisted and grotesque.

//When Takumi finally reaches the Defense Room, it’s not the boy waiting there, but Moko. And what he sees is nothing short of a nightmare. Moko is standing far too close to the barrier of Undying Flames. Takumi tries to pull her back, to stop her from breaching whatever lies behind the fire, but then she turns...

//OH FUCK MY ASS!!!??

//Yeah, not gonna lie, even with the buildup, this CG scared the SHIT out of me! It was WAY more horrifying than I thought it would end up being, and it's enough to make someone pull a Tsubasa and throw the hell up.

//When I first saw what was going on, I had the sickening thought that what happened is the Invaders turned Moko into one of them when they captured her. I haven't talked about it explicitly, but I had this theory before that the Invaders weren’t born, but were actually humans twisted into something else. If they captured Moko, maybe that’s what happened to her. And maybe all of her weird mannerisms the previous few days were just the result of her humanity slipping away.

//Just as things spiral completely out of control, not only does Nozomi appear, but the Undying Flames react, almost like they recognize her presence. They lash out at "Moko," hurling her out of the room and out of the school entirely.

//Takumi and Nozomi go to get her, but before that, Takumi insists they suit up. So with it being just the two of them, and with no alarms sounding, they jump into the battlefield.

//Before we fight, we get a few more cutscenes of Nozomi trying to get through to Moko. I get where she's coming from, like, she really wants to believe there’s still a piece of her friend left in that thing, but man, she’s really slow to accept that Moko is long gone.

//It’s rough to watch honestly. The story is putting Nozomi through the emotional wringer, and she barely gets a breath before it throws her into another devastating scene.

//The first round of the fight kicks off with just Nozomi and Takumi squaring off against the thing wearing Moko’s face, and a swarm of smaller, shadow-like creatures she summons.

//I'm gonna be completely honest, I wasn’t expecting her to hit that hard (despite, you know, the fact that Moko is a wrestler), so Takumi actually got taken out in the first round. Luckily, he did enough damage, and Nozomi finished Moko off pretty quickly.

/.Visually, this whole display is horrifically stunning. Not only is the enemy design grotesque, but the dialogue cuts deep. The horror elements are firing on all cylinders, and I think this is the closest I've ever been to finding one of Kodaka's games genuinely scary.

//Thankfully, backup arrives just in time. The rest of the gang shows up finally, where Yugamu puts his bizarre and encyclopedic knowledge of the human body to use, and explains the full scope of the situation.

//As it turns out, Moko wasn’t possessed, and she didn’t turn into anything. What we’ve been fighting isn’t Moko at all. It’s an Invader Commander wearing her skin, and it's been im impersonating her from the start.

//Looking back, this explains A LOT. It explains how and why Moko was able to get through the wall of fire without any hemoanima-based fire hydrant, and ALSO why when she showed up, the school alarm sounded. It's kinda freaky looking back and noticing all the oddities.

//Then Fake Moko turns up the nightmare factor, as she starts creating twisted shadow versions of the team; one for each of us. It’s a full-blown shadow clone battle, and honestly, it’s a fun mechanic.

//Darumi throws out a meta-comment pre-fight, "Clones make things easier for the devs," which cracks me up even as I’m clenching through the chaos.

//Honestly, this battle, at least for the first half, is TOUGH! More than I expected. The shadow clones have all our moves and abilities, and the only saving grace is that they don't have much health, meaning one good super move is taking them out easily. It's best to make sure you use the characters who can hit in a wide area with their attacks, like Gaku or Ima.

//But I make a point to let Nozomi land the final blow. She’s earned it.

//When the Invader finally collapses, it drops the mask. I'm impressed because this wasn't just mimicry. This thing had access to all of Moko’s memories, her voice, her habits, everything. It was a near-perfect copy. The only reason we even noticed something was wrong was because of the subtle breaks.

//Then comes the gut punch: the commander confirms it. The real Moko is dead. There’s no saving her. She’s gone. And with that, any hope of her returning to the team dies too.

//On top of that, the commander's initial plan was to go in under the guise of Moko being sick, and get to the Defense Room without anyone noticing. But because Nozomi never left its side, that was impossible. They tried to do it on the day Nozomi left with Takumi, which is why Moko conviniently woke up.

//So we're probably not even gonna be able to see what Moko can do until we do another playthrough, where we might get a chance to save her before she gets captured.

//This affects everyone pretty badly, because they'd all grown to really like Moko, only now finding out she was never the real deal. Just a copy that was out to get them all. The scene ends with Eito killing it when it went silent.

//Out of rage, detest, and spite against the Invaders for what they did to Moko, the others are ready to take it out on the Invader we’ve been keeping locked up, the one Shouma’s been trying to reach. Ultimately though, they’re simply heartbroken, betrayed, and just looking for somewhere to put that pain.

//But before it explodes into another tragedy, Eito steps in. Then Takumi. And, in what might be the most heartbreaking part of all, even Nozomi asks everyone to stop. Despite being ridden with Despair over finding out her best friend was killed by the enemy and impersonated, she rightfully points out that now's not really a good time. They should come to a conclusion in the morning.

DAY 66:

//No, far from it. Day 65 was an emotional beating in and of itself, but waking up literally the next morning, and things somehow go from ABSOLUTELY AWFUL to EVEN WORSE!

//We honestly shouldn't have even brought up the possibility of killing the Invader we captured, because lo and behold, that bitch ESCAPED from the cage!

//The timing is way too convenient. The lock on her holding cell has been clearly broken, not picked or bypassed, and considering she didn't have the means of getting out on her own because her abilities were deactivated, someone let her out. That much is obvious.

//Naturally, all eyes turn to Shouma. He had the motive and he had the access, since he was assigned to watch her. It adds up on the surface, but even the characters themselves point out that it still doesn’t sit right. Shouma doesn't have the emotional will to betray everyone, as much as he cared for the Invader and as much as he tried to defend her. Plus, he had the key to her cage, so why would he break the lock.

//Personally, I suspect Eito again. He's still my prime suspect for killing Sirei and making Hiruko vanish, as well as burning our food. So this could be the next phase of his plan.

//The problem is I really don't understand his angle this time, assuming that he IS the traitor.

//Then again, I never understand what his angle is. He’s clearly trying to weaken us from within for whatever reason, but this seems like a really unprompted tactic. Why release someone we were planning to execute anyway?

//Takumi, on the other hand, doubles down on blaming the Undying Flames Boy. He’s convinced the ghost is orchestrating all of this from the shadows.

//But Nozomi, ever the voice of reason despite everything, finally pushes back, finally pointing out that without the boy’s sudden appearance, Takumi never would have found Fake Moko in time. If anything, the boy SAVED us.

//I don't really get why Takumi is so insistent the Undying Flames boy is evil when he hasn't really done anything untowards yet. Takumi might just be that stupid, or at the very least, he's not spending much time thinking about it.

//And just as we’re all knee-deep in suspicion and tension, the situation gets even worse. Turns out, the escaped Invader didn’t leave alone.

//One thing that everyone noticed early that morning is that the Tsukumo Twins didn't show up to breakfast. We assumed they were late again, because they both slept in after the last big battle we did, but the situation is...far worse than we thought.

//Takumi goes to the Entrance Hall, and as he does, Kako suddenly comes back in, dressed in her Class Armor, and no sign of Ima. She passes out, and after she recovers, we find out that the Invader left the academy and took him hostage.

//Ima. The newest member of our team. The one who just started opening up, started fitting in. And now he’s gone.

//But...haha...SAY IT WITH ME EVERYONE! "IT! GETS! WORSE!"

//The fire extinguishers in the entrance hall and the emergency ones on the bus are BOTH BROKEN. So not only can we not get outside the Wall of Flames to chase after Ima and save him but we’re essentially TRAPPED IN THE SCHOOL! Surrounded by the Undying Flames, with no clear way out.

//This is bad for multiple reasons. The main one is that we obviously can't rescue Ima from whatever fate he's currently suffering, but also we get most of our resources from random shit we happen to scavange in the wild. Now we can't even do that.

// might be misremembering here, but I'm pretty sure Takumi blames the Undying Flames boy again.

I still don’t understand Takumi’s obsession with him. Every time he’s shown up, something helpful has happened, if not directly, then indirectly. He’s never spoken a word, never raised a hand against us. If anything, he seems like the only one trying to guide us. And yet, Takumi can’t let it go.

//The loss of Ima hits hard. We were just beginning to get to know him, to fold him into the rhythm of the group. And now, just like Hiruko, and just like Moko, he’s gone. Probably permanently. At this point, I’m scared to hope for anything different.

Conclusion:

//After my disappointments from the previous arc of the story, this one brought some amazing plot points, mysteries, and generally awesome times all around. Here's my takeaways:

The mystery of how Nozomi is connected to Karua, or whether they are the same person or not, is starting to become more and more layered, and as such, I gradually grow more and more interested in it.

I feel really bad for Nozomi in this part. She got emotionally damaged by what happened and I don't know how she's going to cope with it going forward.

Shouma's unexpected fondness and budding relationship with the Invader Commander, though it only lasted a few days, was unexpected, but not unwelcome. I enjoyed it.

The whole situation with Moko turning out to be an enemy commander in disguise was so sad, so TERRIFYING, and so BRILLIANT. Day 65 genuinely had my heart racing the whole time.

My hopes for Ima's survival after this are not high. Now that the Invaders have him, I think it's light's out for him. He's in my prayers though.

I am honestly a little disappointed that both Ima and Moko are gone. I only got to use Ima in two battles, and I didn't get to use Moko in ANY. I'm really hoping my theory about the timeline reset is right so I can use them both for real.

//Man, you don't know how good it feels to finally be back to playing this game again. Like I said, I was starting to go into withdrawals during my break. I'm enjoying it THAT much, even with all the despair and pain it's giving me.

//Can't wait to see what happens next~

-Mod

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