#I'd like to elaborate on it a bit more when I have more time and don't need to be going to bed ...

[sskk-manifesto]

What a good episode. Maaaaaan

[camels-pen]

got inspired by a fic i read the other day, but didn't quite hit the right spots for me so. time to write out a new wip idea

The concept of that fic really grabbed me - Jason and Tim having a bodyswap the same day Jason wakes up in his coffin, at a point after Tim had already visited Bruce and Alfred with his insistence that Batman needed a Robin - but for what I was thinking, by the time Jason convinces Bruce and Alfred of who he is, Tim's already started to dig himself out of the coffin. And when the three of them show up at the cemetery, the grave's empty.

Tim would be catatonic and go through much of the same stuff canon Jason went through before being found and dunked in the Pit. He'd end up enduring the whole League of Assassins shtick that canon Jason went through while at the same time Jason is dealing with Tim's regular person life. Both of them struggled a bit trying to imitate the other, but they managed- Tim with not much issue considering no one in the LoA was close to Jason, and Jason trying to manage Janet Drake's clearly growing concern every time he slips up.

Like, imagine Tim, desperately trying to imitate what he knows of Jason from watching Robin on the streets and seeing Jay in a few galas here and there. And one day, Talia tries to tell him he'd been quickly replaced to get him to finally listen and Kill Somebody/accept he was staying with the League until they deemed him fit to leave.

And Tim looks at a picture of himself, hanging around the front yard of Wayne Manor with Bruce, Alfred, and Dick. Another picture showing himself in an ill-fitting Robin uniform on a rooftop and seemingly getting lectured by Batman, who looms in front of him.

And he says "I'm not buyin' it."

Somehow convinces Talia that he's not convinced that the Tim in the photo (who is probably Jason and thank god, Tim was really worried about what happened to Jason's mind- or rather, his own body; he didn't actually consider Jason coming back to life until now) and she arranges a short trip for him to Gotham to see for himself.

Tim really struggles the next two days to keep up the Jason act, but he's pretty sure Talia and the others were just chalking it up to nerves at seeing his family again and the "newest addition".

When he finally gets to Gotham, he doesn't bother being stealthy. He doesn't have the skills- no matter how much Ra's and Talia's goons have been trying to beat it into him- and even if he did, he doubted he'd be able to sneak away from his own teachers that were stalking him from the shadows.

So he does his best to be casual. Walks straight towards Wayne Manor, and when he can actually start to hear his assassin stalkers the tiniest bit as he approaches the gate- a sign they're getting really restless- he decides now or never and bolts the rest of the way.

He thinks, if he had come sooner to Gotham, he would've tried fitting through the gaps in the bars- as if he was still 13 and small enough to fit- but as it is, Tim's spent 6 months in this body and he's not going to make that mistake.

Instead he slams a hand on the buzzer and says as fast as he can, "it's Tim! Tim Drake! There's assassins, open the gate!"

He has a heartstopping moment when nothing happens- when there's no answer and the ninjas are getting closer and closer and- And then it opens and Tim doesn't stop with his relief, he runs.

The door is opened not by Mr. Pennyworth, but by Bruce himself, a belt clipped around his waist, but entirely in sleepwear. He has something in his other hand and as he yells, "duck!" Tim can only think it's some kind of bomb and dives for the ground.

He was sort of right. It was a smoke bomb. He heard and smelled it hissing away behind him, and saw the cloud of smoke in his peripheral vision.

Bruce wasted no time running past him and barking, "Follow Alfred to the cave!" Tim took a moment to just breathe, feeling much more safe with Batman fighting to protect him. When Bruce looked back at him through a spot in the smoke, he yelled, "Go!"

Tim scrambled to obey, trying to run and stand and awkwardly doing both to get in the home. Mr. Pennyworth was just inside the foyer, out of sight of the windows, now that Tim noticed, and holding a shotgun.

He was also wearing a fluffy blue bathrobe and fuzzy pink bunny slippers.

Tim blinked. "Uhhh,"

"Come along, Master Tim. We must be quick."

He didn't protest and followed him down to the Cave, where Jason in Tim's body sat waiting at the Batcomputer.

Man, I'm not completely sure on the timing, but imagine Tim finally getting back into his body and it's- he's taller than he used to be, bulkier too. And there are reflexes and muscle memory stuff he doesn't remember at all, but now just has.

He- he was Robin. Or, his body at least, and he felt like it. But he never was Robin. Not really. He never got a proper outing, never even received Bruce's official approval for it.

It was strange. And not totally a good strange.

He thought about the body he had. He didn't have a lot of love for it- puberty would do that to anyone- but it was his. And that saying about not knowing what you have until you lose it? Yeah.

Tim felt like crying.

[throughpatchesofviolet]

Hellbat sent me some new Heathcliff fanart, earlier, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it ... I miss him so much.

[irisintheafterglow]

you had a creep-sized problem, and you spot your solution sitting on a bench next to a pretzel cart. he doesn't have time to brush you off before you're hurriedly making your case.

"hi there," you begin with a shaking voice. "i'm so sorry, but would you mind walking me just a little bit that way?" you point past the arena's third-floor gift shop toward a hidden walkway designated for volunteers and staff only. his surgical mask covers half his face, but his abrasive nature is clear in his body language.

"ask someone else," he replies dryly and shifts away from you, but your sound of panic makes him pause, slightly irritated why you continued to bother him. "what?"

"i just need to get over there, past that," you elaborate, pointing in the same direction but lingering your hand over a figure stalking you in the distance. he clocks the guy pacing a few yards away to block your path, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. the guy is holding his phone in a way that allows him to quickly point it and take a photo before the victim is none the wiser, and you'd caught him following you through the glass reflection of a soda fridge. with only a few minutes left until you had to start your shift, you needed a way to bypass him without drawing too much attention to yourself, so you roped in the nearest strong-looking guy to hopefully escort you to check-in. "please. i work the merch stands, i can get you a free shirt or something."

for a moment, you think he's going to refuse again and you're on the verge of apologizing before he mutters a barely perceptible "fine." he stands to his full height, and it makes your mouth go dry. he could be one of the olympians, all broad-shouldered and strong-calved. his figure was relatively lean, but you couldn't help but notice the way his muscles rippled under the tight fabric of his track jacket. without another word, he positions himself on your left side between you and the creep and begins walking.

"i like your jacket," you offer. if he was going out of his way to help you, the least you could do was make polite conversation. you hurry behind him and miss the way the crowd of game spectators stop in their tracks to look at your escort. "first time at the olympics?"

"been here before," he answers and you're surprised by the way annoyance has disappeared from his voice.

"oh, really? do you have a favorite event?"

"volleyball," the stranger replies without hesitation.

"that's mine too. all the teams are really talented this year, but i think japan is in it to win," you agree and he hums in what you can only consider as amusement. you don't notice the way the crowd pulls out their phones and whispers among each other, pointing at his mask-clad face and the two moles above his eyebrow barely covered by a perfect black curl.

"you think they'll get gold?"

"i'd be shocked if they didn't, what with the new guys they just signed and all. that spiker from the private school in tokyo is supposed to be super good." you accidentally bump his shoulder as a marker and poster are shoved in his direction, but think nothing more of it.

"mmm, the germaphobe with the mask," he deadpans. "people think he's a freak."

"i think the mask makes him cooler, the mystery of it all," you argue obliviously, and he glances at you and your endearingly clueless nature. your eyes sparkle. his cheeks feel warm under the fabric of his mask.

a few minutes later, he deposits you at the staff check-in and nods a curt goodbye.

"i'll be coming to collect that free shirt," he concludes with the barest hint of humor in his voice. at ease, you finally crack a smile and thank him profusely before he turns to leave. you've just finished signing your initials when you finally notice your supervisor staring at you. her eyes dart between you and the receding silhouette of your bodyguard down the hall; specifically, the words printed on the back of his jacket you were so busy admiring earlier.

men's volleyball team - sakusa kiyoomi.

bear with me i haven't written in a long time but i miss my silly little volleyball player grump of a bf so badly

[txttletale]

Probably a stupid question, but I've been on masculinizing hrt for five years and had top surgery, but I'm probably gonna start living as a woman again soon because I feel like it - I'd rather explode than be called "detrans", I know the proper term is just "cis" when I'm just describing my gender but if I'm describing the *process* that got me here does "retransitioning" or something work? Kind of caught between not wanting to seem like I'm doing some ~afab transfem~ bullshit, feeling like my situation is more complicated than "cis woman full stop", and not wanting to be associated with the detrans movement.

i think 'retransitioning' is a fine word -- like, the thing about 'detransition' is that it implies 'transition' as like, a binary, one-way process, right, that you are 'naturally', prediscursively, Something and that change is a Transition that must be Reversed. you're not moving backwards, you're moving forward with a new understanding of yourself. and yknow i think it is fine to draw parallels and understanding of your own situation through comparisons to trans women, right, especially because i'm sure that someone who has been on masculinizing HRT and is known to the people in their life as 'a man' goign from that to presenting 'as a woman' is going to be subject to transmisogyny

like just frankly you will probably end up having a lot of experiences that are similar to those of a trans woman, and find that point of comparison useful. the reason the 'afab transfems' or whatever on here are so noxious are because they are either 1. using transfem to mean 'like a woman, but Not' or 2. doing an elaborate identity-politics-darvo routine to yell at trans women and wage a campaign of epistemic violence against them right? i think if you try to talk to transfems about those commonalities and frame them as that, as commonalitiesi and shared experiences of navigating the world, many of them will be amenable and willing to build that kind of solidarity

& at the same time your 'transition' in this regard will be much easier than that of a trans woman, even though you might very well run up against transmisogynistic resistance, bc transphobic institutions will in fact be champing at the bit to help you 'stop being trans'. and i think the best thing you can do in this situation is to reject this framing of transness as Aberration and casab as Natural, Unquestioned Truth. and you seem to be doing this already! so idk you seem to have a good head on your shoulders and i think if you just like talk to the trans people and women in your life with this kind of attitude you will be fine and find way sto communicate your experiences that are helfpul

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

The Telling Truth: When 'Show, Don't Tell' Doesn't Apply (You Don't Always Have To Show, Don't Tell.)

Hey there, fellow writers and beloved members of the writeblr community! 📝✨

Today, I want to talk about something that's been on my mind lately, and I have a feeling it might resonate with many of you too. It's about that age-old writing advice we've all heard a million times: "Show, don't tell." Now, don't get me wrong – it's great advice, and it has its place in our writing toolbox. But here's the thing: it's not the be-all and end-all of good writing. In fact, I'd argue that sometimes, it's perfectly okay – even necessary – to tell rather than show.

First things first, let's address the elephant in the room. The "show, don't tell" rule has been drilled into our heads since we first picked up a pen (or opened a Word document) with the intention of writing creatively. It's been repeated in writing workshops, creative writing classes, and countless craft books. And for good reason! Showing can create vivid, immersive experiences for readers, allowing them to feel like they're right there in the story.

But here's where things get a bit tricky: like any rule in writing (or in life, for that matter), it's not absolute. There are times when telling is not just acceptable, but actually preferable. And that's what you all will explore today in this hopefully understandable blog post.

Let's start by breaking down why "show, don't tell" is so popular. When we show instead of tell, we're engaging the reader's senses and emotions. We're painting a picture with words, allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions based on the details we provide. It's a powerful technique that can make our writing more engaging and memorable.

For example, instead of saying "Sarah was angry," we might write, "Sarah's fists clenched at her sides, her jaw tight as she glared at the broken vase." This gives the reader a clearer image and allows them to infer Sarah's emotional state.

But here's the thing: sometimes, we don't need or want that level of detail. Sometimes, efficiency in storytelling is more important than painting an elaborate picture. And that's where telling comes in handy.

Imagine if every single emotion, action, or piece of information in your story was shown rather than told. Your novel would probably be thousands of pages long, and your readers might get lost in the sea of details, losing sight of the main plot or character arcs.

So, when might telling be more appropriate? Let's explore some scenarios:

Summarizing less important events: If you're writing a story that spans a long period, you don't need to show every single day or event. Telling can help you summarize periods of time or less crucial events quickly, allowing you to focus on the more important parts of your story.

For instance: "The next few weeks passed in a blur of exams and late-night study sessions." This sentence tells us what happened without going into unnecessary detail about each day.

Providing necessary background information: Sometimes, you need to give your readers some context or backstory. While you can certainly weave this information into scenes, there are times when a straightforward telling of facts is more efficient.

Example: "The war had been raging for three years before Sarah's village was attacked." This quickly gives us important context without needing to show the entire history of the war.

Establishing pace and rhythm: Alternating between showing and telling can help you control the pace of your story. Showing tends to slow things down, allowing readers to immerse themselves in a moment. Telling can speed things up, moving the story along more quickly when needed.

Clarifying complex ideas or emotions: Some concepts or feelings are abstract or complex enough that showing alone might not suffice. In these cases, a bit of telling can help ensure your readers understand what's happening.

For example: "The quantum entanglement theory had always fascinated John, but explaining it to others often left him feeling frustrated and misunderstood." Here, we're telling the reader about John's relationship with this complex scientific concept, which might be difficult to show effectively.

Maintaining your narrative voice: Sometimes, telling is simply more in line with your narrative voice or the tone of your story. This is especially true if you're writing in a more direct or conversational style.

Now, I can almost hear some of you saying, "But wait! I've always been told that showing is always better!" And I completely get it. I'm a writer myself and prioritize "Show, Don't tell." in my writing all the time. We've been conditioned to believe that showing is superior in all cases. But we can take a moment to challenge that notion.

Think about some of your favorite books. Chances are, they use a mix of showing and telling. Even the most critically acclaimed authors don't adhere strictly to "show, don't tell" all the time. They understand that good writing is about balance and knowing when to use each technique effectively.

Take, for instance, the opening line of George Orwell's "1984": "It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen." This is a perfect blend of showing and telling. Orwell shows us it's a bright, cold day (we can imagine the crisp air and clear sky), but he tells us about the clocks striking thirteen. This immediate telling gives us crucial information about the world we're entering – it's not quite like our own.

Or consider this passage from Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice": "Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character." Here, Austen is clearly telling us about Mr. Bennet's character rather than showing it through his actions. And yet, it works beautifully, giving us a quick, clear insight into both Mr. Bennet and his wife.

The key is to use both techniques strategically. So, how can you decide when to show and when to tell? Here are some tips:

Consider the importance of the information: Is this a crucial moment in your story, a pivotal emotion, or a key piece of character development? If so, it might be worth showing. If it's more of a transitional moment or background information, telling might be more appropriate.

Think about pacing: If you want to slow down and really immerse your reader in a moment, show it. If you need to move things along more quickly, tell it.

Evaluate the complexity: If you're dealing with a complex emotion or concept, consider whether showing alone will be enough to convey it clearly. Sometimes, a combination of showing and telling works best for complex ideas.

Consider your word count: If you're working with strict word count limitations (like in short stories or flash fiction), telling can help you convey necessary information more concisely.

Trust your instincts (Important): As you write more, you'll develop a feel for when showing or telling works better. Trust your gut, and don't be afraid to experiment.

Now, let's talk about how to tell effectively when you do choose to use it. Because here's the thing: telling doesn't have to be boring or flat. It can be just as engaging and stylish as showing when done well. Here are some tips for effective telling:

Use strong, specific language: Instead of using vague or generic words, opt for more specific, evocative language. For example, instead of "She was sad," you might write, "A profound melancholy settled over her."

Incorporate sensory details: Even when telling, you can include sensory information to make it more vivid. "The room was cold" becomes more engaging as "A bone-chilling cold permeated the room."

Use metaphors and similes: These can help make your telling more colorful and memorable. "His anger was like a volcano ready to erupt" paints a vivid picture without showing the anger in action.

Keep it concise: One of the advantages of telling is its efficiency. Don't negate that by being overly wordy. Get to the point, but do it with style.

Vary your sentence structure: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, more flowing ones to create rhythm and maintain interest.

Remember, the goal is to create a seamless narrative that engages your reader. Sometimes that means showing, sometimes it means telling, and often it means a artful blend of both.

It's also worth noting that different genres and styles of writing may lean more heavily on one technique or the other. Literary fiction often employs more showing, delving deep into characters' psyches and painting elaborate scenes. Genre fiction, on the other hand, might use more telling to keep the plot moving at a brisker pace. Neither approach is inherently better – it all depends on what works best for your story and your style.

Now, I want to address something that I think many of us struggle with: the guilt or anxiety we might feel when we catch ourselves telling instead of showing. It's easy to fall into the trap of second-guessing every sentence, wondering if we should be showing more. But here's the truth: that kind of constant self-doubt can be paralyzing and ultimately detrimental to your writing process.

So, I want you to understand and think: It's okay to tell sometimes. You're not a bad writer for using telling in your work. In fact, knowing when and how to use telling effectively is a sign of a skilled writer.

Here's some practical ways to incorporate this mindset into your writing process:

First Draft Freedom: When you're writing your first draft, give yourself permission to write however it comes out. If that means more telling than showing, that's absolutely fine. The important thing is to get the story down. You can always revise and add more "showing" elements later if needed.

Revision with Purpose: When you're revising, don't automatically change every instance of telling to showing. Instead, ask yourself: Does this serve the story better as telling or showing? Consider the pacing, the importance of the information, and how it fits into the overall narrative.

Beta Readers and Feedback: When you're getting feedback on your work, pay attention to how readers respond to different sections. If they're engaged and understanding the story, then your balance of showing and telling is probably working well, regardless of which technique you're using more.

Study Your Favorite Authors: Take some time to analyze how your favorite writers use showing and telling. You might be surprised to find more instances of effective telling than you expected.

Practice Both Techniques (Important): Set aside some time to practice both showing and telling. Write the same scene twice, once focusing on showing and once on telling. This can help you develop a feel for when each technique is most effective.

Now, let's address another important point: the evolution of writing styles and reader preferences. The "show, don't tell" rule gained popularity in the early 20th century with the rise of modernist literature. But writing styles and reader tastes have continued to evolve since then.

In our current fast-paced world, where people are often reading on devices and in shorter bursts, there's sometimes a preference for more direct, efficient storytelling. This doesn't mean that showing is out of style, but it does mean that there's often room for more telling than strict adherence to "show, don't tell" would allow.

Moreover, diverse voices in literature are challenging traditional Western writing norms, including the emphasis on showing over telling. Some cultures have strong storytelling traditions that lean more heavily on telling, and as the literary world becomes more inclusive, we're seeing a beautiful variety of styles that blend showing and telling in new and exciting ways.

This brings me to an important point: your voice matters. Your unique way of telling stories is valuable. Don't let rigid adherence to any writing rule, including "show, don't tell," stifle your natural voice or the story you want to tell.

Remember, rules in writing are more like guidelines. They're tools to help us improve our craft, not unbreakable laws. The most important rule is to engage your reader and tell your story effectively. If that means more telling than the conventional wisdom suggests, then so be it.

As I wrap up this discussion, I want to leave you with a challenge: In your next writing session, consciously use both showing and telling. Pay attention to how each technique feels, how it serves your story, and how it affects the rhythm of your writing. You might discover new ways to blend these techniques that work perfectly for your unique style.

Writing is an art, not a science. There's no perfect formula, no one-size-fits-all approach. It's about finding what works for you, your story, and your readers. So embrace both showing and telling. Use them as the powerful tools they are, and don't be afraid to break the "rules" when your instincts tell you to.

Remember, every great writer started where you are now, learning the rules and then figuring out when and how to break them effectively. You're part of a long, proud tradition of storytellers, each finding their own path through the winding forest of words.

Keep writing, keep growing, and keep believing in yourself. You've got this!

Happy writing! 💖✍️ - Rin T.

Before you go, why not join us at The Write Right Society? We're a supportive Tumblr community where writers lift each other up. Whether you're a newbie or a pro, we'd love to have you! Share your work, get feedback, and connect with fellow wordsmiths, writers and aspiring authors. 

[felassan]

EuroGamer: 'BioWare knew the deepest secrets of Dragon Age lore 20 years ago, and locked it away in an uber-plot doc'

Original creator David Gaider on how "some of the big mysteries are being solved".

Rest of post under a cut due to length and possible spoilers.

"As I write about the secrets hidden in Dragon Age's mysterious Fade, and as I uncover some of them playing Dragon Age: The Veilguard, one question keeps rising up in my mind. How much did BioWare know about future events when first developing the series more than 20 years ago? That's a long time, and back then BioWare didn't know there would be a second game, which is why Dragon Age: Origins has an elaborate and far-reaching epilogue. Why lay so much lore-track ahead of yourself if you don't think you'll ever get there? But look more closely at Origins and there are big clues suggesting BioWare did know about future Dragon Age events. There are obvious signs in the original game, such as establishing recurring themes like Old Gods and the Blight and Archdemons. But there's also Flemeth, Morrigan's witchy mother, who's intimately linked to events in the series now - more specifically: intimately linked to Solas. Does her existence mean Solas was known about back then too? There's only one person I can think of to answer this and it's David Gaider, the original creator of Dragon Age's world and lore. We've talked before, once in a podcast and once for a piece on the magic of fantasy maps, where we discussed the creation of Dragon Age's world. And much to my surprise, when I ask him what he and the BioWare team knew back then, he says they knew it all. "By the time we released Dragon Age: Origins, we were basically sure that it was one and done, but there was, back when we made the world, an overarching plan," he says. "The way I created the world was to seed plots in various parts of the world that could be part of a game, a single game, and then there was the overall uber-plot, which I didn't know for certain that we would ever get to but I had an understanding of how it all worked together. "A lot of that was in my head until we were starting Inquisition and the writers got a little bit impatient with my memory or lack thereof, so they pinned me down and dragged the uber-plot out of me. I'd talked about it, I'd hinted at it, but never really spelled out how it all connected, so they dragged it out of me, we put it into a master lore doc, the secret lore, which we had to hide from most of the team.""

"This uber-plot document was only viewable on a need-to-know basis, he says, and only around 20 people on the team had access to it - other senior writers mostly. And even though Gaider left the Dragon Age team after Inquisition, and then eight years ago BioWare altogether, meaning he didn't work on The Veilguard at all, he believes - by looking at the events in the new game - his uber-plot lore "has more or less held up". That's impressive. What's even more impressive, or exciting, is that back then he also envisaged a potential end state for the entire Dragon Age series - a point at which it would make no sense for the series to carry on. "I always had this dream of where it would all end, the very last plot," he says, "which I won't say because who knows, we could still end up there. But the idea that this uber-plot was this sort of biggest, finite... That the final thing you could do in this world that would break it was there as a 'maybe we would get to do that one day'... There was just the idea of certain big, world-shaking things that were seeded in that arc, some of which have already come to pass, like the return of Fen'Harel." You've read that correctly: the idea to have Fen'Harel, also known as the Dread Wolf, reappear, was seeded all the way back then, way before Inquisition - the game in which he does actually reappear. But the concept for Solas, as a character who was Fen'Harel in disguise, was a newer idea. "That spawned from a conversation I had with Patrick [Weekes] and a number of other writers," Gaider says, "as an idea of 'what if you had a villain that spent an entire game where he's actually in the party and you get to know him?' Now, the god version and his larger role in the plot, yes that was known, but not that he would be presented as a character named Solas." Fen'Harel being known about means the other elven gods were known about, which means all of that stuff Solas reveals about his godly siblings - that they're not gods at all but evil elven mages he locked away behind the Veil - was known about back then too. "Oh yeah," Gaider says. "Everything that Solas tells you [at the end of Inquisition DLC, Trespasser]: it's all part of that original uber-lore - that was all in our mind." But why have so much lore if you're not certain you'll get to ever realise it? Well, to create a believable illusion. By creating an "excess" of lore, as Gaider describes it, Origins made Thedas feel like an old and believable place. A place with history, rather than a Western set that was all facade and no substance."

"BioWare also did something canny with the lore it did relay then, too: it shared it through the voices of characters living in the world, making it inherently fallible. In doing this, Dragon Age veiled its truths behind biases. The church-like organisation of the Chantry proclaims one truth, while the elves and dwarves proclaim another. Sidenote: you can experience this yourself through different racial origin stories in Dragon Age: Origins. This way, there's no one, objective, irrefutable, truth. "To get the truth, you kind of have to pick between the lines," Gaider says. So even though elven legends are coming true through the existence of Solas and The Veilguard's antagonist gods, it doesn't mean that's the one and only truth. There's truth in what the Chantry teaches and what the dwarves say, he tells me, which ignites my curiosity intensely. BioWare has also been tricksy in how it's rubbed out the lore the further back in time you go. "In general, the further the history goes back, we always would purposefully obfuscate it more and more," Gaider says - "make it more biased and more untrue no matter who was talking, just so that the absolute truth was rarely knowable. I like that idea from a world standpoint, that the player always has to wonder and bring their own beliefs to it." It leads into a founding principle of Dragon Age, which is doubt - because without it, you can't have faith, a particularly important concept in the series. It's where the whole idea of the Chantry's Maker comes from and with it, the legend about the fabled Golden City - now the Black City - at the heart of the Fade. This is the very centre of the lore web, and, I imagine, it's close to the series endpoint Gaider imagined long ago. All secrets end there. Did Gaider know what was in the Black City when he laid down Origins' lore? That's the question - and it startles me how casually he answers this. "Oh, yeah," he says. "What was in the Black City: that's the uber-plot. I knew exactly. "Was it as detailed in the first draft of the world?" he goes on. "No. I had an idea of the early history because that's where I started making the world. So the things that were true early-early: I knew exactly what the Black City was and the idea of what the elves believed, and what humans believed vis-a-vis the Chantry - that was all settled on really early. Then I expanded the world and the uber-plot bubbled out of that.""

"Gaider shows me the original cosmology design document for Dragon Age: Origins as if to prove this - or rather for the game that would become DAO. The world was known as Peldea back then. I can't share this with you because I see it via a shared screen on a video call, and because Gaider doesn't want me to, mostly because the ideas are so old they're almost unrecognisable from what's in the series now. But I can tell you it's a document that's just over a page in length, and that there's a circular diagram at the top showing the world in the middle and the spirit realm ringed around it. And on that document is reference to the Chantry's beliefs about a God located in a citadel that can be found there. Gaider says BioWare knew about Fen'Harel (the Dread Wolf) 20 years ago when it was developing Dragon Age: Origins, and that he'd one day reappear. The Fade wasn't known as the Fade back then, either, but as the Dreaming, because it's the place people go when they dream - an idea that lives on still. And if that sounds familiar to any fans of The Sandman among you, it should. "I'd say The Sandman series was probably fairly prominently in my head," says Gaider. "I liked that amorphous geography that was born from the psyche of collective humanity. I'd say yes, if I was to point at something specifically, that's probably where the very first inspiration of it took root." It's a lot to take in, but it reinforces the admiration I have for Dragon Age. Just as I have when hearing about the creation of my other favourite fantasy worlds, such as A Song of Ice and Fire, I begin to understand the magnitude - and the deliberateness - of the plotting that went on. I wonder if one day the Dragon Age series will end in the way Gaider first imagined, albeit slightly altered by the many other pairs of hands shepherding it along now. What a curious feeling it must be to know, so many years in advance, where things might go. Where that end is, I don't know, but I do know we'll take a significant step towards it in The Veilguard. After all, we're coming into contact with gods who were there at the recorded beginning of it all. "Yeah - we have access to people who can tell us the truth from first-hand experience," Gaider says, "although again, it depends on what the writers did with it. But if they continued the tradition of Dragon Age, you never know for sure if Solas is telling you everything, or what you're learning is the entire truth. "But yes, some of the big mysteries are being solved. I mean, will they one day definitively tell you about the Maker? Will we crack the big mysteries of the world and just make them answered finally? And does that ruin one of the central precepts that Dragon Age is founded upon? Maybe," he says. "Ultimately, that lore, when you make it big and you hint at it and hint at it and hint at it, it becomes a Chekhov's Gun of sorts. Eventually you got to pony up.""

[source]

[snowfall-jess]

Sylus comforting you when you suddenly burst out crying

Word count: 496

Spoilers for Honkai Star Rail 3.2 story quest lol - also not proofread so pls excuse any mistakes aaaa

Critique is always welcomed btw! I wanna get better at writing <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It started out as a normal chat. Granted, you were seated in Sylus’ lap but it was your day off. Dressed in comfortable clothes, you were chatting away with Sylus as he kept you close. His hand on your waist and the other supporting his head as he watched you ramble with a slight smirk.

His red eyes sparkled as he watched you talk. Each word you said music to his ears as he responded with soft hums and quips to let you know he was listening.

“- And with that it was revealed that the Trailblazer was actually dead.” You said, your hands moving as you talked and explained your current favorite game to Sylus.

“Oh?” Sylus hummed, his brow arching as his thumb rubbed circles on your hip. “That must have been quite the surprise, kitten.” He said, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

“Yeah! I feel like it could have been elaborated more since it was really only mentioned in one line from Dan Heng and the surrounding characters.” You sigh, shaking your head. Parting your lips to speak, you pause.

Then, there was a sudden tightness in your throat and there was a sudden heat in your eyes. With a soft gasp from you, Sylus immediately was on alert. His form straightened in the chair as he gripped your waist a bit tighter.

“Kitten?” Sylus cautiously asked, his voice soft and gentle. But that was all it took as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. A soft whimper left your lips as your eyes met Sylus’ red ones.

“I-I'm sorry,” You hiccuped, trying to wipe your tears away. “I don't know why I'm crying.” Your voice was shaky, your body starting to tremble as your body was hit with the heavy emotions that felt like everything and nothing at the same time.

Sylus was quick to softly shush you. His hand moved to cradle your head and to tuck you under his chin as he tightened his grip. “Shhh, it's alright, sweetie.” He cooed, starting to rock you a little.

“It's alright that you don't know.” Sylus said, his voice a gentle rumble in your ear as he combed his fingers through your hair. “Cry it out, sweetheart. I'm right here.” He said, his voice soft.

“I'm not going anywhere. It's okay to just cry.” He said, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “I'll hold you for as long as you need me to.” Sylus vowed, gently nudging his head against yours.

His grip tightened, his eyes closing as he rocked you. Listening to your soft whimpers and sobs, letting you cry as he pressed gentle kisses to your face and head, gently rocking you until you calmed down.

But even then, he kept his vow. Holding you close and secure in his arms. Keeping you present with his kisses and gentle words. And silently in his mind, he vowed that he will never let you go through this alone ever again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A/N

I didn't know how to end this lol. But I have been having these moments where I really want Sylus to hold me and I know I'd start sobbing like a baby so this is very self indulgent lol. Am I okay? I dont know! :D I just know I need a good hug and to cry lol

[kp-alice]

Prove Her Wrong

Summary: Yunho knew that what that stranger had said to him back then wasn't true. He quite literally had physical evidence to prove it. And yet, he couldn't help but think about her comment a little too often.

AKA a well-endowed-and-very-desperate!sub!Yunho x bored!dom!f!reader

Word count: 3 820

Warnings: small-dick humiliation, roleplaying (reader pretends to be bored and unsatisfied), degradation (but no name-calling), mid-scene checking in, just another case of me writing about pathetic Yunho because I can't help myself and definitely have issues

A/N: This fic is the third part of my sub!Yunho Kinktober 2024! The event's masterlist can be found here.

"...and then she told me 'I have no right to act like an overcompensating asshole just because my dick is small'."

"Ouch," you hissed empathetically. "Yeah, I can definitely see how that would hurt for a while, even if she was totally wrong."

"That's uh, that's the thing," Yunho retorted nervously, shifting in his spot, "I kinda, well, liked it? I guess? Like- not because of her saying it, but because of what she said, you know?"

The silence between the two of you stretched to an uncomfortable degree, making Yunho chuckle nervously. "It's not too weird, is it?"

"Hmm, no, it's definitely weird," you concluded at last, eyebrows furrowed.

"...But I'd love to learn more about it."

"Wait," you said, sitting up straight on the couch, "so I'm supposed to have sex with you, but like, act like your dick is small and it's not doing anything for me?"

Yunho's blush deepened at your words, curling into himself even further. "I mean, when you put it like that, it does sound really weird, I'm sorry."

"No, honey," you said, leaning over to place a comforting hand on his thigh, "I wasn't saying it to make fun of you, I just want to make sure I understand it all correctly so that I don't mess up when we eventually try it."

"We seriously don't have to, though," Yunho opposed, starting to backtrack now that the nerves had caught up to him again. "It really is quite odd, and the last thing I want to do is push your boundaries just to please me and my weird kinks."

You sighed. This wasn't the first time Yunho had gotten like this when it came to talking about his needs and wants. No matter how many times you'd try to reassure him that it's fine to ask for things, it always took just a short moment of uncertainty for him to begin retracting back into his shell. "Yu, I've already told you that I'm completely fine with trying it. Sure, it's not something I'd personally bring up, but I'm not opposed to it either. Who knows, maybe I'll also end up liking it? Either way, I'm really not pushing myself to do anything, nor am I planning to do so. Just trust me, okay?"

"Okay," Yunho finally conceded, giving you a small smile. His hand found yours on his thigh, grasping it gently. "Thank you."

"Anytime, love," you smiled back, rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand. "Now, how about you elaborate on your little fantasy a bit more, hm? I need to know all of what I'm going to do to you."

A shiver ran down Yunho's spine at the words, visible excitement lighting up his eyes.

"Oh, we're going to be here a while."

After an open conversation or two with your boyfriend, you were finally ready to indulge him.

Yunho didn't want to set a specific date, though, feeling as though it would make the scene too staged and unnatural. So, instead, the two of you decided to just wait and use a non-verbal signal. If Yunho were to initiate sex while wearing a specific small blue bracelet, it was your sign to start the play if you felt up for it.

There were a couple false alarms of sorts, where Yunho would wear the bracelet the whole day, but would never actually gather the courage to initiate. You knew this was something that might happen, and yet you couldn't help the small twinge of disappointment whenever you went to bed with nothing from his side. You also suspect he might have worn it at least once just to tease you, but you didn't dare ask.

Then, it was your turn to decline a couple times. It wasn't payback for Yunho's nervousness in any way, obviously. It just so happened that the first two times when he'd tried to finally initiate, you were either not in the mood in general, or were up for something more soft and loving. And just as you had with him before, Yunho also completely understood your preferences, boundaries, and pace.

But then, one fateful night, things were finally put into motion.

You were lounging on the couch, watching TV while mindlessly scrolling on your phone. Yunho wasn't home yet, having to stay at work longer than expected today. You wouldn't have to wait much more, however, as you heard the front door opening just a few moments later.

Already from the sound of his heavy footsteps trudging down the hallway, you could tell he was tired. Then, a small thud resonated through the living room, making you sit up and look behind you.

There, Yunho slouched against the doorway, pouty and puppy-eyed. His hair was disheveled, likely from running his hands through it countless times from all the extra stress today.

"Hey there, love," you said warmly, turning his pout into a small smile.

"Hey," he replied sluggishly before pushing himself upright again to take off his jacket.

Which, to your surprise, revealed the blue bracelet.

If Yunho noticed the interested twinkle in your eyes, he didn't show it. Instead, he turned around, walking back to the front door to hang his jacket up next to yours. Afterwards, he wordlessly disappeared into the bathroom, likely to freshen up a bit after the awfully long day.

"Are you hungry?" You asked, watching him walk back into the room a few minutes later. "There's some leftovers from dinner if you want."

Yunho just hummed in disagreement, the pout from before returning to his lips. "'m not hungry."

"What can I do for you, then? What do you need?" You questioned further, scooting back to give him some room to sit down.

To your surprise (not really), he ignored the space you'd made for him, choosing to dive right into your arms instead. You huffed as he lay down on top of you, burying his face in your chest and wrapping his arms around you.

"You," he finally muttered, squeezing you just a bit tighter in his hold.

"Me? What do you mean?" You asked back, pretending like you couldn't already feel the slightest pressure against your thigh. Did he really rile himself up just thinking about his fantasy on the way home?

"Babe, please," he pleaded, an embarrassed whine to his voice, "you know what I mean."

Usually, you'd be satisfied with just a bit of teasing. A moment of playfulness before you'd get to the main event. But today? Today you wanted- no, needed, to truly savor the moment, both for your and Yunho's sake.

"I really don't, honey," you feigned ignorance, running your fingers through his hair with a mischievous smile on your face. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to tell me yourself."

And judging by the deep red visible on his cheeks even with his face hidden, you knew it was working for him as well.

"I just- I really need you right now," Yunho said, voice already wavering from the delicious anxiousness of being so small before you. "Y-you know, like, to be... inside you."

You chuckled at that, jostling your boyfriend's head a bit with the movement. "Ah, of course. It hasn't even been two days since you've last gotten off and you already wanna go again, huh?"

Yunho just meekly nodded, trying to bury his head further into you.

"I mean, I don't blame you, honey, but what's in it for me?"

Your question wasn't too direct just yet, still giving him some leeway to stop in case he felt uncomfortable or not ready.

But, much to your amusement, Yunho made no such attempt.

"Oh! W-well, I'll make you feel good too, obviously!" He promised, lifting his head up to look at you with hopeful eyes. "I always do."

You let out a loud laugh at that, making his face twist in confusion. "What?! You can't be serious right now."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Yunho asked in a shaky, uncertain voice, but the twitch against your thigh betrayed his real feelings.

"You seriously think fucking that small dick of yours is doing anything for me?" You ridiculed him, eyes wide in disbelief. "Why do you think I always ask you to eat me out after you're done? Even that tongue of yours feels bigger in me."

Truth be told, it wasn't you who usually asked for oral. Whether during, before, or after having "proper" sex, it was mainly Yunho who'd turn to you with hopeful eyes and an eager smile. But there's nothing wrong with a bit of fact-twisting for the sake of roleplay, right?

Your slight uncertainty was immediately solved with a choked moan from Yunho, along with a stuttered thrust against your leg. You could feel all of him through his pants now, dragging up and down your thigh with just enough pressure.

"P-please, babe," Yunho began again, gaze blurring into something more distant yet content. "I'll do anything to please you afterwards, but I'm so hard I don't think I can wait any longer."

"Wait," you said in fake awe, "you're hard right now? I can't even feel you against me! Are you sure you can actually stay inside with that?"

"Fuck," Yunho whimpered at your words, brows tightly knit together, "you're way too good at this."

You chuckled at his admission, breaking your mocking persona for a moment. "I'm glad you think so, hun." Lifting a hand to caress his cheek, you made him look into your eyes. "You're still okay with all of this, right?"

Yunho immediately nodded at your question, eager to reassure you. "Yes, please. This is better than anything I've ever imagined."

Feeling an almost embarrassing level of pride at the praise, you resumed your role with newfound excitement.

"You know what?" You spoke up again, challenging him with your unwavering stare. "I'll let you have your fun."

Yunho didn't need anything beyond that, diving into the crook of your neck the second you finished your sentence. You couldn't help the gasp leaving your lips at the sensation, Yunho's precision at finding your sweet spot catching you way too off-guard.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Yunho muttered lovingly, letting his hands roam free alongside your curves while he rutted against your thigh again.

His movements were halted, however, when a sharp sting shot up his scalp from where your fingers tugged at his hair, pulling him away from your neck.

"But," you continued, suppressing a mean smile, "you have to make me cum first, since you're so confident in your abilities."

You could see all the eagerness fall from Yunho's face and morph into a look of nervousness and uncertainty. Normally, Yunho would have no problem making you cum whichever way you wanted, but now, he knew it wouldn't be so easy. Your eyes screamed determination, excited to see him slip up and embarrass himself even further.

"I- I, uh- yeah! Sure, of course," Yunho finally replied, though the confident facade he tried to put on broke rather quickly.

You sighed, feigning complete disinterest as if you already knew what the outcome would be anyway. "Fine, go ahead then. Let's see how much magic you can conjure up with that tiny dick."

The two seconds of silence that followed after your sentence were broken by a chuckle from Yunho, making you join in as well.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I know that was supposed to be hot - and it was, but it was also pretty funny."

"Shut up," you retorted, annoyed, though you couldn't hide your own amusement. Fighting back the shy blush on your cheeks, you continued, "and get back to work. You have a lot to prove right now."

"Yes, ma'am," Yunho muttered, re-focusing on the task at hand. He crawled backwards on the couch, giving him just enough space to take off your sweatpants and underwear, ignoring the damp spot in the middle. Seems like he wasn't the only one enjoying this.

He then removed his own pants and boxers, making you scoff. "Are you seriously so horny you can't even take off my shirt as well? You're so pathetic."

Yunho whined at the delicious sting of your words, crawling back up to settle between your legs. Just as he'd told you, he was already rock hard, pent-up from daydreaming about this exact scenario the whole day. Today was going to be the day, he just knew it. And now that it was actually happening, not to mention how you seemed to like it as well? He was almost shaking with excitement.

"Don't even bother with prep," you said unenthusiastically, reaching over to the coffee table to grab your phone again. "There's no need to prepare for something that small."

Yunho's movements stuttered for a second at your words, unsure of how to proceed. You usually liked it when he'd take his time and warm you up to his size, but now you were telling him to just skip it and go right to the main event. Well, guess he's going to have to trust your judgment.

"It's not even that small," Yunho tried to argue, fumbling with his erection to line himself up properly, "just wait, I'll show you how good I can make you feel."

You looked up from the phone in your hand (you couldn't really focus on anything on there, but pretended to be distracted anyways in the name of your role-playing session), trying to seem as unbothered as possible. "Yeah, yeah, all that big talk just to-"

Your words got caught in your throat as he finally began pushing in. You knew it was going to be a bit of a stretch, but those expectations were exceeded anyways. Taking a deep breath, you tried to relax as much as possible. As the resistance from your muscles began to fade, so did Yunho begin to breach even deeper.

"You good?" Yunho tentatively asked, visibly affected himself.

Unable to form words at the moment, you just nodded as confidently as you could.

After a few more tense seconds, Yunho was finally fully sheathed inside of you. He stayed like that for a while, looking into your eyes for a sign to start moving.

"So? How does it feel?" He asked, a playful smile on his lips at the way you were biting your bottom lip with furrowed brows.

As always, Yunho just couldn't help but be a brat and keep challenging your authority at the most random of times.

But, of course, you were having none of that.

Fighting back a wicked smile, you feigned confusion instead.

"What do you mean?" You asked, trying to sound as genuine as possible. "I'm still waiting for you to put it in."

It was almost impossible not to burst out laughing at the flustered look on Yunho's face. His eyes widened, flitting between your seemingly innocent face and down where you were already connected. "But- but I-"

"But what?" You challenged again, that annoyed edge to your tone from before returning. "Too scared to go through with it now? Just admit I'm right and save yourself the humiliation, seriously."

Yunho shook his head, the blush on his face spreading down to his neck and chest. "No, that's not- I mean, I- I'm already-"

"Already what? Not hard anymore? Got so anxious that that poor excuse of a dick fell asleep again? Not that it makes much of a difference, really."

Yunho's bottom lip trembled as he squeezed his eyes, stomach churning as the humiliation seeped even further in. It felt so awful to the point it felt exhilarating. He wanted to believe you couldn't feel him incessantly throbbing within you, but he was smarter than that.

"That's not what I meant!" He cried out, voice wobbling from the tightness in his chest. "I'm just- It's already in, okay?!"

A deafening silence filled the room, making Yunho want to curl up on himself. All of your attention was on him right now, boring into him with an intense, unreadable gaze.

And then you began laughing.

"Oh my god," you wheezed incredulously, gasping for air. Your body shook with your breaths, unintentionally squeezing around Yunho as well.

It was confusing, feeling the mix of incredible arousal along with insane shame. Yunho could feel his stomach tighten to the point of almost hurting, and yet it felt so good.

"Are you crying?" You gasped, marveling at the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over at any second. "You were so overconfident about that tiny dick of yours and look where it got you now. Crying because you can't even please a woman right. You're incredible."

That was the final straw.

Sobs echoed around the room as Yunho finally broke, letting the tears flow freely as he gave in to the humiliation. His arms gave out under him as he fell into your embrace again, wetting the pillow under you as he hid his face into it. He trembled in your hold in almost complete silence, safe for the occasional sniffles and an almost inaudible "fuck" whimpered into the cushion.

"You okay?" You whispered, tangling a hand into his hair to pet it softly.

Yunho quickly nodded in your hold before shuffling his head down into the crook of your neck again. "I'm gonna cum, oh my god."

You smiled fondly at his words, using his obstructed vision to relax your stern expression for just a second. "Aw, is that it? You've barely even put it in - or at least you say you did - and you're already gonna cum? What happened to our deal, huh? Are you that desperate you can't even wait for me to get off first?"

Just as expected, your words seemed to rile him up even further. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he said in a strained voice. His hips began rutting against yours with zero rhythm, focused on chasing the pleasure your body and words had brought him. "I'm so pathetic I can't help it, please!"

You rolled your eyes, but the clenching of your own muscles around him betrayed your true thoughts on the situation. "Ugh, fine. Not like I expected anything better anyways. Just clean up after yourself when you're done, and maybe I'll let you make me cum after."

Yunho grinned down at you, wet cheeks shining in the light. "Thank you, oh god, thank you!"

You gasped as his pace quickened, rocking you up and down on the couch under him. Yunho's face showed nothing but absolute bliss, eyebrows furrowing and mouth hanging open as he got lost in the feeling of you.

"Fuck- I love you, I love you so much," Yunho suddenly groaned out, head hanging low as he tried to keep up with himself, "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, I swear."

You chuckled at the confession, trying to keep your breathing somewhat steady yourself. "Just because I told you your dick is small? That's not difficult criteria to meet, don't you- ah! Don't you think?"

Yunho just moaned in response, head too stuffy to form proper responses anymore. However, the increasing pleasure coursing through him felt so overwhelming to the point he had to at least say something, and so he resorted to that which he knew best.

"Love you, love you so much, 'so good to me, treat me so well all the time," he rambled on and on, hiding his face in the crook of your neck before lifting his head up to breathe properly, only to then drop back down again. "You feel so- fuck! So good, I love you! Please, can I come? Please, I need to-"

"Come, honey," you spoke in a hushed yet clear voice, slipping your hands underneath his shirt to press him closer to your chest. "Did so well today, took everything I gave you and then some."

Yunho let out another sob at your words, overwhelmed with both the warmth of your body and your words. Clutching your hips and waist tight enough to bruise, he pushed into you two, three times before finally stilling inside of you. His back tensed as the endorphins hit him all at once, even clouding his vision for a moment.

You held your lover close as he slowly came down from his high, holding onto you for dear life. Your hands rubbed soothing circles into his back.

Just when you were starting to think he'd fallen asleep, Yunho spoke up again.

"Well, that was insane."

You chuckled, making him raise his head up to look at you. "In a good way or in a bad way?"

Quirking an eyebrow, he nodded down to your half-naked bodies, still connected together in the middle. "What do you think?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," you conceded. "I was just scared of accidentally hurting your feelings in the process, so I needed to ask for my own peace of mind."

"You could never hurt me with anything you'd said today," Yunho reassured you, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek. "Besides," he grinned, "like you said, I have quite a lot of evidence to prove none of what you told me is true."

That earned him an outraged slap on his arm, making him giggle mischievously. Nevertheless, it left the both of you smiling stupidly anyways.

"...Anyways, I have a favor to repay, don't I?" He asked in a husky voice, supporting himself against the couch cushions as he rose back up.

"Ah, you don't really have to," you replied shyly, suddenly reminded of the compromising position you were stuck in in front of him. "I mostly just said that as part of the scene, we can just go clean up in the shower like we usually do."

It was already too late, though, as Yunho began to slowly pull out of you, dropping down on his stomach right after to make sure you didn't make a mess on the couch.

"No, no, you were right," he disagreed, flashing you a devious smile as he disappeared between your legs.

"You already did your part, now let me do mine."

taglist: @justconniez @domribo @another-random-fanfic-blog

Thank you for reading! And remember, feedback is always very appreciated! <3

[barblaz-arts]

Hey, I was reading one of you're post and you said that you love Charlie as a protagonist. Can you elaborate why that is?

I've just always loved sweet-hearted protagonists. Steven Universe, Aang, Luz Noceda, you name it. It might be a cliche, but I'll always be a sucker for the optimistic protag who kills with kindness. They may not be realistic in some ways, because it's so much easier to remember all the shitty people out there, but truly kind people do exist and they are so strong for choosing to be kind and I love to see protagonists who have the strength to stay kind and extend that kindness to others despite all the shit the plot throws at them.

I already mentioned in that previous ask the reason why I like Charlie in particular a lot:

"... I think Emily is too sweet for Vaggie in a way that even Charlie isn't. Like, obviously Charlie's got a kind heart, but her demonic nature and her general hard-headedness and explosive temper are all things that separate her from Emily and other typical non-Exorcist angels that I can see is what really pulls Vaggie to her"

Ok so let me just elaborate on this a bit.

There's a lot of surface level reasons why I love Charlie. Her design is adorbs. Her archetype (ray of sunshine with a sad family background) is one of my favorites. Her VA is someone I've liked in a previous project(Mean Girls The Musical) and her performance as Charlie whether she's speaking or singing is just impressive and incredibly charming.

If we wanna dig deeper, I like her for the same reason I like characters like Enid Sinclair from Netflix's Wednesday; she's an amalgamation of contradictions that somehow works.

So just a quick disclaimer: I still don't think the writing for this show is "smart" nor do I think I will ever feel this way. But I do have to say that what I do like about this show is that characters were written with a lot of love, and despite the majority of the fans' claims that the creator and writers somehow dont give a shit about their main character(*cough*PROJECTION*cough) I think a lot of care and thought was put into Charlie as a character. Not a lot of WISE decisions necessarily, but the thought was there.

So if you were to ask people to describe Charlie with a few words, words that would probably come up are stuff like Happy or Energetic or Determined or Righteous or Gay or whatever. I would think those too. But other words I'd use to describe her are Stubborn and Temperamental and Prideful and REBELLIOUS, that last one being the most I think about when it comes to her.

It comes back to me seeing her as a walking contradiction. Charlie's always one thing that defies what you'd think she's supposed to be. She's a demon but she's kind. She's patient but she's irritable. She's a pushover but she's stubborn. She's no good in a fight but she has a lot of raw power. There's more to her than meets the eye and one of my favorite things about her that a lot of people may overlook is that despite the fact that she's a sweetheart is that she's rebellious and isn't afraid of standing up against authority.

Nurture-wise, being royalty very likely helped cultivate her hard-headed rebellious phase. She had a snarky emo phase for goodness sake. That spoiled rich girl definitely gave the king and queen of hell a hard time during puberty. Fortunately, she grew up to use that hard-headedness for a good cause. She's not afraid to stare down a goddamn Seraphim and tell her off on her hypocrisy because she's probably done the same to Lucifer when she was still prepubescent.

Nature-wise, the rebel in her comes from her parents, of course. Lucifer was a troublemaker who constantly tried to break away from Heaven's rigid system, while Lilith was a Strong Independent Woman who would rather leave Paradise than be objectified by the husband she didn't even choose. Freewill is a huge thing for Lucifer and Lilith, and because of this Charlie is also strong-willed, determined to do what she wants to do, even if it means getting ridiculed and disrespected for it.

Also. Don't you just love when the sweet character has another side to them that awakens when people they care about is hurt or when injustice happens? Righteous anger paired with a super power just never fails to be super cool. If you wanna know more about my thoughts regarding Charlie's temper, you can read it here

So yeah. I love Charlie a whole lot. She's cute, she's hot, she's kind, and she's cool. The whole shebang. There's a lot about her to dissect and I'm sad that people dont see that and constantly write her off as JUST the naive optimist because she's so much more than that.

[golden-ebony]

Man Eater (1) 𓆩♡𓆪

♡ Series Masterlist ♡

♡ Pairing: Logan Howlett/Fem!Vigilante!Reader

♡ Word Count: 4.4k

♡ Rating: Mature (but any additional parts may be explicit)

♡ Warning/Tags: suggestions of child/adult abuse (no detail), mentions of violence (little detail), mutant/vigilante reader, suggestive language, Logan being a lil flirty menace (i love it)

♡ Summary: Leaving your past behind is never easy; teasing Logan makes it tolerable

♡ Note: reader has the same power as Diego from Umbrella Academy which I just summarized as projectile manipulation. also! this is a plotline i've fiddled with for years across different marvel characters and i finally found a way to make it work! i'd expect more parts because it'd looovvvve to tease Logan

Logan stood out of apartment 404 of a modern apartment building. Given the fact that Charles told him to come here to retrieve what he had described as a vigilante who could use some guidance. Yet, he was surprised to see such a dangerous person living in such a swanky place. It was none of his business, he thought.

He pounded on the door. No one answered. He groaned, pounding the door again, “Hey! Anyone home?” He heard the slightest of footsteps before hearing a voice.

“I’d be careful about pounding on a stranger's door,” you called back in a short tone. A woman, Logan thought.

“Oh, why’s that?” Logan scoffed, folding his arms over his chest.

You cocked your shotgun loudly enough for Logan to hear. You aimed it toward the door, “You never know where you might find trouble.”

Logan lowly chuckled to himself. He went to open the door; to his surprise, it was unlocked. He slowly pushed it open. There stood you, a double-barrel shotgun aimed toward Logan’s head. “Trouble, yeah?”

He glanced at you, not intimidated by the shotgun as he didn’t even attempt to move from the line of fire. You didn’t back down, still aiming the gun at his head, “Not scared of a little lead between your eyes?”

Logan closed the door, assuming you didn’t want your fancy neighbors seeing you about to gun down a man. Couldn’t bear to splatter his brains onto the community hallway. “Lead? Nah, I’ve dealt with a lot worse.” he smirked, casually leaning against the door.

Your eyes narrowed in his direction; no one came to your door. Ever. You took a deep breath, tilting your head in curiosity with the man in front of you. It was never your intention to know him, but you did. You slightly lowered the gun, “You're like me.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Depends. What’cha mean by that?”

“I mean what I mean.”

He sighed, his breath dripping with annoyance, “Kid, I don’t do riddles. Spit it out before you piss me off.”

“You, Logan, are a mutant,” you spat while completely lowering your gun further. You knew you didn’t have the firepower to take him down. “The Wolverine.” Your voice was song-like as you teased him with an eye roll.

He was surprised by your blunt answer; he was even more surprised by the fact that you knew what—who he was without any additional prompts. He chuckled in mild disbelief, “What? You a telepath or something?”

You chuckled, crossing your arms over your chest, “No…but Stryker used to talk about you allll the time,” you teased, striking a deep nerve in Logan.

His fists clenched as he stood up straighter. He appeared defensive as if this was all an elaborate set up by Stryker somehow. If it wasn’t Charles that had sent him, he would have let his mind go there. Yet, it didn’t feel like Charles sending him to this apartment was a coincidence either. Still, looking at you, you looked too young to be around when Stryker was at his peak.

“You know Stryker? How old are you?” By his demanding tone, you knew Logan wasn’t messing around anymore.

You leaned against the arm of the couch, “The only thing Stryker loved more than having mutants do his bidding was perfecting his soldiers,” you bit the inside of your cheek to maintain your composure, “but you? Ohh, you were his favorite. You broke the mold and all he wanted to do was put that perfect mold back together.” You spoke with a disdain that Logan couldn’t figure if it was directed towards Stryker or him. His gut was telling him both.

“I was only sixteen when Styker found me. He called me his best gun.”

That piqued his interest, “Why’s that?”

As Logan finished his sentence, you threw a spear point knife in Logan’s direction. Before he had a chance to react, the knife banked left into a wooden board hanging on the wall. Logan approached the small board, seeing the multiple knife marks wedged into it. It was out of place compared to the pricier art work that adorned the walls. He huffed turning back to you.

“You control metal, too?” he snarked, hoping Charles didn’t send him to find the second coming of Erik.

“Projectile manipulation—knives, bullets, really anything that’s airborne,” you explained. “But that isn’t enough for Stryker…I can’t explain how he did it, but he was hellbent on making me practically immortal…kinda like you. It took him a couple of years. The trials were…” your voice drifted off as the pang of dread filled your chest. 

Logan felt for you, imagining you at sixteen under the oppressive thumb of Stryker. Your eyes wavered from his for the first time. Although Logan was probably one of the few people left in the world that he had any clue what you had been through—the things you were probably made to do—you didn't appear to want his sympathy.

“But you’re out,” Logan stated, trying to offer some semblance of perspective, “Obviously doing your own thing—things Stryker never would have approved of.”

“That’s because I killed him when I escaped.”

Your words heavily weighed on him. He had been looking for Stryker on his own for a while. He raced down every lead on his own time—pulled every thread, turned over every stone. He just assumed that Stryker was alive somewhere underground.

Though shocked, he was impressed, “So you weren’t just a lab rat, you had some fire in you, huh?”

Slowly approaching Logan, your stare was intense. “Unlike you, I had the balls to do something about Stryker instead of just leaving,” you spat.

Logan’s jaw clenched. His patience became thin as he took a step toward you as well, making you well aware of your size difference. “You don’t know me, sweetheart. I don’t have to explain myself to you, so don’t you go around acting all holier than thou.” Truthfully, it did cross Logan’s mind. He hadn’t seen Stryker in decades. But if he had ended him when he had left, how many lives would be unchanged? Looking at you now hearing the hurt in your voice, he was face-to-face with his unconfirmed yet biggest regret. “You’ve got no goddamn idea what I’ve been through!”His tone was gruff and curt.

Like a slap, you chuckled at his remarks. “Right, sixteen year old female lab rat? Gotta be a walk in the park,” you muttered under your breath. Logan’s imagination didn’t have to stretch far to figure what you had gone through, not just in the field but in the lab, too. You roughly brushed past him and pulled your knife out of the wall, securing it in the sleeve, “But you didn’t pound on my door to talk about Stryker, did you?”

Logan dug his hands into his pockets as you walked back into his view, “I came to talk about what you did—what you do. Your little ‘heroics’ as a vigilante.”

You hummed, “And?”

“They’ve been noticed.” He took out a flask before taking a swig of it. He glanced back to you. “I’m here to assess whether you’re a threat or not.”

“And the verdict?”

His eyes narrowed, analyzing you from head to toe. You assumed he was analyzing how many weapons you had on you. He pulled out his phone, showing you an array of photos.

They were photos of you from various nights with different dates with a variety of men. The police called them victims. You had more…colorful language to describe these men. In some photos, your hair was brown and short, black and long and so on. 

“They aren’t dead, you know,” you feigned innocence with an insincere pout and wide eyes.

The level of violence would suggest otherwise. “No, just close.”

You hummed before taking Logan’s flask, taking a drink from it. He didn’t stop you. “Then I’m sure you know what they did to deserve this, Wolvie.” He knew the general idea, but he looked at you for an answer. You swiped through the photos. Some of them were surveillance, others were crime scene photos. “Phil Stanford: beat his wife so badly that she lost her baby in the second trimester. Jones Hill: almost drowned his girlfriend’s child just to teach her a lesson. And these guys? They passed around their intern to each other like she was a piece of meat.”

You showed Logan each crime scene photo. You remembered every single one like you got the assignment yesterday, remembered the satisfaction of leaving the hotel rooms that they paid for. Awaiting his reprimand, you took another swig before giving it back.

“Look, sweetheart, I get it,” Logan admitted. You raised your brows in surprise, but now, the reason for this visit felt clear. “The Man Eater; it’s fitting.”

“I didn’t give myself that name.”

“It sticked though.”

“Why are you really here? Did Charles send you?” Your question, again, surprised Logan. Was there anything you didn’t already know, Logan thought as he took another drink.

“You know Charles, too, huh? How long?”

You shrugged, “Like 20 something years. He’s always trying to sell me on the whole family and team shit. I never bought it; I’m better on my own. Still, Charles was always good to me when our paths crossed.”

Logan noticed your body tense when you mentioned family. He understood though. “I thought the same thing a few years ago before Charles found me. I was wrong,” Logan admitted. You could tell that it took at least a little bit out of him to admit that; vulnerability was clearly not his forte. Logan just thought you were lying to yourself.

“Charles and I had an agreement where he’d never get in my mind again. But instead, he sends a Stryker experiment, like myself, not only for him to determine if I’m a threat to what I can only assume is how the public views mutants but also to remind me that I shouldn’t be going through life alone, right?”

There wasn’t much for him to say; you had said it all. Instead, he offered you his flask. He only nodded at your statement as you took the flask. You couldn’t say that you were surprised that Charles used this specific tactic. He definitely didn’t have to get into your mind to play mind games.

You took a final swig from the container, taking the last drop of the liquor, “Did you also send you to bring me to the mansion?”

“Charles said that you may not come willingly; I told him that I’d do what I can. Even if that was just to extend the invite.”

You chuckled to yourself, “You never truly escape the grasp of Charles Xavier.” You pulled a coat off the hook near Logan. “But I guess we’re due for a reunion. I’ll go with you…peacefully even.”

Logan grunted slightly. He had no plans of forcing or fighting with you, even before he met you. Though, he was curious how you’d fare in a fight. The photos indicated you were brutal, having the ability to leave someone on the brink of death. Yet, Logan doubted that any of these men saw it coming. Getting a look at you today, he was sure the men were just excited to be in the company of a beautiful woman. Like a siren, he was sure he could be lured by you.

“Good,” he muttered, as he watched you open your apartment door, trotting out of it.

You followed Logan outside, immediately eyeing the bike he was approaching, “That bike yours?”

He nodded, looking at the bike. He had left it in a nearby parking lot. It was a black and silver Harley Davidson motorcycle and a damn expensive one. He turned to look at you, “Yeah, you ever been on a motorcycle?”

”I’ve had a few Harleys in my lifetime,” you mentioned, your hand slowly grazing over the bike and the leather of the seats. “Went to Milwaukee and got one off the line back in the 90s.”

He lifted an eyebrow, looking mildly surprised. He hadn’t expected that. He slowly walked over the bike, getting ready to mount it. He looked back at you with a smirk, “So, you’re a Harley girl?”

You mounted the back, testing out the suspension, “Show me any bike and I’ll show a Harley that does it better.”

He laughed as he watched you get comfortable on his bike, “You think Harley’s better than a Triumph? Hell, you think Harley’s are better than a Ducati?” He mounted the bike and pulled out his key.

“Nothing’s beating American-made, baby,” you shrugged with a smile. You could tell how amused Logan as he shook his head “That’s why I got one in the garage and two in storage. A Street 750, LiveWire, and a Fat Boy.”

He slowly looked over his shoulder again to look at you, obviously impressed. You had good taste. “And you can handle all that, princess?”

“You’d be surprised what I can handle, Wolvie,” you lowly spoke, maintaining eye contact until he went to turn the engine. 

“Then you know the drill.” The engine added a layer of low rumble to his voice. “Hold on, sweetheart.”

You did as you were told, wrapping your arms around his brown leather jacket to connect around his waist. With it being cold out, you almost audibly sighed when you felt the warmth radiating off of him. It was combined with the slight scent of mahogany, pine, and smoke.

Logan kicked the stand up before speeding off. You held on a little tighter as he sped up and weaved through traffic. Logan felt pleased with himself as he felt you gripping him tighter. He weaved through traffic, unconcerned with the angry car drivers he was surely pissing off. You couldn’t sit there and say you hadn’t done the same, but Logan had no reason to be in this much of a rush. You believed that he just liked being an asshole.

Once out of the city, the roads to the mansion began looking familiar. More into the countryside, traffic lessened and Logan’s speeds picked up. As you approached, you could begin to feel the raindrops begin to fall from the sky. You looked up to see the clouds threatening to release a storm. Luckily, Logan was quick to pull into the garage of the mansion before it began to downpour. Logan pulled up to the garage, parking the bike and killing the engine. 

“You ride like an asshole,” you spat as you dismounted off the bike. 

Logan was amused with you snapping at him, “And if I waited in traffic, we would’ve got caught in that rain and it would've drench that little white tee of yours.” He let down the kickstand. A smirk formed across Logan’s lips as he turned back to see you still standing by the bike. His eyes clearly raked your body, “Actually, maybe I should’ve waited.”

You scoffed as you watched him dismound. “I’m assuming Charles is still in the room at the end of the hall on the top floor to the left?” You opted to just change the subject.

“You know this place well, don’t you?” Logan asked as he walked you out of the garage to the inside of  the mansion. 

It was exactly how you remembered it, “Well enough. I met Charles back when he wanted to make this place a school. Make it a safe haven for children like us, he’d say.” You thought it was fun pipe-dream at the time, believing there couldn’t be a safe space for mutants. He was obviously more optimistic than you ever were. “Some things have changed here, but it’s practically timeless.

Logan led you up the stairs, “So, you keep coming back, but you never stay.” 

“Like I said, I’m better alone.”

“Sure you are,” he muttered under his breath. You could still pick up on the sass in his voice. You shot him a glare. “You’re better alone, yet you jump at the chance to see the man who has been pestering you for years? You like him checking up on you? Showing you he cares?”

You didn’t immediately respond as you two walked the hallways. The sound of the rain  colliding with the roof filled the space instead. There weren’t many contant people in your life. When you first met Charles, he could tell he genuinely cared. He wouldn’t keep checking in if he didn’t care. You just weren’t sure if you had the capacity to care in that same way. It felt easier not to.

“It’s complicated,” you sighed as you approached Charles’s room.

“Not that complicated,” Logan mumbled before knocking on the door and pushing it open.

Charles greeted you and Logan before the door was fully opened. You entered both annoyed and relieved to see your old friend. You hadn’t seen him in about 3 years

Logan entered behind you. He stepped quietly to avoid drawing attention to himself for the moment. Charles slowly looked up from the book he was reading and smiled softly. He looked happy to see you again.

“It’s nice to see you again, my dear. Come in, have a seat,” you offered, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk.

“I think I’ll stand,” you replied, still approaching him. “You sent one of your lackeys to come get me?” you asked as you pointed toward Logan.

Logan gave a huff of annoyance at the word lackey; it felt borderline disrespectful. Charles gave a heavy sigh, looking unbothered by your question.

“I did, but I believe I said that we’d speak again soon the last time we were together,” Charles reminded you. “I told you living alone was no way to live. The world is a dangerous place. Surely you know that, my dear. I just think it would be safer if you were here, with us, where you’re protected.”

“I don’t need protection,” you huffed.

“Not physically. You still need people—connection.” You felt like the conversation was a broken record, yet you always listened. “You have no one, my dear. No friends or loved ones—”

“Not true, we’ve been friends for over 20 years, and I’ll even consider making Logan a friend to mentally protect myself,” you cut him off, trying to humor the conversation. Charles was not amused. Logan was though.

Charles sighed. He could see that you were frustrated and being stubborn, masking it with humor. He knew you had always been a lone wolf. He had hoped that maybe time would change that, but obviously not.

“Is this truly how you want to live out your days? Alone?”

You glanced over to Logan who was also staring at you, “I already explained this to Wolvie. And thanks for sending him. I’m sure it was a meeting that Stryker would have loved seeing.”

Logan was listening to the interaction, though he was trying to keep his mouth shut. Charles could see that he was teeming with his own opinions, and decided to speak in his own defense.

“I thought Logan would be a good choice. He can deal with your stubbornness,” Charles admitted.

“You knew that I wouldn’t be able to kill him.”

Charles sighed again, knowing a part of that was true. You were more of a shoot first, ask questions later kind of girl. He wasn’t going to outright agree with your statement. He knew it would cause more conflict, but Logan spoke up, unable to stop himself.

“You didn’t even try, princess. Going soft?” he teased from the peanut gallery of the conversation.

Looking over your shoulder, you glared at him, “Fresh out of adamantium bullets; might need to invest now.”

Logan's chuckle at your response got lost in the rumble of the thunder. He was just enjoying this interaction between you and Charles. Getting a rise out of you was just a bonus.

You do protect others,” Charles interrupted. Knowing both you and Logan, he figured you two could bicker for hours if given the chance. “You can do that here.”

“I don’t think you want me running my work out of this place, right?”

“No,” he simply stated, “but our students—our future students—don’t always come from the best homes…you may not need us, but we need you, dear.” 

You hated to admit it, but that stuck with you. Your home life wasn’t good. Yet, it paled in comparison to your life with Stryker. You waited for help that never came. The number of unanswered prayers you had shot up always fell flat. Being the help for someone like you? It spoke to you.

You slightly paced, thinking while the storm outside roared, “I’m not a good team player, Charles. I’ve given it a try and it’s not my cup of tea. I appreciate the offer, but I think I oughta go home.” Near the end of your sentence, the loud rumble of the thunder made you jump.

Logan smirked slightly when he saw you jump. He took note of this, an idea forming in his mind. The storm was pretty intense outside, the rain pouring and thunder roaring. Logan spoke up, his tone slightly amused.

“You gonna run through that, princess?”

You huffed as, again, Logan had a point. You looked at the window, the wind whipping the rain in all directions. You groaned to yourself and paced back toward Charles.

“How about I stay the night and think about it?” you offered. For the first time in 20 years, you were on the fence instead of jetting home.

Charles had some gleam of hope. You were appearing to give this more consideration than you had in the past. “That’s a good idea, my dear. You can spend the night, think about it, and I’ll talk to you again in the morning. How does that sound?”

“Peachy,” your tone was short.

Charles chose not to comment on your attitude; you were here and that was a lot farther than he's ever gotten. “Very good…I expect we’ll be able to speak again in the morning. Logan, do you mind showing our guest her room for the night?”

You rolled your eyes before turning to look at the gruff man standing against the wall near the door. Logan chuckled slightly as you turned to look at him. He appreciated how cute you looked when you were upset. 

He pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against and walked over to you, that signature smirk on his face. “Well, come on, princess. I’ll show you to your room.”

You rolled your eyes as you allowed Logan to exit the room first. Logan led you down the hallway, passing rooms where students were staying. Some were roaming the hallways as well. There were a lot of them, all different ages and different powers, all just…happy. Logan glanced back at you, noticing how jarring the amount kids must be to you.

“Not used to being around this many kids, huh?” Logan asked.

You shook your head, “You just live with all these kids?

Logan chuckled, continuing to lead you down the hallway. He shrugged, “Eh, it ain’t too bad. It was a lot at first, but they’re good kids. And Charles is right, they need someone like you. Someone who’s skilled and gives a shit.”

You could see the sense of pride and protectiveness Logan had for the children just by the way he looked at them. For the first time in years, you felt your heart flutter. You didn’t even know your heart could do that anymore. The little smiles and greetings he got secretly warmed your heart. “And the kids seem to like you.”

He chuckled again, “You sound surprised.”

“Well, you just seem to have an asshole vibe rather than a nurturing one.”

Logan shrugged, “There are enough people here that baby them. I ain’t one of them. I imagine you being the same way, sweetheart.”

You passed a group of older female students, all of them saying hi to ‘Mr. Logan’ before erupting into fits of giggles. Logan didn’t pay it any mind. Glancing over your shoulder as they walked by, you could recognize the teasing of girls with crushes.

“Ohhh, I’m sure the girls love it,” you teased.

Logan lowly laughed at your little comment, “They have their little crushes. Not only do they love it, they also think I'm a pretty damn good looking guy too, princess.”

You felt like gagging at his response, “They’ll grow out of it,” you retorted as you approached the guest room.

Logan chuckled again. He was just enjoying your banter and entertained how you responded to him each time. He was amused by your scoffing and eye rolls. He opened the door to your room, watching you closely as you walked in.

“I doubt it, princess. Most women seem to love me damn well into adulthood.

“Oh yeah? You’re just too damn irresistible? They just can’t help themselves?” The layer of sarcasm on your words was thick.

Your words were only fueling his ego and that damn smirk on his face. He leaned against the door frame, shamelessly eyeing you. “Just ask all the women I’ve been with. Not a one that didn’t want more.”

As irritating as Logan was to you in this moment, it was something to do—someone to mess with. You approached him, your eyes gazing into his, until your hands were pressed against his chest. You felt his breath hitch against your palms. You leaned up to whisper into his ear, “You keep telling yourself that, Wolvie.”

Logan let out a bit of a grumble at your words, his hands gripping the doorframe to control himself. “You think I’m lying?”

You allowed your finger to dance across his chest, noticing the prominent definition of it, “I just think you overestimate your own…abilities…”

“Sweetheart, I think I can prove damn well that I don't have to overestimate anything…" His voice was low. His eyes wandered to your heaving chest, knowing he had an effect on you, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

Your eyes narrowed, “What are you? The mansion’s welcome wagon concubine?”

“It’s a new…package offered with the welcome wagon.”

You slyly smiled. With your hands on his chest, you pushed him with enough force to push him into the hallway, despite his grip on the frame. “Good night, Logan.” 

You closed the door in Logan’s face before he could make another snide remark. Finally letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you could hear the hearty yet low laugh from Logan on the other side of the door. 

You hated how fluttered Logan made, how he made your heart race. He was shameless with his flirtations. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of giving in, no matter how tempting it was. He needed to be knocked down a peg. Still, it was hard to ignore the heat between your legs.

Logan was still outside in the hallway, standing right outside your door and still chuckling to himself. He could feel the heat that formed when he was pressed so close to you; he hadn’t felt like that in a long time. He smirked and shook his head. He was going to have some damn fun with you…

note: I'd love to do a part 2! tell me your thoughts♡

𓆩♡𓆪 Next part

[monstersandgenderqueers]

Little Gifts (Part Seven)

Everything is boiling over. The unfamiliar feelings that pop up whenever Loki is near or on your mind have become uncomfortably familiar. In a moment of vulnerability, Loki gives all that you need.

Pairing: Loki x audhd!reader

Word count: 3258

A/N: I swear I wrote and rewrote this part three times. I'm still not sure it makes sense, but uh... I don't think anything makes much sense in this series, which may be the point. Also, Thor and Loki do have a nice long conversation, and I'd like you to ignore the fact that they would be speaking in Asgardian.

Divider credit @/saradika

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Since that day in the dappled shade, Loki has been more… affectionate with you.

Most of it is a casual, perhaps accidental brushing of arms as he passes by or sidles up next to you when you're doing something. It never fails to make your stomach flip and your brain turn off momentarily. Sometimes, when he's next to you for an extended period of time, he'll touch your hand. A barely-there graze of his fingers against yours, sending a jolt through you each time you realize he's touching you and you don't feel gross or disgusted by it like you would with someone else.

Though, he has yet to hold your hand again. There are a couple of occasions where you think you might be bold enough to just snatch his hand yourself without asking, just to see how he would react. Would he blush? Or would he pull away and retreat?

You want to tell him that you like him, too. But an awful feeling—that you've come to realize is the fear of rejection, a feeling as if icy hands have grasped you tight and have yet to let go— floods your veins and immobilizes you faster than the words can even form in your mind coherently.

Terrible idea.

No. Instead, you squirm away when his brief grazes make you feel too warm and tingly.

There is one thing you might be brave enough to ask, though. The thought to ask didn't even occur to you, it just slipped from your lips when you got a chance to be alone with him in his still painfully bare bedroom.

You don't even look at him as the question leaves you, "Did you know it was me the whole time?"

Sitting across from you on his bed, he raises a brow. "Care to be more specific, darling?"

Ugh. 

"I mean, the stuff I've given you?" You try to act like they were just things that didn't matter to you, like the act of giving a gift wasn't in any way integral to how you seek connection. Unfortunately, you know he sees through you. You can put on the most elaborate mask and he would take it off for you.

He sighs. The roles seem to flip. Now, it's you who's seeking eye contact, searching his face because this has been bothering you, searing through your brain like it's own version of tinnitus.

Why did Loki throw away the fern?

Why did he give back the stuffie?

Why did he keep the book for a short while?

I have to know! 

I can't go on not knowing if he thinks it was stupid or childish.

It was, wasn't it?

What sort of adult would want the things I like?

Loki keeps his eyes down, looking at his hands rather than at you, picking at his palm. Finally, he responds, "Yes. I've known it was you since the beginning."

"Since the fern?"

"Yes, the fern."

"And you just… threw it away?"

"Look," he sighs, then says your name like it's a heavy burden. "I couldn't accept any of your gifts."

"You're lying." You huff, frowning the way he usually does. "You accepted the book with no issue. That is, until you just left it in the common room, exposed, where anyone could just take it and keep it."

"The book was… different. It had your thoughts in it… your words. Tossing it like it was mere refuse would be nothing short of diabolical."

"But you left it in the living room," you repeat.

"Because I knew you would pick it back up."

You sigh and wring your hands together, needing to stim to get your thoughts back on track. "But… it was diabolical to put the little, innocent plant in the garbage, Loki." You want to cry just a little bit, your lips already trembling just a fraction of a second before the wave of unpleasantness washes over you. "And… and giving back the plushie was kind of mean, too. I gave them both to you because I wanted your days to be better and I wanted you to be less lonely and I wanted you to be my friend and—" You stop your rambling a little too late. When you look up, his eyes meet yours and he reaches towards you, grabbing one of your hands. There's a  brief sting from the skin contact, and you realize you were digging your nails into your skin, the crescent-shaped wounds throbbing.

He rubs the angry marks with a tenderness that is completely and entirely unfamiliar to you. It seems to surprise him, as well, since he drops your hand and looks away. Unfortunately, he doesn't look shy. He never looks shy. Instead, he looks tense, his muscles taut, his jaw set, and his brows drawn together, like every time you had upset him before.

Dang it. Why can't I just do this one thing right? Why have I ruined our conversations with my big mouth? Can't I just be normal for one second? I should know better by now than to let my mouth run.

You want to take it back. You want to undo whatever it is you have done to make him so visibly upset. It must be awful if I can see how upset he is, right?

Finally, finally, he talks. "I don't think now would be the best time to talk about it."

The "why not?" falls halfway out of your mouth before you can rein it back in. You're frustrated, and terribly hurt. While Loki seems to be the cause of most of your unwelcome emotions since he arrived, you know it's unfair to pester him because your stress won't let you stop pursuing these sorts of things that cause your anxiety to spiral out of control. 

Instead, you try to approach it from a different angle, hoping his answer might do a little to quell your anxiety, "Can I ask a different question, then?"

"Of course."

"Are we friends?"

The question must shock him a little bit, since he looks at you and his eyes are wider than they normally are. "Are we not friends?"

You shrug, "I'm not sure… Sometimes, people will call me their friend, but I know nothing about them other than their name. Sometimes, when I think I am friends with someone, I just misinterpret their politeness as genuine interest." You want to keep going, to say more, but you're scared that the more you say, the more of what you say will come true.

I'm not a very good friend. The people I call my friends will leave me behind.

Please don't leave me behind, too.

He scoffs, "Sweetheart, you know I can't stand being polite." Maybe you read more into it than you should, but you have gotten better at realizing when Loki says one thing while hiding what he really wants to say. You'll probably never be able to figure out what, exactly, he means to say unless he, too, has the courage to just say it. He sighs once more, "Yes, we are friends. Now, where were we, before you so boldly interrupted…"

You didn't mean to. 

You aren't eavesdropping on purpose. Yet, once you hear how worked up Loki is, you can't tear yourself away. 

With your back against the wall beside Loki's door, you listen to him and Thor talk, both of whom are clearly unaware that the door has been left open.

"You have to tell them, Loki."

"I can't, you know I can't." His voice sounds rougher than normal.

"They deserve to know. If what you say is true, then we need to prepare."

"There's nothing to prepare and you know it. Nothing will stop him when he's here." There's panic in Loki's voice, and it makes your heart squeeze agonizingly in your chest. You want to run in there and tell him that whoever is coming for him won't even have a chance to lay a finger on him with you there, but you know that would be a lie. If Loki is this terrified of someone, then you know there's little chance of you surviving a confrontation.

"Loki, have faith in others, for once—"

Something falls to the ground with a clang and startles you. The racing of your heart almost muffles the voices coming from within the room, and for a moment you're afraid that you've been caught. But then, Loki's dulcet tones reach you clearly, "I've gotten myself tied up in a knot, Thor." A pause, followed by rustling.

Don't peek, don't peek, don't peek…

"I was going to run, find the rest of the stones. Give him what he wants."

"Would you really do something so cowardly?"

"Would it be cowardice if it would keep them safe? By the Norns, Thor, I tried being mean and cold, and it took less than a day for them to tear my heart from my ribs, and they've kept it ever since."

What? Who's hurting him?

Loki continues, getting quieter and quieter, "I can't stand who I am when I'm with them."

"You haven't hurt them, have you?"

"No, of course not! But that's the point, Thor—" Loki stops himself, then lets out a great, burdensome sigh. "We'll tell everyone. Except them."

"Loki, I do hope you know what you are doing."

"I don't. That's what concerns me. I hate it so much. You made it sound so… so… marvelous. Exquisite. You made it sound like everything would start to make sense, but nothing does..."

Their conversation becomes quieter, more and more muffled until you can't make out a single word.

With many thoughts to process and absolutely none of them helpful and all of them about Loki, you walk back to your room for a moment of solitude.

Turns out, your moment of solitude was short lived. 

Tony messages you, telling you to bring your 'Conversation Extractor' buds and to wear something 'nice.' With no guidance as to what 'nice' means or what event Tony planned last minute, you throw on something clean and black, so you don't have to worry about it matching or clashing.

Slacks? Yeah? No, jeans… no, definitely slacks. Belt? Maybe? If I wear the slacks do I wear, like, a t-shirt to balance the formal with casual? Is it cold? Warm? Ugh. Dressy? No. Too nice. Uhm, slacks?

You can feel your annoyance grow uncomfortably warm in the pit of your stomach as you put the earbuds in the pocket of the pants you finally decide to wear. Tony sprung this on you out of nowhere, and you've made it clear many times that you hate last-minute changes to your plans.

Your plan was to lie in bed and wallow in your yearning for at least several hours, but from what little context Tony gave you, that has changed to participating in a 'company' dinner at a restaurant in town.

When you deem yourself clean enough, you stop at your mirror for a second to practice at least one smile, if only to erase the giant scowl. You may be peeved about the whole plan thing, but you don't want anyone to think you're mad at them when you inevitably frown without thinking.

When you make it outside to where the limos are waiting, you see Loki standing next to Thor, dressed in a suit. At first, you thought it was black, but as you get closer, you realize it's an incredibly dark, inky green. And velvet, too.

Looking at everyone else, dressed in similarly dark colors and expensive clothes, you hope that what you're wearing is passable as 'nice.'

I'm completely underdressed… Ugh. Everyone looks amazing…

Knowing you might dwell on this for the entire car ride, you opt to think about something much more pleasant, like Loki's hair.

You didn't notice at first, but he's clearly used his magic to make it far longer than it was when you last saw him. The curls went all the way down to the bottom of his sternum, and the locks looked so shiny and full and bouncy and…

Okay, different topic…

Ignoring that now-familiar fuzziness crawling up your chest, you try to listen to everyone else, to see if you could figure out where you're going and why. You could just ask, of course, but even this small thing has you so overwhelmed that your brain-mouth connection has completely fizzled out. You can't even get an 'uhm' past your lips.

Without warning, a large, warm hand gently pushes you toward one of the limos. You relax a little when you realize it's only Thor, but the sudden touch still makes you uneasy. He guides you to a seat next to Loki, and then sits down on your other side, effectively trapping you between them.

Great. Perfect. Exactly what I wanted to happen, Thor!

Natasha climbs in and takes a seat in the last space available where no one else would be squishing her in. You desperately want to ask if you can switch, because being between people in a crowded limo has every warning siren going off in your head. Even the presence of Loki does little to calm your ever increasing distress.

Unfortunately, the limo starts moving before you can ask. If you could even get your mouth to work, that is.

The only word you can think of to describe what happens during that brief limo ride is rowdy.

It's like most of the men reverted back to being teenagers. This was easy to accomplish, of course, since Tony passes around little bottles of liquor. Even though everyone insists on "just one sip," it quickly devolves into chaos. You assume everyone was in such high spirits from a very successful mission—the one you were out sick for—and decide to let go for one night.

The only one, aside from you, who seemed more disgruntled at the forced night out is Loki, which is entirely unsurprising.

In fact, he seems… anxious.

It took you a moment of studying his face to realize this. His lips are taut in a grimace, and he's picking at his palm.

You want to ask, but you know that's a conversation best kept private. After another minute spent drowning everything else out, it hits you.

This is his first time out of the compound in his 'male' form. The form everyone recognizes as the man that waged a war against Earth. There's no way he won't be recognized, either by the staff or just passers-by.

It will be brutal.

Suddenly, the nuclear meltdown you'd felt boiling away in your veins ceases, and all you feel is a bone-deep ache. You hate seeing him this way, and you hate knowing you're just as helpless as he is in this situation.

You look down at his hands and see how red his palm is. Without thinking, you grab his wrist, halting his skin-picking. You pull his arm towards you until his hand is resting on the small sliver of seat cushion between you. Patting his wrist gently as if to say, "keep that right there," you let go and twist your own hands together. Then, you suddenly realize what you did and feel a wave of heat blaze on your cheeks.

Thankfully, the limo comes to a stop, and everyone climbs out, one by one. You wait until most of everyone has already stepped out before attempting to do so yourself, but Loki places his hand on your thigh for just a brief moment to stop you.

"Thank you, little one," he says, too quietly for anyone else to hear. "And… you look wonderful tonight."

The heat that had just left your cheeks rages once more, and you're glad it's dark enough to go unnoticed.

Since he's closest to the door, Thor helps you step out, saving you from tripping on yourself the way you know you could have, since your brain is entirely occupied by Loki with no room whatsoever for silly things like walking properly.

From there, the night goes much smoother than you had thought it would. At least, when it comes to Loki. Either the staff were informed that the god would be present, or they were really good at their jobs, because the polite smiles never left their faces.

Several people—Tony, Nat, and even Steve, to your surprise—implore you to sit closer to them, towards the middle of the long dining table, but you decline as politely as you can. Taking a seat at the end of the table, you sigh in relief when the chair opposite you is removed so someone can sit at the head of the table. Loki slides into the chair beside you, somehow making the simple act of sitting down at a dining table look elegant and not at all clumsy in the way that you did.

He leans in to whisper, "You do realize that sitting there makes the others want to drag you in more, right? Your resistance to socialization only heightens their need to make you speak, little one."

"I know. But, at least this way I won't literally be in the middle of a conversation. Like it matters, I won't be able to follow what they're saying, anyway."

You pat your pocket and feel the earbud case. Pulling it out, you decide that it can't hurt to put them in, even if you are adamant about not socializing.

"What are those?" Loki asks, taking the case to inspect it.

"They're ea—aaaaah!" Instead of words, all you can let out is a whine that scratches your throat on the way out. The earbuds screech, like feedback from a microphone. You pull them out and toss them on the floor, wanting to be as far away from them as possible. Then you press your palms to your ears and squeeze inwards, as if that would do anything to make it go away.

Thankfully, everyone else was in the middle of cheering when you cried out. Only Loki noticed your distress. He smacked the case on the table like it physically wounded you, then grabbed both of your arms and gently pried them from around your head.

"Darling? What's the matter?"

With trembling lips and your willpower collapsing, you whimper, "I hate this. I hate this. I want to go home."

"I know, my darling, I know, but I don't think either of us are allowed to leave." He looks around for a moment, and when he's certain no one is paying enough attention, he presses his palms to your ears.

The ringing ceases, replaced by the sound of rustling leaves and grass blades.

His voice is clear, but still soft, like it, too, is subject to the imaginary wind, "I can get us home, sweetheart. I'll start a fire on the table if I have to."

You laugh a little, then use your napkin to dab away the stream of tears that had already made their path down your face. "I'll be okay, Loki. I promise."

He nods and lets go. Sounds slowly come back to you, one by one, but they're still quiet and muffled as if his hands were still covering your ears. He holds your hand under the table, massaging your fingers to distract your senses.

With your voice mostly locked back up, you whisper a thank you, and do a couple more practice smiles to get rid of whatever strange and unpleasant expression that must have been on your face. "I'd do anything, little one. Anything."

Tag List:

@princess-ofthe-pages  @blaze-the-idiot @anxiousskylar @athyend @cosmicstxrdust @the-ultimate-librarian @ceeisatlumon @webpage-loading @xxashes-rebornxx @mischeveousscamp @lilredpanda-1999 @booksooks @shegeekery

Let me know if you want to be removed/added 💚

[collegetennisoriginstory]

Idk if this has been asked before but is CT:OS a standalone game or will there be sequels?

Haha. It absolutely depends on whether I can continue writing interactive fiction for the next 2 years, 4 years, or way more. Finances and whether I end up writing full-time somehow are a big factor, as is interest/burn out :)

If I've only got another 2 years in me, likely CT:OS is a stand-alone game.

If I've got 4 years, probably substantial DLC content using some of the ideas in PT:OS (below) but I've got so many other games/plots I want to try my hand at.

If I've got way more years in me... definitely a CT:OS sequel (or two, to be exact). TLDR above the cut, long ramble below the cut.

Pro Tennis: Origin Story

Where MC is 4 or so years out of college, has turned pro, and has risen slowly, painstakingly through the challenger tour ranks, and is now trying to break into the Top 50. At their age, it's probably a make-it or break-it period, as if they don't succeed then, they'll probably never succeed.

While CT:OS is about found family and coming of age and pursuing one's dreams, which I love, I'd want PT:OS to be about losing faith in one's dreams or one's talent, wondering if their sacrifices are worth it, wondering if one's actually good enough (or crazy enough), building a family of people who are firmly in your player's box (who has faith in you even when you don't have faith in yourself.)

More about PT:OS

Choose what happened to their relationships after college and after the first couple of years on tour (I love writing exes: e.g. broke up in college or breaking up fresh out of college cause the tennis road-life/ambition etc. killed the relationship)

Additional stats to balance like money/sponsorships/media presence/fame, and just... normal adult struggles like cooking for yourself, doing your own laundry, booking your hotel rooms, making ends meet (see elaboration below)

I want to write a story about being in a long dark tunnel, wondering if one should keep pushing, keep grinding, keep sacrificing their life and youth and sanity and relationships for this insane dream of being a tennis player

I'd probably keep the original cast of ROs, but introduce maybe 2 more? Perhaps a celebrity e.g. actor/musician (we all know how those love to flock around tennis players, but only famous ones), and maybe one's coach for spiciness?

As someone whose favourite part of Challengers was not, in fact, Zendaya's hotness (gasp, blasphemy) and instead, the scene where Patrick Zweig's character is struggling to find a hotel room for the night & starving & desperate for calories, I really want to make a game where the player not only has to deal with playing tennis, but also all the other practical life bits that need to align in order for a Top 200 or Top 100 player to become a Top 50 player.

Like yes, there's the Nadals and the Williams sisters and even the Nishikoris (who never quite lived up to their potential) but what of the players whose names you've never even heard of?

I'm interested in class (how only rich people get to tough it out / stick it out for years without significant sponsorships) and also race/gender/sexuality and how that coalesces with finances and media presence etc.. and also how mediocre players scrounge together a team to support them, plus of course the emotional toll of always being on the road (and always being exhausted) without ever seeing much of a pay-off until they crack some invisible threshold of 'greatness'.

Finally, the trilogy would probably be rounded out with a final game.

Third game (no idea what the name would be)

MC is older, maybe 30? And has suffered some career-ending event (injury, horrific tailspin drop-off) after winning a grand slam, perhaps seeking one final shot at proving to the world that they do have what it takes to be a champion, a legend to be remembered as someone who isn't just a one-slam pony.

Themes explored would be:

Age (when is it too late to hang up one's boots?) and still feeling like you've got what it takes even though the world's telling you you're past your prime, the limits of physicality

Trying to rebuild something that has been broken, when everyone's telling you that it'll never be fixed

Leaving a legacy, fame, self-worth (figuring out what to do when one is stripped of something that has been a guiding star)

Maybe even addiction?

<This would be the game that would be most heavily inspired by Carrie Soto>

If you read all of that, wow, I'm impressed, and yep, that's what I'd foresee for CT:OS. A trilogy, if I've got it in me.

RO speculations:

Tobin could even become one's physical trainer or nutritionist/physiotherapist, though maybe that's a bit of a stretch.

Sam could become world's most biased sports podcaster/journalist

Rayyan continues as MC's rival/(possible lover)

G is ... still adamantly Not Part of the Tennis World even though they attend every game?

What do you guys think?

[xamag-draws]

BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

[yugsly]

Hey uhhh. Sorry if this is too spoilery. So that Zine. Mentioning Capochin. THE FULL ON EMO EXCLUSIVE.

Do you think Capochin and [Redacted] improve together? They got a lot of work to do?? Is it okay for them to be together?

I wanna know MORE and I just. People are SCARED for Capochin myself included uhhhh.

PLEASE I NEED ANSWERS

Hey, before I say anything- I know they're mine and Day's characters, but anything I talk about related to "post-game" or context not in-game is still "speculation". Meaning, not necessarily canon unless it was something recorded in dev-text or something I specifically had in mind while creating it, not after. I would never want to snuff out anyone's own ideas for what things "mean". THAT BEING SAID, I have some things to say- DO NOT READ ON UNLESS YOU HAVE COMPLETED THE GAME:

So, It's pretty complicated and I've thought about it a lot during and after making the game. Hector's got to do a LOT of work to even earn Capochin's forgiveness, if he'll even give it to him. (if most anyone will give it to him, really.) It's a silly cartoon game but yes, the situation is pretty grim. I mean, you've seen that cooking video Capo made. You've seen what he said when you faced him at the end of the line. All those implications. Without getting into specifics, yeah, the situation was really, really bad. But it's complex. It's not black and white. Hector and Capo knew eachother for a long long time even before Hector became Inspekta (a nosy person might have noticed the news clippings in Milldread). So they go way back- and I imagine things were pretty great up until, and a good ways into Hector ascending. But you know, there was a certain turning point- leading to where he ended up. Razzma speaks on this a bit, throughout. (Razzma has a lot of interesting background tidbits, explore giving her different phrases!) Him realizing that becoming a god didn't solve his insecurities like he thought they might... and more... I won't elaborate too much, because I want you to imagine it yourself. I only want to spread a few bread crumbs and let you make up your minds, even if I have my own thoughts, you know? Your question: "Is it okay for them to be together?" Well, that's up to you to decide. It's okay to imagine whatever you want. Capo forgives Hector eventually? Great. He never forgives him? Also Great! Do I wish I had more time in-game to elaborate on these things? Sure, I do. There's a handful of things I'd love to have explored. But I also like that it's open ended- you can tell, at the end, even though the day was saved, Hector and Capo feel awful. Sure, Capochin gave him that confidence boost to save the day- nothing he said was a lie- it was just the right thing to do in the moment. But you know, they don't really get a chance to really hash it out. It allows for y'all to really brainstorm, the world is your oyster. Whatever you come up with- be kind to eachother and respect eachother's ideas, okay?

[kuroppiii]

  soft launch ᵕ̈        timeskip! sakusa kiyoomi x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : it's just a silly   ⋮⋮  little tiktok, nothing major ... ⋮⋮  right ?

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 🥛     ♡ # 2.6k 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🎶 on shuffle “ never lose me ” - flo milli ( specifically the trending clip of " yeah he my man , he was never your type . if you try me , ho it ' s on sight " , but whatever tiktok audio you ended up using is up to you lol <3 )

🧸 directory ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ first time i ' ve pulled myself together to write about sakusa bc when i think about him , i simply can ' t think straight . an exaggeration ? man i wish !! ”

you weren’t anyone special, really. you lived your life, pursuing your goals and hobbies, spending time with those you love. there were things you were good at, sure, but any sort of recognition or praise for those things only ever came from those closest to you. if you walked down the street, no one would bat an eye. "ordinary" couldn't have described you any better.

your boyfriend on the other hand, star wing spiker and outside hitter of the msby jackals, jersey number 15, sakusa kiyoomi certainly was a bit extra-ordinary in the public's eye.

if you took any of his official social media accounts, they easily skyrocketed ahead of any of your accounts in the sheer numbers of following or likes or views. but that's only natural, as the reasons you love your boyfriend–talented, cool, handsome–surely would be shared by the thousands he's subjected to by being in the limelight of the popular and successful pro-volleyball team.

but what else is natural, is that you've always wanted to be able to "soft launch" him, your boyfriend. you've scrolled through your tiktok "for you" page and your pinterest feeds and have undoubtedly saved every "soft launch inspo <3" post you've seen.

the idea was just perfect, you thought–sakusa often prefers not having his face in photos or videos anyway.

to sakusa, however, well... he didn’t really get it until you sat down and had to explain it. you always found it ironic he was never the most active online despite having the bigger following count between the two of you, after all.

“so you want to go public?” he asked, a bit of surprise in his voice.

"well, yes. but also no," you tried to clarify, leaving him with an even more perplexed face that tugged at your lips as you smiled and calmly continued with your elaboration.

you and him have discussed how to navigate your relationship with his volleyball stardom in the past before. it's not like your closest friends and family didn't know about your relationship, but granted, some of your more casual friends and acquaintances who followed your socials probably didn't entirely know either.

the general public definitely did not know, though, of course. but that's why you'd just post something on your accounts, significantly smaller than his.

“are you okay with that?" you made sure to confirm with him, after explaining your thought process on the whole idea.

he came over to you and placed his hands on your hips gently, a concentrated look in attempts to understand your idea adorning his features as he spoke, “i mean, i'd love to be able to finally let everyone know about us–but really it's up to you if you're okay with it. when it comes to things like this—always has, love.”

and what he said was true, from the moment you started dating he was always trying to protect your peace from the media and reporters and cameras. to him, you were like his private repose from all that. but admittedly, as time went on, you both came to realize keeping your relationship under wraps could get pretty hard at times, especially when you wished to go on normal dates out and about instead of resorting to small secluded get-togethers with the handful of people you who knew or nights spent inside your home.

you shook your head as you reached up to brush some of his curls out of his face, revealing his beauty marks above his eye—brows subtly knit together as he considered how your idea might play out in the longrun.

his arms lovingly pull you even closer as you reassure him, "it's just my friends and family who might see it, anyway. it's just a fun little thing to do, omi, that's all!"

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

a few days later, you and sakusa had an event to attend with the rest of his team. it was a nice dinner so you were all dressed up–the perfect get-up to record a small tiktok or two to satisfy your boredom as you waited for your boyfriend to finish getting ready himself.

as you scrolled through your saved audios, you stood by the humble expanse of wall where sakusa had some of his volleyball medals and trinkets displayed in your shared apartment. then it hit you: this would be the perfect opportunity for that soft launch you were thinking about.

he didn't even have to be there, you could just have his framed "sakusa 15" jersey and recognitions with his name on it in the background as you sang along to a song. it was simple. a little ostentatious? maybe. but you thought it was subtle and fun enough to entertain the people who followed you and were going to see it.

so you picked an audio and started recording. your accessories for going out that night glimmered with the gold medals on the wall in the dim lights of the apartment as you lip-synced to the lyrics, showing off your outfit with a slightly sly attitude of making claim to your relationship with sakusa–claim to what rightfully was yours.

but just as the timer on your video was up, you hear sakusa’s voice approaching from down the hallway, his watch clattering as he's trying to put it on, "what are you doing?"

you break out into a sheepish smile as you rush over to end the video timer manually, "nothing! let's head out!"

in the car on the way to the event, you posted the video and thought nothing about it. no tags, no caption, no nothing–just something cheeky for your friends and family to see and hopefully get a small kick out of.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

late the next morning after you wake up, you stretch over to your bedside table to grab your phone to do a first-thing-in-the-morning doom scroll. sakusa's still peacefully snoozing away–head tucked under your jaw, soft breaths fanning your neck, arm secured around your waist, and legs tangled with yours under the sheets–when you open up one of your socials and realize you've gained thousands of followers overnight... literally.

you swipe past notifications of your friends texting you dozens of messages to see that hundreds of comments have flooded the most recent post you made–pictures of you and those same friends on a day out in the city–no sakusa in sight yet a lot of the new comments gave mention to him.

almost thinking you're still asleep and dreaming, you scroll through the words total strangers have left for you. it was such a mixed bag: some were mean, some were just confused, and some were even very nice, complementing you on your appearance.

there were a few, however, that mentioned a certain "repost".

"here from the repost"

"RAN to see this after seeing the repost"

"it's been less than a day and there's already so many comments about the repost lol"

and so you go to look up your name with the word "repost" attached to it, and are met with dozens of articles about your "viral tiktok reposted by msby's sakusa kiyoomi seemingly hints at volleyball star's secret relationship".

shocked, but still trying not wake up said volleyball star with your reaction as he clung to you on your shared bed, you quickly switch over to your tiktok to look back at the video you had posted just the night before.

surely enough as you let the video play out, the buttons on the right-hand side of your phone screen displayed astronomically larger numbers than that you've ever seen something you've posted in your life track before.

as the video plays the moment sakusa had called out to you–with you smiling to somewhere off camera before getting up close to the camera and cutting off the recording–you look down lower on the screen and see “msby sakusa reposted”. his official account. (you knew this bc he had you help him set up his personal one, the name of which you set up to come up as simply his nickname amongst friends "omi" with the cleaning sponge and bubbles emoji.)

hearing the audio of the video, you can feel sakusa stir at your side, his brows furrow against your skin as he peeks out from under his messy bedhead of curls to look at what you could be watching so soon after waking up.

after processing it was a video of you, one of his hands wordlessly part from where it was snaked around your waist and reaches up to tap on the little heart icon on the side of your screen.

then his hand returns to where it was, and he retreats back to the space between your collarbone and your jaw, hoping to quickly be lulled back to sleep just for a bit more before you two would have to get up and get on with your day.

but after a brief moment, you can suddenly feel the vibration of his voice against your skin, groggy and sloughed down by drowsiness to a deep treble as he lazily mumbled, “oh... that was your phone. was wondering why it wasn’t liked yet. i could've sworn i did already...”

his words set loose butterflies in your stomach, knowing despite his limited time spent online, he still does everything to let you know he loves you, even if it takes making a small heart icon light up on a video you post. but soon that warm feeling goes away, as your concern quickly overcomes it given the current situation at hand.

“omi," you coo, an attempt to not let on in your voice how you were slightly freaking out as to not disturb his peaceful state, "did you repost it? my video?”

“of course i did,” he replied in a heartbeat. you could feel his breathing start to slow down, him on the brink of slipping back into continuing his slumber.

you also felt he didn't quite realize the implications of what he did.

“you looked nice in it,” you hear him drawl out, after being met with your contemplative silence.

you hummed as you asked a follow up question, “did you do it with your personal account?”

“mhmm,” he sounds so content when he hums back in reply, bliss apparent as he spoke being tangled up with you as sunlight peeked in through the bedroom windows.

one of your hands paused the tiktok from playing and departed from where it clutched your phone to comb through sakusa's hair–partly to calm your nerves and partly in adoration at the realization he was so eager to show you his affection, that he didn’t check which account he was on before he reposted your video.

you tried your best to say your next words carefully and gently, “well i don’t think you did, babe."

"hm?"

trying to act nonchalant about it, you continue, "i gained, like, a thousand followers while we were sleeping.”

"hm?!!"

you no longer feel his curls under your fingertips as he retreats from his little hiding spot, now confronting your phone screen where surely enough, he caught a glimpse of the numbers your video was doing, as well as the little tag that, yes, it does look like he reposted your video using his official msby account.

he was wide awake now as one of his hands go to rake through his locks, and he starts rambling despite how his voice definitely wasn't caught up from his sleep yet, “y/n, angel, i'm so sorry. i didn't even check, i should've. i should've been more careful. now everyone know's about it, and it's all my fault. is anyone being mean to you about it? i can say something, or post something, right now, or—“

you cut his running mouth off with a kiss, dropping your phone in your lap to cup the sides of his face before you pull away.

"you're not... you're not mad at me?" he asks softly, eyes searching yours nervously.

a moment ago you were feeling a little more than uneasy at the thought that you weren't going to be just an ordinary person anymore. but now, seeing how much sakusa cared and doted over you, you realize you'll be fine. because you won't be dealing with it alone. you had someone extraordinary to be by your side each step of the way.

“no, omi. i'm not mad," you tell him through a warm smile, "at least we don't have to hide it anymore."

you feel him slightly nod in your hands, still on edge as he intently listens and hangs onto your every word. you could never get mad at that face. you can't resist the urge to brush your nose against his because of how cute you thought your boyfriend was.

"and besides, it still wasn’t a hard launch. we don't have to confirm anything just yet. so by social media rules... i can still post some more soft launches before we do that, no?" you say with a hint of mischief in your tone, making sakusa break out into a smile as he chuckles and places his hands over yours at the sides of his face.

"y'know what we always say," you continue with a more genuine voice, barely above a whisper, "we won’t let them get to us. we don't owe them anything–let them figure it out. what’s done is done, so let’s just have fun with it, okay?”

you're blessed with the sight of sakusa's dimpled smile growing even wider and before you know it he's all over you, on top of you smothering you with kisses, making you laugh as you try to pry him off of you.

he finally pauses to hover over you, his eyes with the slightest creases at their corners because of how he was smiling down at you, “thanks for bearing with me. not just my social media incompetence, but–for dealing with my… everything, i guess. i love you.”

the sheets ruffle around you as you gingergly wrap your arms up and around his neck, “i love you too omi. always will.”

you reach to grab your phone, buried somewhere in the blanket draped over the two of you, and sakusa rolls off of you as he finds it first and hands it to you. now it was your turn to ramble on, “how about we do the one where you stand behind me and hold the phone really high? or the one where you pick me up and spin me around in a random parking lot? or maybe i should make a video wearing your jersey–? oh my god that'd be diabolical, don't you think omi?"

he laughs into your shoulder at your eagerness as you spend the rest of the morning scrolling through soft launch videos online that you can save to copy later.

“i’ll do anything," he tells you, "i want to show you off–because now i can properly do it the way you've always deserved, love.”

       ⇩  ⇩  ⇩ 𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙐𝙎 ::

a few weeks (and a few more soft-launch tiktoks you both had fun with) later, although you and sakusa never publicly confirmed anything yet, his fans practically accepted that you and him were an item.

you even had the pleasure of seeing some fan-made edits of you come across your feed and appreciatively dropping a few likes on them yourself. but there was one in particular when you peeked into the comments of the video.

the original poster had commented on their own edit: "GUYS SAKUSA GAVE MY EDIT A LIKE WTF???"

you laughed out loud at the comment, considering as how your dear and darling boyfriend had never mentioned his apparent viewing and liking of these edits of you online as of late.

your boyfriend may have learned his lesson about public reposts, but it looks like his attempts at covering up what he hits "like" on needed a bit of work, too.