#that way i can still get my thoughts out of my system without defeating the purpise of the hiatus
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dawntheduckrb · 1 year ago
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Low resolution borb chilling on the curb
#tag wall#i sat and watched this little fella#it found a bug! so awesome#broski was nibbling away#my dad made biscuits and gravy this morning and omg they were heavenly#im convinced the closer the gravy looks to actual prison slop the better it is#bc omg#i was nibbling away too#food ramble sorry; its just been a while since i had them and i cant seem to make a rue w/o messing it up so im super grateful#anyway ive been drawing tiny things here and there#i've decided i wont post them still#half of the problem was i just too busy trying to draw 'for fun' so i could post something on my main#so when i sat down to draw for myself i just couldn't do it#the hiatus seems to have helped with that because im actually making small stuff again#*but*#the other half of the issue i was having was checking my activity page too much#it was a bit obsessive if im being honest and it still kind of is#so while that issue needs to be corrected still#for now it's going under the rug; if i post doodles on my alt like i said i might#I'll still be checking for notes and i simply dont have the time or headspace for that#<<<none of that is in a negative tone btw! im doing much better than i was a few weeks ago! not 100% still but baby steps :3#I'm putting the drawings i make in my drafts and marking the date on each post#whenever finals are over I'll load them up in a queue and start posting them!#that way i can still get my thoughts out of my system without defeating the purpise of the hiatus#**purpose i am not fixing that#ok that's all bye bye 🦆🦆#not rb
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robinsno1lesbian · 1 year ago
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reader goes to a party, drinks, dance, gets horny and then think that is a good idea to go to nancy’s house, she could’ve gone to robin’s but she knows that she would get too worried about how she got there and it’s not that nancy doesn’t worry about her, in fact she does, she’d probably get mad with her for not taking care of herself but it turn her on when nance gets like that, a little mean and rough with her words and touch and reader says “it’s so hot when you act like a mom, can i call you mommy?🥺” please im such a simp for nancy
𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ⋆.˚ ᡣ�� .
-n.w. x reader
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summary: you find your way to nancy’s place after a late night at a party. smut ensues. (2.4k)
warnings: SMUT!! r gets wasted at a party, so: alcohol/drug use, mommy kink, finger sucking, r is a menace, oral sex (r receiving), hair pulling, dirty talk, pet names (baby, sweetheart, good girl…), friends to lovers, didn’t beta read (as always).
a/n: i’m getting through so many requests right now!! i have no idea where the motivation is coming from but i’m gonna make use of it while it lasts!! send me your horny thoughts folks! <3
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you stumble through the wheeler’s backyard, a little uncoordinated, as quiet giggles fall from your lips.
you try to avoid the flowers nancy’s mother has planted, but with your vision blurry and the alcohol still running through your system, it’s a lot harder than expected. you laugh stupidly when your bare leg get caught in the thorns of the roses and try to rip it free before you reach the spot right underneath what you think is nancy’s bedroom window.
more drunken laughter slips from your lips when you imagine the face mr. wheeler would make if you accidentally climbed into his room instead, waking him and his wife from their sleep at the crack of dawn.
you manage the climb more or less solid, blissfully unaware of the height.
“nance” you call out, whisper-yelling her name against the closed window. “wakey wakey”
you knock your fingers against the glass as well, probably harder than necessary. it does the trick: someone flicks the light on and, mere seconds later, the brunette is pulling open her window to glare down at you.
“what are you doing?” nancy hisses, her palms against the windowsill.
“let me in?” you mouth, trying to quiet down. “my leg hurts”
“your-“ she leans forward a little and you lift your leg up for her to see the red lines the thorns have left on your shin. you do lose your balance like this, slowly sliding backwards. luckily nancy is quick to grab your wrists and pull you back against the wall.
“come in” she says, defeated at your drunken state. “and be quiet”
your attempt to climb through her window turns out poorly as you get stuck halfway: your upper body is dangling into the room whilst your legs are still outside, kicking.
“nance” you chuckle. “nance, i’m stuck!”
the girl groans but returns to help you all the way in, sending you stumbling onto the carpet with a more or less loud thud.
her room smells like vanilla and the sweet scent of the floral perfume she wears.
you’re laughing by the time your body collides with the hard ground and watch her from where you’re laying, tilting your head from left to right to inspect her features from this angle.
“you look funny” you conclude.
“you’re drunk” nancy says, her arms crossed over her chest. she’s in a pretty, pink set of pyjamas, lacy and slightly see through in the most perfect places. you can see the outline of her hardened nipples and it makes your mouth water at the mere thought of- no, you remind yourself, this is not the time to thirst over nancy wheeler.
“what are you even doing here at-“ she glances at the clock on her bedside table. “04:00 am?!”
“alright so-“ you throw yourself onto your belly. “i was at this party right? and i got a liiittle drunk”
you try to get to your feet but don’t manage without the other girl’s help, body stumbling and shifting from left to right.
“anyway, your house was closer than robin’s and she always gets so worried” you lower your voice near the end of the sentence, as though robin is around to hear. “didn’t want her to worry about me and- and my shin! my shin!”
you dramatically point out, pointing downwards to the small cuts on your legs.
nancy sighs, already looking through her stuff.
“you could’ve gotten hurt” she scolds, finding her first aid kit underneath her bed. “you did get hurt. what were you thinking?”
“your mom’s roses did that” you whine weakly.
nancy tsks and gets back to you, her brown curls moving as she shakes her head.
“you shouldn’t have went to that party all by yourself!” she points out. “next time, you’re gonna go with a friend, you hear me?”
she grabs your leg and sets your foot down on the floor so it’s bent and she can inspect the cuts.
her brows furrow and she reaches for the a small bottle.
“is that gonna hurt?”
“a little” she says, then softer: “you’ll live”
you take a deep breath in when she taps the alcohol onto your skin. it does burn and you instinctively reach for her hand. to your own surprise, nancy doesn’t pull away. she just squeezes your hand in hers as the other makes sure to disinfect the small wounds.
you hum, watching the other girl work. always taking such good care of you, that nancy wheeler.
“somebody has to” nancy points out. it’s then that you realize you actually said that out loud.
“you have to take better care of yourself y/n” she goes on. her brows are still drawn together. “you could’ve gotten hurt! or worse-“
“mhm” you hum. hardly even listening to any of the words she’s saying. “you know” you slur and lean forward a little bit. “it’s so hot when you act like that. like a mom”
nancy raises her brows in surprise, her fingers sliding away from yours as her hand goes slack.
“you’re such a mommy nance” you go on, your mind foggy as you admit to those things you’ve been imagining. “can i call you mommy?”
a muscle in her sharp jaw twitches.
“y/n” she hisses. “you’re drunk”
“you’re hot!” you say in return, crawling a little closer to her.
“that’s not-“ nancy shakes her head, more energetically this time. perhaps it’s your drunk brain that’s playing tricks on you but her eyes do seem to darken a little bit.
“please?” you try again, batting your lashes at her pleadingly. “pretty please nance. you’re so pretty and so hot when you look after me and-“
nancy presses a finger against your lips to keep you from talking.
“y/n” she warningly murmurs.
it’s not enough. and the finger pressing against your lips seems too tempting for you not to open them and flick your tongue against it.
nancy doesn’t pull back. just turns her head to face you, a look of surprise flashing over her features.
you hold her gaze and part your lips further, until you’ve got the tip of her finger resting between your lipstick smeared lips.
“please” you whisper once more, suddenly (at the new sensation and taste of nancy wheeler’s finger in your mouth) thinking clearer than you have all night.
nancy, who’s staring right back at you, pushes forward at the same time as you suck, so her index sinks into your mouth. you hum when you feel the soft pressure of it pressing down on your tongue.
her lashes flutter and she inhales sharply as she watches the scene unfold.
eventually, she snaps out of her frozen state. her free hand curls up in your hair slowly, until you’re yanked back suddenly. you gasp when you find nancy glaring down at you, holding you by the back of your head.
“is that right?” she whispers, a second finger toying along your bottom lip.
all you can do is whine and open your mouth further so she can push it into you.
your drool is dripping from the side of your mouth when nancy lets you suck on her manicured fingers.
“mhm” she breathes when you let out a strangled moan. “that’s right sweetheart, gag on mommy’s fingers”
her words send a jolt of arousal straight to your center. you hollow out your cheeks around her and nancy hums, pleased.
“so pretty” she coos, spurred on by all the pretty moans and gasps. nancy’s fingers comb through your hair as her fingers pump into your throat. you want her to feel, you absentmindedly think, how good you suck her.
perhaps she’ll let you suck on her breasts next, hidden by nothing but the thin lace she’s wearing. or her strap, with you between her strong legs, bobbing your head along her length. you can feel your cunt throb between your legs at the mere thought.
“nancy” you choke out, voice thick with want. it’s all you do: you want. you want to please her, want to sink to your knees for her and eat her out. you want to let her have her way with you until the only thing you know is her name.
but nancy pulls back, a string of saliva connecting her fingers to your mouth.
“come on baby” she whispers. “you know better than that”
“mommy” you finally gasp because you do know better. especially for her. always for her.
“good girl” nancy praises, her fingers running through your hair appreciatively.
“want mommy to take care of you baby? want me to fuck you properly?”
“yeah” you nod in agreement. “yeah please”
“bed” nancy commands. “now”
the two of you scramble to your feet, nancy hot on your heels. you practically throw yourself onto the pink, fluffy sheets. the mattress beneath you bounces under your weight but the other girl is quick to lie down on top of you and press you into it.
her soft lips press against yours, hungry and hot. it’s the first time kissing her. different from how you’d imagined it, exactly how you’d fantasized.
her tongue licks into your mouth, coaxing a moan from the back of your throat.
“mhm that’s it” she smiles against your lips. “let me hear you baby. be loud for me”
and then she’s kissing down your torso, dragging her nose through the fabric of the shirt. your skin is burning, wanting to feel her lips against it without the additional layer of clothing in the way, but nancy is frantic. she’s kissing her way down like she’s got no time to waste at all.
before you know it, she’s between your legs, pushing your thighs up to your chest to have you nice and open for her.
nancy quickly fumbles with your skirt, works it out of the way and stuffs it into its hemline.
“can i eat you out?” nancy husks, her breath ghosting over your clothed cunt. she’s got her eyes on you, admiring the wet slick patch on the fabric.
“mhm” you whine. “please”
“please what?” nancy asks, her nails digging into the skin of your inner thighs.
you lean your head back against the pillows, humiliation and arousal running hot through your veins.
“please, mommy”
nancy runs her nose over your center, kissing your opening through your underwear.
“that’s it” she praises, fingers reaching for the hemline of your panties.
you bite your lip and lift your hips so the other girl can peel them off and throw them over her shoulder.
“there you go” nancy coos, admiring the sweet slick of your pussy. “such a pretty girl. such a pretty pussy too hm?”
you’re blushing furiously then, as you watch her take in the sight of it.
she grabs the flesh of your ass and pulls you right against her mouth.
the moan you let out at the first contact of her tongue is loud and ragged. you arch your back and nancy reaches for your waist to hold you in place.
her mouth wraps around your clit, sucking harshly, and you’re gone.
her pink, plump lips vibrate around you when nancy hums her approval.
you don’t know if she has ever done anything like this before. she certainly hasn’t gone down on you yet, but she seems to study your body with every precise flick of her tongue and learns with every reaction she coaxes from you.
and you’re responsive, twitching and trembling on the mattress every time she moves.
you can feel yourself gushing more slick each time nancy flicks her tongue side to side, rolling it over your clit perfectly.
“that- that’s good nance” you gasp. “right there!”
“yeah?” nancy breathes, her chin covered in your arousal.
you whine, managing a weak nod on her pillow. your cheeks are rosy, no longer from the alcohol but from the sheer heat of the moment.
“that’s my good girl” she hums, licking her lips. “now lay back and let me take care of you”
and with that, her mouth is back on you and she’s licking broad strokes through your cunt, actually fucking it into you this time.
she eats you out like this for a while, minutes spent drowning between your thighs and in your wetness. nancy wheeler, sweet, kind nancy, eats you out like her life depends on it, like a woman starved: fucks her tongue deep between your folds, wraps her lips around your clit, and licks every drop of your slick up happily.
“taste so good” she praises. “so so good for mommy, hm sweetheart?”
at this point, you’re no longer able to string together a verbal response. instead, you grab her by the hair and guide her where you want -need- her mouth.
“nancy” you cry. “nancy, nancy, nancy”
breathy, high pitched moans continue to go fall from your lips as you feel your orgasm building up in your core. you roll your hips against her lips, a weak attempt to match the pace of nancy’s tongue.
“so- so close” you manage.
“it’s okay baby” nancy assures you. “it’s okay, cum for me”
“fuck, nancy, mommy, i-“
you’re cut off by both; the orgasm that crashes over you and nancy, who puts her mouth on you again. she swallows all the slick that drips from you, dwells in the way your body goes rigid for her mouth.
nancy is relentless, fucks you through the height of your pleasure with her skilled tongue.
she doesn’t stop, not until you weakly pull her back by the brown curls, signalizing her that it’s becoming too much.
she’s covered in you: your cum glistening on her chin in the dim light of her room.
“holy shit” you pant.
“you did so good” nancy whispers, crawling up your body. “so pretty when you cum”
once she’s lingering above you, you wrap your arms around her and pull her in, tasting yourself on her tongue.
“thank you” you mumble against her mouth before turning your head away into the softness of her pillow. it’s warm there, comfortable, and the pillow case smells like her. it coaxes you into a comforting post-orgasmic blissful state.
“sleepy?” nancy asks bemused.
“yeah” you tell her, adjusting your position.
“it’s okay” she kisses your temple. “whatever you need. we’ll talk in the morning”
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auraisereigh · 3 months ago
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"Buried through exhaustion"
standalone
Liam Mairi x f!reader Words: 1.8K Blurb: a story about exhaustion and burn out and how a sweet boy helps in the sweetest ways. ☆ SPOILERS FOR THE EMPYREAN SERIES. burnout & emotional exhaustion, mentions of loneliness/isolation, mild depressive thoughts, comfort heavy.
A/N: i was initially gonna post this friday but fuck it im so burned out that i'd forget. im drowning in exhaustion, i can't even work on anything anymore because my mind shuts down...
Masterlist ☆ Star's story ☆ Support me ☆ Standalones ☆
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Exhaustion crept in — the kind of exhaustion you don’t feel until it’s too late. Until it's burying you.
The sun shone through the curtains, bright and warm. Finally, the days had been warmer and sunnier. I am, by all means, no summer person, nor do I actually enjoy the heat or the bright light of the sun. But these days were different.
I had been so tired—so exhausted to the bone—that the fresh, warm air was welcome. It gave me a chance to work outside instead of being cooped up in the poorly lit room I had been stuck in for weeks. So that's what I had done. I brought my work outside: papers, pens, pencils—everything I needed, sorted neatly on one of the tables. It was the only table still covered in shadows, which I was grateful for, seeing as my skin can barely handle the sun.
It must have been an hour, maybe two or three since I had come outside, and it was well into the evening. The sun still bright and warm and comforting, yet my motivation to continue working had long burned out. It wasn’t that I wanted to enjoy the beautiful weather myself — maybe I did, I wouldn’t know. What I wanted most was to stop working and lay back in my bed, covered in soft sheets and fluffy pillows. Maybe I would sleep. Maybe I would finally let my dam break.
I’d been staring at the same paper for the last hour. A few minutes I would work on it, then I’d grow tired and take a way-too-long break, and after a while, I’d find some kind of energy to work on it again—for a few minutes. Repeating the cycle over and over until the last of my light would fade.
I was just about to pick up my pencil again when I heard his voice.
“Hey, my sweet girl.” Liam’s soft voice cuts through the warm air and the fog in my mind. He takes the seat beside me at the table and quietly tidies the small mess I’d left behind. Pens back in my case, loose papers neatly piled again. Just the way I like it… and he knows that. He knows the peace of mind it gives me when something is clean or organized.
At the age of nineteen, Liam became the softest guy I would ever know. He’s sweet and caring—a sunshine through all kinds of darkness, and a sweet golden retriever boy. I’ve known him my whole life, for as long as I can remember. My days were filled with softness and light, all thanks to him.
I mumble a ‘hi’ to myself but don’t lift my eyes from the paper—the one I’ve been working on and off. He peeks over my shoulder to get a better look.
“You’re still working on those?” he asks with a raised brow.
I give him an exhausted nod. My eyes almost flutter shut.
“I’m about halfway… no, maybe a quarter into all of it,” I mumble, half-asleep. I point to three other piles on the table. “Those also need to be finished, but this is the most urgent,” I explain quickly. He knows all of this already. I’ve vented to him more than once, but it never seems to be enough to get it out of my system.
“And remind me again, when does all of that need to be finished?” he asks gently, like he’s afraid I’ll break under the weight of the question.
“This one needs to be done by Monday. So, in two days,” I reply with a deep sigh. I pick my pen back up to start again.
“The others…” I trail off. “I don’t really know,” I add, defeated.
Working with deadlines had its pressures, but working without deadlines feels impossible. I don’t know which one is most urgent or which one I could leave for last. It’s a mind game—a complete and total mind-fuck at best.
“That’s okay,” he says in that light voice that already lifts a little of the weight from my chest. “One by one, remember?”
Liam recites the gentle reminder he’s given me for years. He moves all the unnecessary stuff out of sight until there’s only one task left on the table.
He shifts a little closer, and his knee bumps softly against mine. “We’ll do this one first. Together,” he says, leaving no room for argument as he takes the pen from me. His presence is a warm reminder that I’m not alone.
About twenty minutes in, my eyes droop closed. Exhaustion takes over, and my body leans closer to Liam’s. His warmth seeps into my skin and he wraps an arm around my shoulders without hesitation. I let out a deep sigh. All this exhaustion and lack of motivation is taking a serious toll on how I feel.
My mind feels like an empty void most of the time. And when it doesn’t, it feels like a loud scream—a chaos I’m usually used to, now pounding so hard it leaves me with headaches almost every day.
Liam must’ve noticed me drifting off. He folds the papers neatly and places the pen back where he took it from.
“Let’s get you to bed, shall we, dove?” he says softly, as if not to break the sleepy haze I’m in.
“I’ve got work to finish,” I mumble, barely audible. “I’ll sleep afterwards.”
The words feel like a salty lie on my tongue. I don’t stop him when he gently pulls me up and into him. He grabs my bag with my supplies and slings it over his shoulder before wrapping an arm around me again to keep me steady.
My eyes blink in and out of focus as I try to anchor myself in the warmth Liam gives me. It’s just then that I realize how alone I’ve been feeling. How lonely.
There’s no one I really talk to anymore—not because I don’t want to. If anything, social contact makes me feel less trapped in my own head, in that prison I can’t seem to escape. Most of my friends don’t seem interested in me anymore. Most nights I spend alone, wondering when I’ll wake up with a message from them again.
My eyes droop more at the sudden weight of isolation.
“It’s okay,” Liam whispers as he opens the door to my messy room. “I’m right here.”
He presses a soft kiss to my temple before closing the door behind us.
His hand settles on my lower back as he guides me to bed—still messy from when I left it earlier.
“Just sit down, okay? I’ll clean this quickly.”
I try to object, but my body refuses to move from its place on the bed.
He collects the clothes quickly, folds them, and tidies the scattered trinkets in my room. He brings me a clean change of clothes. I change while Liam smooths out the sheets and straightens the pillows.
Suddenly, the scent of lavender fills the room. I turn to see him placing my lavender spray on the nightstand.
“Just the way you like it,” he says with a soft smile that brightens the entire space.
I can’t help the tiny smile that appears on my face.
“There’s my girl.” His grin widens, and I feel the familiar red heat creep into my cheeks.
He steps to where I’m standing and finds my smaller hands with his. He steps back a few paces, pulling me with him until we’re both on the bed. My head falls against his collarbone, and his arms wrap around my back, holding me tight.
“You should get some sleep,” he whispers into my hair.
I nod but don’t move.
After a moment, he lifts the covers, and I slip underneath them. He follows and wraps the sheets around us despite the lingering warmth in the air. His arms find my waist, pulling me into his chest.
“I feel so tired,” I whisper with a vulnerable voice. “I feel so alone.”
“I know, sweet girl,” he soothes, tightening his embrace. “I see it every day lately. But you’re okay, and you’re strong, and you will get through this. I promise.”
He places a soft kiss on my shoulder.
“And I’ll be here every day to help you through it. Whenever you need me. All you have to do is tell me, pretty girl.”
I can’t find the words. A few tears slip down my cheeks, and he brushes them away with the soft pad of his thumb.
“Get some sleep,” he whispers as he adjusts the pillow under my head. “I’ll be here when you wake. Always.”
For the first time in what feels like weeks, I let my eyes close, comforted by his warmth and scent. I know the next two months will be hard—maybe the hardest I’ve ever faced. I know I’ll struggle. I already am.
But even when my mind is a mess, having Liam here—just one person who stays—helps more than the radio silence I’ve gotten used to.
Maybe that’ll make it just a little more bearable. Knowing someone cares enough to put their own work aside because they see how low I’ve fallen. Because they know how deeply exhausted and done I am.
But for now, I’ll sleep. I’ll wake, and I’ll work again tomorrow. No matter how exhausting it is—because I can’t escape it. But with him by my side, maybe I’ll feel just a little less alone.
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occamstfs · 1 year ago
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Legacies Are Supposed To Change
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Another fratification, This is one more of a prep to slob tf ! -Occam
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My father was a member of Kappa Epsilon Gamma, and my grandfather before him was practically a founding member. I am going to be the third generation Astor to not only pledge but eventually become president. My family donates enough to the chapter to more than pave my way to the top. My only question now is, why are they making me pledge.
The current president, James, clearly didn’t care for me implying that I was getting in regardless, stopping just short of calling me out in front of the other pledges. That’s the only mistake he’s going to make though, when I’m in the frat I’ll completely clean house. That dunce will be lucky to even still be in the frat. I’m already old enough to be the president anyway, I’m sure my father will help the other alumni to agree.
Despite the president’s protests I have already secured a room in the house and I will say the room does seem to be exquisite. The only detail out of place is a pitcher of beer sitting on my desk. The head is still frothy so it must have been put there recently. Before I moved in my father warned me against partying too hard, we have a reputation to uphold after all, and I am not even a big drinker. 
The amber pitcher in front of me, ice cold without a piece of ice within, is more enticing than it ever should be though. The president must have done something to it. Absolutely. But, I  am awfully parched all of a sudden. I feel my mouth rapidly dry as I move closer to inspect the glass. A sip couldn’t hurt, it’s just beer after all. It’s probably that faux president admitting defeat already, no one can stand up to an Astor and prosper after all. 
I raise the pitcher to my mouth, struggling to raise it without spelling as it is heavier than I thought beer could be. The head spills over my face as I tilt the pitcher to drink. It runs down my cheeks and off my chin not that I could notice or care though. This beer is unlike anything I’ve tasted before. It's so, I need more right now. I force as much of it as I can down my throat before needing to take a break to breathe. The brief respite only gives me time to do something I thought unthinkable for a man of such poise as myself, I let out an impossibly loud burp.
I hear frat bros cheering outside my room in response “Yeah bro! Let’s go Tank!” I feel my face redden from the embarrassment of being heard doing something so profoundly basal. I scoff and roll my eyes as I notice how itchy my face suddenly is. It must be the beer starting to dry where I spilled it.
I go to wipe it off and notice it is far scratchier than it has any right to be. It burns even. I feel my face grow an even deeper shade of red as the beer must start to hit my system. I put the pitcher down and start to scratch my cheeks. I’ve never even had to shave before! Us Astor men don’t even grow peach fuzz! It  would be unbecoming to even try to grow a beard! I look in the mirror to assess whatever my situation and find an uncomfortable face staring back at me. That can’t be right. Thick brown hair is pushing out forming a chinstrap that must have taken months to grow! I lean in closer to inspect my face as another burp tries to force its way out of my throat.
Unwilling to embarrass myself once again I fight to keep it down. As I struggle against the gas in my esophagus I notice that my stomach is starting to bloat up. I see the thick brown hair in my beard start to seep up through my sideburns, staining my perfect blonde coifs into some dirty oafish brown. I gasp as my thin eyebrows rapidly burst into heavy caterpillars over my eyes which almost allows the burp to escape.
Clenching my jaw as I feel my stomach starts to press against my dress shirt. I audibly groan as I hear my bros outside start to cheer once more, something about me drinking the pitcher. They left it for me didn't they! What was I supposed to do! This burst of rage allows me to swallow the burp my neck thickening as it forces its way back down. I look down to see the button pop off of my suit jacket as my stomach starts to grumble. I feel woozy watching my torso start to barrel out, what happened to my lithe lacrosse build? My mind feels heavy as I inspect my growing body, I start to smell some vile body odor start to come from somewhere. One of these oafs absolutely needs to invest in cologne. I sniff around before my head finds itself in my own pit as I take a deep inhale and find the root of the stick. But that can’t be right?
My arms bloat out straining my dress shirt as I toss off my coat. I raise my arm behind my head to inspect my armpits further which creates a tear right on the seam, exposing my pit just in time for me to see my few blonde underarm hairs rapidly thicken to the same brown now covering my face. It’s almost funny? I can barely stop myself from laughing as I watch hair spread like a jungle in my pit, creating a haven for odor my body now apparently produces.
Is this because I burped? Is it some kind of sick joke? I’m struggling to find any reason for what is happening when I hear the zipper of my pants give out. Apparently my stomach isn't the only part of me bloating. I need to stop this. Maybe, maybe if I finish the beer without burping again I’ll go back to normal. That, that makes sense right?
I quickly grab the picture and do not notice how much thicker my hand is. Brown hairs sprouting on my hand and knuckles as my fingers grow hammy and lose the dexterity I have long honed. As I raise the glass to my face my stomach finally blows off the buttons as a thick treasure trail forms a peak halfway up my meaty torso. My body odor grows thicker in the air as I start to drink the rest of the glass. 
I feel my ass thicken as it forms a much weighter cushion in my seat, in the other side I feel as my balls rapidly grow to supply my body with the testosterone my body demands. My cock thickens but gets no longer as the beer dribbles down my face spilling all over my chest where curly dark hair spreads out from the center in a large diamond.
I finish the pitcher and shout to celebrate my conquest, “I did it fuckers! I passed the test,” as I shatter the pitcher on the floor of my bedroom, one of the pledges’ll clean that shit up anyway. 
I stand and rip the strained pants off my body as the shirt tears itself off of its own accord, no longer able to even try to hide my party bod. My bros burst into the room and start cheering “Tank, Tank, Tank!” Making me realize that duh, they’re talking about me. My bros have always called me that I burp again, now performativity as my body finishes changing. My eyes lose any pretentious sparkle they still held as they darken to a dull brown. My vocal chords grow visibly thicker, just showing from underneath the thick beard hanging off my face. A clear boner starts to grow in my shorts, not like my bros care.
I shake my package at them with my hand as I finish burping. Now that I’m in the frat I can show my bros that I’m not a fuckin’ prude like my dad and the other fuckin’ geezers. It’s gonna be a great year, now let’s go see which of these bitch pledges are Kappa material!
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pearsandrust · 1 month ago
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in honour of me deciding to appease my 2021 self by going to a genshin event this week, here's how i'd rewrite sumeru if i were given the chance. note that this is solely based off of the in-game themes and lore that i still remember, and i quit pretty early on. so. warning for canonical inaccuracy.
also, this is a traveller-less rewrite. i love aether/lumine, but i think their reputation as the "hero" often ends up taking away other characters' autonomy. the MC being capable of practically everything means that we don't get as many moments where other characters realize they have to step up. anyway, that's enough yapping. thoughts under the cut <3
PLOT
the general flow of the plot would be kept the same, but here's a list of points i want to include:
the sages don't imprison nahida by any physical means. instead, they take advantage of the fact that she's the first/central akasha terminal. the sheer volume of requests the sages send to the akasha causes her to be a) constantly overstimulated, therefore locking herself in the sanctuary of surasthana, and b) unable to use her mind for herself, which takes away her biggest source of power
another reason nahida is unable to communicate with the people is because the akasha is actively diminishing the population's cognitive capacities
the first person to realize that critical thinking is declining among the citizens of sumeru is, of course, alhaitham. he notices that a lot of people have stopped using figures of speech. instead, everyone seems to speak the same way, which he finds unsettling.
at the same time, the sages have enlisted kaveh to redesign the akademiya's buildings for "efficiency". that's right. they're making kaveh do minimalism. the horror ! the intrigue ! what did they do to get him to agree (i will cover this later when i talk about his character)
(this one is a WIP) as the manifestation of the withering in people, i'd want eleazar to have more notable psychological effects. distortion of memories/dreams would be my first instinct. since the withering is also linked to the remains of greater lord rukkhadevata, i think collei would be the first person to see irminsul and hear the words "world, forget me" (instead of the traveller).
i'd keep the samsara arc, but instead of having nilou host the dream, the host changes during every "reboot". the beep everyone hears at the end of the day isn't just the dream restarting, but also a confirmation that a new host has been found. of course, every person's dream would still have features unique to them. because i love kaveh, i'd like to write a dream hosted by him at some point -- with his dream's defining factor being that his parents are still in sumeru city.
the sages are still trying to make scaramouche a god btw.
i want the tale of king deshret's civilization and the introduction of forbidden knowledge to be basically lost history. it would be so interesting to have the characters wonder if the desert's mysterious machines hide the secret to defeating scara, only to eventually find out that the sages are just repeating deshret's sins. it would also be interesting to see people wish for deshret to return without knowing exactly why he fell in the first place
speaking of the desert, i'd like the conflict between the akademiya and the desert people to focus at least a little on the destruction of history in the pursuit of "progress". the sages are willing to overwrite the past whenever it's convenient for them, so there's no way they can be entrusted with the knowledge/culture of the desert. but then again, i'm actually not too sure why hoyo wrote the desert/forest conflict the way they did in the sumeru main story, so i could be missing something crucial here. let me know!
tying nahida's imprisonment to the akasha system does also mean that the cast needs to find a way to dismantle it before freeing her, which is something i haven't quite figured out yet (sigh). i was thinking of doing something along the lines of how alhaitham broke the hivemind in his story quest.
you know that theory that's like "nilou is the reincarnation of the goddess of flowers and [other character] is the reincarnation of deshret"? while i don't fully agree with it, i'd like to introduce some mechanism by which the main cast can draw power from the memories of those gods (perhaps using nahida as a conduit). memory is such a prominent motif in sumeru, and it would make such a perfect antithesis to how collei's eleazar was once suppressed using a dead god's remains, resulting in her having uncontrollable powers. useful powers through honouring the past vs terrible power through exploiting it. do you see the vision
CHARACTERS
okay, now for points relating to individual characters!
nahida
i don't have much to change about her personality, but here are a few points i'd like to add to her:
metaphors metaphors metaphors! i know she already speaks pretty metaphorically, but i don't want to just play it off for humour ("haha nahida why are you talking like that"). i want her to get weird and creative with them!! use symbols that people wouldn't expect !!
a core problem with nahida attempting to take control of sumeru again is that if the akasha has made everyone unable to learn for themselves, she can't really spread knowledge to the people. i think this could make for an incredibly interesting character arc. nahida initially tries to make herself seem more like an archon of wisdom and plays into the akademiya's stereotypes of wisdom/intelligence, using very specific language and explaining things literally to people (as the sages/traditional academics might do). in the end, she realizes that her personal style of teaching -- using fairy tales and stories as metaphors -- is far more effective
note: while the official lore doesn't confirm that rukkhadevata is the "ruler of yesterday and tomorrow morning" mentioned in one of the sumeru books, it's such a powerful idea that i'd like to make it the basis of her identity in this rewrite. it encapsulates the importance of memory -- how the past informs the future. this both connects back to irminsul and explains nahida's biggest weakness. she does not have nearly as much lived experience, and thus, she has less memories to draw power from.
kaveh
kaveh's my favourite genshin character, which is why this whole thing is a little biased towards him. but honestly, it's hoyo's fault for stating he's canonically the closest to nahida's ideal of wisdom and then not putting him in the story.
of all the sumeru characters, i feel like he'd be the most opposed to the akademiya defunding the arts and focusing solely on progress. in such an environment, i imagine that he'd feel like he never has enough time to process everything, which also plays into the concept of "debt". he feels like he owes the universe everything he has failed to preserve.
i'd like kaveh's mother to send him the occasional letter. in each one, she seems to get a little further from who she used to be, giving him the feeling that the past is slipping away. i want him to wish that he could stop or rewind time, and for this wish to eventually bring him to the orchard of pairidaeza (the time-stop place underneath the desert). i'm not entirely sure why -- i just think it would fit.
in a similar vein: the reason he agrees to help the akademiya redesign their buildings in a minimalist style is not because they offer him money, but because they threaten to destroy all the notebooks and papers his mother contributed to their library. you know, the last evidence that she was ever an architect.
alhaitham
hoo boy. alhaitham. while i love his current character, the sumeru story didn't really challenge him in any meaningful way. he kind of just. handled it all. and that's ... kind of disappointing? i'm not saying we should overstimulate him for sport or anything, but i'd try something like this:
have alhaitham be a parallel to scaramouche. NOW BEFORE YOU GUYS YELL AT ME. HEAR ME OUT
both alhaitham and scaramouche are heavily influenced by their respective pasts, but neither of them really acknowledge it. in scaramouche's case, he's actively trying to repress his memories. alhaitham is a bit different -- we know his grandmother had a big influence on him, but i cannot remember a single time that he has brought her up. i don't think he's actively trying to forget her, but i presume he usually just focuses on other things. at the beginning of the story, i'd characterize alhaitham as someone who usually neglects past issues in favour of current/future ones. he would think this is an efficient, more peaceful way to live. as the story progresses, he gradually realizes that neglecting the past is not a strength, but rather something that makes you more susceptible to repeating your previous mistakes.
he doesn't need to become excessively sappy or nostalgic to accomplish this. it would mostly happen through small, fleeting moments. for example, the sages get rid of some of the books in the house of daena because they're "old and redundant", and alhaitham realizes this makes him uncomfortable.
meanwhile, scaramouche becomes wrongly convinced that you can only be successful if you rid yourself of your past. even though both of them start with similar ideologies, they end up as vastly different characters. which would be !! so interesting !!
collei
COLLEI NATION !!! ILOVEHERILOVEHERILOVEHER.
collei is a perfect example of the importance of memory, if only because of how deeply she values amber. and the fact that she had to learn how to read after arriving in sumeru makes her a perfect addition to the story's exploration of language. also, the fact that her favourite stories are fairy tale picture books? which exactly aligns with how nahida prefers to tell stories? collei is the true main character of sumeru and none of you can tell me otherwise. i am dying on this hill
HEAR ME OUT. since there's no traveller, i want collei to be the one who defeats scaramouche in the end. there are a lot of more powerful characters, but her lore perfectly aligns with scara's. as an example, collei's doll (cuilein-anbar, named after amber) is a great parallel to the doll scaramouche's friend once made for him.
we can tell from collei's ascension voiceline (even if it's a life-or-death situation, i'll never need to rely on their power again) that she wants to develop her own set of skills; that way, she'll never need to call on the power that was sealed within her. this makes her a great character for the scaramouche fight. when the traveller does it, they use the knowledge of everyone in sumeru. similarly, we could see collei willingly learn different skills from different characters throughout the story. that way, it feels natural for her to tap into all of that knowledge during the climax -- just like aether/lumine does. do you see it. do you see the vision
candace
collectively we are sleeping on candace. this includes whoever wrote her character stories. they were also sleeping on candace.
like alhaitham, i'd also like candace to have a bit more of an internal struggle. her character stories don't offer us much ("candace was not depressed" -- ah. okay,,,?), but we do get the hint that she always has to have her guard up. she has to remain calm at all times. she can't really wear the cute trinkets she buys. i feel like there could be a really interesting conflict between her determination to protect everyone and her innate desire to be someone else.
there is a lot that candace can teach the other characters about language, which is a Core Sumeru Motif! the way she speaks in the story is actually really unique, given that people come to her for Divine Guidance TM. this could add to the ongoing idea that objective/academic language is not necessarily the best way to communicate with people.
dehya
not too much to say here -- her character works well as is!
i would lean a little more into the fact that she keeps returning to the desert, no matter what. this could directly conflict with her desire to obtain a position where she can help her loved ones live better lives. she wants them to break free of the restrictive mindset they've developed due to the harsh conditions of the desert. if she remains a mercenary, she may never have that sort of influence, but can she really tolerate working somewhere like the akademiya? this is especially interesting considering alhaitham asks her to join the akademiya himself at some point (IIRC).
i think she could have a really interesting friendship with nilou, though. they are vastly different people and yet they both have an appreciation for beauty. they both also want to live a carefree life. i think it would be so fun to see them bond, and we could have some cool scenes where they teach each other how to fight/dance :)
nilou
speaking of nilou,
i think it would be interesting to dive deeper into why the akademiya is defunding the arts. it could be because of their subjectivity, or because they don't really "advance the current state of knowledge" in sumeru. in any case, it would be fun to have the conflict stem from the sages' desire to intellectualize everything. it would definitely clash with nilou's carefree personality.
out of everyone, nilou would be most affected by the negative side effects of the akasha. it diminishes her creativity, leading her to feel burnt out. i would love to have an arc where nilou feels uninspired, but later realizes it's because her access to instantaneous knowledge has made her stop observing the world around her.
it would be really cool if nilou could see the aranara. for no particular reason tbh. i just think it fits her
unfinished characters: tighnari & cyno & faruzan & layla & sethos
i haven't read the lore for these characters, but if this idea ever comes to fruition, rest assured that they will be added :)
dori
no dori. i am so sorry dori fans but i genuinely do not know what to do with her. please enlighten me
scara
just one thing:
the dendro archon is the avatar of irminsul, which contains all the world's memories. this, in itself, is a form of "eternity". i imagine that's part of why he agreed to try and overtake nahida in the first place. it was another shot at holding onto "eternity".
aaaand that's it! that was such a long post. i'm never posting about genshin again (i say that every time i post about genshin). if anyone read the entire thing i love you.
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knight-dwx-09 · 5 months ago
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First Day As Developer
It was in the morning where Jaune was outside of his home.
Jaune: So… what should I do now to increase my level? I mean I can’t see my Level or experience like Ruby when I look through my stat
[Level and experience are only for the players Jaune had chosen]
Jaune: Then how do I grow stronger then if I can’t level up?
[The first way you can grow stronger is simply through training or fighting]
Jaune: I guess that make sense but I was expecting something interesting to become a hero… *murmur* you know, like consuming book for active and passive skills or items that boost my stat or grant me superpowers…
[Another way is by investing Point System into your stat. It could be seen below your stat menu]
Reading that, Jaune open his stat once again.
[System Point: 47]
Jaune: hmm… it say here I have 47 of it
[That is correct]
Jaune: And how do I use them?
[By pressing the stat you want to increase and press the up arrow or by thought of the stat you want to increase and the amount you want to it to increased]
Jaune then look at the stat, searching for the lowest one and it was his INT, something he wasn’t proud of, and add 1 point.
[INT: 5 -> 6]
[System Point: 47 -> 37]
Jaune: That took ten to increase just one… And I don’t think I get any smatter…
[While the difference between 1 point isn’t that different for Jaune to noticed. I assure you there’s a margin boost in your intelligence]
Jaune: Okay, I will trust you on that. Anyway, how do I get more of the system point?
[By slaying enemies or change the story]
Jaune: Story? What story are you talking about?
[System level is too low to provide the answer]
Jaune: Okay, that lines is getting super annoying to read. I guess I should go hunting a Grimm… now…
Jaune just stand there, Shaking a bit as the memories of him almost dying when he save his twin sister thank to a Beowolf.
[Are you certain on that Jaune? I detect an increase in your heartbeat and respiratory rate, Pupil dilation, and tremors. You are showing a signs of distress and fear]
Jaune: Y-yeah… I am fine… I mean what kind of a hero who is scared of fighting Grimm… Y-yup, I am not scared at all
[…]
Jaune: Dad is out patrolling around the village and mom is at home. And my sisters are just at home as well, studying or playing games, or visiting their friend’s home for a sleepover. And I already told them that I will out visiting a friend… They won’t be worried if I come home late… yeah, I can do this
[…]
Jaune: I-i… I can do this…
He tried to move, forcing his trembling legs to just take a single step forward to prove to himself, but his body didn’t listen to him as the sounds of heartbeat fill his ears.
Jaune: c-come o-on… what are yo-you doing? Isn’t this what you wanted? To be a h-hero? Then what are you so afraid of?
[Jaune… it’s alright to admit that you are afraid]
Jaune: No! I am not afraid!
[Yes you are]
Jaune: I’M NOT!
[It is fine to feel such a thing since it’s a normal thing to have, even heroes have their own fear]
Jaune: No they don’t! A hero should not have any fears at all when they fight Grimms or struggle to defeat them! They have to be brave and strong to protect people and make them feel save!… *head hung low and Whispered* I should have been more braver and stronger… maybe then… my family won’t be scared for me and believe in me…
He reminder himself once again of the scars on his back, how he stood there as the Beowolf slowly approaching Jeanne and only move at the last moment to save her. How he almost died and frightening his whole family because he was too weak to take care of himself.
[Jaune, this isn’t a fairly tale where the heroes can fight with their lives including everyone’s else at stakes without being anxious or scared. They are still a human in the end not matter how much they tried to hide it from everyone. Sometimes they are afraid, sad, angry, and happy… just like you]
Jaune:…
[Despite of your fear at the thought of fighting Grimm and know that you are too weak, you are willing to risk your life to be the hero for everyone around you. And that make you brave precisely because you are scared but still choosing to fight for their behalf, that is an admirable strength of a hero]
Jaune:…
[It doesn't matter if you have the power to defeat everyone or change the world. It won't do anything to protect everyone if you don't have the heart to do it. But to me, you already have it]
Jaune: Do you really believe in me? *Look up to the screen with hopeful gaze* You think I can become a hero as well?
[Absolutely]
His eyes widen at the words, couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His sisters, parents, even Jaune himself only have doubt on him even since he woke up after his encounter with a Grimm, but they didn’t. And it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t know how or what they are, cause “Luna” was the only one to put faith in him.
Jaune: …Thanks… *Smiling a bit* for the comforting words and believing in me…
[No problem, Jaune. After all, You are my Developer and it’s my purpose to aid you in anyway]
[Furthermore, Jaune have the system by his side to assist him to achieve the necessary strength to be a hero]
Jaune: Yeah… and I am grateful to have you… Luna…
[Luna?]
Jaune: oh, *embarrassed a bit* it’s a name I come up for you. Pretty sure Luna means the moon or something similar. I got it because I remember staring the moon when you first appeared… You don’t like the name?
[No]
[I appreciate the name you have given to me, Jaune]
Smiling a bit after reading that, Jaune look towards the woods with determination clear in his eyes until he realize something.
Jaune: Shoot, I don’t have any weapon on me. I guess I need to sneak back house quietly and grab a weapon or something *Walk away in embarrassment*
[Just a reminder]
[You are able to give a quest and the reward to the player anytime]
[In the case of the players fail to fulfill the condition of your guest, Jaune is able to provide them with a punishment]
[Warning: The reward will consumed the system point for the benefit of the player but it will generated system point whether they managed to complete it or not]
Jaune: Oh, almost forgot about Ruby, I wonder what kind of quest I should give to her
After a moment of standing there, considering what kind of stuff he could make this girl, named Ruby, do. Then an idea hit him as a mischievous smile tugs at his lip.
Jaune: Okay Luna, could you give this to Ruby as her first quest?
He doesn’t have to say it out loud for Luna to know what he was thinking.
[Understood]
[Giving the player “Ruby” a Quest]
Meanwhile
Ruby was on her bed, staring her stat profile with a pout.
Ruby: Stupid Dad… stupid Yang… I really did have blue screen in front of me…
[You have received a Quest]
Ruby: *sits up* Oh, my first quest! I wonder what it is?
[Quest: The Veggie Vanquisher]
[One must face their greatest adversaries and challenges to become a hero, including those lurking on their dinner plates, Vegetables. So go forth young hero! Prove your bravery and courage by consuming every last bit of it without any help]
[Objective: Eat a plate of veggie without anything else]
[Time: 02:59:55]
[Reward: +5 stat points]
[Punishment: If you fail to complete this noble quest, the system shall declare you… "The Tiny Veggie Villain!" For the next 24 hours, all system messages will refer to you as such. Additionally, your favorite “snacks” may mysteriously "disappear" until you redeem yourself!]
Ruby sat there, eyes unblinking and not moving an inch. Anyone who see her will probably think she was dead or frozen in time if not for the occasional rise and drop of her chest when she’s breathing.
Then a feminine voiced could be heard, shouting a bit.
Summer: Ruby! Breakfast is ready! Could you be nice girl and wake up your sister?
But Ruby didn’t answered.
Worried, Summer opened the door slowly and enter the room.
Summer: Ruby? Sweetie? *Kneel down* What’s wrong?
Ruby: *Hug her mother while sniffling a bit* The blue screen told me to eat my green… or it will take my cookies away from me…
Summer: Huh? *Looking around and see nothing* There, there sweetie. The blue screen won’t hurt or take your cookies away from you
However, Summer was extremely confused what was going on and remember what Tai had asked her yesterday.
Summer: Did I really put something into my own cookies without knowing?
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tokiro07 · 6 months ago
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Ichi the Witch ch.18 thoughts
[Oh What a Feelin' When We're Fightin' on the Ceilin']
(Topics: character analysis - Desscaras/World Hater, speculation)
Oh yeah, baby, this is what I've been waiting for!!! Now this is a ceiling battle!!!
Where Ichi needed to literally knock himself out just to take out the first wave of World Hater's Lancemen, Desscaras was able to do the exact same thing casually AND with style
Iskandar is an absolutely sick Magik design, both beautiful and terrifyingly nonhuman, and it's clearly not even Desscaras' strongest move! She's playing with World Hater, aiming to humiliate and torture him while she systematically searches out his trial, so there's no way her opener is her best move, especially when you consider it doesn't tie into her title as the Abyssal Witch
I said a while ago that Monegold's summary of Togeice was more tell than show and that it didn't really give a good impression of just how skilled Togeice really was since Nishi didn't provide a frame of reference. This chapter, though, is a very effective case of show-don't-tell, as we get a direct comparison between Desscaras, Ichi, World Hater, and even Togeice
Tipping the Powerscales
Togeice was stated to have 16 acquisitions to her name, which, without an established average, must be assumed to be a pretty high number, certainly above average. It was stated in such a way that it didn't seem like Togeice was a record holder, more like a reasonable deviation or two from the mean
Desscaras, on the other hand, when asked directly how many Magiks she's acquired, simply states "who knows? Lost count." Not only does this mirror World Hater's nonchalant dismissal of how many humans he's killed, but it illustrates both Desscaras' skill and her mentality regarding it
As she says this, we can see twenty-five magic stones floating around her, thirty if we assume the ones on her scabbard didn't join the rest. She has Togeice beat by at least nine, but the implication is that there are more we still aren't seeing
And to Desscaras, this is perfectly natural
She's the best, after all. The world's greatest, most powerful Witch. Why wouldn't she have a ton of acquisitions to her name? For her, acquiring a Magik isn't even a source of pride anymore, it's just another rock to add to the pile
If my read here is correct, then that goes back to what I said back in ch.2: Witches don't respect Magiks as sentient beings. If not for the fact that she needs to do so in order to use a spell, Desscaras doesn't seem the type to remember the name of a defeated foe, at least not with how she's presenting herself here
As I see it, this could lead to two very interesting angles. Either Desscaras represents everything that's wrong with the current Witch system, or...
This is a bluff
Poker Face
As I've stated repeatedly, World Hater is an actively dispassionate individual, going out of their way to hide their expressions and executing their goals without emotional investment. When Desscaras cites that World Hater destroyed her home, World Hater retorts that her emotions are worthless, as they nihilistically view the world as destined to fade into nothingness
This is a hilarious thing for the World Hater to say, since they explicitly include "hatred" in that list of worthless emotions, but again, they've never referred to themselves as World Hater, that's just a name that Mantinel gave them
Anyway, Desscaras' detached ignorance of her own accomplishments perfectly mirrors World Hater's ignorance to their own atrocities, which could either be a way to show how similar the two of them are or an explicit dig at World Hater's attitude meant to evoke a response
If the former, then Desscaras is a negative role model for Ichi, one that he needs to surpass to prove that he is correct for how he values life. If the latter, and Desscaras reveals that she does, in fact, know exactly how many Magiks she's acquired and remembers all of their names, faces, personalities, trials, etc., then we'll know that she's not the strongest Witch just because she has the most acquisitions, but because of the dedication and care she put into every single one
Either way, her taunt in this moment makes her feel every bit as powerful as she's been purported to be and then some
And World Hater definitely feels it too
Time To Get Serious
The fact that World Hater has been pushed far enough to be concerned with how many Magiks Desscaras has acquired is already proof enough that they acknowledge her strength, but even without that, it should be clear that she has the power to back up the threat that she's going to take her time experimenting
After all, she's leagues above Ichi
As Desscaras said, Ichi was able to earn World Hater's direct attention with one spell. If World Hater truly didn't view Ichi as a potential threat, they would have just let him fall into the forest and be trampled by the Lancemen without paying him any heed
Instead, they deliberately lift Ichi back up, with the intention of warping him with their own hands. How else could they be absolutely sure that he's dead?
Again, if Ichi could register as a future threat, then Desscaras must register as an immediate threat. And if that's true, then there's no way that World Hater is going to just let her have her way. No, if she wants their trial, she's gonna have to earn it
However, there is one flaw in Desscaras' premise: she believes that World Hater tried to kill Ichi out of fear, but we know better. We saw World Hater's smile last week: they were excited that someone might be able to figure out their trial, they just had to suppress that feeling to focus on the task at hand
With Desscaras, though? They're not going to be able to afford to be casual about this. World Hater is going to need to put their everything into this fight: both their power and their emotions
This chapter was all about giving Desscaras her shine, the Good News phase, but next chapter? It's World Hater's turn: the Bad News phase
I don't think Desscaras is going to die here, but she's not acquiring the World Hater either. No, World Hater is going to show us just how Big of a Bad they intend to be, and what we're going to have to look forward to down the line
Until next time, let's enjoy life!
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ajastu · 2 months ago
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Ok here we go. On the topic of the overstated significance of the evil choices present in the DA games.
DISCLAIMER this is purely my personal opinion and isn't intended as a serious analysis or anything like that. just exploring my own thoughts on the topic👍
also another mini disclaimer. i will be honest my dai replay is at a standstill, and i dont want to go thru like 100 hours of gameplay just for a simple post. if anyone remembers dai better than i do feel free to contribute to the discussion etc etc
With that out of the way.
So here’s my hot take. I do not think that a DA game absolutely NEEDS to give you the option to do some atrocities. That is not what inherently makes them RPG games, or Dragon Age™ games.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I'm not arguing that these options shouldn't be in the games. My main point is that their absence is not as terrible as people like to say it is.
Of course, the more options there are, the more types of player character you can develop. And I’m an OC guy, i love that shit, i get it. But i also tend to make the same damn choices in each of my playthroughs, and that hasn’t stopped me from developing several very different protagonists for DAO alone. 
The power to make a compelling character does not lie solely in the options the game provides you. It also lies in this thing called ‘imagination’. But i digress.
Thing is, mostly the cruel options don't really contribute anything special to the narrative. There are no real consequences in the overall arc of the game. The Warden is still going to save Ferelden. Hawke is still going to be the Champion, and is still going to defeat Meredith. The Inquisitor is still going to seal the breach and kill Corypheus.
You have some consequences re: companions, but that's about it. You cannot FAIL because of the choices you make.
And, another hot take? I think that playing a cruel character in DA is actually less interesting/compelling than playing a kind one. 
It is easy to be cruel or indifferent in the shoes of the Warden/Hawke/the Inquisitor. It makes things more straightforward, less complicated. It is much harder to be kind, to be hurt each time you fail to save someone, and persevering anyway. 
I think what a lot of people who argue that ‘kindness doesn’t mean much if you don’t have a choice not to give it’ miss, is that kindness does not need to come in the same package every time. There are many ways to be kind, and for it to shape you. Kindness absolutely has value and complexity on it’s own.
BUT. That is me taking a detour. Let’s get back on point. 
And to do that, let’s talk about the first Dishonored game. There will be spoilers.
For those who don’t know, Dishonored has a chaos system that is affected by how many people the protagonist, Corvo, kills during the game. The more you kill, the higher the chaos rises. It starts affecting gameplay, too: more guards, more corpses in the street, more disease and more infected. The city reacts to your actions. Violence breeds more violence, and at the end it all but forces your hand to keep killing.
On the other hand, you have low chaos. It is possible to go through the game without killing a single person, even the main targets you need to eliminate to advance the plot. The less death there is, the less the city itself suffers.
On the surface, this is kind of very straightforward. Killing bad, the game says. 
But let’s look at one of the non-lethal options the game offers. 
First target. High Overseer Campbell, the head of the main religious organization of the Dh setting. Despite holding this position, the man is rotten to the core (or, perhaps, it is exactly why he holds this position). He blackmails, he kills, he conspires. Killing him is the right thing to do. And if you don’t care about all that moral stuff, killing him is going to be revenge. 
For the non-lethal elimination, however, you can brand him as a heretic. By quite literally burning the heretic brand onto his face. 
It leads to him becoming a total outcast, because even offering food to him is counted as a crime. You meet him later in the game as a weeper - someone so far in the plague stages, he is practically a zombie. 
But! That is not all. 
I once wanted to do a playthrough where i only kill the main targets. I killed Campbell, all was well. 
At the start of the next mission, there was an announcement throughout the city about the passing of their beloved High Overseer Campbell, who was a righteous man taken from this world too early- and other such nonsense. 
And i couldn’t do it. I reloaded the game and branded that motherfucker instead. 
If you kill him, he does not suffer. He is remembered fondly. 
If you ‘spare’ him, he suffers for months before succumbing to the plague, and his crimes and rotten nature are revealed to the city. 
So, the message isn’t as simple as ‘killing bad’, after all. There’s nuance here. 
And, most importantly. One of the things that i love about Dishonored’s handling of the chaos system and how it contributes to the gameplay and the overall narrative.
Is the fact that Corvo can fail. 
In the high chaos ending, if you don’t do it carefully, Emily, THE person Corvo is supposed to save and protect, can die. Corvo fails. The one thing that was the goal of the game, and he can fail. 
There’s way more nuance to Dishonored as a whole that i am NOT going to get into right now, or else we will be here all day. But my point here is, compared to that narrative significance of cruel/kind choices? DA could never compare. 
What happens if you take away the chaos system in Dh? The game becomes a shell of itself. Everything complex or interesting is immediately gone.
What happens if you take away the cruel OR the kind options in each of the DA games? Nothing much, really. The story stays largely the same. You just get there in slightly different ways. 
Of course, comparing Dishonored to DA is kind of an unfair thing to do. The genres are different, for one. The approach to continuity in the following games is different, too (with Dh using it's own canon for the sequel, while DA has to account for player choices). 
But i used that comparison mainly to illustrate that the significance of the cruel options in DA is…really overblown. 
The choices they offer are not complex. It’s easy to understand which is the morally better option: sell people into slavery or Not Do That. It’s not a grey choice, it’s pretty black and white. 
Genocide a people for the benefit of another or broker peace between them? Ohhh what a hard moral dilemma. 
Kill a lot of innocent people just in casies or come to their defense? Hmmm, however can i tell which one is the morally good choice here��.
I can’t say that no one should ever enjoy playing the villain in an RPG game, nor do i want to say that. Go, be free, do whatever you want! I am also not saying that DA games are made worse by the presence of these choices. 
What i AM saying is that a lot of people mistake the mere presence of cruelty for complexity, and that Veilguard not having cruel choices (besides that one with the mayor i guess) does not make it less of a dragon age game than the other three. 
I love DA, i really do. Fucking. Look at my blog. 
But they’re just games, at the end of the day. They’re flawed, and some of them really don’t age well. But each one of them was made by people who care about the setting, the series, and the story being told in each game. You can feel that care as you play. So, what makes a dragon age game…a dragon age game? It’s not the cruelty available, that’s for sure.
I don’t know how coherent my point with this post is. My eyes kind of hurt so that definitely isn’t helping me concentrate. I think it’s silly to uphold the presence of cruelty as THE hallmark of a series, or what makes a good game. Sometimes it’s not about the cruelty. Sometimes it’s about people, and perseverance. 
Maybe one day I will actually go through the games with a fine tooth comb and make a proper analysis. But other people probably did that already, and better than i could.
At the end of the day, everyone has their own opinions and preferences. But these? These are MY onions <3 🧅🧅
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bluebirdinhissky · 9 months ago
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A best friend’s duty is to help you overcome your fears.
Hyunjin x Y/N.
I didn’t expect this to turn into a series but I feel like it should be this way. Also, sorryyy! I know I’m so late in the timelines because tbh I thought about this when they were going to Australia but somehow whenever I tried to write I would be blocked. I apologize for grammar mistakes. Thank you everyone who has been reading so far, really thank you.
*
Hyunjin already knew she would say NO. “I’d rather die than set foot in Hell on Earth”, she would probably say (Hell on Earth = Australia). He’d hear her say how it’s the one place where every nightmare-ish creature could crawl out in your bedroom, bathroom, street, beach or basically just everywhere you were and kill you. “I rather not die from a spider bite or simply touching a leaf”, she’d say. He would sometimes like to tease her about her aversion towards Australia, but this time he was about asking her to join him and the guys for their shows there.
He asked Felix and Chan for help. He asked them to talk wonders about their country to her, and they would do so with a passion that would make anyone want to travel there as soon as possible, but not her. It didn’t matter how many times they told her she would most likely never even get to see a spider the size of her hands just roaming around the city. Hyunjin was starting to feel defeated.
One cloudy night, Hyunjin was feeling anxious. He started to paint to relax but he kept being unhappy with the results. He sighed and threw his brushes to the side. He stood up and made his way to the roof of the apartment. He had a spot to sit down and look at the city lights whenever he felt like it, and that night he just wanted to feel the cool breeze on his face.
He was a bit surprised to find the spot wasn’t empty. SHE was there, a startled look on her face.
“You scared me”
“Am I that ugly?. Beastie, what are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t sleep”
Hyunjin reached her side and sat down beside her. The city lights from downtown’s skyscrapers were dim, semi-hidden behind a thin fog that made the scenery look like out of a movie.
“Are you okay?”, he asked after a few seconds.
“Yes, I think I just had too much coffee. Are you okay?”
“Yes” he smiled softly and lingered his gaze on the buildings far away. She noticed and looked intently at them too. Silence followed for a couple of minutes, where she leaned her head down to Hyunjin’s shoulders and he wrapped his arm around her. He felt his heart racing and hoped those moments could last forever.
“Can you imagine” she broke the silence with her soft voice, almost as if she was talking to herself only “what would we do if we were looking at those buildings and suddenly a Godzilla sized creature showed up?”
Hyunjin snorted.
“Well, beastie, I think we would be doomed. And we would spend our last moments together”
“What if the creature doesn’t come this way. We just see everything from far”
“We’d still be doomed”
“That’s scary”, she said hiding her face in his chest.
“Come now, aren’t you the one who loves Godzilla?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s not scary”
“Speaking about scary stuff…” Hyunjin cleared his throat “I want you to come to Australia with me. With us I mean…”
“Hyunjin…” she rolled her eyes.
“I know, I know, “spiders the size of my hand”, I promise you, most places have pest control systems”
“Hyunjin…”
Hyunjin gave her his best puppy eyes.
“Pleaseeee beastie”, he was now being playfully dramatic “I can’t live without you”
“What if I DO see a spider and I get bitten and I die?”
“You won’t die. And if you do, I’ll catch the same spider and get bitten too”
“Calm down, Romeo”, she laughed and he laughed too. There was a bit of silence after that.
“Well. Let’s do this: let’s sleep together” he smirked “I mean sleep in the same room. We take turns sleeping”. She sighed.
“You promise you’ll keep me safe?”
“I promise” he said softly.
“Fine. I’ll go with you to Hell”
He made a fist to the sky as sign of victory and then hugged her hard.
Maybe his plans to confess were finally on the right path.
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ayanominitrash · 2 years ago
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Act Cool, Senpai! (Geto Suguru x reader)
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₊˚ ♡
Geto-san falls for his dearest kouhai.
⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖
4th Entry. First part here. Fifth Part here. Masterlist. 
˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖
Today was the day Geto realized he’d fallen for you. 
The moment of understanding was sudden, like getting his head submerged in cold water - earning him clarity when he finally pulled his head up from it; his head empty, only the feeling of exhilaration in his veins remained for the time being. Indeed, the second he came to terms with his feelings, it was a shock in his system, but it wasn’t a surprise. 
His overwhelming feelings built up from the second he saw you materialize your weapon from across the stadium, swinging it to exorcise curses in your way, Haibara by your side. There was a bit of hesitancy in your movements - the mannerisms of a rookie, but you still managed to stay elegant in the way you weaved through the chairs as you chased the curses, but harsh enough to not be afraid to get a few tears in your uniform, either from the cursed spirit’s attacks or just from bumping into places. How his heart longs for you, trying to get closer to you during this mission. He also loves the way your eyes lock on to each other unintentionally of the two times you two ran into each other looking for more curses, exchanging soft smiles before walking on by. 
Geto knowingly smiles to himself when the adrenaline of his feelings dies down, gradually descending into contentment and calmness when the once-disturbed freezing waters of his soul finally stills.
“Why are you smiling to yourself? Have you lost it?” 
Gojo approaches him near the railings, hands on hips after just killing a curse behind him that’s now dissipating in thin air. “There’s nothing to smile about - the curtain is still up so we’re still missing a curse or a few.”
“Is the Gojo Satoru worried for the first time?” He smirks up at his classmate while summoning his cursed spirit back to him, having just defeated a cursed spirit himself. “Is it because of the number of people that will soon be here?”
“No, I’m hungry and sleepy.” 
“Ah - of course.”
The two of them started talking about lunch - Gojo adamant that the Juniors treat their seniors, Geto saying it’s the other way around - when you and the others join them in the stands that are in the middle part of the arena.
“The veil is still up,” Haibara says once he’s within earshot. “It looks like we’ve got all of them though, since we’ve swept the entire place.”
“Not yet, my six eyes can still pick up a few curses nearby but I can’t exactly pinpoint it with how vast this place is.”
“Well,” Nanami starts, palming his blunt cursed tool,” is there a place that particularly has a majority of curse energy?” 
Gojo closes his eyes and puts a hand to his chin, contemplating, “My brain’s a little foggy, I can’t focus because I’m sleep-deprived and a little worn out.” He holds out a hand to you, “Prove yourself useful? Lend me some of that RCT.”
Geto’s shoulders tense up - does Gojo get to hold your hand before he even could?
How does he even stop it from happening without seeming suspicious? Without jeopardizing the mission? 
You dematerialize your weapon into nothingness before clutching the ends of your uniform, “G-Gojo-san, I t-thought I’d just hold you all back?”
Everyone looks at you dumbfounded. You’re clearly holding a grudge against your senior.
“Oh please. Don’t be butthurt. Isn’t this the very thing you’re here for? I’m throwing you a bone here.” 
You cross your arms this time, about to open your mouth but the next thing you know, you’re screaming at the top of your lungs as a large cursed spirit worm suddenly manifests itself from the arena’s roof and lunges at you, tearing you away from the group and across the room. Panic, Geto launches his spirit toward the attacker, and at the very same time, Gojo releases a lapse blue in the same direction. Much to Geto’s dismay, his summoned cursed spirit got caught in Gojo’s attack, exorcising it as well as your attacker.
The veil disappears.
Haibara and Nanami quickly ran towards you as you hit the wall across the venue, letting out a pained grunt before falling onto the ground. Gojo was going to offer his apology to his classmate but Geto was already sprinting your way.
“Are you okay?!” Haibara asks as he and Nanami pull you up by your arms. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
“I’m fine,” You shrug them off of you, annoyed and embarrassed, patting your uniform.
Suddenly, Geto catches up to you and puts his large hands on your shoulders, eyes frantic and all over you, checking if you garnered any injuries. “Hey, are you alright? Did it hurt you?”
You freeze for a moment, mind still taking in how your beloved senior looks so worried for you. If you weren’t so ashamed of how you were caught off-guard by the cursed spirit just now, you’d be swooning. “Just a few scratches, Geto-san. I can heal myself.” You try to calm him with a smile, but his worried expression isn’t letting up.
“You should forget about staying on the field.”
Gojo butts in between the two of you, like he always does. “Imagine if it were only you juniors just now.”
“Satoru, it’s done. The curse has been exorcised.” Geto holds a hand up when his classmate stops right in front of you, face to face. 
The tall man ignores him, “Do you understand? You should stay in Jujustu High - you’re just too weak for this.” 
Haibara nervously bows beside him, “Gojo-san, this is understood! We’ll definitely train harder - “
“I’m not talking about you now, am I?”
“No…Gojo-san…”
“Satoru,” Geto says.
What are you thinking right now? He thinks. 
Geto watches your glassy eyes look straight to your confronting senior, an angry look on your face before it eventually crumbles into a guilty one. You look down at your shoes and bow, “I apologize, Gojo-san.”
With that, you went running.
Haibara calls you out, ready to chase after you but Nanami holds him back with a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry, there aren’t any more curses.”
Geto frowns at his classmate, who only gives him a shrug.
“I’ll go check if she’s okay,” He finally says. “You guys can inform the managers.”
“Geto-san, we can - “
Nanami quickly covers Haibara’s mouth. “Understood, Geto-san. Please get back safely.” 
“Hey, Suguru - what about lunch?!“
₊˚ ♡
It wasn’t long before Geto found you.
You were sitting in one of the outside seats of a convenience store, rapidly typing into your little phone - probably ranting to Shoko with the way your face is contorted in a precious little frown. Despite all of the events that have happened so far and his weariness starting to seep into his bones, he can’t help but chuckle to himself.
You look up and jump in your seat as the very subject of your conversation with Shoko helps himself with sitting from across the table. You close your phone.
“Geto-san…”
He beams, “I thought you’d make it harder for me to find you.”
“Ah…To be honest, I thought Haibara would come after me.”
“So, you’ve noticed, huh?”
“He’s always like that.” 
“He’s a good kid, always looking out for others.”
You hum in agreement, then look down to twiddle with your fingers. “I-I’ve noticed you too, Geto-san.”
He paused, before huffing out a chuckle that leaves your heart doing 360s, “I’m not exactly subtle, am I?”
You try to stifle a giggle before fiddling with the hem of your shirt, “No. But I am honored G-Geto-san, to be receiving your, um, attention.”
Silence fills the air between the two of you, and it stays like that for a while. Both of you people-watch, eyes squinting against the bright light now that the sun was high up in the sky. When you take a peek at your senior, you catch him already looking at you, before the both of you look back to watching the bustling streets. 
“I hope you don’t hold too much of a grudge against Satoru,” Geto starts, “He can be, well, blunt,  but I’m sure it’s his way of looking out for you.”
“...I know. It’s more that, I’m…angry at myself.” 
“What is there to be angry about?”
You stare at your hands. “Geto-san, I became a Jujutsu Sorcerer not for some heroic reason or out of the goodness of my heart, but to really leave the place I used to live in.” 
He looks at you from the corner of his eye, “You’re angry because that’s your reason?”
“No, I’m not really looking for some kind of self-fulfillment. Jujutsu gave me a new home and new people in my life. I’m just hoping to be useful while I’m here, to somewhat give back. But…earlier, hearing Gojo-san say those words…am I even doing it -  am I supposed to be here? Who am I to think that any different from one of the strongest in this generation?”
Geto watches your sullen face as you continue to stare down at your hands and notices how he can see contentment in your features and your posture like your whole body has submitted to his classmate's words back there. 
A thought.
Then, “Well, if it means something, I’m one of the strongest, and I think you’re pretty great.”
You whip your head in his direction, eyes wide with a red tint across your cheeks.
There’s the cutie I’ve known, Geto thought.
You keep staring at him before shaking your head with a smile, “You’re always too nice, Geto-san. Even going far as to say things just for my sake.”
“But I’m serious.” He shifts his attention to the birds perched on one of the street lamps. “Gojo is different from us - he was raised to be who he is now. He was destined to be a sorcerer, so he was able to start training from a very young age. Meanwhile, we’re here trying to catch up.” The two of you lock eyes, “Remember, you’re still in your freshman year - you’re just starting your true journey to become a Jujutsu Sorcerer. And well, I didn’t always think that sorcerers existed to protect the non-sorcerers. They recruited me from my small village, and I’ve got no reason to say no.”
“You always seem the type to be so kind and motivated though, Geto-san. So when you said about the thing about protecting normal people, I always thought that was your ideal from the get-go.” 
“No, it was something I’ve come to terms with as I’ve started my path as a shaman. You’ll eventually find your own meaning along the way of the journey you’ve chosen. You and I are not that different.”
The both of you exchanged soft smiles. Your Geto-san reaches a hand out to you, “So if you’re going to listen to the words of one of the two strongest, believe in mine.”
You look at his hand, noting how there’s a subtle swell in them. Probably from constantly fighting curses. You take his large hands in both of yours and start to heal him, much to his surprise, missing how his cheeks are painted in bright red which mellows out to a peaceful grin.
Geto was certain, that this was the day he has truly fallen for you.
“Thank you, Geto-san.” 
₊˚ ♡ - - - -
Meanwhile. . .
“How come you didn’t tell me sooner, Nanami?! Geto-san must hate me for shutting down his advances - I’m such an idiot!” Nanami only shrugs next to him, taking a bite of his bread as he’s seated next to him at a cafe. “What are you guys talking about?” Gojo asks wide-eyed and a mouthful of food.
˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖
(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated//do not repost my work anywhere
//
I appreciate how a lot of ya’ll liked this series <3 thank you as always and happy leaks day :))) 
***Drop an ask or comment to be added on taglist bc I don’t want to assume and tag you even though I see you following the serious huhuhuhu: @dookiemeshibear @pochapo
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hopefulmuffins · 3 months ago
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I have conflicting feelings about the most recent To Be Hero X episode. But I feel like that was the point. Spoilers for episode 4 underneath the cut.
I wasn't hyped when Lin Ling started getting cheered on by the public. All I could think is that he was falling into the same trap all the other heroes fell into.
Like, the few origin stories we've had so far show them having a true moment of heroism, a moment where they genuinely wanted to save people. But it was after they went public and gained the 'trust' of the people did he truly gain enough strength to defeat God's eye. Essentially trapping him into the people's will all over again. Soon enough they will start to shape who he will be and what he can do because he won't be able to do what he did that day without the power trust gives.
Then there's the fact that someone else was spurring on God's Eye. He was given the means from an outside force to go up against 'Nice' and expose him. But it's bittersweet if you think about it because he exposed someone who he wasn't truly aiming for. The wrong Nice. Plus, it's been shown that a lot of the big baddies and moments are manufactured by the companies that run the city, every hero and villain has been monetized to some degree and the head corporations are the ones keeping this hero business alive. Both Lin Ling and God's eye are victims of the same system. Just from two different view sides of it. It just felt a bit like someone knew that Lin Ling had the capacity to realize that he could shed the 'Nice' persona by just deciding to go back to being himself, but didn't want the lost revenue that the 'Nice' franchise would lose them. So they found a way to entrap him more fully into said system to eliminate potential loopholes for his freedom. After all he still put on a show. Can a good deed done with an audience be truly heroic?
And the fact that he claims that it was moon that made him want to be a hero, made him want to give up his life for her was very... parasocial of him. He only recently got to know who moon is and even then I feel like he wasn't paying as much attention to who she was. Like no offense but I wouldn't be myself if I was forced into captivity with someone I was slated to marry for public clout. Plus it was only a month in a sterile environment. Him being willing to die for her with no regard for himself made me a bit sad. But he comes off as a very lonely individual who idealized Moon whether he realized it or not. And honestly that was probably used against him as well.
The fact that moon got what she wanted in the most literal sense feels like she was being punished. Like, you wanted to have your 'freedom' and to be 'left alone' well here you go you ungrateful bitch. We gave you everything and now we will give you exactly what you wanted. She was expecting to go back to a type of luxury she didn't realize she profited from and was met with the absence of both physical and emotional comforts. She ended up being trapped in a completely different way. Hate that she died, but I find it very interesting that she died in the same way that he had that vision of her. I'm not sure what purpose her death serves yet, but I am intrigued to see where it goes.
Maybe the whole hero schtick is a huge façade to keep the public from paying attention to the true villains. I'd argue a whole system dedicated around manufacturing scenarios to keep the people feeling 'safe' in their everyday lives is a great distraction. Don't you?
Sorry, I feel like there is just so much to dissect here and I'm a pretty stupid person so maybe this isn't ground breaking analysis. But I just like putting my thoughts out there and see if anyone else can add better/more context.
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fromrory · 5 months ago
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Exam Storm !
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1K words~
Fluff!
— Jason Grace x Fem reader!!
— Established relationship
Warnings: none?
Requested by: @simpingmyassoff
Sorry it’s kind off bad lol,tomorrow i will revise it again. I wanna sleep SO BAD
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Final exams were the academic equivalent of war at Camp Half-Blood. Sure, there weren’t any monsters chasing you down with the intent to devour you, but after ten hours of studying, anyone could argue that they’d rather face a dracaenae army instead.
And right now, you were locked in a death battle with your Ancient History textbook—specifically, with a page full of facts that refused to stay in your brain.
“I’m going to fail. I just know it. I’m doomed.” You let your head fall against the table with a dramatic thud, shutting your eyes in despair.
Jason, sitting across from you, propped his elbows on the wooden surface of the library table, watching you with that amused smile that always made you nervous.
“You’re not going to fail,” he said with the confidence of someone who had never scored below an A in his life.
You shot him a glare from your position of utter defeat.
“Oh, really? And how do you know? Can you see the future now? Did Zeus grant you the gift of prophecy as a special bonus for being his favorite son?”
Jason chuckled and shook his head.
“No, but I do know you’ve spent the entire week studying. You’re more dedicated than half the camp combined, and besides…” He leaned forward slightly, wearing that relaxed confidence that always short-circuited your brain. “You’re amazing.”
Your face instantly heated up, but you refused to be distracted so easily.
“Jason.” You looked at him seriously. “This is serious. My grade depends on this. My future depends on this. What if I fail? What if I end up flipping nectar-burgers at the camp canteen because I never managed to pass this class?”
Jason tried to keep a straight face, but the term nectar-burgers made him burst out laughing.
“That doesn’t sound so bad. Would I get a discount for being your boyfriend?”
You rolled your eyes and let your forehead drop against the table again.
“I can’t believe I’m dating someone who finds my suffering funny.”
Still smiling, Jason got up and moved to sit beside you.
“Come here.”
Before you could protest—knowing he was about to try and distract you with cuddles or kisses, which was completely unfair because he knew you had zero resistance—he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and picked up your book with his other hand.
“Let’s try this differently.” He flipped to the page you had been struggling with. “Tell me which part is giving you trouble.”
You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to win this battle.
“The whole chapter on the Trojan War.”
Jason nodded seriously.
“Alright, let’s make it interesting. I’ll explain it to you, but for every correct answer you give, you win a prize.”
You eyed him suspiciously.
“What kind of prize?”
He smirked playfully.
“Surprise.”
“I don’t know if that’s motivating or terrifying.”
“Just try it.” He waved the book in the air. “Come on, what was the main cause of the Trojan War?”
You rolled your eyes.
“That’s easy. The golden apple. Eris threw it at Peleus and Thetis’ wedding because she wasn’t invited, and the goddesses started fighting over it.”
Jason nodded approvingly and, without warning, leaned in and kissed your cheek.
Your brain completely short-circuited.
“W-What was that?”
“Your prize,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just made your entire system crash. “Now, next question.”
Still wide-eyed, you stared at him in disbelief.
“Are you seriously going to kiss me every time I get something right?”
“Maybe.” His blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “Or maybe I have other prizes in mind.”
You crossed your arms and pretended to be indignant.
“This is manipulation.”
“I prefer to call it motivation.”
Despite your attempt to pout, your heart was beating way faster than normal, and you couldn’t deny that the thought of earning more “prizes” made studying the Trojan War seem a lot less painful.
So, with a dramatic sigh, you took a deep breath and prepared for the next question.
“Alright, Grace. Hit me with your best shot.”
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an-au-blog · 1 year ago
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I love zosan and think the art made me love it even more, but if I'm being honest with myself and how I feel about the canon, I'd say there should be zolu and sanuso before zosan. Let me explain:
The only logical explanation for Zoro - a pirate hunter, who had killed pirates for very petty reasons... to join a random guy with no crew, no boat and a pipedream, is that he saw something in him. The sheer amount of loyalty this man holds for his captain is more than akin to blind devotion than anything. And the trust Luffy holds in his first mate is absolutely astounding.
Outside of the ladies, Sanji only ever defends/vouches for Usopp. Even though Usopp is a man, Sanji doesn't treat him with the annoyance he sometimes has for Luffy and Zoro. During the water 7 arc, he keeps defending Usopp even though the Mary fiascos. He's super protective towards him.
In conclusion, here's how I think it'd go:
Sanji had been unintentionally courting Usopp and only realized it when water 7 happened. At some point while they're still in recovery or maybe while they were still traveling to enmys lobby, he tries to tell him what he's realized. Because if he really leaves the crew, this would be his only chance and he needed to live without regrets, as there was no guarantee what could happen.
Sanji: Usopp, I know it's not the time or place, but-
Usopp: Haha, this isn't Usopp, I'm Sniper King, remember?!
Sanji (defeated, knowing nothing will come of this): Yeah, well, when you see Usopp, can you tell him that I'm sorry I couldn't tell him on time, but I love him and I regret only realizing it now...
Usopp: ...
Usopp: Oh... well... I'll be sure to tell him.
Sanji might have taken that as a nice way to reject him, so he decided to take it with dignity and leave but was stopped when he heard
Usopp: And thank you... I mean, he'd probably thank you. For telling him.
Would it be too pathetic of Sanji to hold onto hope?
After everything was said and done, Usopp joined again. Sanji had forgotten, with all the things that happened, about his confession. So he was a bit surprised when he approached him about it.
S: Soooo... Sniper King told me what you wanted to tell me...
U, sweating bullets: Whaaat? I didn't mean- I mean I never told him to tell you anything, idk what you're talking about. That sniper king guy probably lied!
S: I don't think he's the type to lie. He's a man of honor, you know.
U, not believe that he's getting jealous of himself: you're so easy to defend him, you like him or something?
S, with embarrassment but loving adoration: Yeah.
U, heart broken: Oh. Well, I wish you two a happy life then.
(If he's wondering whether or not to "rejoin as SK", but living a double life would be hard and -)
S: Wait, where are you going. I just told you I loved you and you're walking away? Did something happen, I thought...
U: You said you like Sniper King, not me. (*insert rant about how SK is so much better than Usopp and all that self degrading bs*)
S: Okay, okay, no. I know you're the same person. But if you insist: I love you too. Not only in a friend way, not because of your persona, but because of you. Usopp.
And awww, would you look at that, they started dating. Time passes and Usopp stops feeling as insecure as he had before. Sanji keeps flirting with women but never means it and they all know it because they always ends up back in each other's arms. But then something devastating happens. Sanji can't stop thinking about how the mosshead never wears a shirt. It's infuriating and Usopp kind of understands, at one point he goes "Have you tried touching his chest? Maybe you'll get it out of your system."
To which Sanji is 1. Speechless, petrified, flabbergasted; 2. Shook and horrified at the suggestion; 3. Kind of obsessed with the idea now that he thinks about it; 4. defensive because "my love, you are all I need how could youuuu think thaaat".
In that order.
Usopp, laughing nervously: It's not like I haven't done it.
Sanji: What?
Usopp: What.
So it turned out, that one night of drinking made Zoro almost kiss Usopp, which he backed away because he was afraid, but then Zoro called it "physical traids" which made him.confused and a bit worried that he didn't know what that was, so he said he'd think about it. Zoro looked at him in a way that conveyed "what is there to think about", but never voiced it. With a shrug, he said okay and never tried anything after that.
So Sanji and Usopp decided that they needed to talk about it with the swordsman himself. To work out the logistics if anything... What he said, however, none of them expected.
Zoro: I don't know why you make it into a big fuss. Physical traids, yeah, it's like: I find you attractive, you find me attractive, we care for each other so we make out or if we're feeling it - more. How can Luffy het it, but you can't.
Jaws on the floor.
They call Luffy in on the conversation and it gets worse.
Luffy: Yeah, it's like when I'm bored, or feel like it, we do stuff. But I don't really wanna kiss anyone else and I told him you guys are okay to kiss cause I trust you!
Explaining to them that, yes - that's kind of what dating is, and yes - they've been technically exclusively dating until now, went about as well as one might have hoped. At one point, Sanji definitely got frustrated from his own overthinking about why Marimo had hit on his boyfriend but never him. To which Zoro responded that he had tried a couple of times but Sanji just kicked or ignored him, so he gave up, thinking he wasn't interested.
And at some point Luffy definitely drops something like "I'd like to try with you guys too, it could be fun." with a beaming smile and both Usopp and Sanji wouldn't be able to stop thinking about ot for a week straight, low-key obsessing over it until they decide, okay, yes. And then they would tell him and he would just go "Oh, right, forgot about that, sure, let's do it!"
(idk this was funnier in my head)
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my-pjo-stuff · 8 months ago
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Do you know WHY Luke even killed himself just to DEFEAT Kronos? He was going to sacrifice himself so that Kronos could rise again, and that was HAPPENING! If he'd sacrificed himself, he would probably have thought that there was a chance of the gods going back to their original system, but there was a possible CHANCE of Kronos establishing a better system!
It just drives me MAD every time I think about it. Luke's 'redemption' arc was unnecessary since it only served to make him look better in the eyes of the protagonists who were actively upholding a cruel system, though they were manipulated children too.
Also, the thing about Luke being a pedo and Annabeth's reply, it's always so annoying to me, because Luke was NEVER a pedo-he simply wanted to know if she still loved him after everything that he'd done and honestly who WOULDN'T?
I absolutely LOVE some of your posts in this blog. I haven't read the PJO books in a long time so I was just wondering if you actually knew why Luke sacrificed himself
I mean imma be frank with ya, I talked about the whole Pedo thing so much I'd just repeat myself. So in story canon Luke sacrificed himself for Annabeth after he realized how horrid Kronos actually is and she managed to get through to him with her iconic "Family, Luke, you promised!" line. Out of canon? My honest belief is that Rick just had no idea how to get rid of Kronos, so he pulled Luke's "redemption" outta his ass. Because not gonna lie? Even as one of the most hardcore Luke apologists you can find, I still think that his "redemption" was not good and shoehorned in. A good Redemption Arc needs to be, well- an arc. It needs proper set up, execution and aftermath. All that simply didn't happen with Luke. The entire "arc" basically happened in TLO where he was already possessed by Kronos. Now where there signs of him not being totally fine with Kronos and his methods? Yes, most certainly. But he still went along with them, even if he wanted an out. Luke still chose Kronos over the gods. In every single one of his appearance Luke has been characterized to completely despise the gods above all else, to the point of him actively choosing the cause over those he loves (which, btw, in this case is something I support). At the same time has the whole Kronos possession been set up as final ever since it was introduced. Luke get's possessed and Luke is dead. Dead dead. No coming back from this.
So for Luke then, in the last possible second, be "snapped out of it" by Annabeth? When Kronos was already possessing him for a considerable amount of time and very close to gaining his full titan form? Yeah, that doesn't make any sense. And if you now consider that Percy and co. literally had no way to really defeat Kronos without at least Percy dying due to the prophecy, it really makes you think wether Luke's whole sacrifice was actually planned out for the story or just a way for Rick to wrap it all up nicely without having to merk his MC.
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annaphoenix1994 · 8 months ago
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Assurance
Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter
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"We have to talk about what happened earlier. You know that, right?" Simon asked from across the table in their hotel room, the tension not once subsiding throughout the last several hours of the day, the couple barely talking to each other after the altercation. 
"What is there to talk about? The fact that I caught some cop doing an unlawful search on Teeter because your ex-girlfriend assumed she was scum off the street and I fucking did something about it?" She scoffed, the additional hormones as well as body aches feeding the fuel to her anger about what happened. 
He huffed, defeated as he knew getting into an argument wasn't going to help the situation, but he felt that it still needed to be discussed, "How many times do I need to remind you that you're pregnant? That you can't be doing what you just did without facing consequences?" 
"Consequences?" She scoffed, a laugh hiding behind her throat. "What? Just because I'm pregnant by you gives you a say in what I should or shouldn't be doing?" 
"In a way, yes," He sighed, setting back in his chair and tapping his leg impatiently, knowing the situation was about to escalate. "Especially when you don't think about it yourself." 
"Oh, I do think about it. I'm reminded every fucking day that I'm pregnant, Simon. In case you forgot, I wake up to throw up everything in my stomach, get sick at smelling certain things, suffer through hot flashes, and having constant body aches because I'm getting bigger by the day and have to carry that extra weight around when I feel like my body isn't accommodating. What I did was justified. I was perfectly capable of handling it on my own, but I guess it bothered you to see your ex getting humbled." 
"No, that's not it at all," He huffed, picking up on the jealousy she had towards Sarah. If only you knew why we broke things off, love. "This isn't Wyoming. The legal system doesn't take kindly to destruction of property like that. You nearly destroyed that shop." 
"And I'll fucking do it again. So, I guess it bothers you more that I destroyed her shop than Teeter being violated like that?" 
"I didn't say that. It does bother me that it happened to Teeter, but regardless, you can't just do bloody shit like that." 
"I think it does bother you that it turned out to be your ex. Don't know why you left her." 
"I'll tell you why: because I didn't want her anymore. What we had was no strings attached. Fucking years ago, Kiera. Long before I even met you. Long before anything that ever happened to me that I told you about. I wasn't interested in anything more than sex. That was it. She wanted more and I didn't want to give it, so I broke things off." 
"Is that what you wanted with me?" 
"Fucking Christ," He grumbled, wiping a hand over his face, hating the assumption that with the new information Simon had just told her that he wanted the same with Kiera. "No. If it was what I wanted, I never would've gone home with you for Thanksgiving, never would've let you see my face, never would've invited you to a ball, never would've fucking put a ring on your hand. What part of you changed me did you not understand, love?" 
She didn't know what to say. Instead, she looked down at her lap, contemplating on if she should keep her thoughts to herself to let them eat at her throughout the night or to express how she was feeling to him. "Okay." 
"I know that's not what you're thinking." 
"Maybe it is." 
"I know better than that. I can tell you have a lot of things you're wanting to say. Go ahead, lay it all out." 
"No," She scoffed. "What I want to say won't mean shit." 
"Try me." 
"No." 
"Alright. Keep all those emotions bottled up until you can't take it anymore. I guess you can't practice what you preach then, yeah?" 
"What's that supposed to mean?" She scoffed. 
"All of those times you told me not to bottle up my emotions and to just tell you so I'd feel better. I guess that doesn't apply to you then, huh?" 
"Maybe it fucking doesn't. I guess don't be surprised when I lash out like you did to me that day." 
"I didn't lash out," He corrected. "I wanted to be alone because it was my mum's birthday, and I didn't know how else to deal with it aside from being alone." 
"Well maybe I want to be alone." 
"If that's what you want. I'll be here when you decide you want to talk about it." 
"You shouldn't." 
"Why?" 
"Because. Guys don't want to deal with our dramatic asses, and they just leave. I'm waiting for you to do the same." 
"Well, tough shit, love. I knew exactly what I was getting into, and I don't regret it. You have your days and so do I. And let me correct you on something: guys don't know how to grow up. Men don'tgo running when times get tough." 
"You'll change your mind." 
"When I have my sight on something, I don't let up." 
"Whatever you say," She huffed, standing to her aching feet. "I'm going to go take a bath. Don't wait on me." 
"I kind of have to considering we're in a hotel."
"You know what I damn well mean." She huffed, leaving Simon to sit at the table alone as he watched her enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and dimming the lights. Please don't lock that door. You'll fall asleep in the bath, and I'll have to break down the door just to get to you, he frowned, suddenly overprotective of her as he knew she was in a vulnerable state of mind, knowing all-too well that familiar feeling that he hated so much. 
It ached him to hear her cry behind the door, knowing she didn't need to be going through her thoughts alone as he sat on the edge of the bed, the television doing nothing to help ease his mind.
You're not good enough for him.
He's going to leave you. 
You're going to push him away. 
You deserve everything you've been through because it was your fault. 
Daunting and horrendous thoughts kept crossing her mind as she wept in the tub, the constant ache in her pelvis sending minor jolts coursing through her body. Her head rested against the tub, looking up at the dim ceiling as tears continued to stain her cheeks. 
Sure, he's happy now that you're carrying his children, but his love for you will fade and he will leave and find someone else who is better for him. Your kids will prefer him over you and will go with him and love his new woman over you.
Over and over, she kept giving herself a reason to cry, feeling she deserved the thoughts she was expressing towards herself as well as the desperation to just let everything out. 
After a half hour, Simon began to grow nervous, knowing Kiera took her time with baths, but not that much time. He didn't want her to feel isolated and alone while her mind was vulnerable, but he also wanted to give her the space he felt she needed. You're always suffocating her, he grumbled to himself, feeling as if he pushed her away, but the feeling of just letting her isolate herself made it harder and harder for him to give her the space she thought she needed. 
A soft knock rasped against the bathroom door, Kiera whimpering in shock as her thoughts subsided when he came to her aid. "Can I come in?" 
"You don't want to see me like this." 
"I need to, love," He sighed. "Can I come in?" 
"I-I guess." She replied, her tone low. Regretful, even. She truly didn't want him to see her in miserable mentality. She attempted to cover her body with the various clusters of soap clouds when he entered, afraid for him to see the prominently red stretch marks beginning to grow to accommodate her stomach.
Truly, Simon didn't care how she thought she looked to him. Every stretch mark was another stripe of honor she was carrying along with her. Of course, he wasn't fond of a sudden mood from silliness to anger, but he knew it wasn't her fault, but her hormones were the culprit. He grew to admire it, even - that her body was going through such a dramatic change just to bring two beautiful children into the world. 
Their children. 
Although exhausted, her skin radiated a steady glow as she closed her eyes to avoid Simon's presence. Not that she didn't want him there, but she was afraid that he'd begin to scold her further about the events that happened at the boutique. Instead, she felt his presence at the foot of the tub, pulling up a stool and taking a seat at her head, his hands steadily reaching for her damp hair to let it dangle from the edge of the tub.
"I know what happened earlier isn't what's bothering you." He whispered, the pads of his fingers on either side of her face, his right thumb tracing over the scar she carried on her face. It had healed rather nicely, but was still prominent, knowing she saw it every day as a burden. 
But he saw it as a reminder. 
A reminder of how hard she fought to stay with him, how hard she fought regardless of what she was fighting for, but also a reminder of how he felt to appreciate her more. 
"I wish it was," She sighed, keeping her eyes shut to avoid his worrisome gaze. "I'm afraid what's going through my mind is worse." 
"Do you want to talk about it, love?" 
His voice was comforting as well as soothing, effortlessly easing her troubled mind with every caress of his thumbs against her cheeks. "It's stupid if I did, Simon." 
"The way you're handling your emotions isn't stupid. You can't help it. I'm not here to judge you." 
She heaved a breath, "I know, but I don't want to seem to always fill your head with my stupid negative thoughts."
"You never will. The best I can do is try to understand what you're feeling. I never truly can, but I can try." 
His answer caused another tear to escape the corner of her eyes, the pad of his thumb catching the tear before she could wipe it away herself. "I don't see myself how you see me, Simon." 
"You're right, you don't see what I wake up to every day," He whispered. "But I can tell you this: you're admirable, love. I know you look at every scar with distaste and hate, I see them as a badge of honor. You carry yourself with so much pride and you don't even realize it. I've kept my eye on you since we met. The way you handle yourself in situations makes me realize that you are going to be beyond perfect as a mother. This whole experience is new for both of us, but I'm so bloody lucky to be spending the rest of my life with you. I know that nothing I say can permanently change your mind about how you feel about yourself, but I want you to know how I see you. There's so much more that I want to say, but I don't know how to say it without sounding stupid," He breathed a chuckle. "I worried every day that someone would take you from me - I still do." 
"I'm not going anywhere, Simon." 
"I hope not," He smirked down at her. "It may sound silly, but I knew I was going to put a ring on that finger the second month we were together. When I went Christmas shopping for you, I wanted to look at rings so bad, but I talked myself out of it because I thought it was too soon." 
He didn't hesitate to wipe another tear that streamed along her cheek, a regretful whimper leaving her lips as her chest heaved again. "Is-Is that why you always rubbed my ring finger all the time?"
"Yes. I still do. I was so scared to ask you." 
He was pleased to see a weak smile appear on her face. 
"Afraid that you'd say no or reject me." 
"You know I'd never do that." She breathed, her left hand reaching for his, the diamond sparkling in the dim light. His thumb rubbed over her knuckles before his thumb traced over the ring on her finger. Bloody perfect. Better than I imagined.
"Your fingers are starting to wrinkle, love. Let's get you to bed." 
She sighed, nodding as she let Simon help her out of the tub, her thighs pressing against each other in an attempt to hide herself from him, even though he didn't view her intimately unless they both were "in the mood." Of course, Simon looked at her every day, a split thought of how she rode him and how well she took him crossing his mind, but he never did constantly sexualize her, especially when she was vulnerable. And now, she was in a vulnerable state - even though she was bare and exposed in front of him, he spent his entire focus on helping her out of the tub with his secure grip, using his foot to nudge the folded towel on the floor for her to step on as he didn't want her to risk falling. 
"I know you're not going to forget about what happened earlier-"
"We're both not, but you were right - she deserved it and Teeter didn't deserve how she was treated. Just... Just try to think about you being fragile right now, yeah?" 
They were facing each other, Simon's fingers curling against her bare arms, tracing them up and down from her bicep to her shoulder before her cupped her face gently in his hands, leaning his lips towards her to place a kiss to her forehead, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, his heart thudding a beat faster when he felt her lean into him, craving his warmth. "I'm sorry, Simon." 
"Don't be hard on yourself, love. We have a big day tomorrow, so let's focus on getting plenty of rest." 
"Easier said than done, babe." 
Babe, he relieved to himself, glad to hear the pet name coming from her mouth. "We'll work on it."
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prettygrlwrld · 2 months ago
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Don’t Let Go
Pair: Black male x Black female reader 
Genre: Friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff
Songs:
Warning: 18+
Summary: After a grueling year in law school, you reconnect with your  longtime friend Maceon, who invites you to escape city life and recharge in the quiet of the country. What begins as a much-needed break turns intimate as years of unspoken tension finally erupt, leading to a powerful, emotional, and physical connection that neither of you can deny. 
PART 1
Life is just too much sometimes—rent due soon, school is tiring, work is draining, car needs gas—it's as if it never stops. It was everything I ever asked for—L1 at Emory School of Law, working as an associate for Burns & Alexander, a top criminal defense firm, and a support system unlike any other—so I honestly can’t complain.
But sometimes, when you’re living the dream you don’t think to actually live and savor the blessings that you prayed for. 
“Y/N” Mr. Burns snapped me out of your dizzy haze.
“Go home, you clearly need some rest” he stated clearly, not looking up from the papers in his hand “I need you at your prime, not dozing off” he followed-up as he walked off.
Pushing your hair out of your face, you accepted defeat—you were truly exhausted with another final coming up—and gathered your things.
On your way to your car your phone rang, not looking just picking up, “Hello this is Y/N”, “Damn guh, you got that code switching thing down” said with a snicker–without looking at the contact you knew it was your goofy ass homeboy from college, Maceon.
You met Mace as a freshman at Alabama State University–y’alls roommates were friends and we all became this crew. As all freshman year friend groups, we fell out, but he stuck to your hip like grits. And you didn’t mind,  he was funny and easy to talk to.
“Boy why you call me playin’ on my phone” you staled in response, putting your car in reverse and pulling out of the parking lot.
“Answer my facetime” he said, straight ignoring your question.
Popping the phone in the car holder, you answered. There he was–sweaty, in a white tank top, dirty jeans, and a freshly opened corona.
You focused on the road ahead, merging onto the highway, “well you clean up mighty nice Michellel Obama” he jeered.
You rolled your eyes with a slight smile. This boy is so unserious, you thought.
“What do you want, Maceon?” you asked, using his full name.
He smiled, taking a sip of his beer. “Why you look like that?” he asked, again ignoring your question.
“Like what?” you retorted, looking at him as traffic slowed to a stand still. 
“Like Lady Life whoopin’ your ass” he said chuckling.
“Boy fuck you, I work my ass off. God forbid a girl need a break!” you said jokingly with a huge smile, trying to hide your true exhaustion.
“You need to get out the city. When’s your next break?” he asked, sitting up, eyes locked on you through the phone.
“I take my last final tomorrow, then I’m done for the semester, but I gotta work” you said redirecting your attention to the road, hoping he’d just let it go.
Of course not—this is Mace.
“Fuck allat, come out here for a couple days—take a load off, get some fresh air, ground yourself wit nature n shit or whatever they be saying” he said rolling a blunt. 
That’s how it all started, you were quite the pothead in undergrad and that’s a big reason y’all stayed so close. 
Random late-night smoke sessions, finding little hideouts around campus or parks in Montgomery—it didn’t matter where. Y’all would always lose track of time, talking about everything under the sun.
You could always count on each other—whether to vent or drop random facts.
“I can’t just up and leave Mace”, you sighed. 
“You act like the world gon’ fall apart if you disappear for three days,” Mace said, turning his face up, voice low, but steady through the phone. 
“Y/N, you always ‘on.’ School, work, court, life—girl, you barely breathe. You say you can’t just up and leave, but maybe that’s exactly why you need to. You done poured into everybody else, now you runnin’ on fumes and still tryna sprint. Nah. Come out here. Ain’t nobody askin’ you to go ghost, just… pause. Get out the noise. Let some wind hit your face that ain’t comin’ from a courtroom door slammin’. Ground yourself again. The grind gon’ be there when you get back—but you won’t enjoy none of it if you burn out before the bar exam.” 
“Ok ok” you said slightly embarrassed, “I got it. When can I come?”, you asked looking down at the pandora bracelet on your wrist. 
“Bring ya’ big head ass this weekend” he grinned, rubbing his hands together. “That way ya’ ass can’t chicken out.”
“Nigga fuck you!” you taunted shaking your head in the camera with a smile and flipping him off.
“Yea whateva, you heard me” he laughed back. 
“Aight I’m finna go take this nap before class” you chuckled pulling off the highway, looking back at the phone. 
You hadn’t noticed him leaning forward on his forearms, tanned and more muscular than you remembered, his full attention on you.
“Ight, I’ma send you the address. Let me know when you on the road.”
“I neva agreed to–” 
“Do it sound like I’m playin’ wit you guh?” he cut you off. 
“Go take ya’ nap, bookie” he waived with a sarcastic smile, hanging up in your face.
The next day felt like the last mile of a marathon—finals, cleared. Mr. Burns gave me the day off for "extra rest". Energy? Shot.
You didn’t even have the strength to text Mace back, you just threw your duffle bag of random outfits in the backseat of your Volkswagen Jetta and started driving.
Three hours of country roads, gas station snacks, and massive cotton fields later, you finally pulled into a long, cracked driveway, leading to a cozy country home with a wraparound porch at the front.
He was waiting on the porch—black Nike slides, grey sweatpants, shirtless, durag—grinning with a half-smoked blunt hanging from his lips.
“You look like you just got drafted for the Hunger Games,” you said as you stepped out, stretching your arms above your head.
“And you look like you need a week of sleep and two shots of tequila,” he quipped, hopping off the porch. “Why I had to track you like a hound?” he said, trapping you against the car. 
"You got my location. If you was lookin' fa me, you coulda found me" you shrugged. 
"Yea, but I specifically told ya' to text me" he said looking down at you with those almost hazel brown eyes. 
Taking in his unusually large frame–standing at six feet, tanned a burnt caramel color, tatted chest and arms–his woody cologne mixed with the smell of smoke intoxicated your nostrils. 
A familiar scent you didn’t know you’d missed. 
You put your hand in his chest creating some space, "I'm grown as the fuck, and last I checked I only got one daddy" you rolled your eyes opening the back door to get your bag. 
You could feel his eyes tracking you as he leaned on the door behind you–assuredly staring at your ass. 
You blushed a little from his protective actions. You could never figure out if he was your over protective brother or boyfriend. He never explicitly expressed interest, so you always brushed it off.  
The next day in Decatur didn’t feel real—time moved like molasses, sweet and slow, stretching out between deep breaths and long stares. 
You didn’t do much of anything except trail behind Mace like a shadow, watching how he moved through his world with quiet command. 
He showed you how his family’s farm operated—where the goats liked to hide when it was hot, how to check a horse’s hooves without getting kicked, and which of the barn dogs would follow you for snacks and not loyalty.
You watched as he lifted bales of hay and fixed little things–from machinery to fences. 
Mace wouldn’t accept any help, he just wanted to make sure you were getting the break he felt you’d earned. 
“You hea’ to rest, not to prove nun,” he said one morning, brushing sawdust off your shoulder. 
So you rested. 
You followed him around in his slides, sipping sweet tea from a mason jar, letting the thick southern air loosen the knots in your chest.
By Saturday evening, the sun was sliding down behind the trees and the whole family was posted up at his grandma’s house. 
You could hear laughter and the clatter of pots through the open kitchen window. 
Inside, the grown folks were loud—arguing over dominoes and who made the best potato salad. 
But outside, on the back patio, the young crew had taken over. 
A cooler of beer sat in the corner, kids ran wild through the yard with two hyper mutts on their heels, and the sky was that perfect mix of lavender and gold.
You were tucked into one of the lawn chairs, half-listening to a debate about who could really cook and who just posted cute plates on Instagram, when the conversation shifted—like it always does—to relationships.
“I’m just sayin’,” one of Mace’s cousins, a sharp-tongued girl with box braids and curly lashes, leaned in, “niggas love to lie and say they don’t got a type.”
“Facts,” another cousin added, grabbing a beer. 
“They always say that until they get caught up with three girls that look just alike.”
“Bullshit” on of the larger male cousins muttered. 
You sipped slow, letting the moment stretch before chiming in, “Shit, you got an example right in front of you”, you nodded towards Mace.
That made a few heads turn—Mace raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah?” his messy cousin instigated, cheshire grin, amused.
You didn’t flinch. Just shrugged, calm and casual. “Mmhmm. Skinny, brown-skinned girls with curly fros or starter locs. The ‘earthy baddie’ starter pack. And don’t even try to deny it.”
The group erupted in laughter.
You weren’t mad though. You said it matter-of-fact, like someone pointing out the weather. 
You knew who you were—soft, thick, fairer-skinned, laid edges and a fresh sew-in. You weren’t his usual, and you were okay with that.
But he looked at you longer than necessary, brows furrowed just slightly—like he was trying to figure something out.
That’s when one of his older cousins, slick and always ready with the roast, grinned and added, “Man, Mace used to date them white girls heavy back at Central. He prolly still don’t know what to do wit nun homegrown.”
More laughter. Louder this time.
Mace just smirked and sipped his beer, never taking his eyes off you.
And somehow, in that moment, you knew—whatever his type was, he hadn’t stopped watching you since you got there.
Later that night, Mace and his older cousins manned the grill like it was tradition. 
Smoke curled into the night sky, mixing with laughter, music, and the scent of charcoal and spice. 
The yard buzzed—people eating off paper plates, kids passing out from too much running, couples slow dancing barefoot in the grass. It was one of those scenes that felt too perfect to be real.
You slipped inside for a break, the hum of the box fan in the window offering a little reprieve from the heat and the noise. 
The kitchen was dimly lit, quiet. 
You opened the fridge, grabbed a water, and leaned against the counter, trying to cool off.
Then you heard the screen door creak behind you.
Mace.
You didn’t have to look. You felt him.
The air changed when he walked in—got thick, like it was holding its breath.
He didn’t say anything at first. 
Just walked past you, slow, to grab a beer from the fridge. 
But you could feel his eyes tracing you. Taking inventory.
“You good?” he finally asked, low and easy.
“Mmhmm.” You nodded, not trusting your voice.
He closed the fridge, leaned against it, and looked you up and down like he was trying to read something off your skin.
“You thought I wasn’t attracted to you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. 
You turned your head toward him, heart thudding in your chest. “I thought you were playin’.”
He pushed off the fridge, slow, deliberate, like a decision had finally been made. He walked up behind you, close enough that his body heat wrapped around you.
He shook his head, lips grazing your shoulder. “That was your problem this whole time?”
His hands were warm when they found your waist, and you let him. Let the silence bloom around you, thick with everything unsaid.
“I don’t assume shit, Mace,” you said quietly, looking down at your hands, unsure of what to do with them.
He didn’t rush.
He didn’t speak.
He just slipped one hand up your arm, fingertips brushing your skin, slow like a question.
“I been tryin’ not to cross this line with you,” he said finally, his breath hot against your neck, “but you makin’ it hard as hell, Y/N.”
You turned around slowly, meeting his eyes. The kitchen light caught the amber in them, and for the first time, he looked unsure.
“I didn’t come here for this,” you whispered.
“I know,” he said, turning you around. “But maybe you needed it anyway.”
His fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your face to his. And in that second, the distance between you felt like an insult.
Then his lips were on yours—soft at first, like a secret. Then firmer, deeper, like he’d been holding it in for years.
And when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “Tell me to stop… or I’m not lettin’ you go tonight.”
You didn’t say a word.
You didn’t need to.
Your silence was loud enough.
Note: Trying to work on building to the smut. Next part coming soon.
Tag List: @marley1773, @hrlzy, @childishgambinaax, @christinabae, @ispywithmylileye, @browngirldominion
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