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jaegeraether · 2 days ago

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The Runaway - Chapter 2 (Alexia Putellas x original character slow-burn)

Jae's Masterlist

CHAPTER 2

DELANEY

Most players avoided social media, especially Tik Tok and especially after a match. Delaney, though, was always curious and entertained by it.

There was an overwhelming amount of content following their match. People talking about players, about Delaney’s first time against the Spanish team, about the brutality of it.

Players were shipped with players, rumours started to swirl and most of it was over just the slightest expression one player had given another during the game.

“Guys, Dellie rolling on top of Alexia is my moment of the match for sure.”

“Did you see how she moved her? Argh.”

“They seem to really respect each other!”

“I knew people would sexualise them. She was just getting her out of the way! What I can’t get over is how they fought each other in the midfield. That’s what it’s like to watch Ballon d’Or players against each other. Dellie to get her first this year, I hope!”

“Everybody is talking about Dellie and la Reina but Kyra’s penalty? Maccas three in a row clearances? Steph’s assist from the centre line? Oof. These are the Tillies we love!”

“Turns out the only strategy to work against Baker is to put Alexia onto her. A bit more time and la Reina would have had her.”

Delaney smiled, entertained by the comments. Regardless of if they were good or bad, she knew that none of them understood what it was like to be in the middle of a match, fighting against the Spanish girls.

She did enjoy herself, though. Especially her tussles in the midfield with Alexia. She was every bit as good as she imagined and much more than deserving of the mountain of trophies she’d had. There was a moment after the match when Delaney wondered if she had imagined the strange, natural connection between her and the Spanish Captain, but that was quickly overcome when Alexia had followed her on Instagram immediately after the match.

As with most friendlies, they had another one coming up in just a few days. Unfortunately, Delaney was not allowed to play. Her shoulder had been dislocated in the last few minutes of the previous match, and it was purely by luck that she’d managed to push it back in as she rolled her body over it on the ground.

Instead, she was stuck in a sling and subsequently told off by the medics, who only did so because they had to.

The next game against Spain, she thought they did better. They still lost, but only by a small margin. The game ended in 0-1 to Spain, with the main deficit for the Matildas, their scoring. The midfield fought hard with their renewed passion, and she was working hard on the sideline analysing, pointing out their deficiencies, and making effective changes.

It felt surreal to watch the Spanish team play live though. They were all so talented. The mindset and passion for football that they’d developed at such a young age was evident in how they played. So many of their players were incredible. Mapi, Ona, Aitana, Claudia.

But there were none as good as Alexia. She was a leader. She coached the team while they were on the field, and players listened to everything she had to say. Even the Australians would stop to listen, not knowing a word of Spanish.

While most players focussed on the ball, she was assessing just at Delaney did. Making sure everyone was where they should be. Finding weaknesses and taking advantage of them. Her sight when it came to passing was unrivalled. Her technical ability had her taking on multiple midfielders at once and winning. She made quick, clever decisions that couldn’t be taught to other players defending her. They just needed that same ability.

There’s no way that someone as tall and stocky as Alexia should have been better than someone small and nimble like Aitana. But she was. And it wasn’t about the stats. It was about so much more than that.

Delaney caught Alexia’s gaze a few times during the match. Her face was mainly neutral, but from the frequency in which she looked, she knew there was some curiosity there.

There was one specific moment when Delaney knew Alexia was watching her again. She could feel it, like a spark igniting just beneath her skin. Their eyes locked across the field and Delaney felt the air shift. It was as though time slowed, and her heart skipped a beat - an inexplicable pulling. Alexia’s gaze was steady, confident. But Delaney could see something else there - something unreadable, yet so clear at the same time. And before she could break the moment, Alexia looked away, leaving Delaney to wonder if she had imagined it all.

The game ended, and she entered the field to shake hands. She made sure to let her teammates know how well they did, and how much progress they’d made. She shook hands with the Spanish players too, many who seemed curious about her.

“Sorry for… this…” Cata said in broken English, gesturing to her sling.

“Oh, it’s okay! Just part of the game.”

“I yam glad you are fix.” Cata continued with a grin. She was flirtier than she’d anticipated.

“I’m glad I could sit this one out!”

They chuckled and Cata looked down at her jacket, as if she were about to ask for her jersey.

A strong, familiar voice came from behind her then.

“You apologise?” Alexia said in English to Cata.

“Sí capitana.” Yes, Captain.

Alexia nodded and Cata took the hint to leave, but not before she winked at Delaney, “I see you again.”

“Hasta luego, Cata.” See you later, Cata.

Cata’s excited expression was worth the Google search of some basic Spanish phrases.

It was only as she looked to Alexia that she realised that the Spaniard was slightly taller than her. And then there was her gaze up close. Those golden hazel eyes of hers. When she looked at her, it was something deeper than just that. It felt like… recognition. Like she saw her clearly.

“You speak-” Alexia began.

“No.. no.” Delaney cut off with an apologetic smile. “Un poco… poco.”

Alexia chuckled at that, and it was an adorable sound. Much better than her gasp of pain at the cleat hitting her thigh the previous match. That was not so nice. Though the sound of it right in her ear- fuck. Control yourself.

“How is your thigh?”

She tilted her head. Delaney gestured to her thigh.

“Ah – is.. sore but… a little bit okay.” When Alexia struggled for the word, Delaney didn’t interrupt. She liked the way her brow furrowed, how seriously she took each phrase—as if every word mattered between them. “And.. you?” She looked at her sling, studying it.

“Is okay.” She mimicked cheekily.

Alexia hummed, her eyes scanning over her eyebrow. “Your…” She gestured to her back.

“It’s also okay. Few bruises. But that’s the game.”

Alexia picked up a word, with an empathetic look. “Bruise…?”

“Sí.. ah… muchos?” Yes, many. “But it’s okay.”

Alexia looked as if she didn’t believe she was okay. One eyebrow raised in defiance, and it made her heart skip a beat.

“You are a very good player, la Reina.”

She looked slightly embarrassed and proud. “Muchas gracias.” Thank you very much. Her tongue sneaking between her lips at the word 'gracias' was something she most definitely didn't notice. At all. “Alexia.”

“You don’t like la Reina?”

She paused for a moment, her eyes studying Delaney’s.

“Alexia.” She corrected, softer than before.

“Alexia.” She repeated.

She’d have to be simple to have missed Alexia’s eyes on her lips as she said her name. Her pupils dilating at the word.

She sucked in a breath and extended her good hand. “I’m Delaney.”

“Hola, Danny.” Hello, Danny. Delaney chuckled at the mistake. “Sorry… Delaney.” She said like she couldn't believe her own mistake.

“Well now I prefer Danny.”

They chuckled together. It was immediately evident that there was something here. A spark. A connection. Separated by language but still more than able to understand each other. It was exhilarating but scary at the same time. Delaney didn’t do well with emotional connections. She always had a habit of running or putting boundaries up.

“You are… very good... good player also.”

She bit her lip at the sound of Alexia’s adorable Spanish accent. “Thank you, Alexia.”

“Where you go?”

She tilted her head in confusion.

“Where you… play?” The Spaniard clarified.

“Oh! Uh.. I don’t know..”

Another moment of comfortable silence between them. God, she could sit in those for hours.

“Barcelona?”

Delaney gave her a look. “I’d love to... but the coach doesn’t want me.”

Alexia seemed to remember then what he’d said about not wanting or needing her and opened her mouth to apologise. Delaney touched her arm and felt Alexia lean into it.

“It’s okay. I have an offer from Arsenal that’s enticing. I’m meeting with them soon.”

“You go to them?”

It couldn’t have been easy for Alexia to have such a fragmented conversation in English, but she admired her perseverance. It felt like she wanted the conversation just as much as she did. She wanted to know anything and everything she could about this woman.

“If it feels right when I get there.” Alexia looked like she didn't understand so she put out a simpler word. “Maybe…”

“Ah…”

Yelling from the touchline got their attention as they realised they were the last players on the field. They both began to walk equally as slow toward their teams.

“I yam sorry for… for Pere. He speaks wrong.. about you.” She seemed frustrated with herself as she tried to explain. “He…”

“It’s okay, Alexia.” She reassured. “I don’t think it would be the best idea anyways.”

Alexia stopped walking and frowned again. Was it a bad thing that Delaney wanted to find out what each of her little face expressions meant? “You no want to-”

“Oh, no! I’d love to play for Barcelona. I would learn so much. I just… I’m not needed there. And besides-” She cut herself off, not wanting to say mention the elephant in the room. Alexia had understood the sentence without saying it, though.

Her frown deepened and it was like Delaney could hear her thoughts.

You don’t want to come because of… me?

The Australian stepped forwards and put her hand on Alexia’s perfectly golden arm again. Her fingers brushed against Alexia’s skin and lingered there, enough to notice the warmth of her. She told herself it was for comfort. But part of her didn’t want to let go. Especially when she realised that she was leaning into her ever-so-slightly.

“I’d love to be able to play alongside you one day, Alexia.” She said, her voice quieter than before and more confession than statement. For a second, Alexia didn’t respond, she only looked at her, and Delaney wondered if that silence held all the words neither of them dared spoke.

“ALE!”

“DELLIE!”

The shouts from the groups pulled them from their stupor. But not before Alexia smiled at her one last time.

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #barca femeni #fc barcelona #alexia putellas

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yoongleboonglepie · 2 days ago

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This is an important post to read if you're a fanfic writer, and while I usually dont reblog stuff on this account I want to put something out there for my readers.

So as a note to my readers: I know there's a couple scenes where I used the term red that I already have in my writing schedule to edit as I go through and fix some of my earlier writing, so I'm 100% aware of that one and will be shifting it as I'm still slowly going back through some of the earlier chapters!

BUT if you're ever reading something in my story about physical features (save for certain aspects like technically the reader is written as plus sized in my mind but even then I barely mention it and I used to tag it as such), please dont hesitate to DM me (if you want to, you absolutely do not have to) or send me an ask and be like "hey, this pulled me out of it because xyz." And I'll see what I can do to rewrite it/expound on it. Again, do not feel obligated in anyway - but just know if you want to, I will absolutely not be mad or get sassy with you or anything. When I read through I try to catch them myself.

Usually I already try to use terms applicable to a variety of features, to the point where I actually have photo references for all of the ways I can picture reader and the family members. None of the family past the first/second generation has a set look in my mind, and I have rotating reference photos that I hold up next to eachother to make sure descriptions can be interpreted in multiple ways.

While I do write readers with some character specifics because those are personally my favorite x reader stories to read (has a life, a specific place they live, friends/family/aspirations that are story relevant etc) I also am aware thats not everyones cup of tea!

But I want to elaborate on some of the small things I do as an author to try my best to make it more inclusive for if you're a writer reading this like "well wtf do I write then??" Because it shouldnt only fall on the people affected to hold our hands through it. As someone who is also left out of a lot of x readers for other reasons I get tired if explaining it, and I imagine thats how they feel as well).

- for blushed, I like using " ____ cheeks glowed" So this one comes from my painting/drawing background actually. My best friend in the entire world is black, and often times when I write I think of her as one of my muses (She knows this and is perfectly fine with it lol). If what I'm writing can't apply to her, I back up and try again. When she's flustered or embarrassed, her cheeks/ears at the tips can develope a pinkish hue, but usually they almost look like they're glowing if that makes sense! Whether its you can see the physical reaction of embarrassment really radiating from her face in her smile and her eyes, or if her skin does darken or have a shift in color; to me she "glows" with embarrasment in her complexion and her features.

Sometimes I do still use blush, because I never associated blush with only the color pink and red. I associated it as someones face displaying a flustered state through heat and color shift. If its on a huge make up blush set, I always included it. However it's important to note how a reader can interpret it, and this was a great reminder for me to keep that in mind. That's why looking at feedback like this is important, because it reminds us that somethings may not be interpreted in the way we interpret them, and it's good to be mindful of that.

-Use action to depict how your reader is feeling! Make your reader stutter, make their skin feel warm, make them fidget with something (that isnt their hair pls). Make their eyes widen, or their heart race! Get creative with it! Imagine the sensations you feel in those moments, not so much how it looks, and this goes for all situations. And if you cant pull from your own experiences, watch films, look at art, and read creations of people who are different from you.

-This one is so important and I can not stress it enough: Look. Up. References!! This is a bit contradictory, but you're reader can't just be an empty shell - if anything that makes it worse in my opinion. Because usually the empty shell people think of is just white, thin, with character traits rooted in patriarchal ideals. Look up photos for how you'd envision the reader as different people with ranging skintones, ethnicities, and sizes, and get comfortable with all of them. Because it is just simply not an option for none of them to be a possibility. If one of those people can't relate to a physical interaction, try and avoid it if you can. I view writing as I do painting, you have to observe or live what it is you're writing about in order to have the best shot at express your ideas.

-be open to exploring changes and bettering your writing. I'm not at all saying I'm perfect, and have definitely slipped up here and there. But If you aren't even trying in the slightest to improve, then label it a self insert because its really about you as the reader.

-if you really feel weird making it so physically loose, give the reader a stronger character profile. Personality traits dont have a set look. Aspirations and likes dont have a look. I personally hate bland x reader stories where they have no set or distinguishable character and its all "your favorite x. Your dream job" etc. It makes the story boring imo. (But again, thats my preference, I like a lot of world building). I can easily slip myself into different jobs, or living situations, personalities or lifestyles without any issue because its literally like playing pretend and it doesnt change the fundamental look of who I am. And I like doing that. If you want to be more creative with your environment and traits, do that instead of focusing on physical. There are plenty of readers that like creative world building!

-make sure there is a way for someone not white to exist in your story, i.e don't completely lock them out. For example, though my story features a last name (since it's story relevant), I NEVER mention distinguishing features of family unless they are front first/second generation. I try leave plenty of room open for interpretation for the physical look of a family member of the last 3/4 generations, and I work on collecting photos into my private family Pinterest board of a large variety. (If anyone would want to see them or see the different ways I picture certain characters, I'd be happy to unlock it, I just didn't know if anyone would care).

I even almost left a lot of them nameless, but story wise that just wouldnt have worked. So I googled the area my story takes place in, aka, 1880s-present north eastern US, and sifted through common names for different populations and tried to find matches. (For example off of the top of my head: Patti, Margaret, Duane, Leon, Mariah, etc were common names across the entire US for each of their respective times, not just white people).

-and last but not least, don't keep yourself from trying because its hard and youre scared to fuck up - because you probably will (I know I definitely have). But your fear isn't an excuse to perpetuate exclusion. If you're really still lost, read fanfic/actual books written by authors that are different from you. Get comfortable putting yourself in other people's shoes like they have to all of the time.

Like I said, I'm far from perfect, and I'll fuck up sometimes for sure and have. But I'd rather try than not try at all. And honestly? Its more fun as a writer to come up with solutions, or find new ways to express things. It makes me a better writer.

I love all my readers and I hope you are all having a lovely day. As per usual, sorry I rambled out my thoughts to the void LMAO.

~Delyn

Oh my fucking god, how hard is it to use flushed cheeks instead of blushed cheeks in fanfiction. No, they didn't develop a dusting of light pink. No, I didn't turn red. I'M FUCKING BLACK.

I don't mean to be rude, but I don't know how many times dark readers of color have to make posts like this, dude. Physical descriptions, dynamics with hair...come on.

I've seen it in way too many times now, and I'm going to start calling it out every time I see it in fanfiction. There are no more excuses. It can't be x reader if it only applies to those of lighter complexions.

And for writers of smaus or text fiction, or even those making headers: If you have pictures in them, why do they only ever have white or extremely pale women in those with pictures, unless they are especially made for black people or another specific group?

Use general headers with photos that don't include people for your content. Try to use *image insert* if the reader is sending something made to include a picture of them.

Make it general!! It's for a general audience!!

I get it, nine times out of ten, you're imagining yourself in these scenarios and then writing them. So if you're someone who is lighter, it's easy to have slip ups. BUT, it's not difficult whatsoever to make general content.

Because, let me tell you, it sucks as a POC to look at content and think, "Oh well, this wasn't made with people who look like me in mind, and it's obvious."

We're not asking for anything big. So stop making us beg for it.

#chillin with delyn #fanfic writer commentary #also as a writer dont get mad if someone doesnt like your story or doesnt want to tell you how to fix it #its just fanfic at the end if the day and is silly and us playing with imaginary paper dolls infront of a tiny audience #sorry not sorry for 800 typos. Im having a flare up today #just like I as a writer will inherently have a way of viewing things #so will your readers #and both are valid #so don't be mean to a reader if they arent into it and arent being mean about ut #saying yhey dont feel like they fit is how they feel and you dont get to say otherwise #also I am so sorry OP for just rambling in your notifs. please ignore me and i hope your day is wonderful haha #oh lastly #dont just go asking minorites for advice on how to write unless theyve explicitly stated they were open to the discussion #there are plenty of recourses freely available to you #where they have made themselves abundantly clear through posts or videos.#just listen to what they've already said if its from a group you're not in. its really not hard.

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solarsthoughts · 2 days ago

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me: alright, i’m going to write a 30k word fanfic. it’s just to practice structuring a plot and my writing, it’s nothing much. no crazy twists and turns. i’ll only write about 15 chapters. i think one month should be enough time to write it all, and then i can go back to plotting my actual book.

also me two months later, still working on said fanfic, having just uploaded chapter 24 and reached 61k words and far from the end of the story: OH MY GOD, DID I JUST COME UP WITH YET ANOTHER PLOT TWIST? Oh, but i need to make it fit with the rest… I KNOW! i’ll develop this plot line. yes, SO MANY IDEAS. SO MUCH POTENTIAL. NO ONE CAN STOP ME—

#ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 #ao3 author #ao3feed #writers #writers on tumblr #writer stuff #writerscommunity #writerblr #writing memes #writing humor

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patchwork-crow-writes · 4 hours ago

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Oh... oh you did NOT just... AUGH...!

That. Makes. Way too much sense. Everything you've pointed out, the foreshadowing, the character development for both Susie and Ralsei in these chapters... the fact that Ralsei doesn't want SUSIE specifically to see the final part of the prophecy... it all fits a pattern. And that pattern is - the Dragon will kill the Prince.

I think something of this has already been acted out, in fact. We see microcosms of it in both Chapters 3 and 4 - first, when Ralsei insists he and the other Darkners are not real, Susie grabs him by the collar with a very angry expression, and they are only interrupted by Tenna. Second, in Chapter 4... Susie is THIS close to lashing out at Ralsei for withholding information from her AGAIN. The dreadful guitar riff that preceded her fight with Lancer starts playing, and for an instant it looks like she might lose control...

...but she pulls herself back from that brink when she sees Ralsei break down and finally begin to admit the extent of what he knows. Susie teeters on the edge of fate, and pulls herself back, through sheer force of will.

Speaking of her fight with Lancer. Notice how her regular attacks start doing triple-digit damage, which is really high for Chapter 1 - AND her attacks continue to ramp up and up in power and ferocity as the fight goes on. I feel that this scenario might happen again, but with Ralsei in place of Lancer, echoing the first fight she had. A brutal beatdown where she inflicts blow after blow upon him, until...

In Lancer's fight, she misses her killing blow on purpose because she doesn't want to hurt her friend. In fact, she never quite manages to make good on any of her threats - she drops Kris right before she's about to bite THEIR face off, and that was at her worst point (that we know of), and does the same to Lancer later on.

Which is why, if Susie IS indeed prophecised to kill Ralsei, it will be by accident. Maybe he'll get in the way of one of her Rude Buster shots, or maybe she'll lose control for just one fatal instant... but no matter how it happens, it'll be inevitable. Like one of the glass panels with a section of the prophecy etched onto it, smash one and it reappears further along the path. Defy fate once, twice, a hundred times... the prophecy will have its pound of flesh sooner or later. It's only a question of when.

Let us hope that Susie is able to defy this tragic fate once and for all.

DETARUNE CHAPTERS 3 AND 4 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

I’ve got a prophecy/endgame theory lads, buckle up

I think it’s safe to say that the ending of chapter four is alluding to Ralsei’s death. Which absolutely SHOOK me, but the two chapters overall both were hinting at this going in. The multiple instances of him insisting they shouldn’t care about him, the empty room because he knows he won’t survive to need it for very long, the blood on his cheek with his words about fate being decided, and, of course, his parallel to Asriel in Undertale in being sacrificed for a greater cause.

Suffice to say, unless this is all a red herring, the game spent a large portion of the two chapters building up to this ultimate reveal. However, I think this final scene also hints at HOW Ralsei is supposed to die despite the prophecy being shattered by Susie. It’s subtler, but there.

Susie is supposed to kill him.

The blood on Ralsei’s face is initially from Susie’s hand. “The blood is on her hands.” She turns to touch his face after insisting none of them will let it happen, ESPECIALLY Ralsei.

Over the course of the chapter, Susie is consistently interested in the prophecy, and especially her role in it. This, and her story in chapters three and four heavily revolve around her growth as a person. She’s reflecting on herself, and learning to see herself has more than the ‘bad kid’ she was. It’s a focal point for a reason; it’s going to get flipped on its head.

Ralsei reiterates throughout the chapter that Susie is “a really really nice person.” It’s brought up in Chapter 3 after speaking about the festival, and after this conversation in Chapter 4. Ralsei’s question of “How can she be so kind?” isn’t reflecting to Susie’s own reflections of herself, or because of her consistent consolations of Ralsei’s doubts (in her Susie way), despite it being framed that way. He’s constantly questioning how she could possibly be so kind when she’s fated to kill him.

And Ralsei’s hope that the prophecy would change. Consider it: Would he have been trying to change his own death the whole time if it wasn’t for one of the lightner’s sake? No. Because multiple times again, he states he will take the pain for them. The reason he has been so insistent on “being kind” from the get go was not to change his own fate, but Susie’s. To try and ensure she wouldn’t be stuck with the fate of being the one to take his life, and have to live with that guilt.

He thought the answer was teaching her kindness. But with the prophecy unchanged, it leaves him stuck with that question: “how can she be so kind” and still be his inevitable doom? How can someone so kind still be fated to end his life?

…

Anyways, if Ralsei actually dies I’m still crying.

#rb #deltarune #deltarune spoilers #ralsei #susie deltarune #deltarune chapter 4 #OP this was HEARTWRENCHING to read #But it makes the most sense of all the theories I've seen so far #just in terms of everything we know so far and what we've been shown.#superb work

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the-irreverend · 6 hours ago

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Checkmate Kriselle Stans: Episode 1 - That's the Tea!

Hello and welcome to a very special series where I dissect and destroy absurd, asinine, and otherwise flat-out bullshit takes about Kriselle (and other ships in the Deltarune fandom)!

On today's episode, we're taking a look at one of the arguments used against Kriselle: the teas for Noelle and Kris and how they both react to drinking it and are healed by it.

Now I've seen a lot of people factor in the so-called "Tea Theory" when discussing the ships of Deltarune. And naturally, this has led to a lot of smug and insufferable antis eager to wield it against certain ships. The way I see it, "Tea Theory" is best used to supplement the ship you like, and NOT as some kind of holy scripture that tells you which relationships are romantic or not.

Like, come on. How would you Suselle fans feel if you saw people arguing that this scene here is evidence that Susie is better off with goddam Berdly because Noelle doesn't share her taste for birdseed?

But I digress. So, with all that said, there are many interpretations of why the teas have the effects they do and what they indicate about how a character feels about another or how well-developed their relationship is.

It can get very complicated. We can clearly see that Noelle drinking Susie’s tea has more healing than Susie drinking Noelle’s tea, which is fitting because of Noelle’s massive crush and because Susie had yet to discover and develop her feelings for her little doe.

With Ralsei and Kris, although Ralsei is very fond of Kris, seeing how their tea heals him more, Kris's relationship/feelings toward Ralsei isn't as developed. Not to mention that Kris and Susie are very much on the same wavelength personality-wise and have spent more time together, which would explain why their teas heal each other more.

So, how does this explain why Noelle and Kris’s tea heals each other only a little more than Noelle and Ralsei sharing their teas? If they understand each other’s quirks and qualities so well and have had such a deep relationship, then why wouldn’t it at least be on par with Kris and Susie’s?

I adamantly believe there are two critical reasons for this.

1) Their relationship isn’t at "full capacity".

If the tea’s effects were only decided by their feelings for each other, then it wouldn’t make sense why they wouldn’t heal each other more. We see clearly that Noelle still gets along very nicely with Kris, even as far back as Chapter 1, as she reassures them about Susie, gives them a pencil as they know they’ve a knack for losing it, and other moments that indicate they have a deep and intimate understanding of each other.

But they still clearly drifted apart a while back, so that while that mutual understanding and camaraderie for each other is still intact, the relationship that resulted from that isn’t where it should be, due to factors beyond their control, rather than just them losing their feelings for each other on their own. That said, they still care about each other deeply, and the fact that there are two instances in Chapter 2 in which Kris can get Noelle all blushy blushy does hint that their feelings for each other are changing into something more than just platonic friendship.

Not to mention how Kris blushes when they hear Noelle talk about getting flirting lessons from them in Chapter 4:

But there’s another factor that more people should consider, one which I think is impacting the tea more than anything.

2) YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I really don’t think people give a lot of credit to how much the player impacts Kris and Noelle's relationship and how they (re)develop it. And would you know, that impact also extends to their respective teas (especially when you consider the meaning behind the Weird Route). An interesting thing to note is that when Noelle drinks Kris’s tea, she gets excited as she tastes cinnamon, only to notice it has a “strange aftertaste.” And seeing how Noelle points out TIME AND TIME AGAIN that Kris is acting like their usual self, it therefore stands to reason that YOU, THE PLAYER, are impacting the effect of the tea.

Our control throws a giant wrench into their opportunity to reconnect with others as they would and SHOULD normally do. And I don’t know about you, but I think it would be kinda hard to connect with your estranged childhood friend and share how you feel about them and everything else if your personal agency was severely hampered by an unfeeling cosmic horror in the shape of a red heart.

In fact, this is very much a recurring theme throughout the entire weird route: that Kris and Noelle can’t genuinely reconnect because our presence is sabotaging it. Granted, there is something to be said about how Kris shows more enthusiasm drinking Susie's tea and gets more out of it and therefore they should show just as much enthusiasm drinking Noelle's tea, if not more so. Thus, our control shouldn't impact how they express themselves when drinking it, should it?

However, even so, I don't believe it's a huge issue for Kriselle's validity since it's Kris' relationship with Noelle that's primarily affected by our actions, rather than their relationship with Susie.

Long story short, it is not unreasonable to conclude that the reason for the Kris and Noelle's tea lacking effects is not due to them lacking feelings for each other or them not wanting to have a relationship with each other, but rather: A) the estrangment they experienced when they were both little, and B) the effects of the player's control on Kris.

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spaceinmyhead13 · 7 hours ago

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Chapter 266

Im going to say this out of the gate: I totally fucking forgot this chapter happens lmao. It's been so long since I read this part of the novel that the whole spanking bit hit me like a truck going 55 in a school zone...

First off, lets start off with the obligatory simping:

GOD I LOVE WOMEN HOLY FUCKING SHIT I WANT HER TO HOLD ME LIKE THAT HOOOOOOOO BOY. I'm so fucking in love with her holy goddamn shit. She's so damn cool and strong and I feel like she'd make the best goddamn pancakes.

Anywho...

Absolute funniest part of this chapter has to be, as I would describe as; "Get Scuffed Idiot"

He legit weighs as much as a cat to her and I think that's so fucking funny. Girly really went "This man is a wild animal so I must treat him as such" and she's right.

Of course, we cant have a chapter with out inflicting Yoo Joonghyuk with emotional damage, and of course he tries to run away from his problems to much failure.

He's so cute when he's tied up

And WOW did I forget this scene existed. Holy shit did the artist not have to go this hard with showing him get his literal ass beat (not that I'm complaining). Really gives me some great ideas for fic nonsense but that's for another time.

And Yoo Joonghyuk, darling, why are you thinking about Dokja while you're getting you ass smacked? Is there something you'd like to tell us????

My god he's so fucking hot. I'd never say this about real men but holy smokes did they not have to write him looking so fucking good while being pounded (literally!). I swear to god this frame justifies my entire head cannon that YJH acts tough and mighty but in reality he does not wear the pants in any relationships. Motherfucker looks like he's straight out of an erotica with that goddamn waist curve goddamn.

All in all this chapter hits like a truck and I'm so happy to have it in my ever growing arsenal of "situations I can put YJH in for fan fictions", new addition: spanking!

Not a lot of lore going on in this chapter other than the look into the 2nd turn during the first few panels, but that was already pretty well established last chapter so I didn't feel the need to go over it again here. I do love that we keep getting hints that Jang Hayoung is indeed a female (since Namgung Minyoung directly says that "this one is my type") but Dokja is just a fucking idiot. I do like that this is subtle though, since readers who haven't read the novel wont really understand why it's so important that she's a female until a bit later. I'm really looking forward to this entire arc since it starts to develop YJH and KDJ a bit better while they're apart from the rest of the company, and it starts the deep dive we'll get into later about the sheer amount of emotional trauma YJH carries with him (which will later be expanded on in the 1864 arc in 2 arcs from now).

#orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #yoo joonghyuk #kim dokja #spoilers #orv webtoon #this one is a bit spicy ngl #shipping #god I love women #orv novel #orv novel spoilers #well kind of

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radicaldreemurrs · 2 days ago

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ok you are going to have to elaborate on your transfem kris reading. like are they still nonbinary or are we making them a girl. bc if its the second one 😬

well, you're the one ascribing the binary of options here, you tell me.

obviously i'm not forcing them into a binary position, i too am a nonbinary transfeminine person, and also not an idiot. "nonbinary" is already an umbrella term with infinite depths of nuance (it has not been made clear if it's even one they identify with!!), and i think the only case in which kris would be "a girl" is being susie, who already has implications of nonbinary feelings going on with her, too!!

but kris is so, so visibly written to be read as having been coercively assigned male at birth. the chapter 3 egg sequence has signs that proclaim that "THIS IS A MAN'S WORLD", with one sign that feels almost hastily compensating: "NON-MEN ARE A-OK, TOO!" the way that noelle describes riding a ferris wheel with them as "forced", and how that hurts susie just as much (susie also has many implications towards being a trans woman violently alienated from femininity), is textbook internalized transmisogyny, with this idea that trans women are actually men preying on girls like noelle who can't fight back. NOT TO SAY NOELLE MEANS IT LIKE THIS, she probably doesn't realize how much what she's saying hurts and why it does, but her parents are not the most especially on the level with this stuff (rudy is kind of a misogynist even if he plays it off), so we can see where she gets it.

kris themself is also forced into a position of inflicting violence on monsters with a sword, a distinctly male role in older video games. the chapter 3 secret boss route elaborates on this a lot further, especially around their dysphoria based in being a human in a town of monsters, being someone who could quite possibly kill everyone in town without any difficulty, based on how humans are described in undertale. their struggles with identity are definitive to so much of the game, including ralsei, who as mentioned in a previous post is kris's gender feelings projected off of them and into their shadow so they can focus on the grim task at hand. but while having to deal with all of this, kris and ralsei have begun to develop apart, and kris is starting to see things they want to be outside of what ralsei is defined by, they're starting to break out of their old dreams and have new ones, ones about susie, dess, dogs. cool girls have an impact on them, they want to be something like that.

does this mean they have to be A Girl? no, there could be plenty of nuance to all of this, just like with anyone. they would still probably present androgynous, or at least like the cool older girl that wears flannel all the time. they might flinch away from wanting to be called a girl, and that would be completely understandable, because they are well within their right to have complicated feelings about it. don't just break it down into "are they Nonbinary or are they A Girl" as if that's not creating another visible binary. it's not so black and white. you can be many things. you can be a boy and a girl at once. no one can stop you from identifying however the fuck you want.

#mail #anonymous #deltarune spoilers #it's not rocket science.

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arcane-fox · 9 hours ago

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Odi my love, thank you so fucking much for everything you do. Your support while I was writing this, planning it and fretting about it all was so important to me. I hope you realize how much I value your support on this series and tbh all my writing, you are always in my corned and I am very lucky <3

This comment is everything. It was so important to me that this not just be a dark fic with no real direction or character development. I hope the momentum carries over into the other chapters where we will be getting a bit more angsty (go figure... I am always drawn to the angst lol).

Thank you so much. Im glad you enjoyed the filth, the smut and the plot along the way 🫶🫶🫶

Legion Profligate (1/4)

Series Summary: Caesar’s Legion is invading the Mojave Wasteland. After your unfortunate run in with their horrific atrocities, a high ranking legionary spares you for one sole purpose.

Pairing: Dark!Acacius x Female Reader Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI WC: 8k (AO3) Chapter Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. VERY DARK. NONCON/DUBCON. Stockholm Syndrome, Explicit Smut, Violence, Power Abuse, Slavery and Forced Breeding, Age Gap, Derogatory Language, Creampies, Cum Talk, Unprotected PinV, Oral (m!receiving), Angst

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Epilogue

Notes: This is a Fallout/Acacius crossover mini-series set during the events of Fallout New Vegas. You do NOT need to be familiar with Fallout to read this series. Huge thank you to Odi @thedilfdiaries who has been my biggest cheerleader for this series and my beta. Also huge thanks to Aly @iamasaddie for reading this over for me and giving me great feedback and courage. Endless love and gratitude to you both!

Series Masterlist | Notifs | AO3

It had been over 200 years since the atom bombs fell. The nuclear war that changed the globe forever. 200 years of radiation. Starvation. Violence. Factions splintering across the country and still fighting for the scraps of a forgotten world. A never ending fight for survival that became the new normal for every generation to come.

War never changes.

Word had spread across the Mojave that the Legion was pushing further West. The relative safeness of the settlements protected by the NCR was eroding. They had fewer soldiers to spare for protection and instead were mobilizing to protect the more important towns bordering the Colorado River and New Vegas.

Sunhollow was not a priority outpost, and the Legion could smell blood in the water. The New California Republic was struggling to hold on to its territory.

They came just before dawn's first light. At least 100 legionaries surrounded Sunhollow and the first wave charged in with spears and machetes. Snipers picked off anyone who tried to flee. Some of the citizens fought back but they were no match for the brutality that the legionaries wielded.

Just four NCR Rangers were stationed there and managed to take down several Legion soldiers with their submachine guns before they were overcome. They were quickly captured. They were gathered at the center of town and burnt alive on the pyres. Frightened townsfolk were slaughtered as they tried to run and their bodies were just left to rot with the rising sun. Everything smelt like death.

This raid was nothing but a slaughter. The men were either crucified or beaten to death. The youngest children were rounded up and enslaved. The older ones were left to share the same fate as the men. They had already been influenced by the NCR values and could never be indoctrinated into the Legion. It was not worth the risk. Unlike the tribal towns that lived peacefully without the influence of the NCR, no man at Sunhollow was given the choice to pledge their loyalty to the Legion.

The Legion referred to anyone in the NCR as profligates and used it like a filthy slur. An annoying blight to be removed and the last real opponent in their path to taking over the West. They stole nothing, instead just leaving behind an aftermath of death and blood and fear. Their numbers were growing, and their patience dwindling. Smaller Legion camps like this one had an eagerness to exterminate the outlier towns while final preparations were being made to wipe out the NCR Army once and for all.

After hearing about the atrocities at the town of Nipton where only one person was left alive, this war has progressed far beyond just disrupting supply lines and taking out NCR soldiers. They wanted to demoralize anyone left standing with the NCR and eliminate anyone who shared their values.

Personal liberties were not granted in the Legion. Everyone served Caesar and if you were to oppose you would be killed without question. The youngest and newest recruits were always used as front line attackers and many of them knowingly gave their lives for the cause, because it was what they were trained to do. Those who proved themselves were able to move up in the ranks with better weapons and armor. Loyalty was rewarded. This made the fiercest and most competent fighters the best equipped to survive.

You had learnt all about the Legion while working closely with the NCR Rangers. The only reason you were in Sunhollow was to accompany a trade caravan delivering medical supplies between outposts. You were spending a few nights resting before heading back West. The trade route was relatively safe until recent months and you knew the risks. You could handle yourself with a firearm while the mercenaries took out the big threats. Not this time. You along with everyone else in Sunhollow were not prepared for this.

Reading pre war books you had a wealth of knowledge on the Roman Empire too. You were fortunate to be raised to understand advanced literacy. While many people only knew how to read and write the bare minimum, it had become something you excelled at and leveraged in your line of work as a merchant.

A useful skill that at this moment felt incredibly useless. There was no reasoning with legionaries and being an overly educated woman was a threat more than anything. Something to keep to yourself and blend in as a cooperative and docile captive.

You dropped to your knees in a line with other “lucky profligates” that were temporarily spared. They made you watch the relentless slaughter of the townsfolk. Watching grown men cry and beg for mercy before receiving a beating or a blade to the throat. Your caravan of male colleagues had long been decimated. Being a healthy, young woman was the only thing keeping you breathing for now.

You gathered that the pair of soldiers with the red plumes fanning across their helmets were the infamous Centurions. Rising to their comfy position because of their proven brutality. Their presence here was an indication that this was more than just a raid. They seemed to be accompanying a more practically dressed legionary administering the fate of the remaining captives.

He walked back and forth along the row of women with bound hands, denoting many of them ‘unfit’. They were dragged off into the town hall by hungry wolves eager to have their way before taking their lives. Judging by the screams coming from the building, none of it was merciful.

He didn’t wear a helmet, and his armor was splattered in blood. His machete hung at his hip opposite of his sidearm, adorning his traditional looking black and gold roman armor with nuclear age weaponry. The Legion was known for following the military structure of the ancient Romans, right down to the armor.

He stood in front of the town hall, presiding over the soldiers assembling more crosses to crucify the remaining men. Observing the newly made slaves who were tossing bodies of their friends into the pyres. He looked tired of it all. Tired of wasting potential resources for the sake of spreading fear and demoralization. You caught the subtle way his expression was less enthusiastic, almost as if he found these immoral deeds repulsive. Or so you imagined. You were desperate for any sliver of hope that could save you at this point.

Acacius, you heard the other men call him. You deduced he was some sort of higher ranking Legionary. He had a red tunic with gold accents under his armor, making him stand out. His armor was more ornate, too, with a golden Medusa emblem on his chest. Golden claws decorated his pauldrons. The worn, black patina of his armor made him look menacing and regal.

“Ave, Caesar,” he said as he nodded to some of his men, appearing to give them permission to string up the unlucky souls. They did so without apprehension but his face wore a hint of disgust. It was easy to miss, but you were watching him intently.

He was older than many of the others. Grey flecks throughout his scruff and his messy, dark curls. Sullen eyes and an aquiline nose. His shoulders were broad and commanding with a more tapered waist. His arms and legs were solid with lean muscles and he exuded power from every angle. His meaty thighs proudly showing exposed flesh between the pteruges on his skirt and above his leather greaves. Legs that could chase you down in an instant. His body was built to fight and built to win with or without a weapon.

He carried himself with a confidence that his word was absolute, and to challenge him would be met with his raw strength. Everything about his presence felt powerful and unforgiving.

He was… handsome. An observation you lamented given the situation.

He kept evaluating you with intrigue and finding something about you worth keeping around for now. You couldn’t stop trying to sneak a reading on him either. It was a dangerous game, but one you couldn’t seem to withdraw from.

You also overheard one of the younger soldiers quipping quietly about his leadership. Criticizing him for sparing the lives of profligate women and children. How instead they should be slaughtering everyone to make an example, even the ones that had their uses. His eyes scanned over you as he said the last part with insinuation.

Acacius apparently heard it too, as it sparked him to take action for mocking his command.

“Hold your tongue, or you will join these bodies,” he threatened as he brandished his machete and pressed it to the soft flesh under the chin of the mouthy soldier, who cowered back. “You know nothing about building an empire.”

The soldier steadied himself, submitting only to get out of his situation. Even you could see this one was a loose cannon.

“Yes, Acacius,” he conceded with a fake docility.

“Disobey me again and it will be your last breath.” Acacius stepped forward as he spoke those words and pushed his chin upward with the blade. A trickle of blood ran down his neck as he punctured him with the tip.

His eyes caught you watching him and his face hardened, hiding any traces of morality as he sheathed his weapon. Your curiosity had overstepped and you had seen too much.

You looked away, but could still feel him on you for a moment longer. Your gaze dangerously fluttered back to him as if he was willing you to look again. His penetrating glower investigating your misplaced interest in him.

His body was still running on the adrenaline from the bloody slaughter earlier. Unlike most other men in higher ranks who still had unsullied armor, he was in the thick of it all. Ruthless and leading with brutality. He wasn’t just executing orders. He was an expert killer and didn’t happen to be in his position by accident. He demonstrated his skills in battle, and the snide comment he overheard sparked a primal rage in his core. How dare anyone question him?

It was a wishful and foolish thought to find any sympathy in the Legion. You try to look away as he steps towards you, bracing for the blade that was sure to follow.

He grabbed you by your neck and forced you to look him in the eyes. To his surprise, and yours, you met them with prowess.

His gaze caught the two-headed bear badging on your shoulder. A mark of NCR allegiance. It enraged him.

“Get up.” he barked. He towered over you as he pulled you up by your bound hands. “Make yourself useful, Profligate whore.”

Your words stuck in your throat and you were silent. He was going to make a demonstration of his savagery, at your expense.

–

You could hear some sneers coming from some of the nearby legionaries as he pushed you up the stairs and into the nearby building. They were laughing at your misfortune like savage hyenas as you were being paraded into the lion's den.

A few more legionaries were inside, forcing themselves on captive women. Out in the open, it didn’t matter to them. They were barbaric. Celebrating their victory with some casual rape and torture. It was abhorrent. They seemed to have more privilege and were able to indulge in their spoils. Their helmets resembled war bonnets, decorated in black and red feathers. Some of them wore red face wraps or darkened goggles, making them look even more menacing.

Everything about the Legion was so hierarchical and you figured they must be Decanus. Commanders under Acacius. Middle management. Leaders. Dangerous men who got away with too much and still had too much to prove to ascend even higher. At least they were easy enough to pick out.

When they saw Acacius the room tensed. He fanned his hand out to signal that there was no need to stop what they were doing. His silent command was somehow even more intimidating.

Your chest tightened and you bit your lip to stop it from quivering. This was not a fate you would wish on your worst enemy.

You turned to face him and tried to plead with a whisper, choking on your words in panic. He ignored you and pushed you into the middle of the room. You fell onto your forearms and knees, grabbing the attention of others who started to eye you like a piece of meat.

He stood above you like a conqueror and used his foot to turn you on your back to face him. His expression was cold and dutiful. That morality you swore you saw earlier was gone.

He kneeled down with his legs spread over you and pressed his body up against you. You struggled underneath him, fighting for your life as he caged you in. His hand wrapped around the front of your neck and tightly held it as he leaned over your shoulder. He spoke softly in your ear but with a vulgarity and crudeness that made you shudder.

“You can be a whore for my men, who will use you up until there is nothing left. Or, you can behave and perform your duty to me as Caesar sees fit.”

You knew what that meant. The only duty women had was to be bred to make more soldiers. You heard the horror stories. Women were not free in the Legion. Nobody was really, but women had it the worst. The healthy and docile ones were relegated to breeders and the old and young used for slave labor. All of them were property to be used by the Legion men whenever they wanted. Anyone not compliant or too smart for their own good was killed. They only needed your body, and nothing more. You were either indoctrinated into the Legion, or your life was taken.

Your survival instincts kick in as panic courses through your body. You can fight it or you can accept the hand dealt to you. The luxury of living is dangled in front of you with a cruel ultimatum that will likely end in death either way. You know for certain you are not ready to leave this world at the hands of being torn apart and defiled by multiple barbaric men.

This was just one man. One large, powerful man who was giving you a choice.

You give him what he wants and signal your obedience by relaxing your body under him. Your heart was hammering out of your chest with an obscene thud and he felt your fear pulsing through your veins. It was turning him on and you felt him swell between his legs.

The pressure on your throat left you unable to speak and he pushed against you even harder as you struggled to breathe.

“That’s a good girl,” he growled into your ear.

If you cooperated maybe it could earn you another day to live. Another day to figure out what the hell you were going to do.

His hand relaxed on your throat as he pulled back to stand up. You gasped for the air you were finally afforded. He stripped your tattered clothes off your body with little effort and flipped you back over onto your stomach.

You lay there, prone and paralyzed with your bound hands outstretched in front of you. Naked and shaking.

Acacius took off his belt and with it tossed his weapons to the side. He freed his hardness as he stepped out of his underclothes. Crudely, he spit into the palm of his hand and spread it along his cock and kneeled down between your legs.

His leather bracer slid roughly across your skin as he worked an arm under your belly to lift up your hips. He made just enough room to slide his hand over your mound and grab you with a rough hold. Blood and grime was still covering his body and the metallic, earthy smell made you recoil. You winced at the feeling of his filth making contact with you.

He propped you up on your knees with your forearms supporting some of your weight while he nestled up to the plush of your ass against his hips. His massive form looming behind you made you feel even smaller and more insignificant than you already were. You had zero leverage.

Your mind was racing. How many women had he taken in this way? How many women had chosen this same fate? How likely was it that after he fucked you he would take pleasure in killing you too?

Those thoughts fell to the wayside as his middle finger abruptly dragged into your slit, gathering your wetness. You didn’t expect your body to be preparing you like it was. Betrayal or gratitude, it made no difference.

“Mmm” he groaned as he pushed two of his fingers into your hole. “You actually want Legion cock, don’t you?”

His absurd question goes unanswered and you resent your body.

His rough, gritty digits worked you open and it couldn’t even be considered a poor excuse for foreplay. He wasn’t priming you for a good time. This was about him taking what he wanted, when he wanted and how he wanted. Prying you open so there was as a little resistance as possible when he inevitably drove into you.

He pinched at your sensitive bud to see if he could draw a sound from you and scoffed when you did, as if to mock you for reacting to his touch. He cupped your mound hard and jammed his fingers back into you, splaying them inside. He teased more pressure on your clit with the heel of his hand until he was convinced you would be able to take him. Whether you were ready or not, he would make it fit regardless. That much you were certain of.

You could feel his length getting harder against your ass. You tried to calm yourself from the panic that ensued when you realized how massive he really was as he began rutting his hardness against you. Sheathed in a needy, primal rhythm that was picking up tempo.

Deep breaths. You closed your eyes, focusing on breathing as you hung your head low and braced for what was to come. He tore his hand from you and left you empty for the briefest moment.

He wasted no time lining up his cock with your slit. The spongy head leading the way for his engorged member. Tapping it against you as he started to rut into you with fervor. Splitting you open with his thick shaft.

Your eyes went wide and you cried out with a pained mewl. Not only was he denying you time to adjust to his size, but he was so swollen with need. The girth of his cock complimented his broadness all over. The pain from the stretch seared into you like a hot knife. Your eyes tightly shut and tears fell.

He pushed you down into the floor as he fucked you. His hands clawed into your hips, trying to hold you up and pulling you into him until his weight had you pinned under him. The floorboards scraped against your skin each time he pounded into you, making your knees and elbows raw.

Your hands were clasped together in an iron grip. The rope around your wrists felt like it was getting tighter the more you struggled.

The rough leather strips of his armored skirt slapped into your skin as he thrusted, drawing his full length out and driving it back in even deeper. Again and again. Forcing himself into you and taking up all available space, greedy to make more room.

His groans were loud and animalistic. He was overcome by his nature and held nothing back. Pounding into you with ferocity. Each thrust harder and more urgent to lose himself inside you.

“Please…” you horsley pleaded to him. “Please…” you didn’t know what you were asking for, you just wanted it to be over.

You turned your head so your cheek was pressing into the floor and tried to gaze up at him. His focus on you was unwavering, boring into your soul. The darkness in his eyes had zero regard for your attempt at thwarting his intensity.

He didn’t let up.

As his cock twitched inside you felt him slow his pace, but not his force. You could feel him starting to come undone as he began knocking at your deepest parts. The tight coil in your belly started to unwind.

Fuck no, please no. You pleaded to yourself.

You resented your body for how it started to accept him inside you. Your walls clenched around his heat as he fucked you harder and harder. How could your body betray you so cruelly to give you any semblance of pleasure from such a vile man? The heavy drag of his cock against your ridges stirred something inside that you wanted to bury away, but it clawed itself out.

Despite where you were it felt like everything shrunk away and simplified. It was just two bodies fucking and teetering on the edge of bliss. Allowing your mind to escape into a place where it would be ok. A place where you could give in to the growing heat in your belly and revel in the way it washed over you.

The pretty moan that escaped your lips was enough to send him over the edge before you could choke it back. He heard you unravel. Your convulsing walls gave you away anyways, and he knew he had you. Squeezing him tightly as something dark and sinister released within.

He grit his teeth and pulsed inside you, drawing from you a whimper. You could feel his hot cum filling you up as he panted, emptying his balls and painting the depths of your cunt with his spend. He fucked it deeper inside you until he finally started to soften and still.

The room was silent except for his heavy breathing and your despondent sobs.

The tears streamed down your face as he pulled out of you and hovered on all fours over your broken body beneath him. His hand wrapped into your hair as he yanked your head up so your ear was to his mouth.

“You’ll take my cock when I give it to you,” he threatened. “I’ll fuck this profligate cunt until my cum is the only thing left inside you.”

The grip in your hair tightened as he urged you to acknowledge him. His hot breath puffed against your ear with each labored exhale.

“You hear me?” he snarled. His grip was painful on your scalp and you winced.

“Yes, Ac-” your reply trailed off, not knowing if you should dare say the name you overheard.

“Acacius.” He enunciated boldly.

“Yes, Acacius.”

Content with your reply, he pushed you back onto the floor. You laid there afraid to move or speak another word.

He redressed and adorned his weapons. Ignoring you laying there like a discarded plaything he lost interest in.

Except that, you didn’t know it, but he felt drawn to you in a way that he knew he had to have more of you. You intrigued him in a new way. You weren’t weak like the others, and you were observant. He wanted to challenge your resolve and break your spirit to succumb to him without hesitation. You saw something in him that he tried to hide away. Something inappropriate and unbecoming of a legionary in his position. Your dissolute temptation had to be snuffed out before it took hold on him and yet he couldn’t bring himself to take your life. Not yet. He had to try to tame you first. Fuck it out of you and taste your fruit before it spoiled.

You wondered why you were spared. Surely keeping someone like you alive with strong NCR convictions would be a great risk for the Legion. Maybe he wanted you to tempt him. To challenge him. Maybe it was all a game for him to see if he could turn you to his side. Or maybe he was waiting for you to fuck up so he could have his fun in new ways.

It was all too much to think about when your fate was teetering dangerously at the hands of the enemy.

“This one’s mine.” He casually commands to the other men as he walks away from your disheveled body without as much as a glance back.

Mine. The tone of how he referred to you so nonchalant replayed over and over in your head. What did that really mean for you?

Whoever he was, he had authority. You felt like you made a deal with the devil. Sold your soul and to what end?

You could feel him leaking out of you as you shifted to curl your arms against your chest and draw your legs together tightly. You wanted to shrink away and disappear. Wake up from the nightmare.

What the fuck were you going to do now? Was this your life now? To be bred and kept like livestock and bolstering the future generations of Legion until you died? The thought of such a bleak destiny made your head spin and your heart race.

You lay broken on the floor, catching your breath between tears. Feeling empty where he stretched you open. It was a hard feeling to reconcile. You had no concept of how much time had passed, only that it felt eternal, and you felt alone. Wanting for something that you couldn’t define.

None of the other legionaries touched you, but you could feel their eyes on your broken body. Feel how much they wanted to. Perverse thoughts and immoral intentions being projected at you with their hungry gaze. Leaving you there vulnerable and subdued felt as much a test to them as it was punishment for you.

You felt the tiniest comfort inside that you could not quite explain. Not gratitude, but some faded semblance of it. Acacius had been merciful in a twisted way. He stripped you of your dignity and your freedom, but he didn’t give you to the wolves.

–

One of the decanus commanders came in after some time and approached you assertively. His face was covered up with a red cloth and black goggles, and his helmet was covered in black feathers flowing backwards. He looked ready to run into battle.

He tossed a garb at you. A plain, linen dress style tunic except for a red X painted on the front. The mark of a legion slave.

He brandished his knife and reached for your wrists to cut the rope binding your hands. The marks left behind were raw and bloody.

Without your hands bound it changed very little other than some minor relief. There was no place to run and no way to escape without being hunted down in an instant. If you didn’t get picked off by a bullet, one of the mongrels would make quick work of you. Even if you somehow managed to get away, you would die in the Mojave with no supplies. Your hands were more useful to them being untethered and put to work. You weren't going anywhere.

With your new found freedom you threw the dress to the side and turned away from him, wrapping your arms around your knees to withdraw the best you could. Was he expecting you to be grateful for something to cover up with? You’d rather be naked than wear those dehumanizing rags.

What came next caught you off guard.

The sting of his hand on your cheek shocked you. He had backhanded you, holding back nothing. The delayed pain came with a vengeance and your eyes welled up with tears.

“Put it on and get outside with the others. We’re leaving.”

You did.

–

You and the few other women left were all given the same modest garbs to wear. Easy access for the taking whenever they wanted to. The thought made your stomach churn. They didn’t even give you proper footwear. You were expected to march with what were essentially socks.

You didn’t speak to the other women and they didn’t speak to you. They were all behaving compliantly. In shock from the neverending atrocities. Shells of their former selves. They had been broken too, just as you were. You didn’t know any of them from your short stay at Sunhollow and that realization further exemplified the feeling of truly being alone.

You were rounded up between two formations of soldiers and followed in line with the others as you moved out. You were given supplies to carry and you wondered how your body could possibly manage this for miles. It did, because there was no other choice.

The sight of the pyres and burning buildings reminded you how Sunhollow would be forever transformed into a desolate graveyard. Inhabitable and soon the scraps would be picked over by raiders until nothing remained but bones and ashes.

You only saw Acacius from a distance. He had cleaned up since your last encounter with him, no longer covered in blood and his armor polished. He had a crimson cape draped over his pauldrons and was positioned to the front of the march. He looked regal and intimidatingly powerful.

He was leading the Legion onward to the next place to destroy. Legionaries near him were holding red banners with the signet of the bull. Anyone within eyesight of them wouldn’t dare intervene with their march. The Legion’s reputation for cruelty and brutality made them feared by everyone.

An unexplained pit formed in your stomach. He felt so far away and unreachable. While it should be a good thing to get as far away from him as possible, somehow it felt wrong. Dangerous even. It was hard to reconcile with the way you felt.

You were safer with him than without.

Crucified bodies lined the street as you were led away from your past life. Walking towards an uncertainty. You wondered if you would be better off to be strung up like them. At least their battle was over… until you noticed a few of them still breathing and left to die in the sun with a slow and agonizing death.

You followed in line with the others, silent and defeated. Marching onward with strangers to an unknown future.

–

It didn’t take long for your intuition to be proven right.

After a full night and day of walking across the Mojave with minimal rest, the army made a proper camp for the night. Basic tents were quickly setup along with fires to cook food and stay warm. Everything was done with efficiency like a well oiled machine.

The tents were basic and simply used for sleeping quarters. No comforts other than a bedroll. A place to rest with a fabric roof over their heads. Everybody was beyond exhausted and quickly off to sleep after eating. A few guards stood on the outskirts to keep watch, but for the most part, it was quiet. Almost peaceful with the stars above looking extra bright in the night sky.

You recognized where you were from your extensive time on the road with the caravan. You were following the Colorado river, and heading closer and closer towards New Vegas; the heart of the Mojave. The place where sooner or later the big showdown between the Legion and NCR Army would come to a head. Hoover Dam and New Vegas were the big points of contention, and you had been strategically distancing yourself as things escalated. Now, that was completely unavoidable.

You and the other captives were left out in the open surrounded by tents in the cold, night air. The only comfort was the rags you were laying on and letting your feet rest. You were exhausted, and barely had time to think about it before falling asleep.

You were startled awake when you felt a cold blade graze your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered open and you started to panic and let out a shriek until the man pressed his knife across your throat, daring you to make another sound. If anyone else woke up, they pretended not to see anything.

“You think you’re special, don’t you? Well, I’m gonna see what’s so special about you myself.”

His eyes were blown out, black with evil intention. It was this time you recognized this was the same soldier that was mouthing off about Acacius earlier. You had humiliated him without meaning to, and he wasn’t going to let that go.

“No profligate is worth keeping alive, even if she’s a looker.” His tongue wet his lips and your face contorted in disgust. He was a repulsive man.

The soldier was reaching his arm up your dress and you didn’t dare move a muscle with your throat a hairline from being slit. You tightly closed your eyes and heard a loud blast. A gunshot. Hot liquid splattered on your face. Blood.

Acacius came out of the shadows and silenced the legionnaire with a single bullet to the back of his head.

His lifeless body fell to the ground with his hand still resting on your inner thigh. Running his mouth had, yet again, been his downfall. Alerting Acacius who was restless in his nearby tent, and masking his footsteps.

Your heart was pounding with adrenaline from the close call, and gratitude for your savior. You looked him in the eyes and they were dutiful. He was protecting his spoils on the outside, but you saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes if he had been too late.

Acacius dragged the body off of you and spit on his fresh corpse after he said something disapproving in a latin tongue. His insolence had reached its limit, and his now dead body was left there as a reminder that insubordination had consequences.

The commotion at this point had awoken several of the men. The prying eyes of the obedient soldiers accompanied silence. They knew better. That soldier had it coming and Acacius had swiftly ended that incident.

You locked eyes with Acacius again, and he simply nodded towards his tent and turned on his heels.

You got up to follow him, trailing behind like a lost puppy as he went back to his tent. A modest, semi-private cloth housing with nothing but a bedroll and a few supply crates. The thin door covering did nothing for sound but it provided the tiniest privacy from prying eyes.

His armor was laid near his bedroll along with his weapons. He tossed his sidearm in the pile and raked his hand down his face. He was wearing just his red tunic and looked so much more vulnerable; unarmed and frustrated.

You feared following him to his tent was overstepping, but your adrenaline high from the recent assault made you do it anyway.

“Thank you,” you gazed down, afraid to see his reaction as you approached. Afraid he would disapprove of you speaking to him.

He reached towards you cupping your chin and forcing you to look up at him while he pulled you in closer.

“No one is going to take what’s mine. Nothing more than that.”

There it was again. Mine.

His words were dismissive of what this really meant to you, but you could see through him. Now in a more private setting without the eyes of his subordinates he didn’t have to put on an act. There were cracks and an opportunity for you to explore his true intentions. Was he claiming you just for the sake of control or was there something more? He seemed brash on the surface, but underneath maybe you could strip away the noise and see what kind of a person he really was.

He let go of your chin and pulled a rag out from a water bucket by his feet. He wrang out the excess and held your face against the palm of his hand while he wiped the cloth across your cheek. The bridge of your nose. The other side. Wiping away the blood of the man who dared to touch you. He was being gentle. Tender, even. He wasn’t making eye contact, focused instead of brushing away the filth.

You watched him intently. Impossible to read, but you couldn’t deny your intuition. He had a guilty aura about him. Guilty for what the man tried to do to you, or sympathetic for bringing you into this cruel world to begin with. You were going to find out.

“Clean yourself up,” he said quietly as he handed the rag to you to finish the job. You could feel the blood still sticking on your skin and imagined you must be a sight.

You kneeled next to the bucket and washed your skin the best you could, relishing in the cool kiss of the water's touch.

Acacius groaned as he sat on one of the supply crates, using it like a chair. His posture was so tired and almost docile. It was hard to imagine he had just killed a man with zero remorse. Unphased by taking a life.

What overcame you was that same undefined feeling you had earlier. You wanted to be closer to him, and give him a reason to want you close. While he had just saved you, you had only narrowly escaped.

You crawled on your knees in front of him, slowly and with an eagerness to thank him. His tired eyes narrowed on you as kneeled between his legs.

You reached for the hem of his tunic and found his cock half-hard. You gazed up at him with glossy eyes.

“Let me thank you properly.” You paused with apprehension.

His cock twitched at your offer but he kept his face stern. It was hard to read him and know if you were overstepping or if this would be condoned. You swallowed back your hesitancy and pushed on, hoping for his approval.

You slid your hands up his thighs and pushed back his tunic all the way to his belly so you could have unobstructed access. You opened your mouth and let your tongue poke out, giving his tip a lick and placing a kiss. It was almost playful. You weren't sure what came over you, but you embraced it when he stifled a sound that you recognized. A pleasurable groan.

Of course any man would enjoy this act, but this was a man that was used to taking. Not this unsolicited softness you were bestowing on him.

He tangled his hand in your hair and urged you in closer, using his other hand to hold his cock steady at the base.

“Knew you’d be a good girl for me,” he said with a low and breathy voice. The praise from his words made that darkness inside you stir again. You wanted his praise.

You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, lapping gently at his leaking slit and relishing his flavor. You could sense his body was tired and resigned to letting you do all the work. It felt like a test too, to see how much you would do without him forcing you. See how much you wanted him and how far you would take this on your own volition.

You took in more and more of his length, letting your tongue lick up the underside of his cock and feeling it stiffen even more. You were just now able to really marvel at its size. He was thick and weighty with a slight curve to the left. You traced the prominent vein that trailed along his shaft with your tongue, pulsing under your touch. You were getting sloppier with your mouth as he was getting harder and it was becoming a lot more to handle than you were used to.

The tightness in your core was starting to wind up. A heat spreading that called for attention you tried to push aside.

Your hands left the tops of his thighs briefly to reach for his balls. They too were hefty and he stifled another moan as you worked them with your fingertips. He seemed to really enjoy that and you had a mind to give them more attention with your mouth if he didn’t have such a grip on you already.

He was fully hard now and jerked into you, losing some control. You relaxed your throat enough to let him thrust inward. Your hands returned to his legs to brace yourself as he bucked a little too hard and you gagged on his cock. The throaty groan he made watching you struggle was heavy with arousal.

“Easy. Take me nice and slow,” he ordered. It was easier said than done when he was the one bucking into you. He brushed his thumb to push back your hair and you melted at his tenderness and how his hands engulfed you effortlessly.

You relaxed as best you could, taking in more and more of him. Both of his hands were twisted in your hair now, pulling your head to bob on his length slowly. He wasn’t holding you tightly, but you could feel his fingers curl into your scalp when you hollowed your cheeks.

You looked up at him and saw his mouth parting open slightly. His eyes were intently locking with yours. He was submitting to your tongue in a way that felt new for him. Relinquishing some control even if it was just for a moment.

You savored the pearly beads of precum that trickled out and wanted to receive more. His musky, sweaty scent combined with the saltiness of his taste made it all feel so raw and primal.

Seeing your mouth stuffed full with his cock made him twitch even more and you could tell he was getting close. He was trying to pull you off of him slowly. You sucked the tip hard and it made a wet pop as it released from your lips.

It was turning you on too, and you could feel how wet you were getting between your legs. You initially just wanted to placate him, but it felt like it was becoming so much more. You wanted him to spill into your mouth so you could drink him down. Hear the way he moaned when you sucked him dry. It was a thirst that overtook your reasoning and you mouthed his tip again in defiance.

There was a shift in his energy. That dutiful look returned as he fought against your needy mouth.

“Not wasting my cum in your throat.” His words came out biting but heavy with need. Reminding you of your role to play.

He yanked you off sharply and pulled you up to straddle his lap. Sitting over his meaty thighs he hooked his hand behind your back to hold you in place. You reached your arms out to hang off of his shoulders.

He grabbed the base of his cock and dragged the head along your swollen clit. He was already wet from your spit, but he gathered your slick for good measure. You moaned when he pressed into your clit and you caught the way he looked so pleased with himself. He was studying how your mouth gaped from his touch.

“Needy thing you are,” he groaned, low enough that you wondered if he meant to say it out loud.

You were good and ready, and he wasn’t interested in waiting any longer to get his release. He pulled you down hard on his length, filling you to the hilt in one motion and looking you dead in the eye when he did it. Watching you gasp at the stretch and your eyes widened. You were so needy for his cock and it felt right having him inside you again. The pain from the sudden invasion inside your body was overtaken by euphoria. The emptiness finally being soothed.

He held you like that for a moment and you wanted to beg him to move. You needed that friction to alleviate your aching hunger. He needed it too, but he was enjoying seeing you get impatient for his cock. You could feel him swell inside you and in this seated angle he nestled inside you even deeper.

“Acacius…” you whined and tried to lift up on his shaft but he held you still. He pressed his thumb into your clit and rubbed. Holding you down, impaled on his cock; unmoving. Making you start to convulse on him and moan under his touch.

“You’re gonna let me do what I want,” he said as his thumb’s motion intensified. “And I’m going to fill you with my cum.” More pressure on your clit. “Again.” Another circle. “And again.” Harder this time. “And again.”

The pleasure blooming was becoming too much and he knew he had you.

“And you're going to be begging me for it.” With those words he thrust into you, teasing the release you were chasing.

You let out a whimper and tried to speak, but your words were swallowed up by your moans. He thrust again.

“Fuck. Acacius… yes. I want..” he thrusted again “..want you to fill me.”

He hammered into you and the drag of his cock against your walls combined with the pressure on your clit was too much. Your orgasm washed over you in a way you never experienced before. A crescendo throughout your body, overtaking your flesh and soul. Clenching him and begging for him to cum.

His seed blasted into you and you felt him filling you up. His heat seeped into you as he groaned. There was so much, filling you deliciously with his cum, just as he promised.

He left you there for a moment, his cock slowly softening inside you but still plugging you up so nothing could escape while you caught your breath.

As the high of your orgasm began to fade it left you with a mix of emotions. Fucked out of your mind and also terrified of what you were getting yourself into. You knew he ultimately wanted to impregnate you, and you knew that you never wanted to bring children into this fucked up world. Still, the deep seeded fear of getting pregnant faded away when he was filling you so perfectly. He was right, you were going to be begging for it, and that future terrified you.

It also felt like a problem for another day. Right now, you had to live in the moment and figure out how you were going to make it to tomorrow. As you began to fall for Acacius, you were certain of one thing. Keeping him content was your only chance.

The tent was quieter now with you still in his lap and your shared breathing calming to an even rhythm. You didn’t want to leave his side. With him you were safe. He wasn’t going to hurt you, and he certainly wouldn’t let anyone else touch you if there was a chance you were carrying his child. It made you feel sickened to think of another potential life as armor, but it was the reality you were living in.

“Can I stay here with you tonight?” You asked, sheepishly.

There was something you could not shake about Acacius. While his words and actions were cruel and despicable on the outside, something about him seemed shaken. A legionary who showed any sort of wavering would be killed without question. Loyalty to Caesar was above all paramount. He had no choice on how to conduct himself in the eyes of the other Legion soldiers.

But you saw something in his eyes. Unexplainable but tangible. Something that gave you just enough hope that he wasn’t as evil as you thought. Maybe he was different after all. Maybe he was redeemable. Maybe he just needed someone like you to help him see the Legion for what it truly was.

You had to try.

“Not letting you out of my sight.”

To be continued…

NPT for folks who interacted with my WIPS/Masterlist

@megangovier @22thumbs @blueeyesatnight @aurorawritestoescape @mermaidgirl30

@youandmeand5bucks @jolapeno @sunshinehaze1 @exquisiteserotonin @dear-darling-dewi

@aemondvelaryon @toxicanonymity @read-and-wip @rawrxbexjealous @sheepdogchick3

@witchy-and-persnickity @theanxietyqueen17 @wynonnapascal

TAGLIST (please comment if you want to be added!)

@tateypots @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @cuppajoel @schnarfer @rifflovesjoey

@whocaresstillthelouvre @baronessvonglitter @milla-frenchy @musings-of-a-rose @jay-zzle

@darkheartgatita @slimybeth69 @cxrsed-angel @beefrobeefcal @getitoutofmymindwrites

@magpiepills @itwasntimethatdidit40 @mossy-buds @perotovar @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu

@katwriteshardy @indiegirlunited @hjzghi-blog @sawymredfox @mani-pedro

@foggymoonbanana @burntheedges @gothcsz @din-cognito @wheresarizona

More tags continued in the comments!

Please lmk if you wanna be removed or added

#lovely comments #dark! marcus acacius #marcus acacius #caesars legion #fallout smut #fallout new vegas #pedro pascal fanfiction #ppcu fandom

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colouredbyd · 2 days ago

Note

Hey Dalia, just being honest — your marauders characterisation feels off. the boys come across way too soft and emotionally perfect, like they’re always coddling each other, especially in poly fics. canon james wouldn’t act like that with sirius — they were loud, chaotic, constantly teasing and pushing each other’s buttons. their dynamic had bite, not just fluff. softness is fine, but when there’s no messiness or edge, it stops feeling like them. it reads more like an idealized version and more OC than what they were..

i really appreciate you taking the time to share your thoughts, and i want to respond thoughtfully and honestly in return. that being said, i have to admit your message threw me off a bit, and if i’m being completely transparent, it did upset me — not because criticism isn’t welcome, but because it touches on something fundamental that i think is often misunderstood about the marauders fandom as a whole.

let’s be clear: the entire marauders fandom is, by nature, fanon.

we were given a few scattered lines about these characters in the harry potter books — vague glimpses, anecdotal moments, biased memories told from the perspective of secondary characters who often didn’t know them intimately. there is no canon dialogue between james and regulus. there is no true depth to canon-era barty. even james and sirius, arguably the best-developed marauders, are still incredibly limited in how much we actually know about their real personalities, their inner worlds, their emotional depths.

so when people say “james wouldn’t act that way,” or “that version of sirius is too soft,” i have to pause.

based on what, exactly? a handful of chapters from a series that was never truly about them? a few biased memories viewed through harry’s grief-stricken lens?

everything we celebrate in the marauders fandom — whether it’s wolfstar, jegulus, poly!marauders, or any aus — is built on interpretation, on love, and yes, on imagination. and that’s not just acceptable, it’s the very spirit of transformative fandom.

as for softness, emotional intimacy, or affection between characters — that’s not a sign of poor characterization or lack of realism. it’s simply a different lens.

my interpretation of these boys leans into the emotional aftermath of war, of growing up too fast, of grief and loss and chosen family. that doesn’t mean i ignore the teasing or chaos or bite — in fact, a lot of my works incorporate it — but i also choose to explore the tenderness that canon never gave them space for. because honestly? they deserved that space, and so do readers who see themselves in that tenderness.

calling it “oc” because it deviates from your version of canon is, frankly, a misunderstanding of what fic is.

there is no singular “correct” marauders dynamic. there are thousands of versions of them across this fandom — messy, soft, angry, wild, reckless, healed, healing — all equally valid. some people want angst, others want fluff, others want realism, and some want escapism. all of it is beautiful, all of it belongs.

so no, i don’t believe there is one “true” james potter or sirius black. the james in my stories may be gentler in some moments, just as others write him more arrogant or wild. both are valid. both are fiction.

i completely understand that my style or my dynamics may not be for everyone — and that’s totally okay. you’re not required to enjoy every portrayal. but implying that emotional vulnerability makes a character “less canon” or less real is a narrow reading of both fanfic and character development. sometimes softness is survival. sometimes healing is loud laughter and quiet hands.

at the end of the day, we’re all just here to love these characters the best way we know how. i write the stories i needed growing up. i write the versions of these boys who carry their trauma, but still learn to love, and i’m proud of that.

wishing you well and all the best on your own fic journey,

#colouredbyd #d rants #can we actually stop calling certain charactarizations oc?#its all made up lols #who even cares #based on what is sirius exactly oc #such a wild thing to say

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vsa-pieldepapel · 1 day ago

Text

But alas it was not programmed

or an honest to god can't believe i am doing this, is this real life holy shit i am so excited ralsus analysis of chapters 3 and 4

Contains spoilers for both chapters, both main route and secret boss so unless you want everything thoroughly spoiled don't read. Also contains details of chapter 2.

The script dictates the play

Chapter 4 was VERY VERY INTERESTING. I will return to 3 when it comes to minor details on the development of the ralsei/susie relationship, but 4 was what cemented my view on this.

extremely shortly before the new chapters released I did snowgrave for the first time and discovered I am a weenie who can't cope with doing any bad route in toby fox games (i do want to see what happens if you make the fusion item of the thorn ring, so I will let noelle slap me and take it like a champ. im sorry kris). But it also brought forth details I had previously not considered, specifically when Susie goes into Noelle's room.

In chapter 2, if you return to the banner with the ferris wheel once ral and susie are in your party, Ral comments on how Susie must be thinking about her ride with Noelle, and he says this even if you refused to watch the scene take place (which I know because I did exactly that). Susie is not thinking about her ride with Noelle. She's thinking about the etymology of the word Ferris. Ralsei knew this event was going to happen even if he can't send the player to witness it.

When I did Snowgrave, Susie exits the same door she entered. This means there probably was no Ferris Wheel, since it does transport the two of them from a Point A to a Point B in the normal route. Ralsei seems very agitated about this and this is one of the hints we get that was thoroughly reinforced in the new chapters that he knows what events are supposed to take place and he can notice the actions of the player have made the prophecy go off course. He specifically asks Susie what she did with Noelle. My personal take is that since the weird route is you faux-emboldening Noelle by using Kris as a conduit to brainwash her into "taking what she wants" even through aggressive means, that thinking it was all a dream she took what she wanted and kissed Susie. Her refusal to tell Ralsei and then telling Kris she'll let them know later indicates to me that she's probably trying to protect his innocence and/or his feelings. I think Susie felt very cool in that moment and liked that kiss, because it's a boost to her poor self confidence to feel wanted by a pretty girl like Noelle.

Notably in chapter 4 we learn that the prophecy can get incredibly specific with the events that happen within it, down to details like Lancer calling Ralsei "toothpaste boy". Given Ralsei instinctually knows so much about how events are supposed to play out, he absolutely knows about how the relationships between the heroes will develop... which I am convinced is the reason he says "Susie must be thinking about her ride with Noelle".

And then you enter the second temple and find out

LOVE FINDS ITS WAY TO THE GIRL.

Suselle is a foretold event of the prophecy. It's scripted. He is worried about what Susie and Noelle were doing because there was a possibility one of the events that are supposed to happen isn't happening, and susie being vague about it leaves that question unanswered. Love finds its way to the girl, so after the Ferris Wheel he checks that off the To Do List of prophecy events.

Even the way that is phrased, Love finds its Way to the Girl, sets the girl as a passive receiver. I already saw someone say it as Ssuie finding love, but that's not what the prophecy says! The prophecy phrases it as "Love finds its way to the girl"!

That is the reason all of the scenes with Susie and Noelle are so saccharine and inoffensive, they have no conflict or development other than a cutesy but bland hangout. That is why you can simply speed your way past them both times they happen, once by outright skipping the scene, which has no consequences, and one by just touching the breaker and the guitar quickly (you only get all the dialogue if you stay still and wait for a long long fucking time). It is events playing out like they're supposed to play out. It is the trains following the track. I have seen people phrase the ferris wheel and this hangout as evidence that "susie and noelle are obviously intended to be shipped", and it's like, yes, exactly. That is what the prophecy says. That is what the game wants you to think.

But there is a problem

Dragon-shaped wrench

Susie does not do prophecies.

The guts stat is accepted fandomwise to be an indicator of how much the party member is up to defy the player. Susie has always had the highest Guts stat. You have never been able to tell Susie what to do. Susie doesn't do the prophecy the way it is expected.

She recognises the girl with her heart crossed with hope as herself, and she doesnt recognise the statue noelle had in her room as herself. But that Susie is using a sword, and our Susie uses axes because it's cooler. When Ralsei and her argue and make it out of the argument and he promises to be more honest, he states outright that the bows and ribbons are meant to be worn by her, which fits with the fact that she was put into bows as a kid. But Susie is gnc, she doesn't want to do bows, and so she doesn't. She is a hero, and embodies the core features of one, caring and bravery and perseverance, but she's also messy, aggressive, and loud. She is still the Hero of the Girl with her heart crossed with Hope, but she does that her own way.

She does follow the core beats of the prophecy, but at every step there is a twist to it, a subversion, because her will is just that strong.

Even if you explicitly tell Susie to flirt with Noelle in the Ferris Wheel (say something romantic), she doesn't.

Even if you tell Susie that Kris will take Ralsei to the Festival so she can invite Noelle, Ralsei is her first choice. She starts considering Noelle after it is abundantly clear that he cannot be there. She even brings this up in the susie noelle hangout in chapter 4, mentioning explicitly that there's this boy from another school she invited and he couldn't go.

Even then, she only takes Noelle as an affront to Carol, that is the last straw, what convinces her to invite her.

So love finds its way to the girl. But does the girl want it?

Boom Boom get out the way

The ghost of Gerson Boom is the secret boss fight of Chapter 4, a fight you do with Susie and ONLY susie. Considering Gerson is the first character we see shatter the prophecy holograms, which is very clear symbolism for taking things in your own hands, I'm convinced the reason he tests her and the weapon being for her is because Gerson can see that she's the one who has the strongest Guts. That she is the one that can show the gumption to do what he wants the youth to do: Take up the pen and write their own stories. Take fate into their own hands.

The dialogue in the Gerson fight is quite bluntly parallel to the major beats of the chapters, with specific turns of phrase and subversions. Obviously, the heroes don't "stop the dragon" by slaying it; they "stop the dragon" by befriending her and showing her the value of connections with others. Considering that, the fifth chapter onwards is really interesting.

Field of Pink and Gold... Pink and yellow are the colors susie's and Noelle's names and attack numbers show in the Dark World. The garden is burnt by the flames of jealousy. There is so much going on here. You have Kris there, seeing their childhood friend be gooey with their new friend. You have Noelle seeing Kris and Susie bond fast. You have Susie, insecure about the history Kris and Noelle have... You have Susie mentioning "the boy from another school". Often, perhaps. We can't know yet, of course. None of this may be true lol. But it gives me a gut feeling. And after the fifth chapter... Nothing! An open end! And Gerson asks Susie... What does she want? You have the controller, choose what to do

Going back to Susie and Ralsei.

All the way in Chapter 1-2 we have Ralsei being shocked and interested in Susie's impressive will. In the latter though there is an interesting thing he says, admiring her "selfish" tendencies, her just doing what she wants. And now we are seeing--- repeatedly--- that that's not just a seed planted in his head from observing her, but that Susie wants him to exert his will, to be "selfish". She gives him cake, and tells him to eat it all, that he deserves, at the very least, a slice. That he deserves a nice room, like the ones he has given them. Interacting with her across chapter 4 you do see her considering furniture to put in his room.

In chapter 3, if you ask her how she's doing rather than Ralsei, she's still anxious about the dark world not being real, but then she says: I wish Ralsei understood that doesn't matter that much to me. If you ask Ralsei how he's doing, he compels you to buy her some ice cream in his name, because he worries about being insufficient for her, though she desperately wants to have him around to the point she is willing to shatter the Last Prophecy to make it happen.

Contrary to the susie noelle hangout and the ferris wheel, you cannot skip these things, other than the "normal" skip of making text go by really fast. You get to see them argue, you get to see them fight for each other, you get to see Susie telling Ralsei that he can be player one; you see her promise to him that she won't let the Last Prophecy happen, filling him with wanting to live, with wanting to hope!!!, you get to see her invite him to the festival, initiating herself, regardless of what answer you gave her in ch2. Optionally, you can see them playing videogames together, you can see her giving him the cake, though she's very food motivated, you can see her deciding that he needs proper furniture, calling bullshit on his self deprecation, and all the way in chapter 2 you can see her cornered because she finds his face cute...

But Ralsei is not yet selfish.

I think he feels quite tortured. She is so nice "it makes his heart hurt". And I think on some level, this is because he knows that it's not what says in the script. That Susie should be with Noelle, because Love Finds Its Way To The Girl. But now he has all these new ideas... He feels like he can have his own opinions, be his own person. He's told it's okay to be sad. He now has to be, at least, conflicted about his own role versus his wants. And the game is very, very clear that Susie and Ralsei influence each other, often for the betterment of both of them.

Now, has anything explicitly romantic happened yet? No, there is no kiss, and no i love you. But is all that not love? Holding your bloodied hand to the face of someone you care for, an intimate touch to boot, telling him that it will be alright, that you're willing to break fate for his sake? That he will never be left behind? Admitting to finding him attractive and being taken aback by it? Learning his magic and wanting to perfect it? Finding things to make his home a little warmer because you know what it is like to be somewhere empty and sad? Is it not love to want to get someone else to do something nice for her, because you can't do it, as much as you want to? Is it not love to feel your mindset change because this person you care about introduces so many new ideas it makes you feel alive again?

Stories get boring with repetition

Tenna and Gerson actually touch on narratives growing boring and dull when you can predict them. Brother, fucking NO ONE saw ralsei and susie coming because everyone was so fixated on the predictable. Oh, it's alphys and undyne again. Oh, it's definitely gonna happen, just look at the ferris wheel. Meanwhile the story itself states emphatically that you should look beyond what you can initially see. Search, analyse. It was so subtle that I thought it was serendipitous, that toby was too dumb to realise what he was writing. I am beginning to think otherwise, and the wider reaction to it tells me so. It was unpredictable. It was not the story that gets old because it's so repetitive.

And with that I close this rant.

#deltarune #ralsei #susie deltarune #dr ch3 spoilers #dr ch4 spoilers #ralsusie #vsa art #digital #aggie.io

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ponlypone · 3 days ago

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MOVING FORWARD

Haha hey so I finally make a tribute for the arc I absolutely love from Re:Zero.

As you can see, the concept is as simple as: Those who face the imaginary Reinhard are the ones "who wish to 'save' him." While those who face other sides are ... well, they have their own agenda.

Also, I've just listened to a song that really suits Felt a lot in this arc; that's what inspired me to make this art:

"That's right. What I've always wanted to be isn't a mere heroine, but a hero who goes to the rescue." –––Suisei Hoshimachi "Stellar Stellar"

It's obvious that Felt doesn't fit the mold of a typical heroine or princess. Well, maybe the 'I've always wanted to be' is rather inaccurate because Felt's desire to relieve Reinhard's burden is only developed later on after a year of bonding. (but what can I do. It's part of the lyric LOL). But anyways, the way I see it, she is definitely the "hero" in this story. Simply because she has the desire to 'rescue' Reinhard.

Felt doesn't fight Aldebaran because she wants to get herself a good name to better her reputation for the Royal Selection nor because she particularly resents him, but because "she has the power to fight off the imminently approaching peril and for the sake of her one and only Knight, who bore the duty of being the first one to hasten into such situations." –––quoted from Arc 9, Chapter 18

So ofc I gotta draw her in a way that makes her look like the protagonist here. She's been getting a lot of highlights, after all! (Deserved)

Moving on from Felt-sama... Let's talk about Yae.

I give her a bloodshot, bombastic side-eye because, since day 1, this gurl has been wanting to kill Felt. She even puts Heinkel and Felt together because she hopes they'd kill each other. Her only leash is Al's demand to not have anyone die, ngl.

Now, Aldebaran.

Reinhard to him is simply like a lid to his extreme methods. He needs him alive, but does he care about Reinhard's well-being? Hell nah. Bro is simply one of the tools in his grand plan.

Roy Alphard.

[ashamed, tiny voice] Wow I don't really understand bro actually...! That's why I only put him behind Al and make him far from being the focus of the art, like "hehe this dangerous lil gremlin who is one of the trump cards for the antagonist."

Heinkel.

Aaah ofc he MUST look troubled. Bro has been extremely conflicted here and there since the beginning of this arc. I'm definitely not a Heinkel expert but even just reading his feelings and circumstances, you can definitely tell that he's currently being in complex situations innerly and outwardly. But yes, he is one of the rescue gang..! But let's put him rather behind because he is sneaky sneaky. If anything, I can catch glimpses that he genuinely still cares and loves Reinhard... Man . . .

Wilhelm.

Yknow, he is added rather later in my art draft. Was about to draw him lying on the ground, but no space, also skill issue. So I'll just draw him standing (because lying down will ruin the composition consistency too). Anyway, he is super beaten up from his fight with Yae and Alcanica, not to mention Heinkel's surprise stab. So far, he is out of commission; that's why this one of Reinhard's rescuers is facing downward, with frown tho. Because his last words before losing consciousness was literally something like, "Heinkel you stupid son. Bruh you think your method can save Rein??"

Smh. Honestly these 3 (Felt, Heinkel, and Wilhelm) need to just sit down and have a nice talk around bonfire while eating skewered fish whatever and discuss the best way to save Rein. (I knew it. There is none. Tappei told me btw).

Lastly, Reinhard.

In this art I sure want to emphasize his "resignation" to fate/what the world expects from him. He doesn't object; he doesn't even show effort to run away or break free from his duty. To him, this is something he /must/ do, and that's why he's closing his eyes, absolutely resigned and accepting. He doesn't even wish to be saved. His own feelings don't matter at all before his sense of duty.

Shadow hands are obviously Witch of Envy's to depict their longlasting battle.

As for the halo around his neck, it's Od Lagna (Thanks to @j2x3e for the idea btw!). Sure, he is the saint, the antibody to all the shitty things in Re:Zero world, but apparently, this monster can also feel things, and I can't even imagine how taxing it is to deal with Witch of Envy's overwhelming attacks, nonstop, no rest, can't even have his focus decreased a single bit or else world destruction is guaranteed. Soooo this saint, finds the halo suffocating, choking his freedom, even though he doesn't realize it, or maybe doesn't even allow himself to feel that way because he feels undeserving to let personal emotions cloud him. Thus why, even bloodied and surrounded by harming elements, his face is peaceful just like sleeping! :D Closing his eyes, closing himself from all the possibilities, just keep doing his duty.

Anyway, it's been so long since the last time I got so hyped and excited over a story. Thank you, Tappei.

#re:zero #re:ゼロから始める異世界生活 #arc9 #rezeroarc9 #spoilers #but if you don't read my essay thoroughly I don't think my art is that spoiler..?#reinhard van astrea #felt rezero #yae tenzen #aldebaran #roy alphard #heinkel astrea #wilhelm van astrea #wilhelm trias #hehe wilhelm trias just because #felt-sama has been so cool in this arc btw #no wonder in tappei q&a in twt he said Felt feels more like a protag than Subaru #How can I find infos like that??? Well...#I told you I'm slightly dedicated!#btw this art took around 20 hours to finish #I'm legit so motivated #firstly is because of my love #secondly is because I want to push myself beyond my limits #That's why new rendering method woohoo #Also been experimenting a lot too with colors #I desperately want to improve my art...#anyway I tried to draw their wounds as accurately as possible to the novel #I hope I did them justice

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innerchorus · 3 days ago

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Arslan Senki Chapter 139

Because nothing says last minute like writing this post on the day the new chapter is due to be released. Sorry, it's been such a busy month! Anyway, let's see what I have to say.

The chapter opens with sewer snakes aka Zahhak's on the move and currently below the city, which... feels like a very ominous start to the chapter. Is Zahhak just swimming along in there horizontally beneath the surface until the snake heads pop out?

But first, we're back with Team Hilmes and Sam's wound does not look good. He's bleeding far more profusely than Zandeh.

Sam sees the carnage in the throne room and knows instantly that Kharlan did this, unlike Zandeh and the lil mohawk guy in the previous chapter who clung to denial. Sam sees things clearly. (Which is why I think it's interesting that it's him rather than anyone else from Team Hilmes who gets the first glimpse of Zahhak. He's the first to see the whole truth of what Team Zahhak have been up to, what Hilmes has been used for.)

Emotions are heightened, and it shows in the dialogue.

Chapter 138 on the left, with Hilmes admonishing Zandeh, and Chapter 139 on the right with him challenging Sam. I've said right from the start that Hilmes genuinely cares for those who serve him and I love that and it's definitely on display here, but more than that, he's not willing to let either of them die for his mistakes.

Hilmes is prepared to give his own life if need be to correct his own wrongs (an astounding character development for someone who would have seen the whole country burn if it meant he could have his throne). There's a wry humour in the fact that he admonishes Sam for being willing to die when we saw the exact same behaviour from him in the last chapter when he stepped before Zandeh to face Kharlan.

Hilmes knows Sam's nature, so he's not wrong to suspect that Sam is seeking death (especially following their loss in his bid for the throne). After all, what is left to live for? Had we not seen Sam's resolve show itself previously when he was hastening to Hilmes's side after his fight with Garshasp, I'd have assumed the same thing. But this also feels linked to what I assume might be Hilmes's feeling of no longer being someone worth dying for.

This statement! I cheered when I saw it.

I really like this part so I'm going to dig into it in a bit more detail.

This reads to me like Sam is acknowledging that, in the wake of their failure to have Hilmes claim the throne (for there can be only one sun in the sky, and only one Shah), there is no longer a place for them under that sun, aka, no place for them in Pars itself.

Arslan said that Hilmes would have to be held accountable for his crimes. One way to do that would be to banish him (and those who still choose to serve him) beyond the borders of Pars, thus forcing them to 'live in shadow' (another country) like Sam says. Banishment as punishment fits with both Arslan's personality (we already know he won't have Hilmes executed, and nor is he cruel enough to lock him up in a dungeon for the rest of his life). Hilmes brought about the Lusitanian invasion of Pars. Perhaps the correct punishment would be to strip him of the right to live there.

As I said, Sam sees clearly. He likely knows the depth of Zandeh's loyalty too. Laying it out like this ensures two things: one being that he can confirm that Zandeh accepts the consequences of his loyalty, and the second being that Hilmes hears it and understands that no matter what, they still choose to follow him.

It also reminded me of this scene outside Zabul Fortress with Sam and Zandeh from Chapter 60:

I'm really digging the fact that Sam's resolve to live comes after Hilmes's loss to Arslan. He's not going to 'throw his life away' for the royal line, and his loyalty to Hilmes does not depend on his right to the throne. He's not backed into a corner by Hilmes's bloodline, he's choosing him of his own free will.

Meanwhile, Zandeh in Chapter 60 doesn't really seem to get what Sam's saying. Sam asks "It is the same for you, is it not, Zandeh?' and he's all ???. Compare that to the early dialogue between Sam and Zandeh in Chapter 139 and I think it's clear that Zandeh now has much more of an understanding of his own loyalty and what it means.

The fight against Kharlan feels like the first time we've truly seen the three core members of Team Hilmes operating as a true team. That is displayed in the way they work together (Zandeh and Sam's swords both cutting Kharlan's spear at the same time! Hilmes assisting by lopping off Kharlan's foot; he's not going to just stand by and let his subordinates do the work! Zandeh temporarily duel wielding with Sam's sword! And of course Hilmes shouldering the responsibility of ending Kharlan's pain) and later reinforced by the dialogue between them after the fight. I really like this new dynamic!

This feels like an important acknowledgement from Hilmes. A recognition of his own failures, where he went wrong, the harm he's done. If, as I suspect, he may eventually be banished from Pars, I don't think he's likely to protest. Team Hilmes permanent group roadtrip to Maryam, anyone?

Kharlan's last words really got me. After the fighting, it felt like a quiet end, somehow it had a feeling of dignity to it that fits Kharlan's personality. But he did also basically say to Hilmes 'a puppy is for life, not just for Christmas the Shah of Pars'.

They've never been able to banter like this before. Hilmes's hand on Sam's back here warms my heart. Even Hilmes trying to shake Zandeh off and saying that he tries his patience feels like it has an undertone of affection. I also enjoyed Zandeh respectfully asking Sam to take care of his father's head!

The face of a Zandeh who thinks he is about to be left behind by Hilmes lmao.

Arakawa is so good at double meanings. Hilmes calls Kharlan's last words 'one final curse' and we think we understand what the chapter title is referring to, but the Zahhak appears and the light-heartedness turns to dread as we realise that maybe this is the final curse. The final curse of a cursed bloodline.

For a second I really thought Sam was going to be eaten and Hilmes and Zandeh would come back to find his headless body but thankfully Arakawa must have decided that would just be too cruel after what they've all been through and our boy survives yet again!

Zahhak appears to have entered the throne room the same way that Andragoras did, through the underground waterways. Could be that the snake king wants to sit on that throne, but I actually got the sense that Zahhak was looking for something... someone? Looking for Hilmes? One of the snake heads looks down the corridor in the direction Hilmes and Zandeh went.

The snakes withdraw back into the throne room and the last panel looking through the door seems to imply they left, with the room an empty white space rather that the ominous black that denoted Zahhak's presence as the snake heads emerged. Sam, who can't exactly move due to his injuries, is left alone with the awful knowledge of what he's just seen. If Zahhak is after Hilmes, how can Sam warn him?

And then as if this chapter wasn't stressful enough, Arakawa wounded me with the last few panels of Isfan and Shapur. In just a few hours we'll find out what happens there, and if I tell you I feel sick every time I think of it...

@colleyuriko said this expression on Isfan's face feels like we're seeing something we're not supposed to, and I thought that was a good observation, because while Isfan's face can't hide his emotions, this particular expression could only be brought about by something that should not naturally exist. His brother shouldn't be here. But he is.

The dialogue here feels to me like a warped echo of Shapur training Isfan. We know that Shapur taught him everything we know, we also know that he was strict; perhaps that strictness led to him being tough on Isfan in training sometimes, knowing that he needed to prepare him for battle as best he could.

(I could be off base with that, but so far the undead warriors have behaved like twisted versions of their living selves, and this is what my mind went to. It would be really nice to get a flashback of Shapur training a younger Isfan, but in any case, I do think that whatever we're about to see next will illuminate more of Shapur's character in restrospect, and I am excited about that.)

One other thing I'm wondering... are there any mages around? One popped up after Sam's fight with Garshasp so it's not inconceivable that one is watching this go down too. You know I want it to be Gurgin because I still haven't given up hope but more realistically it might be Ghundi, who watched Isfan take down Gurgin before.

Out of Isfan and Kubard, if one of them has to take down undead Shapur it has to be Kubard. Just as Zandeh shouldn't have to be the one to kill his father, nor can Isfan kill his brother, the one who saved him (even if his brother is now trying to kill him!). As I've said before, I hope and trust that Kubard will continue to look out for Isfan. Let's hope they both survive this together!

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #hilmes #zandeh #sam #kharlan #zahhak #shapur #isfan #y'know I really enjoyed writing this post #shame it took me so fucking long

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tashtush · 2 days ago

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We Ask for Your Discretion (Chapter 1)

18+ Homelander/queer female reader, Madelyn/reader, Homelander/Madelyn. Pre-s1. Stalking, noncon, dubcon, mommy kink, praise kink, rough sex, voyeurism, threesome, corporate nonsense, manipulation, homophobia, trauma, sexual coercion, cunnilungus, vaginal sex (smut in future chapters)

AO3 | gif

Homelander has a new fixation. Madelyn does damage control.

Chapter 2

“I don’t think ‘The Deep’s Liquid Dreams’ is going to fly as a concept.”

You had been helping develop Vought’s new meditation and sleep app, VoughtMind, its conception a prompt response to the Flight 37 tragedy. After facilitating several distraught focus groups, it was determined that the answer to the nation’s unrest would be guided meditations performed by a roster of lesser-known supes. From calming tracks such as Moonshadow’s Nervous System Reset to Being Seen with Invisi-Lass, there would be a soothing balm for your existential dread.

“What do you mean?” Lisa asked with faux exasperation, barely containing her grin. “It would be a guided track, narrated by his truly. It’d be relaxing. We could even play marimba sounds in the background.”

Lisa was your long-time friend and coworker, and you were both on the same team: The “Shut-eye Squad” (a mandated nickname you chose to never utter outside of the office). You were responsible for the development of VoughtMind’s sleep feature.

“I don’t know, I think it’d be better suited for V-Rotic,” you laughed wearily, scribbling down the idea in your notebook. On some exceptionally dull, meeting-heavy days, you wished you could work for that team. While some might shy away from the task of developing super sex toys and erotic audio stories, you weren’t one of them.

You had been working as a UX designer for Vought for a year, honored by the opportunity to be a small cog in the massive, omnipresent, and culturally influential institution. You storyboarded features, sketched countless wireframes, and did your best to ensure seamless user interaction.

And to optimize all the ways a user could upgrade to VoughtLife Plus, of course.

While you had experience working in tech, nothing about your old offices compared to the grandeur that was Vought Tower. It was a force of nature, casting its shadow over the city like an unyielding, steel sentinel. Every day, you felt a small swell of pride and trepidation when you approached its entrance, gripping your laptop bag in an attempt to ground yourself.

What excited you most, however, was the fact that it was home to the Seven. Just knowing that they all slept on the 99th floor gave you a little thrill every time it crossed your mind. But despite your technical proximity, they might as well have been living on a different planet.

You knew that there were plenty of private corridors that separated them from the Vought commonfolk. While they dodged being pestered for selfies, you simply contented yourself with the knowledge that you were employed by the company that helped them save lives—or, if you were being honest with yourself, the company that released those stupid movies you loved to hate.

It was seven in the evening when you and Lisa finally finished preparing for a particularly stressful presentation. You tried to avoid working late at all costs, but you underestimated how challenging it would be to market a Deep-themed mental health experience. Lisa stood and stretched, her daily signal that she was done for the day, until her gaze landed on her desk.

“Shit,” she muttered, lifting her mug to grab the coffee-stained folder beneath it.

“What’s that? Someone’s birthday card you forgot to sign?” you asked, craning your neck curiously.

“No, I was supposed to deliver these documents to floor 79 today,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. She stayed in that position for a moment too long, then turned her attention back towards you.

“Could you do me a huge favor?” she asked, pressing the folder between her hands in a plea. “Could you run up and drop this off at the front desk? I’m already late for a dinner reservation and I won’t be here to do it tomorrow morning.”

“79? I’d be happy to, but I don’t have access,” you said. Lower-level employees were generally barred from visiting higher floors, but some, like Lisa, had special privileges when needing to relay confidential information.

“Here, take my key card,” she said, pulling it from her pocket. “You’ll have access now.”

“Oh, sure then,” you replied, plucking the card from her hand. You examined it, noticing that it looked nearly identical to yours, save for the smooth finish and gold-embossed “V”. Crisp. Corporate.

“Thanks, you’re the best,” she said with a winning smile, hoisting her backpack over her shoulders.

She made her exit, and you were left alone in the dark office, folder and key card in hand. You started toward the elevators in the lobby, listening to the low, steady hum of idle printers. It was kind of eerie, but in an oddly soothing way. Like standing on a beach at night, when it was usually so bright and bustling with activity.

When you arrived at the elevator doors, curiosity bubbled up inside you. How different would the higher floors be? You heard a myriad of rumors floating around the water cooler, and you realized that this could be your chance to corroborate them. Were there spa facilities amidst the large conference rooms, offering around-the-clock massages and steam room sessions? Would you be able to find one of the alleged corporate cocktail bars and make yourself a company-funded cosmo? You once even heard that they got John Legend to perform in a break room for some VP’s birthday, while the biggest surprise you ever got was a box of assorted bagels. But again, you weren’t complaining. You loved bagels.

The elevator doors opened and you stepped in, surveying the sleek grid of blue, glowing buttons. You’d never been this high up before. You’d never had a reason to be, and it almost felt like you were committing a crime when you held the card against the adjacent scanner. It only just occurred to you that there was definitely a camera pointed at you—that you could get into real trouble, and anxiety twanged in your chest when you heard the telltale beep of confirmation. You pressed “7” and “9”, doing your best to assuage your fears. It was late. No one would notice you–and if they did, they’d be too exhausted after a long day of meetings and trying to care about anyone but themselves. Security would probably be too preoccupied with trying to keep people out of the tower, rather than deal with one errant employee.

You weren’t about to miss the opportunity to find that spa.

The elevator began to ascend, and it wasn’t long before it came to a smooth halt. The doors opened, and an employee you’d never seen before quietly shuffled in to stand in front of you. She was dressed sharply, had a clearly intentional hairstyle, and was generally just more put-together than you. You stood uneasily, feeling self-conscious in your jeans and what now felt like a much-too-whimsical sweater. Before you could stew in discomfort for too long, however, the elevator stopped just moments later, and she filed out as quickly as she entered. You breathed a small sigh of relief. After a few more seconds of imperceptible ascension, you idly wondered at what floor the slacks ended and the three-piece-suits began. With a bright ding, the doors slid open once again.

You froze. He was wearing a different kind of suit.

“Hiya,” you heard him say, his voice clear, masculine, and practiced. The voice you had heard on-repeat for years, that lived in every household, movie theater, and classroom across the country. It could command a stadium, stop any criminal dead in their tracks, and apparently cause your heart to drum violently against your chest.

It was Homelander.

With his strong jaw, coiffed blonde hair, and startling blue eyes, he was even more handsome in person. That, in combination with his impeccably clean suit and perfect posture, made him emanate an aura of otherworldliness.

He strode into the elevator, entering “99” into the console with a gloved finger. He then stood casually beside you, behaving as if this wasn’t one of the most surreal moments of your life. He wasn’t especially tall, but he might as well have been 6’5” with the sheer weight of his presence.

Should you say something? You shifted awkwardly in place, fingers gripping the folder like a lifeline. You had to say something, right? You shot him a sidelong glance, daring yourself to break the silence and not squander this once-in-a-lifetime encounter.

“Um, I’ve never pictured you taking an elevator,” you said a little too quickly, a little too quietly. What? You immediately regretted opening your mouth. You figured that this is what people meant when they said they were starstruck.

You saw the corner of his lips quirk up slightly before he turned his head toward you, his strangely unnerving eyes making contact with yours. The elevator suddenly felt very small, and the sensation of his proximity to you amplified considerably. He paused for a moment, then leaned toward you, raising his dark eyebrows in a question.

“Well… how do you usually picture me?” he asked slowly, a tinge of unmistakable amusement in his voice. His eyes flickered downward for just a fraction of a second, so quickly that you might have imagined it. You felt your heart continue to pound as he awaited your answer, painfully aware that your ability to banter was compromised.

“Flying head-first through windows?” you said, shrugging your shoulders sheepishly. “Though, I-I guess that isn’t very economical.” Your voice trailed off into an awkward silence.

He let out a huff of a chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a charming smile. The elevator came to another halt.

A few more executives filed in, and you turned away from him, trying to salvage any of your humility by playing it cool. After the elevator continued, the console’s digital display finally settled on floor 79. Relief flooded you, and you shot him a smile before hastily stepping past the open doors. You only saw his face for about a second, but it was all the time you needed to notice that his grin had fallen, his eyes staring at you as the door slid shut.

You felt like you could breathe again, as if you had suddenly emerged from being underwater for minutes. You wandered to the front desk in a haze, realizing that it would probably benefit you to listen to Mister Marathon’s latest collaboration with VoughtMind: Outrunning Panic.

—

The next day, you couldn’t keep Homelander out of your mind. Was he teasing you? Could he have actually been flirting? You replayed the encounter over and over in your head for approximately… all day, so much so that the presentation you were dreading all week was demoted to an inconvenient afterthought. What felt monumental to you was likely just a mundane second of his (larger-than) life, so you tried your best not to dwell on that possibility.

He was charming. That was his thing. It was one of the qualities that made him so damn lovable whenever you watched him speak heroic to the public. He was often very flirtatious with the female talk show hosts who effortlessly coaxed answers out of him, even the most seasoned of professionals failing to suppress their girlish giggles. You were just another inconsequential pull of his magnetism.

When you arrived in the office that morning, you immediately had to tell someone about it. Anyone. You beelined toward Ami, a copywriter on your team, and quickly recounted the night’s events. She stopped in her tracks, swiveling her desk chair to slowly land in your direction. Her jaw literally dropped.

“That’s crazy that you say that,” she said, “I actually saw him this morning while I was grabbing coffee in the cafe.”

That was strange. A whole year working here, and you hadn’t even heard of him being anywhere near your floor.

“Really? Did you talk to him?” you asked in a hushed voice, not even trying to hide your excitement. Meeting Homelander was a big deal, even for a Vought employee.

“I didn’t. He was giving extreme ‘don’t even try to talk to me’ vibes. He ignored me. Honestly, it was kind of unsettling,” she said, grimacing slightly. “It didn’t surprise me, though. I’m sure people are usually begging for his attention. It looked like he was talking to a manager or something, but I have no idea why,” she shrugged.

“He looks older in person,” she added off-handedly. “Still hot, though.”

“Hmm,” you responded absent-mindedly, fingering the key card that was still nestled in your pocket. You wondered what the odds were that Homelander would meet you in an elevator and then immediately visit your office the next morning. It was almost certainly a coincidence. He was known to dip his boots in all kinds of products, from star-spangled defense weapons to top-brand cereal boxes. You remembered seeing a meditation concept scribbled onto a whiteboard called Sounds of America, complete with a single bullet point that read “eagle sounds”. Maybe getting Homelander to do voice work was the execs’ chosen hook for getting the app off the ground. Everyone was scrambling to release an MVP in response to Flight 37, so getting him to record guided patriotism was guaranteed to draw attention.

You weren’t able to get any more answers from your circle, not even from Lisa, who blew up your texts with a full-on interrogation. You both delved into every minute detail of the encounter, analyzing everything from his body language to the tone of his voice. It was thrillingly juvenile, but you quickly ran out of material to wring from your memory.

Lisa: What did he smell like?

Me: I don’t know. Nothing?

Lisa: boring

Lisa: you know, he could probably smell you

Me: Stop. ✋

It was then that you knew it was time to put the phone down.

You had no other choice but to simply continue your workday, the annoying need to earn money competing with your racing thoughts.

—

The following Friday, you were leaving a conference room after an exhausting, four-hour workshop. Ever since the allegations about the Deep had surfaced, it was mandated that the entire company go through extensive sexual harassment training.

You woefully chewed on a granola bar as you walked down the hall, fueling yourself for another two hours of fighting the urge to fall asleep. You turned a corner, and to your bewilderment, you caught another glimpse of that damn, iconic flag cape. You promptly turned back again, and you had never felt more like a cartoon.

It was him. Again. But this time, he wasn’t alone—he was talking to a woman, and the sounds of their hushed voices carried down the hall. You felt absurd hiding behind the corner, but with your current track record, you didn’t trust yourself to remain calm. You peeked over just slightly, trying to make out who she was; maybe it was the manager that Ami had seen him talking to in the cafe. You squinted, and her features finally came into focus.

Madelyn Stillwell?

Yet another celebrity you thought you’d never meet. Again, why was the Vice President of Supe Management anywhere near you? She was much shorter than you imagined, even with heels, but she still projected refined, intimidating professionalism. They were deep in discussion, and to your horror, you realized that you needed to pass them to get to your next meeting. You took a deep breath to ground yourself, reminding yourself that you were an adult, before emerging from behind the corner. As you walked toward them with as much nonchalance as you could muster, you started to pick up a snippet of their conversation.

“–Listen, just–just don’t worry about it,” he said impatiently, waving his hand.

“We’ve discussed this,” she said firmly.

“Okay, okay. Jesus.”

They were taking up most of the walkway, so you angled your body to quickly sidle past them. You saw him glance at you for the briefest of moments in your peripheral vision, but you made it to the door before you could catch anything else.

You had never heard him speak so crassly before, which was saying a lot, considering it wasn’t all that crass. You weren’t one for piety, but it still surprised you to hear him take the “Lord’s name in vain”. He was involved with Capes for Christ, after all. You’d only ever seen his squeaky-clean media appearances, so you shouldn’t be surprised that he had his rough, unedited moments like everyone else.

During the following weekend, you became cognizant of just how inundated you were by his face. When you went on your customary shopping run, you saw it on billboards, posters, bus benches, and on at least ten percent of the products you found in the grocery store’s aisles. You were even haunted by a statue of him while enjoying a picnic in the park, his large, stone likeness looming just feet away from your blanket.

When Monday evening came, you were walking home to your apartment when you swore you saw something—someone—flying through the sky.

It had to be the Frequency Illusion. Because Homelander was all you could think about, your mind tricked you into believing that you were seeing him everywhere.

Sometimes, you even thought that you could feel him.

It was like you were experiencing a sense memory, your body reacting the exact same way it did when he stood next to you in that elevator. It was incredibly odd, but you easily brushed the phenomenon aside. You were having too many late nights worrying about the fate of your project, and you were prone to letting your imagination run wild when you were sleep deprived.

As the days turned to weeks, however, your obsession gradually died down. Homelander once again receded into the backdrop of your life, joining the ranks of other set dressing such as street signs or Taco Bell. Life finally resumed its typical, relatively boring thrum.

You salvaged your work, got drinks with your team, and routinely melted into a puddle on your couch. Work, fun, sleep, repeat. Your run-in with Homelander was reduced to a fond memory, an escape to the time he maybe flirted with you. It was a story to be told at many parties to come, a fantasy that would keep you warm on lonely nights.

—

You came into the office early one Monday morning, wanting some uninterrupted time to catch up on the work you blew off Friday. You had an unusual pep in your step, iced coffee in hand, as you approached your desk in the empty room. As you began to water your plants, you noticed a sleek, black envelope placed directly beside your keyboard. You looked around at the surrounding desks, realizing that no one else had received one.

You slid your finger to break the seal and pulled out a piece of paper, its texture expensive under your thumb. Vought’s logo was engraved in the upper right corner, signifying that this was an official correspondence. Curiosity consumed you, so you scanned the page’s contents as quickly as you could.

Please join us for our 5th annual

Gala for Crimefighting Bigotry

Saturday June 27, at seven in the evening

The Vought Palace Ballroom, 871 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY

Black tie attire

You stared at the elegant typeface, still not understanding why you were the only one invited. You flipped the paper over in the hopes of finding an answer.

As a member of the Super Spectrum Alliance, you are cordially invited to Vought’s fundraising Gala for Crimefighting Bigotry. We’ve selected you as part of an initiative to celebrate the richness of our company’s commitment to diversity.

We stand for truth, justice, and the importance of sexual identity to both our heroes and employees.

Join us for an evening of food, drinks, raffles, and a special performance by Melissa Etheridge. All proceeds will be donated to The Born This Super Foundation, which provides resources for at-risk LGBTQIA+ youth.

You looked up from the invitation and stared blankly ahead, trying to process what you had just read.

The Super Spectrum Alliance was essentially Vought’s pride club, founded by some well-meaning queer employees a few years back. You attended an SSA meeting once, but quickly abandoned it when you learned it was usurped by a suspiciously straight member of the People team. It was apparently an attempt to ensure all club activities and discussions fell in line with company values. Regardless, your name must have been included on the member roster.

The invitation read like code for “you’re one of our resident queers and we need you to look good for the cameras.” You weren’t upset, though—quite the opposite. In fact, you felt a jolt of excitement as the implications finally hit you. These things were exclusive.

Incredibly wealthy people attended these. Supes attended these. You had seen footage of similar Vought events on the news and gossip forums alike, knowing full well that this was a deeply coveted position you were in.

As far as you knew, you were the only openly queer employee in your corner of the office, so you were certain you wouldn’t have a familiar face to cling to. That considered, you weren’t about to not go. This was an insane opportunity; if not for your career, then for the chance to enjoy an evening of the finer things (like winning something stupidly expensive in a raffle.)

What would it be like? Would you manage to mingle with the elite, camouflaging yourself with shop talk and unearned confidence? Or would you sit at the bar the entire time, scrolling through your phone to distract from your inevitable social breakdown? Probably the latter.

You spent the first half of your morning browsing photos from past galas, needing to emotionally prepare yourself by knowing what to expect. You scanned image after image of philanthropists in glamorous suits and dresses, clutching their champagne flutes with an ease that only came with money. You would also occasionally spot a supe socializing within the sea of bigwigs. You saw Queen Maeve smiling with politicians, Translucent wearing a bow tie (and nothing else), and many more heroes of varying levels of notoriety. You stopped scrolling when a photo of Homelander filled your screen. He was enchantingly mid-laugh while presenting an award to someone, and you were once again struck by how attractive he was.

You thought about him for the first time in over a week, his intense expression between the closing elevator doors flashing in your mind. Would he be there?

Also, more importantly, what the fuck were you going to wear?

#homelander x reader #madelyn x reader #homelander #madelyn stillwell #homelander fanfiction #homelander x you #the boys

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