#some things are never going to change no matter where you go and its difficult to share emotions when you can barely understand them

[azurejacques]

My favorite and also least favorite part about being a linguist is trying to figure out what the linguistic landscape of a fantasy world is. Not only that, but really good authors can use language to tell the reader things and convey themes. Take the Locked Tomb universe; we learn basically nothing until Nona the Ninth, where we learn that the Houses speak seemingly one single language, simply referred to as "House." We learn that House is also spoken as a lingua franca on Houses-occupied planets, that is, as a language of trade and communication so that people of all different backgrounds may communicate (the role that English plays today in real life), and that there are dialects or at least accented versions spoken in local communities. When the broadcast from the Empire occurs, Ianthe Naberius mentions that it will be translated into the, if I recall correctly, ~15 local languages. This really paints a stark contrast between the Nine Houses and the non-aligned/Blood of Eden-controlled planets/human settlements— the houses all seemingly speak the same language, they may have each developed their own cultures to a degree, but John specifically made everyone as uniform as possible after the Resurrection; cf. Wake's claims of cultural and linguistic genocide. Meanwhile, in human settlements outside of the Houses proper, different varieties continue to flourish and cultures remain distinct and alive. One thing that has bugged me as unrealistic about this is that naturally, over 10,000 years, language is going to change, and I mean drastically change. Even if you created the Houses with one, uniform culture and language, they're going to splinter no matter how centralized you make them, especially if one house decides to go all isolationist (cough cough the ninth house cough cough). But, to be fair, Tamsyn's characters never mention accents of their own within the Houses, nor do they mention a lack of them I believe, so it's possible that variation does exist and it's simply not mentioned. A more fun idea, though less realistic perhaps (of course the most realistic thing is just that this isn't something the author considered too deeply as I do not believe she is a linguist lmao), is that the static nature of language in the Houses is a parallel to the static nature of death and necromancy, death has lost much of its meaning, so why not preserve the form of a language too in an unnatural and death-defying way? It would be yet another aspect of the Nine Houses that John could control, and we know he's got a thing about control.

Anyways I started this post to do a little rant on how I always am trying to decide what accent to give characters in my head, and it turned into this, so... there's gonna be a part two where I talk about Red Rising probably! Anyhow Gideon speaks with an American accent in my head 100% I refuse to change that, Not Sorry. Also god it was difficult but I've managed to get fairly good at doing a NZ accent in my head for John. My deepest fear is that House is really just NZ English and that everyone speaks like a Kiwi and I'd die trying to read every single character like that in my head lmfao. Sorry to the great nation of Aotearoa New Zealand, I just have not consumed enough of your media to make it easy to replicate in my head. Another aspect to think on that I am promising myself right now I won't go into it too much, but it'd be really interesting to go into how John's Māori identity interacts with his identity overall; he clearly speaks at least some Te Reo, yet it seems clear that he was willing to forsake his identity and language when creating his new (fascist) utopia after the Resurrection. But that's not something I really feel I can speak on lmao, so I won't!

[golden-redhead]

Squid Game's Final Season & The Suspension of Disbelief Baby Problem

The more I think about it, the clearer it gets that the whole Baby Thing in Squid Game s3 was... maybe not the best idea. I can understand where the writers came from and I actually genuinely think that on paper it was a pretty interesting idea. I also realize that it was definitely meant to be largely symbolic and we shouldn't expect it to be 100% realistic. Squid Game never tried to act like it's about realism, it was always about the message and the commentary on human nature and the system we live in.

The thing is... Well, there's symbolism and then there's expecting the audience to ignore very obvious flaws that need to be overlooked for said symbolism to work.

First of all, this whole subplot reeks of being written by someone who never had to deal with a newborn. Which, on its own, is fine. The idea that you should only write about things you are familiar with is, frankly, quite silly. Truth be told, I don't have any experience with dealing with newborns either. However, even if you don't have any first hand experience or knowledge about how newborns operate, common sense still makes it very difficult to buy the way everything played out in the story.

The birth scene itself was honestly silly if you know anything about how it works. And I assume it was even more silly for people who have actual experience giving birth or assissting someone during the process. Like, I can accept that it happened fast, even if it is a little unbeliavable, it is still within the realm of possibility. Some births are easier and faster than others, that's true, but even then, birth is messy regardless of how long it takes. There's blood, sweat, poop and all kinds of nasty stuff. And all that applies to a 'normal' birth, you know, in the hospital and with medical professionals around! Then, there's the pain and panic that would have only been made worse by the reality of being in the middle of a killing game. Not to mention how it was a non-sterile environment full of blood and dirt with no way to properly care for a baby that's born too early and to a first-time mother who's in a lot of pain from additional injuries and trauma. And speaking of the mother, even after giving birth, most people are too exhausted to keep going. Jun-hee didn't look even half as bad as she should have, considering everything her body went through in a small amount of time. She should be still actively bleeding and honestly, it's surprising that a potential infection or excessive bleeding didn't kill her first.

Even when you account for things like adrenaline and accept that some things had to be simplified in order to work on screen, there are just way too many elements other than the things related to the birth itself that don't make any sense. And that's all without even getting to the obvious issue of a newborn baby's needs, such as frequent feeding and diaper changes. Or the crying which would for sure drive everyone crazy, especially at night when the adrenaline of the games wears off and people are trying to rest. Or, you know, the serious risk of the hungry and dehydrated baby getting an infection, especially since it has basically no immune system to speak of.

And then there's the jumping rope game... Have you ever heard about SBS? The Shaken Baby Syndrome? Much older children are at risk of serious injury and even death from being shaken. I find it very hard to believe that that baby wouldn't suffer after being shaken, jostled and moved around like that. Oh, and then there's also SIDS. It's short for Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. We don't exactly know what causes it, but some babies die despite being perfectly healthy and taken care of. It's just one of these things that seem to be out of our control. If it can happen to children who have all of their needs met, imagine how much higher the risk was for Jun-hee's baby.

Honestly, I could keep going, but... No matter how you slice it, the creators expected A LOT from the audience by demanding that we overlook all of these issues. And that's assuming that you are even willing to overlook it in the first place. Which, frankly, I think is quite hard, considering how many lovable, actually well-developed characters had to die for the sake of that baby. The baby that not only very clearly didn't look only a few days old but also required some pretty bad use of CGI at some points.

Again, I realize that it's less about the baby and more about what the baby symbolizes, especially in Korean culture. It's pure, it's innocent, it's a representation of what could be a better future. I just think that all these things I mentioned above, along with a shockingly defeatist ending for Gi-hun, make it very hard to accept the way the final season ended. This sudden lack of realism taken to such an extreme doesn't help either.

In fiction, we often talk about suspension of disbelief. All fiction requires that to some extent, with some genres or kinds of media expecting more of it than others. The problem is, despite some of pretty unbelievable elements, Squid Game was always pretty deeply rooted in reality, especially when it comes to its characters. I think it's the reason why it resonated with people as much as it did. It's taken to the extreme, yes, but we all can understand the idea of being betrayed by the system. We know how it feels to be constantly beaten down and how one mistake can spiral out of control and ruin our whole life. We realize that life is unfair and that the uber wealthy prey on the poor and uphold a system that's designed to keep us in check.

So, by suddenly going out of its way to make a pretty unbelievable situation work against all odds and have that baby survive when no one else did, the creators demanded a lot from its audience. I think this is where a lot of disappointment and disbelief comes from.

[mmywanda]

Dandelion — W.M

chapter one of Forbidden Pleasure

—

Pairing: CEO!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you decided to join your family's business, you had no idea the ceo of the rival company would be so.. alluring. men & minors dni!

Warnings: None.. yet ;)

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: My first series! I promise it’s going to get more exciting soon, this was just setting things up.

Beta read by @poulengp <3

—

You'd never been into business. Despite your family being famous for their own very successful company, Nexus. No, you preferred working in that little library, where it was quiet, and the most stressful it got was when someone returned their books too late. Why would you want to be involved in a business full of money hungry people who think of nothing but financial success?

So that was precisely what you told your father when he called you up one Saturday morning, trying to persuade you into following in the footsteps of the majority of your family. And what didn't help your case was the fact you'd be laid off from your job, as there wasn't enough funding in the library to keep all four employees.

"I don't want to be a part of it, dad, I've told you this so many times." You spoke between chews, the crunch of your slightly burnt toast echoing through the call.

"You're twenty two, (Y/N), it's time you step up and join us. You could be valuable to the team."

You rolled your eyes, "And what value would that be?" Both of you knew that you'd passed through college with barely average results, and was lucky to have found a decently paying job that didn't require better grades.

"You're good with people, we need that."

Glancing over at the small stack of bills across you on the kitchen table, you sighed. "I don't want it to change me." What if you turned into an emotionless robot? And had to work behind a desk everyday? And that desk may be on the twenty fourth level of a glass tower building?

"You won't change, I know you."

Doubt swirled around in your mind, eyes scanning the small apartment you lived in. You would have to find a job soon, though it would be difficult given your low qualifications and lack of experience. Here you were, being offered a job that would most likely be well paying.

"Fine. I'll do it."

—

The first matter of business was shopping. Your wardrobe consisted of cardigans, faded jeans, a skirt you refused to ever wear again and a few shirts that looked very outdated compared to the modern city you lived in.

Walking into a clothing store that wasn't your typical go-to was scary. You'd chosen a different one so you could find more professional outfits— because you'd probably be kicked out of the office if you were to walk in wearing your usual attire.

"May I offer you some assistance?" A woman appeared in front of you almost two seconds after you'd stepped through the automatic doors. Her eyes scanned you, as it was obvious this was your first time in that store.

You smiled, shaking your head, "No, it's okay thank you. I'm just browsing." When she left with a nod, you walked to the pants section, looking at the wide selection of styles, material and colours. You didn't even know where to begin. Eventually you decided that darker shades like grey, black or navy would be appropriate. Picking a few out, you folded them over your arm, ready for the dressing room later.

Next was shirts, that just like the pants, had a very large selection, perhaps even more. A sigh left your lips.

Twenty minutes later you'd accumulated clothing items and two pairs of shoes. It was a bit of a struggle to get to the dressing rooms, and once inside a cubicle, you dropped the pile onto the stool. Another sigh left your lips. Is this what business people went through every year? Well, probably every month, based on what you knew of business people. Granted, your only knowledge of business style was from The Office, and it wasn't like that show was renowned for its fashion sense.

Trying on a few outfits, matching different things, you decided on what you would purchase. Making your way to the cashiers, you avoided the gaze of the store assistant.

"That will be three hundred and eleven dollars, fifty cents." The cashier's bright smile almost smoothed over your shock, but not quite. Three hundred and eleven dollars?!

As much as you wanted to apologise and leave to find a store that had cheaper prices, you wouldn't be able to handle the judgemental stare of that woman. So, you got your card out and pressed it against the card reader. When it let out a double beep, indicating it hadn't been approved, you tried again, to which the cashier said, "You have to put your card in. The contactless limit is two hundred."

Your face flushed. If it wasn't obvious that you hadn't spent this much money before, it was now.

That evening, you laid on your couch, staring at the cracks in your ceiling, instant ramen in a bowl, cooling down from its boiling temperature. You thought about what would happen tomorrow, your first day in the office. Well, you knew you wouldn't have a desk job exactly, you'd be more like an assistant to any of the managers or executives— whatever that meant.

Trying to shake your mind of all the worries, you ate your ramen, despite it burning your tongue. At least it was a distraction from the overthinking anyway.

—

You woke up with a start, phone alarm blaring. Your first instinct was to sit up, but an ache in your neck forced you to pause. It seemed you'd fallen asleep on the couch, head having been in an awkward position all night. You thanked the you from yesterday who set the alarm in preparation and had placed the phone beside you.

It didn't take long to put your chosen outfit on, but what did take long was pleasing the perfectionist in you. You stood in front of the mirror for a while, adjusting your hair this way and that, fiddling with the simple silver necklace you were wearing.

"It's no big deal, (Y/N), you're not going to meet anyone important on your first day."

That's what you kept telling yourself during your journey to the office building. It took a train and a four minute walk until you reached your destination. Walking into the lobby, you were struck by how sharp, clean and unnecessarily big it was. Pale marble flooring, bright white walls, even brighter ceiling lights despite it being a sunny day outside. And the very large 'NEXUS' logo on the far wall. Your shoes squeaked against the marble, and you wondered what sort of material the soles were made out of. Perhaps the marble was made to mock people with shoes worth less than a thousand dollars.

"How may I help you?" The receptionist asked as you approached him. You smiled, masking your nerves.

"I'm (Y/N), I'm meant to be starting my job today."

He nodded quickly, suddenly sitting up straighter, you assumed because he believed he would get in trouble if he wasn't the most professional he could be in front of his boss's daughter. You then noticed his name badge that read 'Evan'.

Evan picked up the reception phone, tapping a few numbers before speaking, telling someone that you had arrived. The conversation was short.

"Take the elevator to the ninth floor, first door on the right." He pointed you in the right direction. You gave him your thanks and then found yourself inside the small metal box also known as an elevator. You hated them, though you guessed it would have to become part of your routine now.

Once arriving on the ninth floor, you examined the decor— plain walls with an occasional framed art piece (the kind that looked like a toddler had painted that would sell for millions).

Hearing distant voices coming from various closed doors, you decided dallying wouldn't make the start of shift any easier. You found the first door on the right, knocking lightly until you heard a familiar voice call out— "Come in." So you did.

The office was spacious, a desk in the middle, and seating behind it was your father. He gave you a warm smile, standing up with an outstretched hand. You mentally sighed at his usual strange way of greeting family members. You shook his hand before taking a seat in front of him.

"It's good to see you here, when was the last time you visited?" He prompted, clicking his silver pen against the table.

"A few years ago, the Christmas party."

You remembered it begrudgingly. The night you fell onto a table that happened to be seating several ice filled buckets for the champagne. Let's just say it was an extremely humiliating memory that always made you shiver. The chill of the ice had never quite escaped you.

Your father chuckled, nodding as he recalled the same night. "Ah, yes. How could I forget." You rolled your eyes, refusing to smile until he changed the subject. "Anyway, let's talk business."

He pulled out a new planner journal, handing it to you. Flicking through it, you noticed a lot of dates neatly jotted in. You gave him a questioning look.

"My assistant kindly added important dates and meetings."

Your eyes widened slightly, "I'm going to join meetings?" That was something you hadn't expected.

"As a note taker, for now." His expression showed how keen he was for you to progress in your role and reach a high position in the company on your own. He wasn't going to get you a higher job just because you were his kid.

Scanning the dates written down for the current week, you saw there was a meeting scheduled for today. Anxiety immediately bubbled inside you at the thought of being in such a professional setting with equally professional people, as an inexperienced ex-librarian.

"Don't worry, (Y/N). It's not a huge deal." He hesitated, before correcting himself. "Okay, it is a big deal."

You groaned, leaning back in the chair that you had to admit was very uncomfortable. "What is it about? Stock shares or something?" It was very obvious that you pulled the term out of your very limited knowledge on business that lived in the back of your brain, because your father's eyebrows creased in amusement.

"It's our annual meeting with Maximoff Industries. And let's just say our companies have difficulty clicking."

The name 'Maximoff Industries' was familiar. You knew that they created things in the technology area, and as it so happened, Nexus did too, so it was no wonder they didn't 'click'.

"How do they normally go?" You had to gauge how terrible the experience would be for you. Scenarios ran through your mind, the most rational being; raised tones, interrupted sentences, perhaps even a few cold glares (gasp).

"We have a small partnership in a few products, so the disagreements normally stem from financial shares, and what name is listed first under the annual report. It normally ends in a handshake though." He attempted a smile, but it was clear that he had a very strong distaste for Maximoff Industries. "It doesn't help that their CEO, Wanda Maximoff is a.. difficult person to get along with in terms of business."

"Why?" You asked, wanting to know what to expect in the meeting, even if you were going to be sitting in the corner.

Your father sighed, leaning back in his chair. "She's.." He thought for a long hard moment. "She has this look, like she knows more than you, like she's superior. And she very obviously craves control over every situation without explicitly expressing it. It's infuriating, but hard to explain."

It didn't seem like much to go on; having a certain expression and craving control. Wasn't that a description of half of the earth's population?

Your father checked his watch, "It's going to start in twenty minutes." You internally panicked, because you hadn't expected things to start so soon. He smiled kindly, leaning forward in his chair a bit.

"It's okay, (Y/N), you're not going to be talking." That didn't exactly reassure you, because it meant you would have to maintain a calm act in case anyone looked your way.

"Alright, let's do this." Faking positivity was the first step, right?

—

The meeting room was empty when you and other representatives from Nexus walked in, including your father. They all took their seats, presumably their allocated ones. There was a chair set aside from the very long table, which you guessed was for you. Sliding it backwards a bit, you sat, spending a very awkward minute trying to decide how to position your legs. Should you cross them or not? Before you could come to a decision, you heard people entering the room.

You looked up, counting five very professional looking businesspeople. Thinking that was all, you opened your notebook, until you sensed one last presence. Glancing across the room, a woman entered.

She was dressed in a black suit, white shirt and heels. Hair brunette with lighter streaks, eyes a deep shade of green. But the overriding feature of this woman was her aura. Everyone in the room fell silent, most of the Nexus members seemed to have a polite but forced smile.

"Ms Maximoff, it's good to see you." Your father announced, making a small gesture with his hand to indicate for the woman to sit at the opposite end of the table— although she'd already done so.

"Yes, it's a pleasure, Julian." Wanda Maximoff replied, her tone smooth, with an underlying accent you hadn't heard before. It was very alluring all the same. You noticed she'd addressed your father by his first name.

"How have you been? I heard y—" Your father began, until he was cut off.

"Let's just get to business, shall we?" Wanda's hands rested on top of the table, revealing her many intricate and no doubt expensive silver rings.

"Oh, yes." Julian cleared his throat, gesturing to his coworker, a manager to start the presentation. You tried your best to quickly note down the points the manager was making, including comments from the other company.

But you felt your attention slipping, because from your angle, Wanda Maximoff was just to the left of the presentation screen. You were inexplicably drawn to her, the way she held herself, and not to mention her immense beauty.

You were suddenly startled when the face you were staring at turned, green eyes locking with yours. All oxygen left your lungs, not from panic of being caught staring during a professional meeting, but because Wanda Maximoff was piercing. Though her head tilted back to the presentation. Finally you were able to breathe, fingers gripping the notebook edges.

"So what's the point of decreasing the amount of products manufactured if it's in high demand?" Wanda questioned, leaning back in her seat slightly, directing the question towards your father instead of the manager.

He paused, thinking through his answer before replying. "Retailers are going to be bidding higher prices in order to stock it."

Wanda Maximoff's eyebrows quirked, a slight upturn of her lips now revealing to you what your father had described earlier; The Look. It indeed felt like she was in control, as if she was negotiating a deal with a child.

"Why don't we ask someone else's opinion?" Wanda's eyes snapped to you. Horror rushed through you as everyone followed Wanda's directed stare. All eyes were on you.

You felt your face heat up, having absolutely no idea what to say or do other than look towards your father helplessly. He nodded his head, as if urging me to speak so they could move on quickly.

"Uh—" Words were failing you. Wanda's expression shifted from expectancy to amusement. She was enjoying your embarrassment, it seemed. "I think it could work.. people tend to want to buy things that are exclusive." You didn't have anything to base that opinion on, but you hoped it sounded more certain than it did in your head.

Wanda's stare remained on you for a few agonising seconds before nodding once, accepting your answer. "Let's take ten, my team need to discuss this." Everyone nodded quickly in agreement. The Nexus members waited for the others to leave the room, but they didn't. Your father let out a very quiet but infuriated sigh at Wanda's blank though slightly smug expression . He stood, muttering to everyone to leave with him, including you. You'd never exited a room so quickly.

Once you were a few metres down the corridor, you exhaled, leaning against the wall, the conversation between your company distant to your ears. You were busy calming down from the humiliation. You hadn't felt this way since falling into a table with ice buckets in this very building.

Why had Wanda singled you out? Surely she knew how uncomfortable that would be for someone who was clearly new.

You needed water. Luckily you knew of the staff lounge that had a supply of refreshments.

The 'lounge' was thankfully empty, consisting of several pristine couches and counter with a kettle and an array of coffees and teas. You headed towards the water cooler. Grabbing a small paper cup, you flicked on the switch for the water to start filling the cup slowly. It was when it reached the halfway mark that you were startled by a voice.

"It's an interesting opinion that you have."

You spun around, facing Wanda Maximoff. It was hard to breathe again.

"Do you know a lot about consumer behaviour?" She asked, emerald eyes fixed on yours. The question stunned you for a moment, not entirely understanding. But you'd done enough reading to be able to guess what her words meant.

"Not really, I just notice what people around me seem to buy." Good, you're doing good— you told yourself.

"You don't do the buying?" She asked, head slightly tilted to the side.

You let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. "Oh, no. I'm the type to keep something until it's completely incapable of doing its job." For example; your toaster.

Wanda's lips twitched into a smile that almost felt like a smirk. "That's an unfortunate attitude to have when you're working in this industry." You swallowed, throat feeling very dry as you still hadn't had that water yet. Wanda seemed to finally notice the cup in your hand.

"Drink."

The simple word felt like a command, and you found yourself raising your cup without hesitation and taking a gulp of water. It felt like a relief to your dry throat. The woman's smile was now definitely a smirk, though what she was smirking at, you didn't know.

"I haven't seen you around here before. When did you start?" The question was a simple one, but the way Wanda delivered it made it seem a lot more important, like she actually interested.

You were just glad it was an easy one to answer. "Today, actually."

She nodded slowly, "You're Julian's daughter?"

"Yeah, he's wanted me here for a while, and I needed a job." You had to tell yourself to just chill out, because you were starting to overthink your answers, despite there being no need to.

Wanda reached a hand out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, inadvertently directing your attention to her hands. The silver rings shaped her fingers perfectly, the dark red varnish on her nails standing out as they brushed against her hair. You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away.

"Those plants look half dead."

Your eyebrows raised at her very random statement. Since when did plants become a part of the conversation? You went along with it, noticing the few potted plants and vases with flowers that did look very wilted.

"Do you know the name of that one?" Wanda pointed to a specific plant, green leaves and yellow flowers. You knew nothing about plants.

"Tulip?" It was more of a question than an answer. Wanda let out a chuckle at your painfully wrong answer. She shook her head in amusement.

"Dandelion." She stated, suddenly studying you with some type of curiosity and intrigue. "You remind me of a dandelion."

Your expression was quizzical, wondering why a yellow flower could be associated to you in any kind of way. "Why?"

Wanda smiled mysteriously, carefully leaving the question unanswered as she checked her watch. You could tell by the watch strap alone that it was probably worth more than your student debt. "The break is over." And with that, she began walking away, her heels clicking against the floor. You were stunned for a few seconds before snapping out of it. Realising that the cup was still in your hand, you threw it away, walking as quickly as you could back to the meeting room without embarrassing yourself.

Everyone was in the room by the time you'd survived the walk back. You kept your eyes down and sat in your corner (of shame). The conversations started again, and you tried your best, yet again, to make notes. It was a bit easier to concentrate as Wanda hadn't done any talking yet.

It was boring, really, listening to your father and Maximoff Industries' representatives disagree on very simple things like the font for whatever the damn products they wanted to sell.

Finally, Wanda spoke up after listening to the conversation she appeared to have found just as boring as you had. "Let's do it. Less products for higher sales, as ridiculous as it sounds. Though, something would have to be put in place.”

You glanced up from your notebook, pen hovering above the page. Even Wanda’s own coworkers seemed confused.

“I will have regular meetings with a representative from Nexus, just so I can keep up to date with your side of this new decision.”

You could practically see the cogs in your father’s brain whirring, as he probably didn’t know now if this new idea would be a mistake. He cleared his throat. “Okay, I’ll look at my schedu—“

“It will be (Y/N).” Wanda stated clearly. Once again, you found all attention on you. You were just as bewildered as the other surprised faces.

“Me?” You uttered, cheeks flushed at the idea of Wanda Maximoff wanting to meet you again.

A smile twitched on your lips as she studied you from across the room. You felt the presences around you fade away when your eyes locked with green ones. She spoke in a slow but deliberate way, “You will accept, won’t you?”

Without thinking twice, you simply replied, “Yes.”

—

[ciaoteamo]

can i convince you to write gn!reader with francis mosses? but like… the kicker is a weird one… he’s lactating (can either be a usual occurrence or a weird situation for them) and asks the reader to help

Gøt Milk?

pairings: Milkman x reader

summary: anons request of course!

warning: 18+ content

“oh, you’re back again i see” You tilt your head to the man opposite of you.

“miss me?” He asks.

“how have you not been killed yet?” Usually doppelgängers couldn’t hang around for too long as the same thing, otherwise people get suspicious and report them.

“i have my ways… are you gonna let me in easy this time? or do i need to show up your D.D.D. douchebags again” He questions.

“well, you know i can never make anything easy for you… what’s on your shirt?” You ask, seeing wet spits welling up right where you assume his nipples are.

“huh? damn it” He rolls his eyes once he realizes.

“is this some sort of abnormality?” You ask.

“you humans swear you know everything” He mumbles.

“well, is it?” You smirk.

“whatever, yes. just help me get rid of it i’ve been dealing with this shit for weeks now after you” He huffed.

“after me? you were the horny bastard that came in here first asking for ‘help’ ” You raise an eyebrow.

“besides, i don’t do favors for jerks” You shrug him off and take a peek at your clock.

“look, (Y/N)-“ He says, voice disoriented, taking you by surprise. He had a fist on the window that he quickly loosened once he saw you look at it.

“quite the temper you have”

“i’m sorry, just- look im desperate right now and you’re making this difficult for me…” His forehead was on the glass and he looked down in defeat.

“awe, i thought that’s what you liked?” You say, getting close to the glass to catch his eye.

He looked at you with knitted eyebrows and an almost pitiful expression. You roll your eyes and press the unlock button, succumbing to the pity.

“hurry up before i change my mind..” You sigh.

As if you needed something else to worry about today.

He came in quickly, and you lock the door again. You could tell he was biting back a shit eating grin.

He closed the door and stood a little awkwardly this time around. “so… what are you gonna do?”

“well obviously i’ll just squeeze it out… do you carry glasses with your get up? or did you just copy his clothes” You cross your arms.

“well i’m not really going door to door so no, i don’t have glasses” he answers, matter of factly.

You approach him, peering at the wet spots that adorned his button up. His nipples looked larger than last time.

You reach out and unbutton down until his pecs were in full display. You could see the beads of milk forming and dripping down the pink areola.

“oh my..” You gently touch one with your thumb and he tenses. With a little more pressure, his hand flew up to grab yours.

“whatever the feeling is, its too much. it’s overwhelming, yet relieving somehow” He explains.

You catch him off guard and use your other hand you squeeze until you saw the white liquid spray out. He choked and groaned, grabbing your hand once again.

“hm..” You look around the office for something to hold the liquid in. You kept your office very neat so there was only a large fast food cup in the trash can and your half empty hydro flask.

You grab the cup from the can and open your flask.

“we’ll use these. don’t worry about this coming from the trash, it only had ice in it beforehand. but you can drink the rest of the water in here if you think it’ll overflow” You inform him.

“also, sit here. ‘cause i’m still gonna give you a hard time” You wink. “if im gonna help you, you’re gonna help me as well”

He sits in your rolling chair and leaned back in the usual man spread position, chest heaving a bit from what you did earlier.

“you see this clipboard? and these folders? they have all of the information for the neighbors that are coming in today. i don’t know if you’ll need it but you know the rules here.” You start.

“for every doppelgänger you catch, i’ll reward you” You propose.

“and i’ll squeeze these baby’s until their dry while we wait on the next person to walk in”

“that’s a piece of cake for me, i can sense other dopplegangers you know?” He says, finally letting you see his over confident grin again.

“don’t care, like i said, you’re doing something for me in return, and this is it. hope you’re looking forward to it since you’re so comfy about it” Your eyes stare into his. His face goes a little pink and you chuckle.

“…oh lucky you! here they come” You push him out of the line of vision and stand in front of the window. “hi, how are you today?”

“i’m well! how are you” The neighbor replied.

“doppelgänger” You hear from the side. You look at the person in front of you. It certainly looked like a neighbor.

“ID please” The woman slides her ID through and you check to see that her name is typed complete backwards.

You close the security window and call D.D.D.

“wait, so you don’t even need to see them to know?” You whisper to the man in your corner. He shakes his head no and you hum to yourself.

D.D.D. comes to clean and you engage in the shirt conversation they have with you. “alright, we’re heading back now… but, (Y/N)?”

“yes?”

“where’s your chair today?” The suited man asks.

“oh, i’m trying to lose weight so im standing this shift” You answer with a smile.

“oh, well you look great already, so don’t push yourself too hard!” He waved and you wave back.

“that was sweet of him” You chuckle. You feel eyes burning a hole into your head and see ‘Francis’ glaring.

“ yOu lOoK gReat alReaDy” He mocked.

“don’t be jealous, it wouldn’t kill you to compliment me” You poke his forehead.

“yeah? well how abou- mmfuck” His annoyance, now diluted by his heightening sense of ecstasy.

“so much better when you aren’t nagging me” You had the reused cup pressed under peck while you massaged the area around his nipple

You tug at it and watch him writhe with the harsh sound of the milk hitting the button of the cup. With your skilled hands, the cup was reaching the halfway mark and his hands were digging into the back of your thighs.

“please…be a little more gentle” He gulps and his adam’s apple slowly bobs.

“we won’t be getting anywhere like that now would we?” You tease, giving him a quick kiss on the corner of his agape mouth.

He shuddered every once in a while and was sweating up a storm. You were kind of envious of the amount of pleasure these things could receive. He was pitching a mountain top before you, and just as the cup was full half way, uou hear the footsteps of another.

You set the cup aside and stand from and center, leaving the man disheveled and thankful for a break from the near overstimulation.

“hi how are you?” You beam at the neighbor. They slide in their I.D. and you skim over it before hearing ‘Francis’ speak up again with a groggy voice.

“human”

“Enjoy your day” You smile and unlock the door, making sure to lock it back. The neighbor smile’s and nods a thank you once inside.

“another good call, you’re on a roll” You smile back at him, feeling a little excited to torture help his other nipple now.

“i’m glad you came to me for this Franny. I never did get an apology for how you left my office last time, you know?” You tilt your head, leaning over the sitting man with a mischievous grin.

“oh yeah, i’m sorry about that” He sorrily smiled.

“no no no, it’s too late. you won’t be leaving until i fulfill my duty here today “ You pat his cheek.

Doppelgängers don’t have morals, no feelings, not a care in the world. And for the first time, you, (Y/N), have made one feel fear, lust, and regret all at once.

And with a talent like that? How could he ever leave you alone?

-end-

AN: what if i posted tiktoks at the end or start of my asks? idk i feel like it would be cool since tiktok’s gonna be gone in like 8 months 😭

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! sorry it look a bit lol.

[glasvera]

I have zero idea if this how to send requests lmao but how abt an iron man x healer!reader where they have a hard time aiming upwards to heal him (totally not me) and eventually he notices so he decides to make it easy for them and comes down to them personally :3 this happened to me a few games ago and it was adorable 😭😭

(Yes, this works perfectly fine for sending in requests!!)

As an Adam Warlock main, I'm spoiled by my auto-aiming, bouncing heals, so every time I play Invisible Woman I feel this in my bones.

Still

Iron Man x GN!Reader

Description: Things are looking dire, even with your team giving it their all, but thankfully there's one man that can turn the tide of battle... with your help and the help of Sue Storm, of course.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Mostly fluff! There's a bit of a battle and some brief descriptions of injury and pain (getting shot at but not piercing past armor/suits), but nothing too graphic I hope.

A/N: Originally I wasn't going to stray too far from the prompt, but for some reason I was itching to write at least a little bit of a battle scene. Trying to expand my horizons beyond fluff and smut and all that.

Word Count: 1.7k

It was your job. Your job! You had some of the most potent healing capabilities out of anyone you had seen in these battles you fought day after day. Under the right conditions, you alone could change the course of a fight. There was so much power crackling at your fingertips, so much potential to mend and soothe and reverse…

…That is, assuming you can aim those powers. Thankfully, you weren’t the only medic on the field, and they seemed to be taking care of your more mobile allies well enough. Doesn’t mean you don’t try.

You were incredible on the ground; of that, there was no doubt. Buildings could topple, crumble, crash around you, and lasers could be firing from all angles, but you would still persist, still heal, still fulfill your duty. Sweat could pour down your forehead and the salt would sting your eyes, and yet you would never falter once.

Still, nobody is perfect. When someone is that effective on the field, it only makes sense that they would become the focus of enemy fire, and eventually, something is bound to hit. You see Castle’s turret assembling in the distance and prepare for the worst.

“Punisher’s got a turret! Find cove-augh!” Your warning cuts off when several bullets embed themself into the shoulder of your suit, and you hiss at the sharp ache that echoes from the site of your new wounds. The durable material is strong enough to keep them from piercing the skin, but that doesn’t make the pain much better. When you try to roll your arm, to get back in the fight, a searing agony burns at the edge of your clavicle. There’s definitely a clicking sensation that wasn’t there before. 

Heaving a breath, you duck behind a crumbling wall, clutching your arm. Healing energy courses through your fingertips and finds its way to your shoulder, and you tense and shudder, gritting your teeth as the injury reverses itself. It’s never been the most pleasant thing, but it works, and it’s fast, fast enough that it’s only seconds before you’re back in the fight.

Thankfully, it seems your callout didn’t go unheeded. The rest of your team peeks over cover, alternating their fire towards that damn turret, bringing a sigh of relief to your lips. If any stray shots graze them, you’re quick to wave your hand and reverse it in an instant from the safety of your hiding spot. Still, it’s difficult to find a proper opening as the fight heads towards a stalemate.

“We can’t stay like this forever!” you hear your co-healer, Sue Storm, stress from somewhere several feet away. “If they keep us pinned here, it’s only a matter of time before the rest of them collapse on us.”

She’s right. Slowly drilling damage into that turret won’t be effective enough if the rest of your enemies can take advantage and push forward. Your team needs something big, and fast.

Enter Tony Stark. Enter Iron Man.

If you were the pillar holding up your allies, he was the bulldozer tearing through the enemy. He was a force to be reckoned with in that suit. Nearly unstoppable.

“Just keep them off me. I’ve got this.” 

That confident voice fills your heart with hope. The whirring of propulsion jets whizzes past you, whipping your hair into your face as you duck out of the way, but you do your best to follow him with starstruck eyes and a beaming smile.

It wasn't your best-kept secret, your crush on Tony. Adam Warlock nearly outed you once when he described you “having a certain glow” about you whenever you were near the charismatic philanthropist. Poor guy was absolutely blindsided when you nearly jumped on him to get him to shut up.

He zips about, dodging bullet after bullet. Sue keeps him shielded while you focus on healing your allies on the ground, occasionally throwing a few healing rays towards Iron Man that never quite seem to find purchase. Still, they're able to take the pressure off of Tony just long enough--

“MAXIMUM PULSE!”

Even behind the crumbling wall that covers you, the heat and blinding light hit you in an instant. It’s deafening. Sue withdraws her shields to cover your team as the shockwave blasts across the battlefield. Rubble clatters across the translucent barrier over your heads. Once the dust settles, everything falls silent save for the sounds of exasperated breaths and the telltale rumble of propulsion jets, but even that is muffled by the lingering ringing in your ears.

Finally, you venture a peek. The area is absolutely decimated thanks to Stark's weaponry. Punisher's turret is nothing but scraps, you think you see the remnants of a few of Hawkeye's experimental arrows, and a few pieces of one of Rocket’s beacons lie scattered about. The enemy team themselves are nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, the exact opposite is true of your team, and a quick once-over on the ground confirms that everyone is alive and accounted for.

Your smile only widens as relief washes over you.

“He did it!” you exclaim, allowing yourself a pump of your fist into the air. It’s as if a weight has been lifted from your chest, leaving you light as a feather, and you smile so wide that your cheeks start to hurt.

“We did it. I can't take all of the credit here.” Iron Man's voice suddenly behind you nearly has you leaping out of your skin. Damn tinnitus. “Even if I wouldn’t mind the praise of doing it all by myself,” he adds jokingly. 

The rest of your team gather their bearings, groaning a bit as they stand but otherwise hale and whole, and before Sue goes to inspect them for any lingering injuries, she gives you a knowing smirk. “I'll take care of these guys. Why don't you give the star of the show a more… personal touch?”

Your eyes widen and she giggles behind her hand, refusing to elaborate further as she ushers the rest of them away and leaves the two of you alone. You clear your throat awkwardly.

He hovers in his suit in front of you when you turn to face him, heat creeping up your chest and face. The faceplate of his helmet retracts, and you’re greeted with that familiar, handsome mug that regards you warmly.

“Promise I’ll sit still this time,” he quips.

Ah, so your efforts had not gone unnoticed. You’re not sure whether to be touched or embarrassed by that. A nervous hand scratches at the back of your neck.

“Yeah, I…” you pause, tittering shyly as your eyes flicker up to his and then quickly back away. “You’re pretty fast. Hard to keep up with you sometimes.”

That earns you a chuckle, and he slowly lowers down to stand properly on the ground. Now that he’s standing still in front of you, you can see that he didn’t come out of the battle entirely unscathed. It’s nothing serious, thankfully, and there doesn’t seem to be any blood, but you venture a step closer, examining the dents and dings on his armor that could potentially be causing any internal damage underneath.

When he sees the power beginning to glow at your fingertips, he nods at your hands. “Would it be easier if I removed my armor, or--?”

“N-No, this is fine,” you respond quickly, giving him a feeble smile. “I can just reverse the damage, so it’s honestly easier if the site of the injury remains unchanged.”

He huffs out a quick laugh. “Got it. I won’t pretend to understand this magic stuff, and I certainly won’t question your expertise.”

Your smile grows a bit wider at that. “I appreciate it. Fair warning, this might hurt a little.”

Before he gets the chance to properly protest, the energy surges forth, and in that tiny bubble you reverse time as armor shifts back into place and flesh begins to lose its bruising. Tony’s eyes go wide and his lips press into a flat line, desperately trying not to let out anything more than a discontented grunt as he’s forced to relive the pain in reverse for a fleeting second. Such are the drawbacks when it comes to the nature of your powers, but no one can argue the effectiveness of it.

At least it distracts you from the closeness you two share, even if you’re not eager to break it.

“That should be good, but…” Your voice trails off as you admire the shining red metal, examining it for anything you might have missed. There are a few trivial scuffs here and there. Feeling slightly braver, you rest your palm directly against his armor and trace along the scrapes and chips that linger from the suit’s everyday use. “There you go. Good as new.”

You glance up at his face and blink in surprise when you find him watching you intently. Perhaps your eyes fail you, or you’ve been staring at crimson for too long, but you swear his face is ever so slightly flushed. The healing energy fades, and your fingertips rest gingerly against his plated chest.

“Fascinating,” he breathes. “Does that work on wrinkles, too?”

A snort leaves your nostrils. Shaking your head, you reply, “Probably not. At least, I’ve never tried, but my power works in real time. I’d have to be at it for days, weeks, months, even.”

“An excuse to spend more time with you? Perish the thought,” he jests, leaving you to part your lips softly agape in shock. You never realized that he enjoyed his time with you as well. 

“Oh, and…” he adds, tapping a finger to his smirking lips, “You missed a spot.”

With your heart thumping in your chest, you decide to play it safe and take his words literally as your hand tentatively rises to meet his face. He chuckles and presses a soft kiss to your fingers before taking your hand in his, guiding it away from his face and leaning forward to claim his real prize. His lips meet yours tenderly and for only a fleeting moment, but it’s enough to leave you stunned and speechless before him. “There. Now I’m all better.”

[bloodblanks]

numinous — leo kurosagi x reader

Demon is a word that fits Leo well.

note: reader can be player/mc, but it is up to interpretation.

author’s note: this fanfiction will contain darker content, including angst, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

Demon was a word that fit Leo well.

Almost all the people he had come across in his life described him as such, and even though other people’s opinions were of no value to him, he would be inclined to agree with them in this singular instance.

Leo was well aware that callousness, cynicism, and egoism were frowned upon traits in the society he lived in. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that, though they had told him plenty; many more times than he cared to hear. It was almost as if they thought their words mattered to him.

He thought he had made it clear enough—his blatant disregard for people. From talking down to others, using them, or even directly sabotaging them, he had done a plethora of things demonstrating his lack of concern for anyone besides himself.

And so, when people called him a demon, he could only find it amusing. What else did they expect Leo Kurosagi to be? Surely not a saint.

That was why him dating you was nothing out of the ordinary. Or well, to some extent, he supposed it was. After all, you were nothing like any of the other women he’d been with. Where they were all prominent figures in one way or another, you were someone who could go missing without being noticed. Where they were all extravagantly gorgeous, you were plain and minimalistic. You weren’t ugly by any means—he’d never date an ugly girl—and you weren’t homely, either. If anything, you had a rather pleasant face and an appealing figure. However, despite not having any noticeable flaws, you were completely unremarkable.

He wasn’t even sure what it was about you—if it was your physical features alone, your taste in clothing, or the way you carried yourself—but you were simply just plain. Had you not been sent to Darkwick Academy as an exceptional case, he wouldn’t have bothered interacting with you. In fact, if the circumstances had been any different, he wouldn’t have even noticed your existence to begin with.

However, you were the pitiful human struck by a curse, kept hostage by Darkwick until either a cure is found, or your time runs short. That, by itself, was insignificant to Leo; what caught his attention was the academy’s decision to make you an honour student and supervise the ghouls’ investigation cases.

It was a job much too important for someone like you—a weak, useless human girl who was only there by sheer chance. At least, that was what he thought at the beginning. He quickly found out how prominent your ability was, and by extension, how useful it would be to have you cater to him.

It wasn’t exactly necessary to date you. He could’ve just been close friends with you, but where was the fun in that?

Not to mention, love was such an easy weakness to exploit. There wasn’t a single person on this earth who was invulnerable to the emotion—except him, but he was no mere mortal—and he made good use of that fact.

Having witnessed and orchestrated the calamities this feeling brought, Leo knew not to fall for such a trap himself. He didn’t need to; he was well versed at convincing others, and to lie about having feelings was no exception.

Admittedly, it was more difficult than he had imagined with you. You were one of those girls that cared about personality—how boring—and preferred conversation over glittering gifts.

He knew he wasn’t the most pleasant to speak with generally, but his tongue was deft at changing its speech, and it wasn’t long until he had you for himself.

Oh, you were absolutely enamoured with him. You visibly adored him, showering him with affection and devoting your time to him. He had you wrapped around his finger, led around like a dog on a leash. And you were so attached to him, he could treat you however carelessly he wanted without you even considering leaving him.

“Leo?” Your voice cut through the tranquillity of his apartment, jostling him from his thoughts.

“What?” He didn’t bother masking the irritation in his voice; he was in the middle of working on programming Sho’s food ordering application.

“Can we talk?”

“I’m busy,” he replied dismissively, not bothering to glance back at you.

“With what?” you asked, further nagging him.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It’s important.” The tone of your voice indicated a sense of urgency, which made him halt for a second. He considered stopping his work, but the thought ended there. He was not going to pause just because you wanted him to.

“Ugh,” he grumbled. “I’m not in the mood to talk right now. Can’t we do this later?”

A moment of silence, followed by two words.

“I see.” The soft sound of footsteps followed after, indicating that you had left the room.

Leo was mildly confused; you didn’t typically let things go so easily. If anything, you were obnoxiously insistent on certain matters, oftentimes making a fuss when he didn’t display the amount of care you desired. It was rather bothersome, but he supposed it was only natural—he had put in far more effort at the start of your relationship in order to secure you.

The faint sound of shuffling could be heard from the bedroom, but it was soon tuned out by his focus on his work. At some point, he heard the apartment door open and close. He glanced at the time on his phone, seeing that it was quarter to midnight. It was rare for you to go out so late, but he shrugged it off as nothing noteworthy. Perhaps you had an anomalous case to deal with. It wasn’t something he paid attention to.

At half past midnight, Leo decided he was tired of working on the application. Closing his laptop, he pushed himself up from his desk before heading to the washroom to brush his teeth.

Upon reaching for his toothbrush, he noticed that yours was not beside his, as it usually was. He wasn’t sure why; he considered asking you later but decided that what you did with your toiletries didn’t really concern him. He finished his preparations for going to bed and retired to his bedroom for the evening.

His eyes widened at the sight of the empty room before him.

No, it wasn’t just you not being on his bed, where you usually lounged as you waited for him to come to sleep. You weren’t there, but more concerning was that any trace of you having stayed there had disappeared.

Your school bag, usually placed beside the nightstand, was missing. The few coats you had folded over his chair were gone. He hastily flung open his closet door; your clothes weren’t there, either. Everything from your school uniform to your loungewear had seemingly dissipated into thin air.

Disbelief flooded his mind. He was quick to piece together what had occurred, but slow to process it happening.

You? Leaving him? That surely couldn’t be it. You loved him.

While he hadn’t been the best boyfriend as of late, with such an emotion clouding your judgement, you couldn’t ever think of leaving him for it. If anything, you would be more likely coming to him in tears, demanding more attention.

Now that he thought about it, he was certain that was what you were doing—just slightly differently. Instead of directly confronting him about the issue at hand, you were throwing a fit over it in hopes of getting a reaction out of him.

Leo let out a small breath of relief that he didn’t know he was holding. The tension left his body at the realization that you were just seeking attention. You’d come back eventually, after you realize that he’s not buying into your childish behaviour.

But you didn’t.

Two weeks had since passed, and he hadn’t even caught sight of you on campus. While he didn’t go out of his way to search for you—as to not give into your petty demands—it was obvious that you were going out of your way to avoid him on campus.

It was vexing, the way you seemed to actually not want him anymore. He could feel a sense of unease stirring in his stomach at the thought of you being serious about leaving him. He quickly shook himself out of it.

Even if you were to have left him, it wasn’t like it mattered, anyway. Sure, it was convenient to have you around, but it wasn’t like he needed you. He was more than capable of living without you. He wasn’t even sure why he was wasting energy thinking about you coming back; he could just as easily replace you and forget you ever existed.

A month later, with no sign that you were even in Darkwick still, Leo did exactly that.

He didn’t usually care for having a girlfriend outside of entertainment for himself and additional traction for his content, but he came to the conclusion that the unsettling feeling in his viscera resulted from the suddenness of your departure. It was an unexpected change to his daily routine; something he was not generally fond of.

It was an easy fix—finding someone else to fit into his life the same way. After some back and forth texting, he was sitting at a café with another content creator. She was undoubtedly attractive, with long, fluttering eyelashes and perfectly glossed lips. Definitely far more eye-catching than you were.

Leo didn’t remember much of the date. All he could remember was returning to his apartment and sinking into his bathtub, feeling dissatisfied. Surrounded by foaming bubbles and hot waters, he felt the blood in his veins turn to ice as he came to the chilling realization that not even his usual bath felt good for him.

How ludicrous. It must be a coincidence; there’s no way the hollow ache in his chest right now could be attributed to you. It couldn’t be. It was something unimaginable—for him to be feeling this way over you. Over pathetic, boring you.

And yet, it was unmistakable. The acrid taste in his mouth intensified at the thought of you, his heart seeming to beat in tandem with the pulsing anguish that ricocheted within his ribcage.

He didn’t think he paid much attention to you, but memories he wasn’t aware he even recalled began pouring into his mind. From the first time you snuck out of Darkwick’s suffocating campus together, to your wincing expression when you mistakenly ate one of his spicy doughnuts, to the softness of your lips and tenderness in your eyes as you fondly gazed at him—his mind was possessed, replaying events that sent shards of glass stabbing into his heart.

Leo’s eyes stung, his vision growing hazy with unborn tears. The horror of the situation dawned on him then, his complexion growing pale.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t cry. He was Leo fucking Kurosagi.

He was above the rest of mankind, above such inane, nonsensical emotions. He was above such weakness. To be on the verge of tears over a girl—and a mundane one at that—was unthinkable. To be vulnerable in such a manner was truly appalling and revolting. It was utterly sickening. It was—

No, no, this couldn’t be happening.

He was a demon. He was a fucking demon; everyone around him knew that. He was a demon through and through.

A tear slid down Leo’s cheek, leaving a trail of scalding shame in its wake. Another escaped, running along a symmetrical path.

Maybe he was a mere mortal, after all. Or, perhaps, even the numinous can be rendered weak. 

if you enjoy my writing, please consider reblogging; i really appreciate the interactions.

thank you everyone for reading and supporting my work! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

if youre still doing classpect discussion im curious as to what you think a Rogue of Rage would do { i have some ideas already but wanna hear from more people }

class = character arc and starting circumstances, aspect = base personality traits and what's considered heroic/unheroic for this character

Rogues are rebels - they feel injustice deep in their bones, and start the game with a sense of discomfort towards the status quo, an innate understanding of the flaws in the system. Nepeta is the only troll to outright say that blood color shouldn't matter, and Roxy is the most vengeful towards the batterwitch, and characterized by going out of her way to support her community of oppressed carapacians. Rufioh, too, was motivated to defect from society entirely, taking up with the Lost Weeaboos out in the woods.

However, this rebelliousness is unfocused. The Rogue knows that something must be changed, but not specifically what; they know they must rebel, but not specifically how. This is reflected in their abilities: while Rogues do have generic abilities from their aspect, like Nepeta's ability to sniff out motivations and romantic feelings amongst her team, or Roxy's ability to turn invisible and wink out of existence, they have difficulty understanding how to tap into even that much, not to mention the greater abilities of their classpect. Rogues often suffer from failure to start, as Nepeta never really got to learn about Heart, Rufioh never really seemed to figure out Breath, and Roxy's arc featured a very long struggle to make Void usable.

Worse than that, however, is that Rogues often become rebels without a cause - they'll break taboos and stick it to "the man" in ways that become actively detrimental to themselves and the team, purely because their sheer rebellious energy must find some sort of outlet. Rufioh cheated on his girlfriend for an extended period of time, Nepeta refusing to listen to Equius's orders to stay hidden and safe leads directly to her death, and Roxy nearly blows Jane up with a fake copy of SBURB in an attempt to make her not play the game, and stick it to the Condy.

However, if their team is able to provide them with direction and clarity, Rogues become a powerful tool in their arsenal. The passive counterpart to Thieves, they excel at allowing others to utilize their aspect, and the specific way they interact with their aspect is to "steal" it. Where a Thief's theft leaves its target debuffed in that aspect - Vriska stealing luck from an underling makes it fall off a cliff to its presumable death - a Rogue's theft actually leaves its target buffed - Roxy stealing the nonexistence from things allows them to spontaneously come into existence.

This powerset is complicated and subversive, just like the Rogue's natural tendency toward rebellion, and requires a helpful party to guide the Rogue's intentions. If they're able to master their abilities, and gain clarity on how to change the systems they know are injust, they become incomparably flexible - possessing an infinite toolbox at their disposal, capable of cracking any lock, solving any puzzle, fixing any problem.

Rage, meanwhile, is perhaps the most enigmatic ability, with secrets and riddles literally being a part of its domain. Void is something of a red herring, in that regard; though the comic often calls it difficult to understand, we see it in use quite often, and can pretty easily derive the shared traits among its players. Void's domain, then, is actually simplicity, pleasure, vice, and sexuality - it deals with many taboos and unspoken things, like substance use and abuse, fetishes, so on and so on - but not really with secrets.

No, secrets are the domain of Rage, as they're practically Kurloz's whole schtick. Moreover, Rage is the opposite of Hope, something a little more well-explored, and between the heroes of all three, and Hussie's words from the book commentary, an understanding of Rage can emerge from the ether.

Something interesting to note about aspect is that the character being at a low point in their character arc practically always concides with them exhibiting inverted aspect character traits. Rose at her lowest is a dumb, sloppy drunk - with intellect being associated with Light, and vice being associated with Void. It isn't that their aspect flips, but that the aspects are set up to be yin and yang, equals and opposites along the same axis, and the dereliction of one comes to resemble the other at its worst. Thus, you can derive some understanding of Rage by knowing that its opposite is Hope, and also, by knowing that Hope players at their worst will often resemble Rage players and its worst traits.

Hope players are, as a rule, shameless. Eridan literally seems incapable of noticing how stupid and embarrassing he comes across as, and phrases his requests as demands, including, at times, to date him. Eridan's our most Hope-y Hope player, being a Prince, and therefore running at an overabundance of his aspect. Cronus is more lowkey, but he's shameless too, hitting on Mituna and Meenah without an iota of self-respect. Jake is a Page, and therefore running at a deficit of some of his aspect's better traits (he's wishy-washy, compared to Hope's usual focus on conviction and faith), but one of its worse traits that he has in excess is shamelessness - shamelessly ghosting Dirk, asking Erisolsprite for advice, whining at Jane over and over, on her damn birthday.

This naked and shameless sincerity - often to the point of embarrassment, and paired with unwavering faith and conviction - suits Hope very well, as Hope is described by Hussie in the book commentary as "a force that defines reality, used to snatch personal meaning from the jaws of a cynical reality". Hope, he explains, literally makes fake things real; Eridan's "white science" is literally just magic given a name he's more comfortable with, and his belief in it turns it into something very real, and very deadly, and Jake makes Brain Ghost Dirk real, which baffles Aranea - a Light player. According to Hussie, it's also "framed as the most fundamentally powerful aspect", and it's consistently seen in the comic as being able to completely no-sell any greater forces of reality - Eridan overcoming Sollux's eye beams, which even the Ahab's Crosshairs, described as the strongest weapon his specibus will allow, couldn't do, or Jake's turbohealed Hope field completely no-selling Jade's Green Sun powers and later, really fucking up a god tiered Caliborn.

Thus, it stands to reason that Rage players are secretive and self-conscious, and this holds true for both of them. Kurloz is noted multiple times to have a deep fondness for riddles and secrets, and Gamzee, too, has a penchant for being sneaky. Gamzee has always been more lucid than he lets on, his internal narration during his introduction showcasing an awareness that his friends don't really like him much, and he lies twice about being "scared" of someone in order to suit his own purposes - one time to keep Eridan from providing Karkat with emotional support after Sollux dies, because it's implied that Gamzee has a palecrush on Karkat, and one time to keep Vriska out of his horn pile, because he doesn't like her.

Shame, in fact, seems to be a defining attribute of Rage - the main thing we get to hear about Kurloz before his Prince meltdown - so, presumably, while he's at an overabundance of Rage - is being so ashamed of deafening Meulin that he takes the drastic action of sewing his own mouth shut and taking a vow of silence. Moreover, Gamzee's crisis of faith is ultimately shadowed by the emotion of shame, as Hussie explains in the book commentary that the reason he reacted so poorly to the ICP Miracles video was that it confronted him with the realization that his entire existence and religion were basically one big joke, an embarrassing parody, and he couldn't deal with the shame. Ultimately, his way of taking revenge is also via totems of fear and shame, with the jester plush in John's dreams causing him to scribble self-loathing, self-shaming comments across his walls. Thus we can derive that Rage encompasses not just shame, but that which is shameful - fear, loathing, embarrassment, and, of course, rage itself. If Void is the domain of that which can't be seen, of taboos and nonexistence, then Rage is the aspect governing that which we don't want others to know about - our fears, our insecurities, our anxieties, our embarrassment.

Both Kurloz and Gamzee later come to be defined by their religious faith and conviction, with Karkat claiming their breakup was due to how unbelievably pious Gamzee became, and Kurloz's faith being paired with shamelessly mind-controlling his girlfriend (and it's implied he's doing the same to Mituna). As characters at their lowest come to resemble the opposite aspect, we can assume that this is a reflection of how they've Raged so hard that they've wrapped around.

In fact, Hussie describes Gamzee's ability to always show up at the right (wrong) time to do the right (wrong) thing in the plot and enforce the worst outcome, "bespoiling" every part of the narrative he touches, as a dark mastery over Rage, the same way that Eridan's fall into hopelessness and his white science is a dark mastery of Hope. He describes Gamzee after his crisis of faith as "taking revenge against the narrative itself". Therefore, we can assume that Rage is an aspect that similarly works directly on the narrative, a force that shapes reality.

Therefore, let me posit that Hope is a transformative ability - it pens in something new, it makes fake things real, it imposes an impossible new status quo over the old. Rage, then, is an interpretive ability - it acts on existing reality, picking out what to emphasize and what to deemphasize, what to bring to the forefront, and what options to close out forever.

These kinds of far-reaching abilities imposed directly on reality itself are not unheard of. The ultimate expression of John's Breath abilities - Breath being the aspect governing freedom and indepenence - is his retcon powers, allowing him to unstick from the control of the alpha timeline, and grant that boon to others. Mages, as a class, act directly on causality itself, predetermining which futures will definitely come to pass.

Rage is a force that defines reality by defining which parts of it we keep, by deciding which parts are "true," by deciding what the past means to us. Both Cronus and Gamzee are bards, meaning they have arcs of religious belief and crises of faiths (with Cronus's Harry Potter prophecy being framed as a religious belief while Meenah and Aranea discuss it). Cronus's faith is some bogus story about an evil wizard he's destined to defeat. Knowing what we do about Hope, it stands to reason that his arc, had he properly completed it, would've ultimately been about using Hope to make the bogus prophecy true.

Gamzee's religious belief, meanwhile, is incredibly open to interpretation - and this is by design. Hussie outright says that who the mirthful messiahs are, and what Gamzee's beliefs correspond to, change over the course of the story, to reflect whatever's convenient for both him and Gamzee. Its initial description in Gamzee's introduction makes it sound like a factual description of SBURB: a band of rowdy minstrels (the players) will usher in an apocalyptic vast honk (the reckoning meteor shower), but will then give rise to a paradise planet that doesn't yet exist (the Ultimate Reward). When Gamzee raps about it to Tavros, which is the first chronological time he ever talks about it, there's an aspect to it that's quite hopeful, specifically that he believes it will equalize the blood castes, as he says "I peeped six trillion hemos, bleeding as equals".

However, after his turn, he describes the mirthful messiahs as "me" and "me," and fully embraces his heritage as a casteist highblood, spewing slurs and casteism as he commands Equius to kneel and calls Karkat a "punchline blooded motherfucker". Later on, it seems the mirthful messiahs become Caliborn and Calliope.

This is, I believe, a reflection of how Rage is interpretive. If Hope can be described as the power of fanfiction - of imposing something fake and new onto reality - then Rage is the power of literary criticism - choosing which version of existing reality you want to be real, and closing out other options.

Thus, to pull it all together, Rage governs shame and shameful things: anger, embarrassment, loathing, hatred, and fear. Its players tend to be secretive and self-conscious, prone to feeling ashamed and embarrassed of themselves, hiding who they really are. They possess an innate, instinctive understanding of how to bend reality to their whims, and their powers work by closing off possibilities, bringing forth a single "true" version of existence. This sounds volatile and dangerous, and it is - Rage players are prone to hopelessness, cynicism, and an overpowering belief that everything must burn. We see this in both Gamzee and Kurloz, who begin to campaign for oblivion, destruction, and death. This utter despair can come with it a faith-like zen, a Hope-esque religious conviction - Rage at its nadir.

It stands to reason, then, that our Hope players at their worst are similarly displaying Rage-esque traits. Jake, I think, makes his the most obvious - after having his self-esteem shattered by Dirk's Prince tirade, Jake takes a very firm stance of "I don't want to do that". He becomes so ashamed of himself and his actions that he can't even bring himself to talk to Jane or Dirk, and his following conversations with Jane and Aranea basically consist of him saying he doesn't WANT to do any of the things they're trying to make him do. Rage and shame, closing possibilities.

Eridan, meanwhile, becomes an angry, vengeful, destructive force of hopelessness, killing Feferi and destroying the matriorb - Rage, hatred, and closing possibilities. Cronus becomes self-conscious, seeking some personal to fill the void left behind by the "massive disappointing fraud" that magic turned out to be - Rage, shame, self-consciousness.

But we must also remember that these emotions are vital sources of energy, wellsprings of power from which revolutions are born. When Princes have their meltdowns, they take their aspect down with them, rendering it inaccessible for the rest of the team; Kurloz nuking rage from his team is likely why they've stagnated, become fixed in place, unable to access hatred (notice how they have no blackroms?), or even be shamed out of bad behavior.

Thus, Rage at its best is revolution. If Rage can pick out a shitty version of reality to endorse, it can pick out a beautiful and kind one. If it can decide that misery, pain, and suffering are deserved and all we're allowed to have, it can also decide that they're injust, and we must fight for a world where they no longer exist. If Rage can perpetuate harm, then it can also safeguard kindness.

And so, a Rogue of Rage takes shape. Between the Rogue's rebelliousness and Rage's dynamic upturning of reality, this is going to be an incredibly volatile individual. This character is likely going to be A Problem for their team. Rogues start out unfocused, and Rage players inflict massive, far-reaching consequences when they act; a Rogue of Rage is going to lash out at the oppressive forces they see - whether those forces deserve it or not - and give them all a Very Bad Time.

However, the balance for this is the Rage player's natural tendency for self-consciousness. While this does get overridden to some extent by the Rogue's rebellious energy, they'll likely be very aware that they don't have all the answers, and don't know what to do, who to fight, how to go about their revolution. What happens from here will depend greatly on if the team is able to offer proper advice.

A Rogue of Rage who receives no guidance will never unlock the greater abilities of their Rogue powerset, and eventually, their natural penchant for rebellion will leave a trail of destruction and closed possibilities in their wake. Again, this character has a high chance of being A Problem for their team.

However, if the Rogue of Rage IS able to get their shit together, then they're going to be one of the greatest classpect combinations at putting a finger on the scales of causality. Possessing Rage abilities by default, they'll be able to steal Rage from others in a manner that buffs them - for example, removing fear, shame, or hesitation from a teammate that needs a forward push, or removing a narrative blockage of some sort. The soft magic system of Homestuck, and especially the way Hope/Rage work directly on the narrative, makes specific expressions of these abilities difficult to describe, but that should give you an idea of what a Rogue of Rage can do.

[doumadono]

ANNOUNCEMENT

This is a turning point for me. I've been silent for too long, but I can't stay quiet anymore.

I'm going through writer's burnout, and it has hit me hard. I've been writing on Tumblr and Ao3 for nearly eight years now (with about 1.5 years on my private blog, doumadono). Over that time, I've written more than 400 stories across various fandoms, created the Sinful Sunday event and a series that many people like, helped many with numerous emergency requests — so many that one masterlist wasn't enough to cover them all.

But all of this has brought me to a place where writing no longer feels like a joy, but rather a duty. In my effort to make everyone happy, I lost myself and took on too much, accepting even the most twisted and difficult requests. It made me anxious and unwell whenever I thought about writing. This is why I haven't been posting much these past few weeks. I missed the breaking point and let myself reach a place where I was seriously considering quitting writing altogether and closing both my Tumblr and Ao3 accounts.

There's something else I need to address. I feel completely detached from Jujutsu Kaisen and Demon Slayer. I no longer feel comfortable writing for those fandoms. From now on, I'll be focusing mostly on My Hero Academia. Even though the manga recently ended, both the manga and the anime hold a special place in my heart. I’ve fallen in love with the story and its amazing characters. This is what feels right to me at this moment. That doesn't mean I'll never write for Demon Slayer or other fandoms again, but not now, not at this time. Maybe in the future — who knows?

Some of you might know that I've been dealing with a flood of hateful anonymous messages. Even though I’ve grown stronger and no longer consider them relevant, it still hurts to read such nasty words. This is another factor why I need to take a break.

So, what's going to change?

Sinful Sunday will no longer cover requests, and the event won't be as regular as it used to be. From now on, I'll post some sinful pieces specifically written for this event whenever I feel it's right. I'll write only for the characters I feel attached too.

Emergency requests will be limited to two slots and will no longer have a 48-hour window to be fulfilled. Once both slots are taken, emergency requests will be closed until I manage to clear the current asks in my inbox.

As of today, my ask box has been completely cleared. I won't be replying to any past asks, regardless of their origin or topic.

Commissions will remain open, as nearly all the requests have been fulfilled.

Regarding the following projects:

The Kvitravn series will be completed this year, but I can't provide a specific date just yet as I'm still working hard to bring everything together.

There's also a new series on the horizon featuring Dabi in the lead role, with a psychiatrist!Reader as the other main character.

As for Kinktober, I made a hard decision it will not be held as an event on my blog this year at all.

As of now, I want to focus on my own little My Hero Academia based AU that I created with my best friend @crystalwolfblog , and this is something that brings me a lot of comfort nowadays, and it's what I want to focus on. I’ll likely create another blog to post everything related to this AU, to keep things organized (the blog will be linked to my pinned post). This little AU was and is my safe haven for the past year and half, and since it contains all of my favourite characters, I want to focus on it fully.

The time for purification has come. I need to rediscover my purpose and find joy in writing again. To those who understand and have stuck with me since the ThePaperPanda days — you’re amazing and adorable, and I can never express how much I appreciate you, guys 💞

I want to share one last thought. This isn’t a statement, but rather a plea to readers: please respect writers, no matter the content they choose to explore. Writing is not as easy as it may seem; it requires a significant amount of time and effort, often taking up our personal time to craft a story. Don't send anon hate. Spread love instead! The least you can do to show your appreciation is to leave a comment, even if it’s just a word or two. For you, it’s a small gesture that takes less than a minute, but for the writer on the other side, it may be a much-needed sign that their work is meaningful. So if you enjoy an author’s work, don’t hesitate to leave a comment. It truly makes us writers feel like we’re on cloud nine.

Love you all, Marcianna

[coffeegnomee]

Saw a post about trying to understand "new player behavior" from a new viewer standpoint and I thought, let me try and take a stab at explaining it. Anyone who's been around for a while and wants to weigh in, please do.

New player mentality is mostly like running from fights instead of taking them especially if you're good enough or have enough hearts, being absolutely unwilling to die, being unwilling to see if you can survive something you know is a trap, refusing to show up to something because you thought it was suspicious, being paranoid when there is nothing to be paranoid about. Trying to defuse conflict instead of embracing it, not understanding the cycles (even though everyone had their own interpretation of the cycles).

These reflect the unspoken gentlemen's code of honor that exist on the server, though it is notable to note that the main players that care about this are just Mapicc Zam and Clown. Not everyone cares about this, though the older the member, generally the more it is understood and accepted.

But with Mapicc and Zam being consistently two of the only handful of active members at any given time, their opinion will ring loud and with Zam being The most active streamer and the one with The most play time every season, as Zam goes so does the audience go. Creating, admittedly, a feedback loop where we all complain about those dang youngins.

However the mentality is real, and some members, most notably Minute, have genuinely changed from how he was at the start of s5 to who he is now. s5 minute would have NEVER taken a 1v1 he knew he would have lost for the sake of the server.

This risky mentality, story-motivated, picking a side and caring deeply about it, showing up to something you know you have a 30% chance of survival, dying and then retaliating against whoever killed you in that thing you just showed up to (this is the easiest explanation of the cycles), picking a nerf and seeing how it will affect the story, loosing all your hearts willingly, saying yes when someone approaches you for a project and putting your all into supporting this new allyship (despite old teammates or despite old feuds), being loyal to the new teammates because progress forward is better than clinging to the past (betrayal in s1-4 is interesting and can be talked about below), coming up with a plot that will involve the whole server at a risk to yourself, achieving the impossible.

These are all hallmarks of the old members.

Now, there is a layer of nuance here because while all new members fall prey to new member mentality, there have always, always been old members who fall prey to it, no matter how long they've been on lifesteal. The easiest example you'd find looking back at s4 is Pangi and Red running from every single fight even though they had 20 hearts. Red being from s1 and rejoining in s3 and Pangi joining in s2! Hardly new members at the time of infraction.

But that's because, at its core, new member mentality is the fear of death. It's the fear of failure. It's clinging to your hearts for fear of what will happen to you if you loose them.

And what each member needs is time, and experience in difficult situations that challenge their perspective on the server. We call that their Lifesteal Trauma. It's never fun for them and it genuinely challenges everything that they thought they understood about lifesteal. And depending on how it happens it either strengthens their bond to the server and shows them they can withstand anything and everything even abject failure and total betrayal and still be okay, or they take a step back from being as active. It's always different for every player and depends on how they even want to play. I could go through the list of members, but it's primarily and internal belief that they don't articulate and every way of playing the server is okay. And mostly they just need time and a new idea to try.

A final note about betrayals. Lifesteal has always, always been filled with people getting on a team and betraying that team to get the win. So many times a member has been invited to a team and they join and then betray that team. So what do I mean about loyalty to a new team over old teams?

This is something that is growing and changing as the server progresses and isn't as clean cut, also maybe wrong because my memory of everything before s4 is the most shoddy, but in general, those who betrayed a new team had been inactive for a period, were approached by a different new team, and then infiltrated the other new team that was forming,

s1 that was terry being on mapicc's side and then conveniently being in the right place to join the other side and betray them.

I remember nothing from s2 other than MOB and the withers.

s3 that was parrot being added to the resistance group chat while being in a call with decimation and betraying the resistance.

s3 that was leo joining the revive side but being on spoke's side and killing zam and pangi right after the successful getaway.

The betrayals of s4 sparked a new brutality (maybe just because i actually watched the streams and the streams of all those older times are lost) where Spoke did the long con on Parrot before betraying, being loyal to the original wormholers over Parrot.

That was mapicc adding zam to his side of the crown battle against pangi and then betraying him after the fight.

Then there's all the zam betrayals which were ideological differences about the purpose and goals of the teams rather than thought out betrayals that he orchestrated with others. (and in a way his choice of leaving team awesome was an experiment in a what-if that was very enticing)

But the time honored old player mentality towards betrayals is "first come first serve" combined with "old attachments don't matter in the face of new content".

This is why ro betraying the foundation in s5 was a pure act of old player mindset. mapicc is asking? bet.

whereas jumper's betrayal was much closer to spoke's betrayal of parrot: clinging to an original (and secret/non official) team over the new teammates and only after months and months, betraying them.

It's a secret third thing that doesn't fit anywhere into how lifesteal functions and is more a facet of the player themself; are they willing to do that plot.

And yet, because i heaven't yapped enough yet, Jumper's betrayal to me reads far closer to new player mentality because she saved her own skin and her own hearts and never risked anything through her betrayal. she has said multiple times that she likes being on both sides because she never has to worry about dying. If she had gotten caught earlier the worst that would have happened is she lost a single heart because they never knew where her bed was and she could have called minute in as backup in an instant and be protected by the most powerful member under his batman wings. and after she was protected by him at all times.

Whereas Spoke's betrayal of Parrot was The Riskiest thing he could have done. He could have been banned from the server and never completed the impossible task he was trying to do. There was real risk to his own ability to play the game in pulling it off successfully.

[nikibogwater]

Y'know what? Screw it. I'm coming back to bat for Cinderella (2015) again because I just finished re-watching it for Valentine's Day and I have a bunch more stuff to say about it. Mostly about how well it fleshes out the main characters.

I've heard people complain that the first 20 minutes are boring because it's "just telling her backstory as slowly as possible to fill up run time" (paraphrase). And it's true that the movie does take its sweet time establishing Ella's family, their living situation, their values, and their relationships with each other. That's because these things are actually really important to understanding Ella's motivations and struggles later in the movie. We can't get by on an impersonal, two-minute summary of Ella's backstory, not without sacrificing a ton of the character depth that makes this particular adaptation of Cinderella so good.

Showing the audience Ella's past serves a few purposes. First, it explains where her core values came from and shows her actively living them out. Ella isn't just a kind and courageous person out of some inherent goodness within her. She was brought up in an environment where those two virtues were the center of her family's life, and ultimately the source of their happiness.

When Ella's father broaches the subject of him possibly remarrying, you can see that Ella isn't thrilled by the idea. But she encourages him to go through with the marriage, which establishes her selfless and loving nature in a concrete way.

Side note: MAJOR kudos to actress Lily James for this moment. She was able to communicate Ella's discomfort to the audience, while still keeping it subtle enough that you can believe her father wouldn't pick up on it.

The second purpose of showing her backstory in detail is that it strengthens the emotional gut punch that is seeing all of this goodness ripped out of Ella's life. And the third, and arguably the most crucial reason, is that it makes what Lady Tremaine does to her so much more despicable.

Lady Tremaine doesn't simply treat Ella badly. She also manipulates Ella into forgetting her own self-worth, into fearing that perhaps she actually deserves the abuse she is suffering--which is a very real and all-too-common occurrence in abusive relationships. The movie makes a point of directly telling you that Ella is beginning to struggle with this via the Fairy Godmother's narration: "Cinderella. Names have power, like magic spells. And of a sudden, it seemed to her that her stepmother and stepsisters had indeed transformed her into merely a creature of ash and toil."

I've seen this movie at least a dozen times now, and my heart still absolutely shatters every time I watch Ella staring at her dirty and distorted reflection, and realizing she has begun to feel ashamed of herself. This moment just wouldn't hit as hard without the setup of the first twenty minutes.

For the rest of the movie, we see Ella fighting to keep her faith in both herself, and in the values her parents taught her. But it's an active battle now that she's surrounded by people who relentlessly tear her down no matter what she does. And in some ways, she fails. She's afraid to tell Kit who she really is. She's afraid no one at the palace will believe her if she comes forward as the "mystery princess." Ella doesn't get out of this situation unscathed. Lady Tremaine's abuse actually damages her. Not enough to change who she is as person, but enough to make escaping her stepmother much more difficult than simply getting out of the house.

That's why the ending is so much more of a triumph for her. She tells Kit the truth, even though part of her is still scared that Lady Tremaine was right, and he could never love who she truly is. And LAWD, the way Kit tearfully says "Of course I will," when she asks if he will take her as she is, just makes me MELT. 😭

Also I don't think it's ever directly stated in the movie, but this version of the Prince is canonically a soldier who fought in a war prior to the events of the film (they confirm this in the behind the scenes). So he and Ella are both people who have seen the darkness of this world up close and personal, and both of them still chose courage and kindness. I don't think I can understate the depth of my adoration for these two, they are one of the truest OTPs to ever exist.

On a final and only semi-related note, I feel like reviews of this movie never give the Captain of the Guard the credit he deserves. This guy is hands-down the best side character. He has Kit's back every step of the way, even when he's being a little quippy. If Disney cannot be dissuaded from this dreary path of remakes and sequels, can they at least give us a sequel to Cinderella (2015) that is all about this guy?? Like, he's just having a good time babysitting his new niece/nephew, unaware that meanwhile the kid's parents (Ella and Kit, obviously) are trying to set the Captain up with a reformed Anastasia and there's a bunch of fairy tale shenanigans and maybe some references to the cult classic that is Cinderella III: A Twist in Time??? Please, Disney, can we at least have some FUN again?????

[mi55delulu]

[5:38 p.m.]

pairing: team lead!jungkook x hr lead!fem reader

wc: 1.7k

genre: coworkers au, FLUFF!!

cw: corporate lingo (shivers), sfw, jk being a cutie patootie, oc lowkey oblivious but we love her.

a/n: yeaaaah i kinda went over the typical 1k word count with this timestamp drabble. but hey, this is my february contribution. isn’t the banner super cute???? anyways, enjoy!

You had a strict routine.

Wake up at 7:20 a.m., out the door by 7:45 a.m., shuttle to work by 8:15 a.m., and the rest was history till it’s time to clock out at 5:00 p.m. Rinse and repeat until the weekends hit.

Being the lead for your little team of five had its perks. You never had to do any of the grunt work minus project managing and individual check-ins with your team members. Things were easy because you worked with some of the most competent employees.

Human Resources was one of the fields people strayed away from due to their bad rep on upholding the company’s interests and values first. It’s true. You love your work though. You love that there’s a solid beginning and end to your job. Someone was always hiring and someone was always applying. Someone always had a personnel issue and someone was there to fix it.

There was always a resolution.

Let’s be real — not everything was a happy resolution. You worked by the books and as a result, you’ve had to make some difficult calls. As the team lead, you’ve taken upon yourself to be the bearer of bad news. Just like how you’re on a Teams call right now with Jeon Jungkook, lead of the Data Analysis & Corrections team. It’s a group meeting between you, him, his manager, and your team member to break the news that a promotion in place for one of his team members was not approved.

“Again, I do apologize, but even with the justification memo, the budget cuts for this quarter won’t allow for another promotion in place. The team member hasn’t reached their second probation either—“

“Yes, but we’re trying to retain talent in our unit. I have another two that already accepted firm offers for another company. I’m down to my last two team members, and if I don’t offer some sort of incentive to stay, work is going to pile up and we’re not going to meet our service level agreements.” Jungkook adjusts his headset. This wasn’t your first rodeo with Jungkook. He’s always been an advocate when it came to his team, which was why his team members always excelled and promoted after a year in their position. You admired him for his persistency … until it gets escalated to a meeting like this.

“Have you considered reaching out to other teams for assistance? Perhaps we can redirect a couple folks over for temporary assistance.” You offer.

His manager takes over the meeting to give his take on the decision. You zone out. Mute button on to hide the sigh you let out. Unlike Jungkook, his manager had a way of steamrolling and derailing a meeting. One skill you’ve learned in your role is to let the other person talk. If you don’t contribute, they will eventually run out of things to say.

Jeon, Jungkook [4:48 p.m.]: what are you doing on 2/14?

You [4:48 p.m.]: Work. It’s a Friday.

Jeon, Jungkook [4:50 p.m.]: oh ok

You react to the Teams message with a thumbs up and refocus on the call where Jungkook’s manager continues his rambling.

Jeon, Jungkook [4:55 p.m.]: your hair is pretty btw. is that a new necklace?

You [4:55 p.m.]: Flattery won’t change the outcomes of this meeting, Jungkook.

Jeon, Jungkook [4:56 p.m.]: aw, can’t say i didn’t try …

You stifle a smile. Eyes avoid the part of the screen where Jungkook smiles back dumbly. Certainly it was no smiling matter now that the call has gone over the allotted time and it’s past your typical clock out time when you interrupt his manager. It was for your team member’s sake since they were paid by the hour. Being a team lead, you were technically always on the clock. But again, you had a strict routine — out by 5:00 p.m. and this was well past your work schedule.

“We can table this for another time. I’ll put something on the calendar later this week.”

“If it’s not to approve the promotion, then I don’t see the need in the meeting.” His manager sighs.

“I’ll meet on our behalf, if it’s alright with you,” Jungkook says to his manager, “I’d like to discuss some alternatives.”

His manager waves him off and thanks everyone for their time before signing off the meeting. Jungkook apologizes to you with a tight-lipped smile.

—

He gives you the same one later on that evening when it’s just you and him waiting for the parking shuttle. Tie loose and hair no longer gelled up like it usually is in the morning, Jungkook stands next to you in silence.

“Sorry for going over the meeting time.”

“Not your fault,” you don’t look up from your phone, too busy typing out your grocery list, “just don’t include your manager in the call next time.”

You know it’s not his call to make. As great as a leader Jungkook is to his team, he’s only as great as he could be under a micromanager. Doesn’t have the heart to leave his team, but also doesn’t deserve that sort of treatment from his manager. You’ve hinted this to him plenty of times in the past. Sure, you recognize that any decision or advice given in your role needs to be in the best interest of the company. But Jungkook was an integral part of the company and taking care of an employee’s wellbeing was a part of your job too.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he apologizes again, “you know how he is.”

You nod and step forward when the shuttle pulls in.

With plenty of open seats to choose from, Jungkook chooses to sit next to you. Always does, ever since you both started in this company years ago fresh out of college. He greets you every morning and texts you if he calls out sick … as if you’d notice if he wasn’t there.

Newsflash, you do. Always do.

“You really aren’t doing anything on Valentine’s Day?” His forearm takes up more space on the armrest than necessary, but you don’t mind.

“I told you, work.”

“Boring.”

“You have something planned?” You raise one of your brows at him. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Jungkook dates and it wouldn’t be a surprise if he had someone to celebrate Valentine’s Day with.

“Not anymore.” He pouts, “work schedule conflict.”

“Bummers.” You go back to looking at your phone, awkwardly relieved at the revelation.

It’s a quiet ride, but it’s nice because you know that you’ll be home soon. That is, until Jungkook nudges your arm lightly with his elbow.

“I got a job offer from another company.”

People promote. People retire. People come and go. It’s normal in your field, so why do you feel like you’re being deserted? You’ve been hinting that he deserved a promotion. Know he deserves more, but wasn’t expecting this.

“Congrats,” you try to say evenly.

“Turned it down though.”

Another breath of relief leaves you this evening.

“Why?”

“Cause you’d be bored on these shuttle rides without me.” He smiles.

You roll your eyes, but mirror his smile nonetheless.

“Old man Han told us yesterday he’s going to retire by the end of this year. Think I can stick around till then and apply for his position,” Jungkook stretches his legs.

“Ah.” You’ve already known about this months ago given that Jungkook’s manager notified your area to ensure a smooth transition before his exit. Wanted your team to get started on recruiting a couple months before his last day so that he can pick out and train his next protege.

“Ugh, you knew about it, didn’t you?”

“Sorry, had to keep that on the low. HR things.”

“I thought we were friends.” He muses.

“Will you give me a peek at the interview questions?” He knows you won’t, but asks anyways just to see if you’ll scowl at him. Of course you do.

“You’ll do fine. Han likes retaining talent too.” And you’d like to keep working with Jungkook.

The shuttle drops you both off at the off-site parking. It’s just two cars in the lot parked right next to each other: his pulled in from the rear and yours from the front. It makes getting into your car difficult because one person would always have to wait for the other person to go first. Jungkook always lets you go first.

You open your door, pause, contemplate on what you say next. A simple goodnight or drive safe would do … but you know he’s had a rough week. He was very vocal about it in his Teams messages with you. You turn to him and he has this anticipating look on his face.

“The justification memo was good, but we need numbers. You’re good with data — ask me for some tomorrow.” You say. You assumed he would be happy with your tip, instead he looks a bit dejected as he bids you goodnight.

—

The workweek continues and Jungkook was able to get his team member’s promotion in place approved thanks to your help on the side.

Friday rolls by and you greet your team members one by one before heading to your desk.

“Oh, there’s something at your desk.” Jihyo pushes herself out from her cubicle. “Delivery person told us it’s for you. No sender name though … I think you’ve gotten yourself a secret admirer.” She smiles coyly.

That’s when you see the bouquet of pink peonies with a little note.

Flattery won’t change the outcomes, but you always seem to find a way. I appreciate you.

p.s. How many times do I need to ask you about Valentine’s Day before you get the hint?

p.p.s. Didn’t realize how expensive peonies are off season. You’re lucky I like you.

You log into your computer with a smile, fingers flying across your keyboard the moment the Teams application loads on the screen.

You [8:20 a.m.]: Didn’t think peonies would break the bank.

Jeon, Jungkook [8:20 a.m.]: you know … people usually say thank you after receiving an extravagant gift

You [8:20 a.m.]: Thank you.

Jeon, Jungkook [8:21 a.m.]: much better 😌

Jeon, Jungkook [8:21 a.m.]: sooo ……..

You [8:21 a.m.]: What are you doing tonight?

Jeon Jungkook is typing …

—

part two

a/n: hehe. if anyone talked to me at work like this im reporting them to hr. but its jk, so we’ll let him slide right? hope yall enjoyed! lmk ur thoughts 💟

[osakanone]

Are you a fan of hard science fiction?

tl;dr:

This is a very complicated question, and it depends on what the author considers technology, science or culture.

long version:

Super, super depends honestly and the deciding factor is usually the author's own self-awareness.

A lot of hard SF spends months perfecting its technical research and then for whatever reason has writing that has done zero research in humanities or social studies and is just someone repeating the bits of world history they like not realizing the irony.

I like hard SF when it uses the machine to tell a story, otherwise its not playing to its strengths. Clarke got this. Morgan less so.

This also depends on how you define it: Do you mean hard SF as in its all technically plausable or Hard SF, where how the technology matters to the story?

These mean very different things!

Likewise, there's also then the question of most hard SF not understanding science well enough to understand what post-science [...]

eg, the idea that science is more than just the sum of research, and that how we do peer-review analysis needs to be seriously changed because of the replication crisis, and how we store and educate science needs to change due to the knowledge and expertise collapse crisis, or the fundamental change of how knowledge and information and abstraction functions with respect to reality itself, etc, etc, none of which hard SF acknowledges at all whatsoever which is the least realistic thing about it

[...]

is or where engineering is going next so they're just repackaging speculative fiction's methodology from 40 years ago without actually doing the leg-work beyond "what the next doohicky is", instead of seriously asking how science itself is going to change.

Its tempting to think that technology is the active human interface with the material world, but I would argue for all intents and purposes there is no material world beyond what humans experience either directly or indirectly and the reason we would want to preserve that non-experience without exploiting it is because some day we'd like to experience it to gain revelations both scientific and cultural.

The idea that science is automatically synonymous with technology is a frankly rediculous one because it refuses to recognize that one does not automatically become the other just as tomes of knowledge do not become useful effectve contexturalized understandings within your mind the moment you exchange money for them.

At for example, is in a way a sort of technology but its a cultural technology yet I never hear of hard SF exploring this angle. Instead, its the fetishization of how you can use tungsten orbs and catching nets to devise the most efficient cooling system possible or how fast your imaginary drive can go because you studied pusher plates and nuclear propulsion on wikipedia once and felt a tingle in your hind brain about it. We're all fundamentally excited children when we see big numbers, but but numbers alone don't make a compelling story I think.

As an example, I genuinely don't think of The Expanse has hard SF and it has nothing to do with its warp drive but instead its total lack of understanding that the fundamental ways in which society functions would drastically change in such a time.

Humans who act like we do today even fifty years in the future are the "guys painted green with deelyboppers" of science fiction of today and nobody outside of study seems to notice this.

If an author can't imagine a fundamentally very different social system but an go on for hours about how optomagnetic holographic storage and nano-vacuum tubes with switching speeds in the terrahertz range are wonderful I think the author just wants to talk about cool things they like indulgantly and not really even do science fiction.

That's particularly difficult for me becuase I'm someone who often does exactly that! I am a VERY self-indulgant writer!

In conclusion I'd say its less I'm either a fan or not a fan of hard SF (I do love using technology to tell a story which is what hard SF does) but the fact "hard" SF is held in higher esteem than "soft" SF speaks to an emotional insecurity in the audience that they should want to forgo the humanities and uninform themselves of the human condition as if they are above it in some way which I frankly find rather ghastly.

I think science fiction's most important lesson is not to do the torture nexus again and I think without the humanities that becomes rather difficult.

Sorry if this is a bit of a funny answer.

I appreciate the question, and thank-you for your time.

[ronwestbreeze]

you're gonna go far | 6

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 8.5k

read on AO3

It was a little difficult to get out of bed that morning.

One of those days.

Long and exhausting. It was challenging to get stuff done. You knew things like this wouldn’t just go away instantly. But you hoped that maybe…

It wasn’t too bad like before. You were able to think about the chores that had to be done later in the day and pushed yourself out of the bedroom.

So you went through most of the day barely existing. Norm was the first to notice your slight change in behavior because he began trying to joke more with you—no matter how bad they ended up being—and tried getting you out of your head. And you were thankful for that. At least that’s what was different this time around. You weren’t entirely alone nor held up in your room.

That was progress, right? You honestly couldn’t tell. Sometimes you felt like you were still stuck, that you weren’t moving forward. Or getting better. At least back to what you used to be.

Yet, you’ve been this way—asleep—for so long that you have forgotten what you used to be like. You forgot when the last time you smiled. You forgot when you felt the most happy or any other emotion besides anger and grief.

You wondered where that part of you went. Some days you went searching. Other days you somberly accepted that it was a part of you, that you were never going to get back.

At some point, you figured it died along with your mother.

“You want me to check on the baby today?” Norm asked you as you were getting ready for your link for the day.

You shook your head as you sat on the link bed, “No, I’ll be fine. Just one of those days, you know? We all have em’.”

He frowned when you shrugged it off or appeared a little too nonchalant about it, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Thanks for offering though.”

“Anytime, Doc.” He gave you a pat on the shoulder, while watching you particularly closely, “Just tell me you need a break. Don’t push yourself, okay?”

He was nice. You needed something like that.

Neytiri noticed it too.

While the two of you were in the garden that day, Neytiri had been saying words in Na’vi for you to repeat. And you did it, not perfectly of course, but you managed. It was just that you didn’t take in any information. Not in the way she knew you to.

You had a certain look that told Neytiri you were hanging onto her every word, whenever you were learning something new from her. Eyes slightly vibrant with curiosity.

That look wasn’t there today. Instead, in its place was a dullness and lifeless sort of unfocused gaze.

Your ears were low again.

Neytiri didn’t know when she became so attentive to your moods or facial expressions. So much so that she could tell when you were somewhat happy and really, painfully sad—

You were just easy to read in this form.

Yes, that was it.

“What is wrong, tanhi?” Neytiri eventually asked because she didn’t completely despise you so much to ignore your change in mood.

There was a twitch in your ears when you heard your name being called. You looked up from the newly planted mushroom seeds you had been mentally counting at Neytiri to find her staring at you expectantly. “Huh?”

She rolled her eyes, “You are not listening. I know you are distracted. What is wrong with you?”

You cringed at yourself for allowing yourself to get so distracted by your swimming thoughts. Drowning in them as usual. “It’s nothing. Just have a lot on my mind.”

But the answer did not satisfy her. Neytiri shook her head, “Sky People are always hiding their feelings. You are doing that. It is okay to be sad. It is natural.”

“I’m not hiding it—” You sighed, turning your gaze back to the mushroom seeds. “It’s just one of those days. Maybe—Maybe today I am sad. I could barely get out of bed and tomorrow it might be worse—what are you doing?”

You watched as Neytiri got up and moved behind you. A second later, you feel a brief tugging at your hair until it became loose from your short braid. “If you want to learn our ways, then you must take care of your hair. I look at it and it is a mess.”

“It was in a braid before…”

“I did not like it.”

With that, she got up again and trekked back into the forest. You watched her go in bewilderment at the sudden change of conversation and attitude from the Na’vi woman. You had no idea what had come over the woman or what made her suddenly leave, but you didn’t focus on it for too long. The confusion and startlement you had was enough energy to continue planting the rest of the mushrooms. You didn’t bother putting your hair back into a braid, not wanting to spend time threading through the thick strands until your fingers were too sore to complete your job. And the last thing you needed was something stopping you from finishing this one simple task—

A splash of cold water was suddenly dumped onto your head, leaving you soaking wet.

And terribly pissed.

You snapped your head behind you to find Neytiri placing the leaf down next to her—which was glistening with water. The same water that was now spilled all over you.

“Neytiri—ouch!”

“Hold still.” Neytiri hissed at you as she ran her long fingers through your hair.

You grumbled but reluctantly listened, still confused and a bit pissed at what was going on. And for a while, the two of you remained there. You, sitting on the ground still counting the seeds quietly to yourself while Neytiri stayed behind you. Braiding a few strands of hair.

It was then you realized just how different your hair was from the way it was in your human body. The hair length was very similar to how you used to wear it when you were a teenager. You wondered then just how old this avatar body was.

Once she was finally finished, she crouched down in front of you to get a better look. Her yellow irises scanning your face and her work. Tucking rebellious strands behind your ear, patting down some of the fuzziness, and making sure the braid was visible around your face.

You watched her quietly. And soon, when she was done obsessing over your hair, she watched you too.

It wasn’t the way you and Jake watched each other. This—this had something different about it.

Time was an illusion here. Trapped in her yellow gaze. You hadn’t realized you had been staring for so long—nor did you realize you had briefly glanced at her lips—until a sudden sound from the forest pulled the both of you out of this strange trance.

And once you snapped to your senses, your body quickly reacted. You shot to your feet and cleared your throat, “I gotta check on the avatar now.” You didn’t meet her gaze. “I’ll see you.”

Before she could stop you, you already scurried off. Stopping once you were far enough away out of her sight.

Stopping when you felt a new pair of eyes watching you rather closely.

You glanced around the forest surroundings as you approached the longhouse with a frown until your eyes locked on another pair of yellow eyes. Severe ones.

Tsu’tey was in the trees further away but enough for you to see him watching you, even when you caught him doing so. He did not look away from you. Narrowed eyes and that scowl resting on his angular face.

For a moment you wondered what the look was for. You wondered what he could yell at you about this time, even though you listened to his demands and had stayed away from the Omatikaya territory.

A scared part of you wondered if he had seen you and Neytiri just now.

Nothing happened. But still, it would give enough ammunition for him to verbally attack you. Hate you even more possibly.

Except there would be no battle today. As Tsu’tey disappeared within the trees without a word.

You were confused but relieved at the same time.

Dealing with an angry clan leader was not on your to-do list. Nor were you properly prepared for it.

After watching the trees in silence, you eventually went inside.

Neytiri watched your retreating figure with a frown, her heart…shifting—only a little bit as you disappeared. Her gaze then moved toward the trees, the area where the sound had come from before. And with an irritated frown, she got up and stalked toward the area.

They were still there. She could feel their eyes on her as she went further into the forest. With a hiss, she glared at the trees, “Come out. Enough hiding!”

Just a little bit above her, a few feet away a familiar warrior snaked out of the bushes and seated himself on the large branch with his usual expression he wore whenever he was away from their shared hut.

Neytiri frowned up at Tsu’tey, “You are watching me.”

“I am watching her.”

After a beat and a quiet sigh, Neytiri climbed up the tree and joined him. Despite his very sour mood, he tugged her close to his side as they sat together. On the branch, they had a good view of the Avatar Compound. A few dreamwalkers were running about but none of them seemed to bother Tsu’tey as much as you did. Neytiri could easily tell with how he kept glaring at the longhouse, the same place she always watched you disappear in whenever you left your false body.

“You have been spending time with her,” Tsu’tey stated more so than asking. There wasn’t much to hide, they both knew Neytiri spent some of her free time visiting you. Only when Tsu’tey or Jake are busy with their duties and she’s finished with hers before the both of them. “I do not like it.”

“She has done nothing.” Neytiri reasoned.

“Yet.”

“And what did I say if she does? I would kill her myself.”

As she said this, Neytiri felt a certain wavering in her heavy words. Like a part of her didn’t believe it anymore.

She rested her head on his shoulder, hugging his arm with a content sigh, “But I cannot ignore what the Great Mother has shown me. She has stopped my bow before and now she’s done it a second time. Do you not think it means something, yawne?”

In the corner of her, she watched as his jaw tightened, his features becoming particularly focused. “I do not trust this.”

“You do not trust the Great Mother?”

“That is not what I mean.” He corrected her calmly. Neytiri knew that Tsu’tey, like any other child of Eywa respected her and trusted in her signs. Always had. That was how he was raised. And she knew he wasn’t about to abandon that because of one demon.

But his words were still reluctant, “I do not know where our Great Mother is leading us. I do not know why she wants that demon spared—when she is just like the rest of them.”

Neytiri considered his words, “Perhaps she is like Jake—”

“There is only one Jake. And she is nothing like him.”

She made a sound of disagreement but didn’t push further on the subject. She noticed how tense he was, how tense he had been for the past week. She wondered then if he was truly upset by this or if there was something more to this quiet anger he so carefully restrained. Of course, his hatred for the Sky People was no question.

But Neytiri knew Tsu’tey.

Skin and bone. Heart and soul.

She knew her mate. Not only as a mate but as a friend. They had grown up together. Along with her sister, Sylwanin. There was nothing he could hide from her even if he tried.

“She may not be like Jake. But clearly, the Great Mother has chosen her for a reason. My mother even allows her to stay—I believe it is time you seek the answers.”

Tsu’tey scoffed but didn’t brush her off. Instead, he leaned in closer, allowing his hand to rest on her growing stomach. “You will be a great Tsahik.”

“Not as great as my mother. Nor my sister.”

Tsu’tey shook his head and cupped her cheek, “You will be great, my beautiful heart.”

A soft smile tugged at her lips only to falter when she noticed how exhausted he truly looked. How close he looked to breaking but hiding it. He could never hide it well from her. Nor Jake.

She then took his face in her hands and whispered soothingly, “What is it, my love?”

Knowing that there was no point in denying a response—knowing that Neytiri would not stop until she got what she wanted—Tsu’tey turned away from her to stare back at the compound.

“The Tipani clan are becoming reckless. They already do not like the Sky People that have stayed—but now that the demon has come, I worry they will begin to take matters into their own hands. I worry…that our clans will begin to clash.”

Neytiri took his hand in hers and pressed a gentle kiss onto his knuckles, “If it comes to it, I will stand by you. Jake will too. But I also will ask you to speak to our Great Mother about your troubles.” She caressed his exhausted lines with a small frown, “I worry for you, Tsu’tey. I do not want you to take on this task by yourself. You have Jake and I to be with you. That is why Eywa brought us together.”

Right then, he seemed to consider her words. His gaze was still unfocused while staring at the longhouse. A silence settled between them.

“Eywa has created this new path for us.” Tsu’tey mused. “Somedays I wonder if it will lead to something good in the end.”

“Do you think it won’t?”

He was silent. And Neytiri didn’t push.

When Tsu’tey went to the Vitraya Ramunong, the night had already settled around him. When he went to kneel at the tree, connecting his queue to one of the links, his prayers were silent. But his questions were clear. His intention was pure to the Great Mother.

What does it all mean? Guide me, All Mother.

So when a single atokirina flew away from the tree, Tsu’tey took to following it both out of curiosity and apprehension. The Great Mother’s answers weren’t always clear. If anything, her signs only led to more questions.

So, Tsu’tey wondered. He wondered if this would lead to any more answers.

Or just more unwanted questions.

Tsu’tey rushed through the forest, never losing sight of the spirit. He kept going and going until he was nearing the Sky People’s base. Until the trees suddenly became familiar. Until the grounds he had seen many times before unwillingly began to appear around him.

But his body never stopped moving. He never stopped following it. Too desperate for answers. Too desperate, too yearning.

Oh Eywa, he was yearning.

And then, and then, and then.

And then he was staring down at your still false body.

It was strange. Seeing no life in your face. Tsu’tey had only seen your false body from far away, but now seeing you up close. You looked so different yet the same as your human form.

Why was he here? Why did the spirit bring him to…

No.

No.

No.

His vision rippled. Your body morphed from your human form to your false body—impossible.

And then he woke up.

Awake.

Awake.

Awake.

Tsu’tey finally realized where he was. Instead of standing in the middle of the forest chasing an atokirina, instead of standing over your false body, he was back in his hut. With his mates sleeping next to him. With his son cuddled between both Jake and him. With Neytiri hugging his waist from behind.

A dream. It was only a dream.

But why you? Why you?

Why?

“Yawne?” Tsu’tey breathed out a sigh and looked over his shoulder to find Jake shifting out of his sleep, looking at him through heavy eyelids. He sat up a bit, careful not to disturb Neteyam’s sleep as he did, “Another nightmare?”

Tsu’tey hesitated—considered the question. The dream he just had. Was it a nightmare?

“No. I am fine. Go back to sleep, my love.”

Jake didn’t look entirely convinced but eventually lied back down. Usually, it took a while for Jake to fall asleep, so Tsu’tey lay back down, adjusting Neytiri’s arm around his waist and squeezing his other hand on Jake’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jake asked, his voice deep and sluggish.

Tsu’tey nodded, and tucked his nose into Neteyam’s cheek as gently as he could, “I am now.”

It took you a little longer to get out of bed the following week. But you managed. You watched a few more of your mother’s logs and even some of the other ones still in the system.

Dr. Augustine. Norm. Some guy named Quaritch. And then there was Jake Sully.

As a human.

You paused the video to examine his face. You suppose the traits matched his now blue form. The only difference was that instead of his longish dreads, he had a buzz cut in the video. And a tattoo poking out of his short sleeve shirt.

Eventually, you moved on, willing yourself to forget his face for the time being.

You also tried not to think about the fact that Neytiri hadn’t been back for about a week now. Which was normal. You didn’t overthink it. Especially not after that moment—

Eventually, you moved on, willing yourself to forget your thoughts about her.

Then you remembered Tsu’tey. Him watching you so closely. You hoped he didn’t see you and Neytiri. Frankly, you weren’t sure what would happen if he did know.

He’d kill you. That’s for sure.

Eventually, you moved on, willing yourself to forget all three of them.

When you finally got out of bed, you continued with your regular schedule and tried to think of literally anything else. You tended to your garden by yourself and continued checking the baby.

There was a bit of determination for yourself, to keep moving. To not stay in one place any longer or else you’d be stuck.

And you weren’t sure if you’d make it out if you did.

Jake continued visiting the tank room whenever he could.

Today was one of them. Only this time you made it before he did.

“How’s the baby?”

You glanced up briefly from your notes, “Healthy. It might be because Na’vi babies might grow faster in pregnancy—judging by that we might have a couple more months before it’s born.”

Jake nodded, his face serious, “Anything else?”

For a brief second you didn’t respond, too caught up in your thoughts until you realized he had asked you a question. Jake tilted his head, brows furrowed at you.

You shook your head eventually, “No, everything’s all normal.”

He stared at the belly for a moment longer before he left. You were somewhat surprised at his quick retreat but didn’t think much about it. He was some type of great warrior, he was probably busy with something else in his clan. If it meant that the two of you didn’t have to interact much with him anymore or probably a lot shorter than before, then you were okay with it.

It seemed he finally took the hint.

All you could do was keep moving.

Jake came again the next day.

This time around you brought out the ultrasound.

He watched you and the machine intensely. You noticed and gave a sound close to a huff or a snort, “Nothing’s wrong with it. I’m just doing a thorough check-up today.”

A quick look of relief crossed his otherwise exhausted features, “Right, right, of course.”

Once you got the ultrasound running and connected to the avatar, you immediately found the heartbeat with the blurry image of the fetus appearing on the screen. It had grown considerably since the first time you saw it.

“There she is.” You mumbled mostly to yourself. The heartbeat was calming in a way, easing your usual tense muscles.

Jake perked up instantly, staring at you in disbelief, “She? It’s a girl?”

You glanced up at him briefly to find a soft expression on his face upon looking at the fetus. Neteyam—who you just noticed attached to his chest—sleepily snuggled closer to his father’s chest. When his head moved out of the sling, Jake held the back of his head, giving it support.

“Yes.” You gave a short nod.

Another look of relief flashed across his face, this time he didn’t try to hide it like before. A small smile tugged at his lips, “That’s—That’s nice. Amazing.”

In the corner of your eye, you watched him. That easy fatherly expression fell upon his face. How soft his smile was, for something that wasn’t even his. You weren’t sure what to think of it—no, you expected it. It was foreign. A father loving his child. To you at least.

You didn’t know your father. Nor did you have a father figure in your life. That type of love was unfamiliar to you.

Love itself was a foreign concept that you could not yet grasp. The only time you could truly say you experienced something close—similar to love—was with your mother.

And if love was like this—heavy. Leaving you…like this.

You weren’t sure you would want to experience any type of love ever again.

“You sure you’re ready to take on another?” You raised your brows, not looking up from the belly.

Jake looked at you, “Do you care for my answer?”

“I am watching over her. I suppose I should make sure she is left with somewhat tolerable parents—that is, if there aren’t any problems with her when she’s born.” You hummed, rolling your eyes at the sudden look of worry on his face. “Relax, that’s the standard check-up of any baby—well, I don’t know how different it will be compared to human ones.”

A beat went by before he finally answered, “I wouldn’t be honest if I said I wasn’t nervous. What new parent isn’t?”

“Mmm.”

The rest of the session was just the two of you, sitting in a somewhat comfortable silence. Comfortable for you because you were able to ignore him without any problems. And Jake wasn’t being too talkative or apologetic, which was a plus. But he was noticeably less hostile toward you as the time went by. Showing that he was taking the truce quite seriously and keeping his end of the bargain.

In other words, the truce was possibly the best option for you both. You could work in peace without being hammered or interrogated. And Jake would continue his visits without any problems.

You still didn’t like him. And you were sure the feelings were mutual.

But things were becoming easier.

And sometimes you like easy. Just as much as a challenge.

There was a part of him that was curious. Jake didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand Neytiri’s easy trust in you but it only made him more curious as he kept coming to see the baby.

Of course, you were guarded and curt around him. And he was quite the same but that didn’t mean he wasn’t at least a little bit interested in why you were so important to their deity.

So many questions.

A part of him wanted to ask Eywa himself—he wasn’t much used to praying to her but he would now and then out of respect for the People. If he asked, he would possibly gain an answer—which was incredibly rare—or he would gain more questions, which was the more common response.

So, Jake took to finding things out for himself. Even if it meant doing it the hard way. Even if it meant getting his head out of his ass and finally putting things into perspective.

Jake Sully was willing to at least keep this tolerable relationship with you going. Keeping this stable cord steady. You weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. It was time he had to get used to it. It was time for him to get over himself.

And he was willing to show that he did want something different. That he was ready to change, to finally understand you in a way.

But you still didn’t like him. Which was fine.

He didn’t like himself all that much either.

Another week went by and Neytiri still hadn’t come back. Surprisingly, you found yourself missing her. And when you began missing others, you got angry.

Since you didn’t feel like going through that process again, you resolved yourself to thinking that she must’ve gotten busy with her clan. Or grown tired of watching over you and your depressing personality once she realized that you weren’t a threat to her clan.

That must’ve been it. That’s what you chose to believe at that moment.

One day at a time.

You moved forward. Because you had to.

Throughout the week you focused on your work tending to the garden, checking on the baby, and even taking on more responsibilities around Hell’s Gate.

Sometimes you’d help Dr. Patel in the bio labs, other times you went with the other avatars to train your body. There were also days you would help Norm pack different human items he’d usually bring for the Na’vi children of the Omatikaya Clan. You, of course, never ventured too close to their territory whenever you went with him to drop off the items. You’d either stay in the ship you flew in or stay at the base as he left on his own.

Jake still kept coming around but his time there became shorter and shorter with each visit. Again, you didn’t bat an eye. You welcomed it and continued with your work.

Toward the end of your busy and long week, you woke up with a start when a blaring sound struck your room. It had to have been the middle of the night as you looked around frantically, only to realize the sound was coming from your tablet.

Quickly, you grabbed it to find the alarm was the system alerting you something was wrong.

And the problem was coming from the tank room.

You stumbled out of your bedroom and dashed through the long halls until you finally ended up in the tank room. Not caring that you were probably making a bunch of noise in the process.

When you got to Augustine’s tank, your heart sank when you found Grace’s avatar was violently twitching with the lights inside of the tank blaring a red.

“Fuck!” You hissed as you immediately checked for the problem.

The first thing you checked was the avatar itself. Her heart and the baby’s were fine but the avatar’s was slightly elevated, probably in response to whatever was happening to the machine which was the next thing you began to check.

There you discovered that something in it was malfunctioning. Throwing the liquid temperature off, the placentiums weren’t giving any more nutrients like they were supposed to. Whatever was going on, you didn’t have time to fix it or the machine.

If you wasted time like that more damage could be done and you weren’t going to risk that. Especially when the baby was in there. Especially when the baby could receive the worst of your mistake. Of this malfunction.

So, you worked fast.

You searched the room for an empty tank—which you were able to find and rolled it over next to the one Dr. Augustine’s avatar was in. You pulled the empty tank open just as Norm and a few other scientists entered.

“What happened?!” Norm questioned hastily.

Quickly, you jumped down from the empty tank and rushed toward Grace’s, “It’s malfunctioning. I don’t know why but we have to move her.”

Thankfully, Norm didn’t ask any more questions. He ordered the other scientists to help you.

You worked quickly. Draining the rest of the liquid from the tank, carefully moving the avatar—this required multiple hands—until you placed it in the new tank.

“Track her heart rate.” You ordered one of them.

A second later, a woman responded, “Stable but its body temperature’s dropping fast.”

By the time she said that you closed the tank. “Norm, fill it up.”

You jumped down, grabbed the heart monitor from the female scientist, and watched the lines closely. The tank was nearly filled up as Norm came up beside you.

Along with the heart monitor, your heart pounded through your ears as the tank finally filled up. You gave the monitor to Norm and went to adjust the temperature back to the usual settings.

When the blue lights came on it felt as if the room breathed a huge sigh of relief. You took the monitor back as Norm hummed, “Lucky you were the one to get here first. And quick thinking too—do you know what went wrong with the other one?”

The rest of the scientists poured out of the room as you slowly shook your head. “I don’t know. I couldn’t waste time, Spellman. Not when it could’ve risked the baby.”

Norm nodded and patted your shoulder, “You’re right. Good work, Doc.” He moved to the other side of the tank with a thoughtful expression. “You want me to stay and help with anything else?”

The lines on the monitor were stable, which brought you some sense of comfort. And yet the slight panic remained. “No, no. I’m good here. You can go back to bed. I’ll finish up here soon.”

“Okay.” Norm eventually moved toward the exit. “Get some sleep, Reeds. I’m serious.”

You nodded without looking at him. “Yeah, sure. Goodnight.”

“Good morning.” Norm corrected with a tired grin.

With that, Norm left. You breathed in a steady breath before grabbing a chair from the corner of the lab and sinking onto it. The monitor was kept nearby, the heart rate melodic in your ears as you set your tablet down on your lap.

For a while, you studied how far along the avatar was. It had been a good couple of months since you first discovered the child—which left her at about twenty-four to twenty-seven weeks at least. That’s not even counting when she first got pregnant. But compared to a human, the Na’vi pregnancy went by a lot faster, which also confirmed your theory.

Or maybe your perception of time was fucked up with how distracted and busy you had been.

Was that why the malfunction happened? Were you too distracted to notice any faults in the system during your usual sessions? What did happen?

You contemplated this for a while. Until your mind became hazy and your eyes droopy. At some point, you fell asleep next to the tank because there was no way you would leave the fetus’ side at that point. Not after all of that.

It felt as if your eyes had been closed for only a couple of seconds before you were suddenly jolted awake to find Norm standing over you.

“What happened? Is it the tank again?” You instantly asked, turning to check on the tank.

“No, no, no—the—she’s fine!” Norm quickly assured while easing you back into your chair. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.”

You stared at him for a beat, both a tired and an annoyed expression easily falling upon your face. “Well, I assure you I certainly wasn’t sitting with my eyes closed just then.”

Norm winced, “Sorry. I thought you’d want to get in your own bed before Jake gets here.” He rubbed the back of his neck as you got up from the chair. “I had to tell him what happened—he’s flying over now.”

“That’s fine.” You grumbled. “I can stand just one day in the same room with him. Besides, I should probably figure out what went wrong with that tank.”

Norm nodded, “Okay—uh, should I be a mediator for the both of you or..?”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s not like I’m meeting their clan leader.”

“You really need to try and get along with him.” Norm chuckled with a shake of his head.

You scowled, “Are you going to keep yapping in my ear about it or be useful?”

“Alright, alright, don’t an ass.” He strolled toward the doorway. “Jake’ll be here in fifteen.”

Once he left, you got to work again. You weren’t an official engineer but you knew a good amount of information from your training back on Earth. You hoisted yourself up and into the tank before you began taking it apart. You stood in it, trying to find out what exactly had gone wrong��while glancing at the heart monitor now and then.

Your brain was moving quickly yet hazily from the sleep. Eyes honed in on the mess of wires in front of you. So distracted by your silent questions and theories that you didn’t hear the incoming footsteps. Only the voice that followed after.

“What happened? Is she okay?”

“Yes, she’s fine.” You replied immediately, watching in the corner of your eye as he approached the new tank. His hair was tied back and across his chest was a leather strap that carried what looked like a machete. “It was just a malfunction with the tank. We were able to get her out before any real damage could be done.”

Jake frowned, “Malfunction? How the hell did you let that happen?!”

“Look, I don’t know.” You replied calmly, ignoring the twitch in your jaw. “I’m still trying to figure all that out. But she’s out of it and fine. Norm helped if that makes you feel better—”

“I thought you had things handled? What happened to that?” Jake scowled, his tone vicious.

“I do.”

“Then what the hell happened—”

“I already said I don’t know!” You seethed, glaring down at the group of wires now hanging from your hands. Somewhere in the back of your brain, you realized that Norm really did have to stand between the two of you. That this truce wasn’t stable enough. That the two of them were just too explosive. “The hell do you think I’m trying to do? Kill the baby?!”

You missed the way Jake’s face faltered slightly, catching himself. “No…No, that’s not what I—”

“Then get off my fucking dick!” You snapped, throwing a piece of the tank to the floor with a clatter.

All sound was gone from the room then.

This was the last thing you wanted to deal with. Being scolded like some child—like you already weren’t beating yourself up over this mess.

You sunk onto the floor of the tank and continued working. Because that’s what you were best at. Not conversations. Not people. Not love.

Work. It was everything to you.

Already you were mentally drowning Jake out, ignoring the fact that there was another person in the room with you. But eventually, you realized that there was nothing wrong with the wires. It must’ve been something else. Another theory down the drain.

Jake uttered your name at one point. And you ignored him.

There was a sigh followed by a short pause before he spoke, “I’m sorry.” You continued ignoring him. There was something about his apologies. You were just tired of them. “That wasn’t fair, you’re right. I shouldn’t have come at you like that—”

“Augustine’s avatar is over there.” You mumbled. “You can check on her yourself.”

There was another silence but you were too focused on what was in front of you to notice or care. You were so determined to ignore him and the sting in the corners of your eyes.

You didn’t like to cry. Especially in front of others.

Thankfully, you ignored him long enough until you realized you were finally alone.

After a while, you breathed out a tired sigh.

Fortunately, as the days went by there were no other problems with the new tank or baby, but it didn’t stop you from always double-checking everything after that close call. So much so that you didn’t realize how much sleep you were missing until Norm pulled you away from your work and forced you back into your room. Locked the door and everything just to make his point.

With the promise of Norm taking care of your work, you eventually allowed yourself to sleep for practically the entire day. Not without the tablet on the dresser next to your bed of course.

Even after catching up on some semblance of sleep, Norm still didn’t let you get back to your schedule right away. Which irritated you of course.

“I don’t want you in my garden, Spellman.”

He rolled his eyes, “And I don’t want you stressing yourself out. As your friend and colleague who happens to care about your well-being, I demand you stay away from the garden until you’re completely rested.”

You frowned at him, “We’re friends?”

“Shut up and accept my love.”

And he kept true to his word. Norm kept you away from the gardens, even the tank room. And made sure that the scientists knew how to keep you away as well. He covered all of his bases.

Damn him.

You couldn’t sit around and do nothing though. So, at some point you were so desperate you resorted to practically begging Norm to just give you something to do that would distract you throughout the whole day. You nagged and nagged and nagged until Norm finally gave in.

“There’s an old link shack north of Hell’s Gate. We’ve been thinking about restoring all of them around the area. But that particular shack’s connection is a little wonky. Maybe you could head over and restock the supplies with your avatar. Maybe even fix the connection while you’re at it.”

You nodded quickly, “Yeah, sure thing. I’ll get on that—”

“And don’t try to sneak your way to the gardens!” Norm added sternly, sending you a look over his shoulder while clicking away at his computer. “Plus, you won’t need the Samson ships. The shack’s not too far from here.”

With that, you went to grab supplies, such as med kits, weapons—one gun and a few stacks of ammo—blankets, Na’vi weapons, a hunting knife, and a bow with a few arrows. You kept the hunting knife to yourself just in case.

After getting all of this, you placed the bag of supplies in the compound longhouse where your avatar always slept when you weren’t linked. Once you got to your link bed and linked up with your avatar, you grabbed the hunting knife and the bag of supplies before taking off north from Hell’s Gate.

The sky was grey today with a few darker clouds on the horizon instead of the shimmering blue you were used to. A storm might’ve been coming.

Which meant you had to make this trip quick. There was no telling how bad these storms could get on this planet.

Similar to how you traveled through the forest with Neytiri, you took to the trees so that you’d have less of a chance of running into or disturbing any of Pandora’s finest. Hopefully, you had learned to be quiet enough to not draw any attention your way as well.

As time went by, the sky got darker. You followed the coordinates Norm gave you while slipping through the trees like the true shadow you were. Traveling and climbing through the trees got easier as you went. You had done it enough times with Neytiri that you knew what to do and how to do it. Albeit not perfectly, but enough to get by. Blending into the environment as best as you could.

You enjoyed it, the vibrant life and colors of the forest once again. Every time felt like you were taking in Pandora for the very first time. Every time felt like a huge breath of the freshest air. Here, you were weightless. You weren’t a scientist. You weren’t human. You weren’t an avatar. You were just were.

You existed here. You were real.

Truly this place was everything you dreamed of when you were younger.

Rain began to pour by the time you spotted the shack. It was propped up and well hidden in a large tree, with moss growing out of the sides, the entire thing looking like it hadn’t been used in a long time.

You slid down from a branch as quietly as you could and landed in front of the metal entrance. By the time you got the door open and crouched inside, you were soaking wet from the rain.

The shack itself wasn’t too small, which surprised you. It must’ve been made to allow avatars to be able to roam freely through here without too much trouble.

Once the door was closed, you sunk onto the empty cot in the corner of the shack and began unpacking the supplies. The med kit went into the cabinets above a wooden table attached to the wall. The blankets went on the cot. The gun and ammo went under the cot in a long black case filled with old and rusted weapons you had to throw out into the rain. You kept the hunting knife tucked in your shorts.

The rain kept going. It was relaxing. Stopping for a moment to listen. Smelling it through the cracked window next to the cot you sat on.

It was nice. You could stay here if you wanted. This could’ve been your new home if you didn’t have responsibilities at Hell’s Gate.

Lastly, you worked on the radio that sat on the wooden table—which you assumed was connected to the main base. So, for the next few minutes, you took your time messing with the radio. Listening to either ongoing static or barely audible voices going in and out. At some point, you messed with the wires a few times before Norm’s voice finally came through.

“Tomato. Tomato. Tomato.”

You pressed one of the buttons, “Hey, Norm.”

“Oh, Jesus! Reeds!” Norm startled. “Warn a guy next time!”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, “I just wanted to test if it worked. Clearly, I fixed it.”

A snap of thunder drew you away from the radio. Seemed like it was getting worse out there. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been out there until now.

Norm seemed to realize this too, “You gonna stay there and unlink?”

“Mmm.” You paused. “I’m gonna try bringing the avatar back.”

He sighed, “Alright, good luck.”

“Don’t need it.” You said as you got up. “I’m too awesome.”

“Whatever, Reeds.”

Another clap of thunder filled the air as you stepped out of the shack. Immediately you were soaked by how heavy the rain was.

Thunder continued to boom, making your skin jump every now and then. It was just terribly cold, making you start to run so that you could get out of it faster.

You ran and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, only to realize just how much noise you were making and that the area was too unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t long until you realized how lost you were. It was just too dark to navigate your way back or recognize any familiar spots guiding your way.

With that in mind, you went toward the nearest tree and began to climb.

But your body was yanked away from the tree bark almost instantly as you were tackled down to the ground by a large weight. Your left shoulder exploded with vicious pain as if a bunch of sharp knives buried itself into your skin and continued to tear through it.

A strangled scream left your lips as the thunder clapped in the sky once more. You could barely see the creature but it was a dark, large beast. Digging further into your shoulder.

You hadn’t even seen it coming. You hadn’t been paying attention.

Now…

Now you might die because of it.

You tried shoving at it, managing to get most of its weight off of you. But the teeth were still in your shoulder. There was still pain. There was still warm liquid dripping down your arm.

When you moved your leg, you remembered the hunting knife in your shorts. Immediately, you dug into your pocket and found the handle instantly.

After that, you didn’t waste any time stabbing at it blindly and desperately. You did this, you kept going until more warm liquid covered your knife-wielding arm. You did this until the animal was limp against your body. Until you were able to push it off and scramble to your feet and run.

The pain was awful but bearable enough for you to run back to the shack at least. Mud was all over your clothes—some of it in your mouth. If anything, you probably looked insane right now.

You ran. Ran. Ran. Ran. Ran. Way too clumsy to be quiet. What’s worse was you had no clue where you were. And there was more shuffling coming from the bushes and trees surrounding you. If anything, you were probably throwing yourself further into the lion’s den.

It wasn’t long until a black creature suddenly came out of the bushes in front of you, causing you to stumble to a stop as it made its way toward you. Sleek and dangerous. Eyes locked on you.

Thunder boomed again. An identical creature came out from your right. Another on your left. Another. And another. And another.

Until you were surrounded. Until you knew there was no way you were going to make it out of this.

You kept your knife in front of you, trying to ignore the pain in your shoulder, the warm liquid running down your arm, the shakiness in your legs. You began to wonder how much blood you were losing with your energy slowly dwindling as time went by—no, it didn’t matter.

Damn it, you weren’t going to die here! Not like this.

“Come on!” You hissed as you pointed the knife at them. “Come on!”

They growled at you, closing in. Finally, one of them pounced toward you. With the knife, you slashed at it. At that, the creature cringed away and missed you entirely but that didn’t mean the others were going to try their luck.

Out of instinct, you stumbled back as two more tried coming for you. Your back hit a tree as you yelled and swung your knife wildly at them.

Only neither the creature nor your blow landed.

The two creatures were thrown to the side as another clap of thunder struck your ears.

Another figure emerged from the trees and rushed toward you.

Instantly, you swung the knife, only for it to be caught in an iron grip.

You screamed.

“Hey, hey, easy!”

It took you only a couple of moments for you to register the words and that they were coming from a familiar avatar. The last person you ever expected to be here.

Jake lowered your arm with a hiss. You blinked as another round of thunder rattled your ears.

The creatures were closing in again. Jake turned his back to you, hissing at them. His larger arm stretched in front of you protectively when one of them got a little too close for his liking. The creature hissed back

You watched warily behind him, still clutching the dirtied knife. Both of you exhausted and animalistic. Yellow eyes glimmering. One with warning and the other with desperation.

Jake looked terrifying in this light. Just as murderous and dangerous as the animals that surrounded you.

You remained behind him, trembling but glaring. Gripping that knife like your life depended on it.

There was suddenly more shuffling, more thunder, and the creatures then scattered.

You, dumbfounded by this, spoke shakily, “Why did they—”

Jake grabbed your wrist holding the knife.

“We need to move.” He said, dragging you forward.

The two of you ran in the opposite direction of the creatures. He hauled you up a tree before climbing up himself. “Is there a link shack nearby?”

For a moment, you wondered how he knew about the link shacks. You leaned on a branch both to catch your breath and because the quick movements left you a bit dizzy. When you couldn’t come up with plausible answers to your silent question you instead said, “I just came back from one. North from here—I don’t know how far it is.”

Your body leaned a little too far. Jake was quick to grab you in his stronger, more stable arms as he pulled you away from falling off the edge, “Hey, hey, Reeds, I need you here with me, okay? Just stay awake long enough until we get to the shack and we’ll clean you up.”

“I’ve...I’m losing a lot of…” Blood. Blood was what you wanted to say. But the adrenalin was wearing out. Your shoulder throbbed horribly. Exhaustion weighed you down and placed inconvenient black spots in your vision.

“I know.” He draped your good arm over his shoulder and kept you upright. “I know, we’ll get there. I promise.”

There was no arguing with him. You were soaked to the bone and in a hell of a lot of pain. Going back to the shack was your best bet in this horrid weather.

Jake continued to support your weight as the two of you followed the same coordinates leading back to the shack—or rather you haze inaudible directions of what you could remember from the information Norm had given you while Jake haphazardly followed.

Thankfully, the rest of the way wasn’t a long journey. Or maybe you just kept blacking in and out along the way, you didn’t know.

Jake and you stumbled through the door of the shack. He closed the door while you made your way to the radio with whatever strength you had left.

“Norm.” You tapped the radio while wincing. The pain in your shoulder was getting worse. Before now you had been tolerating it. “Norm, can you hear me?”

The static went on.

“Storm must be messing with the signal,” Jake said from behind you as he rummaged through the shack. “We should stay here until the storm settles—”

You rested your head against the small table, the rest of his words becoming nothing but muffled noise to your ears. God, you’ve lost so much blood. And you were so tired.

For a moment, just for a few seconds, you wanted to sleep. Only for a moment.

“Reeds.”

A larger hand rested on the back of your neck, bringing you slightly out of your unconsciousness.

Jake kept calling your name. “Hey, where’s the med kits at? We need to work on your arm, okay? And I need you to stay awake. Can’t have you unlinking in this condition.”

Sluggishly, you nodded, “They’re in the cabinets.”

More thunder rolled by. Jake left your side briefly to search through the cabinets above you. You leaned back in your seat, staring bleakly up at the ceiling.

“How long do these storms last?” You asked.

The thunder responded with a clap.

sorry for the long wait! hopefully it was all worth the wait. another 8k chapter, yay, that wasn't difficult to write at all lol! but now jake and reeds are alone in a shack. anything could happen....

(i'm not adding anymore people anymore!)

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @sillyblues @squirtlebob @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird @slutforsmut4ever @lik0

[damned-punk]

Happy Birthday Killer (Killer x Reader)

@gratefulcheeses Kidd Pirate’s Month 2025 🏴‍☠️

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Content Warning: self esteem issues

Content Description: Killer is going through a difficult time following the SMILE incident but you have hope for the future ♡

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Following Killer’s selfless consumption of the failed SMILE fruit, your relationship had changed. You weren’t sure if it was for better or worse, but a metamorphosis had taken place where you were closer but farther apart than ever before. He was still Killer, undeniably the man that you loved, but things were different. It was as though he cared even less about himself than usual, constantly throwing himself into the most dire situations for the most minuscule gain. He worried you and no matter how you articulated this to him, he just wasn’t getting it.

It wasn’t that he’d grown cold or distant, but rather that he was preventing himself from feeling anything toward you. He despised his laugh and that it was the only way he could display his affections for you, he didn’t want to lose you but he didn’t want you to have to live with him like this. He’d said many times that this wasn’t what you signed up for and that he would not fault you for leaving him, it was all too much to bear. Turning to the only other person on earth who might be able to get through to him, you brought the issue to the Captain.

His usual reprieve of being a loud, sarcastic asshole was lost as soon as Killer was brought up. This was just as dire and near to Kidd as it was to you, he’d nearly lost his best friend too. It took days for Killer to even speak to Kidd, the image of him bandaged head to toe and laughing maniacally through tears would never leave you. Kidd of course agreed to help, never shying away from anything that concerned his partner, and instructed you to give them space for the time being.

This was somewhat of a problem as Killer’s birthday was only a short time away and you wanted so deeply for him to relax, even if just for a few hours. You considered coordinating with the crew for a nice dinner and time spent together but it just didn’t seem appropriate. They were rowdy as hell and while letting loose did seem appealing, it wasn’t right for the occasion. Killer had been sleeping in his own cabin since the incident which had been hard in its own right, but it allowed you to prepare in privacy. You lightly decorated and prepared a quiet celebration only to be enjoyed by the two of you, three if Killer wanted Kidd at his side.

It was strange going about things in this manner, Killer was far from delicate but this felt necessary. You’d already had an idea for his gift and wrapped it in a small black box with a blue bow, simplistic and perhaps a bit silly but hopefully something that would bring him even the smallest amount of joy. You’d had it made on an island during one of your last supply runs, ensuring that you saved it for his birthday.

Once things were settled in your cabin, you let Kidd know your plans and he agreed that approaching the celebration in this manner was the best course of action. The crew still showered him with congratulations and gifts, but you wanted to preserve some level of intimacy for time with him that you hadn’t had in a while. You waited until that evening, approaching him after cake had been passed.

“Meet me in my cabin when you’re ready.”, you leant up to speak near his ear, giving his arm a light squeeze for reassurance.

You waited for him on the bed, gift in hand, hoping that he wouldn’t be against spending time alone together. The minutes felt like hours but just as you began reaching the threshold patience, heavy footsteps echoed through the empty corridor just outside your cabin door. They stopped outside for a few moments, likely in an attempt for him to brace himself for whatever you had planned. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried, you’d been so patient with him for so long that he wouldn’t be surprised if you were fed up. He reluctantly grasped the door handle and pushed the door open, awkwardly standing in the doorway after closing the two of you off from the others.

“Come sit.”, you held a small smile on your face as you patted the spot on the bed next to you.

He wordlessly obeyed, making his way over to occupy the space at your side.

“Happy Birthday, I hope you like it.”, you stated softly while placing the gift in his hands.

He laughed for a moment, his expression caged by his mask. You studied the way the mask contoured around his skull, your eyes combed over the grooves in the metal from Kidd’s handy work. You hated the mask for what it represented, but it was a part of Killer no less. He seemed to be unsure about opening the box, he felt like he didn’t deserve to receive something from you after so many terrible things transpired on Wano.

After several long and grueling moments, he finally opened the box and lifted the silly present to hang between his fingers. It was a small golden bracelet with the teeniest, tiniest pasta charm. On the back of the charm were your’s and his initials, a small gesture that he could wear and know that you were with him always. Suddenly, his laugher surmounted and his head flew backwards. He did what he could to stifle the sound, his shoulders shaking violently. You wrapped your arms about him, his hands lifting to meet your skin.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I’m sorry I-“, he began to apologize but you stopped him immediately.

“None of that… not tonight. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”, you reassured him, “I love you and I know that we can get through this… Always have and always will.”

“Always have and always will.”, he repeated, tucking your promise into the back of his mind for safe keeping.

There was undoubtedly a lot of uncertainly on these seas but a small part of you was sure that things would work out in the end, no matter what that would look like.

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[letteredlettered]

Hello there! I recently read your thoughts about By the Grace, in which you mentioned that you've never been happy with how it turned out. (I am one of the readers who love BtG, btw, I found it transformative in the sense that i loved it so much that I felt changed afterwards. my comments trace my slow disintegration 😅). I wondered if you'd be willing to share which fics of yours you like the best - which fics came out as you wanted them to, which fics make you feel understood and known? (Totally understand if this is too personal an ask btw but just thought I'd see if it's something you'd like to share).

Well, hi. You sent this ask in August of 2022. I am apparently very very behind on a lot of things. I just had a lot to say to you and didn't have the energy to say it. I'm currently dealing with some health issues so fandom is actually now one of the only things I have energy for, so here I am.

The first thing I want to say is how glad I am that you liked By the Grace. It's hard not to love something I've written, but I think it shows so much about our humanity that something I find so deeply imperfect could be something that really worked for you. Thank you so, so much for all your kind words.

The second thing I want to say is that for me, the fics I like best are the one that came out as I wanted them to, but they are not necessarily the ones that make me feel seen and known. For instance, I wrote By the Grace because I felt upset about the world, and I also felt upset about some things in fandom that felt like an ugly reflection of the world in a place where I didn't want to have to think about such things. The fact that people love BtG, in spite of its flaws, makes me feel that people understood what I was trying to say, no matter how imperfectly I said it; they care about its message and its values, even if I couldn't deliver those messages and values in the way I hoped and worked for.

Another example is The Way Down. The Way Down is one of the first Harry/Draco fics I ever wrote. I started writing it in 2007, and I was in a very difficult place at the time. It was two years after I finished college; I still wasn't doing anything with my life; I felt like a failure. I started to want to stay inside, never leave the house, never see anyone I knew, never do anything but talk to people on the internet all day long. Incidentally I felt very lonely and left out of the fandom I wanted to be a part of, which was H/D. No one was interested in my writing and I couldn't make friends in that community. I couldn't finish the fic. I got myself out of that situation, moved across the country, got a job, made new friends, and also stopped caring as much about whether my fic was popular. I was able to finish the fic because I as a person changed, and that fic reflects both parts of that journey. I don't actually think it's a good fic; some of the characterizations are too fanon for my taste; some of the scenes are a bit too silly; a lot of the deeper parts don't go deep enough. But when someone loves that fic, when it really touches someone, it's like they're loving me as I was then, loving the fact that I got myself out of it, loving a person who can struggle in that way. And that means so much to me.

Meanwhile, Away Childish Things is a perfect fic to me. It came out exactly as I wanted and said so much about both Harry and Draco that I had been wanting to say, that I felt I hadn't been seeing in fic. I knew it was good when I was writing it. Frankly, I thought people would like it, and I was right. I'm not sure that people loving it makes me feel seen and understood. It's not like ACT isn't a personal story for me--it's terribly personal! But I don't think it's saying things that make me feel bad about myself, or that I think other people or the world are struggling with. It's a sharp story that I think many people can identify with from different directions.

In terms of fics that turned out exactly as I hoped, The Eighth Tale is another such fic. It always makes the list because I had this idea for so, so long--a fic in which the war didn't go as it was "supposed" to, but instead drags on and on and on, a fic in which the canonical ending is glimpsed, but other endings are glimpsed too, a fic in which universes collide into the idea that the ending is never set, it's always the choices we make that give us our own endings. But whenever I imagined such a fic it was half a million words long, and while such a fic sounds interesting, I am so glad that @tacktigerfic would come along so many years later to write that grand epic. Meanwhile, what I had in mind was just a little paradox timey-wimey business that should take only 15-20K to get out into the world. I just didn't know how to do it. But finally, I read a fic that really inspired me with its voice (in a completely different fandom; it's Crow on the Cradle by Refur in SPN fandom if anyone is interested) and it helped me to understand I would need a very particular narrative voice to make this fic happen. Then I sat down and wrote it in about two or three sittings. It's exactly what I meant to do.

Ginny Weasley: Dragon Slayer is a similar fic in that it did exactly what I wanted to, and I wasn't sure I would get there. I think both of these fics are things I often think of as perfect because I have a habit of having rather small ideas that quickly turn huge and unwieldy. It's why BtG is a problem, imo. I love that I was able to make these fics concisely what I wanted them to be, no more, no less.

There are fics in other fandoms that are exactly what I want them to be: Sincerely Your Pal, in Captain America fandom, Say More in The Untamed (CQL) fandom. The End Resting Only on Air is the perfect end to my series of fics in The Walking Dead fandom. I still think Or Even Rearrange You has the best Tony Stark voice I've read, and that's cool because I wrote it. The Chuck Writes Story for SPN fandom is one of the cleverest and most incisive things I've written, because it's about SPN fandom more than SPN--and I happened to write it before SPN even had the mythos that it does now. But in terms of fics that make me feel seen/understood and I'm perfectly happy with how they are written, Responsible Science in MCU is always my answer to which fic I've written is my favorite fic for a reason (although it's actually a series). That Lesson Alone in Schitt's Creek fandom is probably one of the most personal things I have ever written, and I wouldn't change a word of it.

But in H/D fandom, if you want a fic of mine that I'm happy with, that came out exactly as I envisioned, and makes me feel seen and understood, only one fits the bill: The Pure and Simple Truth. I actually don't think the writing is perfect--I would tighten it up a little, maybe. But it's exactly what I wanted to write, and it was so fun to write; I still think it's fun to read. But on top of that, this fic is also trying to say something about morality that I think is really fundamental to who I am. It's trying to say things about friendship and forgiveness that I believe with my whole soul. It's trying to say things about conversation, what that means for people, what that can build, what community is and what it isn't. I've gotten a few comments over the years from people saying they didn't really understand it. I've also gotten a lot of comments yelling at me about it because there isn't a kiss at the end. I've also seen people saying that the fic is suggesting that Neville's a bad person because he struggles to forgive folks who tortured him, which is the exact opposite of what the fic is about.

But when people do get this fic, when they comment or message me to tell me what it means to them to see folks who have hurt each other, some of whom have been actual torturers and part of hate groups, come together and grow from that, discuss that, and learn to love in spite all of that...wow, that makes me feel like the things I care about aren't just mine; other people feel that way, which is a wonderful feeling.

[tagamantra]

realities, maximalism,and the need for big book™️

some gubat banwa design thoughts vomit: since the beginning of its development i've kind of been enraptured with trying to really go for "fiction-first" storytelling because PbtA games really are peak roleplaying for me, but as i wrote and realized that a lot of "fiction first" doesn't work without a proper sort of fictional foundation that everyone agrees on. this is good: this is why there are grounding principles, genre pillars, and other such things in many PbtA games--to guide that.

broken worlds is one of my favs bc of sheer vibes

Gubat Banwa didn't have much in that sense: sure, I use wuxia and xianxia as kind of guideposts, but they're not foundational, they're not pillars of the kind of fiction Gubat Banwa wants to raise up. there wasn't a lot in the sense of genre emulation or in the sense of grounding principles because so much of Gubat Banwa is built on stuff most TTRPG players haven't heard about. hell, it's stuff squirreled away in still being researched academic and anthropological circles, and thanks to the violence of colonialism, even fellow filipinos and seasians don't know about them

this is what brought me back to my ancient hyperfixations, the worlds of Exalted, Glorantha, Artesia, Fading Suns... all of them have these huge tomes of books that existed to put down this vast sprawling fantasy world, right? on top of that are the D&D campaign settings, the Dark Suns and the Eberrons. they were preoccupied in putting down setting, giving ways for people to interact with the world, and making the world alive as much as possible.

one of my main problems with gubat banwa was trying to convey this world that i've seen, glimpsed, dreamed of. this martial fantasy world of rajas and lakans, sailendras and tuns, satariyas and senapatis and panglimas and laksamanas and pandai... its a world that didn't really exist yet, and most references are steeped in either nationalism or lack of resources (slowly changing, now)

i didn't want to fall back into the whole gazeteer tourist kind of shit when it came to writing GB, but it necessitated that the primary guidelines of Gubat Banwa were set down. my approach to it was trying to instill every aspect of the text, from the systems to the fluff text to the way i wrote to the way things were phrased, with the essence of this world i'm trying to put forward. while i wrote GB mainly for me and fellow SEAsian people, economically my main market were those in the first world countries that could afford to buy the book. grokking the book was always going to be severely difficult for someone that didn't have similar cultures, or are uninterested in the complexities of human culture. thus why GB had to be a big book.

in contemporary indie ttrpg spaces (where I mostly float in, though i must admit i pay more attention to SEAsia spaces than the usual US spaces) the common opinion is that big books like Exalted 3e are old hat, or are somewhat inferior to games that can cram their text into short books. i used to be part of that camp--in capitalism, i never have enough time, after all. however, the books that do go big, that have no choice to go big, like Lancer RPG, Runequest, Mage, Exalted are usually the ones that have something really big it needs to tell you, and they might be able to perform the same amount of text-efficient bursting at the seams flavor writing but its still not enough.

thats what happened to GB, which I wanted to be, essentially, a PbtA+4e kind of experience, mechanically speaking. i very soon abandoned those titles when i delved deeper into research, incorporated actual 15th century divination tools in the mechanics, injected everything with Martial Arts flavor as we found our niche

all of this preamble to say that no matter how light i wanted to go with the game, i couldnt go too light or else people won't get it, or i might end up writing 1000 page long tome books explaining every detail of the setting so people get it right. this is why i went heavy on the vibes: its a ttrpg after all. its never gonna be finished.

i couldnt go too light because Gubat Banwa inherently exists on a different reality. think: to many 3 meals a day is the norm and the reality. you have to eat 3 meals a day to function properly. but this might just be a cultural norm of the majority culture, eventually co opted by capitalism to make it so that it can keep selling you things that are "breakfast food" or "dinner food" and whatnot. so its reality to some, while its not reality to others. of course, a lot of this reality-talk pertains mostly to social--there is often a singular shared physical reality we can usually experience*

Gubat Banwa has a different fabric of reality. it inherently has a different flow of things. water doesn't go down because of gravity, but because of the gods that make it move, for example. bad things happen to you because you weren't pious or you didn't do your rituals enough and now your whole community has to suffer. atoms aren't a thing in gb, thermodynamics isn't a real thing. the Laws of Gubat Banwa aren't these physical empirical things but these karmic consequent things

much of the fiction-first movement has a sort of "follow your common sense" mood to it. common sense (something also debatable among philosophers but i dont want to get into that) is mostly however tied to our physical and social realities. but GB is a fantasy world that inherently doesn't center those realities, it centers realities found in myth epics and folk tales and the margins of colonized "civilization", where lightnings can be summoned by oils and you will always get lost in the woods because you don't belong there.

so Gubat Banwa does almost triple duty: it must establish the world, it must establish the intended fiction that arises from that world, and then it must grant ways to enforce that fiction to retain immersion--these three are important to GB's game design because I believe that that game--if it is to not be a settler tourist bonanza--must force the player to contend with it and play with it within its own terms and its own rules. for SEAsians, there's not a lot of friction: we lived these terms and rules forever. don't whistle at night on a thursday, don't eat meat on Good Friday, clap your hands thrice after lighting an incense stick, don't make loud noise in the forests. we're born into that [social] reality

this is why fantasy is so important to me, it allows us to imagine a different reality. the reality (most of us) know right now (i say most of us because the reality in the provinces, the mountains, they're kinda different) is inherently informed by capitalist structures. many people that are angry at capitalist structures cannot fathom a world outside capitalist structures, there are even some leftists and communists that approach leftism and revolution through capitalism, which is inherently destructive (its what leads to reactionaries and liberalism after all). fantasy requires that you imagine something outside of right now. in essence read Ursula K Le Guin

i tweeted out recently that you could pretty easily play 15-16th century Luzon or Visayas with an OSR mechanic setting and William Henry Scott's BARANGAY: SIXTEENTH CENTURY PHILIPPINE CULTURE AND SOCIETY, and I think that's purely because barebones OSR mechanics stuff fits well with the raiding and adventuring that many did in 15-16th century Luzon/Visayas, but a lot of the mechanics wont be comign from OSR, but from Barangay, where you learn about the complicated marriage customs, the debt mechanics, the social classes and stratum...

so thats why GB needs to be a (relatively) big book, and why I can contend that some books need to be big as well--even if their mechanics are relatively easy and dont need more than that, the book, the game, might be trying to relay something even more, might be trying to convey something even more than that. artesia, for example, has its advancements inherently tied to its Tarot Cards, enforcing that the Arcana guides your destiny. runquest has its runes magic, mythras (which is kinda generic) has pretty specific kinds of magic systems that immediately inform the setting. this is why everything is informed by something (this is a common Buddhist principle, dependent arising). even the most generic D&D OSR game will have the trappings of the culture and norms of the one that wrote and worked on it. its written from their reality which might not necessarily be the one others experience. that's what lived experience is, after all

*live in the provinces for a while and you'll doubt this too!