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shokolandish · 30 days

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was thinking about comphet niffty

accidentally wrote this

this uses my vision/redesigns/rewrites of the characters, my niffty is not exactly the same as she is in the show, she's still pretty insane and fucked up most of the time, but sometimes she can say things that make sense and actually has empathy (sometimes)

idk i thought it would help her feel more adult-like

i love how insane og niffty is but her being so mindless doesn't really help her child-like-ness and i don't really like when shows/their fandom infantilises adult characters

also i would really love if niffty and husk interacted more so uh

yeah

idk if husk is ooc here but i tried my best to keep him relatively canon-like

enjoy(?)

[establishing shot of the bar]

[husk sits at the bar table all alone, wiping a glass]

[shot changes to the door, niffty peeks through]

[shot goes back to husk but the shot is wider, so we can see a tall chair being dragged to the stall, then we see niffty flying up and sitting down on it]

[buzz puts all four of buzz' hands on the table and blinks with all buzz' eyes one after the other]

[she's nervous, she taps on the counter with all her hands one after the other]

[husk, without any real reaction on his face, looks up at her for a few seconds, then looks back down and goes back to wiping the glass]

[the room becomes silent for a moment, the only things you can hear are the wiping of the glass and niffty's tapping]

HUSK (not looking up at xer)

You want a drink or are you here for something else?

[niffty looks at him, startled a bit]

[xe then looks away awkwardly, tapping even faster]

NIFFTY

I... Actually wanted to talk. [pause] But some liquor would be nice.

[they stay silent for a bit, husk puts away the clean glass, then gets the bottle and pours it in a glass so it's half full]

[he moves it over to xer]

[he takes a new glass and starts wiping it too]

[niffty takes it and sips a bit]

[she cringes a bit from the taste but still gulps]

[she then slams the glass on the table, but it doesn't spill because it's not that full]

NIFFTY

Oh yeah, that's the stuff.

[pause, husk looks at her with a neutral expression, stopping wiping the glass a moment]

HUSK

...so, you still want to talk or..?

NIFFTY

Oh! Right. [pause, she starts stimming by moving the glass a bit from side to side] I... Might have. Some. Weird feelings right now.

[husk doesn't reply, just looks at her with am eyebrow raised]

NIFFTY

And i know they're... Kinda wrong, but... [pause, you can only hear the glass moving across the table and back] They... They feel so right somehow. It's... So weird.

[pause, niffty stop moving the glass for a moment]

HUSK (starts wiping the glass again}

Well, if they feel right, then what's the problem?

[pause, niffty looks away and starts moving the glass again]

NIFFTY

I mean... It's not something... I'm supposed to be feeling.

HUSK (not stopping wiping the glass)

Why's that?

[pause, niffty stops moving the glass]

NIFFTY

I kinda... Like someone.

HUSK (putting away the old glass and taking a new one)

Isn't that normal?

NIFFTY

No, I mean, like... I like-like them.

[pause, you can only hear husk wiping the glass]

HUSK

[not looking up at her] That's also normal I'm pretty sure.

NIFFTY

[sigh] I don't think you really understand me.

HUSK

[shrugs] Maybe you should explain it again.

[pause, niffty moves away the glass and starts tapping on the table again]

[she looks around, then looks down]

NIFFTY

It's. Not exactly a boy.

HUSK

Okay.

NIFFTY

And I'm... Also not a boy.

[she stops tapping]

HUSK

Okay.

NIFFTY

Husk, that's... Not really. A thing that. Should happen.

[husk looks at her with a raised eyebrow, then looks back down]

HUSK

Why?

NIFFTY

Because I'm supposed to... Like boys.

[she starts tapping again]

HUSK

Says who?

NIFFTY (moving her hands around/gesturing actively while speaking)

Like... Everyone? I dunno, I just... I always thought I liked boys. But now that i like... A girl... It feels very different.

HUSK (putting away the glass and the cloth he was wiping it with)

How so?

NIFFTY (calmed down a bit, looks more upset)

I thought what I felt towards boys was what... Liking someone felt like, but... Now that I actually like someone... I don't know if I... Ever liked anyone else in that way. I don't know if i have ever felt this way about any boy before.

[husk doesn't reply]

NIFFTY (stops moving around)

Husk... Can I like girls if I'm not a boy?

[pause]

HUSK

Sure.

NIFFTY (surprised, flapped xer wings several times and flew a couple cm up, then landed down as xe spoke)

Really???

HUSK

Yeah. Why not.

NIFFTY (not moving around)

Have... [pause] Other people ever felt that?

HUSK

Almost everyone in this hotel have, I'm pretty sure.

NIFFTY (even more surprised)

Really? (flew a bit higher, landed back on the seat and winced a bit, but wasn't hurt) Even you???

HUSK

I guess. I mean, I don't really care bout gender stuff when liking someone, so probably. Tho haven't really liked someone in a long time, but you know. In theory.

[pause]

NIFFTY (sitting still)

Huh... I never really knew that was a thing.

HUSK

Have you seen the people that live here? I thought it was pretty obvious.

NIFFTY (sitting still)

I guess I didn't realize that was even a possibility...

HUSK

(shrugs) Eh, you learn something new every day I guess.

[pause]

NIFFTY (taps on the table a bit)

You know, now I'm not sure I ever liked boys. Is that... Okay?

HUSK

Yeah, why not.

NIFFTY (stops tapping)

Huh.

[niffty smiles and looks away]

[pause]

[niffty looks at husk, who already started wiping the next glass]

NIFFTY (smiles)

Thanks, Husk.

[xe flies down and quickly runs away, leaving xer unfinished glass of liquor on the table]

[husk looks over at it and sighs]

[he takes the glass, downs it in one gulp, winces a bit and moves away the glass from himself on the table]

[shot changes to the hotel]

[shot changes to the hill hotel is on, you can still see the hotel]

[fade to black]

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heinzpilsner · 1 month

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Tadadada! Here's the epilogue to my 'Overanalyzing beach Maiko' series.

Firstly, let's list some main conclusion theses:

1) Mai became interested in Zuko's problems after he directly mentioned his scar and his relationship with Ozai for the first time, so her final change of attitude does make some sense.

2) The basis for Zuko's irrational jealousy was Mai's annoyed facial expression after he criticized Ruon-Jian.

3) The context of Zuko's jealousy rampage actually leaves a loophole for not-possessive interpretation (yay).

4) Despite how badly Zuko screwed up, Mai somehow managed to screw up even more (yep, still sounds contr-intuitive).

5) Mai actually expresses herself all the time and her "childhood trauma" is a big bullshit.

6) Apart from his inner crisis, Zuko has to fix many problematic attitudes and personality settings before he'll become a decent romantic partner for anyone.

7) So does Mai.

Something like this.

And now, a bit of old good boring and inaccurate psychology lecture mistake correction.

I think that I misinterpreted Zuko's side of "bring me food" scene, actually. You see, I saw it as conscious submission in order to avoid conflict with Mai, but...

It actually looks more like Zuko genuinely didn't realize that Mai's demand was not okay. He wasn't exactly eager to please her*, but he also didn't see her attitude towards him as problematic.

(*Not catching Mai's "I'm hungry" initial hint is kind of an indicator of Zuko's cool-off towards her. I mean, acts of service is his typical way of showing affection, which makes his sudden cluelesness pretty notable.)

Basically, Mai and Zuko in this scene demonstrate opposite facets of locus of control problem. Simply put, they both believe that Zuko is responsible for something he really isn't - in this case, satisfying Mai's hunger.

Later, though, it's Zuko who believes Mai owes him something - namely, to give him affection and meet his emotional needs. In his head, he gives responsibility for his emotional well-being to Mai and scolds her when she "ignores her duty" by not being "passionate" enough.

(But while Mai doesn't owe Zuko anything formally, she made a mistake of severely underestimating Zuko's contribution into relationship and his real value for her. This resulted in her coldness and lack of gratitude in response to his affection, which is quite a big relationship screw-up.)

Okaaay, and with that part out of the way, it's time for my final personal reflections.

In general, I have no doubts I made lots of other mistakes during my analysis. I tried my best, but to dissect relationship conflicts correctly, you need to have good feeling of personal boundaries and empathy of your own. And... Well. It's not exactly my forte.

I compensate for some things with theoretical knowledge, but my mind is a mess, so... Yep.

I feel like I have to go and read more psychological theory after this.

Also, I kinda tried to do an entertainment out of this, and roasting format doesn't exactly mix good with being objective. So, yep. It seems I got some kind of useless Frankenstein monster in the end, lol.

And finally... Perhaps I had to make it clear much earlier, but...

I have nothing against Maiko shippers or Mai fans. Ta-da!

I'm sure they have a lot against me now though, pffft.

I realize what I wasn't exactly restrained in my roasting, so it's natural for you to dislike me. But my goal wasn't to tell you what your preferences are inadequate or something. I mean, I myself ship much more toxic problematic shit (and have a weak spot for all sorts of flawed characters). It isn't supposed to be about being rational. You like it, I don't, it's ok.

Dunno, maybe someone needed to hear this.

That's all, I guess. If you were reading this series - thanks for your attention. Despite everything, it was a rather interesting experience for me, and I hope you found something useful for yourself too.

I wonder what I should analyse next >:D

I ignore all notifications, but maybe I'll make an exception soon. Ta-da! What a cliffhanger.

#atla #zuko #mai atla #anti maiko

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sonadowlesbian · 1 year

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small cringe sonadow brainrot fic under the cut; please do not critique, i got possessed while writing this.

it’s nighttime; shadow is seen at atop a building, sitting on the ledge of it, staring at the moon. he seems to be lost in thought.

in the same moment, sonic just so happens to be running on buildings in the same town. he stops in his tracks as he sees an old friend; the dark, brooding hedgehog’s ear twitches at the sound of rubber squeaking behind him. he looks at the blue hedgehog, wincing a little, and looks down at his own feet; he appears troubled.

“hey, faker! what are the chances we’d meet in the same town! this kind of thing never happens!”

shadow playfully scoffs at sonic’s sarcastic remark, but his smile quickly drops to its usual position. sonic mirrors this expression, questioned and concerned at whatever’s going on in that guy’s head, like usual. he can’t quite explain how, but sonic can sense shadow’s motionless invitation to sit with him; he slowly walks toward him.

“uh.. hey bud? is there anything you need to talk about?”

sonic stands to the left of shadow, who’s not making a peep; he sits down and stares at the moon, mirroring shadow.

the moon is taking up the sky, outshining all the stars. it glows a cold, but comfortable feeling. the night sky is sonic’s favorite part of his adventures; it looks the same to him no matter where he goes. the familiar presence reminds him that he’s never far from anyone.

“you see that dot? right next to the moon?”

sonic jumps at the sound of shadow’s voice first leaving his mouth, shadow’s face is the same, but somehow softer,

“that’s the ark. cycle is very similar to the moon’s. sometimes they aligned perfectly, if you’re there at the right time and place”

sonic smirks,

“heh—yeah, i’ve seen it, myself! hey, uh.. not that i mind, but why so chatty?”

shadow flushes a bit, just fully realizing who exactly he’s talking to,

“i just—…”

shadow doesn’t know how to respond. sonic scoots in a little closer,

“dude. i don’t even feel empathy and even i can sense something’s up. chat up.”

shadow sighs, it’s hard to tell if it’s of relief or annoyance; maybe both,

“do you remember how when we met there was a big focus on our… resemblance? like how we looked compared to each other?”

shadow takes a good look at sonic,

“do you… still see it?”

sonic hesitates; he realizes what he means. they really… don’t look all that similar. the shape of their quills, face, everything… did they ever bare a resemblance in the first place? sure, there’s some things that could be understandable to mistake from an outside perspective, but overall… they’re their own hedgehogs with their own lives,

“not really. i don’t think i ever truly have.”

sonic and shadow are very similar in their own ways; preferring aloneness, their speed, hunger for achievement; they’re like-minded. they’re the only ones who truly get each other; they know exactly what do to to creep in the other’s heart’s, they’re basically are star-crossed in that way. they both realize this. in whatever life they were supposed to live, they were meant to meet.

“me neither.”

refusing to make any eye contact with sonic, shadow’s smiles returns at the thought of how ridiculous the whole thing is. for the longest time he felt as if he needed to top sonic’s strengths and abilities when there’s no reason to, to begin with. this whole time he could’ve had a friend with similar attributes, but instead concocted his own delusion of a combative rivalry. is it too late to… start over? would that be wrong? his grin drops a bit,

“i— …i’m sorry.”

sonic returns the statement with a look of confusion; he smirks,

“for…?”

shadow’s face roses up,

“ugh! i don’t know!! for… fighting you all the time???”

sonic blankly stares for a second, but quickly gets sent into a laughing fit,

“HAHA! HUH? what’re you on?? i have fun fighting you!”

“WELL—“ shadow sighs “i dunno— how you uh— interpret my attitude while it occurs..?”

sonic softens just a little bit

“well, you seem to have fun, don’t cha?”

shadow gives sonic a genuine smile and quickly looks away,

“well…. i more meant—! you know how there times where i—? ugh idk i feel like i could be.. rough sometimes?”

“heh. i think it’s kinda fun getting you like that….”

shadow squeeks at the statement; he wasn’t expecting it. he knew sonic liked teasing him, but never expected him to admit it like that,

“you— ughh..”

as shadow puts his head in his paws, sonic, delayed, realizes what he just said; he panics,

“I DIDNT—!! WHAT I MEANT WAS—!!! I MEAN THAT I LIKE—!! UHHM!!”

a loud silence fills the air; the two pathetic and overly dramatic hogs readjust their composure. this whole time the two have been friends, having fun, sharing experiences, and they never even noticed it. everything they been through put them where they are today.

shadow scoots closer to sonic, and looks at him,

“i think we should bump into each other more often.”

sonic’s heart skips a beat,

“heh, our regular, unexpected appearances’re not enough for ya?”

shadow smiles; for once in his life, for whatever reason, he feels… safe. what he was missing was there right along, a connection. shadow bumps his head into sonic’s, resting himself,

“i guess not…”

sonic’s face turns bright red. for whatever reason, he, too, feels as if whatever was missing from him clicked into his brain. for the first time, sonic didn’t get drained by a presence; it was as if there were no one there at all, but he didn’t feel lonely. he loosens himself for the first time in a long time.

OKAY NO MORE CRINGE FAIL MOMENT I CANT WRITE BUT I HAVE SO MCUH BRAINROT

#sonadow #this is qp but can be interpreted in whatever way #brainrot #fictive stuff #ramble #ficlet #don’t read unless ur a gay people #text #long post

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ponds-of-ink · 9 months

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Far-Fetched MXES “Theory”/Detail Compliation: The Ruin-Born Meme is Possibly Right?

No, this isn’t supposed to be clickbait. The meme seriously might be correct if a few weird details I’ve seen from different sources line up.

Firstly, which is the weirdest clue, his chin.

Yes. His chin. We are really going to use this as possible evidence. (Thank the first person to discover this, by the way. Couldn’t have made this post with ‘em.)

Because, if you look at Springtrap and Scraptrap...

They have this shared “cleft chin” of sorts that isn’t hard to miss once you notice. Unless you’re me, who keeps forgetting to include it in my human William designs.

Meanwhile, with Glitchtrap and Burntrap...

They (unsurprisingly, depending on who you ask) don’t.

But, for reasons that are completely unknown to me, MXES has that chin the other modern-day Afton-suspects lack.

..Not the best image of it I could find, but yes that is a cheft chin.

Keep in mind that I’m not sure why exactly this detail is in this design. I’d say “Oh it’s to throw veterans in for a bigger loop when they play Ruin for the first time”, but I don’t think William’s cleft chin has been brought up much? Correct me if I’m wrong there.

My only other guess is that it’s supposed to be a hint towards MXES and William being more directly connected somehow. Though obviously nothing’s settled as concrete yet, here’s a bit more food for thought... if you’re still with me, that is.

Secondly, MXES’ Beta Design (or Ruin-Born himself, if the meme nickname makes more sense), actually kind of lines up with William’s appearance in the Fazbear Frights books. Both were tall, skeletal semi-rabbits/semi-human.. A shame that’s where the similarities seem to end, because any more descriptors from the book would’ve solidified this as proper evidence. There is a lot of unstable, glitch-like twitching in the old design’s animations, so maybe it confirms it being MXES...?

Anyway, this last one is an even bigger stretch that the rest. It’s practically speculation more-so than grasping at straws. Humor my late-night attempt at logic for a second.

If we’re going by Glitchtrap being “dead” via Security Breach’s Princess Quest ending, then who or what is going to be the antagonist of Help Wanted 2? Or at the very least, who’s going to be the creepy bunny peeking out of some random doorway this time?

Well, if Help Wanted 2 is a prequel to Ruin (much like how HW was a prequel to SB), then MXES would be a pretty good candidate. Vanny’s left her antagonist role behind, Scrap-Trap is probably only going to be showing up in FNAF 6 mini-games, and.. Well, I’m not really sure what other candidates there could be in-between SB and Ruin.

The point is that MXES’ origins might get explored... in the more Afton-centered VR game. With William himself getting either a new voice or two voice actors in a partially-collaborative effort, if both Matthew Curtis’ Twitter bio and Springtrap’s ghostly whispers in Ruin are anything to go by.

...Just remembered that there is also the detail of MXES smiling more when... I don’t remember exactly, which is a pain, but it’s either the longer you leave your mask on or the closer he’s getting to jump-scare you with an animatronic. Dunno if that “proves” anything, but I’d thought I’d bring it up before I kicked myself later.

TL;DR - The chin’s the main concern, but there’s a couple of other things that are off too. If it turns out I’m right about this, then I’m not sure how I’d feel.. yet.

#fnaf mxes #william afton #fnaf ruin #fnaf theory #pure speculation #crackpot theory

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hapigairu · 8 months

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@deathbirby mentioned you on a post “when I read a 3h fic involving the nabats I...”:

@hapigairu lol go right ahead

Thank you!

So... um... I thought the idea of the fic was to have Edelgard in the Blue Lions or something? Why does it look like a retelling of CF? "rhea forces edelgard to transform into a nabatean and it's very body horror-ish. she's like a mad scientist, completely crazy, insane, delusional and everything you would expect from CF fanfic rhea." That sounds like something Cornelia would do, not Rhea. Dunno how cruel Rhea is supposed to be there, but the whole mad-scientist with horror-ish vibes is very much a Cornelia thing. I am very confused. "rhea talks about the red canyon tragedy and seteth even mentions how he's heard her screaming at night babbling for her mother to come save her and it's just.. kinda shrugged off cuz bad things in past doesnt let you do bad things now (hmmm hypocrisy)" I mean... that's true that you can't justify doing terrible things because you had a traumatic past, obviously... Except Edelgard can for some reason? What? Also if someone's traumatised to the point of "screaming at night" (though I don't think Rhea would do that, I could see her crying when she's alone though), maybe don't shrug it off and help them regardless of what they've done? Which... Rhea did some questionable things (and still it wasn't out of malice at all), but absolutely nothing so evil that she should be denied compassion or help? Am I crazy in thinking that?

"also something where the holy tomb splits or something (rhea had a hand in that im pretty sure because of course) and sothis's dragon corpse is in there and that alone makes draconic features appear on the nabateans (pretty sick idea all things considered)" Splits? But yeah, that's a neat idea (the whole draconic features thing)! "edelgard's sibling (???) is a massive rhea simp and very zealous because of course"

Sibling? Okay, why not. Maybe they didn't all die, which... good for them and Edelgard! I don't think it's a bad idea at all, especially since the drama potential can be very strong. But how did they end up simping for Rhea if they were basically prisoner of the Agarthans? How does that happen? I'm guessing it's explained, but... it better be a very good explanation for it to make sense. And yeah... of course you can't like Rhea without being a zealot. *sighs* "the agarthans are more sympathetic?? like you can have an agarthan standing next to seteth without him losing his shit. also the holy tomb is apparently an alien mothership now because why not (thales said that. why is thales even alive idk)" The Agarthans are just so comically evil that I can understand wanting to flesh them out and add some complexities to them. Personally, I'd like to think that some Agarthans living in Shamballah are really not cool with what Thales and the others are doing, but freedom isn't exactly a thing in Shamballah when it comes to "Surface Dweller Sympathisers" or something like that. Cause no group is a monolith and surely, there must a minority of them -however tiny- not okay with their leaders? Like, younger people who are just done with having to hear about Thales' hate spiel and just want to live their damn lives? Idk, maybe I'm completely off-base with this lol. But yeah, I can't see Seteth be totally calm and collected when someone who likely participated in murdering his race stands near him. Just... nope. "epic final battle against rhea! you got edelgard, hubert, jeralt(??) and byleth all up against rhea! and she holds her own quite well. and then byleth gets knocked out and sothis takes control to scold rhea. and because even her own mom is against her rhea loses her will to live (not literally but she actually does lose her immortality as punishment??)" That's...uh... huh. Sothis is a bad mom and somehow it's her daughter's fault because it's always her fault? Seems a bit fucked up if you ask me. "oh and you get fun moments where edelgard yells at rhea during the fight and throws arguments at her. she thrust nobility onto humanity (false), she made herself a false idol (??), etc." Ah, yes. Rhea is the reason why nobility exist. What's that? What about Brigid and Almyra? The fact that they have nobility shall be either ignored or still be Rhea's fault somehow. And like, we don't know exactly how the Church was created IIRC? Yeah, Rhea had a hand in it, but she wasn't the only one I'm guessing? It reminds of a fanart where -after the battle against Nemesis- some soldiers said they fought for her and she was really moved. Really nice fanart, hats off to whoever did it. "if im not mistaken, the author of the fic is a "agarthans are actually natives and sothis was a colonist" believer. so that should give you a general idea." Yeah, that checks out. It's such a shame that, for all the discussion about how everyone is supposedly morally grey (lol), not many people are actually trying to give Rhea and the Nabateans nuances. She's far from perfect (and she knows it actually) and she has so much potential as a morally-greyish but ultimately good person. But not even KT/IS (IS a bit more with FEH) are interested in being fair to her, so it's no surprise most people aren't either. And, ofc, no hate to the author. It's just disappointing to see that the Rhea hate is so prevalent.

#deathbirby #rhea deserves better #also i'm tired of characters getting hated on for not being absolutely perfect in general #looking at you Rodrigue my beloved or Matthias Gustave etc #and it's okay to dislike them but treating them as if they're the worst scum on Earth is... eh

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quibbs126 · 10 months

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I suppose with the new dragon rank we'll potentially get the cookie forms of the twin oreo dragons (if Dark Cacao didn't kill them for causing shenanigans that is-) and maybe the fabled "shaved ice dragon" from the bond story with Eclair regailing embellished feats of Tea Knight to the kiddos

Lorewise it seems that natural born dragons have been extinct for the longest time and the ones left aren't powerful enough to be "downgraded" to a cookie form or just are "lesser" reptiles

Watch for next April Fool's as the fake Pitaya one gets a cookie form that's exactly like Pitaya but so bad that we love them anyways HAH!

Yeah I’m almost 100% convinced the twin dragons are going to show up in the story, considering how important they are to the Dark Cacao Kingdom, and I also feel like they’d be prime candidates for new characters of the Dragon rarity, only problem is there’s two of them, but I don’t think they can be made into separate playable characters, simply because they’re a pair and releasing one without the other doesn’t make much sense, but it’d make even less sense to release two Dragon rarity Cookies at the same time. The two ideas I’ve seen are that they either are released like Chess Choco where they’re technically two characters but function as one, or they end up somehow fusing into one character that ends up being playable, but I don’t know what they’d do

As for the Ice Smoothie Dragon (I looked up the story to reread it again and apparently that was the name of the dragon), I think the end implies that the dragon was in fact an Ice Lizard, not a dragon. Or at least that’s how I interpreted it

Yeah from what it sounds, they can’t maintain their full forms anymore, due to them not being able to draw upon the same strength in the world or something? I dunno

I’m not really sure what you mean by the last bit, but okay!

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #dragon cookies #black dragon of the north #white dragon of the south #answers

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likeabxrdinflight · 2 months

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so I've finished Silver Snow and I certainly...have thoughts

so...I understand why people say Crimson Flower feels a bit unfinished given it just kind of left the Agarthans as an afterthought to be dealt with in the post-script. and I think I agree that they easily could have slipped a Shambhalla chapter or two in between the attack on Arianrhod and the final fight with Rhea in CF, I don't even think it would have been hard. I do think, however, that Rhea needs to be the final boss for CF and I don't think you can change that. Adding the TWSITD as chapters after defeating Rhea is, I think, kinda stupid.

...and it's kinda stupid in SS too, is what I'm saying. The way there's like three whole chapters left after the climactic battle with Edelgard makes the whole thing feel paced very oddly. Like I get why they wanted to address it in this route given the Agarthans are Rhea's primary nemesis, but one- they don't even let Rhea fight them at all outside of the animated cutscene, she's not even an ally unit- and two, they're not even the final boss? Somehow that's still fucking Rhea???

And speaking of which, that just did not make sense as a final boss for this route. At all. This is the church route, the one where I'm supposed to sympathize with Rhea the most, and somehow at the end of it I'm still putting her down for being an out-of-control monster? Like I don't even like Rhea (even in this route I never got past C support with her lol) and I still think that's a harsh ending. It made sense in CF- there was no other character that could be the final boss in CF and have it make thematic sense. But in SS? Not only does it not make thematic sense, it just doesn't make plot sense either. Totally came out of nowhere, happened for no reason, really just felt like they wanted a cool dragon fight for the Black Eagles regardless of whether or not you side with Edelgard.

Despite CF kinda hand-waving aside the Agarthans, both it and Azure Moon (which also kind of ignores them despite the whole Tragedy of Duscur thing) feel like complete, thematically cohesive stories. Neither of them suffered too dramatically from not having a Shambhalla chapter. The character arcs of the main lords feel relatively complete and the general story that each is trying to tell ultimately get told effectively.

I don't feel like I quite know what story Silver Snow was trying to tell. It's not really Rhea's story, she's absent for most of it. It's not Seteth's story either, even though he functionally takes Edelgard's place as the "lord" character. You could maybe argue it's supposed to be Byleth's story? But I'm not sure that's accurate either. There's a lot of emphasis placed on the mystery of Byleth's birth and why they have Sothis' powers, but it doesn't feel like the story is really about Byleth. It kind of can't be, not when Byleth is a silent avatar for the player. So whose story is this? What's it for, and what's it trying to say?

CF was about Edelgard and felt like it was telling a story of revolution, of finding humanity, and had something of an anti-religion tone to it. AM was about Dimitri regaining his good heart and compassion for the world, it was about overcoming personal tragedy. It had the least political feel to it of any of the routes I've played thus far. But SS was about...what, exactly? Upholding the status quo? It didn't feel like it was making a statement about political or clerical reform. It didn't feel like it was about the Church characters all that much. It didn't even feel especially anti-war, even though it had an opportunity to be as the only route you can theoretically enter by actively deciding not to side with Edelgard's war.

Like there were some interesting things going on here. We do learn a bit more about Rhea and the children of the goddess. And Byleth's crest stone is a little better explained (though I kinda had the gist of it by now from the other two routes). So I dunno...I don't feel like it added much for me. It did make me like Seteth and Flayn a little more, but honestly I still just don't care for Rhea. Any good will it tried to extend to her was kind of ruined by the ending where I have to kill her anyways.

Granted I am not predisposed to like Rhea, so any route was gonna have an uphill battle convincing me to like her. But this route was billed to me as the one that was gonna try, and damn it sure didn't try that hard.

I'm told Verdant Wind is very similar to Silver Snow so honestly I'm not gonna play it any time soon. If it's as messy as this then eh...I'm gonna need a break from this particular game before I return to do that route. I do wanna see Claude's story at some point though, so I'll get to it eventually.

#tldr is why the fuck was rhea fridged for like 9 chapters only to wind up the final boss in HER OWN ROUTE??

0 notes

traumamade · 1 year

Note

Todd still felt guilty, after having accidentally set Leon off somehow, and began to think over the conversation for the past five minutes. Slowly putting things together. Now, he may not be the most aware of a lot of things, but god damn did Todd have good observation skills. Realizing, maybe a little too late, how it had all gone down. Todd grimacing visibly as he now felt the same sort of guilt settle in. The man hadn't really had anyone to talk to about what happened to him, so he'd maybe said too much and had made Leon uncomfortable. He decided not to bring it up again, especially not the place. It was clear that the location is what had hit the hardest, which meant maybe... Just maybe... Leon had been there? Todd didn't know, and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask. Man deserved his privacy and to move on.

At least hearing he was all right made Todd gently nod his head and put both arms down again. Deciding he'd be okay without putting the coat back on. As he said, he was used to being cold. Came with traveling homeless for so many years. And maybe a bit of his condition.

"Well thankfully, it's not doing anything bad. Just makes my joints more likely to pop out, but still usable. It's weird... Dunno how to make up for that. I uh, don't exactly have self defense knowledge either anyways." Todd sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, letting Leon ask anything he wanted at this point. "Considering the alley back there, and your words, there's experience so... Guess I'm new! Or broken, who knows."

"Touching my blood doesn't affect anyone no. I've had people patch me up from other things before and they were all fine. It's only if my blood is ingested or meets a blood stream I think... I mean, I know my other fluids don't do anything either. It's just in the blood so... Maybe blood cells or something?"

Suddenly, the way Todd's bones are makes sense. The way they pop out so easily. A lot of things make sense now. How had he not seen it before? He supposes because Todd always seemed so human. A little weird but human.

"I wouldn't say you're broken just nothing I've seen before my entire time as a DSO agent." Even his own virus doesn't have that effect on people, so this is certainly new for him.

"I could find out but I don't want to subject you to that." No one deserves to be poked and proded just for some answers. He's been there and done that, he'd never wish that on anyone.

"You do need to be careful, though. That dog could have ended up killing you if I hadn't got here on time. You're not invincible."

#todd!anon

0 notes

perpetual-fool · 1 year

Text

Muse

(4k)

I sit in my room, on the floor by the bed. I sit frozen, guitar silently in hand, willing for some spark of insight to make some sense of things. There's a knock at the door. "Hey Ari, may I join you?" sang a sweet voice as Mara poked her head in. "I dunno, sure." I tiredly reply. "Sure, yeah, come be my muse." She plops down on the bed behind me, scoots just over the edge and lays her head on my shoulder. "How may I a-muse you this evening?" "I dunno," I say, "I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't know how any of this works." "You clearly have some idea," she says, "you seem to know a guitar is involved somehow. Can you actually play that thing? I mean, it's perfectly alright if you just like holding it, ya' know. I won't judge you. An emotional support instrument?" "I dunno, kinda?" I reply. "I'm getting past the 'every movement is awkward' phase. My callouses have built up enough to play for more than ten minutes, plucking is starting to feel natural. I can play scales but only in one spot, I can't shift around without losing track of where I am. And my intonation still isn't great. I need more practice with the tuner, but that's mentally exhausting and I just haven't had the energy lately. And.." I pause, choking up. "I keep thinking of her. Music was her whole thing. And I fucked up, ya' know? I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I couldn't.. I'm sorry, you don't want to hear about it, right? People don't like hearing about past relationships." "I want you to tell me anything you feel you need to." she says, wrapping her arms around me. I feel tension leaving my body as I hold onto her. "What would be the point?" I say. "I'm still a piece of shit. I'm still a fucking idiot." "Maybe," she says, squeezing me tighter. "But you're my idiot, and I want you to be happy." She holds me tight a moment more. "Anything specific you need to get off your chest?" I shudder as the memory comes back to me. "There was one incident, I don't remember exactly what I said. It was something along the lines of 'you never understood me', I think? And she said 'I guess you're right'". I pause as my breathing goes ragged. "And that still just tears my fucking heart out. I went too far, but I'm not sure I did, actually. I mean, I don't really remember, but the whole point of that exchange was that she just wasn't fucking getting it. I wanted to actually fucking connect and she just went from pretending to empathize to just not fucking caring. I mean, I think? That may not have been our last exchange. Which meant she probably did care? It doesn't make any fucking sense, it never did. I just wanted.." "It's okay," she whispers softly. "I guess I'm on the fence as to whether it was my fault at this point. I mean, obviously it was my fault. But I was lost, I couldn't figure out what to do, it's not fair to blame me for that. And, I wasn't lost for no reason, ya' know? She really wasn't getting it. She never did. All the way back. She didn't see how much pain I was in, she didn't see how alone I was. But maybe she could say the same about me, so maybe it is all my fucking fault." "You are an idiot," she says. "If it went both ways that doesn't make it your fault, dummy." "I guess," I reply, "but I've spent my whole life blaming myself for everything, especially things I couldn't understand. I know it doesn't make sense. It's just hard to believe anything else. It hurts." "Want me to kiss it and make it better?" "Yes please." She leans in and kisses my cheek. I flinch. "You alright?" She asks. "I don't know. Not really?" I reply. "I jusstt have bad feelings about.. everything." "You wanna talk about it?" "There's nothing to share, really. Not that I remember. It's too far back." "What, like before elementary school or something?" "Yeah, must be." I reply. "It's been there as long as I can remember. Although," I continue, "I do wonder. Is this trauma? was I traumatized?" "I'd say so," she says. "If there was a dog that flinched when you pet them, you'd say they were traumatized, right?" "I mean, I wouldn't know, kind of the point. But that would make sense." "Do you want me to not kiss you then?" she asks. "No, pplease do," I stammer. "I don't- think this will get any better on its own. I want-" She kisses my cheek again. I don't flinch so hard. "..Thank you." "Anytime" she says.

"Now," she starts, "you were doing something with that guitar, right?" "Right, where were we?" I return my attention to the instrument sitting in my lap. "..Playing it, um, yeah sorta. I can play it well enough to start making noises that sound like music." "Is that not music?" She asks. "Ughhh, I.. no. Like, technically, yes. I need a lot more structure. But like, purpose? Gimme a sec." "Sure." I take a moment to gather my thoughts. "So yes, purpose. I need to have a reason, well, for all the things. What note to start on, where to go with it, in what rhythm, how to end. And then I want to sing too, which opens up so many more issues. What part does each 'instrument' play? How do I do harmony? How do I write lyrics? Why write those lyrics?"

"Well, as your appointed muse, it is my duty to work you through all that. Hmm," she pauses. "Let's start by just going over that, from the beginning. Why would you start on a particular note?" "Context," I begin. "Notes only sound any kind of way in relation to other notes. So the root note, as it's called, determines the meaning of the rest of the notes." "So the first note decides what the rest of the notes sound like?" "Well, no, not the first note. I mean, it's sort of biased towards the first note, but it's whatever note sounds the most 'resolved', I think." I continue, "Due to how waves interact, certain groupings of notes resonate better than others. It's something about the overtone series, but I haven't studied that yet. But given a palette of notes, certain combinations will naturally want to sink to the bottom, and if you if you're trying to create an unstable configuration, you have to take care to not let the whole thing flip over." "Could you make it flip over on purpose?" "Huh, yeah that might a cool effect. Sort of like an internal struggle that shifts in meaning without anything really changing." "Do you know how to do that?" "As of yet, no. I don't know which combinations are more or less stable." "Well that would be something to work on," she says. "Do you need to know right now? or could you say, just try it, see what sounds 'resolved', and work from there?" "I guess I could just brute force it for now," I relent. "So then you just find that note and start there, right?" "Kinda. The root feels like it marks the beginning and end of a phrase, but you could also just not do that." "Why would you not?" "For effect, basically. For an ending that remains unresolved or a beginning that starts 'in medias res'. I think I'm using that phrase correctly." "That sounds like you have a pretty good grasp on things," she says, "what are unsure of?" "How to start, and when to use what. That's not phrased well. Um, I don't know whether I should start writing a phrase 'resolved' or not. And I don't know what would be appropriate for the circumstances." "Okay, well if you wanted a story to start in the middle, you'd just write from the beginning and chop the front off afterwards, right?" "Maybe? I wouldn't really know that either. You definitely could. And I presume you'd have to have at least a vague outline of things to work from." "So there you go, start from the beginning and maybe change it later." she says. "Would that work for you?" "It should. It's a start at least." I reply. "Something doesn't feel quite right about it but maybe I just don't have enough experience yet." "You're not gonna get experience unless you start somewhere." "Yeah. I'll go with that for now."

She continues, "And what are the circumstances?" "I don't know," I say, at a loss. "Well there's your problem," she says. "Okay, so what kind of circumstances might there be?" "Gosh, that's basically just asking 'what are songs for?'" "What are songs for then?" "Ugh, lots of things; passing the time, coordinating work, a group activity, filling out an experience, passive entertainment, artistic expression or exploration, learning exercises. I'm sure there's more. And of course, they're not necessarily for only one thing." "So which of those are you interested in?" "Passing the time and expression. I'm bored, but also.. something else." "Explain, love." "I don't know how to phrase this. And I really don't know what's happening. It's like there's something stuck that I need to get out. Sometimes when I listen to music I feel like a little bit of it gets out. But it's not quite right, it's not enough, like it's just taunting me. I guess I want to ffeel? But every time I try to connect to something I get that voice screaming at me 'fucking kill yourself you little shit.'" "Aw. Is this blaming yourself for things you didn't understand?" "No, it's not just that. There's also times people just told me I was bad, essentially. And there were times when I was taken in by others' ideas. Like, one time I tried to just pay someone to explain a concept to me. When he didn't get it and I tried to clarify, he said it was abusive. And, there was that whole 'atheism as a movement' thing. Aside, I feel bad about trying to explain myself or anything that could be construed as defending my behavior. But, people could have saved me from that too. There was one exchange, I was arguing on 4chan about it I think. Someone talking about philosophy told me something I said was a non sequitur, but wouldn't explain it. I tried provoking him, saying philosophy was bullshit. And it worked. He told me why I was wrong, it made sense, I learned something. Or un-learned, I guess. I thanked him and apologized and I think he called me a piece of shit. But, ya' know, I wasn't just lost. I didn't have to be. She could have saved me. hypothetically." "Well, for the first one it sounds like others are misunderstanding you and blaming you for it." "Maybe it was the way I was doing it that was abusive?" "Were you trying to make them feel bad?" "No." "Then they must have misunderstood." "But what if they felt bad anyway, why would my intent matter?" "Because that's not fair." She clings to me more tightly. "Mistakes don't make you who you are. And certainly not when you didn't know any better." "I should've known better though, right? and I'm a failure for not figuring it out." "You're only you. You can't be anyone else." Cold washes over me. "I'm not good enough." "You're good enough for me," she says, "even if you don't believe it yet." "That sounds like you're presuming that I am going to believe it." "You will." She kisses my cheek again. I manage not to flinch this time. "I appreciate you being here. You make me feel warm." "I appreciate warming you." she says. "And um, what about the other thing? Being misled, probably a good way to phrase it." "Just another mistake, love." I let myself sink into her arms. "Sorry. I'm supposed to be talking about music or something, right?" "You don't have to be doing anything," she says, "do whatever you want." "How can I know you mean that? That's one of the things people never mean, they're always lying when they say it." "Hm, how about I order you to tell me what you want, and then I order you to do it?" "Hah, sure, we could try that." "Tell me what it is you want to do, love." "I want to keep sitting here while you hold me. I want get rid of all this shit holding me back. I want to be free to feel things without feeling bad about it. And I want to express those feelings, I guess." "Well, not all of that is actionable," "Sorry." "..but, stay here with me, tell me about any bad feelings you start having, and we're going to talk about expressing things." "Alright."

"So why music?" she asks. "There's lots of ways you could express yourself." "I guess because it's just what's the most familiar to me. And that it's what's resonated with me the most. That could just be chance. Like, music is always around in some form or another. And reading a book or something takes more work. It could just be that I've been exposed to more music, and thus happened to find works that speak to me more. And I just haven't had that with other mediums. I used to read a lot when I was small. But I never found anything that like, I dunno how to phase it, made me feel things down in mah soul. Except for those one or two books she lent me. Maybe I was just reading the wrong things. But to be fair, it's really hard to find good authors. And art, I just haven't been exposed to much of it at all. I've tried reading graphic novels a couple times but it seemed like I was getting very little story for how much they cost. Maybe I just don't get it, maybe I just haven't found the right kind of thing, but it sure seems like it just doesn't really speak to me." "Have you ever tried doing anything besides music yourself? It seems like say, haiku, would be easier." "Kind of. I know I don't have the basic skills for drawing, yet. I was working on that for a while, entire pages of trying to make a perfect circle and stuff. Writing seems like it'd be real easy, ya' know, I'm literate. But it seems like the problem is moreso having something to express. And if I try to just pick something, like:

Moonlight shining on the ground dark branches reach into a darkened sky a cold wind surrounds me.

Then I feel like, 'no, those aren't real feelings. and also the way I'm expressing them is wrong. and also that subject isn't good enough to have feelings about.'" "Wait, isn't that not a haiku?" "Maybe? Supposedly saying that the structure is in regard to syllables is a poor translation from the Japanese, though really it doesn't translate to English at all. But also actually the rules don't matter and really the point is to distill an experience." "That makes sense." she says. "So how do you feel about that maybe-haiku?" It takes me a moment to consider. "Good? I think. I dunno, I feel.. feelings." "Feeling feelings is what you wanted isn't it?" "I suppose, yeah." "Then just pick things and make more art for me." "I'll try." I say. "But what about the stuff that's blocked? the things that get drowned out before I even know what the thought was?" "Hm," she thinks for a moment, "is there anything that used to be blocked which isn't anymore?" "I'm not sure." I say. "I don't think there's anything that used to be forbidden that I'm entirely free to think now." "How about even a little bit?" "Yeah I can think of something. I don't wanna get into specifics." "That's alright, love. What changed?" "I had some support, even if just imagined. Someone I could talk to about it who didn't just condemn me. And, who seemed to actually understand." "Was that not enough?" "Ostensibly, no," I say, "but I don't think that's because support is insufficient. I think the problem was that I was never able to form an understanding of the issue. Usually, unable to figure out why what I did was wrong, or at least why someone would think it's wrong." "I know you don't want to get into anything specific, but is there something you wouldn't mind sharing for context?" Yeah I'll try." I say. "One thing, 'harassment'. This incident was not what, I dunno how to phrase this, this is not the incident that caused the bad feelings. But there was one time I was leaving random people weird anonymous asks, just 'cause I thought it was amusing. One of them, I thought it was innocuous, a couple of guys I sent it to didn't seem to mind, but the one girl was pissed about it. I'm guessing it's like: if I just ask you for a dollar, you probably won't feel harassed, but if I'm the hundredth person to ask, you will. But no ever told me tthat. I can't- I can't do any more." "That's alright." she says. "So, you need someone to help you understand things?" "I mean, I wouldn't know, but I think so. And to understand me. And to just believe me." "I can do that." "I- I'm pretty sure I've heard that one before." "What could I do to convince you?" "I don't know." I say. "I guess, why does anyone believe anything? no, just me. Why do I believe anything. Consistency? Things adding up, making sense. And at any point one little thing, one new piece of information, could overturn all of it. And just the idea that someone could accept me doesn't make sense anymore. Everyone I ever trusted abandoned me. I don't think I could really believe in anyone ever again." "But one little thing could overturn that, right?" "Yeah." "So I just need to prove that I'm not going to abandon you?" "Technically, yeah. But that's kind of the opposite of how proof works. You can't just show a thing is true, you can only show that alternatives are false. And the last hypothesis standing wins, tentatively." "So then, we need to go over every little reason you think I might leave you. And when I'm still here, still holding you, then you'll believe in me?" "Yyeah." "Then, love, come to me with every little thing you can manage, and I will prove that I can be your one little thing." "I- don't know what to say to that." "You could say 'yes'." "I'll try."

"So, for now, did you want to get back to music? 'Where to go with it' was next, right?" "Actually, I think I'm okay now. Like, it's all expressing feelings, really. Melody feels a certain way, rhythm feels a certain way. Learning a vocabulary of those things is just going to take study and practice. I jusst needed help with the feelings, I guess." "Then have I adequately fulfilled my role as your muse?" "You have been a lovely muse, darling." "Anytime, love. Let me know if you need any more help." "I will."

- "Hey Mara?" "mhm?" "Why do you bother with me? Why am I worth the trouble?" "Because I steal your life essence while you're sleeping," she hisses in my ear, "more life means more to sssteal." She gently bites my shoulder. "Hey! I'm serious." "I know." She leans her head on mine. "But you'd find that more believable than if I'd just said I liked you, right?" "Yeah." I admit. "What's there to like?" "Well, you're clever, thoughtful, creative, and compassionate," she says, "even if you don't express it very well." She continues, "But, I think to large degree people just click, with no apparent rhyme or reason to it. It's certainly not something you can just do, be more creative or some such. And people like all sorts of things. Really I should be asking you, why do you think there's nothing about you to like?" "Because I fucked everything up. everything in my life. I could never do anything right." "You know that's not your fault." "But it is what I am, right? Maybe my mistakes aren't, but I'm still the person that made them. I'm the one who couldn't figure anything out. I'm the one who got sucked into dogmas and ideologies. I'm the one who was too paralyzed to think anything through." "You know that's not your fault either." "What am I, Mara?" "You are.." she pauses, thinking. "an assortment of processes; wants and needs, likes and dislikes, passions and desires, with a network of logic tying it all together. Which has been born into an environment not suited to it." "Am a good assortment of processes?" "My favorite." she says. I let out a short laugh. After a moment, the cold washes over me again. "I'm so scared. Everything is so hard." "I would change the world for you if I could." she says. "But what I can do, is be here to hold you any time you need to feel warm." We sit in silence for a moment as I cling to her. I gather my courage. "Hhey, ccan I-, may I kiss you thiss time?" She gives me a look. I don't know what it means, it scares me. "..with or without tongue?" "WHAT?" I go blank, she cackles loudly. "That's alright, we'll work up to it. Yes you may." She leans in, waiting. I push through the fear numbing my brain and constricting my body. And I press my lips against hers. A rush of warmth floods over my body. I lose myself in it for a moment. As I pull away, I realize what I just did. The fear overwhelms me. My body goes stiff. My mind goes blank. "It's okay," a soft voice whispers in my ear, calling me back. "It's okay, love. You're okay." When my awareness comes back I find that I'm trembling. Her embrace calms me back down. "I'm- pathetic, right? worthless." "Not to me." she says. "You're just hurt. You may not look like much right now, but I know you have all the potential in the world." She continues, "And even if you never amount to anything, I still want you to be happy." "I don't deserve that." "You don't, and no one does. Life isn't fair. Your well-being is not something you should have to earn. And with what would you earn it, if you didn't have it to begin with? Happiness is a gift. That I want to give it would be reason enough."

0 notes

courseoflove · 3 years

Text

Questions

You have lots of questions for Harry and he tries his best to answer each of them.

a/n: hiiiii, think it’s been almost a year since I last posted my writing and I’m finally back! thanks to @oh-honey-styles‘s new fic slam prompts, I was able to curate something I liked enough to share. usually it’d take me lotssss of drafts to be satisfied and happy with something but this one only took 2! I hope you enjoy it and pleaaaaseee be kind ⭐️😸 I’d love to hear your thoughts!

warning: this is just pureee filth. not really smut, but filthy regardless.

Word Count: 1,775

Harry’s forest eyes ogle straight at you, lips pressed in a tight line and twitching on one side to form a smirk that he tried his very best not to show.

That was definitely the last thing he expected to come out of your mouth. He thought you just needed help with something minuscule, like putting together new furniture, fixing the wifi, or help pick out an outfit; things you’ve urgently called him about before. He never, ever thought you’d call him one day and ask for this, a lesson on blowjobs out of all things.

Luckily, sex has never been a taboo topic between the two of you, considering he’s the first person you yell to when you’re letting out your frustrations about your lack of experiences, or vice versa when he just had an intercourse dilemma that continues to leave an everlasting impact on him. But when you’re asking him about giving good oral pleasure, his brain is suddenly void of any thoughts that should help the situation at hand.

“Quit smirking at me, I’m serious!” Harry flinches when you throw a pillow at him from across the other side of the sofa, instantly wiping the smirk off of his face and instead letting out a soft chuckle when he successfully catches it. You throw him an intense yet jest glare, “just. Today at work. I dunno. I just need to know. I want to know.”

“How d’you suppose I do that?” he asks cautiously, leaning forward to settle his elbows on his knees and prop his chin up with the palm of his hand, “teach you, I mean.”

You’re usually never embarrassed around Harry, despite the many weird and unusual conversations you’ve both had during sobriety and drunkenness. You don’t remember ever feeling even the slightest bit awkward or sheepish when you told him about how IUDs work, or giving him a very vivid description of how exactly you feel during your menstruation cycle. He takes it all in and listens with amusement, sometimes with a bowl of extra-buttered popcorn on his lap.

But right now, in this exact moment, you feel slightly skittish and jittery, as if blowjobs were something you’re just now learning about. He can sense it, especially with the way you’re averting your gaze from his eyes to the silent flatscreen tv nailed on your wall — thanks to him. You’re also doing that thing he constantly scolds you for whenever you’re anxious and nervous, chewing ferociously on your bottom lip and squeezing your fingers into a fist to the point your nails will sink on your palm and pop your veins.

“Stop that, you’ll bleed,” he cuts the silence off, “and answer my question.”

You unclench your fist and turn towards him again, barely making eye contact and instead looking at the lovely framed painting hung on the wall behind him, “maybe just describe it?”

“It’s really not that complicated,” was all Harry said. He leans back against your soft couch, taking both of your feet with his hands and settling them on his lap to crack each of your toes. You flinch a little on his first try, turning your focus and watching his fingers work against your skin, “think of a lollipop. Or popsicles, something of the sorts. You put it in your mouth and just… suck. Lick. Move your mouth, without the teeth.”

Suck. Lick. Move your mouth; the words that tumbles out of his lips causes you to flush, your whole body heating up and turning beet red, the color dancing across your nose and emphasizing your imperfections flawlessly.

What Harry said was pretty accurate. It’s not as detailed as you want but you don’t really know how to ask for that without feeling mortified and even more flustered. He said it exactly how it is; you just put your mouth around it, suction your cheeks, use your tongue and bob your head. But you feel like there was something missing, as if there should be more to that. Well, because there is. You want to know more.

His fingers have started to dance their way to your calf, squeezing the deep tissues there in a tender and leisure massage to try and get rid of your tensed muscles. You’re wincing in between syllables when you finally speak after a couple of seconds, “question. It might be weird. Just… just tell me if you don’t wanna answer.”

His eyes lock with yours when he hums for you to continue, a strand of curl falling over his forehead and tickling his brow while his bottom lip gets caught in between his teeth in concentration. He presses his warm hands on your leg forcefully and harder and it helps calm your nerves and neurons, your habit of overthinking in situations like this disappearing little by little the more he moves. The lack of poise you had minutes ago is lessening and your question is on the tip of your tongue, ready to burst at the seams and be voiced aloud.

With your face turning a lot redder and goosebumps developing on your skin from head to toe out of the blue, you ask with your voice a little lower than it was a while ago, “will you tell me what you like? When.. you know.”

Harry’s movements quickly halt. Another unexpected turn. Another question he never, ever thought would come out of your mouth to ask him.

He lets go of his lip and keeps his mouth agape, irises instantaneously dilating and darkening under your lemon-yellow light and turning them into an even darker shade, like a week old leaf. His brain performs a short circuit for a few moments that passes by in silence before he finally swallows and says, “you want to know what I like when I’m getting head?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, feeling even more ridiculous the more you look into his eyes and open your mouth, “I mean, you have the most experience out of the two of us. That’s why I asked in the first place, but I feel — I feel like your first answer doesn’t really — it’s just not satisfying me. There has to be more to it than just.. sucking, I dunno.”

Sure, you talk to one another about sex casually; what one undergos and encounters and what the other simply has no preconceived notions of. Harry would tell his stories in the least disgusting way possible, knowing you’ll groan out loud and tease him about it if he gives away any sort of detail, but there was almost always zero utterance on your end. No lingering and continuous curiosity. You asking about what he likes when he’s getting head is very much unforeseen and maybe even a bit… amiss, especially for you.

However, he can detect a genuine inquisitiveness in your expression. You’re probably one of the hardest people to read on the surface, but he senses that there was more to that interest than just simply wanting to know. At least, he’s hoping there is.

You cross your arms over your chest, feeling a bit weird now the more he gawks at you and doesn’t make a single move to respond. You open your mouth to backtrack when his hesitancy becomes clear, but before you can even take your question back, he’s already mouthing a three-syllable word out loud, “mouth-fucking.”

A low gasp leaves your mouth and the sound doesn’t miss Harry’s eardrums. He should want to take it back, shove the words back in his throat and never say it again despite not being able to. Still and all, he realizes that he likes what you asked and the fact he gave you an answer, a brief one but an honest and precise answer nonetheless. The way your skin warms against the palm of his hands makes him start to sweat, your bare face becoming even more flushed if possible. You don’t really know what kind of answer your mind presumed, but it obviously wasn’t that.

You’re aware of Harry’s self-confidence and boldness when it comes to sex. He has lots of it and it doesn’t come as a surprise. So when he opens his mouth again to explain exactly what he meant, you were able to hold your second gasp back and instead listen in. You can just imagine how filthy he is in bed, considering the description he gives you seems to be even more graphic and explicit, “like normal sex, but I’m doing it to their mouth. I like the sound, the sloppiness of it all, it fuels me. I like being in control, I guess, and no one wants a dry blowjob. I like it really wet.”

You startle both yourself and him when you utter, “what else?”

Harry clears his throat and looks away from your eyes, not because of discomfort because there was absolutely none, but for the reason that the more he stares the more he pictures you inside his head doing exactly what he was evoking. He blinks a couple of times in an attempt to get rid of the colorful conception, yet it just becomes even more lucid and clear-cut. He tries to distract himself by continuing to answer your questions. It definitely doesn’t help. It just drags the mental image on.

“I like it when they let me come down their throat, then swallow it. Or when — when the aftermath of pure bliss just overtakes my entire body. Like, they just pull away for a second then suck me right back in,” the skin on your legs feel sticky under his hold. You swallow at his dazed appearance and tiny smirk, as if he’s picturing it all in his head. And he is, “yeah. I like that a lot.”

Somehow it’s gotten a lot warmer inside the tiny space of your living room, every corner closing in on the two of you in your peripheral vision and you can’t exactly make out the tingling sensation on the tip of your fingers and in between your thighs. Well, you do. You know you’re undoubtedly turned on but acting clueless and ignoring it would be the best way to handle it.

You ask him one more question, the last one you’ll emit for the rest of the evening, “and how was it for them?”

Harry turns his head, connecting his darkened eyes with yours. There’s an indecipherable message written all over his handsome face. His voice is heavy, raspier and deeper with his accent when he answers for the last time, a specific implication behind his tone, “one of these days, you’ll see.”

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

insidious

Hinata Shoyo x female reader (+ Miya Atsumu x female reader)

tw dub-con/non-con, yandere, voyeurism, nsfw, smut but like just a sprinkle

Atsumu’s never considered himself much of a relationship guru, but surely he can’t be the only one who notices there’s something real fuckin’ weird about your relationship with Hinata.

Admittedly, the first few times he met you, he wasn’t paying all that much attention. Sure, you were hot, and he’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t snuck a peek every now and then; but his focus has always been on the game, on his teammates. On himself as a setter. It’s why he’s got a strict no girlfriends policy during the season. Atsumu doesn’t do distractions.

And he likes Hinata. On the court, the little dude’s a monster for him to unleash and he’d love him for that alone, but somehow despite being a 5’7” excitable ball of crazy intensity off the court as well, the redhead’s impossible not to get along with.

There’s a few guys on the team that have partners – fuck, Meian’s even married, his wife five months pregnant with their second kid. But it doesn’t hit him until maybe three or so weeks after Hinata joins the team that he’s never seen any of them (or the ones that came before them) show up at every single training session.

You do.

Rain, hail or shine, no matter how early Hinata starts or how late he stays, you’re there, sitting in the stands, just… watching. It’s not a bad thing exactly. He knows Bo thinks it’s cute, gets all moony eyed and sappy about it and Hinata certainly doesn’t seem bothered by it, beaming up at you after every point scored, every successful spike, every receive.

But it’s just– they train six days a week. It’s long hours and a lot of it’s just drills and exercising till they’re dead on the floor, and even hardcore volleyball fans would find it boring to sit through day in and day out. You don’t take a book or sit there on your phone; you just watch idly as they train.

Day in, day out.

There ain’t a rule against it; their practices are closed to the public but the team have a few passes they can hand around on the odd occasion. It’s more of an unspoken understanding; you can invite who you want, so long as you’re focused and they don’t make a fuss.

You never do though, quiet as a mouse as you wait for Hinata to finish up.

“Don’tcha think it’s weird though?” he asks Sakusa one afternoon, wiping the sweat from his brow as he watches Hinata slump down beside you after practice wraps up, pulling you into a nuzzling embrace.

Sakusa makes a noncommittal noise, but dark eyes regard the two of you nonetheless. “She moved with him from Brazil, didn’t she?”

Atsumu shrugs, “And?”

“She doesn’t have any friends or family here, no roots, no job, just Hinata,” he says – slowly, like Atsumu’s an idiot.

And he tries to put himself in your shoes for a minute, imagine what it would be like to follow someone halfway across the world (further actually, because he’s pretty sure you weren’t from Brazil to begin with) but it’s not the same. Even without Samu, or his friends or his family, even in a country with weird customs and a language that wasn’t his own, Atsumu’s always been good at finding his feet.

But he supposes he can understand why you cling to Hinata. Though it’s really more a case of Hinata clinging to you, ‘cause whenever he turns around, it’s the redhead who’s the one all over you, pulling you into cuddles, twining his fingers with yours, peppering your face with butterfly kisses. Like he’ll just die if he’s not touching you every second you’re together.

It’s either sickeningly cute or revoltingly excessive, and for the life of him Atsumu can’t figure out which.

You’d think it’s his first relationship or something, that he’s stuck in some weird puppy love honeymoon phase, but from what he’s heard the two of you have been together for years now – that’s just the way Hinata is, apparently.

He shouldn’t be too surprised; the guy’s always first in line to jump on his back or try and tackle him to the floor after any successful play. Between him and Bokuto, he’s got more bruises littered over his body than a linebacker, but they’re a tactile team, and he usually gives as good as he gets.

You’re not one for excessive PDA though. You never fight against the overbearing affection, don’t shrug it off or shrink away – at least, not from what he’s noticed – but Atsumu hasn’t seen you initiate anything more than a quick peck to his cheek when Hinata’s got you all bundled up in his arms.

And he gets that not every relationship has to be equal in that sense, different love languages and all that crap, but while you don’t fight it, you never seem… entirely comfortable with it either. Not in the ‘stop, we’re in public, please don’t’ kinda way, but–

He can’t put a finger on it.

You smile at Hinata, cheer when he scores, let him pet and kiss and pull you around wherever he wants, but you never seem to relax properly, and it bothers him. He doesn’t know why it bothers him.

If he hadn’t met you, hadn’t known that you’d been with Hinata since he was dirt poor and moonlighting as a delivery boy in Brazil, he’d be tempted to think that you were only in it for the money. It’s not a bad plan, as far as these things go – find some up and coming athlete to place all your bets on, get him wrapped around your finger before success goes to his head. And he doesn’t know you all that well and has absolutely zero fucking justification to back it up, but you don’t strike him as the money hungry type.

You don’t strike him as anything, and maybe that’s part of the issue.

Hinata’s like a sun; he’s gonna eclipse anyone standing too close. That’s normal. The team; him and Sakusa, Bokuto, the others – they have their own talents to stand on, to push through and shine on their own, but you…

Fuck, why does it even matter?

Why does it bother him? It ain’t his relationship. You never complain, you make Hinata happy – he’d have to be blind not to see how much that guy loves you – and he dotes on you, spoils the shit out of you, so why can’t he shake this feeling in his gut that something ain’t right there?

It ain’t his relationship, and Atsumu’s not stupid enough to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.

It ain’t his relationship.

It’s not, and he has more important things to focus his time and energy on.

You aren’t his problem. Fuck, you’ve barely spoken more than a few sentences to him! There’s no reason for why he can’t get you and your stupid relationship with his wing spiker outta his mind.

“Just admit ya wanna fuck her and stop bitchin’ about it,” Samu groans one night when Atsumu stops by the restaurant after training. “Yer looking for a problem between the two of them so ya don’t feel guilty about it.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Shut yer trap, wouldja, Samu? I said it ain’t like that!”

He’s not gonna stand there and deny that he thinks you’re hot, but that’s not what this is about. Never has been.

It’s quiet between them for a moment, Atsumu angrily stabbing at the onigiri on his plate, but he feels it when Osamu looks at him. Really looks, dark eyes flickering across his face, reading him like an open book. Samu might enjoy giving him shit and winding him up just for the sake of it, but there’s nobody on earth who knows him better.

Eventually he sighs, and the air feels different between them. Heavier, somehow. “What’re ya saying, Tsumu? Ya think Hinata’s hurting her or somethin’?”

Yes.

No.

He knows Hinata. Well, for a few months at least, but peripherally for years. Ever since high school. And Atsumu’s had the displeasure of knowing guys like that, guys who liked to feel big and tough and strong and would gladly slap around some pretty thing just to feel all manly and shit, and Hinata’s not–

He doesn’t treat you like you’re made of glass or anything, but every time he touches you, so much as looks at you with those bright eyes, it’s with this kind of intense, burning love that Atsumu just doesn’t understand, that honestly freaks him out a little. He’s never seen bruises littering your skin – at least, not the kind that Samu’s worried about. You don’t flinch away from Hinata’s touch.

(You never look comfortable though. Never happy – not like Hinata is.)

No. He’s a good guy, he wouldn’t hurt a fly, and despite the lingering unease Atsumu has about the two of you, he doesn’t doubt for a second that Hinata is head over fucking heels in love with you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

He wouldn’t.

“No, ‘course not! I just…” he breaks off, shaking his head. And he chews on his lip for a moment, debating with himself whether he should actually admit what he’s been thinking the past few weeks or whether Samu’s just gonna call him a pussy or something and tell him to knock it off. “I get the feeling she doesn’t wanna be there. She’s smiling and sitting there all pretty, but it’s just… I dunno, it’s just weird.”

Osamu doesn’t say much after that, but he doesn’t really need to. He knows what his brother’s thinking. If you weren’t happy, you’d leave. If Hinata wasn’t treating you right, you’d leave. You’d tell someone. But it ain’t that simple, is it?

Atsumu’s always had a problem sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.

The first game of the season’s a slam dunk, and while they’re usually pretty tame during the season, beating Kageyama and Ushijima, last year's undefeated champs is cause for celebration. He’s not surprised to see you there at the club, tucked under Hinata’s arm in some little black dress, all dolled up. You smile at him, a hollow, fleeting thing, and Atsumu hates how the sight of it makes his stomach clench.

Sakusa, Bokuto and Inunaki arrive moments later, a drink’s shoved into his hands and he forces himself to think of other things. You aren’t his problem, you aren’t his girl, and he’s definitely not watching you dance, your back flush with Hinata’s front, the wing spiker’s hands splayed across your hips, his mouth trailing greedily along your neck.

And for the first time since this whole stupid thing started, Atsumu recognises the ugly feeling stirring in the pit of his gut. It’s jealousy.

He’s played one of the best games of his life today, his team’s fucking amazing, the music’s good and the alcohol is free flowing – he should be happy. And there’s absolutely no reason he should be watching you out of the corner of his eye, waiting for an opening.

It shouldn’t make his heart skip a beat when Hinata leans down to whisper something in your ear, passing you his glass as he heads off to find the men’s. He’s midway through a conversation of his own with Adriah and Bokuto that he’s barely paying attention to, and there’s a voice in his head (one that sounds suspiciously like Samu’s) that tells him to just let it go, but his feet are already moving, a half hearted excuse spilling from his lips as he slips past them both to make his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is too quiet, too breathless to carry across over the music, but he’s taller than you, taking up your space and he isn’t imagining the way that your eyes widen, a flicker of something passing your face before you school your features back into that same fake, pleasant smile.

He doesn’t imagine the nervous look you dart over his shoulder in the direction Hinata walked off in.

You take a delicate sip from your glass, the very same one you’ve been nursing since you arrived and he watches – watches – as you force yourself to relax, the tension easing from your shoulders, your posture softening. “Miya,” you greet, raising your voice just enough to be heard. “Congratulations on the win.”

It’s so polite, so fucking fake that it makes him wanna hurl.

“Atsumu,” he corrects before he can help himself. Sakusa calls him Miya, but nobody else – nobody who knows him – does. He can’t bear the sound of it on your lips, like you’re nothing more than strangers.

He’s talked to you before, right? Surely.

You’re just standing there, perfectly at ease around him and the others – if not for the finger tapping anxiously against the stem of your glass, a tic he wonders if you’re even aware of. You might be able to fool the others – admittedly, they’re probably not paying you too much attention – but he’s used to picking up on the smallest details.

And he’s become real good at reading you these past few weeks.

“So tell me, how’d the two of ya meet?” he asks instead, because he’s rushed in here with no game plan and it’s the first thing that comes to mind. He doesn’t even care about the answer; now that he’s finally here, finally has you to himself for a moment, he just wants to hear you talk.

“Oh, um,” you swallow, ducking your head so you’re not meeting his gaze anymore. “It’s a little embarrassing–”

A familiar, bright laugh cuts you off, and Atsumu’s heart hammers when Hinata slaps him on the shoulder, “It’s not embarrassing, babe, it’s cute!”

Deep brown eyes meet his; wide, glittering and freakishly intense and he fights the urge to recoil. He’s done nothing wrong, he knows that, but Hinata’s staring at him like every thought he’s ever had about you is written right across his face, plain as day.

And you – you look like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, like Hinata’s stumbled on you shoving your tongue down his throat rather than just having an innocent, friendly conversation with his teammate. It’s a split second that stretches a lifetime, but when he dares to look over, you’re rigid, eyes wide and full of panic and he knows, he fucking knows that he’s right.

“Tell him,” Hinata urges, wasting no time in slipping past Atsumu to take his place by your side.

His arm wraps around your waist, squeezing you gently, and after a single, tense beat, you comply. “O-on the first week of my trip to Brazil, I was mugged. Shoyo saw it all happen and chased after them – got my purse back for me, even walked me back home to make sure I was okay, patched me up and everything.” You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you gaze up at Hinata, “He was my knight in shining armour.”

Hinata preens as you smile, but it’s still wrong. Atsumu’s seen what hero worship looks like, what real love looks like, and he’ll hand it to you; you have the basics down pat, but you can’t fake everything.

With bitterness and disgust eating away at his gut, it becomes suffocating, standing there trying to carry a conversation and pretending that whatever there is between the two of you is in any way fucking romantic–

It’s too much, like somebody has a grip on his lungs, viciously squeezing out the last of his breath, and he barely remembers to excuse himself before he’s shoving his way through the crowd, knocking Meian’s concerned hand away as he flees for the balcony.

The late summer night air’s warm and humid, but he gulps it down in big, gasping heaves, clinging to the rail like it’s a lifeline.

You’re fucking with his head and he hates it. He hates that he can’t let this go, can’t get you out of his goddamn head no matter how hard he tries. Atsumu’s always been a selfish, arrogant bastard, why should he give two shits about some girl whose last name he doesn’t even know?

He wants to despise you. He wants to forget you, to shove you aside like he has every other distraction in his life. It’s not his problem you’ve found yourself in some fucked up relationship.

But he squeezes his eyes shut, and all Atsumu can see is your face.

He stays out on that balcony until his body stops shaking, until the sweat on his forehead cools and he no longer feels like he’s gonna throw up. The beat of the music, spilling muted from the glass doors, wraps around him now that the pounding in his head’s subsided, tempting him back inside. Any other night, and he’d follow it, get absolutely shitfaced and party till he doesn’t remember his own name.

And as he stands there alone, staring up at the Tokyo city skyline, part of him almost wants to give in – to drink himself to oblivion. Because at least that’d be easier.

But he won’t.

Instead, Atsumu shoves his feelings down, musters up a lazy smirk and walks back inside. He has every intention of saying goodbye to at least a few of his teammates before heading back to the hotel room to crash, but as his eyes scan the crowded floor, he catches sight of something that stops him cold in his tracks.

Hinata has you pinned to the wall, his face buried in the crook of your neck, but that’s not what makes his heart skip a beat. It’s the way your dress is hiked up, your panties shoved to the side, Hinata’s hand between your thighs, fucking you on his fingers.

It’s the look on your face, screwed up in pleasure – or pain – biting down on your lip to stifle your cries. It wouldn’t make a difference. Nobody would be able to hear you over the music, and even if they could he doubts anyone would give a fuck.

His mouth dries out, every thought eddying from his head as he watches you cling to Hinata, your hands gripping his arms tight. Your makeup’s smudged, a tear spilling down your cheek catches the glittering lights of the club, but when your head tilts back he knows it’s a moan that leaves your lips. He can almost hear it, picture it in his mind. You’re shuddering, shaking your head even as your eyes are squeezed shut and the only sound Atsumu can hear is the restless thumping of his own heart.

And then your eyes flutter open and find his. He watches, frozen in place, transfixed in the worst possible way as mortification flashes across your features and your lips move–

Whatever you say to him, Hinata doesn’t stop. He just shifts a little, angles his body in a way that gives Atsumu a better view of your pussy and the attention he’s paying it. He can’t look away even if he desperately wants to, utterly enthralled by the slickness coating the digits, the way your thighs tremble and quake as those fingers curl inside of you, the little jolt you give when Hinata’s thumb rubs at your puffy clit.

Atsumu watches, equal parts horrified and mesmerised as he pushes you over the edge and you cum for him, a pleasured cry drowned out by the music, shaking and breathless and beautifully wrecked in his teammate’s arms. And as you all but collapse against him, Hinata finally turns to glance over his shoulder, meeting Atsumu’s stare.

And with his eyes fixed on the blonde, he whispers something into your ear that Atsumu doesn’t have a hope in hell of hearing, presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek and grins.

It’s enough to rip him out of his stupor, stumbling back with a gasp as his blood runs cold. Hinata knew, he knew he was watching – put on a fucking show for him, and suddenly the nausea returns, bile creeping up his throat and Atsumu can’t do a single thing but turn and flee.

Alone in his hotel room and not nearly drunk enough, he falls into a fitful sleep, the image of your face, tear stricken and beautiful as you fell to pieces on Hinata’s fingers, burned into the back of his eyelids.

—

He doesn’t utter a word about it when Boktuo gives him shit for ducking out early the next day at training. He doesn’t so much as meet Hinata’s eye, though the redhead seems no different than usual, all but bouncing on his heels when the Coach runs through the game against the Adlers set by set.

He still gushes when Atsumu gives him a perfect set, beaming up at him with that thousand watt smile. He still offers to be paired off with him when they run two-on-two games, isn’t ruffled when Atsumu instead grabs Sakusa and goes up against Adriah and Barnes.

And you’re still sitting in the stands, fingers twined on your lap, smiling dutifully whenever your boyfriend glances up.

Atsumu tries his best to ignore you and focus on training. He can’t afford to let you distract him any more than you already have, but in the quiet moments between sets, on their breaks, every second he’s not thinking about the game and his performance and his team his thoughts drift back to you. The way you’d bitten down on your bottom lip. Your eyes, pupils blown wide as pleasure crashed through you. Your glistening cunt, swallowing up Hinata’s fingers. The cute little noises you made – the ones he couldn’t hear but spent all fucking night imagining.

And the moment those thoughts enter his head, he can’t stop himself from darting a quick glance towards you, like he’s making sure you’re still there, that you’re okay. Even if you stiffen almost imperceptibly every time he does.

He can’t help himself, and he’s not the only one who notices.

“Dude, you good?” Bokuto asks, pulling him aside a week or so later during one of their water breaks. And for a second there, there’s a flicker of indignation – whatever’s going on with his head, his performance is beyond question; he’s killing it.

It’s not until the wing spiker’s attention shifts, risking a glance over his shoulder to where he knows you’re sitting that he realises that’s not what Bokkun’s worried about.

“Look, I get it, she’s cute and all, but…” Bokuto trails off, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. Every ounce of discomfort is written clear as day across his face. “You might wanna tone it down a bit, you know? For everyone’s sake.”

The irony of it all doesn’t escape him. And he probably should feel some kinda shame, because if Bokuto’s noticed then that means every goddamn one of the others has too and they’re all just too uncomfortable to say anything, but he can’t seem to muster it.

“Yeah,” he croaks out instead.

Two days later he’s halfway through a shower when the stall beside his bursts open and he hears that familiar, sunny laugh, the sound of two bodies clambering into a space too small, and his heart stutters in his chest.

“Sho, no. I-I don’t wanna–”

“Shh, be good for me, alright baby? Please?”

A drawn out hiss followed by a breathy moan, and Atsumu’s bracing himself against the tiled wall squeezing his eyes shut.

The spray of the shower isn’t loud enough to drown out the sounds of you swallowing down Hinata’s cock. And he can’t move, can’t make a sound for fear of making this worse, but with every lewd, messy gluck from your throat, every obnoxious moan that spills from his teammate’s lips, Atsumu feels that telltale stirring in his gut.

His eyes are closed and the image comes unbidden to his mind.

You on your knees, looking up at him with those big, wide innocent eyes. You, pressing soft, teasing kisses to his cock, your tongue slowly trailing along the thick vein that runs along the underside of his shaft. The way it’d swirl around his flushed head, eagerly lapping at his precum. Fuck, his cock’s already throbbing, aching.

He’s only human, he thinks as he wraps a hand around his member, teeth sinking into the flesh of his forearm to stifle his groan. You’re making a mess of him, he wants it so fucking bad. Wants you; to fuck you, have you, hold you, he doesn’t give a shit anymore, you’re driving him to the brink and he’s helpless to stop this.

He can see it so perfectly in his head, how you’d look with those soft lips wrapped around him, the way you’d massage his balls as he fucked your face, how you’d choke on it. You’d be good, so fucking perfect as you sucked him off–

Hinata’s chanting your name and Atsumu picks up his pace, strokes turning into pumps, his fist tightening as he hisses with pleasure. Distantly he wonders whether they can hear it too; his heavy breathing, the slick, wet sound of him jerking off less than a foot away.

He doesn’t care anymore, can’t hold himself back. It’s blinding, the pleasure that rips through him, shaking him to his very core as spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum paints the shower walls.

His knees buckle, his cock still twitching as aftershocks jolt through him, stealing his breath. For a blissful moment, Atsumu lets himself sag against the tiles, a lazy smirk coating his face as he basks in the afterglow, his heartbeat slowly coming down from it’s racing high.

And yet as the warm water of the shower cascades down his toned body, his breathing returning to normal something unpleasant begins to unfurl in his stomach, toxic and cloying, seeping through his veins. All that bliss, that heady, addictive pleasure fades away and Atsumu’s left with the weight of what he’s just done.

Distantly, he registers that it’s quieter now in the stall next to his. Hinata’s murmuring something to you, but Atsumu can’t make sense of it over the dull roar in his head, the disgust and shame that coils like a noose around his throat.

He should hate himself.

He just might, actually.

And it’s not enough to scrub until his skin’s raw and he doesn’t feel it crawling anymore, doesn’t matter that he stays in the shower until the two of you leave, until the water runs ice cold and it physically hurts to stand under the spray.

Hinata’s still in the locker room when he gets out, slowly gathering the last of his things and shoving them into his duffle bag. For once you’re not by his side, and Atsumu can only thank whatever godly beings might be out there for this one, tiny mercy, because he doesn’t think he can bear to see you after what he’s just done.

But Hinata just smiles, bright and cheerful and all too knowing, “Seeya tomorrow, Atsumu!”

And he feels filthy all over again.

#dark haikyuu #dark hinata x reader #dark hinata shoyo x reader #dark atsumu x reader #dark atsumu miya x reader #tw non con #tw dub con #tw voyeurism #tw yandere #trying out some new tags #don't mind me

884 notes · View notes

script-nef · 3 years

Text

So why won’t you realise it '^' | Gojou Satoru

Category: fluff

1.9k words; Movie date [2/6]

Spoilers of Howl’s Moving Castle!! Beware!!

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“Eh, Shouko! What do you mean you can’t make it?”

“I mean, another person is about to come in and they need me to heal them. By the time I’m done the movie will be finished.” Shouko’s voice over the phone is laced with annoyance and sadness coupled with lethargy. You don’t know how she pulls off such a unique combination of emotions but she somehow accomplishes it every time. “And I was looking forward to it…”

This would have been the first time you had a break with her since the trip to France. And while she enjoyed it a lot, the same couldn’t be said for the two males. Which was weird since Gojou is infatuated with sweets and Ken-chan agreed to come. So it was kind of weird when there was a tense atmosphere between them. You know your brother and Gojou are nearly polar opposites, but their animosity wasn’t usually that strong.

They brushed it off as nothing when you asked if something was wrong, which was sort of dubious since you could kind of see the black cloud looming over the both of them, but you let it go. If it was something important, they would be able to handle it themselves or report it to you. You couldn’t sense any cursed spirits nearby so you guessed that they were just in a bad mood for some reason.

Still, you had a wonderful time and found some new snacks that everyone enjoyed. So a day well spent, all in all.

And Ken-chan told you to tell him if Gojou ever offers overseas trips or anything similar, so he must have enjoyed it. Maybe you can ask Gojou to take all of you to Denmark one day.

“Ah… my dear Howl. Life and curses separate us again.” Her voice is full of sadness now, no doubt mourning over her chance of watching her favourite character on a huge screen with surround sound disappearing.

“It’s okay! I’ll bring you the figurine and we can watch it again here in about… uh…”

“Ten years?” She sounds like she’s about to drop dead.

“Uh… yes… But maybe five years? Hopefully? You know, I shouldn’t watch it without you. I’ll come back to school.”

“No, no. Watch the movie. At least you’ll get to see it. Ah, they’re coming now so I have to go.”

“Ah, okay. Bye, Shouko! Stay positive!”

A non-committal sigh accompanies a small “Bye” before the call clicks off. A frown takes over your face at the lost opportunity for her. She was looking forward to this for a long time and you leapt at the chance for another girls’ day out. Being able to watch a childhood favourite is an added bonus. But now you’re standing in the movie theatre, the ticket desk just across the room and an extra on your hand.

It’s a shame because it cost quite a lot. Shouko is definitely going to mope about this when you get back and maybe start smoking again. She always has a pack on her even if she said she quit, and smokes one if she’s stressed or angry. You should call someone and make sure somebody takes it away from her.

You should probably hold onto the ticket and give it back. Or maybe that would make it worse for her, serving as a reminder of this day. Conflict rages inside your head. There’s a high possibility of either decision breaking her heart. Again. A buzz from your phone saves you the trouble of deciding.

Shouko: I sent someone as my replacement.

A tap on the shoulder makes you turn as you type in a reply and you come face to face with a black jacket. Gojou’s head pops down.

“Hey there. I think you called for a replacement!” He seems to be in a ridiculously good mood, even more so than usual. Maybe his students successfully finished another mission. Which is great. It also means more paperwork for you. Which is not so great.

“How did you com—ah. Teleportation.”

“Ding ding ding! Correct!” He's been using the skill more frequently lately, popping in and out of places like one of those Whac-A-Mole games. . It gives you heart attacks all the time and you’re sure he gets a kick out of it. You saw how his smiles widen when you flinch or react. Thankfully it’s when you’re alone so other people never see you jump what feels like a metre into the air.

“Do you want popcorn?” He breaks you out of your thoughts. “I think they have the new caramel flavour. Apparently it’s way too sweet.” So perfect for Gojou. Even though he’s asking if you want it, there’s a spring in his step which definitely means he’s getting some. Probably the biggest option they have.

And you’re proven right because he comes back with two huge buckets which look impossible to finish. When you try to object, he cuts off with “I’ve eaten three buckets before. Alone.” With the smile he’s giving you, it really doesn’t sound like he’s joking. You try to take one to lighten the load but he says it’s alright.

He signals the way to the theatre rooms with his head, walking beside you as you find your way.

“So what’s the movie?” Your head snaps to him in confusion.

“You don’t know?” A shake and a shrug. “It’s Howl’s Moving Castle. This was Shouko’s idea since she loves it and this year is Studio Ghibli’s 40 year anniversary. The cinema is having an exclusive showing of their movies this month. Only one session per movie, for some reason. Surely they would make more money if they played it over multiple days, but. I dunno. Executives make weird decisions.” A light scoff from him to tell he knows exactly what that’s like. His hatred for the higher-ups runs deep. You don’t push it.

“So she wanted to come but got held back at the last minute?”

“Yeah. Ah, here are our seats.”

You’re placed in the very middle of the room and you both make yourselves comfortable. Shouko went all out for this movie, upgrading the seats and making it a recliner. Your poor back, abused after sitting in chairs and hunched over computers for so long, practically melts into the plush cushion. It’s so comfortable that you might fall asleep in it if it isn’t Howl that’s about to start.

Feet dangling in the air, you look over to Gojou to see him on his phone. It looks like he’s in a chatroom and you catch the words ‘Shouko’ and ‘favour’ before looking away. You didn’t mean to peek, but it’s not like you can consciously not read something. It was in your line of sight and you averted your eyes as soon as you realised what you were reading. Your brother brought you up better than to pry into other people’s businesses, even if it’s really, really tempting.

“Phones need to be placed on silent, you know.” The ads are coming on the screen. He smiles at you, slipping it into his pocket.

“Just talking to Shouko. She says she hasn’t even started properly.”

Disappointment fills you. Gojou is a good friend to watch this with but you hoped Shouko would somehow miraculously finish in time. She would be devastated.

“I’ll have to make this up to her when we get back. Give her the figurine and keep her hap—ah! I forgot! Gojou, I was supposed to ask someone to take her ciga—” He cuts you off with a light pat on your hand.

“Don’t worry, I did it already. All of them are safe out of her reach and I gave her packets of hot chocolate instead. When we get back, she’ll have drunk at least half of them and be in a good mood.” What a Gojou-like replacement. He smiles like a child wanting pats on the head for a job well done. You just barely catch yourself from moving.

Gojou gets a rep for being aloof and neglectful, but he does take care of the people he holds dear to him. His friends, members of the school, his students. You hope you’re included in the list.

Actually, the more you think about it, the more you realise he’s different from initial perceptions. You learn more and more about him as time goes on, in the most delightful sense. He’s somewhat like an onion, new characteristics being revealed every time a layer is peeled. A snicker escapes at the thought of Gojou dressed up like an onion, just waddling around. He shoots you a questioning head tilt which you wave off.

In the years that you’ve known him, he made himself into a trustworthy friend. One full of laughs and ridiculousness. Maybe it’s his childishness that puts you at ease, but he’s incredibly comfortable and easy to relax around. Thoughts trail and the words fly out of your mouth before you even think.

“You know, I think you would make a wonderful boyfriend.”

He freezes completely, like somebody’s zapped him in place. You stare at him, wondering what’s wrong, but the lights dim and by the time he gathers coherence, your concentration is on the opening sequence.

“Ah, that was so good! Ugh, I love Howl. Isn’t he so cool?” You skip out of the room, remembering to take the figurines provided at the exit, with Gojou trailing behind you. “You know how she asks him to wait for her in the past? The first thing he says to her in the movie is ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’ He searched for her the entire time! This is modern poetry. This.”

“Do you think Howl would be a good boyfriend?” The question stops you. It’s different than usual for some reason, the voice asking the question and the intensity of it. He’s still his aloof self, all smiles and grins, but there’s something you can’t quite place that’s wrong. It’s unnerving, but you diligently answer his question.

“Um, I mean, yeah? Look at how cute he is with Sophie. See?” The figurine is a frozen shot of Howl and Sophie dancing in the rain with an umbrella that’s not being useful at all. They’re both incredibly detailed, so much so that you can see their clothes and skin drenching wet. Wow, this is actually a phenomenal job. Shouko will be so happy. It makes your heart lighter knowing that at least something might light up her day.

“Why is he cool?” Gojou seems to be invested in Howl. It confuses you since he just watched the movie with you and he saw how awesome Howl is.

“Hm, well for one he can do magic.” He opens his mouth but you shush him with a finger to his lips. “Yeah, I know, what we have is kind of like magic too. But theirs is just… different. He just makes it seem kind of elegant. And he overcame his fear just for Sophie. Remember the scene with Sulliman and in the cluttered bedroom? He still found the strength to protect her even though he was so scared before. It’s admirable. I guess I like strong guys.”

“Hmm~” His tone is contemplative. “You know I’m stronger than him, right?”

A question mark forms over your head. He’s being really weird today. “Yeah? You’re the strongest in the universe, silly. What’s up with you?” Gojou just chuckles and ruffles your head.

“Nothing, nothing. Just making sure you know.” He slings his arm around your shoulder, the intensity gone and the light spring in his step back. “Who else do you think is strong?”

Next chapter →

#gojou x reader #gojou imagine #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru imagine #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojou #gojou satoru #fluff #series #female reader

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suite43 · 3 years

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this was a commissioned peice of writing for @princemai . If you're interested in a commission, dm me!

Adjusting to life after the war was never going to be easy. How do you coexist with the people who've been trying to kill you for millions of years? It didn't take a nihilist to think that the peace wouldn't last.

Bumblebee counted himself pleasantly surprised that, well, something seemed to last. Peace wasn't the right word, but at least it was less "endlessely killing each other" and more "the entire universe hates us and we can't really blame them". But for the most part, these days, things were peaceful.

That didn't mean it was easy.

You wouldn't call it easy to wake up next to the closest thing you'd ever had to an arch-nemisis wrapped around you. You wouldn't quite know what to do with the fact that as much as he hates to admit it, he's afraid of the dark. And you wouldn't blame yourself for waking up sometimes afraid that you'll find a knife at your throat.

It wasn't easy. But it was peaceful, more or less. Because when Starscream kissed him in that way he did almost every morning, gentle and still half-asleep, Bumblebee could nearly forget he'd ever thought of the mech next to him as dangerous, and a part of him would wonder why it hadn't always been like this.

But then they get up, and the day would go on, and even though there's peace now, there's a lot of history, and Bumblebee can't help but feel like they're both just waiting for everything to turn sideways.

Bumblebee wants to trust Starscream. And he does, on some level at least. Immensely so. Enough to have trusted him with the fate of the universe. But every argument, every time the banter hits just a little bit too close to home, every time Starscream slips back into a crueler, more violent version of himself, Bumblebee wonders to himself if maybe this is it. After all, it wasn't really that long ago that they were shooting at each other.

Starscream has the same thoughts. Obviously, he won't admit it, but it's easy enough to see through his acts once you know him well enough - When did Bumblebee start to know him well enough? How the hell did that happen? It all feels so fast - But sometimes when there's a certain tension in his wings and his fingers curl up ever so slightly and his eyes shoot around, planning his escape, Bumblebee knows that Starscream is just as scared as he is.

It's not always like that. There are moments when they're alone where it feels like none of that matters. They sit together on their couch and they're quiet as they both do their own thing, and Bumblebee shifts to lean against Starscream's shoulder and Starscream wraps one arm around him, his hand idly tracing small circles on Bumblebee's plating, and it just feels right. Bumblebee feels more safe there than anywhere in the universe, curled into the side of one of the most dangerous people in the universe. In a moment like that, he'd tear his spark out and put it in Starscream's hands if he asked him to.

But... It wasn't that long ago that he watched people he loved die at those hands. Those same strong, clever hands that slotted perfectly into his like they were built that way, like everything in their lives had led them to this specific touch. Bumblebee wasn't a big believer in destiny but sometimes everything would line up just so, and if he'd been slightly more of a romantic he'd've called them soulmates.

It was this confusing blend of love and hate, of forgiveness and grudge and grief and adoration that didn't make sense at all and yet when Starscream knows exactly what to order him when they go out it makes perfect sense. And, somehow, it works out.

They've never really talked about... well, whatever this is. It's clearly a relationship, at this point. It's hard to argue for 'just friends' after that many rounds of... well, you know what. It's equally as hard after catching each other after god-knows-how-many nightmares, after thousands of late-late-night conversations, after the way that making each other laugh became the easiest thing in the world, after the way that they would whisper sweet complements between each other like a secret because it was far too embarrasing to say loudly.

So yeah, it was a relationship. But "open, honest communication" was not exactly in Starscream's skillset, and, well, Bee wasn't really sure he wanted to talk about it either. Putting a name on it felt. Dangerous. Like it'd ruin it. There'd be too much pressure, too much commitment, too much... truth. It felt like confessing something that he wasn't ready for.

It was one thing to sleep with Starscream. It was another to, say, kiss Starscream. It was a third thing to literally sleep with Starscream, to trust the second-least-trustworthy person on Cybertron to be with him at his most vulnerable. But to be dating Starscream? To introduce Starscream as his partner? As his conjunx? That was a world of different things that Bumblebee was absolutely not prepared to handle.

What was he supposed to say? Oh, by the way, this is my conjunx. He's killed more people than my brain can even comprehend, but he also saved the universe that one time so it's totally cool now, don't worry!

But he loved him, and that was the problem. He loved Starscream so much, and he wanted everyone in the universe to know about the funny, thoughtful, brilliant person that he loved with all his heart.

And didn't it mean something that Bumblebee had seen Starscream at his absolute worst, and still decided that loving him was worthwhile? It wasn't like Bee was just flailing at the whims of his emotions, he chose to be here. Well, not the first time, that had just kind of happened. But after that, he'd chosen to stay, because loving him seemed worth the trouble of hating him, right? And Starscream was getting better, and that was a good thing.

And who was he worried about knowing? The handful of people Bumblebee would've bothered to tell if they did get married already knew the situation, and it wasn't exactly like either of them were really public figures anymore. The government job Windblade had gotten to keep Starscream busy was mostly just paperwork, and aside from the odd job here or there Bumblebee didn't do much. He'd basically retired. So they weren't going to be the talk of the town or anything. Besides, it's kind of old news, there'd been rumors of them doing something together pretty much since the second the war ended. It wasn't true then, but by now the scandal had kinda worn off and it was more of a "yeah, no shit" kind of gossip.

Still. A decade or so of closeness didn't really feel like long enough for a lifetime commitment, especially after what, four million years of hating each other beforehand?

But... Life is shorter than you expect it to be, right? They'd both died once over the course of this whatever-it-was. And the second time, they really had thought it'd stick, and Starscream sorta-haunting him from another dimension or whatever seemed like it was a permanent commitment, and that didn't scare Bumblebee at all. It sounded nice, not having to be alone again. This was like that, except he could be alone, sometimes, because neither of them could walk through walls or locked doors anymore so all he had to do for some privacy was tell Starscream to politely fuck off for a bit, which was a plus, right? Way more pracitcal.

"Can't we talk about this in the morning?" Starscream complained, eyes half shut, snapping Bumblebee out of his train of thought.

"What?" Bumblebee asked, confused.

"I don't want you to propose while we're drunk and you're rambling, idiot," Starscream was laying in Bee's lap, nuzzling his face into Bee's stomach plating. They were holding hands. When did that happen? "We can talk about it later."

Oh, shit.

"How much of that did I say out loud?"

"I dunno, you talk a lot. You're keeping me up."

"Shit. Sorry."

"S'okay. Your voice is nice."

"Oh." It was quiet for a minute.

"It's okay if you hate me. I get it," Starscream said.

"I don't hate you," Bee responded, blinking a few times, trying to shake off the feeling of spinning. "I like it when you're here."

"But you kind of have to hate somebody a little to love them, right?" Starscream shifted, staring up at the ceiling, head still resting on Bee's stomach. "I mean, it's hard to be with someone all the time. Especially when you're stubborn and stupid, and you do stupid obnoxious things and I hate it. But if you weren't those things I hate, you wouldn't entirely be you. And I don't just like parts of you, I like you, and I can hate things you do while still knowing that it's you, and I love who you are. Even when we piss each other off. It's still you. Right?"

"Do you think i'm stupid? I'm not stupid."

"You're missing the point."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing so much. I hate it when you apologize." Starscream's hand squeezed his a little tighter.

"Oh... uh. sorry."

"You make me feel... like..." Starscream just kind of trailed off.

"Yeah, I know. you too... uh. I mean. you make me. uh. you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"This is good, right?"

"Mmm, it's gonna feel shitty in the morning, but right now it's good."

"What about after tommorow?"

"I don't know. Ask me then."

"Hm."

"I don't have a plan, Bee. That's not normal for me. But I don't need you to tell me it's going to be like this forever, because it probably won't be. Things don't work out like that for us. But right now, for the first time in my entire life, I'm genuinely satisfied. Can we just enjoy that? I don't know how to be happy, Bee. I don't know how to handle it. But I'm trying to make this work. We can go back to shooting each other tommorow if that's easier for you, but right now, I'm happy."

"Yeah? Yeah. Me too. God, I'm happy," Bumblebee pulled their joined hands up, pressing a kiss to Starscream's knuckles where they intersected. "I'm happy that you're happy. I want you to be happy."

"I know," Starscream said. He muttered something else, but it was quiet and slurred and Bee couldn't quite make it out. In his head, Bee imagined it was something along the lines of I love you.

#the prompt was 'so why arent bee and starscream conjunxed' and i got to go from there #it was interesting! this is pretty stream of conciousness so i hope its interesting to yall as well!#red.doc #starbee #maccadams

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teshamerkel · 3 years

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Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

Chapter 16 (18 Pages)

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Nia spends time with Xander’s team, learning more about aura in the process.

Nia yawns, finally giving up on her book for today and slipping a furret bookmark that Maggie had given her between the pages. No matter how hard Nia tries to focus on the words about different types of Pokémon evolution, the sentences are starting to blur and jumble before her eyes, so she figures it’s time to give it a rest.

She looks up at the two Pokemon lying a few feet away on a mossy rug, comfortably sprawled out in Xander’s team quarters. The luxio and his wartortle partner are playing some sort of game with dice-like stones. Felix is clearly losing, his fluffy ears twitching as he grumbles under his breath. Xander’s cat-like face is smug with victory, his tail flicking side to side with lazy patience.

Avery is sitting at Nia’s side, the two of them relaxing back against the wooden wall on a bed of straw and moss. Nia doesn’t want to disrupt the kirlia’s concentration as they focus on their own book, but the atmosphere is so peaceful and relaxed, bathed in the warm evening sunlight coming through the lattice window, and she can’t help but feel comfortable enough to speak up.

“Can I ask you guys something?”

All three Pokemon look up, faces open and curious.

“‘Course,” Felix says.

Nia smiles, a little embarrassed. “I know your team is just as busy as ours, if not more so. How are you not, like...exhausted? Literally all the time?”

Xander looks back to the game, laughter in his voice as he responds, “Oh trust me, we are. It used to be worse, before we got used to the job and the demanding work hours.”

“Naps help a lot, when you can manage ‘em,” Felix adds, frowning as he rolls the dice. He’s had horrible luck this whole game. At least, that’s what he’s been saying. Nia still hasn’t quite picked up the rules from watching. “You feeling worn down?”

Nia leans back against the wood of the tree. The bark making up the architecture of the tree is smooth, and thanks to her fur it isn’t even uncomfortable to lean against. She closes her eyes and hums.

“Yeah, I guess. I know I’ve been here a few weeks, but I think I’m just not used to everything yet.”

“I’ll never get used to waking up so early,” Felix grumbles. “Mornings are suffering.”

Nia laughs. “Actually, that part’s not too bad. It’s more the battling, I think. And just...I dunno, emotional stuff.”

“Mental exhaustion can take a big toll,” Avery says at her side, voice soft. They close their own book to turn their full attention to the conversation.

“I’d be exhausted too if I had Tobias for a partner,” Felix says. He’s clearly teasing, but Nia knows that on some level the wartortle actually means it. “I don’t know how you put up with him every day, Nia.”

Nia’s torn between a laugh and the urge to roll her eyes. She settles on a light tone to match the wartortle’s. “Come on, I told you we worked everything out the other day. He’s trying harder to be nice.”

Felix and Xander both make a doubtful noise.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Xander says.

“Well, I think it’s great that Tobias is trying to grow,” Avery says, giving Nia a soft smile.

Nia smiles back and leans forward to watch the boys’ game again, cupping her chin in her hands.

“He’s been really patient with all of my questions since we talked,” Nia says, feeling like she should defend her partner somehow. It’s clear that he’s been trying hard to reign in his temper and be more considerate the last few days, even if he still struggles with it. “When we cleaned out the guild’s food storage this morning, he didn’t even snap at me when I bumped into some shelves and buried us in rice.”

Xander snorts. “That’s called being a decent Pokémon, Nia. Don’t give him too much credit.”

“I’m not! I’m just saying he’s doing better, y’know?”

Felix gives Nia a grin, tilting his head in consideration. “You’re too sweet, ya know that?”

Nia doesn’t know what to say to that, so she blushes under her fur and makes a show of moving her book to her side with a quiet word of thanks.

“Yo! I’m back. Did Felix get whooped yet?”

Nia jumps and looks up to see that Kry has returned from her trip to the cafeteria to find a snack. The dinosaur-like pokemon is munching on an apple as she plops down next to Felix and Xander.

“Hey, I could still win,” Felix protests.

“Ha! Yeah, and bagon can fly.”

“You do know they can fly when they evolve, right?”

“Not anymore, genius! No evolution, no wings!”

Felix deflates and grumbles to himself as he goes back to the game. Nia tilts her head and leans closer to Avery.

“S-Sorry. Uh, what kind of Pokémon is Kry again?”

“A fraxure. Dragon type, middle evolution like the rest of us.”

Nia nods. Right. Fraxure. It certainly looks like the aggressive Pokémon could live up to her name and fracture some bones, from the brief interactions Nia’s seen. Kry’s a bit...rough around the edges. But it’s clear she fits right in with the rest of Xander’s team. Somehow.

“What have you been reading, if you don’t mind me asking?” Avery asks, polite as ever.

Nia shakes herself out of her thoughts. “No, of course I don’t mind!” She holds up the book. “It’s about different kinds of evolution? I still don’t exactly, uh. Get it. As a process. But it’s fascinating to learn about all the different ways it’s triggered.”

Avery tilts their head, looking at Nia with thoughtful consideration. “You don’t understand evolution?”

Nia’s ears flatten. “W-Well, uh, no, but—“

“Does evolution not happen to humans?”

It’s clear that Avery isn’t judging Nia’s confusion, just curious in return. Still, Nia is thankful that they keep their voice hushed.

“N-No, definitely not,” Nia says. “At least, not in the same way? I think? When Pokémon evolve, they change...suddenly, right? Like, Xander used to look like Luca and then he suddenly turned into a luxio?”

Avery hums. “More or less, yes.”

“Is...Is that...how Pokémon grow up, uh...physically? By evolving?”

The kirlia shakes their head, eyes softening into something almost sad. “No. If that were the case we’d all be in danger of dying out, with how Pokemon can no longer evolve. Don’t worry, you’re an adult by Pokémon standards, even as a riolu.”

Nia relaxes at the confirmation. With the way everyone has been treating her, she was pretty sure they’d been seeing her as the adult she felt she was in the human world, but it’s still nice to know for sure.

“Pokemon can stay unevolved forever,” Avery goes on. “They’ll grow larger than a child Pokémon of the same species, though, and physically mature. Their...statures would simply be smaller than if they evolved. Weaker.”

Nia nods. That...makes some sense, in a way. Even with humans, there were grown women who ended up much shorter than some teenage boys. Different statures among the same species.

“Humans don’t ever...change so radically. So suddenly. At least not naturally.”

Avery turns curious eyes onto Nia, so the riolu continues.

“We start out tiny, and then just grow gradually until we reach adulthood. We can change parts of ourselves, of course—darken our skin, cut our hair, change our clothes or our entire style. But...that’s not what evolution is for, right? Aesthetics, individuality? Comfort?”

The kirlia hums. “No. Evolution is typically for...strength, I suppose. Increased speed, strength, defense, sheer size.”

“So for battling?” Nia asks, confusion edging into her voice. She knew that Pokémon were more biologically geared towards fighting, with their toughened defense and incredible healing capabilities, but she also knows that most Pokémon don’t seem to prefer fighting aside from playful battles. At least, not anymore. Now they’re bakers, florists, carvers and artisans. A society.

Maybe Avery understands what Nia’s getting at, because the kirlia looks thoughtful. “There’s a reason so many Pokémon evolve through battling experience and so few from exposure to stones, or travel. Most Pokémon evolve by training themselves and growing stronger. Legends say that Pokémon used to be more...primitive. Less civilized. I believe it used to be less about strength and more about survival.”

Nia watches as Felix tries to creep his hand over the dice to cheat a turn of the stones. Xander, discussing strategies in-depth with Kry, doesn’t even look before batting the turtle’s hand away with a paw. Felix yelps, and Nia giggles.

“Maybe that’s why evolution stopped working?” Nia suggests. “Maybe Pokémon have just...evolved to the point that strength evolution isn’t necessary anymore. You’re a society now, after all. You didn’t need to be physically strong to have a lot of power or be successful in the human world. We have systems, laws, protectors. Technology and weapons. Maybe you’ve just reached a point in society where that changed enough for you guys, too.”

Avery suddenly laughs, tinkling and light. Nia isn’t sure whether to feel happy at the sound or embarrassed that she’d apparently said something stupid. She settles for staring at the kirlia with wide eyes and heated fur.

“Apologies,” Avery says, meeting Nia’s eyes, ruby to ruby. “It wasn’t a stupid thought at all. Fascinating, actually. I was just...struck. By finding such a kindred spirit in you. Xander’s the only one who even tries to humor my philosophical ramblings.”

Nia feels herself relax, and laughs as well. “Two curious souls, huh?”

Avery just smiles, warm and soft.

“What’re you two nerds laughing about?” Kry asks.

Nia looks up to see the other three Pokémon staring at them.

Avery waves their hand in a dismissive motion. “My usual ramblings, Kry. Don’t mind us.”

“Talking about evolution!” Nia adds.

At that, Xander and Felix go back to their game with amused smirks. Kry, however, rolls her eyes. “Why? We can’t evolve anyways.”

“But maybe it could be fixed?” Nia suggests. When Kry turns a doubtful look on her, the riolu shrinks back. “I-I mean, maybe not, but...”

“No harm in discussing it, right?” Avery says.

Kry snorts and goes back to the game. “Guess not.”

Nia relaxes. She knows there’s no reason for Kry to put her on edge, but she just has such a...strong personality. Nia’s become more used to Tobias’ sharp attitude, but Kry? Not so much.

“Would you evolve? If you could?”

Nia blinks and turns to Avery at the unexpected question. “W-What?”

"Would you like to evolve if it were possible?” Avery repeats. Maybe this is a normal question for most Pokémon. Or for their teammates and friends, at least.

“U-Um. I don’t know? Maybe?” Nia flicks her tail into her lap, trying to sound confident. “I mean, it doesn’t really matter much to me, since I’m going back to the human world as soon as I can find a way to return, s-so...”

Avery doesn’t respond aside from a soft sound that Nia can’t quite decipher. She’s too afraid to look at the kirlia’s expression, too scared of seeing the pity or doubt she might find there, so she deflects. “Besides, to evolve I’d have to form an affection, um...”

“Bond?”

“Yeah! An affection bond with someone. And from what I’ve read, that doesn’t seem to mean just a casual friendship.”

Avery nods, eyeing their teammates. “Correct. An affection bond that can lead to evolution only occurs between Pokemon who trust each other with anything. Who see each other as they truly are and would likely die for each other.”

Nia flicks her ear, nervously. “Th-That’s a bit, uh. Extreme.”

Avery laughs lightly under their breath. “Indeed. It’s simply how we tend to describe it. It’s...the deepest form of love, whether platonic or romantic.”

Nia nods, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah, so...I mean, don’t get me wrong! I’m really glad I met you guys and Andyn’s group and Maggie and, uh, even Tobias, in a weird way. But...”

“You don’t think you’ll ever have that sort of bond with us,” Avery guesses.

Nia flinches. The psychic type’s words aren’t cold or insulted, but it still sounds...harsh.

“Yeah, I guess,” Nia rasps, pulling her knees up to her chest. “It’s just...I’m planning on leaving, you know? I don’t wanna get too close to anyone just to leave us both heartbroken when I go.”

Avery doesn’t answer, but the silence doesn’t feel heavy. Still, Nia rests her chin on her hands, sighing. She wants to go home, nice as it is here, but she still feels bad just leaving these people behind after their kindness.

She’ll miss them.

Maybe Avery picks up on Nia’s mood change, because they turn to the riolu with an encouraging smile. “Xander mentioned that you can read the aura of other Pokemon now. Would you like to try it on me, if it’s not too much strain?”

Nia recognizes the distraction technique, but can’t help feeling grateful for it. She lifts her head, blinking. “R-Really?”

“I’m a psychic type. I know how exciting it is to try out a new mental technique with someone willing.”

Nia straightens up and turns to the kirlia, feeling a smile edge at her lips. It’s not every day she gets to test her aura abilities on someone new! So far she’s only felt Val and Maggie’s auras, and Amani’s blossoming pink during a different training session. “O-Okay. You know it’s pretty, uh…personal, though, right? Like, I’m kind looking at your soul, I think?”

Avery nods with a smile. “I’m aware.”

“J-Just let me know if you want me to stop, okay? I’ll need your hand, though.”

Avery offers a delicate hand.

Nia takes it and closes her eyes, summoning her aura (it gets easier every time she does it!), pouring it down her arm and into her hand, brushing it against the kirlia’s skin to find their aura. When Avery’s silhouette sparks to life behind Nia’s eyes, she laughs. Even without looking deeper towards the core of Avery’s aura, Nia can feel the prickle of their curiosity.

“Your aura’s blue like mine!” Nia explains.

The kirlia laughs too, quietly. “Kindred spirits indeed.”

Nia nods. “Your aura is more of a...purpley-blue, though. Deeper. Kind of indigo.” It feels...serene. Filled with a boundless curiosity and something deeply wise. It’s a dusk sky just as stars begin to shine, a calm evening full of possibilities. It’s actually a little difficult to put her finger on, to interpret the color into a personality, more difficult than it has been so far. Before Nia can go on, Felix’s hushed voice breaks through her concentration.

“That’s so cool!”

Nia jumps, yanking her hand back as the tear drops at her head drop lightly to the collar of fur around her neck. Nia turns to find Xander, Felix, and even Kry sitting close to her and Avery and watching the whole ordeal with fascination.

“Ooh! Can you do me next?” Felix asks excitedly, scooting closer as if she won’t see him there, practically bouncing in his seat.

Xander gives Felix a reprimanding look. “Dude, chill, she might need to rest or something. You know how Avery gets when they’re overworked.”

Before Felix can deflate under the scolding, Nia smiles. “N-No, I can do it, don’t worry. Just give me a second. I’m still learning so it kind of wipes me out, but that’s why I need to practice. You don’t mind me reading your aura? It’s kind of, um. Personal.”

Felix grins at her with shining eyes. “Nah, I don’t mind if it’s not too exhausting for you.”

Nia exchanges an amused look with Avery, then turns her body to Felix. She closes her eyes, holds out her hand for him to take, and then repeats the process of finding her aura, and sending it to where she’s touching the wartortle’s skin.

Felix’s aura flares to life behind Nia’s eyes, and she feels her face drop slack in surprise as the color registers. “Oh. Felix, you’re green.”

The turtle sounds as surprised as his aura feels, the green energy jumping in intensity. “Really?”

“Yeah. Like...a calm, leafy sort of green.” Not calm in the typical sense because the wartortle is certainly not that, but…flexible, she supposes. Purposefully not anxious. Like the changing seasons and the trees that follow them, very go-with-the-flow and easygoing. As unexpectedly sturdy as an oak tree, too. Comforting. It does make sense for the wartortle, in a way, but she has to admit she’s surprised by how deep into his very being his instincts to comfort amuse stabilize go. Oh, he is a very kind soul. A very open, alive soul.

Kry snorts. “Calm. Sure. Clearly you’ve never seen him after being rejected by someone.”

“Hey!” Felix says, indignant.

Nia’s concentration is broken again, and Felix’s hand is yanked away. She blinks back into reality only to sees Kry and Felix play wrestling. Xander rolls his eyes at them, but then looks back at Nia, ears swiveling forward and his brow furrowing with concern. “You okay?”

Oh, she’s breathing harder as her powers take a toll on her. But she doesn’t feel nauseous yet, which must mean she’s getting better! She gives Xander a smile. “I’m fine. This is already leagues better than I was a few days ago! Want me to check your aura, too?”

Xander blinks, exchanging a glance with Avery. Just as Nia’s about to reassure him he doesn’t have to agree, he nods. “You sure you’re okay? I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”

For a moment, Nia’s thrown by the obvious concern in the luxio’s voice, and her heart squeezes with something fond—

(She said she wasn’t going to make strong friendships here, she can’t, she’s leaving, but—)

—but then she just laughs it off, shaking her head. “N-No, I’m fine. Really.”

Xander looks at her face a moment longer, as if he’s worried she’s lying to him and about to pass out. But then he nods and lifts a paw for her to take.

Nia smiles and closes her eyes, curious despite herself. She’s only known Xander for a couple of weeks, but the more auras that Nia reads the more interesting they become, the more exciting it is to reconcile them with a person’s outward personality. So she reaches out eagerly with her aura, ignoring the strain that she’d just reassured she wasn’t feeling, and nearly recoils in surprise when Xander’s silhouette lights up in a very distinct color. It’s not a deep, protective blue, as she would have guessed, or really any color that she would have predicted.

It’s bright red.

Red, like blood pulsing from a wound, but it doesn’t bring to mind pain or aggression. It’s the blood of a beating heart, it’s the red of passion and emotion, almost too bright in its intensity, almost volatile, and oh, she never would have guessed that this was such an integral part of cool and collected Xander, that he would feel emotions so strongly they hurt. His aura is the blood of a fierce battle, of a pulse pounding away to act, to protect. It’s the red of a heart willing to bleed out before losing those close to him.

A surge of what Nia now recognizes as concern flows through his aura and slams into her like a tidal wave. Nia feels herself physically knocked back from the strength of it, pulling her hands away to catch herself. She snaps back to reality, breathing hard and loud in the quiet of the room, her heart pounding.

Xander is watching her with wide eyes, one paw lifted as if he’d reached out to help but then feared making things worse. Avery is watching her too. The sounds of Kry and Felix’s tussling have stopped.

“Nia? Are you all right?” Avery finally asks, voice soft and level.

Nia swallows hard, her own heart just starting to slow from the overwhelming intensity of Xander’s aura. She looks at the luxio again, and that’s what finally prompts her to pant, “I-I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Xander asks. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“Y-Yeah, no, sorry, that was just, uh. Unexpected? You’re red, by the way.” Just saying Xander’s aura is red is the understatement of the century, but how is she supposed to explain what she just felt?

“Red?” Xander echoes, his stiff posture finally starting to relax again. Kry and Felix move closer to listen.

Avery hums. “Interesting. And that means?”

Nia fiddles with the collar of fur around her neck, gaze flicking up to the sun-washed ceiling as she thinks. “W-Well...I’m not sure how good I am at explaining it...”

“Wait, but you said green meant calm, right?” Felix asks. “Isn’t there like...a color cheat sheet or something? Like a list of what each color means?”

“Your green is calm,” Nia corrects. “The colors sort of tell me about someone’s personality and who they are, but I don’t think there’s like...a strict color-code?”

Nia looks to Avery for help, but the kirlia only offers a sympathetic shrug. Oh. Apparently their psychic powers don’t work the same way.

“U-Um. Okay. So for example, my aura is sort of a turquoise blue, but Avery’s is more purple, like a royal blue or indigo. Their aura feels...calmer than mine does, I guess? And Felix, yours is green because you’re so adaptable, like the trees. Very go-with-the-flow, but still sturdy and reliable. Someone else’s aura might be green too but feel super different to me.”

There’s a moment of quiet as they all digest that information, and Nia cringes. “...At least, I think that’s how it works.”

“So what did my aura feel like?” Xander finally asks. “Mine seemed to…affect you differently than the others’ did.”

Nia hesitates, still fiddling with her fur. How does she describe this? “Yours is red, but it’s red like…passion, I guess would be the word. It’s just really emotional? Kind of intense, actually. I’ve never felt someone’s emotions as strongly as I did yours. They kind of swept me away and knocked me right out of my aura state.”

When Nia looks away from the ceiling to gauge the others’ reaction to that, her stomach drops. Xander is staring at her in something close to horror, his fur lifting like a startled cat. She catches Felix shooting Xander a worried look. Wait, what…what happened? She just described his aura to him. Why does he look so upset?

Before the silence can grow too tense, Kry snorts and crosses her arms, apparently tone-deaf to the sudden shift of the room’s mood. “That’s a load of crap. Xander’s the most level-headed one here. Do mine next.”

Nia opens her mouth to say no, watching Xander back away with a gaze like he isn’t totally here. Avery and Felix exchange a concerned look before the kirlia moves to follow the luxio, approaching him with soft words and a hand soothing the spiked fur along his spine.

“Well?” Kry grunts, shifting to cut into Nia’s line of sight.

“W-Wait, Xander—”

“You admittin’ you were wrong?” Kry says, almost like a challenge. “Too afraid to read mine?”

Nia focuses on the fraxure, huffing in irritation. She just upset Xander—and something in her recoils at that thought, already flooded with guilt—and Kry hasn’t even noticed? Fine, if reading Kry’s aura will get her to shut up and move so Nia can check on Xander, she’ll do it. Nia closes her eyes and touches Kry’s open palm. She shoots her aura down her arm and into her paw almost angrily, and Kry’s energy flares to life. Once again, the color that she finds there isn’t quite what she’s expecting.

“You’re…gold,” Nia says. It’s the gold shine of priceless treasure, something proud and hard-fought. But it’s also the gold of armor, of a shield, determined and immovable. Protective. She feels the fraxure’s emotions shift too rapidly for her to catch, but she doesn’t really care too much anyways, with what’s happening to Xander three feet away. Nia pulls back and opens her eyes, meeting Kry’s hard stare with her own.

“So what’s gold mean?”

Nia frowns. “It feels...determined. Proud, I guess. I dunno, I’m not very good at this yet.” Nia’s attention is elsewhere, and she leans past the dinosaur to see Xander, only to find that Xander and Avery have disappeared from the room entirely. Felix meets her panicked gaze with a sad, soothing smile.

“Sorry, Nia, Xander just…had to get some air. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

“Wait, what…what happened?” Nia rasps. “Is Xander okay? He looked...”

Felix and Kry exchange a meaningful look. The wartortle nods, and Kry moves to start cleaning up the game abandoned on the rug a few feet away, completely silent. It’s such a shift from her aggressive prodding moments before that Nia wonders if the fraxure wasn’t as oblivious to Xander’s sudden emotional turn as she thought.

Was Kry distracting her?

“Nia,” Felix says, catching her attention again. He gives her a small smile. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just…accidentally brought up some unhappy memories for Xander.”

Nia wilts, her heart sinking in her chest. She really likes Xander—she didn’t mean to upset him! Why would learning about his aura have upset him so much? Is this what Val was warning her about, about using her powers responsibly? But she didn’t do it without asking. He wanted to know! Should she have not told him what she saw? But then she would have had to lie to him!

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” Nia whimpers.

Felix’s expression softens. “I know you didn’t. And he does too, don’t worry. But maybe for tonight you should head back to Maggie’s. C’mon, I’ll walk with you.”

Nia opens her mouth to protest—she doesn’t want to just leave without talking to Xander or at least apologizing to him! But Felix is already at the doorway to the hall, beckoning her with a twitch of his fluffy tail. He doesn’t seem angry with her, but it’s clear that he’s nudging her to leave for today. Feeling upset and a lot less proud of her aura abilities, Nia grabs her book and follows him out the door, shuffling up the guild’s stairs and hoping Maggie doesn’t ask her what’s wrong.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #wartortle #fraxure #luxio #pokemon #pmd seekers of soul #riolu #kirlia #tesha draws #tesha writes

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