#feel like if they wanted to do time travel fuckery they should have gone all the way. go crazy idc...

[cnl0400]

I understand why they didn't introduce Michael in the past but I think we needed more people suspecting MC was Not From Here™, they should have played More with the idea that anybody could unmask MC/Solomon true motives and Michael already knew, It would have been better for him taunting MC with the idea of telling the truth to everyones else unless they stop making pacts with the brothers (Bcuz y'know, thats what Nightbringer wants, Right? And whatever he wants must be... Not good?)

In earlier seasons the tease the idea of two Rings of Light existing in the same timeline, can you imagine the interactions?

Michael: Wow MC! that's a pretty ring you have there!

MC: ... Yeah...

Michael: It looks identical to the one I have here, see? *Flashes His own Ring of Light to MC*

MC: Ah... *Gulp*

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #see I don't like how everyone believes that MC is just a normal human from the human world and nobody questions this #Like I know Barbatos has his moments when he's like 'I know what you are ;) ' #but It's not like he's did give you away to Diavolo or anything. so it feels a bit pointless #I wish they gave more tension with this Idea... like they could catch you if you messed up too much with the timeline #like I want people breathing down my neck... Barbatos. Michael. Nightbringer IDC I just want the tension #this post was in my drafts for a long time for like a theory post but like... we're already back in the present... it's pointless now #feel like if they wanted to do time travel fuckery they should have gone all the way. go crazy idc... #we should have seen two solomons. maybe that'll fix me

[compulsivereaderluc]

ASSASSINS CREED, ANOTHER TIME TRAVEL: PART 1

After reading about Desmond Miles time travel way to much, now my brain just keep looping about Desmond and time travel fix it

Now all I think is about Desmond fine travelling to (blank but probably reisenance) era.

Tbh I want to do the masyaf era because Altair life is way to fuckery in his later life. But I am more familiar with Ezio time.

Now that I think about it I actually think about narrative.

--

Desmond in the time when he just touch the Eye, think about anything and nothing. Everything about his situation and world in general just rushed past to him in his mind.

Thinking about all those templar VS assasins conflict, the tragedy he saw in the past long gone especially his ancestor and all of that to culminate into him. Just so not only he can sacrifice himself to protect the earth but also to unleash potential earth ending (more like human ending) to the world.

Desmond, after everything he seen and experience, doesn't mind dying for the world. He just doesn't want his dead to become so--

Wasteful. Well maybe not the right word, but he doesn't know how to describe his feelings for what his death would bring when Juno explain her conspiracy.

Most assasins doesn't get happy ending, or even meaningful. Their dead has become another growing number of tragedy in this war that make templar become so powerful.

He should be at least feel more content that his dead actually are the most meaningful in any other history, even though this kind of record probably only be keep in assassins history.

Tbh he doesn't want to died but he doesn't mind it that much when the time comes

He just wants his death to save the world, not adding the another burden to already weakened assassins.

Anyway it's done deal and in the end he can only choose the lesser evil where the world, the humanity at least have a fighting chance.

As Desmond touch the glowing Eye, the machine like other mind fuckery that was Isu tech read his heart and give him another choice, a decidedly less stable, but another path he can take other than those two choices.

So Desmond choose.

And the reality unmade.

--

Isu can calculate anything, even to something that will happens billion years in the future. That's how they made their protective shield for earth and how they made Desmond Miles, the key that unfold the sun shield.

Because for the isu tech to works it need Isu genetic power. But they calculate that Isu wouldn't exist in that billion years and they began calculate the probability of that Isu tech being used to protect the earth.

In the end the plan that came to be is to culminate every smidge of Isu genetic that scattered around the world into one man. Just in time for him to used the Eye to protect the earth from solar flares.

They calculate that he will be human in all but his Isu genetic that lay dormant. That genetic will awaken when he touches the Eye and in turn awaken the Eye and powering it with his Isu genetic until it's burn him to the core.

It's just that despite Isu people can calculate everything it doesn't mean that they can't be wrong. Especially when they don't factor another thing, like the betrayal of their people Juno.

Or even the tenacity of humanity in Desmond. Who sees everything they offer and feel discontent with the tragedy.

Desmond sees another choice besides the two, take the chance and like what he learned from faith leap, hope that he landed safely on his mark.

#assassin's creed #ac #desmond miles #another time travel #tbh i stopped following the AC after Desmond died #so it's only trilogy and other attache

[a-non-ymouswriter]

Five Times Then One

Rewind Crossover Shot with Living In Circular

Living In Circular is an awesome DSMP looping fanfic that recently did a crossover with Rewind :D Yes I gave the author permission to use Rewind in their story and yes it is completely awesome. 

In honor of that awesome chapter, of course I had to write a shot for it involving Red (Aka, Looper Tommy) and Theo :)

It’s kind of a long one folks! 

TW: Language, Self-Loathing, Angst, Etc. Etc. 

it’s mostly hilarious, but the ending is very emotional.

Five Times Theo was Dragged Into Therapy + One Time He Wasn’t

First Time

You know, there was a lot of things that Theo hated now that he and Toby were in the present. His hate for those things varied and changed as time went by, but his latest subject to vehemently hate was himself.

And he wasn’t just being edgy, or anything like that but he really, definitely hated his alternate self.

His newest alternate self.

The damned Looper alternate self, or whatever they were. The ones who suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and just interfered with everything.

Which was kind of ironic given Theo and Toby had done just that months ago when they first arrived. But at least they weren’t as fucking chaotic as the new group- and it’d just been him and Toby that came, then Ghostbur who was there because of time-fuckery but at least it was just the three of them!

Now there was a whole group of displaced time traveling (looping) assholes that were really getting on Theo’s nerve. It’s easier to get on his nerves now that his mind was so... quiet. 

But Red? Aka his dickhead alternate looper self? Oh, he was the worst of them all. 

“The fuck do you want now? What? Not enough that you gave me one hell of a black eye and locked me up with Toby to talk about feelings and all that crap? We’ve... done that already. Thank you.” There was little gratitude in his tone, more tired vitriol and annoyance. Theo makes a face at the memories of being locked in a room with Toby the room was too small the room was too small fuck fuck to talk (actually talk this time) about everything because their initial ‘talk’ was interrupted. 

It ended with less bruises than the last but Toby had an insufferable smile on his face now. 

Red had his arms crossed and he gave Theo a look, “Puf-White offered therapy, she’s pretty good at it y’know. Thousands of years of experience and all that.” 

Theo narrowed his eyes, “I’ve heard.” He replied dryly, “But no thanks. I’m good. She’s not gonna force me to take her offer.”

“Oh yeah, she won’t.” The smile on Red’s face was practically malicious and Theo immediately turned around and started running.

“But I will.”

Fuck.

Second Time

“I stand corrected last time, I absolutely fucking despise you.” Theo hissed at the physically teenage boy but mentally ancient mother fucker that had him hogtied and was currently carrying him in a princess-carry. Purposefully trying to humiliate him every step of the way. 

It’s not the carry that he’s hating, he could’ve been fine with that. It’s the fact that he’s covered in pink. Hot glittery pink. He was covered in hot pink glitter that would take ages to wash off. If ever, the little bastard might make him be glitter pink forever. 

Red snickered, “Oh calm your tits man, it’s not gonna stay forever- sure it’ll stain for a while and you’ll find glitter everywhere for a while but not forever... Wilbur and the others forbade me to make it last forever. Shame but this is all your fault y’know, you could’ve just gone to Puffy’s next session on time but nope, you tried to skip out.” He gives him an infuriating smirk, “Can’t have that now can we?”

Theo really hated him. He did. 

Third Time

“H-How exactly is he doing that?” Someone among the group asked, watching Red tug on... nothing but thin air. He was clearly just miming on pulling on something, a rope which was presumably tied around Theo who was struggling against it- but there was no rope. A few people checked, nothing there.

Silver, Looper Tubbo, chuckled, “He’s had an interesting variety of loops- this isn’t his strangest ability in his arsenal. He did say he was getting rusty on his miming tricks.” Red let out a silent cackle as he hauled a very loudly swearing Theo on a horse that didn’t exist and rode off towards White (Looper Puffy)’s Therapy Office.

“I’m frankly quite terrified but ultimately glad it’s not me in his place.” Toby admitted, watching him go- his own session wasn’t set for today, and unlike Theo, he actually went on his own so he was safe. 

Fourth Time

“I hate you, I fucking hate you so damn much.”

Red patted Theo’s cheek, “The feeling’s mutual bub. Feeling’s mutual.”

Fifth Time

“Tommy, I’m not really sure if you should keep forcing him in here.” Puffy admitted to him after the session. Theo had immediately left without another word. “Just because I said I wouldn’t force him to take my offer doesn’t really mean you should.”

Tommy rose a brow at her, “I thought you said you were making progress with him.”

The sheep hybrid sighed, “Minimal progress. He’s actually talked-”

“Then I don’t see the problem-”

“Let me finish Tommy. He HAS started talking, but not much. He asked for water or for maybe one of Niki’s cookies (which not really surprising, my wife’s cookies are amazing) but other than that? Nothing.”

The blond looper scowled, “So what, you want me to stop? To just let the guy continue to be a traumatized bastard? Just leave him be?”

“Not really- look, all I’m saying is that Theo is already... distant, to say the least, with us all. Forcing someone into therapy can both be helpful and not, sure he does need therapy and we’re trying that. I’m trying that, but you constantly forcing him isn’t helping him. And I don’t think your methods to get him here are helping that too.” Puffy pointed out dryly, remembering the angry silence as Theo wrung out his red hoodie, completely soaked from head to toe.

She laid a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “I know that you’re trying to help but you’re also angry with him Tommy. Which isn’t helping him, nor you.” She sighed, and gave him a pleading look. “At least stop humiliating him on the way here? He might get more comfortable around me if he isn’t so preoccupied by whatever you did and stewing in silence because of it.” 

Tommy didn’t look too pleased but begrudgingly nodded his head.

Not This Time

It feels like his head was going to explode.

Overloaded with thoughts that should’ve been held back the static kept him in check his head swirling with every thought being merciless to his focus and keeping distracted to the point of helplessness the static kept him focused his head was empty and yet so full.

Ever since that looping Callahan subdued the static and kept his enchantment from hurting him too much, his head...

Has never been calmer.

Paradoxically, it’s never been more chaotic.

Every thought he’s ever thought, everything he’s kept buried with the static floats into the front of his brain and he has no idea how to deal with it. 

Years worth of guilty thoughts, regrets and more keep appearing in his head. Not only that but everything seems so much louder than before. But muted too. 

It’s a confusing contradiction that has him reeling and he doesn’t know how much more he can take it. Every time he goes out, he feels like he’s being assaulted by just existing even though he’s doing nothing wrong he did everything wrong he fucked up so badly he deserves this punishment just standing there and his head threatens to crack open.

He can usually ignore it, carry on with his day what does he do now he was being useless what is wrong with him but lately it’s been getting harder and harder to ignore it all.

The static isn’t there to keep him grounded, he feels like he’ll end up flying off the ground. It isn’t there to keep him afloat, he’s going to end up sinking into the deep.

He should have said no, when Callahan subdued the static he needed it e-even if Dream said so he NEEDED it it’s so muted in his head and he has no idea what to do with the free space.

Theo has to let go of the static.

But he doesn’t want to.

Even with it muted, the absence and the less intense reaction of the static is throwing him off. 

He feels more tired than ever and on the verge of collapse.

Theo just wants everything to stop.

“You’re late to Puffy’s therapy session.”

“...”

Theo clutched his thighs, pressing them closer to his chest as he curled up even tighter against the tree trunk. He didn’t say anything to the blond god that stood not too far from him. 

He felt ridiculous. Here he was, curled up, hugging his fucking legs like a fucking child- as if it’d do anything to stop the more powerful better version of himself. Hell, he might as well be a child. He probably was compared to Red.

It’s almost funny.

Despite looking like an adult, Theo was a child, still a scared teenage fucking boy exiled from home. While before him stood an ancient old man, looking like a familiar teenage boy that Theo can only see in L’Manberg now. Two of them actually, but only one of them was Tommy Innit, a smiling teenager his own age.

Theo’s too tired to resist much this time.

The air was too much, or maybe it wasn’t enough because his lungs ached in his chest and it hurt to breathe. There was something in his eyes because they were wet and irritated. He was cold, even with his hoodie on, he was cold because he was shaking.

Everything was too loud. The wind, the cows, the rustling plants.

Everything was too quiet. The static, his voice, his own hearing.

He felt like he was going insane.

“...”

“...”

Theo doesn’t dare move from his spot, even as he hears the incoming footsteps. Dread and anticipation pool in his guts- there’s not enough room. He might heave and puke when he gets to Puf- to White’s office. He’ll clean it up maybe. 

Just what will happen now?

...

Nothing.

Theo doesn’t look up to see what’s going on, hearing and feeling someone sit a few spaces beside him on the ground. Red is suspiciously silent and it’s not helping the nausea that’s building in his throat. 

One minute passes.

Two.

Six.

Fourteen.

Twenty.

Fourty-five minutes.

“I just...” His tongue is heavy and bloated, soft but raspy and he’s struggling to speak, “want everything to stop.” 

“...” Red doesn’t reply. 

“I’m so tired.”

Silence.

“Please.”

“It’s not going to stop.” Red replies softly, for once, the hatred is not there as he sees the child underneath the mask. “And you’re always going to feel tired- but it’ll get better.”

“It does?” The child asks the old man.

The old man does not smile, “I swear, it does. It just takes time and effort.” He promises the young boy.

Theo is not fragile. Tommy isn’t. 

But everyone has their moments.

They stay there for the whole day.

#non post #Rewind #tommyinnit #non writes #5+1 one shot #living in circular

[wevegottogetaway]

I love you

First I love yous...do I need to say more? Anyway, please don’t hesitate to reach out for anything, whether that be comments, requests, feedback or just to have a chat! Happy reading xx

It’s been three days of utter pandemonium ripping through your brain in complete disarray. Three days of pent up stress storming through your mind as you ran like a headless chicken to try and find a handle on a situation that frankly, you didn’t give a rat’s ass about.

It all started when your boss had called you in his office, his signature tyrant-resting face on, solid frown drafting his features in a look of severity. Well, this can’t be good, you’d immediately thought once you took a hesitant seat across his desk. You’d hoped for a benign reason behind the sudden meeting, and that the scowl on his face was merely a residual of some other trouble that had absolutely nothing to do with you.

Your prayers had fallen on deaf ears however, as the summoning proved to be a twenty minutes angry diatribe about how one of your most recent client had expressed their wish to withdraw from their deal and de facto, the company. Though it hadn’t been your fault per se, your boss didn’t have any reservations about reminding you of your supposed responsibility to keep your clients sated and on the company’s leash. He’d given you three days to fix it after that. Three days to persuade the client not to pull out of the deal, or you risked some serious downgrading if not redundancy.  

You’d called Harry for support the minute you got home and spent the whole evening brainstorming the craziest ideas to him. He’d listened patiently, holding your hand on the table as you both indulged in the Thai take-out he’d picked up on his way over. That first night, you’d barely slept as you laid in his strong arms, back to his chest. Your reeling mind had still been trying to conjure up any sort of plan that would help you out of this chaos; but for each switch of the glowing red digits on your alarm clock, your hopes had dwindled some.

You hadn’t known then, but Harry couldn’t find rest either as he spooned you against him. You two hadn’t been dating long, several months at best, but already your distress was unbearable to him and every bone in his body ached to do something to help you. This feeling of powerlessness was crawling out of his skin and swimming around like a shark amidst his prevalent thoughts of support, admiration and love. Because, while he’d shown you the first and conveyed the second countless times in the past, the third had yet to tumble out of his lips, despite the confession burning their flesh a bit stronger every day.

What really had had his mind reeling though, was knowing that maybe, just maybe, he had the power to make this situation go away; and for each switch of the glowing red digits on your alarm clock, his hopes grew some.

Your earlier utterance of the client’s name had been ringing through his mind in faint recognition, an itch starting to fester at his fingertips. Dialing a phone number was all it could take. A couple choice words and if he played his cards right, the deal would be back on the table. He’d known interfering was arguably a bad idea, and truthfully he’d always made a point of honor not to use his connections to serve ulterior motives (his or anyone else’s), but how was he supposed to do nothing when the person that caused you trouble was in fact a friend of a friend that might reevaluate their stance if he pitched in with a bit of charm and compelling words? How was he supposed to stay idle, watch you dissolve in an anxious mess, if he wasn’t as powerless as he thought?

So he didn’t. 

He’d originally planned on keeping you in the loop, but you’d been gone by the time his forest green eyes had fluttered back to consciousness the next morning. After a quick shower, a large mug of the coffee you’d left for him before running back to work, and locking your apartment with the spare key you’d given him a couple weeks back, he’d pulled out his phone. Two minutes was all it took for his friend to pass him your client’s number and without hesitation, he’d launched the call and brought his phone to his ear.

It took a bit longer than a couple of minutes for that conversation to take effect, but eventually his words hit their target. After all, his lovely nature could pierce through the most robust walls and stubborn minds. He didn’t even have to put on the charm that much, instead drawing earnest sentiments about your impeccable skills and rambling about how there was no better person to keep their account safe in the business. He’d gnawed at his lips the whole time, desperate to pull through but still scared to fail you somehow. You’d already been let down by the client and your boss, you certainly didn’t need your boyfriend added to the list.

The call had ended with their promise to reassess and consider your undeniable abilities in the equation, yet the next day you were once again convoked to your boss’ office with a snarly bark of your name. Puzzlement washed over you as you speed-walked after him. Why was he still so resentful with you when you’d gotten the client to reenter the contract?

Another twenty minutes of intense scolding provided you with that answer. With a disdainful gaze puncturing your poise, your boss told you that while your job was no longer on the line, you’d been given a firm warning about using your boyfriend as negotiator for the company’s dealings.

How he knew when you yourself weren’t aware of the fact, you didn’t know. In retrospect, your talk with the client had been suspiciously easy for someone who’d made their will to ditch the company crystal clear. You’d merely laid out your arguments, expecting resistance and some pushing, but were only met with a squinted look and cautious acceptance. Now you know your case had already been pleaded once, by the man who was taking more and more space for himself inside the chambers of your heart.

You didn’t quite know how to feel about it; didn’t know if you should be mad or grateful. You were specifically stunned because you knew it was out of character for Harry. Your boyfriend was the most generous being you’d ever met, but humility was even more so a prevailing layer of his beautiful nature. You certainly didn’t expect it, didn’t wish for it to happen again because you were always adamant not to ever use anyone for their assets. Yet there was a tingling, a mixture of discomfort and gratefulness, sloshing in the pit of your stomach. 

This whole thing was a mind-fuckery of emotions you were too tired to process.

What you did feel though, was the pure frustration at your boss’ hypocrisy. You both knew he didn’t really care how you’d gotten the deal back, just that you did, but his intolerable disposition wouldn’t allow him to applaud your efforts and move on.

Wanting to put this all mess behind you, you bit back the retorts that you craved to force down his throat, simply nodded through his chastising charade, and leaped to your feet as soon as the dismissing words left his stupid trap.

Now that you’re making your way inside your home, your nose is hit by a waft of delicious aromas traveling from the kitchen. Your mind is still fuzzy with every trouble and startling revelation that transpired in the past three days, but as your eyes settle on your apron-clad boyfriend, you take a moment to appreciate the sight of his soft figure stirring the content of what must be a pan on the gas. His back is facing you, but you can hear the gentle humming under his breath, as he hasn’t registered your arrival yet.

After another minute of whistling, he finally twists around and his eyes almost pop out of their socket when they find your timid stance a couple feet away. "Jesus, pet, didn’t know you were home yet," he chuckles softly before taking in your somewhat moony features. Your expression is hard to pinpoint, your delicate traits blank of any emotions yet your eyes have the same sparkle that greets him every morning and every night when he pulls you for a deep kiss in his warm embrace. "Everythin’ okay, love?"

The query snaps you out of your semblance of trance, your head looking down to the floor to gather your wits before you level your gaze back to his. "Yeah it is. Umm, my boss called me in again today," your bite your lip, not knowing how to navigate the conversation. In all honesty, you just want to be done with the whole thing, would rather spend an evening full of cuddles and potentially mind-blowing sex, but you know this ought to be acknowledged.

"Oh," his brows pull together with the same confusion you’d experienced when your boss ushered you to his office. "Did he thank you for the big save?"

"Not exactly," you clear your throat bracing yourself and Harry’s face tenses at the realization about where this is going. "My job is safe and I’m still working on the account," hie loosens up in relief, but your next words have him stiffen right back up in alarm. "But I got a warning for a certain someone’s involvement in the company’s operations. Apparently, my boyfriend called the client on my behalf and forgot to clue me in…"

Your voice is calm and doesn’t carry any reproachful tone, but Harry’s pulse is suddenly speeding with dread regardless. The fact that he could have lost you your jobs is the only thing registering in his frenzied mind, as he sets the dish towel from his shoulder down on the counter and steps closer to you. His eyes are bouncing off yours in a frantic back and forth, as he gulps his remorse down. Before you can appease him with reassuring words, and show your lack of anger, he launches in an apologetic rant, enclosing both your hands between his palms.

"M’so sorry, love. I didn’t mean to put you in a bad position. Fuck I just- I kept thinkin’ I could help since your client was a friend of a friend. And, the more I thought about it, the more I kept thinking 'I can’t do nothin’. Cause I hate seein’ you in pain an’ I really want to be here fo’ you and I know this was probably the wrong way to go about it, but damn y/n, I couldn’t stand doin’ nothing, m’sorry-"

"I love you."

The words come fast but distinct, airy but firm, not an ounce of doubt laced through their utterance. An eerie silence permeate the small space surrounding them, as Harry tries to find his own words back. It took three of them to steal all of his, but in his defense they were the ones he’d been dying to hear and to deliver himself. His eyes are wide, blinking in total surprise. He’d expected irritation, disappointment perhaps, maybe even anger, but definitely not the sweetest words he’s been keeping at the forefront of his mind. "I- you do?"

You still have that wondrous look on your face, but this time a bright smile enlivens your features, "I really do." You take your hands out of his grip to hold onto his wrists and pull him closer to you. You have to look up since he towers over you but you’ve always liked that about your relationship; the way he always seems to dwarf you in his embraces, whether because of his height or his bear-paw hands. "I mean, don’t that again," you let out a soft laugh, "but I know why you did it, and I love you for it." 

Harry smiles rivals your own now, as your hands smooth up his arms to clasp at the nape of his neck, "plus, my boss is a jerk anyway so, who cares?" You pull him in a loving kiss then and his arms wrap themselves around your shoulders in a tight lock. His lips are as soft as ever between your own, and you detect the faintest taste of pepper and other exotic herbs lingering on their edge, from his cooking endeavors. He’s always been one to have a taste or two while he’s working, whether that be in the kitchen or other rooms…and regardless, you always like it when you get your share from his supple lips.

He feels slightly distracted against your mouth though, his technique not as ravishing as it usually is. and before you can wonder why, he’s pulling an inch away from your swollen lips, hurriedly whispering your tender confession back to you as though the words couldn’t be out of his mouth and into your heart fast enough, "I love you too, pet. So much." His hands are cajoling your face, thumbs drawing soothing circles across your cheeks, and his beaming smile is melting your heart in a goo of pleasure after all the strain it suffered in the past couple of days.

"Fuck, c’mere, don’t ever wanna stop kissing you," Harry mutters against your lips before diving in for a real mind-bending, soul-shaking, tantalizing kiss this time. Just like that, all your worries and sorrow evaporate into thin air, only to be replaced by an intoxicating pink loving brume. You two definitely spend the most perfect evening with lots of cuddles and endless mind-blowing lovemaking. Screw everything else.

➪ Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #creative writing #reader insert #Harry fic #harry styles fanfic #love #romance #first i love you

[edward-little]

so does crozier the 80s DM end up joining the campaign or not? 👀

crozier the 80s DM ends up joining the campaign. he's no one's first choice because he has terminal DM syndrome-- he's very into strategy and rules and mechanics and worldbuilding at the expense of his ability to play a single character, and he asks a lot of questions while the rest of the table gets annoyed that he's slowing the pace of the session, and he tends to say "i'm going to roll such-and-such" rather than asking "what can i see?" or "do i believe them?" or whatever. fitzjames, who is very much towards the other side of the spectrum where he's more willing to engage in the story at the expense of mechanics, is pretty miffed by this.

crozier isn't used to playing an individual character himself, but he spends a lot of time deliberating and asking the others at the table what they're thinking of playing in order to fit himself into the party last; if he's not going to be enjoyable, he can at least be useful. this approach doesn't gel with the rest of the table, who tend more towards play-what-you-want-and-it'll-all-work-out. he resigns himself to absence during roleplay but functionality during combat, and he'll be decent at travel/exploration too. he settles on a good utility character-- a variant human hunter ranger, outlander background, with the observant feat.

he doesn't intend to roleplay very much, if at all. he figures he'll just stick to the back of the party-- with 11 CHA amongst 14/16/18 CHA characters he's hardly the face, anyway-- and wait for combat. during combat he'll do a decent output of damage, and provide good healing during and after. during exploration he'll basically ensure they don't have to worry at all about food or water or getting lost. his character passively makes everyone's lives easier, but he frustrates the players. does francis not like playing? well, there are so many other things he could be doing. if he doesn't want to play he should just leave the table.

this comes to a head during the tail end of their fifth session. fitzjames, who plays a wild magic sorcerer and always manages to come in clutch with a well-placed enchantment spell, begins making digs at his character; at first it's entirely in-game, one character trying to start a conversation with the other, but out of game, it reads more like fitzjames criticizing crozier for not being a team player. he's not invested in the party. crozier tells him of course he's fucking invested, he built his whole fucking character around the party, and it's their fault if they've gone this far without realizing how much he's done for them. the problem is they've not given him the respect he's owed.

23 to hit, 1 + STR bludgeoning damage.

during their next boss fight, crozier decides, pettily, not to put out any healing and only deal damage. blanky's character loses a leg. mcdonald, present for this session after a couple of months of tight scheduling, can only do so much with cure wounds.

after that, they all have some time to think. crozier sits out the next session, feeling guilty over a stupid decision, even one made in character, that cost another player so gravely. it's just one more reminder that his own actions don't just have consequences for him-- the fallout can land upon others, too. when he comes back a session later, he apologizes. blanky's just glad to have another old man at the table again-- all these young lads who've only played 5e don't have the heads for any gamebreaking shit. in-game, crozier's character makes an effort to mend his relationships with his party members, an olive branch from him to the party and from crozier to the table. his level 8 ASI goes into a 2 point CHA boost, sacrificing the utility of a DEX or WIS increase in favor of showing an effort to invest more in the story and in the character interactions.

his character and fitzjames' character have a bit where they decide to talk about their fight in the fifth session. crozier stumbles his way through the roleplay, and fitzjames gives him more slack than he would ordinarily. fitzjames' character's level 8 ASI goes into WIS; he feels this newfound and growing understanding between them has made him just a little bit wiser.

the thing is, crozier's knowledge of the game, his understanding of mechanics, and his knack for using the rules of the game in service to strategy makes him a good leader for the party. now that he's talking more-- both in- and out-of-character-- there's more discussion at the table about how to go about things. if fitzjames drops a silence on such-and-such area they can wait until the guards reach that spot and fight them unnoticed, or if dundy casts animate objects at the banquet hall they've got 10 forks each doing an average of 6 damage for ~60 damage per turn, and such. of course, blanky already knew crozier was capable of this sort of fuckery, but for the others, it's a pleasant surprise. where before they flew by the seat of their pants and happened to come out the other end with a harrowing story to tell, now they're playing both more carefully and more riskily, with bold strategic moves. this is where their game begins feeling more like a narrative, a story they're playing out but know the ending will be satisfying.

this also means it's time to raise the stakes. the survival mechanics become less forgiving. they're out of crozier's character's favored terrain, and long rests are harder to come by. more attacks happen at night, before they can get a full eight hours, and exhaustion begins to play a factor. crozier's character, now at 13 CHA, takes the inspiring leader feat-- this isn't a character decision, but an effort to keep the party alive by giving them 13 temporary hp per rest. it can only go so far. fitzjames' character eventually racks up 5 levels of exhaustion and is unable to move. the party picks him up and carries him with them in the wagon, and he dies the next morning as he picks up one more level of exhaustion.

after that session, they have a talk at the table about whether or not they want to continue with the campaign. there's been one player character permadeath and things look bleak. the decision is made that the party would wish to continue, and so they do. meanwhile, the DM has allowed fitzjames to take up one of the NPCs to play-- a human swashbuckler rogue with the actor feat.

#the terror dnd #GOOD LORD. SORRY FOR ALL OF THIS #also. i do NOT know who the dm is. not sir john. maybe jcr. maybe bridgens ooooooh :0

[how-masterful]

Remastered

Dhawan!master x reader

Chapter 3: New Earth

Summary: New earth, new adventures, but the return of a dreaded old face. You’d been acting strange all day, and despite the distracting wonder of the mysterious cures the sisters of plenitude were concocting, the Master had most definitely noticed. But when all is revealed in the hospital, things go from curious to complicated- especially when the sick break free, and the root of all the days problems decides she wants to try the masters body on for size.

Notes: At last! Another remaster! This time not a Matt but a David episode: loathed by some, but a guilty pleasure of mine! I mentioned wanting to write this fic  while ago, and i finally got around to it on the eve of Doctor Who day! I hope you all enjoy!

As usual, this fic is dedicated to my dearly beloved queen @plethora-of-imagines​. My watchalong companion, fellow soft dom lover, most trusted confident, and the most hat obsessed girl i’ve ever met. I hope it lives up to the hype!

They were surrounding you in droves. 

The sick. The diseased. The nearly dead. 

The filthy pipe covered walls of the hospital basement flying past your field of vision as you desperately raced towards salvation.

Or at least, the woman who was currently controlling your body raced.

Cassandra's presence in your head was agony- not just for the fact the woman was compressing you to death, but because she was so damn judgemental. In all of your adventures in time and space you’d never met someone so cruel, so self absorbed. And you travelled with the Master of all people, for crying out loud. You suspected the only reason you were being saved was because she was too self preserving to let herself, and by extension your body, go to waste. At least she had the common sense to keep up her speed, the Masters pace just in front of you as you bypassed the closing passageways of the intensive care unit and headed towards the room where she'd been hiding all this time.

“You’d better know where we’re going!”

The Master, for lack of a better term, was fucking pissed to say the least. The revelation that you weren't truly yourself was far more shocking than the revelation of the human farm the Sisters of Plenitude were hiding in their basement. He’d first accused the matron, who denied having any part in the ‘fuckery with your brain’, but it soon became clear who exactly had decided to hitch a ride inside your delicate human brain. The, as the Doctor's pet had once referred to her as, bitchy trampoline. You supposed he was also furious that she’d kissed him. You yourself were certainly boiling with anger at that fact. At least it was still your mouth, you reasoned.

“Keep a lid on it, handsome! This has been my terf much longer than its been yours!”

She knew the way well, the distance between yourself and the following lab grown humans strengthening as your feet lead you towards the dingy basement where your mind had been overtaken. Her assistant chip was long gone now, the boy probably dead from the swarming humans. All that was left was you, Cassandra, and the furious Master. 

The pair of you skidded around a plethora of corners, the basement of the hospital built not unlike the elaborate mazes the Master would construct within the walls of the TARDIS. You very much wished to be safe in your home instead of running from manic nuns and the almost living dead, but you knew that travelling through time and space meant a girl couldn’t be picky. If only Cassandra also shared the sentiment

"THROUGH HERE!"

You still weren't used to the ridiculously posh accent coming from your mouth, her shrill yell guiding the timelord to the small door that lead to her chambers.

The Master huffed, following your guide as you crawled through the square metal hatch. You heard the door slam and latch shut soon after, the chambers flying past as the far entrance arrived into view. With a heave the hinges opened, Cassandra letting out another scream as the diseased loomed large in the doorway. The door slammed shut as she pressed your back against the rusting metal and pulled down the lock, her eyes meeting the deadly glare of the Master in the middle of the room.

"My god, we're trapped in here! What are we going to do?!"

The Master narrowed his eyes, leering at the woman with a cast iron gaze that made you even shiver.

"Get out. I want her back. Now."

Cassandra rolled your eyes, the woman matching the Masters stance. He let out a low growl, the Master stepping forward with gritted teeth.

"I know you've met the doctor, but you've never dealt with someone like me. So let me be quite plain: I'm not going to play your stupid little human games, Cassandra. I want Y/N back, and I want her back now."

"God, you timelords are all the same, so demanding! You do know it's just a title, don't you darling?"

The Master scoffed, pure fury evident in his sneering grin. Cassandra took a step back, arms dropping from their fold as he took a step closer. His presence was intimidating to say the least.

"This plan of yours, it had potential. A psychograft- I must admit, rudimentary but creative."

It was Cassandra's turn to scoff now. The pair of them practically circling each other, the Master watching her turn her back as the last human stepped towards the ruined remains of her rusted frame. The Master stood besides the psychograft, the TCE now in his grip as he gestured with the small device squarely at the machine.

"Banned on every civilised planet, I can relate. But you know why they were banned, Cassandra? They were sloppy, completely unstable."

"Another thing you can relate to?"

"You're compressing my Y/N to death!"

Cassandra sighed, venom on her tongue as she kissed your teeth, scrunching her nose in disdain. Your fingers carefully traced over the metalwork of her frame, the jarred brain she once used now beginning to wither as the suspension fluid leaked and pooled out onto the rank basement floor. 

"And where do you suppose I go, hmm? My skin is long dead." Cassandra snapped, head whipping around to glare at the man in the purple coat. She smirked cockilly, tilting your head.

"You ought to play softer with your toys, time boy. This very sore little human of yours is my one ticket out of this shit hole"

"I'm afraid you'll have to deboard your vessel, Cassandra. You can float in the air- like dust, or a disgustingly persistent mosquito. Quite on brand, for you-"

"Very funny-"

"But your self preservation, Cassandra, is nothing but a big, fat you problem. That body you're in is precious to me and I'm not letting you get even a scratch on her."

Cassandra glowered, clenching her teeth as the Master gripped the TCE tight in his palm. She stared at him, lips quivering as she planned her next rebuttal. The Master held his nerve, unable to help the tightening of his chest as he thought of you, stuck inside your own body. He knew the feeling of being kept from your own being all too well from his little stint in utopia. Cassandra finally relented as the Master slowly raised the TCE to aim at her head.

"Give. Y/N. Back."

Cassandra carefully stood, slowly stepping towards the Master as he brandished his weapon in his hand. She teasingly began to twist the charm on the necklace around your throat, holding the pendant between her fingers. The Masters glare strengthened, eyes focused on the jewellery in her grasp. 

"You know, once you were dead and this place far behind me, I was planning on dumping the meat and pawning the bling as soon as I could. But you, Master, are too stubborn for your own good."

The Masters expression reeked of confusion, his head tilting to the side as Cassandra squared off her shoulders. The time lord took this as a threat, tightening his hold on the TCE as he watched her every move. You could see it in his eyes- Thousands of possibilities processing at once, the gears of his mind shrieking as they grinded through his manic yet methodical systems of thought.

"You want her back? You asked for it."

The tremendous pressure on your head suddenly lifted in a whirlwind of overstimulation. Every sound screamed in your ears, the basement around you caught in a surge of darkness as your hazed vision was stolen from you. A loud ringing persisted, if only for a few moments, the muted and muffled existence you'd sat within ripped from under your feet. Your knees weakly buckled, shoulders slumping as you felt the ground connect between your feet. You let out a gasp for air, eyes scrunching shut as you shook your head. The basement slowly came back into vision, your head recovering from the imprisonment with a low groan from your throat and a palm to the side of your skull.

"Ow, jesus christ, my fucking head. Where did she go?"

You focused your vision on the man in front of you. The Masters back was turned towards you, the timelord almost bent in half. He didn't respond, body oddly still as you dared to take a step forward. You had a dreadful suspicion about where she'd run off to after leaving your head.

"Master?..."

"Dear lord, I'm a bad boy now!"

No way. No fucking way.

Cassandra turned around with a flourish, hands upon the Masters chest as she let out an excitable giggle. His eyes sat wide, a half smile upon his face as she familiarised herself with her new body. She stumbled on her feet like a newborn deer, inspecting her fingers and rocking on her toes as she rubbed at her chin. The presence of a beard under her fingertips seemingly blowing the woman's mind. You didn't know whether to laugh at her antics or cry at the problem that just emerged before you.

"I've never been a bad boy before! Bad girl, for sure, but this?! Isn't he just delicious!"

His usual northern tone was long gone, a fact that hurt much more than it should. Cassandra couldn't stop giggling to herself, her hands playing over his cheeks as he hurriedly raced towards the cracked mirror placed upon the wall. She gasped loudly, rippling with excitement as her hands roamed over the Masters body: Fluffing his hair, synching his waist, popping the top button on his shirt. Seemingly doing everything she could to fill you with jealous rage.

"Are you about done?"

The Master flapped his hand in your direction, shushing you as she childishly jumped up and down on the spot. You folded your arms, biting your tongue as she preened and primped in the mirror, pushing his face within her hands and posing with narcissistic delight. You'd seen the Master do this himself, on occasion. But this was a completely different beast- especially since you didn't enjoy where her hands were seemingly wandering to

"Oh hush, darling. I'm just having a little fun with all these new… graciously extensive parts- these have definitely been well worn in, the saucy little thing. I'm quite the handsome devil now, aren't I?"

You growled, nose scrunching as she hummed to herself, smoothing down his purple tweed collar as she began to prance and strut around the room. She lept over various apparatus and rubble, spinning and watching the purple material of his coat fly like a skirt behind her. Cassandra let out a satisfied cackle, sighing with up most content. Your rage was furiously simmering within your chest.

"He's quite the riot, isn't he? He's so feisty, I love it. So edgy, so... Naughty! He has lots of filthy thoughts about you in here, oh the pictures i could paint for you."

"Get out of my- the Master now!"

Cassandra cackled, leering in towards you with a torturous grin. You'd feel rather flustered if it weren't for the fact this wasn't the Masters doing. Cassandra held her hands to his chest, stalking forward as you desperately clung to your stoicism. You wouldn't give her the satisfaction of watching you crack.

"THE Master? Or were you about to say MY Master? You forget darling- i've been inside your head. You want this samba in his chest to only beat for you."

You rolled your eyes, leaning away as the Master giggled and leant in closer towards your face. If Cassandra weren't within the Masters body you most definitely would've punched her. But your growing level of rage meant that was a fact you would possibly be able to overlook.

"It's a shame, really. If it weren't for the fact he'd kill me on the spot, I think i'd like to keep him. He seems like a seasoned professional in showing a lady a good time, after all!"

You let out a scandalised squeak as Cassandra grabbed at your hips, causing herself to dissolve into stitches of laughter as you shoved at the Masters chest. A blush of embarrassment flooded your cheeks, your fists bunching together in furious resentment. 

You sighed loudly, narrowing your eyes as you glared at the woman currently possessing your time lord. She was well and truly pushing your limits at this point and you weren't sure how much of her shenanigans you could handle.

"It's so easy to tease you, darling! You know at first, i just thought it was a personal interest of yours. But he actually calls HIMSELF the Master!-"

"Cassandra-"

"How fabulously kinky! Lucky girl, you did find an exciting bedfellow. How you kept hold of him i'll eternally have no idea."

"ENOUGH!"

The timelord paused from playing with his hair, turning to look you up and down with widened eyes. Cassandra took in your heaving chest, the tightening of your jaw as you glared daggers into her forehead. She raised his eyebrows, raising his hands in mock surrender. You could feel the sarcasm dripping from her actions, which served to infuriate you even more so than before.

"Struck a nerve, did I?"

"We're stuck in the basement of a hospital in QUARANTINE, chased by INFECTED LAB GROWN HUMANS! All of which, by the way, is ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! And you think the best use of ALL OUR TIME is to play a game of musical bodies and piss off the only person able to help you out?!"

Cassandra pouted childishly at your words. You let out a frustrated huff, causing her to almost recoil in shock.

"We're short on time and big on problems. The last thing I need is you making this situation any worse than it already is!"

A thick silence sat between the pair of you. It was almost a dare to see who would attempt to move first, Cassandra's lips pursed and quivering as if the sarcastic retort was planning itself behind the Master's teeth and upon the timelords tongue. Your determined stoicism was completely abandoned in favour of indulging in the buttons Cassandra had been desperate to push. At this point all you wanted was the Master- not the stuck up snob currently cursing you internally in several languages.

You wanted to be out of this hospital and back in the TARDIS, to lay together and laugh at how a crazy old human who didn't know when to die decided to prance around inside the pair of you for an hour or so. But you couldn't. Because that crazy old human was ridiculously persistent. You thought her and the Master could possibly get on if it weren't for the current predicament you'd found yourselves in.

It seemed Cassandra had finally found her argument. The Master stepped towards you, hands on his hips as he sneered up and down your body. You opened your mouth to speak, ready to smack down any argument she could possibly have against common sense and decency, until a loud crash suddenly broke the pair of you from your standoff.

"Please… Help us!"

The far door to the basement slammed open, the sound of metal ricocheting against the aging stone wall. The diseased clawed and clamoured, spilling into the dingy room with a surge of newfound freedom.

The Master let out a petrified scream, hands flinging to your shoulders as he yanked you forwards to act as his human shield. Cassandra cowered behind you, peeking over your shoulder in terror. You could most definitely slap that woman, you decided. Guilt be damned. He let out a shrill yowl of panic, jutting you forward towards the oncoming hoard.

"TAKE HER, SHE'S LESS VALUABLE THAN I AM!"

Yep. Guilt be most definitely damned.

"Cassandra we have to work together!" You pleaded, turning over your shoulder to face the terrified Master cowering behind you. 

"The Master would know what to do but since you won't leave his head you have to trust I know what he'd say!"

Cassandra whined, roughly pulling you backwards as she stepped away from humans that were slowly beginning to close in.

"And what would he say?!"

You assessed your options. The sick were surrounding you from most angles, your entrance still sealed from your previous escape. However, a possibility caught your eye.

A slender black ladder. Your way out.

You turned once more to the woman, confidence finding itself back in your stride.

"UP THERE!"

The Master screamed once more, heaving you forwards with a weak shove as he scrambled up the stone steps that just emerged behind him. You yelped, gathering your footing with haste as you saw the purple of his coat flail behind him.

“Out of my way! Pretty people don’t die first!”

You followed Cassandra's path, clambering through the remaining metalwork of her skin frame and heading towards the metal ladder that sat flush against the wall. The basement supposedly lead towards all manor of places within the hospital, this upward ascent leading you towards the hollow insides of an abandoned elevator shaft. You watched the timelord hesitantly grasp hold of the flaking and rusting rungs of the ladder, disgust evident on his features as he retched at every climb. You couldn't be dealing with any more of her antics today.

“WHAT’S THE PROBLEM!?”

“THIS LADDER IS FILTHY!”

“SO!?”

“I HOPE YOUR MASTER HAS HIS TETANUS SHOT!”

You shrieked in frustration as you shoved Cassandra further up the ladder, your wafer thin patience having been tested today by that woman more times than you ever thought you could possibly muster. Your time was very much running out, and getting a disease from a ladder was of more concern to the woman than obtaining every single disease on new earth. The audacity of that woman astounded you to a completely new degree.

“IT'S EITHER THAT OR PLAGUE!”

“STOP YELLING AT ME, I CANT COPE WITH ALL THIS PRESSURE!”

“FUCKING CLIMB, CASSANDRA!”

A metallic thunk erupted from the bottom of the ladder, the blistered fist of one of the lab grown humans clinging tight to the first rung of your escape. The flustered cry of Cassandra floated further up the length of the ladder, your stomach filling with pity as you watched the pained glances and heard the pleading cries of the sick. You only hoped you could get the Master back and figure out a way to help them.

“Please… help us!”

“I’m sorry! I’ll try, I promise!” you called in return, before turning to face the panicked clambering of the Cassandra possessed Master up to safety.

You could do this. If you were lucky, you reasoned. It was possible.

If you were truly lucky you could get your Master back, lift the quarantine, save the sick, and escape this dreaded hospital. Only four things. You could do this.

But first, you had to deal with Cassandra:

And judging by the fact she was still screaming, several rungs up the ladder, you needed all the luck you could possibly get.

#dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master #doctor who #sacha dhawan #The Master #BBC Doctor Who #doctor who season twelve #spymaster #Sacha!Master #fanfiction #fanfic #remastered #dhawan!master / reader #the master x reader #the master x you #master x reader #reader insert #x reader #reader #new earth

[mochideleche]

captain. | t.oikawa

oikawa x reader

-> synopsis :  you didn't really want to be on seijoh girls volleyball team, let alone become captain. But as a good hearted and dedicated student, you accept the responsibilities that come with the role, especially when it comes to dealing with the boys’ team captain.

“They said what?” you said through gritted teeth feeling the anger rising up within you before you could even comprehend what on earth was being revealed to you. 

“They uhh-” Mitsuah (seijoh girls’ official setter) paused for a moment, wringing her fingers in her hands and trying her best to not make eye contact with you, “they said that practice would prevent them from being able to watch oikawa at his practices, since you know, we have our practices at the same time...”

You closed your eyes to contain the indescribable fury you felt at that moment, What kind of fuckery is this? 

Ever since you had joined aoba johsai, you always found that despite being a powerhouse school for volleyball, the girls team was extremely under looked. 

Sure, you had quickly gotten over the fact that maybe the boys’ team got a bigger crowd since their matches seemed to be more intense and they had three times the amount of members than your club had and they seemed to be glorified way more than your team did but-

you didn’t need an overwhelming crowd of supporters to do well and you knew that. 

But this. 

This was your breaking point. 

Not only did you have to hear about oikawa this, oikawa that amongst the girls in your school every other second, but now he was actually causing your already small ragtag team to decrease even more? 

You hated him, and you hadn’t even had a proper conversation with the guy.

Stupid oikawa with his genius setter skills, tactical mind, amazing game intuition, killer serve, killer smile, pretty face, long sexy legs- 

Uhm, what?

You couldn’t help it, he was the looker but you thought he abused his gorgeous powers to wrap around as many girls as he could around his finger. 

“Well,” you said, surprising calm, shocking both your fellow third years, “we’ll be getting new recruits anyways. did you manage to get the forms from the first years?” 

“Uhm-” your vice captain Ara faltered, taking out the papers she had hidden behind her back. 

Her eyes glanced nervously towards them before handing them to you with a shaky hand, “here they are”

“THERE’S ONLY TWO?” 

The two girls in front of you winced. 

“hey, at least we have recruits-” Mitsuah tried, but you weren’t finished screaming yet.

“THAT’S BARELY ENOUGH FOR A TEAM”

“plus a libero” Ara offered but your screaming continued.

“I THOUGHT MORE FIRST YEARS SHOWED UP TO THE PEP RALLY, WHERE THE HELL ARE THEIR APPLICATIONS?”

You turned back to the girls who were eyeing each other wearily, there was something they didn’t want to tell you, and it was probably for the best unless they wanted you to go kill a man. 

“Y/N, promise not to scream again?” Mitsuah asked and you gave a curt nod. 

It was your first day of being captain, half your team quit and you only get two new members. There couldn’t possibly be anything else to worsen your mood, could there?

“They weren’t at sign up because they were all at the boy’s volleyball practice-”

*que screaming

-------

It’s your last first day of high school and how do you spend it? pumping air into volleyballs all by yourself. 

Of course your friends offered to help but you sent them home with the excuse that they would be the ones playing with the two new first years in the practice match tomorrow. 

you sighed, your club didn’t even own a ball pump and you had to ask iwaizumi if you could borrow the boys’ one. 

you looked at the clock, 7pm already?

You made your way to gym 1, expecting it to be locked since it had been 2 hours since people had gone home, but on approaching you saw that the lights were still on and the door was left open. 

You peeked your head in just to see a ball fly across the court. 

It travelled through the air with such wind breaking speed that you almost thought that you had imagined it, but your eyes soon landed on figure moving at the end of the court. 

His head was focused on the net and even from where you stood you could see the sweat dripping from his chin. His curled hair stuck to the edges of his face as he reached into the trolley for another ball. 

You could tell that he’d been here practicing non-stop, with the amount of balls that were scattered at the opposite end of the gym and the sheer amount of sweat he was drenched in, it was plainly obvious. 

You had to give it to Oikawa, he was a hard worker. 

As he lifted his hand to strike the ball again, his eyes landed on you. 

your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh, well if it isn’t Y/N-chan” he commented, a cheerful smile sliding onto his face.

“Don’t call me that” You say almost reflexively, scared that you had sounded too harsh for someone who you barely knew and was just greeting you.

But it didn’t seem to affect him as he retained amused, his smile never faltering “Well can’t I be friendly with a fellow captain?” he joked, tucking the ball in his hand under his arm, “So what brings you here?” 

You pointed to the ball pump in your hand. 

“Ah, yes, i recall Iwa-chan mentioning you borrowing it, you can put it in there” he said, nodding at the store cupboard.

you gave him a small nod back and made your way to your destination, you couldn’t help but feel his eyes following you as you did and it made you uncomfortable.

After successfully entering the room and locating an empty space on the shelf to which you assumed the pump belonged to, you made your way back into the gym.

Oikawa stood at the edge of the court, right hand out, balancing the ball and his left hand supporting it gently. He began to run, his pace increasing each second and he jumped with such poise and grace that it almost looks like he was dancing. You watched as his back arched in mid air and his hand came up behind to slam the ball over the net and land with such force that it came back up from the ground and ricocheted off the wall. 

you couldn’t help but stand and stare. 

There was a reason why he was called one of the best players in the miyagi prefecture. 

“Hm, impressed?” oikawa mused, placing his hands on his hips.

You nodded, “it was impressive” hating that you were actually increasing this guys ego even higher. 

“Well, my personal motto is ‘if your going to hit it then hit it till it breaks’” he said taking another ball from the trolley and spinning it on his finger.

He must be joking right? i mean, who the hell has a personal motto? 

then suddenly, in the midst of thinking whether this guy was a total wettie or incredibly egotistical, an idea popped into you head. 

“Do you think i could try receiving one of your serves?” you asked, before you lost the nerve to. 

You saw oikawa’s eyebrow quirk up as he caught the spinning ball on his finger and held it in both hands, “Are you sure?” 

You nodded calmly but in you mind you were cursing him for under estimating you.

Oikawa shifted his weight to his right foot as he brought one of his hands up into a half shrug “you know I did say that my motto was “hit it till it-’”

“breaks- i know, and if my arm breaks, it breaks” you finished, leaving oikawa at a loss of words. 

He narrowed his eyes at you and for a second he looked- confused? intrigued? you didn’t know but the sudden loss of his signature grin made you feel like you were being...judged. 

“Well,” he began, composing himself, his cheerful smile returning again, “if you end up getting hurt, feel free to run into my arms and cry your heart out. i’ll make sure to kiss all your injuries away” and he finished off his comment by sending you a wink. 

Was it possible to feel annoyed, shocked and flustered at the same time? 

he began to walk back to the edge of the court and you took this as a signal that you too, should take your position in the centre of the other. 

You realised how much taller the boys’ net was, but would that give you a problem? nope. 

“Okay, ready?” Oikawa shouted and you took your stance.

Knees bent, arms stretched out and eyes on the ball. 

You didn’t see him hit the ball but you heard the echoing collision of his hand on the ball and before you knew it, it was flying straight towards you. 

Such accuracy, you thought as you dropped your torso and braced for impact. 

you felt the ball slam into your arms, leaving a stinging pain, jesus what is he a? machine? you brought your whole body up, pushing with your legs as the ball returned into the air, a perfect receive straight to the setter position. 

Across the court you caught the awe in oikawas face at the fact that you had actually managed to receive the ball. You couldn't help but feel smug. 

But you had no time to dwell because by the time you had stood up straight the ball was already curving down towards the ground. 

you began to sprint towards the net, trying to ignore the slight pain in your arms as you pushed yourself off the floor, your hand coming up to spike. 

Your head barely passed the top of the net as you jumped but you were able to slam the ball down onto the other side of the court.

When your feet made contact with the ground you heard a soft, “huh” from your fellow captain. 

“Well, colour me impress” Oikawa spoke, crossing his arms and looking you up and down with is tongue poking at the side of his mouth. 

You broke eye contact and began walking back to other side of the court. The way he stared at you made you feel like prey, stupid predatorial pretty boy.

“Can you send another one? and this time can you try to block it?” you said over your shoulder trying to cut him back down to size. 

“Sure thing, maybe this time i won't go easy on you” he chuckled.

You were thinking that. maybe he had perhaps been a bit kinder with his serve, but it still hurt like a bitch, might as well see what his full power could do. 

You fought the urge to rub at your arms as you took your position at the end of the court. 

You managed to actually receive the ball first try and not make a fool of yourself which you were incredibly thankful for. if not, you couldn’t imagine the amount of mocking and embarrassment you would have had to endure from oikawa. try not to fail again. 

this time the ball wasn’t aimed straight at you, it curved slightly causing you to slide to the right ( cha cha now y’all ) and drop to the ground. this time your right arm got more of the blow and you physically had to resist shouting out an ‘ow’ 

‘hit it till it breaks’ huh? he wasn’t kidding. 

immediately after the ball had went into the air, both you and oikawa had started your runs towards the net; you weren’t going to let this boy beat you.

Passing the line, you pushed your self up in the air again, eyes on the ball and ready to make impact. Due to the slight curve in the receive, it had less momentum which played to your advantage, now giving you time to think since there was now an obstacle in you way

oikawa had also pushed himself up, his arms stretched above his head, and his eyes strained on you with a smirk on his face. 

He was much taller than you were, at full height of your jump, you only came up to his chin whilst he towered above the net. He stood slightly to the right, exactly in front of your right hand that was prepared to spike- he had you cornered.

at least he thought.

Swiftly, your left hand came up as your right hand lowered and in that split second your saw oikawas smug face falter. 

You slammed the ball to the left, its path completely unblocked, sending it to the left where it bounced off the floor only a millisecond later. 

The two of you landed- silence. 

Oikawas head had snapped behind him, watching the ball roll off to the side. His head then twisted towards you, a look of surprised astonishment painted across his face. 

you raised your eyebrow at him and sent him a smile. 

the brown haired boy swallowed then stood up straight, looked you up and down then placed his hands on his hips, “you’re not what i expected Y/N ” he said softly. 

Because of the net between you, you hadn’t realised exactly how close the two of your were standing. It was only when you felt his breath brush your face did you decided to step back to save yourself from combusting.  

Although you couldn’t help but think of how handsome he looked up close. 

And how his eyes never left yours. 

It was your turn to swallow, turning around and making your way towards the door- you needed to leave immediately before he could say another thing that would make your heart palpitate, “i should go now, and you should too it’s getting late” you rushed out.

You reached the door and turned around, giving him a small bow, “thank you for the ball pump and the serves...” you awkwardly finished, sending him one last cringing smile. 

“It was my pleasure, Y/N-chan” he called out giving you a sending wave. 

you rolled your eyes and began to head out but paused before you left.

“Oh and, Toru-kun?” you called, a grin spreading across your face as you caught the boy freezing in his spot and staring at you with surprised eyes, “don’t underestimate me next time, okay?” you finished sweetly, sending him your own wink over your shoulder. 

When you were a good distance from the gym you allowed yourself to congratulate yourself on your boldness, that ought to put that egotistical maniac in his place. 

----

“Y/N-chan!” you hear someone call out behind you.

you walk faster. 

But it doesn’t help that a group of girls had stopped right outside your classroom.

“Y/N-chan!” 

You almost break into a run.

“Hey,” oikawa said, coming up next to you. It seemed like he had jogged to catch up and was readjusting his bag strap on his shoulder. 

You stop walking and he stands in front of you, “yes?”

“Well good morning to you too” he jokes, sending you a smile. 

“good morning” you mumble out. You shifted your gaze to see behind him, the girls were definitely watching now. 

“Was there something you needed?” you asked politely, eyes returning back to the tall boy in front of you,  wanting him to just go away and save you the embarrassment and the future interrogation that you knew you were in for. 

“Yes,” he said, looking down at you, “can i see your arms?” 

“What?” you sputtered out.

His smile lessened a little and his tone lost some of his cheeriness, “your arms, show them to me” 

You pursed your lips, you knew what he was asking for, but why? 

You slowly brought up both of your sleeves and held your arms out to him, you watched as his eyes widened and his face contorted into slight distaste.

both of the insides of your forearms were painted a brilliant shade of blue, a little more darker on the right than the left but they were both equally an eye sore. They’d appeared that morning and you realised that Oikawa’s serves were no joke. 

“Oh god, does it hurt?” he asked, taking your right wrist and pulling your arm closer to him. 

“Not much” you said casually.

“I’m so sorry Y/N I should've-”

“don't say sorry” you interrupted, your arm going slack in his hand, “i asked you if i could receive your serve, it’s not your fault so you shouldn’t feel guilty-”

“But that doesn’t stop me from feeling bad, does it?”  he said sternly, his face complete devoid of any playfulness and no longer baring his signature grin. 

You stared at him in stubbornness, not choosing to back down and act like a helpless damsel, but you couldn’t help but be touched at the fact that he cared. 

“i knew this would happen,” he let out, reaching in his bag and revealing a white pack of cooling pads.

Your heart began to warm at the thoughtfulness, maybe he wasn’t all that bad.

Or he had ulterior motives but he's innocent until proven guilty. 

You felt him lift your arm up and you blushed at the fact that he was still holding on to it during your little staring contest. He took one of the gel pads from the packet and brought it up to his mouth with his left hand. He then proceeded to bite down on the edge and pull his hand away, ripping the pack open. 

Oh, that was kind of hot. 

He then carefully placed the edge of the pad on the tip of your bruise, and once it was securely in place, he gently pressed on the rest as to not hurt you. 

You gulped, “I can do the next one by myself” 

“Oh don’t be silly,” he chuckled and he continued to do your other arm. 

As nurse oikawa tended your wounds you let your eyes rest on his face, gosh he looked so much more likeable without that god damn smirk (tbh he looks likeable with any face he makes) . This close, you could smell his perfume, with no doubt it smelt expensive, the scent lingering in your senses even if you turned away. You wish you could, you hoped terribly that you weren’t a messy shade of red and that oikawa couldn’t feel your racing pulse as he held your wrist. 

Once he was done, he let your arm go, allowing you to pull down your sleeves. 

“Thank you so much,” you started, “you really didn’t have to do that” you added again, can’t helping to let your eyes glance behind him where the group of girls where watching.

“It’s alright, i’m just looking out for a fellow captain, it’s what im meant to do right?” he smiled, the cheekiness creeping back into his voice.

you looked up to his eyes which were crinkled slightly due to his smile. You sent him your own one but felt your cheeks heating up so used the act of looking into you bag to turn away. 

“So how much?” you questioned, taking your purse out of your bag.

“What? no- there’s no need to pay me” he rushed, waving his hands out in front of him.

“What? I can’t let you just spend money on me like that, I’ll feel bad. now how much was it?” you defended, unzipping your purse and shuffling for a note.

“Nope, I won’t accept your money” he stated, taking your purse from you, zipping it up and dropping it back in your bag, “but if you want to return the favour in some other way...”

You face scrunched up in disgust, “you absolute-”

“Calm down Y/N-chan, not like that. unless you wanted-”

“Fine, what is it?” you interrupted, already getting annoyed by the smirk that was appearing on his face. 

“Practice with me some time” he said simply, his hands placing themselves on his hips as he leaned back.

you looked at his face, he wasn’t joking. although it sounded like such a plain request. Didn’t he have his own team mates to practice with? 

“When?” 

“Wednesday”

you nodded, “okay”. In other circumstances you wouldn’t have agreed so quickly but if this was the only way you could repay him back, you were willing. And besides, practice with oikawa might be beneficial, the only question is how long are you going to be able to put up with his antics?

“Excellent, so we have a deal then?” he said, offering you his hand. 

You looked down at it before taking it, “deal”

His hands were much bigger than your own but were holding yours with such gentleness that you couldn’t imagine that it was this hand that caused the bruises on your arms. 

you retracted your arms as you began to walk pass him, “thanks again, I’ll uhm, see you later” your head still turned to him as you walked away.

“See you around Y/N-chan” he cheered and began to head in the other way. 

You rolled your eyes at nickname and finally tore away from your eye contact as you heard him chuckle behind you. 

-----

“Since when were you and oikawa friends?” 

“What did you talk about?”

“I didn’t know you two knew each other” 

With much difficulty you had finally made it to your seat, the group of girls in your class who had watched pretty much the whole of your interaction with the volleyball captain had immediately surrounded you and bombarded you with questions as soon as you stepped foot in the classroom. 

“He was just asking about volleyball things, we’re not friends” you lied, trying your best to set your things out, the girls still gathered around your table. 

“You’re so lucky, you got to talk to him by yourself for a whole three minutes! I only get to talk to him with a bunch of other girls...” one of the girls whined, the others nodding eagerly in agreement. 

Well they believed that easily. 

“Maybe we should join the volleyball club so that we’ll be able to see more of oikawa”  another girls said. 

you couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed at this comment, now people wanted to join your club just for oikawa? 

but on the other hand you did need more members. 

“I mean, we’re always looking for new members” you let out, evaluating the girl in front of you, she was tall and you knew her to be a fast runner so maybe a wing spiker? 

“but then again i hate moving so it wouldn’t work. Sorry Y/N” she concluded, sending you an awkward smile. 

You waved it off, “it’s fine” 

“So what was he like?” another girl questioned, looking at you with anticipation.

You considered to tell them how much of an arrogant narcissist he was but seeing as you were not really in the mood to crush these girls dreams, you let out a “he’s nice”.

From the side, you heard a scoff. 

“Oh of course he is! he’s like, the perfect man” one of the girls stated and the others gave out a chorus of agreement as they made their ways back to their seats. 

“Nice my ass” 

Your eyes snapped to Iwaizumi who was leaned back in his chair, arms cross and looking at you with an expression of disbelief mixed with amusement. 

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “i didn’t want to break it to them”

He let out a chuckle, “so what did shittykawa want with you then?” 

you sighed, ready to explain your story, “when i went to return the ball pump he was there practicing his serves-”

“That idiot, I told him to go home” Iwaizumi snarled.

“Yeah, well he was there” you continued, “and i asked to receive one of them”

This statement caused iwaizumi to sit up straight and look at your with surprise, “and did you?” 

“Of course I did,” you said proudly, “on first try” 

“Wow” iwaizumi said simply, “how’d he react to that?” 

“shocked” you laughed, “then i asked if i could receive another one and if he could try blocking it when i spiked. He thought he had me cornered but i spiked it with my left hand and it went straight past him. You should've seen the look on his face” you smiled upon the memory. Extreme pride rising up in your chest at the fact you had outsmarted one of miyagi’s best players. 

“yeah he must’ve gone home crying thinking such a small girl defeated him, did he?” Iwaizumi snickered and you shrugged. 

“Anyways, this morning he came up to me and asked to see my arms” 

“Your arms?” 

“yeah, they were bruised like hell” you explained, lifting up your sleeves, “he knew that his serves would’ve done some damage so he bought me cooling pads” 

at this point iwa’s face turned stunned and you couldn't help but blush at the memory of oikawa holding your wrist carefully, ripping open the cooling pad and even just thinking of buying the pack for you. 

“are you sure that was oikawa?” he asked. 

You nodded, “im pretty sure” 

“hmm,” Iwaizumi pondered, “he’s a pain in the ass half the time but that was pretty nice of him” 

“Yeah,” you responded, starting to think more on the sudden kindness “it was” 

You looked over at the boy and you were shocked to find him staring at you with squinted eyes and his chin rested in his hand. 

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing” he stated, returning to leaning back in his chair as the teacher began to call the register. 

You too tried to turned you attention to the front but all you could think about was iwaizumi’s surprise at oikawas actions towards you. 

“Just looking out for a fellow captain”

or could it be...?

you mentally slapped yourself, thinking about how ridiculous that conclusion would be.

besides, he's just a useless flirt right? 

-is what you tried to tell yourself. but you just couldn’t stop gushing over how he stared at you, how close the two of you stood, how gently he held you. 

so throughout the lesson you had the same words repeating over in your head to try to get yourself to snap out of it.

he's just a useless flirt he's just a useless flirt he's just a useless flirt he's just a useless flirt he's just a useless flirt he's just a useless flirt he's just a useless flirt...

#oikawa x reader #oikawa #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tōru #oikawa tooru #oikawa fluff #oikawa imagine #oikawa fanfic #oikawa fanfiction #tooru oikawa #toru oikawa #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

aight aight, real shit; let's say you got the chance to rewrite the entirety of gossip girl exactly how you want. make a brief description of what would happen in each season. (you can decide whether there's a fourth season or not)

oh i LOVE this ask, and i am so flattered to be asked this, haha. i have SO many thoughts, i’ve been thinking about this non-stop, but i’ll try to be as brief as possible. also, disclaimer, i don’t remember all the seasons equally clearly. like i barely remember s2. haha, whoops.

season 1: i love this season as is, for the most part. i think the tone of it was actually very serious and involved? like the show was actively trying not to be frivolous with heavy topics, and the way we were getting to see the characters seemed like they were trying to bring out character depth and the complexities of their lives in very deliberate ways. nate’s whole thing with his parents gets so much focus, and it’s not something the show glorifies, it’s something that is meant to make you uncomfortable and worried for him. 

i would have nate be less of a dudebro, jenny & nate’s friendship being a little more solid, dan being a little more involved in jenny’s problems + helping her find her space, vanessa/nate to happen earlier - after nate breaks up w/ blair and realises she looks happier, i would have him not try and get back with her (lol, dude, the fact that she’s happy after breaking up with you means you probably shouldn’t be dating her.) more exploration of eric’s mental health. more dan and blair friendship. i would keep chair the way it is this season. i would not have a derena breakup - i’d have them take a break after the georgina reveal and get back together during the summer after talking about it and deciding to be more honest & open with each other. and, what the hell, i would have lily not blame serena (???) for being taken advantage of in the whole pete fairman situation. serena wasn’t sober, she was 16, that dude was in his 30s, georgina was taping her w/o her consent. how is any of this serena’s fault??? i hate lily’s reaction so much.

season 2: i... don’t remember enough of this season, sadly. it’s been too long since i watched it. i would majorly change jenny’s arc here, though. eleanor stealing her dress was majorly, majorly fucked up, and i think jenny should’ve done something then and there. also the whole thing with ‘lily is a mother to chuck’.... i would’ve loved it if lily had been like that to jenny. the girl needed it, and lily would’ve actually been able to help jenny establish connections in the professional world and whatnot. i think jenny should’ve transferred out of constance - not necessarily homeschooling maybe, but gone somewhere else. unlike dan, she didn’t even want to get into an ivy, she wanted to make it big as a designer. so. that. 

oh nate my love. i’d get this trainwreck of a boy some therapy. while i hate that the catherine thing happened, things like that do happen all the time, and i’d be interested in sort of handling the aftermath of it in a responsible way. i would not have... a lot of serena’s arc and decisions (from what i can remember) were really random in this season. i’d have her break up with dan at some point. and vanessa would need a new subject for her short film, and she’d choose serena.

nate doesn’t really date anyone, this season. but he and jenny open up to each other abt having gay crushes on people who treat you like shit - jenny’s thing with agnes - nate rescues her when they’re taking those pictures in her flat and let’s say she doesn’t go back to agnes. instead of kissing her, nate talks to her instead, and tells her about carter, tells her about chuck. and jenny talks about her feelings for blair, her feelings for agnes. and both of them sort of go... “it sucks, but all we can do is try not to become the kind of people we hate, right?”

dan pines for nate. majorly. massively. obviously. i think the only person who really notices is blair, and this would lead to new hijinks and shenanigans. also!! i do not want chair in s2. maybe it can go there for a bit but definitely not to the extent in canon. i want blair to have the same moment of being unable to deny her cruelty / needing to be accountable that she did in that ‘age of dissonance’ play. and. this sounds fucky but i want the dan/rachel stuff to stay as it is, and later, in s4, for dan & serena to talk about rachel & ben respectively and be like ‘hey, this was a fucked up thing to happen to us, wasn’t it?’ 

i would also like to get to know blair’s “minions” better as people. i mean. they all seemed hella fascinating to me, and the show’s decision to make them superficial and unidimensional was very depressing.

season 3: hot garbage, throw canon away. when chuck goes away to paris or wherever, let him not come back. goodbye, dude! dan, blair & vanessa friendship at nyu is so, so important to me. also im losing my mind always at how vanessa and serena catch dan on that walk of shame and they’re both like ‘college is a time for experimentation!’ and nobody does anything even slightly bisexual (unless you count that threesome later, which, blah.) a serenessa / date dynamic in college would’ve been great. dan transferring to columbia like blair does and rooming with nate and just, the gayness of it all. dan & blair become really, really close, and d&b&v watch movies + go to art exhibits together and are all SO DAMN PRETENTIOUS. serena finds it sexy, nate finds it terrifying. 

the william stuff would be interesting if he were actually held accountable. like that man has no right being a doctor, and medical malpractice needs to be brought up. and jenny’s whole arc this season makes me so sad. i think it would’ve been interesting if she’d been a ‘queen’ and ruled alongside eric, and just, the two of them forcing people to be nice, sort of like they try to do with people who are mean to nelly in s2 i think it is? but also.. jenny out of constance is very good, and i think i mentioned that earlier, haha, whoops.

season 4 : serenessa breakup, for whatever reason, probably to do with the william fuckery, because i think vanessa would react in similar ways to nate (”serena, i know he’s your dad, but we have to do the right thing” / “it still wasn’t your call to make” / “he’s a certified doctor, serena, a man like that has no right -” / “god vanessa, you really don’t get it, do you?” ). uhhh i would actually... if i had to choose i would honestly go blairnessa >>>>> dair. i love how blair & vanessa can keep each other on their toes and hold each other accountable. like? blair’s classist or racist and dan’s just like, *smiles*. vanessa would actively be like ‘hey, stop that.’ (this is one of the few actual criticisms i have about d/b as a relationship, RIP.) 

(edited to add: yeah, i think blairnessa WOULD be a sustainable relationship, more abt that here! )

yes to the milo arc, but dan gets to keep milo (his friends threaten georgina and go all ‘you made him sign the certificate. don’t make us take you to court’ because i love these morally grey assholes but also because g DID trick dan into thinking milo was his and dan was ready to reshape his whole life around that kid which is more than georgina was willing to do. plus endgame: jack/georgina are not parents i want milo to have.) i would also have more of a rufus & dan fallout over the milo thing. i think rufus would be really nasty about it all tbh.

the dair arc for blair and vanessa! let the juliet stuff happen, but let it be less awful + let it be seen as Bad + let serena get help & not forgive her for it. let serena NOT date ben after, what the hell. i want d&s to talk about their shared feelings for high school teachers and to realise, in retrospect, as adults, that what happened was crossing lines. let blair and vanessa suddenly drop dan and do the movies + galleries stuff on their own. and dan’s like ??? but he’s busy being a parent with nate supporting him. dan’s drama is very much parenting things. there would be some nonsense involving nate’s family pushing back, because ‘we stood by while you dated him, nate, we thought it was a phase. but raising a child with another man? this is unacceptable.’ i would like nate to get disowned by the family, and need to find his own feet. and to get a REAL SHOT AT HAPPINESS away from that terrible environment.

season 5: i want this to be a good serena season. let her find her calling doing creative things. let her and carter travel the world. let her just be whoever she wants to be. let her and vanessa patch their friendship up. let her have an open relationship with carter, let her have a lot of sex with a lot of random people and not feel guilty about it. let her really really blossom. i want more eric! maybe he’s in london with jenny, and she’s working on her fashion stuff, and he’s realising that he really wants to be a counsellor. 

some time-skips, maybe. i really want to see dan’s whole thing of being a parent. sending milo to kindergarten and spending the whole time milo’s gone on edge and anxious about everything that could go wrong, while nate comforts him. let nate try to get a job because he no longer has a trust fund, and navigate everything that comes with that. let vanessa be there for him. why the fuck am i phrasing my sentences like this - can you tell that i studied physics once?? oh well.

blair & vanessa handling a lot of things. vanessa meeting harold!! vanessa’s parents being disapproving of blair, but ruby standing up for her. blair & vanessa planning their future properly. blair & vanessa babysitting milo and talking about kids. 

and there can be drama too, there should always be drama. but i would like wholesome stuff at the centre of it too, you know? the ivy/lola nonsense can go on in the background, i don’t actually care that much. as long as ivy doesn’t go around fucking people’s fathers for no understandable or discernable reason, i don’t really care lkdhlfdkhg. (it was just so inexplicable and so random!)

season 6: uh, i don’t know. this was a bad season for everyone in canon, except chuck. i would throw it all away. i would actually love if we had pre-series rufly instead: every time those two bring up their past together i’m like 👀 because it sounds like a dream. or focus entirely on jenny and eric and their life. i am obsessed with jenny and eric being... sort of queerplatonic, sort of like, best friends. there’s no romance and no sex between them (eric’s canonically gay, and jenny’s a lesbian because i said so) but i think the way jenny and eric are is very, very life partners in a way that isn’t romantic OR sexual. so they’d have a little place together and would support each other. and just. what are they up to now? also. kati, iz, penelope, hazel, nelly... what r they doing now? one of the few things i actually liked about s6 as it was was that nelly was that reporter and that she’d found her people in yale. nelly yuki getting a happy and fulfilling ending and being a successful woman was so good and we actually got a little bit of that. i’d like more of that, for the rest of the girls, you know?

#anon #long post #this is almost 1.9k words long but it was fun to write LDKHLGKHFGKH #gossip girl #i know there's no dair i am so sorry about that #but honestly the way this was panning out i had to like #choose between dair & blairnessa #RIP #meta #?? #prompt #my writing #??? #gg rewrite

[jellydishes]

i was tagged by @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold with wip wednesday! tagging @the-temple-of-sacred-asses, @storybookhawke, and @robot-thighs

first up is a piece of Its Just A Jump And A Twist, an ongoing time travel story wherein a post inquisition leliana gets to go back and time to redo origins:

The first time this wheel had turned, a much younger Leliana had found herself weeping in a corner of their temporary camp barricaded behind bookcases. She'd had her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle herself so she wouldn't disturb her companions. It hadn't been the death alone that had twisted her belly up in knots until she had to cry or scream or else would burst with it, but the very act of being in the tower. Of wandering claustrophobic halls choked with blood and fear that had thrust her right back into a different place, a different torture room at the hands of someone who had sworn she would always be there to protect her. A fallen mage just within view through a gap in the barricade looked at her with Tug’s sightless eyes, and Leliana had retched behind her hands.

That was when cool hands had curved over her own, freezing Leliana's roiling thoughts long enough to lift her head and stare until the person crouched before her had resolved itself into Amleda Tabris. Amleda and her hesitant, crooked smile and the warmth of comforting words Leliana could no longer remember. She remember how warm they had felt, though, pushing the earlier chill in her chest back until she could breathe again. Amleda had always done that for her, whenever a chance-caught glimpse of red hair or some combination of words made the whole world shake loose beneath her feet, leaving nothing left but Leliana and old scars. And somehow, that space came to include Amleda, too.

And then it didn't.

Back then, Leliana had obeyed an impulse she couldn't have named at the time, one that moved her to brush her lips across Amleda’s in a soft, hesitant kiss. Had breathed out, once, then she realized. Remembered. And made to pull back and pull away because Amleda wasn't responding. Wasn't moving, wasn't speaking or laughing with her or doing anything but staring wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open. Leliana's hands had come up to wrap around her belly, and that must have been when some lever was finally pulled in Amleda’s brain, because she had lurched forward and brought their mouths crashing together again, and for the first time.

Their first kiss. A brief moment of beauty shared in a place of despair. And she was, the weight of decades pressing her into a floor that knew none of it as she stared at that spot. The ghost of flustered, shared laughter echoed in her ears. She could almost hear the quiet, nearly whispered, “I have enough space on my shoulders to carry one more worry, if you want to let go of it for a little while…”

A noise at her back, boots over loose stone and half-dried blood. Leliana didn't turn away. She should have, but at that moment she felt unbearably weary. Too much time had been lost that could never be regained, no matter what year she was in. Memories of dead women who still stood beside her, looking back and forth between the empty corner and Leliana’s dry eyes. Leliana opened her mouth, then let it fall shut. “Have I ever told you about that warden?” She croaked after several long moments.

“The one who died?” Amleda asked cautiously, and she had every right to, Leliana thought, not without irony.

“The very same. I saw-” Leliana's mouth twisted up at the corner in a poor imitation of a smile, or a laugh that never came. “Certain things remind me of her,” she said instead. “Sounds. Places. It is all too easy to…”

She'd almost said remember, but thankfully Amleda finished, “Imagine what happened? I know how that goes. Dangerous snare to go sticking your hand into, believe me. Start off trying to imagine what it had been like for them, if you could have stopped it somehow, and then it's fourteen years later and you've wasted more than half of your life trying to relive one day.”

Leliana’s throat tightened. Amleda was talking about her mother, Adaia Tabris. Adaia. Leliana was caught once again by another memory, this time of a red stripe etched across glittering eyes and down the angles of her cheeks, a hoarse, laughing voice promising to tell her children's children of what Leliana had done for her this night. A warm hand clasped around her wrist, in the way of warriors, and then she had been gone.

Leliana had never known if Adaia had kept that promise. Back when Amleda had been alive to ask, it had seemed too… self-serving to ask, as if she were trying to insert herself into a life that didn't need one more presumptive human, and then it had been too late.

Leliana closed her eyes, then opened them. “And, what do you do then?” She asked. Her voice wobbled traitorously, and she hated it in that moment. “When you've wasted your entire life looking backwards?”

Somehow, Amleda’s hand had found its way into Leliana’s gloved one, and there it stayed. Neither curling her closer or pulling away, and gradually Leliana relaxed. “You breathe,” was Amleda's quiet answer. “You get up and you breathe and you put one foot in front of the other until you can't do it anymore, and then you do it some more.”

“What if I can't? What if it stays with me all the days of my life?”

“Then you live for them, too. Get up and breathe and put one foot in front of the other, and if you can punch a pissant or four on your way down, then that's what has to happen. I certainly won't shed a tear.”

“How do you know?” Leliana was laughing all the same, and rugged free a questionable handkerchief to scrub at her eyes so she wouldn't have to look Amleda in the eyes.

“Because it's me,” Amleda said, and Leliana’s heart froze. “I carry my mother with me, the same way I carry Neleros and everyone who's come and gone from my life. Same way you do. We all carry our burdens. Mine just feel like an obligation. How about you?”

Leliana swallowed hard. In that moment, she wished for nothing more than a release from this conversation. “I hide,” she said in a voice that was so strained that it emerged as a rasp. “I seal the memories away in a box and bury it where no one, not even myself, will ever find it.”

A silence ensued. Amleda’s hand still curled loosely in her own, and Leliana couldn't bring herself to move for fear of Amleda pulling away, or turning into dust. Of none of this having been anything but the cruelest joke since the beginning. “I thought you said you were a storyteller.”

“I am.” Despite herself, Leliana turned a curious expression on Amleda, which was a mistake. Amleda was tired, streaked with soot and fluids best not thought on, but her eyes were fixed on Leliana, and she couldn't look away.

“Storytellers don't bury uncomfortable truths, do they? They remember the hard ones, too, the ones with barbs that rip and tear and hurt because sometimes hurt is what people need to realize they are still alive and able to fight and laugh and live. Battle cries from everyone who isn't alive to do it themselves. That's you. You wage war on their behalf, and you can't do that if you're too busy choking from swallowing your own secrets.”

Leliana stared at her until Amleda’s beautiful brown skin blurred in front of her. She let out a small, unwilling sound when Amleda wiped her tears away, and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss the corner of Leliana’s mouth. “Stick with me, we’ll get you remembering sunshine again,” Amleda promised. “That's what we do, right? We’re the heroes of this operation.”

second up is a bit of a thing for tma where gerry gets to meet his dad via even more time travel fuckery:

Gerry eased out a breath and drew in another that shook and rasped on the way down. "Look," he started to say, stopped, then tried again. "I'm not going to say that any of this bullshit equals out on some great cosmic abacus in the sky, but someone like you should have the chance to know that what you did mattered. And I don't know if I'm the one to do that. I never had the chance to know you."

Eric was quiet for several moments. "But you know yourself, right? You had the chance to learn who you are and who you wanted to be. That's what I want. Wanted, I guess."

"You're not listening." Something small and sharp and raw dug between his ribs and made his voice come out sounding odd to his own ears. He didn't know why he had this urge to make Eric understand, but he did. "I don't know if it was worth it. What's the point if small and petty people like her win and people like you lose?"

"You mean like us. But… you don't sound small and petty to me. You sound like someone who struggled and kept struggling but didn't stop trying, anyway. Hard to call a heart like that small." Eric fell silent again, his brow furrowing in thought. Then he added slowly, "I let her win, because I couldn't stop loving her. Seems like you beat me on both those counts."

#Dragon Age #The Magnus Archives #wip wednesday #sometimes i write

[xadoheandterra]

Title: Kismet; Lacuna Fandom: Dishonored Chapters: I Characters: Billie Lurk, the Outsider, Daud, Corvo Attano Tags: Time Travel, Void-fuckery, Post Death of the Outsider, WIP, Panic Attacks, Trauma, AU, Present Dishonored 1 Summary: He felt twisted sick, the air refused to stay in his lungs and his throat burned fiercely. He couldn't speak when for so long all he had were his words. He couldn't feel aside from cold familiarity that had been his life for so long...and his name--he knew it, it was there in the tip of his tongue, on the edge of his thoughts, and yet it was gone again. Taken from him. Stolen, yet not. The Void churned within him, but it was wrong. He hadn't felt like this in two years. He hadn't--this was all wrong. The Outsider was dead; he wasn't the Outsider anymore. Wasn't he?

Billie Lurk wakes up on her bed in the old Commerce Building ten days before her exile from the Whalers. She has a void eye and a void arm that only she can see, memories of events that haven't happened, powers she can't explain, and a connection to a boy who had once been an Eldritch whale deity whose name she knew but cannot speak, cannot think. Something had gone horribly wrong and the path of destiny irrevocably changed.

Corvo rested his back against the tower rooftop, lips pressed together as he listened to Emily make faint noises in her sleep. A part of him wanted to go into the room, to open the door and grab her and tell her it was okay now. He wanted to hold her close and fight back the nightmares that plagued her--but at the same time his stomach churned and his throat tightened and he started to panic. It's been almost seven months now--seven months since that day at the gazebo, since the blade pierced through Jessamine and the way the assassins clung to Emily--and how he could do nothing, suspended in the air by black magic--useless.

Tiredly Corvo scrubbed a hand down his face and turned his gaze up toward the sky. He raised his left hand and stared at the Mark there--the black lines so stark against the back of his hand. He blinked his eyes, and his vision switched to the strange void-gaze and he stared at his hand with these new eyes, stared at the way the Mark lit up, bright golden lines of voided light. Another blink and his vision returned to normal. Corvo clenched his fist and looked to the side, lips pressed thin.

Below, Emily's breath hitched and Corvo tilted his gaze downward, vision blinking back into that voided-sight so that he could check in on her--but she settled, shortly, and Corvo let the gaze settle back as he reached for the pen and sheaf of papers from within his pockets. With barely a thought Corvo tilted a knee up to be his temporary writing desk and began to scratch out his own thoughts. It was something he'd taken to in between the 'missions' these so-called Loyalists sent him on. With a grimace Corvo wrote his thoughts, his fears--everything.

For a while there was only the sound of his pen scratching against the papers, of the shuffle of the papers across his knees, and the faint sound of Emily's soft sounds in her sleep. Corvo wondered what Havelock would have him do next--who would Havelock command him to kill? He clenched the pen tightly as he thought about the Golden Cat, thought about the feel of blood between his fingers as he slit the Pendleton Twins' throats.  For a moment Corvo shuddered, stared at his fingers that looked to be covered in blood--remembered the cold fury in his chest, the sickness that burned within him at the thought of Emily--his daughter--being kept in such a place.

Had they touched her? Had they dared? His thoughts spiraled and Corvo forced himself to take breaths, forced himself to calm. They were dead and Emily was safe. Maybe not well, and maybe not for a while yet, but Corvo would see her there. He would see Burrows pay for it all--pay for what he did to Emily, pay for what he did to Jessamine, for the lies, for daring to even lay a hand on his daughter. The darkness, the cold violence in his heart surged up in his chest and the pen snapped in two between his fingers. Corvo stared blankly as the ink stained his hand, dribbled over his words and blurred them beyond recognition, and then sighed.

I'm sorry, Jess, Corvo thought, bitterly. He learned to control the violence for Jessamine, to direct it, hone it, better it until the violence that was his second nature at least didn't result in everyone who wronged those who cared for dead. He places a hand against his breast, against the Heart the Outsider gave him there, and for a moment he could hear her, hear Jessamine--

You were made for violence, but honed a softer touch....she...loved that about you.

Corvo's eyes burned as he took his hand away from his breast and began to gather up his ink stained papers with ink stained hands. Carefully he bundled them back into the pouches that they were stored in, and then breathed out slowly and focused his attention back toward Emily. Safe, he thought, hand once more to his breast.

She mourns still. That you have not spoken. That you leave her with strangers. She worries that soon she may lose you to the same darkness that she lost her mother. She cannot suffer it. She cannot lose a father too.

A sucked in breath and a shudder wracked Corvo's frame. He wheezed, and his throat burned from even that faint sound, and Corvo closed his eyes with a bitter turn of his lips and his heart crying Oh, Em with words he can't quite say just yet. Tiredly Corvo climbed to his feet, turned to head back to the attic to get at least some rest--who knew when the rest of these so-called Loyalists would demand his attention again, he should at least take an hour of sleep on the cot they'd given him, instead of sitting watch above Emily--and in the distance there was a visceral ripping, tearing, sour-note whale-song that made his Mark burn.

Corvo turned and looked out to the ocean just as a dark shape fell through the a void-shaped tear in the sky and landed into the water with a loud splash. The buzzing made his teeth ache even as it eased, and then faded away all together. With lips pressed close Corvo blinked and let the void-gaze take his eyes even as he began to climb down from the tower and head toward the rocky shoreline. He could see a figure, distantly, struggle in the water. Drowning.

The Mark burned and without thought Corvo took in a breath and moved, between one blink of his eyes to the next he landed in the water, near the struggling figure. He dived down and reached out to grasp in the darkened water, to grab a shoulder that struggled and twisted. He pulled and pulled the stranger up and out of the water, and then blinked back to the shoreline. He let the void settle back out of his gaze, tried to ignore the searing pain that bloomed behind his eyes, and looked to whomever he'd grabbed. He looked and saw--

Impossible.

Corvo's eyes grew wide as he stared down at a young face, dark hair plastered down with water, hands scrambling against a bleeding throat. It was a face he knew, younger, softer, with clear blue Tyvian eyes--but a face he knew. A face he'd seen from only within the Void, normally with the black eyes of a God, but here blue eyes of a Tyvian and--red from his neck, bleeding--blood. The boy looked panicked, stricken, gasping for breath as blood covered his lips and his throat and his hands that struggled--stone creeped up along the side of his face and one eye went dark and then the boy went still, eyes rolled up into the back of his head and Corvo frantically moved to check for a pulse.

A fluttering beat, faint, but there. A human with the face of the Outsider, bleeding out in his arms. Corvo shook himself, grabbed the boy, and ignored the throbbing of his head as he pulled on more of the Void, more of the Mark, and blinked. Piero, he needed Piero. He needed Piero now.

Billie groaned as she woke; her arm throbbed, her eye hurt, but that wasn't anything new. They'd been painful for a while now, ever since Emily came back from Stilton and the dreams started up. The pain had eased when the Outsider grasped her, infused her with the void artifacts that gave her back ties to the Void, a chance to use its eldritch magic once more. It hadn't gone away, still lingering at the edges, but better. Exhausted Billie rubbed at her head as she sat up, exhaustion pulling at her bones. That too was familiar. She'd been tired for a while now; the world going to shit in a giftwrapped basket would do that to anyone, really.

"Your up late."

Billie blinked and raised her head, suddenly stiff and surprised by the familiar voice. She blinked rapidly as she stared at the unmasked, blond faced asshole that was Thomas. Except Thomas looked younger, more fit than he'd been when she last saw him as she hunted down Daud. He lacked the extra scar across his face, hair cropped short as he looked at her with undisguised amusement. He looked--he looked better. Less worn down by the world, by Daud's decisions, by his own guilt.

"Thomas?" Billie murmured, and as sleep further left her she realized that this--this wasn't the bolt-hole she'd taken up residence in, in Tyvia. This wasn't the run down shack with barely standing metal walls that she'd been sleeping in for the past few months. Sure there was water stains, evidence of damage, mold, but it was familiar in that distant, nostalgic memory way. The walls were crumbling, but reinforced despite the damage. Functional. Safe. These were the walls of the Flooded District, of the old Commerce Building in Dunwall. These were the walls the Whaler's had occupied once upon a time, at the height of their power and abilities.

Dunwall, the Flooded District, the Commerce Building--every moment of bitterness and regret in those months after the death of the Empress, how the good times came crashing down with that shit show of a job, and then further tumbled into the gutter heap following Daud's obsession with Delilah and Billie's own obsession that led to her betrayal that led to her fleeing with her life--Billie swallowed heavily and let herself slip into the strange-between world with Foresight. She drifted away from her body, used the Eye, and tried to focus.

This wasn't a Hollow. This wasn't a dream either, because she could see Galia down the hall talking with Rinaldo. Aeolos training with Kent. Daud pacing in his office. There were river krusts outside, bone charms were littered around like candy and even a few of them sang sour-sweet of corruption. Billie let herself snap back to her body and forced down the rise of panic. She wondered were--and then her thoughts caught, stumbled over a name she knows. It was his name and he'd given it to her, a sign of trust and now its gone. Billie forced down the panic at that because--he'd been with her, before she woke here. They'd been together, in Tyvia, looking into the way the world had broken and now she was here and she couldn't even think of a name she knew and Thomas was staring at her.

"Billie?" Thomas asked, stepped into the room, and Billie knew she was beginning to hyperventilate but she couldn't help it because this was the Flooded District, this was Dunwall during the tied-second darkest moment of her life and she couldn't even think of his name and after everything she'd done, all the choices she made, knowing what she knows that terrifies her. "Billie, breath with me," Thomas said, and his voice was steady.

Billie missed Thomas. It'd never been like it was after she'd been exiled from the Whalers. Even when they ran into each other in Karnaca, years later, it hadn't been the same. There'd be a stiff politeness between them, a distance and forced understanding. They knew each other once, were family once, but now were strangers and yet--Thomas said something, asked something about touching and Billie wasn't sure she said anything but Thomas reached out and grasped her, held her close and Billie swallowed heavily and fought back the tears as she tried to breath, tried to quell her beating heart.

As her heart began to calm Billie realized she saw Daud. As her breathing evened out she remembered how he paced his office, just a floor above her. She recalled him in his last moments, white-haired and unable to breath, fading away until his heart gave out, alone on the Dreadful Whale. She hadn't been there, too busy following his directions and hunting down a knife to be there and she regretted it so much. That she hadn't been there with him. She should've been there. She should've--Billie pulled out of Thomas grip and drifted into Foresight, drifted up and dropped a mark, snapped back to herself and then let Displace drag her along the tether to Daud.

Faintly Billie heard Thomas curse, surprised when she left him without a word, but she had to see it. She had to see Daud, she had to know. Was this some cruel dream, some trick of the broken Void? Or was this real, was she here, now, when shit was falling around her and she couldn't comprehend how good she had it. The shards of void-stone shattered around her, coalesced into her shape, and Billie stared at Daud who turned and stared at her in turn, face pulled into a scowl that quickly began to morph into something like concern. He wasn't so old anymore, younger, scarred face and not-quite-going-grey hair cropped short. He'd been pacing, looking over maps and notes and she can see marked off charts--a map of Timsh's estate being the current prominent set of papers splayed out.

"Daud," Billie breathed out, shaken, and she couldn't figure out what Daud's expression was now, except that he took a step forward.

"What happened?" Daud asked, and Billie opened her mouth when Thomas appeared at her side with a transversal, wisps of shadow and smoke coalescing into his form and Billie--Billie almost broke.

"You're here," she said instead, and Daud frowned. 

Thomas must've made some sort of gesture because Daud's face gentled a second later and he took a step forward and said, almost gently, "I'm here."

For a moment Billie struggled with her words, with what she wanted to ask--she glanced to the map. Timsh's estate. Had he gone there, yet? How soon before the Overseer's come to the Flooded District? How soon before her mistakes caught up to her?

Hoarsely Billie asked, "What day is it?"

"The fifteenth of High Cold," Thomas said, just behind and to the left of her. Billie stared at the map. The fifteenth of High Cold; she wracked her memory for when events took place. It was the 25th of High Cold when Billie had been exiled from the Whalers, when Delilah sent Overseer Hume into the Flooded District to hunt down Daud. They were still preparing, gathering intel, about Timsh. Daud hadn't gone to the estate yet. The High Overseer had already changed hands which meant either Emily was with Attano or would soon be with Attano.

It meant Delilah hadn't marked her yet. She'd only did so when it became closer to the assault on their base. It meant Billie had time. She closed her eyes and repeated the date--fifteenth of High Cold. She still couldn't tell if this were a dream or something else; it felt less real. Her eye and her arm throbbed and Billie glanced to her right. It struck her odd that Daud or Thomas hadn't said anything, actually. She looked at her arm, she could see the way the artifact fused at the stump where her elbow would've been. She manipulated the fingers, then glanced to Daud and Thomas again.

"What happened, Billie?" it was Thomas who asked, Daud who looked at her concerned. "Did you hear something? See something?" A flicker of his fingers, and Billie narrowed her eyes at the gesture--something about rats?

"No--" Billie started, then shook her head. "--a dream. I think." She moved her hand again and Daud reached out and grasped it.

"Get me fisher," Daud said, and he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand but said nothing about it. Billie pulled her hand back even as she heard Thomas disappear in a transversal. "Debrief, Billie." Billie licked her lips, and when she didn't say anything Daud frowned. "Was it the black eyed bastard?"

Billie flinched, pulled away--she'd forgotten for a second Daud's contentious relationship with--how he thought so little of--Billie shook her head and opened her mouth to say no, to say it wasn't--but her voice stole away from her in the say way her thoughts stuttered over where she would normally have his name. Actually it worried her, how she couldn't think it, couldn't speak it--but she knew it. It was like the name had been stolen again, but not quite at the same time. Billie swallowed and turned her head to the side, frowned as she thought about it. She raised her left hand and rubbed against her lips.

How had she woken here, Billie wondered. When they were together in Tyvia--there was a bunk, they'd shared space in the dilapidated shack that they worked out of. Had--whatever happened done something to--if it did she would be furious. They'd grown close, the two of them. She cared for the little boy; he'd been fifteen; a child. No matter how long he'd been a Void Entity after that there was still the scared little boy who lost his name. Who died. Who bled out on a ritual alter as the Void filled him up and froze him and--Billie swallowed, and then reached into herself. Reached for--for that tie between--for what he did that connected them.

Was he here? Was that why she knew the name but couldn't think or say it? Did she even have the arm and the eye or was she just so used to them that she imagined it so? Billie dove into that connection and felt it there--strong, fluttering, terror and in a second Billie snapped back to herself and sucked in a breath. Something was wrong. Something sour-sweet in the tie between her and--and the Outsider. It hurt to think of him as such but he was and wasn't--she was and wasn't too.

"Fuck," Billie hissed between her teeth and then jerked when a new pair of hands touched her and she stared at Fisher who flashed a penlight in her eyes. "Ow, shit, stop that I'm fine!" Billie pulled away.

"Was he talking to you?" Daud said, voice low, dangerous, and Billie looked at him incredulously.

"What?" Billie said. "No, I--" She'd been focused. How long had she been focused. She glanced to Thomas and saw how he fidgeted, worrying his lip between his teeth. Fisher flashed the penlight in her eyes again and she flinched away; Fisher's lips were pressed thin in that worried way the woman got, eyes narrowed in concentration. "Stop that. I'm fine."

"You keep trancing out on us, Billie," Thomas said, voice soft, worried.

"I was thinking," Billie snapped back. "You should try it sometime." Thomas jerked back, surprised.

"Lurk," Daud said, and he used that tone with that name that had Billie standing up straight suddenly at attention. "You will submit to an exam under Fisher."

"Daud I'm fine," Billie tried to assert, but Daud would not be dissuaded. She could tell that from the stubborn set of his jaw and she sighed, heavily. "It was just a dream." When Daud stood taller, sterner, Billie reasserted, "It was just a dream, Daud."

"You will submit for an exam," Daud said, voice low. "I will not have my second compromised."

Billie sucked in a breath through clenched teeth but nodded acquiescence. If anything it would give her more time to think and figure this out because this--something was wrong with it, and she couldn't name what. Her arm hurt. Her eye throbbed. It was wrong.

#dishonored #billie lurk #daud #corvo attano #the outsider #fanfic #fic: kismet #fic: lacuna #wip

[imagine-loki]

The Slutty Webs One Weaves

Title : The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter NO. 8

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s Asgardian wife learns women write fanfiction about him on a trip to Midgard. She’s edgy for the duration and lets him have it when they get back.

Author: lokilover9

Rating: M

Pepper returned from the lobby to an edgy Tony. "Was Hannah down there? What took you so long to answer your phone?"

"No and I was talking to someone."

"You stalled to make new friends? I worried you were dragging said witch up here in a headlock."

"Wrong. Is Loki still consoling Brianna?"

"Yes."

Pepper dropped a mini bomb and Tony disconcertedly sighed. "He isn't going to like this." The couple appeared at the guest room door. "Hey, Little Warrior. Feeling any better?"

She nodded.

"Badass and I wondered if you'd stick around. Maybe Daddikins can conjure Mario Kart? I miss you kicking my tushy."

Virginia's nervous smile had Loki encouraging it and once Tony had Brianna distracted, they slipped out of sight. She conveyed returning to the Tea shop, claimed Hannah resembled an old friend and asked which direction she'd gone in. The cashier said she did a double take at something in the lobby, appeared as though seeing a ghost and dashed towards the hotel exit without her purchases.

Loki's face became a storm of tumultuous emotions and she startled when a snap of his fingers conjured a book.

"Should I have said nothing?"

He cynically chuckled, scanning the title pages. "Ever thought your God in heaven found amusement in bombarding your life with fuckery, like the Norn's do mine? The arm of his celestial robe hanging high while he mockingly inspires you with a goblet of mead? 'Rise up, Homes. I'm off for a shag with Mary.'"

"All Midgardians have."

"Have all dragged their only friends into Alice's fucking wonderland where the big bad wolf keeps hounding at the door? Excuse me, I'm intertwining fairy tales."

"Probably half. Are you okay?"

"Right as rain, girlfriend. Right, found it. I haven't used this spell on a child and need the right measurement of ingredients."

She nervously stumbled over a pair of small shoes. "A 'spell???'"

"To make Brianna sleep. Shhh. I must concentrate."

She watched, dazzled, as tiny bottles appeared mid air and part of their contents emptied into his cupped palm. Moving it in a circular motion, they combined like fluid sand, glowed a soft white, then faded into transparent flakes as the book and bottles vanished.

"Calmly return to the main room with me?"

They did just as Tony blundered a turn at Mario. "I'ma gonna givva you such a smacka, you cartoon pisano."

When Brianna laughed, Loki waved his hand before her face from behind. "Forgive me, Min Lille."

"D..dad…"

Tony caught her. "What's up with the magically induced coma?"

"She's better off." Said Loki, sharper than intended.

Stark situated Little Warrior while he paced, grinding a fist into his palm. There hadn't been time to process any definitive plans to apprehend Brianna's captors and discovering the fourth incited a rage only her reciprocated love had contained. Now, his nerves were stretched to their limits, forcing him to convey more than he wanted, risk finally reaching out for help and configure one. Fast.

"Scotch, Snowflake?"

He sighed heavily and stopped. "I must keep a clear head and so should you. The secrecy and lies, the hiding, everything I've done has been to protect Brianna and yourselves since the instant she graced my life. If I'm to continue, we need to trust each other completely. No matter how disturbing my information, you will make no inquiries, tell no one and from here forth, do 'exactly' as I say. Should you veer off course, we leave for real and you'll be fighting a dangerous battle alone. You may regardless if I can't contain Thor's rage over this."

"A battle with who?"

"This will hit home, Tony. Give me your word."

"It's yours, Pepper's too, right?" She nodded. "For insurance, she can text you a pic of me in a chastity belt. Hell, send it to Jimmy Kimmel. Are we good?"

"I'd rather you signed a wager to become a goat. How much longer is your suite booked for?"

"Another ten days."

"Virginia, pack for a week please? I need your help with Brianna at a safe house. Tony, contact your pilot. You're going home."

"Alex is in Aruba celebrating his girlfriend's breast implants. 'Why' Loki?"

"Fuck." He muttered. "Because I'm certain Fury's involved in Brianna's existence and you 'don't' want him up your shit when you aren't there. He was fucking Hannah and six and half years ago, introduced her and Jillian to Viriginia at his fiftieth birthday bash."

Tony slid both hands down his face. "I..shit..whoa. How do you know that and who's Jillian?"

Pepper frantically retraced her memory. "Jillian...was she the petite brunette with doe like eyes?"

"Congratulations." Loki replied. "You've also met Brianna's Mother. It's all in her diary."

"WHAT?!?" Said the couple, shocked.

"Save your questions! If Brianna's the reason Hannah bailed, by now the evil foursome knows she's escaped and you're aware she exists. Were I Fury, I'd be gathering my accomplices for interrogation, initiating a low key search for the four of us and putting eyes on the Tower 'and' Thor, where he'll find Astrid. Please, 'help me.'"

"Okay, okay. Can you teleport me back?" Asked Stark.

"No. Fury knows I have that ability. If S.H.I.E.L.D's watching and never see you enter…"

"What the fuck? You think they're involved too?"

"Oh my god." Said Pepper.

Loki tuned them out and conjured a bag of burner phones. "Book a seat on the next flight out in any class. Delete our past conversations and cease using your phones to contact me. If Brianna awakens, have her call me on one of these. I'll be back before dawn."

"You're leaving???"

"Yes. To relocate Astrid and warn Thor. Wish me luck he doesn't break New Mexico."

Loki vanished into a portal leaving the couple aghast.

"Well Butch, we're up to our eyeballs in another shit storm. I should've ignored the flu and gone with you that night."

She cracked a tiny smile. "Before or after you fell asleep next to the toilet?"

Tony nodded, observing Brianna in her slumber. "And dreamt Buzz Lightyear brought me our duvet."

"High fevers induce hallucinations. That was me in a white pants suit."

"You sure sounded like 'Tim The Toolman Taylor.'

He was doing it again. Comedically rambling off topic to cushion the blow of a truth that rubbed him wrong from every angle.

"Tony?" Said Pepper.

"Hm?"

"Promise no veering? I haven't trusted Nick since Steve found those weapons on the Helicarrier."

"None of us Avengers do either. I won't, he's too dangerous. With the ability to fuck us over worse than any accusations of harboring a missing child could. Virginia..this is bad. What more was in that diary?"

"It is, but we have to stay focused. A sleep deprived, frazzled Loki discovering we aren't ready, won't want to talk. I'll get our suitcases."

Tony followed. "Did you bring a warm coat? I'll bet he conjured that safehouse in the Siberian Tundra." ***** Loki first returned to their room to collect his and Brianna's things. Time was crucial, but before seeking Astrid, he needed to tune into her ring. Left on, it steadily recorded her and using a hologram, he rewound to the day he departed Asgard and quickly scanned through the mundane.

He watched her pained reaction to his note, heard hers and Frigga's spiteful words, witnessed their treatment of Thor, heard himself being defended, their following remorse and the lies conjured betwixt Mother and son. Although impressed by Frigga duplicating Astrid's ring, he wasn't in the mood for another presumed 'lecture on morality' and fast forwarded to them parting ways in Asgard.

Night after night, he saw Astrid entering Ingrid's bed chamber and once heard his Mother in law scolding a hidden Roddy from her doorway. "Doth's thou newest mistress prefer perfuming as well? Your stench giveth you away."

He'd have laughed if not for Astrid's tears, but when forwarding to the present, she wasn't sleeping at Thor's. His means of travel would remain portals and high on adrenaline, he arrived to gather her belongings and cringed at the sounds of lovemaking.

"That's it princess. Take your Kings tallywacker like a good girl."

'Norns.' Loki conjured more burner phones, blared the living room's television and Thor came running, cock at full mast. "Brilliant way to greet an intruder, dingus."

"Brother!" Thor exuberantly bellowed on approach.

Loki conjured a dagger. "Hug me naked and tallywacker gets beheaded. Where's Astrid?"

"At the Rosewood."

Loki frowned. "You let my wife, who hops realms on a fucking whim, stay at a hotel???"

Jane came rushing down the stairs in a Betty Boop robe and he arched a brow. "Hi, Loki. It's only for two nights and she offered to give us time alone."

Thor's smile faded. "I didn't hear anything in the guest bedroom. Did you bug our house?"

"Yes, brother. 'I', snagged a side job installing covert surveillance on Midgards superheroes. Spark another spliff and do cover your cock?"

Jane did with a decorative plate from the dining table. "Astrid's room number is 718."

"She won't be returning. Do not leave, answer the door, your calls, or open the blinds. I 'will be' returning, but briefly."

In a flash, he was gone and Jane looked up at Thor. "I can't call in this soon, my vacation just ended."

"Loki wasn't asking, Jane. Something's awry." ***** Astrid had risen early and after seeking ice, dropped the bucket upon discovering Loki in her room. Accustomed to wearing Midgardian attire, her blue jean leggings contoured her shape, highlighted by a white tank beneath a second of mesh knit. Her blond waves cascaded down her breasts and she looked so virginal without makeup, his loins ached.

"Hello, my lovely."

Unsure what Thor had conveyed, she hesitated approaching. "Hi. I would offer you a drink but..." She knelt to gather the cubes and hide a falling tear. "I hav..haven't any liquor."

Loki lovingly gathered her into his arms. "Astrid."

"Forgive me, Min kjærlighet." She sobbed. "I made you run when needing me most."

He kissed her lips and cheeks. "I ran for a multitude of reasons, but have left Brianna sleeping to come for you."

"You knew I was on Midgard?"

"Not until recently and you mustn't be angry with Thor for not conveying so. He stayed silent at my request, even to Jane and was oblivious to our location. You mean the world to me as does Brianna now too, but something's gone wrong and I fear you're both in danger. It would take too long to explain and there's so much I must before you meet."

"Then let's return to Asgard. Wouldn't we be safe there?"

"We can't yet."

She slowly slid from his embrace, confused. "Brianna's in danger, yet isn't with you or Thor. She's with Tony and Pepper isn't she?"

"Yes, my lovely, but you can't be angry with them either. They've been wonderful to her."

"I'm not, I'm sad again. Everyone knew about her before me. What does that say about 'us', Loki? Are we okay?"

He embraced her again. "Yes. Darling, Tony, Pepper and Thor knew of her before I did too and you knew before Jane."

"Really? Wait, Thor lied to myself and your Mother?"

"Astrid, please. He had to, they too might be in danger and Brianna will panic if I'm not there when she awakens. Come with me to a temporary location until everybody's situated?" Loki kissed her hands. "It means being shielded from Heimdall for a while. If not, Thor can..."

She hastily kissed him. "I'm not returning to Asgard without you."

Loki wanted to bed her until she wailed his name so loud, her voice cracked every window in the hotel. "Prepare thyself, my lovely. You're going underground."

While she checked out, Loki ventured to Alberta and created her a lesser version of their bedchambers in Asgard.

Astrid caressed the beds plush duvet of greens and gold. "You replicated everything."

He conjured her luggage. "I wanted you to feel at home."

She smiled. "I'll be okay, Loki. Go."

With a newfound determination, Loki returned to Thor. "I thank the Valhallas you've dressed."

"You've seen me naked before, brother."

Loki addressed Jane. "He was playing nude hide and seek in the backwoods with some maidens, late for another archery lesson. Our father sent me searching. Without appearing rude, may we please have a moment alone?"

She frowned at Thor. "I'll be in the garage inflating my bicycle tires."

Thor waited for the door to close. "You could've said we were teens. How have we been compromised?"

"Clever, brother."

"Are Brianna and Astrid safe?"

Loki nodded.

"Flying human and Virginia?"

"Not if Jane talks."

A loud growl from Thor soon had her running back inside. "Holy shit on a pogo stick!"

He was standing in the living room holding their heavy glass coffee table above his head with Loki in his face. "Throw that and it vanishes before landing."

"Then I'll break something else!"

"This is why I kept information from you! Think rationally, Thor. Your neighbors will post this all over social media. How will that benefit any of us?"

He gently placed it down. "Brother, he..a child?"

"I know, but please let me handle it my way?"

"She's your daughter. I respect that. What do you need from us?" Loki eyed Jane and Thor sighed. "Yes, you can trust her."

When he was done talking, she hurled on the carpet while Thor pondered murdering Fury.

Loki used magic to clean it up. "You have my instructions. No interfering."

"We understand, brother. Go." ***** After leaving the Savoy, Hannah had rushed to the nearest pharmacy and returned to her hotel, spitting sparks. "That lying bitch! Her little brat does have powers!" She checked out, checked into another across town and called her boyfriend. He answered from a plane on it's way to England.

"Hello, pretty lady. Did you enjoy your heart throbs play? Wish I could've come."

Hannah eyed the stolen silk tie Tom had used to bound her wrists the night before and deviously grinned. 'I don't. Hiddleston and I hooked up.' "Tom was amazing." 'With a dick that makes yours look microscopic.' "How was Mrs. Finkelsteins second facelift?"

"Useless, but she's rich. I bought you some new lingerie."

"Did you keep the receipt? I'm breaking up with you."

"Hannah, why? What will I tell my parents?"

"Life doesn't always work out as planned? Don't miss your connecting flight to Sweden. Bye."

She hung up, turned her ringer off and opened a box of black hair dye. "Now that I'm screwed, so are you 'Pepper Potts' and your billionaire boyfriend."

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #the slutty webs one weaves #chapter 8 #lokilover9

[irelise]

Fic “Behind the Scenes” - Alex Rider

Trying to dip my toes back into writing, so I thought I’d ramble about some fics I’ve already written! This started off as ranting about my title choice and how they’re usually Final Fantasy XIV songs I butcher in order to forcibly fit the fic, but it expanded into musings about things that didn’t make the cut into the final fic, and potential sequels/things that happen down the line.

Just doing Alex Rider fics for now since that’s my current active fandom, but drop me an ask if there are any fics you’re especially interested in from any fandom!

Starting off with: Time (2368 words, gen, Alex & Yassen focused) aka my untagged Inception-flavoured AU where the plot twist was that it was a dream all along That said, this title was probably one of the easiest to come up with and was obviously from the main theme of Inception, Time! Which is fantastic like the whole movie aaaa i love Inception AUs and this fic is probably the one I’m most likely to expand into longfic if I dredge up the motivation from somewhere. It would be a mission style fic, possibly a heist, where Alex and Yassen are seemingly working together in order to steal some valuable intel from another group. Of course, it’s all a dream! Through copious dream symbolism and mind fuckery the real mission was set up by MI6 for Alex to extract intel from Yassen, who by this point is steadily losing his grip on dreams and reality after months, possibly years, spent under sedation.

Yassen has a few tricks up his sleeve, though. He’s aware that he’s (probably) dreaming and he can see the fractures in Alex’s resolve after such a long time of being used and manipulated by MI6. It would only take a little nudge to get Alex to defect -- or, at the very least, to escape.

So while Alex is busy trying to extract information from Yassen, Yassen is trying to do the opposite: inception.

The rest below cut for length and also because they’re nsfw since most of my writing was for the kink meme! Warning for general fucked-upness and unhealthy relationships

at the end, on a dusty road  (8154 words, Yassen/Alex) aka the reputation sabotage fic, aka where’s part 3b?!

Title from Origa’s Polyushka Polye:

The wind scatters your brave songs Across the green field. Songs of the past, Leaving them alone with your glory, And right at the end, on a dusty road…

i just wanted something wistful and Russian about past soldiers and fading glory ok....... I came pretty close to titling the fic leaving them alone with your past glory but decided it didn’t make much sense out of context.

ANYWAY my first Yalex fic! Very much inspired by a hodgepodge of comments on Discord about how MI6 would react if they ever saw Yassen paying Alex visits in the middle of the night - “Could they be exchanging information?” “The whole night? Maybe the answer is something more obvious...”

ANYWAY the ending at the moment is pretty open - there’s two main ways I see it going:

1) Yassen comes back shortly afterwards, realises he had fucked up colossally, stays and helps Alex rebuild even though Alex (very justifiably) no longer trusts him. Very slow reconciliation and healing but ultimately happy ending.

2) aka the one where I broke Nanibun’s shipper heart over Discord: Alex and Yassen eventually reunite, but it isn’t until years later, when Alex is nearing middle age and Yassen has faded into obscurity. Alex managed to pick up the pieces of his life and even moved on properly from MI6, and now lives a fulfilling life. Married, 2.5 kids, white picket fence, the whole lot. So what if his marriage is more for partnership than for love? He’s content with the direction his life had taken and has strong ties to his community. He even managed to forgive Yassen, even though it took him a long time.

He and Yassen meet for the last time in a sunlit cafe in spring. Alex looks at Yassen and sees only a stranger with lines crinkling under his eyes.Yassen is getting old, he realizes. He thinks he should be happy that Yassen even had the chance to get old, but all he feels is relief that their paths had diverged. Alex is done with that life and he can never trust Yassen again. All that old passion had burned away to nothing, not even a flickering flame. Even though the initial parting had been painful, Alex had managed to find peace long ago, and he hopes Yassen will be able to do the same. But it's a distant, unemotional hope, the sort of hope you'd have for a distant acquaintance you haven't seen in years. The type of well wishes that are etiquette more than actual sentiment.

He's glad when their drinks are finished and Yassen melts away into the chattering springtime crowd, one final dangling chapter of his life closed at last.

.

...............or, 3) Alex throws himself into increasingly dangerous situations in an attempt to feel something and dies young.

(part 3b is coming someday i swear! it’s the alternate path where Yassen has second thoughts, tells Alex the truth, and doesn’t send the sex tape to MI6)

---

Lemniscate  (3562 words, Julia Rothman/Yassen) Not a whole lot to say about this one, except after I finished I realised it was really similar to another fic I previously wrote which also involved a young man desperate to reinvent himself completely being taken advantage of by his superior............ i have a Type

Title - I was jamming out to Locus while writing this which is a song all about an inability to escape from cycles - When fighting back right out of this system/Means falling back right into this space ; When falling back is better than simply/Falling back into pieces again  - but it was long and unwieldy so I thought about shortening it to Moebius but that was a bit overdone... In the end I settled with Lemniscate which is also an infinity symbol, Moebius-like shape. Mostly it’s a reference to how Yassen never quite breaks free of his “cycle” even though he’s with Scorpia now - he was Sharkovsky’s slave and bedwarmer and...now he plays basically the same role for Julia Rothman. (Just with a bit more murder and moral erosion!)

---

This probably needs a special content warning - major character death (gun suicide from the second Russian roulette scene), gore, necrophilia

closing the circle (3650 words, John Rider & Yassen) aka is it still a gen fic if there’s offscreen necrophilia?

This was originally written for a kink meme prompt for corpse mutilation + necrophilia but then the John and Yassen plot thread kind of took over and I never actually ended up writing the gory stuff oops since it was too out of place compared to the rest. So everything below can be considered not “canon” since the fic diverged so heavily from its original plan (which is why the section numbers skip around - I cut out Yassen’s bits). But if you’re curious, here’s the details for what I originally planned to happen to Yassen (well, his corpse) and the Sharkovsky family, copy-pasted straight from my notes and full of as much karma as I could stuff in:

Yassen’s death, Sharkovsky shoves his fingers in the bullet hole and spits on the body in disgust. Yassen regains consciousness halfway through this; he can feel what Sharkovsky is doing

Ivan comes running in, attracted by the sound of the gunshot. Sharkovsky tells him to do what he likes with the body as long as it’s disposed of in the end. Necrophilia scene? Afterwards Ivan disposes of the body by locking it in the cellar alone with the Dalmatian for a few days

Yassen starts getting his revenge. Ivan is the first to go when he comes to let the Dalmatian out – the Dalmatian savages him and tears out his throat before it’s finally shot. Yassen’s bones get buried along with the Dalmatian. Ivan’s body is kept in the cold storage room in the basement where they kept the old food taster’s body while they decide what to do with him.

Maya, Sharkovsky’s wife, is next. She passes away in the middle of the night. Sharkovsky wakes up next to a cooling corpse.

There are whispers that there is some sort of curse. One of the maids talk about finding blood on the carpet of Sharkovsky’s study. She’s the next to disappear. Some other workers stop turning up.

Finally it’s Sharkovsky’s turn. He dies of poison. The dacha burns down that same night.

A Scorpia agent was sent to tie up loose ends (Scorpia didn’t know Sharkovsky is already dead); Yassen kills him too. He has no loyalty to Scorpia and just wants to be left alone.

Hunter is sent to investigate. He and Yassen talk, in the end, Hunter invites Yassen to come with him, Yassen agrees. But when they leave the dacha and Hunter looks back, he finds that Yassen is gone.

And an excerpt:

Yassen is dead. He does not remember dying. There are some things the human mind tries to shield itself from, and the memory of a bullet traveling through bone and brain to erupt on the other side in a shower of gore is one of those things.

Yassen is dead. He had hoped death would mean oblivion. At his most naïve and optimistic, he had hoped death would mean reunion. Happiness. A return to simpler days.

He discovers, instead, that death is not so different from life, except he is even more powerless now than before.

There is a body on the floor of Sharkovsky’s study. Its hair had once been pale white-blond, but now it is matted with coagulating blood. That same blood spreads in a dark pool against the carpet, clotting the fibres together into ugly clumps, stiff and flaking. The fire in the hearth is still burning sullenly. Its light glistens against the grotesque strands of viscera splattered against the ground, the furniture, the wall. A round hole had been punched into the side of the corpse’s head, piercing bone and brain. That was how the man who had once been Yassen Gregorovich had killed himself. The fingers of the corpse remain loosely curled around the old-fashioned revolver that had been the instrument of death.

The only living person in the room rises slowly from his wheelchair. Sharkovsky’s skeletal face is twisted into an ugly grimace of anger. He totters over to the corpse, nudging it with the tip of one polished leather shoe. “Waste of time,” he says coldly. “Ruining a perfectly good carpet, and for what?”

In a sudden fit of temper, he lashes out with a kick. Once, it would have been strong enough to break several ribs (Yassen knows from intimate experience). Now, the corpse merely flops limply to one side. It incenses Sharkovsky further. He drops heavily to his knees, breathing harshly, and backhands the corpse across the face with one shaking hand.

#fandom: alex rider #My writing #meta

[ranger-report]

Review: THE WITCHER 2: ASSASSINS OF KINGS (2011)

With the first Witcher game under my belt, I decided to plunge straightaway into the second game in the series: The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings. Expecting little beyond improvements in graphics and controls, I was very curious to see how the game delivered on the cliffhanger ending of the first game, in which Geralt of Rivia defended King Foltest of Temeria from a would-be assassin, only to reveal that the killer was also a witcher. I’d had a decent time with The Witcher: Enhanced Edition, particularly in the storytelling aspects and the choose- your-own-adventure narrative, but had found myself frustrated by dated game design and graphics and lackluster combat. Still, it was, by the end, an arresting experience that had captured my intrigue enough to make me want to go back and replay it to see what paths I could have chosen. Choice is truly the number one aspect of The Witcher, in that Geralt generally chooses not to choose sides, but is often found forced into doing so. Choice is also the highlight of The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings, so much so that by the end of the game I was nearly horrified with how all of my decisions, ambient though some of them were, had stacked into a neat pile of awful fuckery. If you want to feel good about what you’ve done by the end of a game, The Witcher series might not be for you. But if moral ambiguity and robust, branching paths are what you seek, then read on dear reader, because things are about to get immediately messy in what is some ways a vastly superior sequel to the first game, but in other ways falls short of the narrative potential established by its predecessor.

From the start, Witcher 2 is once again a big game of Choose Your Own Adventure. Opening with a prologue establishing Geralt’s involvement in a political assassination, the player is continually given agency over where Geralt is going, what he wants to do, and how he is going to do it. This is at once the game’s biggest strength. Just as in the first game, Geralt’s choices have domino effects that tumble down the slippery slope of lesser evil decision making, affecting what characters do and whether or not they might appear elsewhere in the game. And, furthering the CYOA aspects, certain portions of the grander story are hidden from sight should Geralt choose to go down a different path. Maybe some characters will have happier endings than we see them get if Geralt decides to help them instead of quest elsewhere -- maybe not. Perhaps the biggest departure from the previous game’s style is that the entire second chapter of Witcher 2 is different depending on which side of a conflict you choose to enable. This, of course, is also all based on whom you’ve sided with previously, with deft moments of quick situational judgements, some of them timed. Give the elven rebel his sword so he can defend himself, or push him to the side so you can leap into the fray yourself? Not every decision is placed in front of the player as a monumental choice; some of them are as simple and clean as whether or not you pick up an object in front of you, knowingly saving someone’s life. This makes the world -- and the story -- feel surprisingly alive, vibrant, always on edge as though the lightest touch in any direction will spell consequences for some and reward for others. This does, however, create a shorter gameplay experience overall. Where my full playthrough of the first game was close to fifty hours, I clocked in just over thirty hours here, but this is partially because the full content of the game cannot be seen in only one playthrough. There’s a massive amount of game to be held, but the unfortunate reality is that it can only be seen piecemeal. It’s like getting to the end of an actual Choose Your Own Adventure novel, only to realize there’s a vast amount of pages left unread because you didn’t take the roads less traveled...or simply traveled differently. For better or for worse, the first time through this game will leave the player with the sensation that there is a lot that they didn’t get to see, despite the freedom of branching paths being thrilling and adventurous. And the story itself isn’t nearly as investing as the previous game. Geralt’s adventure in clearing his name of wrongdoing and tracking down his memories are at the forefront of his story, but in the background is a complex, political plot that simultaneously is and isn’t important to follow. Decisions made by Geralt heavily affect what’s going on, even as Geralt himself is constantly growling about how he wants to track the kingslayer and a missing friend. But the game and the characters populating it continually drag him back to the fray because they need him, dammit, and if he wants the means to his ends then he’ll have to endure everyone else’s shit. Perhaps that’s the point: Geralt’s actions continually change the entire world around him, whether he wants to be a part of it or not. That said, the straightforward narrative is defiantly strong here, partly because the branching system demands it need be. This is a Story with a Purpose, the Purpose being to establish a series of unfortunate events happening around Geralt, if not to Geralt. But when it’s as bland as it is -- save for the bits where Geralt is trying to clear his name -- it can be difficult at times to maintain a steady pace. And the entire third act takes place in a ruined elven city which is a chore to navigate, nearly ruining the momentum and the whole of the game’s experience; there’s two disasterously difficult combat engagements to wade through as well as a grating boss battle with a large beast, not to mention a magical puzzle which demands navigating the labyrinthine ruins if you want to discover what it is. And yet, by the end, the house of cards comes tumbling down into the awful realization that everything behind the scenes has been doing its utmost to raise the stakes high enough to win the whole pot, and depending on Geralt’s actions, it does so to varying degrees. I sincerely doubt there is anything close to a happy ending in one of the alleged 16 conclusions the game contains; if anything, it can only go from shitfucked to fucked-with-hope-on-the-horizon. And, despite the sometimes slog, that’s effective.

Gameplay has seen a heavy upgrade. Gone are the original title’s point and click controls, replaced with a more intuitive interface that relies heavily on action and exploration. Similar to Arkham Asylum’s Detective Vision, Geralt can use his medallion to scan the world around him for interactive elements or objects to search through. Neat in concept, but oftentimes the execution is lacking; it can be incredibly difficult to find objects on the ground left by corpses without always using the medallion, as they can get lost in the surrounding scenery. Upgraded, too, is the combat, which is thankfully no long a boring fucking exercise in clicking at the right time to string together combos. Geralt rolls, swings, magics at the click of a button, using the WASD and mouse camera to keep an eye on the action. The triple division of combat styles -- fast, strong, and group -- are replaced with a fast and strong attack bound to the two mouse keys, and upgrades can make it so Geralt’s attacks can hit multiple people. Blocking is integral, but Geralt needs vitality for a block to be effective, or it will chip away his health. I both enjoyed and did not enjoy the new combat system. It’s functional, but I couldn’t help but feel out of control in tense moments, attempting to roll or dodge or block or use signs between sword strikes. Geralt only swings at whoever he is targeting, not simply in front of him, so if you accidentally turn the camera to the wrong angle while trying to attack he will swiftly turn and swing at someone else entirely, leaving him open to devastating counterattacks from behind. Frustration can mount quickly, as it seems that Geralt is a whole hell of a lot squishier this time around than in the first game. Sure, the first Witcher had plenty of moments where getting overwhelmed could happen in the blink of an eye and Geralt would turn into fresh meat, but Witcher 2 makes every sword fight feel like an exercise in dodging just to stay alive. Maybe I wasn’t playing with enough patience, but it felt like I spent more time rolling and running to regain health than I did connecting with satisfying blows. Sometimes, quicktime events pop up during major boss encounters, which are devastatingly difficult in needless ways. Just like in the first game, Witcher 2 will absolutely dial up the volume on the difficulty knob without warning and around an unseen corner, to an extent where I found myself pained by exhaustion and anger at yet another GAME OVER scene. This is compounded by the strenuous camera, which is awkward at best in outdoors environments, frustratingly awful in close quarters hallways. Making things even worse is the game’s departure from the previous healing methods in The Witcher: where potions could be downed on the fly, and food eaten to regain mild portions of health, now the only way to heal is potions while meditating, or simply by meditating. Without the ability to heal in the middle of combat the thoroughly aggressive enemies will stymie even seasoned players as they watch their health bar helpless disappear with no respite.

Graphically speaking, this is leaps and bounds better than the original. High-detail, crisp textures, far draw distances, I very rarely had any stuttering or framerate issues. At worst, there was minor pop-in and fade in, some seams showing where textures were laid out, and jittery models here and there. Also, motion blur and bloom were turned on by default. Never fun. It was an absolute job to take in the world on hand, with the variety of monsters and humanoid characters to encounter, lovingly rendered with tons of color and flair. Outside of the story, this is where the game truly shines. Before there had been low-res models being reused left and right, but here nearly every character model (outside of factory-line soldiers) feels unique enough to recognize in and out of combat. It’s really a fucking wonder to behold. It felt the same as the graphical leap between Uncharted and Uncharted 2, with nearly an overwhelming amount of detail in the world to take in, dizzingly put together in a way that is breathing and living.

That said, is the game actually an improvement over the first title? Well, yes and no. Graphically, interactively, yes, to an extent. The branching narrative is bold, but feels like there is so much you’re missing out on once you’ve chosen a particular path. For example, there’s a dragon that exists in the game, and its origins are shrouded in mystery. I only discovered them based on a trophy I got at the end of the game, which felt like a huge cheat to learn that way. If the game had told me something about the dragon’s nature, even down the path I took which actively led me away from the dragon, then I wouldn’t have felt disappointed, but it didn’t. I learned the answer through a trophy. And in many ways, while this game does things better than the first game, it’s only to slight degrees, and while I do want to go back and play this again, it’s difficult to do so after a somewhat disappointing first run. Geralt’s story was excellent, and kept me on the edge of my seat whenever it came around, but everything else that happened felt largely disconnected from what was driving Geralt this time around, and ultimately only served as setup for the third game in the series. Again, perhaps that’s the point: perhaps Geralt will have to face the weight of his decisions, that which defines the world at large whilst he maintains a selfish lean towards his personal goals. Geralt of Rivia both is and is not the most important person in this story -- he is but one man who is forging a path towards his wants and needs, but maybe he’s crumbling kingdoms along the way, intentionally or no. While I’ve heard nothing but Game Of The Year praise for The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, I’m keeping my expectations tempered based on this sequel, which is fun and daunting and clever, but the drawbacks are hefty, saved only by the draw of the lead character and the living story itself.

Final Score: 7.5/10

#the witcher #the witcher 2 #assassins of kings #cd projekt red #andrzej sapkowski #geralt of rivia #triss merigold #yennefer of vengerberg #dandelion #zoltan chivay #ck burch #review #rubyranger #steam #enhanced edition #long post #ranger report

[emperor-of-blood]

Aight so I guess I’m doing a session review?/Prediction?/Analysis of how I think @neonwolfeh session might go.

So starting this off with the premise:

It’s a normal session with no specific prototyping fuckery or trolls or whatever. and I got some brief character summaries:

Ross, Heir of Doom: Ross is a jaded, angry guy who just wants to have -One Good Daytm-.

Luca, Rogue of Life: Pretty upbeat, tries to make the best of every situation (and does not succeed). 

Kase, Seer of Rage: Fuckin edgelord, thats p much it. Full of hate and will say slurs. 

Abby, Witch of Hope: Basically a shoujo anime protagonist, awkward and peppy and sweet. 

Odin, Prince of Time: Embodiment of nervousness and jumpiness. This guy needs a nap and a hug.

Niko, Knight of Space: Like Dave Strider if he was as suave as 2012 fanon interpretations said he is.

And now for my takes on them:

So starting off my initial impressions of the session are complete failure, mostly based on one thing. Odin, the Time player. While he sounds decent enough of a guy you have to understand the reason that every session requires a Space and Time player to succeed. Technically speaking, only a Space player is needed to overcome the wall of creating a new universe. The Time player is needed because the game is just that hard. The image I get of Odin is that he won’t be actually doing much Time traveling, likely too weak-minded to believe that he could pull things off. A lot of pressure would be resting on his shoulders and he needs to answer. As I said in my Patrick Star analysis, I believe that he’s going to be wasting a lot of Time. For different reasons here though, he’s still destined to procrastinate. That is likely going to get people in his session killed. Sburb is hard and everyone involved needs to be doing their part to beat the game. 

My analysis doesn’t end with that though. We still have 5 other players to throw into the mix! Moving onto I’d like to talk about the cool cat Niko, the Knight of Space. So inherently here we have a contradictory classpect. The Knight is a protector, in their session they are supposed to cooperate with their Space player to breed The Frogtm. They are meant to be a companion. The Space class is one of solitude, barring their frog breeding partner. Space is a vast domain and both Jade and Kanaya spent most of their time alone. It’s one of their themes. They spend time worried about the bigger picture that with the smaller problems that their teammates deal with. Likely, they are very alone. And that makes me wonder, how much of the “Cool Guy” is real and how much of it is, well, him being lonely? Or a defense mechanism because of that? Keep yourself distant and aloof because that’s where you’re going to end up anyways. No reason for people to get hurt, sort of deal. 

Next I wanna talk about Luca, the Rogue of Life. I imagine her as the kind of person who is peppy to the point that it makes people uncomfortable. Trying to bring Life happiness to all of her friends by being a never ending source of sunshine. Which is all well and good, these types of people are well liked and a party falling into the traps of depression is likely to fail. That being said, I can’t help but believe that her failures come from her unending sunshine. Sometimes people just need to be sad. Life has it’s ups and down and that’s natural. People probably feel exhausted around her, much to her dismay. You must go down to rise back up. I feel like she’s probably Odin’s self proclaimed best friend and also a main source of stress for him. “You can do it!” is encouragement (He probably sees it as empty/naive), not useful advice. Her being unable to see that has got to be one of her personal challenges. She’s not responsible for rewriting everyone’s lives or fixing their problems. Those are not hurdles for her to overcome. I feel like every Rogue has some weird interaction with their aspect. As one who steals Life/steals from Life I don’t think it’s meant to be taken literally. She ain’t sucking out peoples souls. I’d say she maybe has an aura of demoralization for her enemies, kind of like a mental attack? Or it could be something more direct like absorbing Life essence through contact or something. Like a magic drain attack similar to the androids from DBZ or some equivalent. The stealing from Life is maybe... just a literal item teleportation ability? Like an actual Thief Rogue. Beyond that, she can probably bring people back to life once just like every other Life player ever.

Ross the Heir of Doom is, well, kind of a loser. but he doesn’t have to be. His main challenge is going to be realizing that his “One good daytm” isn’t just going to randomly show up. It’s something you have to work for. Once he does, he’ll probably be fine. Weirdly enough the fucking Doom player is likely the most competent out of everyone, which is really funny imo. His powers are uh. Well. One who inherits Doom/is protected by Doom. I’m shooting in the dark here despite there being a canon Heir of Doom. I’d say he maybe influences enemies to fight each other? At least early on during the passive protection phase. Later on once he awakens his powers he might be able to suck “Bad vibes” into himself, weakening his enemies and strengthening himself. That might be leeching into Thief territory but I wouldn’t know what else to say here honestly. Maybe he can fix things? Inheriting the Doom of something and taking the damage into himself? It’s up for debate.

Moving on to Kase, Seer of Rage. The dude’s probably a complete asshole. The kind that you question why you’re even friends with them. Probably racist but also hates people in general and claims that it’s OK because of that. Probably gets along really well with animals because of that too. He’s probably feeding into Odin’s insecurities, which, might actually be helping him stay until he’s really ready to time travel. But that’s not Kase’s intention (Ask him about it afterwards and he’ll claim otherwise forever.). He just want’s to be a dick and thinks being edgy or ironic is cool. As on who understands Rage he’s likely well aware that it can be useful in the right scenarios. Maybe he lets himself get taken by the berserker Rage at just the right moment and come back down afterwards. But he hasn’t really come down. You can’t just have a heart filled with Rage and hate and be a normal person the rest of the time. He can probably tell when it’s time for others to let loose as well. But likely has trouble convincing them. 

Kase and Ross probably get along really well.

Finally, we have Abby, the Witch of Hope. Honestly? She sounds really basic. She’s gotta be the most “Normal” person out of the bunch. Which, when your surrounded by weirdos, is a good thing. Everyone needs someone sane to fall back on and that’s definitely her. I imagine that’s how she manipulates Hope, just giving people some reference, some piece of mind, that they haven’t gone off the deep end. Or maybe that the have and need to rethink things. She’s probably the one that’ll help Odin figure his shit out. Maybe she drafts up a plan of events he should change. Then in the new timeline he seeks out her help again and repeats this until he can do things himself. While I don’t see her as the leader of the party, she is likely the anchor. She also probably will play a bog role in everyone else figuring out their shit too. Telling Ross to shut the fuck up, Kase to man up and do something, Luca to do something productive, Niko to call her when he the loneliness starts getting to him, just to talk. Her challenges likely revolve around realizing how important she is. After all, she’s just a shoujo protag, what can she do? Everyone is out there killing monsters or solving puzzles or hacking their alchemists. Ans she’s just a plain Jane. But that’s what makes her special. Her powers are probably basic hope lasers and maybe being good at giving speeches. 

So with that out of the way how would the actual session go? Well, I think there’s a lot of fighting. I imagine Kase wants to be the leader being the “Only one capable of it” and he’s not exactly wrong. But he’s also insufferable. So it doesn’t matter that he’s competent because nobody wants to listen to him. The only other options are Luca who everyone also likely can’t deal with for extended periods of time for previously stated reasons; or Niko, who is likely to busy with their own shit to also manage the party. So I think everyone has to meet up and decide that it’s probably best for Kase to be leader and that everyone should just agree to follow him and give him some advice where they can. Kase is probably actually competent. He’s likely a bad leader but an even worse follower. I can imagine him just ignoring anyone else as the leader and going off to do his own thing and fucking shit up. With him as the leader, not causing trouble and everyone else in a kind of, secret alliance I guess, the key players are going to be Odin and Abby. Odin needs to be able to fill his role or everyone dies. Simple as that. Abby needs to a) help him figure his shit out if he can’t on his own. And b) help ground everyone else (So they can solve their problems) and keep some semblance of sanity. If they can, there’s a solid shot at victory. If Odin dies before he can Time travel, well, I guess that’s that. There’s a lot of personal challenges to overcome based on a character’s classpect and I think it really comes down to, are these people/characters capable of growth? 

Hopefully the way I viewed the characters was how you wanted but with so little to go on I might have misinterpreted somethings. Either way this was fun!

#homestuck #prince homestuck #time homestuck #homestuck time #homestuck prince #homestuck rogue #rogue #rogue class #rogue of life #seer of rage #prince of time #witch of hope #Heir of doom #mituna #knight of space #classpect #prince class #classpect analysis #homestuck classpect #analysis #homestuck analysis #sburb #session analysis #homestuck fan session #fan sburb #heir #heir class #seer #seer class #witch

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 118 Thoughts

Zeke gets shot, Falco gets a hug, everyone who makes sense is out of jail, and for a brief time, everyone is united in being perfectly fine fucking Marley right the fuck up.

Minus the characters who live there.

But all told, for the first time in months, it’s a happy chapter. :)

:)

:)

In a rare turn of events, I think I’m going to specifically aim to talk about things out of order. I say this with no real sense of how I usually construct these posts, I just make blanket assumptions about how they’ve probably gone in the past without corroboration.

SO WE’RE GOING TO TALK ABOUT CUTE KIDDOS HAVING FEELINGS AND BEING DUMB.

The ones who aren’t legal adults, to be clear on the definition of ‘kiddo’ as used here.

Falco.

Gabi.

You get to go back to the hellscape that is your brainwashed existence, I’m so happy for you both.

The complications of Falco and Gabi fighting so hard to return to a world that doesn’t give a damn about them are things that... honestly, I just don’t want to do that this month. It’s a disaster. Marley’s fucked. Paradis is fucked. No one cares about the right things. Every decision is going to blow up in everyone’s face.

But Falco gets a hug from his big brother.

The youngest characters we’ve followed through this are treated with kindness.

This whole chapter is a breath of relief in the sea of unending horrors that we’ve been dragged through to get here. More on the rest later, but for the moment, we’ve got the two little ones.

Nile doesn’t even hesitate to treat Falco as a child before an enemy.

In the outside world, a man Falco tries to help is scared of being touched by him because he’s an Eldian.

Sasha’s family is still worried about the two little Marleyans they picked up and lived with for a time.

After first contact, no one needs to tell Colt not to shoot Nile. He calls the man who hands his brother over “the enemy,” and is shocked by Gabi’s actions, but Colt runs with Gabi and Falco without looking back.

Nile doesn’t follow.

Nile’s the sort of man who looks at Falco and thinks this assault might be about saving a little boy.

Colt’s the sort of young man who thinks Falco being someone who might be affected by Zeke’s scream is somehow relevant to whether or not it happens.

This story, lately, has been relentlessly cruel.

Gabi and Falco run away from home on a suicide mission to avenge and protect their loved ones after they witness the ruthless destruction of their home. Gabi watches people trying to protect her get gunned down. Falco, the kind boy who delivers letters for a wounded soldier, is the spark that enables the entire tragedy.

They reach Paradis, end up in jail because no one knows what to do with them, escape, and have to live under the constant pressure of their guilt and worldview being challenged. The destruction of Reiner’s psyche that takes a sustained undercover operation over the course of years is inflicted on Gabi in weeks, and Falco has to watch the girl he likes suffer over crimes that he aided.

Gabi watches Falco help her over and over again, and when things really start crashing down, there’s not a thing she can do for him.

They’re separated from everything they know and everyone they love, and then each other.

They make their way back to each other.

The world looks at these two tiny, traumatized children, and refuses to let anything happen to them. The world takes Gabi’s hate and uncomplicated joy in being a good Warrior and deconstructs it with kindness. The world takes a little boy like Falco, who only ever tried to help people, and lets him find his brother.

The reveal of Falco being the one who helps Eren isn’t a mark of betrayal. It’s a shared bond of pain that comes from good intentions being unfairly manipulated by people who didn’t care to be kind.

So they’re at least kind to each other.

In a tiny pocket of all this violence, things aren’t complicated. There’s a little girl and a little boy, and they deserve safety. A child who grew up in an internment camp designed to manufacture and slaughter Eldian children dreams of a world where the girl he likes won’t die, and they’ll get married and be happy.

Falco has always been kind and stable to the point of parody, but that’s honestly fine. Good. That should be allowed to exist, even if it doesn’t make total sense. The good things should be allowed to survive.

Gabi’s arc here ends with the realization that her hurt isn’t all there is to the world. Other people--other sides have their own, and they aren’t evil for that. They aren’t devils.

Falco’s trip to Paradis ends with him finally confessing why he followed Gabi to begin with.

There is something so sweet to the way Falco describes it. I hope it’s a faithful translation, because it’s my favorite thing this series has done in some time.

It isn’t just about Gabi not dying. It isn’t just about her having a long life. It isn’t just about them getting married.

Falco’s dream is for the girl he likes to be happy forever. He likes her, but the core of his dream is that she’ll live as long as she wants, and she’ll be happy through all of it.

Nothing Falco has seen in this world should give him hope for any of that.

He hopes for it anyway.

And Gabi rips off his armband.

The Yeagerists’ perverse mirror of what Marley has always done to them--what Gabi has accepted into her life in her fierce chase of changing it--and Gabi rips it off.

Their world isn’t kind. It’s cruel, and harsh.

People are kind to them.

That’s the only thing that saves them.

Naturally, it’ll be devastating when the bad things keep on coming for them, and no, sorry, this is not their finale, it’s just the finale of all the potential happiness they can have, but for right now.

For right now, kids shouldn’t be on the battlefield. So everyone fighting tries to get them out of it.

Look.

Standards.

We spend time with characters with standards this chapter.

It’s. It’s so strange. What is this.

Also, the fact that our time is spent on this instead of letting Eren and Zeke touch makes me astoundingly nervous for what’s coming next. There are very. I don’t want to say few. Uh. There are, thanks to the Founding Titan, potentially many ways for things to end not poorly.

I would say the likelihood of any of them traveling smoothly is. nil.

For instance, the entire scheme Armin concocts to explain away Eren’s behavior in this! Sounds good, sounds nice. Sounds destructive, sounds impulsive. Sounds vaguely understandable by the horrifying standards we’ve come to expect.

Sounds okay. Ish.

Still involves Eren sparking a national incident that brings a big army into their island so they can kill them all using a destructive power we’re only kind of confident in him using safely.

With the side effect of all his friends being in the splash zone.

I realize that even Armin’s kind of on the fence on that making real sense, but it’s not a bad explanation for everything. Eren’s backed into a corner when Yelena does her reveal. He’s held hostage by it, but hey, by playing along, he’s found a way to make things okay.

Even in that elaborate AU Armin came up with on the spot--

--things remain less than good.

Unless we consider most of the MPs and other top brass, the majority of veterans, and assorted civilians turning into titans and possibly dying--unless we consider all of that a good thing.

There’s a school of thought where Eren can just magic touch everything back to Okay, but the levels of Not Okay being pounced in with reckless abandon are a bit. uh. geez, what’s the word...

Bad?

There is a very good chance that this is all very bad, and running might be in their best interests.

In the non-AU version, all of Eren’s friends are scrambling to keep him alive because he has fucked them all over so horribly that literally their only chance at not dying slow (or very fast), brutal deaths comes from protecting the fucker who fucked them over.

And Armin, realizing this, digs down deep to try and find some of that good ol’ fashioned Friendship Power to bullshit all of them into agreeing to this plan of attack for reasons beyond generously optimistic pessimism.

While kind of wondering if Eren maybe wasn’t kidding about killing everyone.

Armin’s whole role in this chapter is embracing a truth that he secretly thinks might be a lie so that his friends have a prayer of feeling positive about this fuckery.

You’re trying so hard, Armin.

I am so sorry for you.

And Connie.

Like, good grief. Falco gets a hug. Someone needs to give Connie a hug. There’s been a serious shortage of Connie hugs since Sasha died, and I realize how that works, but it should really go the other way around.

Realistically, I am so happy that Connie’s the one who’s at his breaking point. He’s always been a team player, and over and over, it turns out that the people he thought had his back weren’t on his team. He’s a simple guy. This is a simple problem.

So, simply, fuck everyone who has anything to do with it.

Connie is Best Boy.

Onyankopon’s okay too.

This is the meta commentary on Yelena qualifying as a serial killer that we deserve. She is so great. All of you new characters with your new disasters are so great.

It’s a little on the nose, because bless this series, it is not subtle about most things, but thank you Onyankopon for injecting some hecking positivity in this here jail cell.

The concept of a future has been humanity’s fight all along. A better world.

Then Paradis met the rest of the world, and was all, “o fuck.”

“o fuck,” has interlaced every inch of the plot in the current day. Whatever hope there was, Eren’s decisions in Liberio tarnished them, and the rise of the Yeagerists threw it into the trash.

This chapter is kind enough to bring it back.

This is what the heroes of this world do.

They look at the impossible odds, and choose to fight. Because to do otherwise means that this is the way the world stays. This is what they’re left with, and that is unacceptable.

We’ve strayed a bit from that point, lately. It’s a relief to have it back in plainspeak.

Then there’s Mikasa, and. Aaaaah.

Armin only truly starts championing the possibility that Eren can still be a force for good when Mikasa comes back to his words about her Ackerman blood. Really, I think he does it for both of them. He refuses to believe Mikasa’s life doesn’t belong to her, so Eren has to be lying, so things have to be salvageable.

Mikasa knows him too well. She knows there’s room for doubt.

She leaves her scarf behind.

Mikasa is someone of great principle. She has a deep sense of responsibility that has been present from day one. She takes charge of Eren. She takes charge of other recruits. She feels the weight of the entire world, and fights for it. Her focus on her family has never made the burdens everyone shoulders disappear in her mind.

I don’t think she has a better explanation for why she can’t let go of Eren than the one he’s provided.

He’s killed children. He, by Connie’s word, laughs when he’s told about Sasha’s death. He abandons them and runs off on his own, risking all of their lives. He spits hateful vitriol at them and throws them in prison, where they would have likely died without someone going behind his back.

How can wanting to protect someone like that be natural?

Her very first argument to Eren is that he wrapped the scarf around her. When the world went cold, he brought warmth and a home back to her.

How does that compare to what he’s done recently?

How could she feel warm at all when she just watched Eren murder people? How, when by his command, she killed for the first time?

She has a genetic predisposition to comply with something like that.

Doesn’t that make more sense than loving this monster?

Children are dead.

Eren killed them.

Her first instinct is still to protect him.

That can’t possibly be right.

Mikasa doesn’t defend monsters. She slays them. That’s who she is.

If she’s defending this one, there must be a reason. Something deeper than just loving her family with all her heart.

To which I’ll say, for my personal stance... sorry, Mikasa. Your love does run that deep. It’s always been at war with your principles. Protecting Eren and Armin at the expense of everything else has always put you in pain. Being willing to let Armin go during the Serum Bowl is almost as agonizing to her as watching him die.

Mikasa’s strongly held principles and strongly held love have always been in conflict, but in the background. In side remarks about overprotectiveness, interspersed with her guilt over what that overprotectiveness has led to.

Eren’s cruelty gives her the excuse.

Here’s how she can be both; one isn’t real.

Whether she fully believes it or not, it’s what makes sense, for a person like her. She shouldn’t still care so much for the fate of this monster. Caring so much is why Reiner is still alive. Caring so much is why Bertolt lived long enough to char Armin to a crisp.

Mikasa learns. Always.

She should be fast enough at taking down the monsters now that they can’t hurt anyone first.

In case I’m not putting this clearly enough, Mikasa is better than anyone in the history of ever, to the point that even she can’t believe how strongly she hold on to things.

And my last comment on the chapter is that Yelena and Armin’s song and dance continues to be firing at max cringe on every cylinder, one of you drop the pleasantries and pull a gun already.

It’s funny, but in the way Jean pretending to be a knife-wielding maniac is funny.

Just stab each other like normal enemies. Please.

So since things are hitting the boiling point here, I guess next month we’re doing a shift in perspective?

Levi and Hange try out their Super Mario 64 skills in not drowning. The results my surprise you.

Nothing good can come from any of this, but you know? Falco and Gabi got to be cute. Plus Colt and Falco hugged. It could and has been worse.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 118 #Gabi Braun #Falco Grice #Mikasa Ackerman #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #tl;dr #chapter post

[mightyfineblog]

‘Touch My Body’ Ben Hardy x Rami Malek x Reader

Summary: Ben Hardy x Female Reader x Rami Malek. She is his girlfriend. One time at dinner she gets swirled up in an adventurous rendezvous with both.

Words: 3K

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT and more SMUT, this is a three way kinky fuckery.

Here is it. Enjoy:

You have been the happiest girl on earth. Having a lovely, caring and gentle boyfriend such as Ben, you felt blessed from the heavens. Ben was the biggest gentleman you’ve met, always putting you first, always asking you what you like, where you want to go, doing everything he can to please you.

You’d wait for him to finish filming day on ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, just so you could spend every minute together.

Some nights, he’d be too tired to lift a finger, others, he’d come back full of sexual energy, ready to get some straight on the doorstep. You tried you best to keep it interesting for him. Most times he’d take his sweet time with you, but there were times, when he’d just dominate over you and you’d comply, no questions asked.

You’d even roleplay, it seemed very appealing to you, when he’d come from set, full on Roger Taylor, cocky behaviour, sly smile. And then you’d pretend to be his groupie, a wild fan, at his mercy.

Often, when you’d finish work and you’d know Ben would be on set until late at night, you’d go over there. Everybody knew you after a few weeks of casually hanging around. Especially the boys cast, Joe, Gwilym and Rami, adored you. Talkative, joking, they always used to say “Thank God, Ben brought his girlfriend over, she is the lightest person to talk to, very helping with stress on set”.

Today was one of those days. Straight after work, your first stop was the studios.

“Hello, boys! Busy day today, huh?” You cheer on the entrance of a trailer, where they are all sat around, trying to put it together.

“Y/N!” Ben jumps to you and brings you inside. “Missed you so much today, baby!” he pecks your nose. He lounges on the sofa and situates you in his lap, your feet hanging over Rami’s, and your back to Gwilym. Joe is opposite you in an armchair.

“I wish I could contemplate, but there three dickheads aren’t even close to the real thing!” Rami exclamates, clearly staying in role. You giggle. “Mr. Mercury’s not fucking around today, is he?” you look at the boys faces. They all just shake their heads and sigh.

“I am happy.” Ben bites his lip “I got my baby right here” he squeezes you gently. “There isn’t anything I would want to do, than this, being here with you. All of you lads, you’re a fam already to me.”

“Hmm, you sure ‘bout that, princess?” Ben presses close to your ear, you don’t respond. “I could remember you swearing my name, how good I make you feel, baby.” He nibbles at your ear and neck. You giggle and flutter your legs a little up in Rami’s nose. He lifts a brow to you and you catch his graze, while Ben's face is buried in your neck. “Hmm” you pull gently away, you cup his cheeks “Well that’s something between you and I.” 

“Isn’t that right, Rami?” you give him a sharp look.

“Oh you two! I swear Ben catches a very Roger temper lately, gets down to you to relive his frustrations from the role. Isn’t that right, Y/N?” he bites back at you.

“Good one, Malek” you admit and wink at him. Roger pulls in closely for a kiss, his hand rested on your lower back and the other traveling from your knee to your thigh.

“just go to your own trailer!” Joe snaps at you both.

Ben holds you in his arms, as he stands up and carries you to the door “Damn right, I am. Toodles”

At his own trailer, he places you like a piece of fine glass on the bed and hovers over you, his knee parts your legs. You pull him for a wee kiss, which turns into a hot make out session. His knee travels higher up you, and you involuntarily let out a small moan.

“Already, moaning? Haven’t even started with you yet” he cocks his head.

“Ben…” you hand traveled from his neck to his bare chest, gently stroking under his necklace “I love it when you are dressed like that. It does something to me... seeing you in 80s outfit, your chest sweaty and God, the faces you make while banging those drums.” He goes to suck on your jawline and under your chin. “And, fuck baby, when I look at you and the boys in those outfits, I swear you make my knees weak.” You squeak when he sucks on your sweet spot on your collarbone.

“Your smell, baby! It works like a spell on me, every time I inhale you” a sly smile on your lips. His gives you a few more hot kisses, while his hand creeps down to your jeans patting gently at between your legs. In which you whimper quite surprised.

“Shh now, doll” he breaths in your ear “We don’t wanna people hearing you” his hand covers your mouth. You decide to drive him crazy, and start to lick and suck on his palm, which alone makes his breaths hit the back of his throat.

“BEN HARDY!” bang on the door “BEN HARDY” another bang on the door.

He pulls away, jaw clenched. “Yes, I’m in here”

“You are late for your scene, come out NOW”

“Ugh, okay, okay! Jesus!” he grunts and stands up.

“Aw, don’t fuss now Ben, we’ll finish this at home” you wink at him as he walks out, leaving you all hot and bothered.

Later this week, Ben asked you to go to a nice restaurant on Friday night, with him and the boys, everybody would bring a date. Obviously you jumped at the idea, because it meant, a cute dress and heels, some makeup, a hairdo.

On Friday afternoon after work, you hurry to a nice bath. A good pamper, helped you relax your tense muscles. Then you slipped on a glitzy bardot dress. Hair on soft curls to the side, revealing your neck and earrings. Heels high and slim, were clicking on the floor. You took a moment or two to look at yourself in the full size mirror, totally admiring yourself, you didn’t notice Ben standing on the door frame, arms crossed in front, head rested to the side.

“Shit, you scared me Ben! How long, you’ve been creepin’ there?” you frown at him.

“Long enough to get drunk on your beauty. Let’s go, the others are waiting” his arm reaches to you.

At the restaurant you and Ben are sitting opposite Rami and his date, Gwilym and Joe with their dates on each side. Dinner was nice, you were genuinely having fun. A few glasses of Moet and you already felt a bit too funny about everything. Then you felt it, Ben’s hand palming your knee. You pat his a few times to reassure him to continue. As you passionately are debating with Rami on double standards in working conditions, you notice his eyes locked on your lips. From time to time, he gives a subtle lick. Meanwhile Ben’s hand travels up your thigh, massaging it. You pretend you don’t notice. In conversation, Rami slides a few more compliments, “Maybe it’s the wine” you convince your conscious about it. “Ben hasn’t protested about it, he just teases my mercilessly”.

As Ben continues to rub his thumb on the inside of your thigh, you gulp some more whine, feeling your wetness between your legs. Suddenly his thumb is all but pressing against your knickers and you shoot him a sharp look. “What you think you’re doing?” He lifts his other hand and orders some more champagne, “This bottle’s finished, we need a new one” he clears his throat. “Smoot” you whisper to his ear. His thumb, continues to draw circles around your wetness and you can’t help but exhale deeply pretending to stretch.

“You tired Y/N?” Rami cocks his head, from across the table. “Yeah, no, just, a long day” you murmur.

Ben’s movements speed up and you bury your head to his shoulder and whisper to him “Stop it, we’re in public! And fuck! Let’s leave now!” you purr. He chuckles and kisses your temple “Why? You don’t like it?”. “Ugh, please stop it, or finish it!” you whine. “Hmm, let’s see about that...” his head moves in Rami’s direction, your eyes follow and fall on his smirk. You notice his hand has disappeared under the table. Confused you turn to Ben again “What the fuck Ben?”

“If you are a good girl, I’ll let you come. All you have to do is look at Rami all the way down” he instructs you as his fingers tug your underwear to the side and insert a finger. You yelp and curse a little under your breath, slowly dragging your confused graze to Rami’s. He seems so concentrated, his eyes dark and lips pressed. You feel ashamed for a moment and turn to Ben again “Why? Does he know?”. He chuckles “Course he does, look at him, he’s a sucker for you right now”. You sip more champagne, and ben stops his movements and lifts hand to suck his fingers clean. Your face flushed and puzzled.

“The dinner tonight is lovely, isn’t that right?” Ben beams to everybody. Then you notice Rami’s date is long gone, Joe and Gwilym making their way out with their ladies and wave goodbye. It’s just you three left on the table. Ben’s fingers slide in again and he speaks without any hesitation “Your pussy is so lovely tonight, all wet and hot”.

Rami looks very busy now, both his hands are under the table and he seems very concentrated on him. Ben goes to continue his torture on your wet core and you completely freely let a few moans in response. After a few more, the knot in your stomach has build up close to your orgasm. “Ben” you whine. “Yes, baby?”, “I am so fucking close, fuck”. “Did you hear this Rami?”

“Sure did” he grunts across you. He yanks away his finger earning him a deep protest from you. “Now look at his face” Ben’s soft voice calms you from your almost high. Rami seems to be at his high, grunts and his head fall forward a little.

“You are so good Y/N” Rami smirks as he cleans his hands in the handkerchiefs on the table.

“I believe, the three of us should go for a drink at my place” Rami suggests.

“What do you say, love? Ben’s hungry eyes beg yours.

“Screw this, lets fucking go” determined you answer.

 At Rami’s flat, you are moving around a large studio living room, overlooking the city. Soft and seductive music playing in the background. Ben is lounging on a sofa, his eyes following every move of yours. Rami comes behind you and hands you a glass of martini, his hands slide off your shoulders, to your body, feeling every curve.

“This! Over there, is the Shard” He speaks softly in your ear as you look out of the window, casually leaning on the piano next to you. His other hand on your waist, moving your body slowly in the rhythm of the music.

“The far other side, you see the Tate Modern” his lips on your ear move to your shoulder.

Suddenly Ben is standing next to you and takes your glass, placing it on the piano. He slides himself on your other side. Now Rami is on your right and Ben on your left. Ben’s arm wrapped around your waist, while Rami is kissing your shoulder with the softest of kisses.

The music is intoxicating, it makes you move with it, grinding to each side of the boys. Ben gently turns you towards him by your shoulders and gives you a lazy kiss on the lips. Rami’s hands on your waist grinding together, lips on your back.

Hands sliding the dress off your shoulders, you turn to Rami to taste his lips for the first time. After a while your dress is on the floor and the three of you grind slowly to the music. You then step out and confidently leave the boys a few steps ahead, taking sip from your martini. “Ben, kiss him, like you’d kiss me…” you wriggle the cherry in your mouth. Standing in all lacy underwear and high heels.

Rami’s hands cup Ben’s face as he pulls him in for a deep kiss, making you hiss at the show.

“What’s next, girl boss?” Ben lifts a brow eagerly.

“Take each other’s clothes off. But, slowly and in rhythm.” You confidently command enjoying your drink.

Rami’s hands slide off Ben’s blazer and with kisses down his chest, unbuttons his shirt. Ben does the same. You moan at the view and can’t help but move carefully closer. Situating between their bodies, you move to the beat, their hands all over your body.

Pulling away you dominate the situation, “Lead to the bedroom” you cock your head to Rami. “At your command” he takes your hand and leads, you hold Ben’s.

At the bedroom, you lay on the bed and spread yourself on the black satin sheets. The dimmed lights allow the city lights to gleam over your body. “Take off my heels” with low sultry voice you instruct. Each takes each shoe, taking their sweet time to admire your perfect legs.

“Ben, Rami. Tell me what you want to do to me” you smirk at them.

They pop on elbow at each side of you as you stare at the ceiling – huge mirror, overlooking the whole bedroom.

“Will fuck you from behind, while you grind against him” Ben speaks first. You bite your lip.

“But, not before WE please YOU first” Rami blinks seductively.

“Let’s get it on then” you nod, and start to get up, but Ben gently stops you and pushes on to lay on your back. “Let us, baby” Rami confirms.

Ben starts to trace kisses from your jaw, to your collarbone to your breasts. Rami massaging your arms, shoulders and neck, relaxing you further. Ben unhooks your bra and tosses is away, he starts playing with one nipple, while Rami takes on the other. All you are able to do it stare up and enjoy the sight. Before you know it, you’re panting. Rami goes down and lifts your bum up, while Ben slides your knickers off. Ben occupies your thigh and places kisses, licks and sucks, while Rami spreads your legs wide open and gives you a harsh lick collecting your juices from your hot entrance. He lifts his head up and savours, then turns to Ben “Come and taste her” Ben licks his lips clean, all between your legs front of your dripping heat. “Fuck, baby, you taste even better, when all on him” Ben’s voice is deep and low. Rami then leans in and starts sucking your clit keeping a good speed. Ben moves to your head and kneels. He lifts your head places is on his knees, while massaging your breasts and giving you small bites every now and then.

You grasp for air, when Rami inserts a finger inside of you and twirls is experimentally. He is quick to find your sweet spot, and he knows it from the way you squirm every time he touches it. You are a moaning mess, when Bens kisses you upside down, movie style to silence you.

You feel it building up in your stomach and ache your back “Fuck, I’m so close, don’t stop, please” you beg. Rami inserts a second finger, while his lips suck on your clit.

“Show him baby, show Rami how you do it” Ben’s jaw is clenched.

His words push you over the edge and you let a loud scream and your body shakes. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, body exploding.  After a while when you come to your senses, you find Ben and Rami grinding to each other, “Take off your pants” you command “and underwear”

You purr at their hard cocks. “Rami, lay on your back” and he complies. You straddle him, your clit rubbing his erected cock. Ben situates himself behind you. “May I now, baby?” Ben asks, “Granted Ben!” you announce as he slides his length all the way in you. He grunts “Fuck, you’re so tight around my cock, baby, such a good girl” he leans to your neck. Rami’s eyes close as your pussy rubs his cock to his stomach with each movement of Ben. Your hands stretched to support yourself on Rami’s chest. He is grunting, panting, silently cursing. Ben whispers in your ear, what slutty little baby doll you are for him as he hits you from behind you moan. Soon you feel Rami’s cock twitching under your throbbing clit and you know he is close.

“Come Rami, I want to see your cum on my chest” you encourage and he doesn’t last any longer, and shoots straight on your bouncing breasts “Fuck Y/N, you’re so good” he praises you and you smirk.

Same time, Ben’s movements get sloppy and you know he’s close. “Baby, fuck, I’m so close, can I…”

“No! Hold it” you slide off him. “I want to watch you cum on Rami, your lips tremble. He complies. You give his length a few strokes and he shoots his load all over Rami, even got some on his mouth. Sweaty and flushed he rolls beside Rami and both pant for a while. Rami licks his lips and moans by Ben’s taste.

“This is fucking awesome” Ben admits after all you calm down.

“Told ya” Rami’s smirking.

“I’m going for a shower, who’s joining me?” Your sultry voice suggests, as you give them a blink and walk away.

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