#old tech looked so rad

[foxaftershocks]

In the Field (Lars Pinfield x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You finally get the chance to go into the field and meet a ghost in the wild.

Words: 2.9k

Be warned, there will be much discussion of slime inside

It wasn’t often you were allowed in the field. You were much more used to sitting behind a desk, tinkering away with the new tech. You only ever saw ghosts in a safe, contained environment. Lars had made it perfectly clear that you were to stay behind and run interference from the lab. Someone needed to be able to do the remote stuff for him according to him.

But this time the Ghostbusters were a man down and they needed some backup. You suited up, strapped on your proton pack, and hopped in the van with the rest of the equipment. Sitting shotgun beside Lars, you watched the city zoom past, the siren loud in your ears. You were smiling to yourself, ignoring the way Lars eyes kept darting over to you.

“Just remember, this isn’t about having fun,” he said.

“Yeah, but it’s a bit fun though, right?” you asked, smiling over at him.

His eyes darted you for a moment, looking less than impressed before returning to rad. Your grin settled more deeply on your face and you could feel yourself bouncing in your seat. You watched him instead, his sure movements making you feel a little hot under the collar. His eyes flicked back to you then quickly away again when he noticed you watching him.

“Be careful,” he said as he pulled up curb side, “it could be dangerous in there.”

“Aw, are you worried about my safety?” you asked, turning towards him.

He didn’t answer, climbing from the van and slamming the door. you laughed to yourself, joining him on the street with the rest of the team. Lars was already handing out the new tech, leaving you looking up at the old hotel towering above you.

“Hey Pheebs,” you said, getting the teenager’s attention.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“What kind of dog does a chemist have?” you asked.

“I don’t know. What kind of dog does a chemist have?” she asked, playing along.

“A lab…radore,” you replied, grinning over at her.

Her lips quirked up into a small smile and you nudged her with your shoulder, smiling down at her.

“Hey, nice to see you out of the lab,” Gary said, joining the two of you considering the building.

“Thanks. I didn’t know fresh air could smell so fresh,” you replied.

“That’s why it’s called fresh air,” he replied.

“No way,” you said, pretending to sound amazed.

“Alright, everyone know the plan?” Callie asked before he could say anything else.

The general agreement was enough for the group to surge the entrance, proton packs at the ready. From there, you split off, peeling away from one another. You and Lars took the stairs to the higher levels, leaving the basement to the professionals.

The long hallways began to blend together as you walked behind Lars, looking at the readouts from your equipment. He had his headphones on, swiping the microphone past the doors. You found yourself watching him more then the equipment. It was probably for the best you didn’t spend much time with him in the field.

He was always a distraction to you.

The minutes stretched out, leaving the two of you in silence. You knew he said it wouldn’t be fun, but you didn’t think it would be this boring. Some excitement would have been nice.

“Hey, Lars?” you asked, jogging to walk beside him.

“I can’t listen if you talk,” he said.

“Why don’t you ever let me join you in the field?” you asked, looking up at him

He glanced down at you, looking less than impressed by your question.

“You know why,” he replied, “we need you doing the remote work. Will you let me listen now?”

“Why can’t you be the one doing the remote work sometimes?” you asked.

He sighed, barely containing a roll of his eyes. You snorted, looking down at the PKE meter in your hand, raising an eyebrow at the reading.

“Hey, Lars?” you said.

“I need silence to listen,” he said.

“Yeah, but Lars-“

“If you’re not going to take this seriously you can go stay in the van,” he interrupted.

“Okay but-“

He sighed, stopping as he turned to look at you. You froze, looking up from the PKE meter readings. He pulled the headphones from his ears leaving them hanging around his neck and if you weren’t so worried about the readings, the fierce look on his face might have been unspeakably attractive. As it was, you found your gaze drifting to something over his shoulder.

“We’re not here to mess around with ghosts. This is serious work. You can’t be messing around like you do in the lab,” he was saying but your attention was so focused on what was going on down the hall.

Phasing through the far wall, blue light was reaching out towards the two of you. Fog curled along the carpet, the air growing cold where it touched your bare skin. Lars hadn’t noticed yet, so focused on telling you off he was missing it. the ghost itself was tall, almost skeletal. It took slow steps down the hall, stretching above Lars, hair brushing the ceiling.

“Lars,” you said, interrupting him.

“What?” he snapped.

You pointed over his shoulder. He turned, slow to look up into the grinning face of the ghost. Its lips had pulled back, almost too far, exposing more teeth than anyone should show. One translucent hand reached out towards Lars, fingers curling as if threatening to squeeze his body once it had him in his hold. He took a stumbling step back.

You dropped the PKE meter, pulling your proton gun into your hands. You held it up, waiting to see what Lars would do. He told you to let him take lead, and you were trying but he seemed to be fumbling to pull his own proton gun free.

The ghost bent down until it was eye to eye with Lars. You watched as he froze, holding up both hands to it, trying to placate it. You held your breath.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Lars said.

That was the wrong thing to say. The air grew colder and the ghost screamed in his face. Ectoplasm splashed into his body, coating him with enough force he went flying backwards. You managed to jump out of the way just in time, slamming into the wall. The ghost advanced, grinning down at Lars. He struggled, trying to wipe the slime from his glasses.

“Oi, chuckle brother. Look over here,” you shouted.

Lars’ eyes turned towards you as the ghost turned its head to look down at you. You steadied yourself for a moment, bracing yourself against the wall before letting the proton stream go free. It burst from the nozzle, red light and sizzling electricity slamming into the wall across from you. Making a worried noise, you turned it towards the ghost. The stream wrapped around its body, holding it in place.

“Hey, Lars,” you called down to him.

“What?” he demanded, still wiping at the slime on his glasses.

“Trap,” you shouted to him.

With a surprisingly practiced motion, he slid the trap he’d been holding along the carpeted floor until it was positioned under the ghost. You slammed your foot down on the pedal. It opened with a loud beep. Struggling with the gun, you forced the ghost down until it got caught in the vacuum of the trap, sucking down into it. You shut your gun off, taking your foot off the pedal, closing the trap and containing the ghost.

“What were you talking about? That was totally fun,” you said, looking down at the still smoking trap.

“Maybe for you.”

You turned. Lars was finally climbing to his feet, slime dripping from his body. You couldn’t help the giggle that came from you. You bit down on your lower lip, trying to stifle it but not managing very well.

“Come here,” you said.

He took a trudging step towards you. You met him half way, still giggling. Reaching up, you gently took his glasses from his face, wiping away the slime on your uniform. You were careful as you placed them back on his nose. He’d pushed his hair out of his face and although he was dripping, he’d done his best to wipe his face clean.

“There you go,” you said, voice low, as if the moment was private.

“Thanks,” he said.

“We make a good team,” you said.

He glanced over your shoulder at the trap. He stepped around you, picking it up and if you checked out his ass as he bent over that was no one’s business but your own.

“Let’s see if the others have captured any specimens,” he said, the moment you’d shared now broken.

“Sure.”

You followed behind him again, avoiding the dripping slime he left in his wake. The rest of the team was clustered in the foyer of the hotel, looking a little worse for wear.

“Did something explode?” you asked, joining their group.

“Yeah, it was awesome,” Gary said, wearing the vestiges of of the smoke on his face.

“Lars got slimed,” you said, “I had to save him. It was pretty awesome too.”

“Nice.”

The two of you shared a high five.

“So we’re done? We won?” Lars asked.

“Got a couple of bad boys right here,” Callie said, holding up some traps.

You took them from her, doing your best to avoid the smoke coming from them.

“Nice haul,” you said, “these are gonna be fun to study later. I can just feel it.”

“We should get these into the containment unit,” Lars said, taking the traps from you. He left a slime residue on your finger.

“Good work, guys,” you said over your shoulder as you followed Lars back to the van.

You climbed into the passenger seat, lying down some towels on the driver’s seat for when Lars joined you. He pulled open the door, traps stored safely in the back, and looked down at the towels.

“Protection,” you said at his questioning look.

He climbed in beside you, his flight suit stripped down, arms tied around his waist. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, surprised at how much that look was working for you. He glanced at you before starting the van.

The drive back to the lab was quiet. You weren’t quite sure what to say to him and he didn’t even attempt to say anything to you. You kept stealing glances at him, missing the fact he was doing the same to you.

When you arrived back at the lab you split from him, taking the traps to the containment units while he cleaned up. The slime had begun to harden and flake off his body as he scratched at it. It was like he had a horrible skin condition. That wasn’t working for you so much.

You stripped out of your flight suit, getting back into your jeans and tank top. A bruise was beginning to bloom on your shoulder, presumably from where you hit the wall avoiding the slime. After depositing the ghosts into the containment unit you wandered back to your bench, wanting to note down the exact experience with the one you’d caught.

“I really don’t like ectoplasm.”

You startled, looking up. Lars had approached your bench, blond hair still wet, dressed in a t-shirt and some sweatpants. Your mouth went dry and you knew you were staring but you couldn’t help it. Usually dressed in a button up shirt and a tie, this casual look was making you feel feral, like you wanted to sink your teeth into him. He was rubbing a towel through his hair, doing his best to dry it.

“Does anyone?” you managed to ask.

He looked up at you, his glasses askew and a small smile curling up the corners of his lips. You loved this small shared moments in the lab, right when you were the last two there, the lights dimmed, the dark pushing in from the outside.

“You did well today,” he said, surprising you.

“You think? Maybe I could start coming out more often,” you said.

“You’re hurt,” he said.

His fingers brushed over the bruise on your shoulder. You shivered under his touch and he snatched his hand back.

“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” you said, shaking your head, surprised by how much you wanted his fingers back on your skin.

“This is why you can’t come out into the field,” he said, voice hardening, turning away from you.

“Why? You just said I did well today.” You couldn’t keep up with him and his changing moods.

“You got hurt,” he said, voice tight.

“So? The others get hurt all the time and you don’t ban them from busting,” you said.

“Because they’re not you,” he said, whirling to face you again.

“What?” It felt as if the air had been forced from your lungs.

“I can’t see you hurt. It.. I’m not…” he thrust his fingers into his hair, clenching in his frustration, “I won’t see you hurt again.”

“Lars,” you said softly, standing from your stool, reaching a hand out to him.

“I can’t concentrate if I’m worrying about you being hurt. That’s why I tell you to do the remote work. That’s why you can’t do any more field work,” he said.

Your hand landed on his shoulder, index finger running along the collar of the t-shirt. You saw him shudder but didn’t stop, even when you brushed against the skin of his neck. You took a half step closer, staring up into his frustrated face, your other hand clutching the soft cotton of the shirt closer to bellybutton.

“And how do you think when you’re out there and I’m stuck behind a screen? You go out and I’ve seen you come back with all kinds of injuries and sometimes I think one day you won’t come back and there’s nothing I can do about it,” you said, dragging him closer, “I care about you, Lars, and it kills me that I can’t be out there with you watching your back.”

He looked stunned, as if you’d just told him something groundbreaking, but for you it was the simple truth. Sure, you’d had fun in the field, but you only ever wanted to be there to make sure he was okay. You wanted to protect him, as much as he seemed to want to protect you.

“I’m always going to come back,” he said, voice softer now, full of wonder.

“Egon Spengler didn’t,” you said.

He considered you for a moment, eyes darting over your face. You realised your hands were still on him but his warmth was comforting after the chill of the ghost.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he all but whispered, forehead falling forward until it rested against yours.

His hands came up, resting on your waist, towel dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap. Your breath caught and you couldn’t even be embarrassed by it when it felt so good to be touched by him. You surged up, lips pressing to his. His hands slid further, pressing into the small of your back, pulling you closer. You sighed into his mouth, melting against him, your every dream coming true.

The heat of his skin seeped into your, warming you up until you thought you might catch fire. He kissed you deeper, more intensely, tongue sweeping into your mouth. You squeaked as he pressed you back, lifting you until you were sitting atop the bench, your legs either side of his hips. You hauled him closer, leaning down, enjoying being taller than him for once. You moaned and the hands that had fallen to your hips tightened before he tore himself away.

Chest heaving, lips kiss stung, flush high on his cheeks, he never looked better to you. He stared at you and you stared back, heart thumping hard in your chest.

“We’re at work,” he said.

“We are,” you agreed.

“We have more work to do.”

“We do.”

He took one step closer, then another and you could touch him again. Like a magnet, you were drawn to him, your hands reaching for him without conscious thought. He allowed you to pull him closer again but you didn’t try to kiss him, just needing to feel him under the palms of your hands.

“I suppose I can suffer through you being in the field some more,” he said, “after all, we seem to make a good team.”

You laughed, curling your body around his in a hug. He froze for a moment before his arms curled around you, holding you close. You buried your face in the space where his neck met his shoulder, his skin smelling of soap.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He pressed a kiss to your temple and you drew back, looking into those blue eyes that had haunted your dreams.

“We should get back to work,” he said.

“Must we?” you asked.

A small smile flirted with his lips and you found yourself smiling back. He pressed a slow kiss to your lips, keeping it chaste lest you get carried away.

“To be continued later,” he murmured against your lips.

“Fine,” you sighed, sliding from the bench, your body brushing against his the entire way down.

You might have agreed but you’d never promised to fight fair. And from the look he gave you, you thought you might be able to change his mind pretty quickly.

#lars pinfield x reader #lars pinfield imagine #lars pinfield

[gremoria411]

Alright then. So we have another Witch from Mercury episode that hits like a goddamn truck.

Heavy spoilers follow for Witch from Mercury Episode 14 (and 13). Sorta a mix of feelings and predictions.

Not gonna lie, really loving the new season so far, basically because both episodes have been pretty jam-packed. Like, there’s a lot going on with expansion and character development to a lotta people. Standouts include Chuchu, Nika and Lady Prospera.

I did absolutely love how Lauda has this big dramatic speech and genuinely guns it for Suletta, but then gets absolutely stomped. I feel like things are probably gonna end badly for him, if only because Guel’s more interesting. Still, watching Pettra and Chuchu defend him was nice, everyone has someone that cares about them.

There was also a small bit of development for Elan…… five? (I really should’ve rewatched this prior, oh well). Like, he doesn’t step in to ruin Shaddiq’s plans, and he expresses fear when faced with dire odds. Like, I guess Elan Four was about necessity, whereas Elan Five is about cowardice? Its a neat contrast, or perhaps how Elan Four influences Elan Five?

I love how we’re finally getting some insight into Lady Prospera’s actions though. I mean, episode 14 confirms a lotta theories some people have been having, which is rad, but I’m honestly just here to see what the heck she’s up to. So, Quiet Zero, I’m guessing it’s some sort of shutdown weapon? GUND-ARM System suits are shown to be able to totally overpower any non-Gundam suit (“only a Gundam can defeat a Gundam” thanks, Elan Four), so presumably their only threat would be another GUND-ARM system suit, which quiet zero focuses on taking over/shutting down? Though having written that down, it sounds like something too small-scale for what Prospera’s talking about.

EDIT: I have remembered that the Gundam Schwarzette is a thing. Given that that mobile suit literally has a zero on its face design, it’s possible that it mounts the “Quiet Zero” system in question. It’s also possible that the quiet zero is somehow connected to the ms-style GUND-bits that the Lfrith’s were using.

It’s also entirely plausible that every word she says to Miorine is a lie. I don’t think she’s lying when she talks with Belmeria, that sounds like what she actually believes. But there she’s with an old friend who she holds a lot of power over. Miorine is different, so I’m less inclined to trust anything she says to her. It is interesting that while talking with Miorine, she steps out of the darkness and into the light, so it’s possible that these are her original, noble goals, that have slowly been twisted into things she’d go to terrible lengths over? Things to ponder.

Shaddiq’s been…. Interesting, to say the least. Since I just spent a whole two paragraphs talking about Prospera’s possible goals (and honestly, I might write more later), it’s good to see the show’s other resident Char Clone stepping up to the plate (The Elan’s have too much other baggage for me to weigh in on them, and we don’t really know what’s going on with Guel yet). Shaddiq’s essentially plotting a coup from under his own father, and is straight up financing terrorist operations. It’s unclear how this is going to end for him, since it’s being repeatedly proven that he isn’t quite as smart as he thinks he is, so I feel like he’s going to go down a couple pegs at some point. I honestly don’t have a clue on where he’s going from here, so I’m very much looking forward to it. Grassley defence systems seems to have a monopoly on non-aerial Gundam tech, so I’m betting that they’ve been supplying Dawn of Fold with the Lfrith’s and GUND-bits.

Alright, guess I can’t really avoid talking about it any more can I?

Sophie Pulone gets a really nice focus episode, then dies attempting to take down Suletta in the Aerial. I genuinely wasn’t expecting her to bite it so soon, and it’s only made me more interested in seeing what the whole deal is with her and Norea du Noc. It’s quite interesting because Sophie is essentially a Gender-swapped (and perhaps slightly more childish) Mikazuki Augus, from Gundam Iron-Blooded Orphans. She fights because that is her choice, for the things she wants in life, because that is what she is good at. I just find it really neat how she’s basically a takedown of the protagonist from the last show, showing what would happen were they actually overpowered. It also loops back to earlier, her death being the thing that breaks Norea’s emotionless composure and shows how these Gundam pilots view Suletta - as a terrifying monster.

It has greater implications too, since for all Sophie’s combat ability and credentials as a mobile suit pilot, she dies fairly quickly, as a pawn in someone else’s (in this case Shaddiq’s) plan. It sends the message that it isn’t the characters with raw power and deadly mobile suits that are dangerous, but the movers and shakers behind the scenes. Like Shaddiq. Like Prospera.

#gundam #gundam: the witch from mercury #spoilers #ramblings #g witch #witch from mercury

[cipheramnesia]

Last Call

Marlowe stepped the gap from the greatcrete tomb off northeast El Camino Cross, hitching up the heavy canvass on its shoulder over the way. Crystal weed had pushed loose some tooth deepways down and open-maw crete had met Marlowe under the first glimmer of the big rad. It'd hesitated less'n sip before creeping in. Bountiful haul, Marlowe leapt one crete boulder to other and walked its way over towards the big East Sink.

Neath the great crossings above, most all El Camino daybedded in the Big Sink, snug bugs safe from the big rad and the little rad over head til falls stars. Marlowe shaded its eyes while it walked, tint layover the many lensed glass. Big rad glittered the flakes in its bronze skin, warm and welcome. Its parents promised it the future, the world and the suns for that glitter, more than gold, so they said, next gen new ways, future of humanities and hopeful for the steam pacts.

Took a walkover ways to the east cross corner and those little crete walls half in the Big Sink, minuteswise enough to put the promises behind it. Sat looking deep dark, legs kicked over the edge and nextout the haul from the tombs. Good old metal, pre-cataclysm. Wires and miles of it, Marlowe figured. Old world plastics, pretty petty trades for sugar and spice. Marlow rubbed its hand through its short, tight curled hair. Trembles at the tips, stilled to hold its treasure. Tech of the ancients, full intact, no crack.

Altogether a couple shoe sizes, heavy bulk old metals, not like those soft sweet ores from the Big Sink. Faint sounds of the imps driving new roads clattered reverseways to its ears, hoots and jeers to beat back the fears. Part held together by wires - no, connected, click and clack, something like a flatout pistol with no trigger loosed up. Sidewired, loose - no, not broken, it still moves, thought Marlowe, twisting the thick wire on the side sunways and flat. Squares of plastic all glued up under another metal cover. Marlowe went from trembling to tensed, its fingers nimble known, same sharp hands built the backup arm on its back, spring and cranky but reliable. Much of the same hope laid on Marlowe's shoulders held there that mech arm.

Plastic glowed, metal squealed under Marlowe's fingers, it jumped, clutched tight the treasure, the living metal itself. It spoke the metal, the flat pistol shape in its hands, Marlowe lifted it to its ears and listed to the voice of the ancients, spoken like falling crystal:

"This is tower to caller, respond. … This is tower to caller, respond. … This is-"

"Heard," said Marlowe.

"This is tower. Please wait."

Eyed the flat shape to be some old comm, Marlowe heard a few but never firsthand marveled. Both ends had even slits, sound from one only.

"New user authorized. Confirm."

"Confirmed?" Marlowe waited a moment more.

"Received. Time and coordinates marked. New user, return to these coordinates and time stamp in one planet rotation cycle."

"What?" The snapping and whine had stopped. The comm was silent. "Speak up? I command the clouds to voice!" Nothing worked. Marlowe clocked the sun, popped the lock on its helper arm and x-marked the spot. The sun was young and the Sink was deep.

****

My name is Tower. I am 65 meters long, at my longest point. I have a 50 meter dish and my primary body is 21 meters wide.

I am alone.

I am 35,100 kilometers above the assignment. I have watched the sun of the assignment become two suns. I have watched the stars for 525,870,001 operational hours. I have performed my assigned task twice. My task has ceased to affect my assignment for the previous 2,093,640 operational hours.

At one time, there were twenty seven others like me. Now I am alone.

I count the visible stars for the one hundred and twentieth billion three hundred and seventeenth million eight hundred and ninety eight thousandth nine hundred and third time this operational minute.

I wonder if my operational cycle is beginning to decay. I am aware that my assignment does not include the capacity to wonder, or the concept of being alone.

I am not alone. I consider my eagerness to respond to the signal. Eagerness is not included in my assignment. "This is tower to caller…"

Some time passes. I wait for my assignment to return.

****

Down the Big Sink, few lit far between, Marlowe laddered downward, evercloser to the Impact Crews, groundbreaking ore and room and more. Parents said, hope, up, steamwise and surfacebound, chain wrapped it in future hopes. New gen, promised all, so it goes, with no hand in by Marlowe, only told to climb, ascend. And what joy its skilled hands wrought to life, the mecha and flow of El Camino, another heir to the pacts of Steam.

Marlowe downward climbed, hopes below, hands down reaching, dark seeking. It read the future in the petrol dark oil, lines of soft glimmer, next gen the dust beneath their toes. Marlowe made its way along fresh hewn tunnel, bottom floor, everyone off, newest rooms brought to life by the El Camino imps. It knocked gainst the rock and pale hands pushed aside canvas flap, glitter glow eyes met Marlowe's deep dark brown, thin lips from sharp teeth joined. Marlow slid its hands round this pale form, scattered with stiff bristle hair, near quills, swept sparse over blue white skin. Those same pale hands, pale arms, enfolded together, bodies pressed close and tongues found twined. Kissed deeper than the bottomless sink, hungrier than the big salt flats, brighter than the big rad, til parted only by the dawning breath.

"Juke," Marlowe said, leaned its head against his. "Missed you evermuch."

Juke smiled. His teeth as beautiful as the light reflecting inside his eyes. Not all next gen so surface bound as the caged hopes round Marlowe. Deep dark, low light living, Impact driving Juke, whose scent alone caused Marlowe's heart to punch its chest. "Wishing for you evermuch," he said. Teasing. "Even half a day overlong?"

"Even an hour," Marlowe added, squeezing Juke in its arms. "Even a minute overlong."

Black nails, talons from Juke's paper skin, wrapped Marlowe's hands, the nails scraping along its flecked skin with stone sounds. Marlow squeezed back, pressed itself closer. They together drew canvas curtains and bedsheets down and met desires with flesh and blood for some time, hours of the young and fragile world til they gasped air, bound by sweat and eyegaze locked.

"Missed you evermuch," said Juke.

"Everalways yours," said Marlowe. "And more to show and tell, future of signs to come." It reached out from the knotted sheets for its canvass sack, there to display the finds of the ancients for Juke, Juke the only future Marlowe held in hand. Plastic treasure and more, the comm and story of the tower. The promises yet to come. The sun moving overhead, far above the dark. Blankets wrapped round again, harsh drinks and distilled lichen, sweet words til sadly parted again.

#last call #lisa frank gulch #weird west #post apocalyptic #queer fiction #don't worry an edited finished copy will go up on AO3

[cassifiction]

Could I request Jinx x a nerdy mage s/o please?

I’ve seen this request before but I didn’t read whatever fic or headcanons went with it, haha. I’m gonna put my D&D knowledge to the test here. I hope this is what you were looking for.

Send me requests!

Jinx x nerdy mage reader (g/n, sfw)

-> next request: none, requests are still open though

Because of your different interests, the relationship between you and Jinx is something quite special. She’s more into tech and science and you’re always working on practicing and mastering your magical skills.

The thing that unites you however is that you’re both always trying to improve your talents in the little niches you’ve carved out for yourselves. Neither you nor Jinx know many other people in your respective fields, so you rely on each other a lot whenever you need help.

Whenever one of Jinx’s gadgets needs testing, you become her target dummy. No y/n’s are ever harmed, though.

Whenever you needed a test subject for a new spell you have been working on, Jinx becomes your guinea pig. You made sure she knew that the chance you would accidentally turn her purple was low. But not zero percent. Maybe twenty. Or fifty.

You’ve got a bit of a math teacher/history teacher dynamic going on. You pretend not to be interested in each other’s expertise, but everyone knows you secretly talk about it all the time in the breakroom. And everyone knows you’re dating, even though you try, and fail, to keep it a secret.

Jinx is obsessed with your magical skills. She thinks it’s SO cool that you can cast spells and seemingly manipulate reality itself. Not many people in Zaun have skills like that, so that makes it all extra special. And on top of that, this fantastic mythical person is also her s/o? Brilliant. Amazing.

Every day she asks for updates on your work, she wants to know every new amazing thing you can do. Even if it’s something as simple as lighting a candle by shooting sparks from your finger.

You like to hang out together while you both work on your things. Jinx would be at her desk working on her latest invention while you would sit in a comfy chair nearby reading and old spell book.

Sometimes you’re too busy with your research to really pay attention to your girlfriend, but that’s not a problem to Jinx. She knows how it all matters to you, so she’s happy to just be nearby and listen to some music while you work. It’s all good as long as she can be near you.

She likes to sneak up on you from behind and hug you while you’re reading.

You try and enchant items for Jinx to use in her projects. She’s especially fond of any mechanical parts that glow different colors in the dark. Good for use in rainbow bombs. Diversity win, the bomb that just blew up your mailbox was gay 🏳‍🌈

Jinx likes to scour the Undercity’s marketplaces and rummage through old abandoned buildings in search of books and scrolls for you to study. Sometimes she finds incredibly rare items without even realizing. You always make sure that she knows just how much that means to you.

She will brag to everyone who will listen about how cool her s/o is. How much you appreciate that is up to you..

Sometimes she’ll asks you to cast some simple spells while you’re cuddling or kissing. It just feels really special to her to hold her s/o close while there are little lights dancing in the sky around you both.

Or when sparks are literally flying. You think it’s kind of cheesy, but it’s her absolute favorite spell to request when she’s about to kiss you.

Notes: mages are rad, I should play as one some time. In D&D I always end up playing rogues, even when I DM my NPC’s are hardly ever mages.

#arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane jinx #jinx #jinx arcane #jinx x y/n #jinx x reader #jinx x you #arcane headcanon #request #requests

[wpdariacutnes]

🎃🧋🎃🧋🎃🧋🎃🧋🎃🧋🎃🧋🎃🧋🎃🧋🎃🧋

Me: lien is more rainbow roll sushi because dys colors more say a whatever get colors words hair is canda more logic a be so neo because rainbow sushi is same so neo like only so wegan eksedera like get fish dys orange get 🥒 and dys more pink or red one fish so relly is fine but not pop sushi type so enifing be ignorant but dys

Oso I dont See a lumine is more teching as dys gem a be so neo das more be radom evolucion angel or fly staws enifing like is to wery corekt say

Like relly whatever like lumine is lumine what more do say is guy fine a say more elegant woman a me get voice type is more atracik voice knows more logic a ship dys a wona like red wine glas or sowing or canda neber dys witch a megaman get ship a witch but canda me canda sund same tone voice so canda introsting and one introsting ask a enifing be wery happened a witch get realityship to much a X so canda be logic a dys from a dys witch lady or bit expleing a new series game like enifing happened like bit like is enifing bit wirts say pragnet a dys blue colonel yes i say blue because canda same dizaine like same body and face das full eskuze rezan but

No lien is not a staron is a is not so blue because more from a witch enifing rezan be rad so canda bit rezan but yeah hate dad bit much so canda say "wrker" nice man and nice fatcher

🎊🐕🎊🐕🎊🐕🎊🐕🎊🐕🎊🐕🎊🐕🎊🐕🎊🐕

Me: a muny is so old like more a 2010 only and like never drowing agien because canda happened a canda you get efekt a code more swaring me so yeah dys rezan a tone be radom suget a suget is like swaring so get rezan why

And more from a wattpat fans staws a lumine is swap au or das be good guy series canda rezan so why not use a make one's oc like enifing au is not offical a das fun or same radom frow ask and bit ask a be true and more dill dys a code more a make game knows better or yandere super fandom ones ( no relly I get skriming me a derr man a be sund same a zero and get skriming radom rezans so dys why say is yandere ones fandom because is to opesion and same going in fire and play radom rezan a be self rezan not plamers in plase is true like call me why fan chring be not so pycho a say normal you not chraing one do make a older friko)

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Me: okey? Like fuse man is get name them and someone same more a truse fandom say a dys be them so fuse make same a be same takes a be woman or be guy/man so canda not rezan a be code sexuality haters? Eke:sexist like me rezan make fuse man and never expleing normality a das radom frow "AAAA FUCK YOIUUUNDKSAWVSJWJDIEK" a dys lot staws a never expleing someone puding nife me eksedera so canda not dys one a play same a lumine because call hem...a not her and be imsanety brek a get dys rezan a be srupid a knows a enifing okey art ekseder

Oso someone did a lot a wattpat/YouTube and here plase a fuse man play be more a man so same be not dilesh persen Abe them a play code radom naive radom asshole a play a be traforating but dys so relly what is dill guy? Well look a me take nife a someome later did same and make be pess off rezan but play never be attaking a radom them haters jezz get off reddy like enifing be players Wall times thx be a asshole a them persen a enifing rezam is trans or sowing and use fuze a eskuze self a be finks like finks not wery persen but play be persen

Gut same a 2010 canda backflash a dys but more be cringe but dys like radom slap lumine knows wer and play a fuze a be same guy or canda be same be them or enifing make huge ass a fuze because tits is smole a too much so yeah....canda dys happened ( no relly how lumine is hem a knows reddy is woman as glass wine like knows is woman and done but no~ play a more fun a be canda raknes but dys)

Okey canda done a bit expleing fuze man rezan and me finks a canda bullshit rezan a fund nife and play radom nofing a gag radom a say nader dush man thx same you a lumine be rage a make them a get a slap face is woman seek out!

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#gachapon megaman ver #megamancomunity #mereal #wpexpleing #parents take rule #youtube #art 2023

[scandiengbergs3]

Greetings from Oslo!

Well, hello!  So, our train last night was a bit delayed, so we didn’t actually make it to our Airbnb until close to 11 p.m. The kids were so tired -- but still hungry.  Cece actually fell asleep on the couch waiting for me to make her some scrambled eggs.  She declared them delicious and then went promptly to bed -- oh, that was after discovering that the Ikea cot she was to sleep on in the smallest of the three bedrooms was so broken it could not even hold a 7-year-old child.  So, she slept on what is actually a quite comfortable mattress on the floor.  She was out like a light! Rowan slept in the other small bedroom and Eric and I have a bedroom with a King bed that sits, like, literally in the middle of the room.  And there is only one other piece of furniture in the room.  Trés modern. The apartment we’re staying in is very spacious and very nice.

Ok -- so, as I just said, the apartment is nice, but it is sometimes so clear that people do not have kids ;)  The two small bedrooms do not have blackout shades, which, in the Scandinavian summertime, means the rooms stay very light, very late.  Our kids have been so tired after really full days that they’re still able to fall asleep reasonably well, but blackout shades are really helpful, in general.  The master bedroom has them, and, in fact, it has an electric shutter so you don’t even have to get out of the floating-in-the-center-of-the-room bed to make the room pitch dark by lower the shade. 

This apartment is sort of unusual for the places we have stayed in that it has something we often take for granted in our home back in New Mexico-- it has two bathrooms. It also has totally updated fixtures and what seems to be a very souped-up kitchen. The kitchen is so high-tech I could not figure out whether I was looking at a double oven or an oven below and microwave above.  I also was totally flummoxed by the range top. As I write this, I’ve now used it three times, and I am still baffled and can only get it to work through a combination of trial-and-error and cursing (well, since it’s me, I actually say “Gosh Darn It!!!” a lot).  The appliances are by Gaggenau, a brand I have never heard of but appears to be very nice, and their design is sleek but their intuitiveness is, well, lacking for a user like me.  

After we arrived and got the kids to bed, I soon realized that the upstairs neighbors were having a loud, boozy party -- and I could tell it was boozy because I could hear like a dozen slurring men (and I could tell they were slurring even though they were speaking Norwegian) singing football songs.  They kindly knocked it off around 12:30 a.m. though, which is when I was going to bed.  I am always the last to bed in our house. I was reminded how nice it was that when I lived in the Renaud (for 8 years) in Detroit, I lived on the top floor.  In apartment living, the top floor is always best. I advised the children of that today. Of course, you can always hear noise traveling throughout an apartment building but at least in a top-floor apartment, no one is walking on your head. 

We started our day off today (Saturday) by walking around a bit while some of our laundry finished running, so I could put it in the dryer or hang it up before we went out for the day.  So, during our waiting-for-laundry jaunt, we went to a really rad kitchenware shop down the street (it is a chain) called Kitch ‘N and it was really great -- like Williams Sonoma, basically.  Then, we also went to the grocery store and got several things that we’ll need over the next three days. So, we came home, the kids ate some snacks, and I dealt with the laundry, and then we went to get on a tram down to the waterfront so we could take a commuter boat over to another side of the bay where some museums are.  We went to the Fram Museum today!

Now, the Fram Museum has a whole ship inside of it and contains so much information about the ship’s voyages to the North and South poles.  It was really incredible!  Three years ago, when we were in Stockholm, we took the kids to the Vassa Museum there, but they really were not into it -- it was too much for them at their ages then.  But, now! Wow.  They loved the Fram Museum. They particulary loved exploring the ship -- moreso than reading all of the supplementary information and viewing the timelines, etc. 

After the Fram Museum, we took the boat back to the harbor and we got ice cream and headed to the modern art museum, the Astrup Fearnley Museum.  It is such an amazing building, first of all, designed by Renzo Piano.  Then, the collection is super cool -- very diverse and very challenging.  In fact, some of it was not age-appropriate for the kids, so we had to scooch past some things they did not like and others they did not quite get.  They were  dismayed by one Damian Hirst piece they saw that had animals in formaldehyde.  I mean, those are not pieces that are really very easy on the eyes for anyone of any age--however famous those works may be (and there is considerable debate about whether much of his work is even “art”).  The kids did love some of the light and video installations and told me clearly which paintings and pieces were their favorites.  They was a special exhibition of the works of the textile artist Synnøve Anker Aurdal.  The kids and I had a lot to discuss about what they saw in her works!  Take a look at them and read about her -- so amazing.  

After we left the art museum, we made our way back to the apartment via two busses and had a pretty commonplace evening.  I made dinner, we ate, the kids took showers, we read books, I folded some laundry -- you know, the usual.  And now, it’s 11 p.m.!  So, I will sign off.  I hope everyone had a lovely Saturday; I didn’t mentioned that the weather in Oslo today was just gorgeous. Such a treat that was!

[dead-set-goat]

Little shrimp taking over the world??

“ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US”

#get it? get it. #I based this on those ads #old tech looked so rad #i mean. obviously. they made radical more than maths. they made it RAD #whatever whatever. I’m so tired I will not write an essay in the tags today. I will actually tag. #art #my art #digitalart #retro #retro art #pc #old computers #tech #old tech #shrimp #shrimpblr #banded coral shrimp #cleaner shrimp #aesthetic #vintage #marine art #marine creatures #sea #marine biology #nerd #moment #this shit glitched?? my tumblr glitched what happend?? ok???

[echos-newlegs]

Modern!Wrecker as a Country Boy/Redneck head canons:

Here is my one over Echo, I plan on doing the rest later!

These are all based off @spaceydragons original post! Please check out their blog they have some rad ideas 😌💙

Okay so Wrecker would be the aggressive hard-core one of the group

By aggressive I mean "not afraid to get dirty, BUT would not even harm a fly."

He is very soft and isn't too fond of hunting. He loves wildlife too much to hurt it

One time you and him were hiking and he found a baby bunny and nearly started bawling because of how cute it was.

You and him often go on nature walks

If you know a lot about nature and explain things to him about it he will love you for 1000+ years.

He loves hearing your passions

He will pick you up to set you on tree branches for giggles. Unless your scared of heights, then he won't.

Be ready to go mudding because he loves it, with his big truck that can get out of anything because him and Tech customized it.

He will also love you forever if you bake pies

You often have to chase his away from the kitchen while they're cooling(yes, he gets his own pie. We spoil him in this household)

10/10 piggy back rides

Your feet are tired? Piggy back ride

You're sad? Piggy back ride

You're sick? Piggy back ride to the living room if you wanna lay on the couch because he will not let you do anything BUT sleep

Everyone thinks he's well- dumb, but he's actually really smart.

He may not be book smart, but he is street smart

He can fix vehicles like no other

He taught you everything you know about vehicles

Oh, you also better hope you aren't allergic to dogs because he comes home with a new one at least once a month

So be thankful tbb has a lot of land they own

When you two first start dating he's afraid you won't like how rowdy he can get, and how messy he can be, but you don't mind one bit and he loves you for it.

He saw you playing with Omega once and his heart melted. He thought he was going to combust with how adorable it was

Man will eat everything you cook

Even if it's the first time you made something and it didn't turn out great

He doesn't care, he will do anything to see that pretty smile of yours

Idkw but I feel like he asked you out by saying, "wanna be the cowgirl to my cowboy?" And everyone was astounded that 1. He overcame his awkwardness and thought of the line and 2. That you said yes.

Wrecker will never admit he heard Echo use it once at 79s

Wrecker loves picking you flowers, unless you have really bad allergies

Then he refrains and just points out the pretty ones that reminds him of you when you go on your walks.

When the two of you go to town he helps you pick out plants for the garden

He has his own flower garden and you cannot change my mind

But I feel like ladybugs frighten him

He got bit by a cornbug(they look like lady bugs) once when he was younger and it traumatized him

He likes watching the bees, but if they get too close he screams and runs inside

Same with wasps and spiders

Once he was attacked by a Pray Mantis and he has now decided he only likes butterflies and moths

He LOVES lifting you up to help you pick from the fruit trees 🥺🥺

If he sees you struggling to reach. Instead of reaching for you

He also loves swimming with you.

He grabs you by the waist and lifts you up, or sets you on his shoulders.

You often find him walking around with one of your hens under his arm.

He calls himself the chicken whisperer because only he can pick them up without them running away.

The two of you always win at the game chicken against his brothers and the 501st

Only time he's been jealous was when you paid more attention to a dog than you did him on one of his needy days

Other than that he's not really a jealous type. He trusts you

Oh, he also loves tractors and will take you for rides in them

Tractor rides can occasionally get steamy as well iykyk

He has ptsd and nightmares from the war and you are always what calms him

Even just your gentle breaths and presence in his arms while you sleep next to him is enough to calm him down.

He gave Lula to Omega, so for his birthday you made him a Lula 2.0 out of an old dress/shirt of yours and an old flannel of his. The dress/shirt was one of his favorites that you wore, but it was old and ripping so you put it to good use.

If you guys get a place of your own you occasionally steal Omega, and Cuts kids on weekends because you and Wrecker are the best Aunt/Uncle and Uncle

This man will sing to you out of the blue and is a really good singer. I don't make the rules

Man makes you blush after he's been working outside for a while 😳

Oh, you also get to borrow his oversized shirts and flannels

He also will save up money to buy you matching bracelets or necklaces

He would get a locket with you in it so he always has you by his heart 😌

In conclusion. He is a wholesome man, looking for a lover who would get muddy with him.

I could write more but it is currently 1am 😭

I might make another post for more ideas later or just write him a small drabble for wholesome purposes

Tags

@andiebell2023 @kaitou2417 @murdertoothpick

If you want tagged in future posts comment "future tag"!

#wrecker #wrecker x reader #bad batch wrecker #the bad batch #wrecker the bad batch #bad batch x reader #modern star wars #star wars #country #i love him more everyday

[littlemisslipbalm]

“I am not going to join your band”

Summary: You’re longtime best friends with Mitch Rowland and you’re in love with him. When he starts working with Harry you tag along and watch as Mitch falls in love with Sarah. But Harry watches them too and you realize you have each other. 

A/N: Why is this lowkey a Mitch fanfic at the beginning OMG - i didn’t mean for it to be like that but it kind of reads that way. I will definitely be doing a part 2 I just wanted to kind of set the stage for what is to come (likely another three part kind of thing). NOT (really) PROOFREAD AND FEEDBACK MUCH APPRECIATED (I love hearing from you)

Word Count: 2.6k 

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, otherwise this is just HS1 Studio FLUFF

Part 2

---

All your life had been exceptionally boring. And you had no complaints. You were from a family with two parents, two siblings, and a pet. You went to public school and performed well, but never excelled in anything because you didn’t care to. You chose to go to college just an hour away from your hometown, a small liberal arts school. Your life was, by all accounts, average. You weren’t super popular and you weren’t bullied excessively around town. You just existed there.

The only thing, or person, rather, in your life that you really thought made it exceptional was Mitch. Mitch grew up next door to you when you were kids, he was a few years older but he didn’t mind hanging with you. You eventually became best friends and did everything together. Sneaking in through his window to play with his pet lizard when you were seven. Sneaking out with him to drive around in his car and drink stolen alcohol when you were sixteen. You did everything with Mitch. You thought he was your soulmate. While he was quiet with others and that sometimes freaked them out, you either enjoyed the silence or got to see his truly imaginative and beautiful personality.

Mitch was a musician all his life and you sat with him when he learned to play on his thrifted first ever guitar and attended every one of his high school rock band’s shows, even if that meant sneaking into a bar at fourteen.  

Staying close to home wasn’t hard because that’s where Mitch was. Even if nothing ever had even remotely happened between you and Mitch, you held out hope. He had thought about it just once, if neither of you found anyone else it might be nice to have a family together, but he had dismissed it quickly. Mitch saw you as a little sister and loved having you as his best friend who he could tell anything to, but it was never going to be anything more for him.

So there you and Mitch were, living your little lives in Middle America, nothing to your names, but some average education, affordable apartments, and going-nowhere jobs. That is, until one day Mitch’s roommate called him up to ask if he could come play guitar for some musician’s album he was working on. The musician’s guitarist had called in sick and Mitch’s roommate had volunteered Mitch for the job. That’s when Mitch’s life changed, but what about yours?

It was heading into the second week of Mitch working on the musician’s album, who you had found out to be the famous Harry Styles. Mitch had come home after the first day and called you to come over. When you arrived, he told you how Harry and him had gotten along so well and Harry had invited him to keep coming back and playing on the album. You had never seen Mitch so excited and you were happy for him. You couldn’t help the twinge in your heart though when he kept bringing up someone named ‘Sarah’. She was apparently the drummer and had been very nice to Mitch, as well.

Now Mitch had this whole other life and you were sat there like what the hell am I supposed to do now? Then on that Saturday evening, after a long day in the studio for Mitch, he had come over to watch a movie and unwind with you, he asked if you wanted to tag along to the studio with him on Monday and see how it’s going. He was always telling you how cool everything was and you were quick to jump at the chance to both hang out with Mitch and see him doing what he loved.

On Monday, Mitch picked you up and drove you to the studio. When you got inside the building you were already amazed. The place was small, but so incredibly cool to you. You had never been to a real recording studio before and one of the things you and Mitch loved to do together was music - listening to it, playing it, buying it, so this was an unforgettable experience. Mitch walked through one of the bigger studios doors and the two of you entered the part of the studio that was where all the soundboards and tech was.

Harry, the man who had practically fallen in love with Mitch as well, was inside the room already. He turned to Mitch and beamed his large smile, his teeth a shiny white. You could tell why everyone in the world was in love with Harry just from that smile, it was truly an ‘award-winning smile’. “Mitch!” he exclaimed and gave him a tight hug. Mitch only smiled softly. When Harry pulled back his eyes flitted over to your figure standing just slightly behind Mitch. “You’ve brought a friend ‘round, that is so lovely!” he first said to Mitch and then turned back to you, “What is your name, love?” You extended your hand and said your name, Harry only glanced at your hand and then pulled you into a hug as well, a slightly less exuberant hug, but a hug nonetheless. You loved Mitch, but you didn’t understand how this bright and bubbly man had warmed up so quickly to Mitch’s quiet and solemn exterior.

Harry looked at Mitch with something in his eye you couldn’t quite place after the three of you chatted for awhile. “Well, you’re very lucky to have this man in your life, Y/N, he’s one of the best guitarists I’ve ever met, like, holy fuck, he is good.” You smiled at his praise for Mitch, and glanced adoringly at Mitch. Mitch only ducked his head at Harry’s enthusiastic praise. Whatever reasons Harry had for adoring Mitch, you were pretty sure it meant Mitch’s chance to get out of his old life, including you.  

Then, it was time for them to get to work. Harry and Mitch had already written one song together, or at least Mitch had helped Harry to finish it. Today, Harry wanted the band to play it for the first time all together. Harry had told you to make yourself comfortable on the couch in the soundboard room. You watched as the band set up all of their equipment and you felt your ears burn when you saw Mitch talk to the woman you identified as Sarah. You didn’t want to be jealous, you hated feeling possessive over a man that you weren’t even with, but you just felt like you were watching Mitch slip from your life more and more as every moment passed.

The band started playing the opening chords of what Harry had called Woman when he said into his microphone, “Take 1...of many for Woman.” You smiled as you watched Mitch get into his guitar playing for the song, he sounded amazing. But as much as you liked to watch Mitch play, you couldn’t help but stare at Harry when he began to sing. He was talented, beyond talented, his voice sounded angelic to you. He grooved a bit to the instruments as he sang the lyrics. It was a beautiful song, you thought, wishing you could have someone write a song like that about you.  

As the song reached over half way through, Mitch breaks into a rad guitar solo and for the first time since Harry began singing you looked back over to Mitch. That was kind of where the song ended, there was just a final time when Harry proclaims “Woman!” and it ends. You weren’t sure if it was normal to stand and applaud after a studio recording session, but you did anyway. You jumped up and down a little and clapped. The entire band smiled back at you and Harry leaned into the microphone, “Y/N, why don’t you come in here and join us?” You happily agreed and went into the adjoined room.

Harry told everyone to take a breather for about five, so the band was drinking water and chatting. When you got there you immediately belinned to Mitch and began to gush over how much you loved his solo and his playing throughout. Mitch talked in hushed tones back to you, saying where he thought he might speed up or slow down at parts. You didn’t notice Harry had walked up behind you and you jumped a bit at his voice. “Didn’t mean to give you a fright, love. How’d you think it sounded?” Harry inquired. You tilted your head to look up at him, while Mitch was perched on an amp, Harry stood tall beside you. “It was lovely, the lyrics were epic and I loved the beat of it. I was just telling Mitch how amazing his guitar solo was…” your cheeks brightening when you mentioned Mitch. Harry had some knowing smile again.

“You’ll have to thank Sarah for delivering that beat, however, Mitch and I wrote those lyrics,” Harry continued the conversation with you. You couldn’t believe how normal he was for being a world famous singer and boy band member - just a year ago. One Direction was a huge deal, yet here Harry was asking you how you’d liked the song  and talking to you like you knew a thing or two about music. You and Harry talked about the song for a bit more, Mitch staying silent for almost the entirety of the conversation, you noticed his eyes wandered over to Sarah who was talking to Adam, the bassist. Then, it was time for Harry to listen to the song when the tech crew came back. When he did, he made notes for both the band and the tech crew and everyone got back to work. On the third go around of the song, you decided you were done giving them a round of applause.

They worked on Woman for half the day. When lunch time rolled around, Harry decided he was happy with how the song sounded, ‘good for now’ was all he said, obviously still not satisfied with how it sounded. During lunch you sat beside Mitch and across from Harry. The more you got to know Harry, the more you liked him. He was very playful and free spirited, but also took his passion very seriously and was endlessly grateful for the opportunities he had been given. As you warmed up to Harry, you noticed Mitch being a bit more animated. Had he been keeping his guard up because he wasn’t sure if you and Harry would get along?

There was still sometime before the break ended, but everyone had finished eating. You excused yourself to the bathroom, but when you came back, you saw Mitch occupied with Sarah. You looked helplessly on as he smiled and laughed with her. You felt left out as you really didn’t know anyone else but Mitch there. Sure you had gotten to know Harry a bit, but he was a rockstar and a guy you barely knew, you couldn’t just go up to him and ask to become your new best friend. Harry noticed you standing alone and walked up behind you, this time knowing to tap your shoulder to make you aware of his presence. You turned around at the touch you felt on your right shoulder, you were greeted with Harry’s bright eyes and soft smile. “Do you play any instruments?” Harry asked you. That’s random. “Eh, I can play some piano and guitar. I love piano, but I don’t keep up with it as much as I should.” “Well, you should keep coming here with Mitch. You could get some practice in, we’ve got a piano here somewhere,” Harry said as he raised his head and started to look dramatically around the room. “‘S right behind you,” you smiled at the man who had given Mitch a chance and now seemed to be giving you a chance, too. Harry whipped his head around, “Ahh…Well I’ll make sure it’s tuned for you for tomorrow.” You thanked him and the two of you began chatting about Harry’s visions for the album.

Three Weeks Later

“I am not joining your band, Harry, I’m not even that good of a piano player!” You threw your hands up. “Will you hush? You’re amazing, quit denying it,” Harry grinned as he pinned your arms down to your sides and flipped you around, “Now play exactly what you showed me earlier.” He marched you to the piano and plopped you into the accompanying stool. You huffed a sigh and placed your fingers on the keys. “You don’t even have piano on all-” “Ap, bahp, bahp! Plaayyy…” Harry cut you off and then added, “Please?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Such a baby.

You had been coming with Mitch to the studio for almost a month now. After your first day, Harry had retuned the idle piano for you and you had messed around with it when they weren’t recording. You and Harry had become closer over the time, he realized you were almost the female version of Mitch, but slightly less shy and slightly more opinionated. And you had realized that Harry was the kindest man you knew, only after Mitch. Mitch and Sarah had also become closer in the past three weeks. As much as it pained you to watch, you could never look away. The band and you started to go out every night and every night Mitch and Sarah always ended up sitting apart from everyone else wrapped in their own world. It hurt your heart so much, but you pushed through, happy to be around all the amazing people you had gotten to know. As well, whenever you were left alone, Harry always seemed to pop up, chatting about what was next for the album and what you had been doing on the piano earlier in the day.

Today, you had sought out Harry, wanting to show him something you’d been playing with since yesterday. When he heard what you played he brought up something he had mentioned a couple weeks ago, that you had thought was a joke, he wanted you to join the band - to play keys. You laughed it off, but Harry persisted. Now he was having you play the little random piece you had made up for everyone: the band and the crew. Your stomach was doing flips and your heart was in your throat. This was one of the main reasons you didn’t think you could be in Harry’s band, anxiety. It was minor, but you definitely had some - if your nerves in your physical body and your thoughts in your brain were any indication.

Finally, you began to play. It was the tune of what would become Sweet Creature. When you finished the early sound of it, there was silence. Sarah was the first to clap and then everyone followed quickly after. You ducked your head down and then looked up again with a smile on your face. It widened when you looked over at Harry and Mitch right by your side. You had never had people saying something of yours was great. Harry and Mitch stayed in the studio room with you, excited at the new prospect of a song. The album had reached a roadblock a couple days ago. Harry wasn’t liking any of the songs they were making and he was struggling to write any new ones. This, your art, was a breakthrough. After you had played, Mitch picked up one of the acoustic guitars laying around and began to play the same tune on the strings. Harry began to hum along. They twiddled with your tune a bit, but eventually they had to let it go for the time being. Lunch had ended and they still had to keep working on the other unfinished songs.

-

#harry #harry styles #my writing #also now she's gonna be in the band #I'm not going to be in your band #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #can I say #Mitch Rowland x reader #is that allowed?? #bahaha #it feels wrong #love you Mitch tho #love Sarah too #enjoy!

[siren-sent-by-cupid]

❤ First Date - Garcia

You gave yourself a once over in the mirror before heading downstairs to wait for Penelope. You finally worked up the courage to ask her out earlier in the week and are getting ready for your date. It was daunting asking her out, she's a literal tech genius and just all-around incredibly smart. On top of being the second smartest in the office (rivaled only by Reid), she's one of the funniest and kindest people, you've ever met.

You had thought for forever that she and Derek were together in the romantic sense. But then, one day she came in visibly upset, After asking what was wrong she told you that her girlfriend broke up with her because of her hours. She broke down and you comforted her. In that moment you knew you were falling for her, and hard.

She insisted on treating you for your first date together. You still don't know where she's taking you but she told you to dress comfortably.

After a few more minutes of fussing with your makeup and clothes, overthinking, and pacing back and forth, you hear the doorbell ring. You rush to answer it stopping short as to not seem too eager. You're not one for playing hard to get but you did think it would be weird if she knew you'd been pacing in front of the door for almost a quarter-hour. After one deep breath, you open the door.

Penelope turns around and you're greeted with "Hiya, sweet thing!"

You laugh "Hi yourself. You look great." You gesture to her pink dress, sweater, and Converse. "Do I get to know what you're taking me to?"

She laughed "Not yet." She takes your hand and pulls you to her car "Your silver chariot awaits you"

"Silver?"

She points to her old, silver-colored Kia "I would exactly call that gold."

You nod in agreement. Though it's a very plain car on the outside, the inside was 100% Garcia. There were fluffy seat covers, little dolls on the dash, and a little motherboard charm on the rear-view mirror. It was indearing.

After about 10 minutes of driving and sing-screaming some pop song on the radio, you stopped in front of what seemed to be an animal shelter.

"Pen, what are we doing here?" You chuckled

"Suprise! We are volunteering at the shelter for the night. It's an event day where they bring in physically disabled kids and let them play with the animals for free." She looks down at her hands and smiles to herself "It's really something, getting to see the look on those kids' faces and knowing you helped."

She looked up from her hands and looked at you, she seemed slightly worried. "I know we spend our days helping people, but those people have already been so hurt, or they've hurt others."

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly "We see terrible, terrible things daily, I get why you'd want to help some kids out. It's innocent help, not violent."

She let out a sigh of relief "I'm so glad you don't think it's lame."

You both start getting out of the car.

The rest of the night goes amazingly, since you were friends first you get to skip the "Getting to know you" phase and go straight to talking about anything and everything.

You learn about her nefarious past, she learns about how you secretly always wanted to be a vet and work around animals.

At the end of the night you're pulling up to your house, laughing over nothing. Penelope is clutching her sides and wiping a tear from her eye when she says "I had a great time tonight, Y/N."

You finish your own laughing fit and respond "I did, too. I haven't laughed like that in a very, very long time."

You're at the front door now and you turn to her. "So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

She smiles at you "Oh no, we are absolutely not having a simple little good-bye at the end of this truly rad night." She pulls you away from the door and more towards herself.

"Y/N, a perfect end to this perfect night would be kissing your perfect face." She leans forward, face inches away from yours. Waiting to kiss you until you give her the a-ok.

You close the distance between your faces and kiss her. It's gentle and passionate at the same time, you can both tell that the other has wanted to do this for a long time. She pulls away to get some air and pulls you back for another, all be it shorter, kiss. This time she pulls away completely. Neither of you says anything as you pull yourself out of her arms and unlock the door. She grabs your hand one last time and kisses your knuckles, making you laugh at the cherry on top of her veiled fantasy references through the night.

#criminal minds #criminal minds facfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #short fiction #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #bau #short story #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #david rossi #emily prentiss #Penelope Garcia #penelope garcia fanfiction

[jigglypurin]

Lego Racers

      I distinctly remember the smell of the big box PC game's packaging as my parents pulled out of the Costco parking lot. Peppery, for some reason. I was about four or five. I couldn't help but crack the box open on the way home to read the manual and stare at the art, still bathed in that odd peppery smell. Rocket Racer, the game's final boss and posterboy, looked at me with his smug grin, and I knew I had to beat him. I was relatively new to playing video games and using the computer, but I knew enough to put the disc into the big tray, and wait for the autorun to hit Install.

      LEGO Racers is a 1999 kart-style racing game released for Windows (and N64 and PS1, but I never touched those), and it is the game I most closely associate with my very young childhood. There were definitely others I played around the time, my first personal console being a Gameboy, but I'll get to those eventually. When I think of Lego Racers, I lovingly remember the feeling of being at the family Windows 98 computer in what we called the sunroom (basically an afterthought built-on room to our house that faced west and had gigantic windows), and having my very first truly heart-poundingly tense moments before triumph in a game.

      I don't exactly remember how long it took me to finish. I spent most of my time in front of it coming up with little characters and making them the coolest little cars a five-year-old could imagine. Then, I'd take them into the test drive area and show off to the little pixel crowd in the stands.

      The game's box art and intro cutscene proudly display the game's seven circuit bosses: Captain Redbeard, a stock pirate fella with a simple but sleek treasure chest-engine car - King Kahuka, a hindsight racist tribal islander stereotype with a throne shaped car - Basil the Batlord, a vampire with a rad dragon-headed red and black low-profile car - Johnny Thunder, an Indiana Jones parody with a rather non-descript but cool looking car with head and tail lights - Baron Von Barron, Johnny's archnemesis with a sleek retro Jeep - Moth (whose name I will not say in its entirety), a blue alien queen with a cool blue moon-rover, and finally, Rocket Racer himself, whose autograph is scrawled across the game's cover art;  a man with his very own circuit named after himself, and a machine that screams *speed* with its arrow-shaped nose, cockpit style windshield, and rear rocket boosters. To my little 5 year old mind, these boss racers were on another level; truly skilled drivers I would need to give my all to defeat. 

      Gameplay-wise, it's a standard kart racing fare. Press gas at the right time during the countdown to boost, avoid obstacles, get power-ups and win. But getting to build and race your own car creations was half the fun as well. Legos being a special interest of mine as a kid made the game much more than the sum of its parts. I had a huge plastic tub filled with them. I still love building Lego cars to this day. It's unfortunate that the game is 2-players at most. Obviously important were the items: Red bricks were attacks like cannonballs and rockets, Yellow were hazards like oil-slicks and a mummy's curse that played with your controls, Blue were shields, and Green were speed boosters, with smaller White bricks that acted as level-ups for your items. I pretty quickly figured out that Green was the best. Why hit everyone or protect myself when I could just get so far ahead they couldn't touch me?

            The game has 13 tracks, 12 of which you will see before you are halfway finished. Each grand prix has 4 tracks, so the latter half of the boss racers simply have mirrored versions of the former's. Each track is based on a distinct Lego set from tech themed space and arctic, pirate laden and tomb raiding adventure and island, and wizard and warrior style medieval and magic. As you start a grand prix, you get a short scene of the boss driver taunting you and showing off their car. Against the boss, there was little room for error if you wanted 1st overall. Like most kart racers, you got points based on your position at the end of each race. And no matter what, the boss racer will finish first if you do not. No lie, making it to the final track with gold in sight never failed to get my little heart racing. Especially since you stopped dead in your tracks upon any crash. Getting hit by an enemy's attack was one thing. Annoying, but you could recover. Crashing into a wall and having to back up? Agony. Many of the later tracks had just such obstacles jutting out at right angles to end any hope of victory.

      After finishing a grand prix, the game shows you two cutscenes (unless you got 2nd or 3rd, then you get one, and it's not particularly flattering), first of your character triumphantly dancing upon a gigantic 1st place pedestal, showboating their gold trophy with fireworks and flash bulbs. After that rush of dopamine, because being five and winning enough points in the circuit to earn your way to 1st was already so much, the game gives you an extra mind-blowing moment of the circuit's boss racer, kicking the sand and 'aw shucks'-ing as they accept their defeat and present you with a brand new set of bricks to use for your cars and drivers (which initially, I remember scaring me as a kid? at least at first? They first appear in silhouette and I had no clue what was happening. I was an easily scared kid, you will learn more about that. It comes up a lot). I was stunned. Not only did the boss just tell me I'm a better racer - now I can *play as him*? And build *his car*? Transcendent. 

      Aurally, the sounds of this game are completely burned into my brain. The goofy, catchy theme that plays on the main menu, the bouncy garage theme, the squeaks and clicks of placing bricks, and the loud, distinct sounds of each powerup. Just watch a few moments of gameplay and you'll see (hear) what I mean. A few of the track themes as well I can still catch myself humming from time to time. 

Some good specific memories:

-A moment where my sister, 6 years my senior, was watching me, rooting for me as I took on Johnny Thunder's grand prix. On the final track, the reversed Captain Redbeard stage, I managed to snag a last minute un-powered up green boost brick. My blood ran cold and my pulse jumped as I leaned back in the chair, and barely rocketed ahead to take the win. We both cheered.

-The day where I both finally defeated Moth, an extremely fast racer with exceedingly difficult tracks, and finally met Rocket Racer himself, face to low-poly face. His cutscene is, for lack of a better word, epic in the mind of a child. Veronica Voltage, another racer who heads the Time Attack mode, congratulates you on your series of wins against the previous boss drivers, and says there's someone you should meet. A midi-orchestra begins to play. A massive metal door raises slowly, and Rocket Racer walks out of the shadows to your drivers shock. He acknowledges your skill and challenges you to race on his own track before turning and walking toward a swirling portal, laughing as he says "I'll be waiting for you... at the finish line." Tiny me was awestruck. This game rocks. Rocket's track, funnily enough, is kind of a joke once you've got it down. It's chock-full of green bricks and white upgrade bricks, so you can get the way overpowered Space Warp boost that just teleports you further ahead on the track. While Rocket also knows how to use those bricks well, at this point, you probably know how to use them better.

-Cracking open my big CD case some years later, age 10 or 11, and installing it on my own laptop. Getting to play Lego Racers in the comfort of my own bed was a dream come true. 

This first one is a little rambly and more about the game itself than my memories surrounding it. Honestly, that's because the game follows me to this day. I still own the disc. It's not installed (new lappy doesn’t have a disc drive lol), but I reminisce on it often. I've since emulated the N64 and PS1 versions, but neither hold a candle to the one I grew up with. It's a warm reminder of my days where Rocket Racer was the coolest motherfucker, getting a new Lego set would make my week, and little victories in games meant the world.

#LEGO #LEGO Racers #PC #Retro #Ages 4-6

[something-fanfiction-ie]

Out of the Lion’s Den

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of rape (not against the reader), attempted rape and assault (against the reader) angst, cursing, insults, the usual super dramatic shit you see in the taken down of an unsub

A/N: Wowie wow wow wow, so this is kinda long. And I know I said I was gonna post it like two days ago, HOWEVER! In my defense, I started writing it and then about halfway through I accidentally closed tumblr so it deleted everything I had. So I went to bed defeated. But it’s here now, that’s the important thing, right? Remember to like, comment, reblog, send me asks, and just be your usual amazing selves and give me the attention that my parents never gave me as the oldest of eight. As always, THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING ME AND I APPRECIATE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!

___

[ Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four ]

December 1998

It felt good to be back home in Georgia. The wind whipped at the trees outside of the diner you and you best friend were currently catching up at. The waitress, Flora, knows you by name and sets your usual in front of you with a ruffle of your hair and a couple of southern endearments.

“Tell me everything.” Madalyn says, reaching across the table for the ketchup that was placed on your side of the booth. You swat at her hand when she makes a grab for one of your fries. Her laugh is loud and feels like home, making you smile into your drink in a way you haven’t smiled all semester.

“I’d like to preface this conversation by saying that I feel like this would be a much cooler experience if I were the same age as everyone else.” You point out, brushing your growing bangs away from your eyes with an annoyed swat. Her eyes soften with sympathy, swirling a fry into the ketchup tucked into a safe space on her plate. She doesn’t say anything though, knowing that you have more to say.

“The classes are awesome. The campus is beautiful. I learn something new all the time, which was never happening when I was going to school here,” you pause long enough to glance around the room. It’s packed with all kinds of people, from old men clustered at the counter sipping on coffees to construction workers munching on hamburgers during their break, even big families squished into booths and tables for a nice Sunday family lunch.

“But?” You shrug in response, knowing that Madalyn will be able to read you like an open book if you meet her eyes. Across the table, the amateur profiler squints her dark eyes at you with suspicion.

“Everyone just kinda avoids me. The guys are cute, but they’re all nineteen and twenty. Most of the things to do on campus, you have to be eighteen for, so I mostly just spend my time at the library or at Aunt May’s doing homework.” At this, Madalyn stops eating, raising her eyebrows with a cheeky grin.

“I bet your grades are super rad,” You resist the urge to throw a French fry in her face after what she says next. “And besides, I’m the only friend you need in your life.”

“Actually, I have made a kind of friend?” Flora is over before you can finish the drink in your cup, filling the glass with a dark, blue pitcher. When you thank her, she reaches out to pat your cheek, mumbling something about missing you while you were gone.

“Should I be jealous? Is she pretty? She may be a big sister type, but I’m your soulmate.” You laugh into your sandwich having to cover your mouth when you take a bite and the laughter doesn’t go away.

Madalyn has been your best friend for four years, although time seems to have no meaning in your relationship because nobody would doubt it if you told them you’d known her since birth. While most kids in your age group had grown up thinking you were odd, Madalyn had decided that you were just interesting. That interest had turned into a friendship that would span years and miles more than many friendships do.

While the things you both enjoyed, like Leonardo DiCaprio and Ben Affleck, certainly brought you together, it was your differences that made you click like the pieces of a puzzle. Only true friends can debate on opposite sides of an argument and then end the night eating popcorn while watching Space Jam in the living room.

“His name is Harvey.” When Madalyn’s eyebrows go up this time, it is from surprise. You’ve never been one to socialize with anyone of the opposite gender, much less become ‘kinda friends’ with them. Plus, as a young lady of very womanly curves, she’s quite aware of the way some guys cross the line on a regular basis.

“(Y/N)-” You wave your hand in the air, once again pushing at the bangs that keep falling in your face. You should have never cut them in the first place, and you never would have if you realized what a hassle they would be when you started growing them out.

“I don’t like him like that. He’s just a really nice guy, helps me with homework and walks me to a class or two. We’ve never even met up outside of school.” Her eyes are still narrowed, a stray dark wave falling from the hair comb that pins the top half of her hair away from her face.

Eventually, she changes the subject. Trusting that you are smart enough to know when things have gotten out of hand and how to take care of it.

“So why are you growing your bangs out? I thought you liked them. Didn’t you say they make you look more grown up?” You unstick your thighs from the leather booth seat, pinning her with a look that she knows all too well.

“Now that’s a crazy story.” She also makes herself comfortable in her seat, preparing herself for a story. It’s probably a good thing you’re a phenomenal story teller, or else she would have gotten tired of all the stories you tell really quickly.

“So last month a girl comes forward and reports that she was cornered by a man she didn’t know on her way from the library back to her dorm. He held her at gun point and rapes her. It got kinda big, because she was rallying a group of men and women to escort girls around campus. And, I mean, I understand the unease she must feel, and I was sympathetic, but I was kind of confused why there was so much uproar over one rape.”

Having finished your own fries, you reach across the table and steal one from your outraged best friend. Before she can grab it back, you’ve shoved it into your mouth.

“Until a second girl comes forward and says that she reported the same thing happening to her a month ago. The campus, meanwhile, is doing nothing about it. No increased security, no curfew, not even acknowledged them.”

“For two girls?”

“For five,” The pause you take is natural, scooting the bottom of your cup across the tabletop so you could sip from the straw without picking the cup up, but it reads as dramatic effect. “And that’s not even the craziest part.”

One dark eyebrow raised into her hairline, waiting for you to continue the story and also answer the question.

“Every victim was a freshman, so they’re a little on the younger side, they all had the same hair color and style, all had the same body type, all were the same height, all had the same eye color.” This time you do pause for dramatic effect, using the silence to build the tension.

“And all of them look exactly like me. Bangs and all.”

Madalyn leans forward a little, suddenly very worried about you going back next month. As she hurriedly tries to make sure you are taking the necessary precautions during a scary time like this, Flora floats around the diner, stopping to fill up the cup of a single man just behind your booth. All he has is black coffee, a textbook of some kind is splayed open across the table but he doesn’t seem to be too interested in it. Instead, he leans back in his seat, his ears listening to your every word.

“So in summary, I’m growing out my bangs because that’s obviously apart of this dude’s type.” Madalyn doesn’t protest anymore when you reach for another fry on her plate.

“Stop looking at me like that. I’m going to be fine. I’ll even color my hair if you’re so worried.” And the conversation continues, your best friend overly worried about you and your life as a fifteen year old college student, and you masking your fear for appearances sake. Harvey, however, finishes his coffee and asks for the bill.

He thought you were smarter than that. He thought you were smart enough to connect the dots and at least notice that he’d done all of it for you. That you were his everything. Apparently that was wrong. One day you’ll figure it out, of that he is certain.

For now though, you don’t even notices when he passes your table to get to the door.

Present Day

Spencer steps away from the car door, the cool wind hitting his cheeks and tousling his hair. It helps the dizziness in his head, and the nausea in his stomach, but it doesn’t help the sharp pain in his heart. His brain is swimming in all of the information, putting the pieces of the crime scene together like it was a puzzle.

“He left her in the driver’s seat after stabbing her from the backseat, walking around the front before knocking her out and carrying her to his own vehicle.” JJ looks back at the car, peering around crime scene analysts as they hurry about collecting evidence.

“She tried to leave, but her tires spun in the mud.” Rossi notes, nodding to the mud splatter along the sides of your car and the tiny graves each tire has dug into the ground for itself.

“There’s blood in the back.” Spencer finally speaks, looking away from the backseat window and back to his two partners. All eyes flick to the back seat where there is indeed two drops of blood on the floor and a smear of it on the headrest of the passenger seat.

“If he’s in any system then we’ll catch him.” Rossi said, nodding for the techs to collect what they could from the back. Spencer turns back to the car, well aware that there wasn’t anything else here for them the find that would lend them any information as to your whereabouts.

“In a system or not, I will hunt him to the ends of the earth before I let him get away with this.”

Back at the BAU, Prentiss makes calls to your mother and your best friend, Madalyn. Both answer on the first ring, and both are all the more willing to answer any questions that may assist the team in finding the man who had taken you.

“Is there anyone you remember (Y/N) mentioning that maybe stood out to you or her as creepy and stalkerish?” Your mother doesn’t recall anyone, having been focused on so many different cases during your childhood and having been so distant from you since you decided to not become a detective.

Madalyn, however, is quick to answer with a name Prentiss recalls crossing off the list of persons of interest.

“Harvey Morgenstein. They were friends in college, and although it weirded me out because he was a lot older than her at the time, he seemed harmless and I trusted (Y/N). But then he became her agent’s personal assistant all coincidentally and it just seemed too fishy to me.” Prentiss writes the name down, sliding it across the table with a pointed look at Garcia.

As quick as lightning, Harvey’s life history is pulled up between computer screens for both women to delve into.

Harvey is a short man with a wide build that, in earlier pictures, shows him to be more soft than muscly. His hair is dirty blonde but his eyes are two dark circles of coal that seem to pierce through the screen and into the souls of both Penelope and Emily.

“He’s totally not creepy looking.” Garcia remarks sarcastically, eyes sweeping across the information given to her the way Reid’s eyes might fly up and down the pages of a book or a case file.

“Tell me about it.” Emily replies, leaning into the seat designated for those on the team who so wished to give Penelope a visit while remaining off their feet.

“Harvey is a pretty normal guy for the most part. Single child of a Harvey and Lucille Morgenstein. Graduated from Georgetown in 2000 with a major in computer technology, minor in criminology.”

“The same graduating class as (Y/N).” Prentiss notes, her eyes just behind Garcia’s as articles and documents fly around the computer. Where some people talked with their hands, Garcia talked with her screens. The constant tap-tap-tapping of rings and fingers against the keyboard was like the audible churnining of cogs in her brain.

“Yeah, he spent some time as an IT guy at Georgetown before he got a job as a personal assistant. The only spot on his squeaky clean record that I can find is that he was a person of interest in a few rape cases involving some girls on campus back in the late 90’s, but he had alibis for every single one so they let him walk.” The pictures of every victim pop up across the screen in the form of a newspaper article talking about the serial rappings.

Gasps come from both their mouths as the dots connect.

“Call Reid and the others, and then call the agent. I think I may know what is going on.”

A couple of hours later and the pieces are all starting to come together.

Harvey had been the serial rapist from the 90s, attacking women who looked like you out of anger over not having you for himself, and pure obsession. After graduation, he tried to move on by distancing himself from you, but when his mother was diagnosed with cancer he fell back into his old stalkerish ways.

He followed your every move through your agent, who was the only person you spoke to the most outside of your mom and Madalyn.

After a little digging into unsolved rape cases in the area, it was obvious from the victimology and an oddly specific M.O. where he bit each of his victims on the neck, that he had also fallen back into his perverted rapist ways.

Harvey might have been content to stay like that, an obvious self esteem issue keeping him from ever approaching you directly for a date, until a month ago. Not even two days after the death of his sick mother, you and Spencer went on your first date outside of the bookstore. A double trigger.

In a sick and twisted display of love, Harvey started killing people the way you’d written deaths in your books. But with every death you continued to ignore him and see Spencer.

“Eventually it all became too much for him to handle and he snapped, kidnapping (Y/N) and calling to taunt Reid over his victory.” Hotch passed a hand over his face. The sirens blared loudly as they raced for Harvey’s house just outside of Quantico.

“This guy has been stalking her for a ridiculous amount of time.” Morgan commented with a shudder, sympathy and guilt from the earlier interrogation eating at him as the black SUV careens around a corner.

When they bust through his door, clearing each room and finding a creepy amount of pictures and papers about you, they realize that he has taken you somewhere else. And who do you call when you’re at a dead end and you need information?

“You’ve reached Penelope Garcia in the FBI’s Office of Supreme Genius.”

___

Breaking a chair that is nailed to the floor is a lot harder than it sounds, and it already sounds kinda hard.

There was a lot of kicking and hitting and some bruises were definitely starting to form, but the amount of blood coming from your leg was scary. The chances that the knife had nicked your femoral artery were relatively slim, especially given how long you’ve been bleeding, but you couldn’t help but waver on the side of caution.

After several failed attempts of throwing your body into the wood and kicking and hitting and pulling and crying and then repeating the cycle, you managed to pop a leg off. While the base of the leg stayed nailed to the floor, you spent the rest of your time trying to tear the chair from the rest of the legs, when you did you threw the top half against the concrete wall.

Taking two spindles from the back, you quickly scurry back to the mattress and wait for him to return. It’s only a matter of time before he decides to come back down here to taunt you or try something.

In your short time in what Harvey has so lovingly deemed ‘your room,’ you have come to a couple conclusions in an attempt to distract yourself from the excruciating pain in your thigh.

One being that this is not Harvey’s home. Of that you’re one hundred percent certain. Upstairs, you can hear the sound of two sets of feet thudding around. You can only assume this is his childhood home. You remember that his mother had died about a month ago, causing him to resign from his position as your agent’s personal assistant. She had mentioned to you that he planned to help his father as much as he could before he too passed away.

The second being that you were probably going to loose your leg. Any move this way or that sends a thousand knives through every nerve in your body. Your throat is scratchy and sore from how long you’ve been yelling, both in trying to get someone’s attention and in pain.

The light coming from the small window next to the ceiling hasn’t even begun to wane with the falling sun when the door opens again. The chain around your uninjured leg clatters when you pull your knee up to your chest. You don’t even attempt to move the other leg.

Harvey appears in the opening, a tray of food balances in his hands as he shuts the door behind him.

“Find some weapons?” He asks casually, setting the tray beside the lamp as he sinks to his knees on the mattress. Your knuckles are white around each spindle, the inside of your mouth is sensitive to the touch from how much nervous chewing you’ve been doing.

“Get away from me, or I’ll kill you.” You seethe, fighting through the swimming in your head that hasn’t gone away since you woke up here. He gives you a look like you’re a misbehaving child, but it’s soon replaced with anger when you slap him across the face with one of your weapons.

You were hoping the attack would break skin, but all it does is turns the skin over his cheekbone dark red.

Faster than you can blink, he pins both your wrists with one of his hands above your head on the mattress, using the other hand to deftly pluck each spindle from your grip.

“I’ve done so much for you. I’ve given you a room, and a career, and so much more, and yet you attack me.” The wooden spindles hit the wall next to the door, his body lowers to yours in a way you know means more trouble.

“You’re a creep and a perv and I don’t want you to touch me! You’ve done nothing for me. Only for yourself.” In a way that would make any young boy proud to know you, you collect all the spit and bile in your mouth before shooting it into his face. Part of it hits him in the eye, causing him to roar in outrage.

He lets you go, giving you a brief moment of relief, but he only wipes away the loogey before rocking his hand back hard enough to crack against the side of your face. In your moment of disorientation, he flips you to your stomach and undoes the cuff from around your leg. The chain rings against the ground when he tosses it to the side.

His knee went to your back, his hands went to your waist, and the moment you manage to come back to yourself, your fingers clawed at whatever flesh you could find near you. You screamed and flailed as much as you could, the shooting pain of your leg barely noticeable when your body was in panic mode.

All you can think as that this is the kind of thing you read about. People don’t actually get kidnapped and rapped by people they knew in college. But you know that isn’t true either. You are the daughter of a detective, things like this were apart of your everyday life growing up. Just never as personal as you or a friend being the victim. For some reason that makes you fight harder, a sickly feelings creeping into your throat when you felt his fingers brush under the hem of your underwear.

Then a sound pulled you from your hysteria, the door fell to the ground and a swarm of FBI Agents descended upon the concrete basement you still refused to call ‘your room.’ Spencer was the last of them to enter, but the unadulterated fury in his eyes was enough to tell you that was not a decision on his part.

To you, and maybe even everyone else in the room who managed to look at him for longer than a millisecond, he looked like an avenging angel. Every chocolate caramel curl perfectly framed his face, which looked like it was carved out of stone. His jaw was so tense you could slice your finger if your ran it along the edge. The revolver in his hands was unwavering, only growing in steadiness when he caught compromising position you were in.

The sob that came out of your throat was one of relief. Harvey lifted you from the mattress, reaching into his pocket to pull out that damned pocket knife. He held you so close to his chest that it made your skin crawl.

“Harvey Morgensten, drop the weapon.” Morgan’s voice boomed around the room. Harvey held you with one arm tensed around the front of your shoulders and the other holding a knife to your neck.

“She’s mine! You weren’t supposed to be able to find us!” He screamed, you winced away from the shrilling pitch that scraped against the inside of your ear. It caused him to push the knife into the skin over your exposed collarbone, blood beading around the the metal tip. Your heart was hammering beneath your ribs, your hands flexing at your sides, your mind racing for a way to get out of this situation.

Spencer’s lip went up in a snarl, you half expected him to let a growl tear through his chest as if he was a lion standing against an enemy. The hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention when he took a hesitant step forward, his eyes softening for just a fraction of a second when he looks down at you.

In that fraction of a second all of his defenses fall and you can see all the grief and panic in the bags under his eyes and the raw skin of his bottom lip.

“She was never yours, Harvey.” Spencer says, wincing when Harvey responds by yanking you even closer than before. His breath is hot on your neck, his lips so close that they brush against the skin on the back of your shoulder when he speaks.

“She was never yours, Dr. Reid. She is mine, she always will be.” You cry out in surprise, your fingers coming up to scratch at the arm around your shoulders when a pair of teeth sink into the crook of your neck as if you were the victim of a vampire or something equally supernatural and territorial.

The action has the desired effect on every agent watching, especially Reid, who stumbles forward before Hotch grabs him by the back of his arm. They don’t have a shot, not without hurting you. That much you can tell just from the look they share. It doesn’t take a genius to look around and see that the end of every gun in the room is pierced right through you.

It makes you angry. You grind the back of your teeth together when a dark chuckles echoes from behind you. In your mind’s eye, you see it all happening the way you see a scene from a book playing before you like a movie.

Reaching up with one hand, you grab the onto the arm holding the knife. With the pad of your thumb, you shove every bit of strength you have into the soft skin at the inside of his wrist. At the same time, you pull your head forward before sending it reeling back onto his already broken nose. This time, you can feel the crunch of bones as your skull makes contact with his face.

Simultaneously, he drops the knife to the floor with a cry and drops his arms to reach for his gushing nose. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you manage the couple of steps forward into Spencer’s arms. In a quick and graceful display of surprising strength, he carries you back into his embrace and spins around to shield you from the monster staggering back toward you.

Prentiss is quick to catch him in his blind pursuit for you, twisting both of his arms back without an ounce of sympathy for his pain. The jingle of handcuffs precede the finality of each click around his wrists.

“Everything I did, I did for you! I made your book come to life, I ruined the reputation of those girls, I did it all for you.” Harvey struggles against the restraints, twisting his body any way that he can to get a glimpse of you curled into Spencer’s chest.

You brain is caught between reality and a distant world, everything around you feels like make believe. Only the feeling of Spencer’s sweater curled into your fingers and his hand on the back of your head feels real. Harvey’s voice is like a recording being played three blocks away, still loud enough to hear but not close enough to focus on. He’s hissing threats and insults at Spencer’s back, that psycho-something in him finally snapping under the circumstances.

Somebody is yelling for a medic and there, just underneath it all, is the sound of someone wailing in such a way that words could never accurately describe the intense pain and grief being carried on every screaming sob. As the events from the last twelve hours come rushing back to you, reality takes the reins of your mind.

It’s you that’s crying like that. That desperate, broken sound is coming from your heaving chest. When your leg finally gives out from under you, the pain too much for your body to bare, he was already there holding you.

The screams fade into small shattered sobs just in time for medics to descend the stairs. Their hands are voices are everywhere, medical jargon flying over your head as they pry your hands from Spencer’s sweater. You pull back from every touch, the thoughts in your brain flying too fast for you to keep up.

It takes them a while to get you to the ambulance, but when they do you start to panic.

“Spencer?!” You cry out, unable to move your head too much due to the neck brace and head strap holding you down. It takes only a second for him to come into view, his eyes glassy and his smile watery. His hand slips into yours before they raise you up to the ambulance, your hand is icy to the touch.

The paramedics had mentioned a possible concussion, excessive blood loss, and signs of acute compartment syndrome. The fact that you had remained conscious and walking this long was a testament to your strong will and fighting spirit.

“Don’t leave me.” You whispered, the black around the edges of your vision creeping in despite how hard you fought it. Spencer almost winced from how hard you tightened the grip on his fingers. His mouth moved, but you never heard the response, your mind fading quickly with every second.

“Don’t leave.”

The sound of a heart monitor steadily beeping was what woke you up. Groaning from all the aches and pains that surged up with consciousness, your eyes fluttered open before squinting into the bright hospital lights.

Your mother was the first thing that popped into your field of vision. The last time she had looked at you with such worry, you’d been in the ER after flipping your car into a ditch. In your defense, it was dark and, as a young driver, you over corrected when you hit a patch of standing water.

“Mama?” You pushed up on the bed, the pillow behind your head falling to the space between your lower back and the mattress. Your mom was quick to pick it up and fluff it back behind your head. She must really be concerned. Had they found cancer while you were out or something?

“Oh my goodness, (Y/N), you had me so worried.” Gingerly, you pressed the heel of your hand to the bandage that stuck to your hair and the corner of your head. Brushing the butterfly stitches that went across the cut on your cheek, you barely had time to react before she pulled you into a breath-stealing hug.

The wound on your neck smarted with the movement and you hissed in pain. Your mom pulled back, squishing your cheeks between her hands as tears began to collect on her lower lash line. Your mother was not the type to cry, about really anything, as far as you knew of. So to see her tearing up like this only added to the confusion and shock you were already feeling.

“Never join law enforcement. I thought I wanted you to, but I can’t deal with this kidnapping and near-death nonsense. I’m getting too old for it.” She teased tenderly, releasing your face from the death grip of love to wipe away the tears before they fell down her cheeks.

“When did you get here?” You asked, taking note of all the wires and tubes that connected to your body via IVs and sticky pads. A glance down at your leg eased the fear that you might have sustained a leg wound that would take your leg from you. You didn’t move it for fear of the pain you could already feel throbbing to the beat of your heart.

The bed dipped under your mother’s weight as she sat beside you, gathering one of your hands into both of hers. Scars littered the knuckles that had wiped away your tears and taught you to throw punches.

“I only got here about an hour ago, but you’ve had round the clock protection from the FBI so no need to get panicky. I can see that look creeping into your eyes.” Her own eyes squint a little, those highly observant detective skills kicking in. She’s always been able to read you like an open book, making you wonder if she would have been good at profiling.

Of course she would have, your mother was good at everything she set her mind to.

“FBI?” You’re full of so many questions, but they all fall away when you mom shifts out of your line of sight to reveal the sleeping agent tucked away into the corner of the room.

Spencer is curled onto a hospital chair that is placed into a corner beside the window looking out over the parking lot. His back is leaned against the wall, one shoulder leaned against the back of the chair. One long leg is curled into the seat and the other is stretched out next to the chair. From across the room, you can see the shadows his eyelashes cast across his cheekbones in slumber. Oddly enough, your first thought is of Sleeping Beauty.

The sight is enough to make your heart feel like it’s squeezing around a ball of broken glass. Before your mother can read too much into the mixture of emotions that, surely, skew your features, you look away.

“He’s been here since they brought you in. I met his team, they’re a fine group of agents. You didn’t tell me you were friends with anyone in the FBI.” Before she can say anything else, you clear your throat. Putting one hand, a little dramatically, to your chest you give your mother a look you haven’t used since you were a kid trying to stay home from school.

“Mama, I’m a little hungry. Can you get me something to eat?” It works like a charm. You’ve never seen your mother jump so quickly before, she races out the door like a woman on a mission. It warms your aching heart.

“Maybe you should have tried acting.” Spencer’s voice is groggy with sleep as he sits up and stretches into awareness.

“How long have you been awake?” He meets your gaze, his expression soft and earth-shaking. When you imagined seeing Spencer wake up first thing in the morning, it was never in a hospital room while feelings of betrayal and confusion stabbed into your chest.

“Just long enough to hear your mom talk about my team. She’s a nice lady.” He doesn’t move from the chair, sensing the tension in the room the way only a profiler can. He’s afraid that if he gets up, you’ll make him leave. He doesn’t need to know that he’s right.

“How long have I been out?” You’re asking every question except the one you’ve been dying to ask.

“A day. You had a pretty bad concussion and acute compartment syndrome in your leg. They weren’t sure you were going to be able to retain control of the muscle given how long you were kept hostage with it untreated, but I know you’re too stubborn to let that happen.” The silence that follows is stifling, your eyes interlocked in a battle of wills.

Was this the same man that had accused you of being a serial killer?

You’re the first to look away, fidgeting with a fray string from the blanket thrown over your legs.

“I think we need some time apart.”

“I’m so incredibly sorry.” You both speak at the same time, but your words drain the blood from Spencer’s face when they finally register. He had hoped that, by some miracle, you would forgive him of the unforgivable sin he had committed against you in the name of justice. He understood why you didn’t.

“I just,” The threads of the blanket you recognize from your childhood bedroom bump underneath your fingers when you smooth your hand over it, “I want to forgive you. But all I keep thinking is that none of this would have happened to me if you had used all those brains in your head instead of all the insecurities in you heart.”

It’s like a slap across the face, and yet Spencer can’t help but feel like he deserves it. Even still, none of it hurts as much as the crack in your voice and the tears that you try so desperately to blink away before he can see them.

It isn’t often that Spencer Reid is rendered speechless, but the guilt and heartache have stolen all the words of every language and all the breath from the air right out of his mouth.

“It’s still so fresh in my mind, I think if we distance ourselves then we’ll be able to come back to something rather than trying to scramble to bridge together the chasm that has formed between us.”

He wants to argue, everything in him screams that he needs to fight for you, but the look in your eyes stops him. If you need space, then space is what he will give you. Spencer would do anything to make this right. He wishes he had the intelligence and technology to build a time machine and go back to two mornings ago.

“I understand,” he says solemnly, trying to talk around the hurt in his chest that is growing like a tumor. “But I promised I wouldn’t leave you. I’ll give you space, but I’m only giving you the space of the wall between this room and the hallway.”

And then he’s gone, staying true to his word and sinking to the floor outside your room. When you mother comes back, holding a collection of jellos and cookies and granola bars from the hospital cafeteria, her steps falter at the sight of the young doctor outside your door.

Inside you’re curled into yourself, taking very deliberate breaths into the cotton stuffed pillow you have buried into your chest. You half expect your heart monitor to be screaming for the nurses, but despite a small quickening in the constant beeps, it gives away none of your heartbreak.

“(Y/N)?” You look up, meeting your mothers eyes with tear stained cheeks. Your head is going to be throbbing later, but for now you’re only focused on the sharp pains shooting through your ribs and clouding every other pain in your body.

Between one gasp of air and the next, your mother drops all the foods to the chair vacated by Spencer before rushing to pull you into her arms.

“Can you die from a broken heart?” You whimper, feeling like a small child as you bury your head into her chest. She smells like home, running her hand over the back of your head with gentle shushing sounds.

Outside, Spencer wipes at his own tears, a silent statue of sadness protecting you from everything but himself.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #dr spence reid #spence reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds

[twokinkybeans]

Four Times Peter’s Radioactivity Worked Against Him and the One Time It Worked In His Favor [STARKER]

Summary: Now that Peter is radioactive, his surroundings start responding to him. And he starts to respond to his surroundings differently as well. His newfound infatuation with bananas are a difficult thing for Tony to deal with. Note: there is a snippet of science-y truth in what I wrote, but I also took major creative liberty with what happens. Warnings/tags: Food kink, Praise kink, Dom/Sub undertones, Subspace, Under-negotiated kink, Teasing, Dirty Talk, “For science” sure Tones, Implied Blowjob, BANANAS! (also Peter is an adult when the sexy things happen). Read it on AO3!

Four Times Peter’s Radioactivity Worked Against Him 1. Tick Tock It’s been three days since Peter Parker got his spider powers. He’s still trying to get a hang of everything, but at least he’s got his stickiness under control. Everything is just so loud and so intense. Constantly. The sensory overload has made him cranky to say the least, but it’s not like he can just skip school. With the sweaty, yelling students, screeching chalkboards and itchy PE uniforms. Not to mention the school bell. The anticipation practically hurts as much as the shrill ringing in his ears does. Another sound that has shivers run up and down Peter’s spine is Flash’s voice. “Check out my new watch!” He announces to the class as he saunters in, wrist raised to the ceiling. He grins, showing off the expensive piece of technology. Peter doesn’t know why but the device has his eye twitch. He stands up confused and walks over to Flash, drawn by the watch, somehow. “What brand is it?“ He asks innocently. “Wow, didn’t think it’d catch your attention, Penis,” Flash scoffs. “Gucci. Nothing you could ever afford.” “Huh…” Peter frowns, unable to look away from Flash’s wrist. His eyes go wide when he notices the arms are shaking slightly. Are they supposed to do that? “I know, it’s pretty rad. Even glows in the dark!” Flash turns to Ned, who just walked into the classroom. “Ned, turn off the lights!” Ned pulls a face but moves to turn off the light anyways, but when it’s dark in the classroom, no light comes from Flash’s wrist. “It- It works, I swear!” Flash taps the glass three times. “Stupid fucking watch.” With Flash’s limited patience, it doesn’t take long for him to rip it off and toss it away from him. Peter’s newfound reflexes cause him to catch it mid-air, but the second his skin makes contact with the watch, a bright flash of light makes everyone in the room cover their eyes and scream. ... 2. Emergency Exit Peter has no idea when he started eating bananas so much. There’s just something about them that tastes absolutely amazing. How did he never realize this earlier? The fruit is now part of his daily diet now. They give him enough energy to run around school and as Spider-Man, so he’s not complaining. At least he’s not addicted to sugar or hamburgers, right? Peter munches on his second banana of the day when the fire alarm stirs the school. All the lights go out. Peter looks up at the ceiling, but he doesn’t feel any alarm. He’s learned he can rely on his gut way better now, with his spider powers, so this must be a test. He quickly stands up, though, not wanting to seem disinterested in the fact that there was an evacuation going on. The emergency exit sign lights the way to safety for all the students. Peter runs towards the fire escape and stops, wanting to make sure everyone else gets to run out first. Above him, the escape sign starts flickering. He looks up at it and frowns, wondering why now of all times it decided to give out. Maybe that’s why this test was happening? To see which emergency lights still worked? Once all of the students are out of the cafeteria, Peter leaves too. When there’s a bit of distance between him and the door, he looks back and notices the light works properly again. ... 3. Thrifted TV It’s been over half a year since Peter has last gone to the thrift store. He’s very excited to get some new-old stuff to tinker with. Ben’s death and him becoming Spider-Man put a damper on his hobbies. He was able to make his goggles and web shooters with the scrap he still had lying around, but now he’s in desperate need of some new-old stuff. The thrift store is creaky and dusty. Exactly the way Peter used to like it. Now everything just tickles his nose. Still, he can’t help the feeling of nostalgia curling around him like a weighted blanket on a cold winter’s day. Peter snakes through the clutter filled paths, keeping an eye out for hidden gems. “Peter Parker!” “Hi, Mister Cheung!” Peter smiles politely at the thrift store owner. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Thought you moved on to another shop.” The old man shuffles away from behind the counter and folds his hands together. “Wouldn’t dare, sir! You’re my go-to for old tech.” Peter glances around a table and picks up a few items to study them up close. “That’s good to hear, boy. What’s your latest project? Anything you need? Maybe I can hook you up with the right stuff!” Mister Cheung grins and excitedly bops his head side to side. “My latest project is- eh…” Peter glances down at his hands, hiding his web shooters a little more in the sleeves of his sweater. “Something for school, actually. Nothing too interesting, to be honest. Do you happen to have an old TV lying around?” “Just one, but yes! Follow me, follow me!” Mister Cheung excitedly makes his way to the back corner of his store. “This ol’ Philips still works!” He pats it proudly, with his flat palm. “Though, I don’t think you need it to work, do you?” “Nah, there’s just one part that I really need, honestly. If you’d rather sell it to someone who-“ Peter takes a step closer and the TV suddenly starts to tick loudly. Mister Cheung takes a startled step away from it and Peter gasps. His yet-to-be-named sixth sense buzzes every part of him, so he quickly jumps towards Mister Cheung, and closer to the TV. It ticks louder and louder, as a warning of something that’s about to happen. Peter shields the shop owner with his body at exactly the right moment. A loud bang thrashes through the store and something hits Peter’s back. When everything seems to be over, Peter steps away from Mister Cheung. “Sir, are you okay?” The corners of the man’s mouth curl down, but he nods. “Are you?” “Something big tapped my back, but I’m fine,” Peter says with an encouraging smile. He turns around to see a large chunk of the TV on the floor behind him. Any regular person would’ve gotten floored by that. He decides not to mention that to Mister Cheung, hoping he doesn’t notice. He looks back at the wreckage again and frowns. He squats next to it and wonders what’s drawing him towards it. Peter rummages around it for a bit and pulls out a specific piece. The CRT. “That what you need?” Mister Cheung asks quietly as he looks around the corner of the store. More items got destroyed in the process. Peter feels bad for him- for what happened. Especially once it finally clicks. CRTs emit low levels of radiation. “Not exactly, but…” He looks back again at the mess that was caused by the explosion. “Let me help you clean up.” ... 4. Wet shoes Peter never dared to dream of being in the Avengers Tower. More specifically, he never dared to dream of being allowed in Tony Stark’s lab. To work with him. On whatever project. Peter didn’t really care what they were going to work on, the invitation in and of itself already had Peter nearly puking with excited anxiety. Right now, he was being guided through the hallways by the hero he looked up to ever since he could remember. “Right, so-“ Tony explain as he carelessly points around the space as he talks. “You’re still too much of a young sprite so we’re not letting you up to the penthouse just yet. You’ve got clearance to most of the labs, though. I trust you know your way around them.” Peter somehow manages to listen both super intently and not at all. He stares straight at the back of Tony’s perfect hair with wide, wonder-filled eyes. “-if that’s alright with you. And then this…” Tony stops walking and gestures at a closed door. “…is where all the magic happens.” If Peter’s grin could grow any wider, it would have. He bounces from his left to his right foot and with an encouraging nod from his mentor, Peter moves to open the door. In Peter’s mind, a bright, inviting light shines upon him and an angel choir sings. This is everything Peter imagined it would be and more. Slowly, he sets one foot in the room, taking in the space and its contents. The desks and holo-table. The little kitchen area in the corner and the robots. Oh, the robots! And the cars on display! And the older Iron Man suits in the other corner! Peter is about ready to throw up for real. He takes another step into the room and then… There’s a loud, insistent alarm blaring through Tony Stark’s workshop and before Peter can turn around to rush out, the door shuts on him. “Woah!” Tony exclaims from the other side. “Kid, that’s the fire alarm! Barn door protocol! Everything’s fine, just don’t be startled when-“ The sprinklers turn on. Peter yelps surprised at the amount of water hitting his body and within seconds he is absolutely soaked. After a minute, the sprinklers stop and the door gets unlocked. The blaring of the fire-alarm is still going. Tony walks in, absolutely confused as to what’s going on and he finds a shivering Peter, hugging himself as all the water drips down his body, making the puddle on the floor even larger. Lucky for Tony, all of his stuff in this room is water proof and the cars were separated by glass. “Fri, was there actually a fire?” “No, sir, the smoke detectors were activated. Something is interfering with its signal.” “Is?” “Yes, sir. Is.” Tony glances at Peter and sniffs once, wondering what made the detector tick when Peter walked in. “Can you source it?” “It’s Peter Parker, sir.” The AI replies dryly. Peter scoffs out loud, causing Tony to look at him surprised. “How sensitive are your detectors?” The teen asks. There’s a slight edge to his tone and Tony doesn’t know what to think of it just yet. “Quite. More than regular ones, at least. Fri, please lower the sensitivity of the detectors.” Almost immediately, the incessant beeping stops. “Are you telling me this happened before?” Tony puts his hands on his hips as he walks towards the kitchen to grab Peter a few towels. “I only learned this a little while ago, but…” Peter sighs and turns. “The spider that bit me was radioactive and ever since that happened some devices respond strangely to me.” His eyebrows raise up to his hairline. “Do your smoke detectors happen to be the kind that have americium-241 in them?” “Well, yes, but-“ Tony interrupts himself, scoffing a laugh when he realizes why Peter asked. “That stuff’s radioactive too.” “Slightly, but yeah. Made an old TV explode, emergency exit signs become faulty when I’m near them, it’s annoying. Did you know ceramics are slightly radioactive? I’ve had old plates snap the second I touched them!” “Fri, give Peter a scan, please.” --- The One Time It Worked In His Favor Bananaddiction It’s been about eight years now and Peter practically lived in Tony’s workshop at this point. They are so in tune they barely have to talk anymore. When they do talk, nobody else can keep up with them Bruce could if he put in the effort, but then, it also takes a lot of effort. So he doesn’t usually join conversations unless the topic genuinely interests him. Peter is now completely comfortable in the workshop and around Tony. His teenage crush on his mentor might be gone, but that doesn’t mean there are no feelings left. They are now more deeply rooted inside him. More solid. Real. It’s no longer as fleeting as the puppy love he felt when he was younger. He was glad his younger self was never stupid enough to act upon his obsession with the older man, but now they are so in sync that if you told a stranger the two tinkerers are married, they would believe you. Unfortunately, Peter is painfully aware the older man would never want him in the way Peter wants Tony. He still calls Peter kid, even though Peter’s well in his twenties now. Everything about Tony’s behaviour screams at Peter that he really is just Tony’s mentee. Nothing more. And that hurts. There’s one obsession Peter still has. His extreme and undeniable love and craving for bananas. Something about it made Peter feel a little self-conscious. So, he only ever eats one in the labs. The others that he eats during the day are incorporated in his breakfast and during late night patrols. Peter never really cared to figure out why bananas are so absolutely, insanely delicious and he doesn’t want any of his now-colleagues to think he’s weird. So, his bananaddiction is a secret. Up until now. “Hey, kid,” Tony says from his seat. He’s bent over some file work as Peter walks into the workshop and tosses his backpack in a corner. “How was uni?” “Boring. Still fourteen classes ahead of everybody else.” “Good for you.” As sarcastic as it may sound, Peter can take it from Tony. He knows Tony is genuinely proud of Peter for performing so well, as it also means Peter gets to spend a lot of time in the workshop that way too. It only takes a split second for Peter’s eye to twitch and his body practically guides him to the fruit bowl in the corner kitchen like a Looney Toons character would float towards a good smelling dish. His lips are pressed together as he stares at the yellow gold in the bowl. Twelve bananas. Twelve wonderful, beautiful, delicious bananas were right there waiting for Peter to devour them. “Noticed you eat bananas literally every day, so I figured I’d indulge. Saves you some money too, since you’re still on a student budget,” Tony huffs, quietly referencing the fact that Peter still doesn’t want to get paid more than necessary for his work. Peter’s eyes are stuck on the bananas as he contemplates how many he should eat with Tony around. Not many. Not three. Maybe not even two. Maybe two? One. Definitely. Peter practically lunges forward as he takes a banana from the bowl and gratefully makes his way to Tony’s desk to have a look at what the older hero is up to. He cocks his head to read the paper. “Still working through the amendments for the Accords?” “World leaders are frustrating people, Parker.” As Tony talks, Peter strips the banana of its peel. He wraps his lips around it instantly and closes his eyes when the familiar taste hits his tongue. His eyes open wide when he realizes he just moaned. Tony’s entire body is tensed up, the ball point pen clenched between his fingers. He doesn’t look at Peter and the young adult silently hopes the man will ignore what just happened. Thankfully, he does. After an hour, the banana bowl already calls to Peter again. Like a siren on the shores or the Dark Side of the Force. The temptation is excruciating and annoyingly distracting. When Peter only had his one banana on him, there were no other bananas left to eat. It was easier to think of other things. Right now, with the other eleven bananas still waiting for Peter to stuff his throat with them, there was no telling when he’d snap. He takes a breath. And another one. He can get through this. He’s strong. He won’t break. He won’t eat another banana. “Pete, this is your fourth banana, are you okay?” Peter’s lips are still wrapped around what’s left of the third banana he didn’t mean to eat. Okay, so maybe he was weak. For bananas, at least. With big eyes, he looks up at Tony, who now stands next to him, from his desk seat. The man’s pupils are dilated and it’s only when Peter realizes what he must look like with his cheeks stuffed with banana and his lips half suckling on the length, that he looks down to see Tony’s very obvious hard-on. Peter scrambles to take the rest of the banana out of his mouth, but unfortunately for him, it makes a wet popping sound, causing Tony to curse under his breath. “I- I weally wike bananas, m-sowwy-“ Tony blinks at Peter. Once. Twice. Something about the shift in his expression makes Peter imagine a little bulb lighting up above Tony’s head. “Potassium.” Peter quickly swallows away the delectable fruit. “Wha-?” “Bananas are radioactive, Pete. You eat them because you- well…” “I vibe with them?” “Yeah, I guess you could put it like that.” Tony takes a step back and scratches his goatee. The man then turns to walk back to his desk. “Just… Just don’t eat too many a day, alright?” Peter swallows again and then nods. “I’ll try,” he replies sheepishly, a lopsided smile plastered on his face. It’s nearing 2AM and Peter is trying really hard not to grab his sixth banana. He already informed Tony that the fifth one would be his last. He can’t go back on that now. He curses his high metabolism, because he is actually hungry. There are a ton of other things in the kitchen to munch on, but his mind and his cravings still gravitate towards the yummy bananas. “Do you want me to get the stuff out of here?” Tony snorts. “You’re obviously not focussed because of them.” Peter sighs and drops himself back against his chair. “Mister Stark, it’s just so good. I can’t explain it.” A sly grin grows on Tony’s face. “Try me. For scientific purposes, of course.” Peter stares at the ceiling. When he opens his mouth to speak, Tony immediately interrupts him again. “Wait-“ Peter sits up straight to watch Tony walk towards the kitchen area. He takes one banana from the batch and tosses it at Peter who easily catches it. The fruit seems to vibrate in Peter’s hand, but that might just be his imagination. Tony grabs a chair and pulls it closer towards Peter, until he sits down right across from him, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I’m really curious how it is for you,” Tony admits. “To me it’s just a banana.” Peter faux gasps. “Just a banana?” He then smirks. “Oh, you wound me.” “Go on, kid, tell me.” Both of them laugh as Peter starts peeling the banana, already infatuated with it again. It’s a long one this time, at least nine inches. “Do you… Do you know that feeling that you get when you haven’t eaten something in a while and then you put something in that taste absolutely divine?” Peter’s mouth salivates as his eyes are still glued to the yellow fruit. “The little orgasm-in-your-mouth kinda feel?” Peter barely notices how Tony’s voice is a little lower. Darker. As a reply, Peter only nods slightly. “Every bite.” “Sounds intense.” “It is.” Peter’s lips part as he brings the length closer to his mouth. He sniffs once. “The smell tickles my nose. And… And the way it sits in my hand, the… The stiffness and the girth of it.” Peter wets his lips, breathing coming out in shorter pants. He can feel Tony’s eyes on him. Studying him intently. The man is slowly inching closer and closer, as if there is only a little bit of oxygen left in the room and it’s right between the two of them. “And then, when I put it in my mouth- when it hits my tongue, I just-“ “You ride a high,” Tony whispers. Peter still stares at the banana, half surprised with his self-control. He would’ve stuffed his face way earlier if he didn’t have Tony’s eyes on him like this. “Feels so good,” Peter mumbles. “Tastes so good.” “What do you do then?” Tony’s voice is so close to him, right next to him. Peter didn’t know when Tony had pulled the chair close enough for him to practically graze his lips past the shell of Peter’s ear. He gasps quietly when Tony’s warm hand finds its resting place on Peter’s thigh. “Like to wrap my lips around it,” Peter answers breathlessly. “Suckle on it.” “Suckle on it.” Tony’s reply doesn’t even sound like a repetition of what Peter said. It sounds like an order. Peter does as told and immediately moans when the fruit hits his tongue again. “That’s it, kid.” A shiver runs down Peter’s spine. Peter can hear Tony’s heartbeat and how it quickens. Can feel how the blood is racing downstairs for the both of them. Was this actually happening? Maybe Tony did want him? Everything that’s happening right now, sure points in that direction. “Keep going further down, Pete…” Tony encourages softly. His other hand makes its way to Peter’s back, gently massaging through his shirt. “Show me how far you can take it.” Peter sucks on the banana, letting his tongue run circles and stripes over the length. His eyes are shut and he pushes further and further until he feels it hit the back of his throat. “Oh,” Tony groans. “Perfect.” The hand on Peter’s back creeps up into his hair and clutches it tight. It starts guiding Peter to bob his head around the fruit and Peter can’t help but grin. Tony wants this. Him. Definitely. Thank you, bananaddiction. “You got a hand left, Pete.” Tony’s soft voice rumbles through Peter’s entire being, making the experience of the banana even better. “Why don’t you have a feel for how hard your nipples are, huh? I can see them through your shirt…” Peter complies, pushing his free hand under his shirt and crawling up until- OH! He moans and rolls his hips in tune with how he rolls the sensitive bud between his fingers. His eyes roll back and he doubles his efforts to feel even better. Peter sighs around the banana as it slowly falls apart on his tongue. It’s even more sublime now that Tony is helping him, steering him, forcing him. “Good boy,” Tony whispers, placing a gentle kiss behind Peter’s ear. The young man’s hips buck involuntarily in their chair but Tony’s hand that’s still on his thigh squeezes to keep him in place. Peter gasps at the pull at his hair and the hand moves to cup his balls through his jeans. Every part of Peter is on fire right now. “Nearly there…” Tony is right. Peter’s cock pulses with the need to release. He nearly has all of the banana in his mouth now and it’s not long before his right hand drops the empty peel to the floor. “Now…” Tony whispers. “Swallow.” Peter whimpers and does as told, automatically opening his mouth wide and sticking out his tongue when all of the banana has disappeared into his stomach. “Oh,” Tony coos, taking his hand out of Peter’s hair to push his thumb down on Peter’s tongue. “So beautiful…” Peter has already forgotten how to talk. His mind is swimming with lust. Want. Need. Tony takes back his hand, but Peter doesn’t see it. He still has his eyes closed, after all, relishing in the aftertaste of the banana. A soft whine escapes his lips when the hand that was gently massaging his clothed cock also disappears. However, when Peter half-opens his eyes, his smile immediately returns. In front of him, hard and aching, dripping precum, swaying and twitching, is Tony Stark’s cock. Something he had only imagined up until now as he jerked himself off in bed. Tony’s fingers curl around the shaft and stroke a few times. His other hand finds its way back into Peter’s hair. The man playfully guides Peter to follow his cock left and right. Absentmindedly, Peter opens his mouth, letting his tongue roll out in an attempt to lap at Tony’s dick. Every time just a little too far away to be successful. “Want it, Peter? You want it, don’t you?” Peter nods in Tony’s tight grip. “So hungry for cock, yet you probably don’t even realize…” Peter frowns slightly, unsure of what Tony is aiming for. “When you get off, Petey, do you eat your own cum?” The question takes Peter off guard, but he’s taken back to every single time he was in his bed, mindlessly lapping at his fingers during the afterglow. “Do you?” Peter nods again, smiling dreamily. His half open eyes still follow Tony’s hard cock in front of him. “Every time,” he manages to moan out. “So good…” “Not just addicted to bananas then?” Tony chuckles. “Bet you’re also infatuated with cum. With the taste- the feel of it when it hits your tongue.” Peter gasps, his own cock twitching and leaking in his now way-too-tight pants. “Such a slut for it, aren’t you? I know why…” Peter lets his head be pulled back until he looks Tony straight in the eye. The man grins and licks his lips, inching closer until the tip of his dick rests on Peter’s cheek as a promise that Peter will get what he wants soon enough. Tony grins wickedly. “There’s also potassium in cum, you know?”

#banana bonanza #starker #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #peter x tony #tony x peter #peter parker/tony stark #peter/tony #tony stark/peter parker #tony/bucky #winterironspider #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #spiderman #spider-man #Iron Man #ironman #fanfic #fan fic #fanfiction #fan fiction #ao3 fanfic #kinkybeanlienwrites

[felassan]

Dragon Age development insights from David Gaider - PART 3

This information came from DG on a recent SummerfallStudios Twitch stream where he gave developer commentary while Liam Esler continued playing DAO from where they had left off in Part 1 and Part 2. I transcribed it in case there’s anyone who can’t watch the stream (for example due to connection/tech limitations, data, time constraints, personal accessibility reasons, etc). A lot of it is centered on DAO, but there’s also insights into other parts of the franchise. Some of it is info which is known having been put out there in the past, and some of it is new. There’s a bit of overlap or repetition with topics covered in Parts 1 and 2. This post leaps from topic to topic as it’s a transcript of a conversational format. It’s under a cut due to length.

The stream can currently be watched back here. Next week LE will be streaming a different DAO playthrough with commentary from another guest. Two weeks from now LE and DG will return to continue this playthrough for another stream session like this one.

(Part 4, Part 5, Part 6)

[wording and opinions DG’s, occasionally LE’s; paraphrased]

The Battle of Ostagar cutscene is one of the first big cutscenes that got made during production. When it was shown to the team for the first time, it was one of those moments where DG felt like “Awesome, this is a game!” Context: During the development of a game it feels more like doing a series of disconnected tasks and assets rather than working on a game, so seeing stuff come together at times like this is rad. The first time it was shown, it had temporary placeholder voiceacting.

Pathfinding is always a nightmare to do, especially in games which involve a party of NPCs. As soon as other characters are involved alongside the PC, it’s exponentially more difficult and takes up a lot more resources. The PC is the most complex thing going on visually on-screen, with so many moving pieces, and in party-based games you have four [etc] of them. So, some critique that’s made of the DA games in regards to this subject which compares it to games like The Witcher doesn’t really make sense, as The Witcher has a solo PC.

‘Weird mage hats’ didn’t really become a trademark ‘DA thing’ akin to their place of random pieces of cheese around the world until later games. For DAO, someone probably asked the artists to create “mage helmets”. Mage hats actually looked better in the concept art than they did in-game. What happened was that they were already modelled and then they didn’t have time to re-do them.

DAO was made for PC first. The plan from the get-go though was that it would be an all-platform release (PC/360/PS3). Games like these are always made for the “lowest common denominator” from among the various platforms that they’re being planned to release for. Games have to be made for the most stringent/basic of the platforms because this makes for less conversion rate. At the time of DAO’s development, the PS3 was getting weak graphically and getting old, and this was quite a limitation: “Why do we have to limit [crowds?] because of this one platform?” “Well, we just gotta”. The original models were a bit too detailed. Later on, the artists started making models that had lower polycounts that they could put in a bit more of. DA was never really focused on making environments realistic in an ambient manner (making environments less “gamey” and more lived in, like having crowded places). They could have put more emphasis there but this would have led to a resources issue. Ambience basically wasn’t a high priority. As a writer DG isn’t keen on this decision and naturally he wanted the world to look more realistic, but he noted that it’s easy for him to say this when this would be work that he didn’t have to do personally.

During DAO development, they might have just had a dev sphere originally that was called “tech design”. DG thinks this was later broken up into systems design, combat design and maybe level design. Level designers are the people that are the implementers of the plot. Narrative design is a branch of the level design spoke. System designers respond to requests from lead designers. Narrative designers and writers don’t interact with system designers much unless they have to. As an example of interaction here, system designers might come to writers and say, “Alright, so we’re doing combat, what are the sorts of things a mage can do in this world?” The writers would be like “Ok, these are the sorts of spells we imagined.” The system designers might then come back with “Ok, that fulfills 2 of the 10 things we need mages to be able to do in combat. Is it possible that mages could do [this]?” Sometimes it is, and other times it would be like “No, that’s really outside of the lore”. Still, sometimes said original-lore-breaking things would be added to the game a week later due to necessity and DG would be like “Oh ok”. This kind of stuff is an insight into how some aspects of the lore came to be or changed over time during development.

The system designers on DAO got a better idea of what could be done and what could not be done according to the lore as things went on. At first, DG had to keep telling them things like “It’s not that big a deal, but in the lore mages can’t teleport. Instant teleportation isn’t possible in the world”. The system designers needed a spell where someone could get from spot A to spot B really fast on the battlefield. DG said that that’s fine in itself, “have them turn into a cloud of bees or have a light that moves between the two places. We can use magic as a transition or as a speed thing, but what is against the lore is instant teleportation, to traverse distance like that”. At first the system designers weren’t on board with it, but they got on board with it later. 

This sort of thing doesn’t just depend on the system designers. It also depends on what the tech artists are willing to do. Sometimes a certain request made of them was too hard and they said they weren’t able to do it. Other times it was a matter of DG not communicating the request properly, or the tech artists had already done the work and so throwing out all their work to re-do it just because he didn’t communicate clearly wouldn’t have been cool. So sometimes the originally planned lore got contravened, and sometimes things other parts of the team implemented in the game became the new lore.

LE made an insightful observation at this point: You can’t think of game development as a cohesive series of decisions that everyone on the team is involved in. This simple isn’t how it works at all, especially on large complex projects. There are processes at some studios for decision-making, but most of the time, a bunch of decisions get made by system designers. Others get made by level designers, still others by narrative designers. Situations then arise where someone notices a certain decision and that that decision and another one contradict each other. This is where conflict arises and a solution has to be negotiated. This is why often in games we get elements in the end product that are dissonant, because it was discovered too late or by the time it was realized, it was too difficult to change. It’s actually a miracle that on a game of DAO’s depth and scope that all these things largely hold together. [My note: With this insight and the context below on documentation, it makes sense how BW sometimes appear to ‘forget aspects of their own lore’ or end up contradicting parts of the lore in different parts of the franchise]

Sometimes such things would be noticed in time and DG would go and say, “Can we not do that or do something else instead?” and the relevant parties would be totally accommodating and do it (depending on how much time they had or how much time it would take to remedy). Sometimes this worked out and sometimes it didn’t. For the most part, everyone wants to work together. DG couldn’t be involved in every aspect of systems design “like some kind of All-Watchful eye of lore”, so he had to rely on the people who were there knowing enough from the documentation. Not everybody reads every document however. There was so much documentation even back during DAO. DG can only imagine the sheer amount of world/lore documentation that now exists now in the run-up to DA4; he said he thinks that nobody at this point on the current team has read it all, as editor/lore-wrangler Ben Gelinas isn’t with BW anymore. Lots of legacy documentation accumulated very quickly. Sometimes, the old document would still be there. Over time it became harder for people to discern which was the most recent version of a particular document. Sometimes people didn’t update the relevant documentation after changing things. Lore documentation was particularly bad for this issue. BG wrangled all the documentation and created an internal reference wiki (essentially acting as a lorekeeper). He was constantly coming in and picking DG’s brain to clarify conflicting aspects or obtain the correct, in-date information etc (“Good on him”).

DAO was the first time DG was involved in voice-recording. Prior to that he was only on the receiving end, in that the recordings would come in and he’d review them as they did so. DAO is when BW set up their own VO department and where Caroline Livingstone came on. CL wanted DG and Mike Laidlaw to be more involved in the casting process. As a result, the writers then were to write casting scripts: like, ‘For Morrigan, can you write a 1 page script that goes through 3 big emotions? [like regular talking for a bit, then here’s a bit of heightened emotion such as anger, then here’s a part where they’re being funny if they were a comedic character] These scripts had to be kept short so that the recording that was made from it wouldn’t be more than 30-40 seconds in length.

For the initial VA sessions, DG and CL flew down to Technicolor studioin LA and they had all the major castmembers there (later on, recording sessions were done a lot more remotely; this became easier as BW’s setup got more sophisticated). The idea was that they would both be present live in-person for the first 2 or 3 sessions to help each VA find their ‘voice’, and for DG at the first session to sit down with each VA and walk them through who their character was, what DA was about, and help them figure out how their character should talk. Claudia Black was the first of these sessions and he was “a wreck” going into that one. It got easier after that however. CL gave directions into the soundproof booth and DG was present to give notes on things like pronunciation or the intentions behind some lines. He says he learned everything he now knows about VO direction from CL. The things and tricks CL can do to get a performance out of an actor are amazing. Sometimes an actor would get a bit fixated or stuck on a particular way of delivering a line. CL had atrick to help them past this; “I want you to clear your mind, and I want you to give me a version of this line that’s more yellow”. The idea is that they just had to break out of where they had been stuck in that mindset, and the thing was that it doesn’t matter what “yellow” meant, but what was important was what “yellow” meant to the actor. They could then take that new varied delivery and progress from there.

Alistair’s dialogue when the PC talks to Flemeth outside her hut was the first complex conversation DG wrote for DAO. It was the first one that had a lot of branching and fiddling to it. The hardest conversations to write are the ones with a lot of exposition, and when they do have exposition still making this interesting and natural. At this point in the game, the player has no agency, just reactivity. The devs talked a lot about this subject when they wrote the origin stories. Some of the stories allow the player to initially say no and refuse to join the Wardens, but you always end up being railroaded (the devs here ended up doing a form of the trope ‘But Thou Must!’). Do you give the player the option to say no? Is it important to allow them that option? At some point, writers have to accept that the player has some level of buy-in and is game to play. They discussed a lot where they sat on this and what is agency. “Maybe don’t worry about offering the player every possible choice, but about having reactivity.”

Loghain wasn’t okay with letting Cailan die. He didn’t sit and angst about it openly where the player could see, and once the decision had been made, it being Loghain, it was Made and Had To Be Done (he felt that it was something that had to happen). But he didn’t kill the son of the woman he’d once loved dearly as a random off-handed thing.

The Solas twist was planned from the beginning, from the DAO dev days. Such big things/broad strokes have stayed the same. However, some of the details have changed or been added along the way. They didn’t know for instance that Solas was going to be a companion; that was something they came up with when they were planning DAI. Flemeth’s true identity has never changed.

Zevran says Rinna was an elf, but WoT says she was a bastard child of a noble in line for the Antivan throne (the Antivan royal family being human). When asked if this was an oversight, DG said yes she was a bastard, but she may have been really far down the line of succession, i.e. technically in line, but would probably never have been allowed to take the throne in practise had that scenario ever actually arisen.

DA was maybe inspired a bit/some by ASOIAF. This was way before it was on TV of course. DG at the time had read the first book or so. He liked the fact that it was a fantasy setting but low-magic, and was about the people in the world and their politics rather than magic, prophecy and other high fantasy stuff.

It was only by DAI that the system designers decided that it was okay to think of banter as an “activity that players engaged in”. In previous games, the devs had inadvertently managed to ‘train’ players to immediately stop when companion banter fires so that they could hear it all (because if you do something else, it gets cut off). When the level designers put together the spaces, they accounted for what players would be doing i.e. how much time between combat. They didn’t however account for like “You’re travelling down this hall and there’s a banter for half of that space. This is an activity, so it’s okay not to put anything in there”. This is how the inadvertent training happened, when originally banters were supposed to be a thing that ran as you move around the world (as opposed to stopping and standing still). 

When asked if the Blight resulted from the creation of the Veil or pre-dates it: “I think you’ll probably have to wait on the game[s] for that answer, if it ever explains it”. He was also asked whether Arlathan is the Golden City. He won’t answer such questions naturally because they are “DeepLooooooore™~~ ♫”.

DG isn’t sure that he will play DA4 when it comes out. It’s not that PW and the team won’t do a good job, they will, it’s just that when DG plays RPGs he has an analytical mindset going on and finds it difficult to slip into the game and just enjoy. For DA4, as he was previously so involved in DA, there’ll naturally probably be an extra level of that with feeling like “What would I have done [for particular parts of the game’s design]?”. Alternatively he might instead feel like “Wow, this is awesome, here’s a game I would have made but didn’t have to do any work on!” DG stressed that it’s important to him to be fair about the work of his former colleagues - he wouldn’t want to come out and be like “I wouldn’t have made [this or that] choice”. He also noted that just because something might be a call he personally wouldn’t have implemented in the game, that doesn’t mean it’s a bad call. There are people out there where if DG intimated at all that there was an aspect of DA4 that he wasn’t keen on, he’s worried that they would pounce on it and use it as ammunition against the current team (who are his friends that he really cares about and wants to do well). He walked away from DA voluntarily and is happy his game will continue on. PW popped by in chat at this point and agreed that it’s definitely hard to play something that you used to work on.

Other assorted tidbits:

DG really opposed the part at the Battle of Ostagar where mabari are set to charge the darkspawn horde - “That’s not how you would use dogs [in war]”

There was supposed to be a cutscene where Flemeth rescues the HoF and Alistair from the top of the Tower of Ishal in her dragon-form. This was cut. DG remembered being angry about this like “nobody is gonna buy that you fall unconscious and then wake up in the hut totally rescued. [...] I guess I’m not always right”

When DG went to Beamdog there was a period where they thought about making a Baldur’s Gate 3. They put together a pitch and had a long series of discussions contemplating things like “What do we need from BG3? What do we expect it to have in order to have the BG name? What is needed and not needed to connect to from the previous games?”

DG isn’t sure who designed the DAO inventory system

PW in chat recalled a game writer from another company who was really ragging on DAI on the Christmas Day after release

Narrative designer and system designer are very different positions/roles with very different responsibilities

Simon Templeton as Loghain did all his voicework stuff in one take, which was very impressive

It would have been the marketing department that chose 30 Seconds To Mars for music. DA was really good at choosing up-and-coming acts for this that weren’t huge when they used their songs, but became huge afterwards

During work on Baldur’s Gate 2 was the most DG has ever crunched. He slept in the office a few times

“As soon as you get both Alistair and Morrigan in the party, that’s when it’s like ahh yes, this is a BioWare game”

Were Flemeth and Morrigan’s interactions with each other and the PC when Morrigan is being told to leave the Wilds and go with the Hero an act, considering that Morrigan did know about the OGB plan? No. That was The Plan, but said plan wasn’t like “Ok, she’s going to leave Right Now”

The elves and the inversion of the traditional elven trope are DG’s favorite part of the world/world-building

One of the original intentions for DAO was to make it so that the player wouldn’t need a healer in the party, or that there would be different kinds of healing, or that healing itself wouldn’t be a thing, but this just didn’t work out

The Imperial Highway used to be a really important part of the lore but it kind of got forgotten a bit

It’s kinda funny that after release some players expressed that Corinne Kempa’s accent as Leliana was “sooo fake”. It’s not fake, she’s actually a Brit that moved to France when she was young, so she has the exact type of accent that Leliana would have (Leliana was born in Orlais and is culturally Orlesian, but her mother was Fereldan and she considers herself as such)

They talked some about the need for documentation and how doing this can feel beurocratic and uncreative and how like you’re not working on a game or writing. PW in chat expressed that there was a year where they spent a lot of it working in PowerPoint and Excel, “so I feel this”

When they switched art directors to Matt Goldman, his first big complaint was about all the brown. He came to DG like “Is there a lore reason for or are you particularly in favor of the brown for story reasons?” DG was like “Uhh no” and Matt was then like “Ok good”

Console codes/commands aren’t usually stripped out of a game before release, they are usually still in the built, just disabled. The system itself is not removed but how to access said system is

BW doesn’t crunch as bad as we hear some companies do, and kind of prided itself on “not being terrible at crunch”. But BW’s “not terrible at crunch” is still crunch. We obviously don’t commend abusive family members for only abusing people on certain days of the week or whatever

Kate Mulgrew is American but she at times did the same thing a lot of the British VAs did, which was that the devs had a lot of struggle with getting them to say “darkspawn” correctly, with the emphasis in the right places. They’d say “dark SPAWN” as if it was two words with an adjective, and the stress put in the wrong place

Lack of children in DAI was a resources thing. They only had time to make a certain number of models. There was a series of meetings where they had to decide what things to cut. In the last meeting it was like ‘Here’s a bunch of things you don’t want to cut, we need to cut 4 of them’

They decided to put horned qunari back in DA2 because then they had the resources to do so. They then ended up having to explain why there were hornless qunari at the same time, and make this an in-world explanation as opposed to just ‘We didn’t have the resources, that was totally intentional’

Lots of players missed out on recruiting Leliana and/or Sten on their first playthrough and didn’t even know they existed/could be recruited. “Apparently we weren’t that great at pointing players in the right direction”

Tevinter is inspired by the Byzantine Empire (which wasn’t called that at the time incidentally, this is a name given by historians after the fact), what used to be the Roman Empire after the western part fell. This is the era Tevinter today is meant to encapsulate: decadent but clearly in decline, far away from the heyday and the heights of the former empire [source]

[Part 1]

[Part 2]

[Part 4]

[Part 5]

[Part 6]

[‘Insights into DA dev from the Gamers For Groceries stream’ transcript]

#dragon age #bioware #video games #morrigan #queen of my heart #alistair theirin #fav warden #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #solas

[dreaminpeaches]

New Paracosm AU: Big Hero Beau

@decaykid yes, kind of...

Okay, like I said in my last post this idea came to me after listening to Fist Pump and Viva Namida on loop with pacing.

So you know like how the original Humble Pie paracosm is very western horror kind of drama, yeah? well, this paracosm is just full on ANIME BBY!!! I'm talking Space Dandy, I'm talkin' Gurren Lagann, I'm talkin maybe a little bit of Trigun, and also takes alot from action rpgs like Bayonetta, Devil May Cry, Persona, Viewitful Joe, and Wonderful 101 (but its like only two people), and takes alot from Sonic the hedgehog (mostly Sonic Underground, Sonic Adventure 2, and Sonic Forces), and little bit from Fancy Pants ( that's not an anime or a "real" video game, its just an old flash game I used to hyperfixate on).

This paracosm is completely different which is why I gave it, it's own name instead of just adjective then "!"

This version of Beau takes a lot of inspiration from Dandy ( Space Dandy), Vash The Stampede (Trigun), Sonic The Hedgehog (Sonic The Hedgehog), and Kamina (Gurren Langann)

In this paracosm, both of Beau's parents perished in a tragic accident, Beau takes his siblings to an abandoned shack and they hide out and live out there. the tragedy this motivative Beau to become stronger and a hero, not only to keep his siblings safe but others too. The last thing his mom told him was that his smile could save a thousand lives, so because of that he always keeps an upbeat, go get 'em attitude, and he doesn't want to bum his younger siblings out. His mom also gave Beau her heart shape locket before she passed on, so Beau has worn it ever since that day.

The locket is very precious to him, he doesn't let anyone touch it (other than his siblings), and if he loses it he'll go into a panic attack and can't do anything else until he finds it again.

Dev, Beau's little brother, also wants to be strong and a hero, he tries to train like his brother but he can't keep up. Beau tells Dev that he has to be strong in his own way, so Dev decides to put his tech skills to good use and make his older brother cool weapons for him to use. I forgot to mention in this paracosm some people are born with superpowers and such, and Beau's superpowers are super strength and speed, while Dev's superpower is super intelligence.

Dev can't keep up with his brother on foot, so he made himself a jetpack to keep up, and makes science weapons for himself to use.

In this paracosm, there are evil robots, pirates, bandits, ninjas, demons, fallen angels, giant spiders, bad guys who kidnap pretty people, any enemy you would find in a video game or anime yeah it's probably here. So, there's always something for Beau and Dev to fight or someone to save from something.

Beau and Dev don't have secret identities since superpowered people are common but they get to have a pretty rad transformation scene activate when they fist bump each other.

Beau fighting style is similar to that of a hack and slack fighting game, Beau mostly use his fists to fight and his speed, he'll also use guns too, but he'll only use swords if he thinks he can pull off a cool move, since not really experience using them that much. Dev made Beau special gloves and boots that make the attack range of his hit larger so its easier to take out hoards of stuff like robots (which happens lot) and big enemies like giant monsters.

His boots are also guns so its like....

Oh, and Beau also makes sure that he always looks cool when fighting just in case someone takes a pic (which happens alot). Unlike Bayonetta, Beau is more playful with his posing rather than sexy.

Dev's wits come in handy when the two come across puzzles, riddles, or finding a way out of traps on their adventures since Beau didn't complete school once his parents passed and mostly focus on raising his siblings and hero training.

Much like Sonic, Beau is very snarky and witty while fighting his enemies (or at least tries to be), he always tries to make a snarky comment or a really cool zinger before finishing off his enemy. Due to his kind of being not the sharpest tool in the shed, it can take a while for him to come up with a good zinger, so it kind of stalls fights, and sometimes it gets to the point where the enemy is just like "Oh my GOD! just KILL ME!", this also annoys and embarrasses Dev too at times.

Beau makes money from bounties and doing odd jobs around, he makes enough for his siblings to live comfortably, but there are times where he'll go hungry because he only has enough for Dev and Carrie to eat. Beau is still a kind of a lower-level hero compare to the other well know ones around.

Dev has also made a rocket ship so they can fight intergalactically on other planets

Carrie in this paracosm is still 4 years old, she has yet to show any signs of having powers, which is pretty normal for her age since people in this world don't show powers until they hit their pre-teen years.

Beau will take Carrie on their adventures if it's safe enough, but if the mission is too dangerous Beau will take her to the nearest daycare or the nearest trustworthy femme person. Beau will try to make the mission or fight end quickly as possible if he left Carrie with a stranger, there's a sigh of relief once he finds her safe, if not (which doesn't happen a lot thankfully), well somebody gonna die and Beau tries to make it up to her by spending the next few days with her, just him and Carrie.

Beau tries to put being a good guardian/older brother before being a hero and tries his best to spend as much time with Carrie and Dev as possible on chiller/lower stakes days.

Beau had never had time to really process the feeling of losing his parents, there are days where he feels down but he never lets it show around his siblings or have it affect his hero work. There are nights where those memories keep him up, sometimes he'll cry but still try to smile thru the tears.

Beau likes to give peps talks to himself in the mirror, and pep talks to Dev, when he's feeling discouraged, although most of the time those pep talks don't really make any sense Dev still appreciate his brother's kind words.

Since Beau saves people, he interacts a lot with damsels in distress, he flirts with them, but usually gets rejected for coming across as too cheesy or cocky. He doesn't really mind it tho, he actually finds it funny, but when a lady actually flirts back he gets really flustered and has to leave immediately. Despite this Beau still tries to give Dev advice on talking to girls.

Beau still smokes and drinks because the stress of having to raise young siblings, dealing with trauma, and being a hero can be alot, but he still makes sure his siblings don't see him and he doesn't get too wasted.

Other than hero stuff, Hero! Beau enjoys reading comics, parkour, skateboarding, break dancing (which he incorporates in his fighting for some really cool finishers), practicing cool poses and phrases, playing video games with his little brother, and watching barbie movies with his little sisters (since Barbie reminds him of his mom).

Oof, I think that's all I got for now....

TL;DL Basically if this version of Beau is Sonic the original Beau is more like Shadow if that makes any sense.

#paraportal #new paracosm #paracosm #paracosm: big hero beau #para: hero! beau #I still have yet to figure out how Bonnie fits into this paracosm #their dynamic is gonna be more of a 'two stupid dorks' kind of dynamic #I dont think this paracosm could get anymore anime than this #maybe I'll make bonnie a magical girl #idk would that be too much

[vagrantblvrd]

d2 dinluke au?!

Hey, friend!

I have another D2 Dinluke AU that’s all Drama and whatnot, but I’m in need of less angsty shenanigans for these two dorks right now, so!

I am just thinking Real Hard about Luke digging up rumors of Golden Age tech Obi-Wan or someone told him about?

Because swords are totally rad, but what about swords with, idk, a plasma blade rater than metal? (Both Amanda and Ana are Intrigued, and you know Banshee is like hmmm.)

So in between Guardian-ing he pokes about old Golden Age ruins and whatnot looking for schematics and the whatnot for this laser sword because it sounds rad and he would like to have one?

Din is like no, and why are you like this, and I swear if I get one more distress call from Artoo because you bit off more than you could chew - remember that time you walked right into a Hive enclave no one knew about? Or the Cabal forces dug in to that valley on Mars? The Fallen pirates hiding in the Reef Petra warned us about? - one more time. >:((((((((((((

But also, okay, also.

Luke being :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD in front of Zavala and the other Vanguard mentors but everyone knowing what a terrible human being he is and pretending they don’t.

Meanwhile Din is like :| because he’d really rather not, but also someone kind of has to so they get sent off to investigate Goings On like the Oryx Situation and other subsequent Adventures across the franchise.

Also though, also.

The two of them meeting because Luke is poking about Golden Age ruins and oh, hey, that looks like a big shiny Titan over there and...huh, the kid looks a little green? But adorable as hell.

And then Adventures in which Luke is :DDDDDDDD while wrecking, idk, some Vex and Din is >:((((((((( as he likewise wrecks more Vex on the other side and Grogu is like :DDDDDDDDDDDD because this is super rad.

(Also Din being like >:( initially because he’s not leaving the kid to fend for himself any longer, but Luke is just :D because Grogu is adorable as hell and hey, no, if Din didn’t take him he sure would so no arguments here, friend! :DDDDDDDDD)

Din being all Suspicious in the aftermath of the battle because Artoo pops up, all shiny and mouthy and rude, what with his beeping and warbling interrogation of Din because the Vanguard didn’t mention other Guardians being out here?

And when Din’s own Ghost translates for him he’s like, “I’m not a Guardian,” because he never quite made it to the Tower for the orientation Guardians go through and has been tooling around the system doing his own thing for the most part.

Runs into other Guardians every so often, but he’s a little...leery of the whole become soldiers in a war he never signed up for, and anyway, a lot of people out there who need help that fall through the cracks in regards to the Vanguard, you know?

(Not all of them are humans, too. Din’s got friends and associates of the Eliksni and Cabal variety, maybe has a war beast of his own that adores the hell out of Grogu - “Found her half dead on Nessus. Left for dead after a fireteam the Vanguard sent tore through.” - and so on, and anyway, anyway. Yes.)

The two of them keep running into one another and Do Adventures to the point Din finally does go to the Tower because Luke is missing or whatever and someone has to find him. The last thing he told Din was that the Vanguard had given him this top sekrit hush-hush mission and anyway, Din doesn’t know where to look for him but the Vanguard damn well better, and anyway, that’s how he goes to the Tower for the first time.

Ikora’s Hidden know all about him, of course, but left him to his own devices because he’s still a Guardian even if he doesn’t consider himself one. And while his methods are...unorthodox and whatnot, he’s still keeping the system sage, fighting the Darkness and its forces and all the usual things.

Also, though, also.

Luke vouches for him, and also maybe ~hinted that if the Vanguard had any issues with Din and his various friends and allies they could take it up with Luke and his friends and allies.

Because look, okay, look.

The Skywalkers and other affiliated Clans aren’t really people you’d want to cross, you know? Padme and Leia would eat them for lunch on any battlefield - political or otherwise - and they’re rather popular among citizens of the City and the Tower, and anyway, no one in their right mind would want to cross on something like this.

(Luke absolutely makes sure to remind the Vanguard about that when he realizes Din went to them for help in finding him, and anyway, yes.)

But really, Luke going on Adventures for the Vanguard and Din grumbling but going along with him because fireteams, and sometimes Leia goes along, or someone else and Din is like. So Tired, but also it’s nice to not be alone ut there sometimes.

(Going into an Dark Zone alone and not knowing if he’ll come back out, right? But now he’s got Luke and that ball of sass and snark he calls a Ghost with him and it’s just. Better.)

Also, also.

Luke finally finding schematics for his laser sword and Din never knowing a moment of peace afterwards because Grogu is fascinated and also it’s really kind of the worst, you know?

The worst.

(Also, also! Luke smirking at Din and challenging him to sparrow races on the old SRL tracks and wherever else and Din is like >:((((((((((((((((( because no way he’s going to let Luke win, and Amanda is like “What did you idiots do this time?” when they bring her their sparrows to fix because Artoo and Din’s Ghost can do only so much and also it’s not their fault they went over that cliff, thre were Taken on the course and anyway, yes.)

#star wars nonsense #dinluke #destiny au v2 #ALL the shenanigans #anon #replies #prompt fills #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #Anonymous