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neoculturetravesty · 3 years

Text

We met in online class - Last Part

Image adapted from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, angst, fluff Warnings: Strong language Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: And so it comes to an end, and let me tell you guys, I am not okay 😔 This is going to be a bit of a longer A/N, so please bear with me. If you’d like to get straight to the story, I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND, so feel free to click Keep Reading!

Lowkey, I had a bit of a meltdown as I typed the final words on this fic because I hadn’t realized how attached I had grown to the characters. This is the first time I wrote three different chapter openers before deciding on one, because I simply couldn’t believe it was goodbye after this.

These mofos had constantly been on my mind for the past two months and a half. I would spend most days thinking about where to take them and then bringing them to life at night, after my entire day was over. When I wasn’t writing, I’d make little notes about thoughts I had into the night about them so that I wouldn’t forget them when morning comes.

This was my first ever (and as of right now, my only) chaptered fic. I had no idea parting with it would be as emotional as it was. When I think back to when I first received the prompt for this, I had never even imagined I could write Renjun, let alone a series. But there was something in the prompt that had gotten my wheels turning. And I am so immensely glad that it did. There were days when I thought “Oh man, what have I gotten myself into.” Some days, the story would just flow. Other days, I’d keep staring at the blinking cursor not knowing what to type. But when I did, I found my emotions so deeply connected with the characters. I was happy when they were happy. I was sad when they were sad. So, parting with them is very hard to say the least.

But through this journey, I got to experience the joy of reading all of your reviews and comments and honestly, it made it all worth it. THANK YOU to every single one of you that read this story and waited on it and laughed and cried with it. You have made my life better in more ways than you can imagine.

In this moment, I want to thank 🍙 anon, because it was their prompt that put me in this mess in the first place. And so, it is only fitting that I dedicate the final part to them 💛

“Oh, we definitely need a picture together. How about here? I think this place would fit everyone.” Kim Doyoung looks about, finding a spot best suited for the photo he wanted.

“I think right there on the platform would be better. We could get everyone in two tiers.” his assistant suggests.

“You’re a genius. Let’s gather everyone. It’s not often that so many NCTU grads and students come to Midnight Arthouse,” Doyoung nods.

“How many of us are here, anyway?” Renjun muses. The assistant looks at her iPad, checking once again.

“I think there’s 23 of you. So, let’s definitely go for the platform.” she nods.

“Okay, then.” Doyoung claps his hands together once, “Gather everyone,” he says to no one in particular and walks ahead with purpose. Renjun and the assistant’s eyes meet and they smirk. Of course this was directed to the both of them. So, they set about to work.

As it would turn out, gathering 23 people from a charity event with art and food and drinks would be a bit of a task. But somehow, they manage to gather all alumni and current students on the platform in three tiers instead of two for a somewhat chaotic picture. There must’ve been something in the water at NCTU because none of it’s students could stand still for very long. They get maybe one decent picture and several in which someone or the other was moving or pulling a face.

His friends aside, looking around at the group, Renjun realized that he recognized nearly all of them. Yangyang and Hendery and the rest of their frat were here. As were the 127s, old and new. Renjun recognized them all, except maybe two boys, who didn’t seem to know a lot of the others either. When the pictures were done and the main events were over and the crowd had started to dissipate, Renjun finally walked over to the artwork to observe it up close.

Honestly speaking, watching the work with his own two eyes left no doubt in his mind that this artist deserved to be spotlighted like this. This work was in a league of its own. Watching it makes Renjun smile; because looking at it makes him think back to a few months ago when he was sitting in Kim Doyoung’s office, thinking of himself as some sort of a big shot. But the truth is, there was no way he had that caliber then, and there is no way he has that caliber now, though he was sure as hell working on it.

“This is the piece I lost the bid on.” Renjun hears a voice and he turns around to see Zhong Chenle’s father observing the art with him. Renjun bows politely and smiles under his mask,

“I mean, this is a remarkable piece. You have good taste.” Renjun acknowledges.

“What about you? Why isn’t any of your artwork displayed here?” he asks and for a while, Renjun smiles a bit nostalgically. He could’ve been here, had he made something for the Annuale. Had he just selfishly taken that shot. Then again, there would’ve been no real guarantees. Because Kim Doyoung was pretty particular in the people he chose, whether they were recommended by his family or not. Working with him closely in the last couple of months had taught Renjun that. It had also taught him how underdeveloped his skill was in the real world context.

“I guess I still have a long way to go.” Renjun replies humbly.

“Don’t we all?” Chenle’s father nods, “Are you working here at this establishment?”

“Um, I… I suppose I am. I am Kim Doyoung’s apprentice. He is my mentor.” Renjun nods.

“So I might see your work here soon enough, eh?” Renjun assumes the kind man is smiling under his mask because his eyes seem to be making the same shape as Chenle’s do when he smiles. So Renjun grins back.

“I mean… if I work really hard, I might get to shoot my shot in the next Midnight Arthouse Annuale.” Renjun fantasizes.

“Or maybe you’d get lucky like this young artist,” he points his chin towards the artwork.

Renjun smiles, “I would credit her luck, too if I hadn’t seen her work. But her talent is… it kinda speaks for itself.”

“Oh, no, you should definitely credit her luck. Talent isn’t enough. The stars have to align. Luck, talent, the right place, the right time. It all has to come together.” he says nodding.

Renjun considers his words. They seem to be coming from the wisdom of experience.

What if Renjun hadn’t received the phone call about his grandma back then? Well, then he probably would’ve made something lackluster and gotten rejected. Working with Kim Doyoung has taught him as much. It didn’t matter who had put a word in for him. At the end of the day, his work had to be outclass.

What if he had received the phone call and then still had enough time to submit something for the Annuale? Then he still probably wouldn’t have because… well, because of you.

What if he had gone ahead, regardless of you or his grandma and just made something and submitted it? Then he still would’ve been rejected. Because the truth of the matter is, he just didn’t have the caliber that artists associated with Midnight Arthouse did.

In that sense, Renjun supposes everything was in fact happening at the right place and right time now. Doyoung was mentoring him and he was getting better by the day. The stars were aligning for him. He knew it in his heart.

“Then I would wish that it all comes together for me, too.” Renjun says.

“When it does, young man, I’ll be the first one to bid on your work.” he says and Renjun doesn’t even have the time to react when he feels a presence breeze in his direction and invade his personal space.

Renjun doesn’t even have to look up to know who it is. He can tell by the way this body fits perfectly into his side. He can tell by how naturally his own body responds and just puts his arm around it’s waist.

“Oh man, I missed all of it, didn’t I?” you lament, as you loop your arms around his neck from the side instead of a hello.

“Not all of it. The guys just left but your brother and his friends are still here. Besides, you had work.” Renjun turns his head and looks into your eyes to reassure you. “Y/N, this is Chenle’s father.”

“Oh, hello!” you say cheerfully and respectfully bow and give you greetings. “It is so nice to meet you. Chenle looks just like you!”

“Yes, I’ve been told I’m a more handsome version of him,” he smiles then turns to Renjun, “And who might this young lady be?”

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N. She goes to NCTU with us.” Renjun introduces you and you bow again. Oh, the thrill he got every time he got to introduce you as his girlfriend. Fuck, he’s pretty sure he’d never tire of it, even if it had just been a few months. The serotonin boost in his veins is strong and he gets the urge to squeeze you and hold you forever.

“Oh, that’s very nice. Come have a meal with us before we have to catch a plane back home, okay?” Chenle’s father invites the two of you.

“Oh, I would love to!” you say in your chipper tone before your eyes start darting around “I’m going to have to excuse myself for a little bit, I just wanna say hi to my brother.” you say and you politely bow before you start moving away.

“Babe, hang on…” Renjun says, holding you back by your hand. He brings his fingers delicately to the bridge of your nose and softly pinches down the mask over it so it sits more snugly on you. “There, it’s much safer now.” Renjun nods and watches the affectionate smile your eyes give before you move away. You looked so pretty today, even if you were just coming back from a four-hour internship. You were easily the most beautiful girl in this room, though Renjun suspected that you’d be the most beautiful girl in any room you entered.

Albeit sometimes, Renjun had to wonder if your talent or your beauty was greater. Because you had become the only junior in NCTU to land an internship at the SMK Trainee Drive. And now that you were a senior, you were somehow managing to keep your grades up alongside it.

Renjun, on the other hand, would find himself struggling with balancing his apprenticeship with his school work. So he knew firsthand how your discipline was something else altogether. Recently though, he had experienced a rise in his grades because you had been taking him on so many study dates that your organizational skills and motivation had started to rub off on him.

Renjun walks around the studio and the party and feels like it’s been too long till you’re finally back by his side.

“Love in the Time of Corona,” you read the title of an art piece displayed in front of you. “That was supposed to be our thing.”

Renjun laughs and has no qualms in looping his arms around your waist and finally pulling you into himself.

“I guess we should’ve realized then how un-novel the idea would become in a few months.” he comments.

“Un-novel is not a word, Huang Renjun.” you narrow your eyes at him.

Renjun laughs. “It is now,” he says and lets out a long exhale, “I missed you today.” he complains, though he looks down at you with warmth.

“Well, you’ve got me now. And you have me for the entire weekend.” you reassure him, your palms on his chest.

“Mhmm.” Renjun smiles and he wants to lean in to kiss you. But Kim Doyoung specifically had people assigned to walk around and make sure that everyone had their masks on when inside. “Also, we already have a thing.” he reminds you and winks.

You laugh, and say “I guess we do,” then let out a happy sigh as your eyes avert from his for a moment, taking in your surroundings. “Our Couple Thing should give you some ideas on what you can make when your work is displayed here in the 2022 Annuale. I won’t be late to that, I promise. I’ll take a day off from everything else in my life.”

Renjun's heart grows warmer still, and he’s sure his eyes reflect what he feels, “How can you be so sure my work will be displayed in the 2022 Annuale?”

“I don’t know, Huang Renjun. I just have a feeling about you.” you say and Renjun can see you smile even if your lips are covered by a mask. Your eyes always smiled before your mouth did, anyway.

“Y/N L/N, I have a feeling about you, too.” he retorts.

“And what feeling would that be?” you raise an eyebrow.

“It’s a secret.” he says, but now he sees your pout, even if he can’t see your mouth because your cheeks have puffed up over the mask. It makes him laugh.

“You’re no fun.” you protest.

“I’ll tell you once we get out of here.” Renjun offers.

“Well, I’m ready to leave.” you jut your chin up. Renjun grins and offers you his arm. You grab it with your entire body and the two of you start walking out together.

You had plans for the weekend, after all. And Renjun was determined to keep you all to himself for once, with no one else demanding your time. Not your internship, not your assignments, not any of your friends, and especially not Lee fucking Donghyuck. He was finally going to take you away where it could just be you and him and nobody else.

This moment felt way too surreal to Renjun.

The campfire had simmered down from a glorious roar to a comfortable burn, giving off just enough heat in the cool of an early winter evening. The sky was in it’s fading moments, where the pink of the light was slowly turning to violets and the violets were slowly merging into darks.

Renjun remembered suggesting to you all that time ago that maybe you could go somewhere together. But now that he was here, he hadn’t imagined that the moment would feel as surreal as it did.

Because now the two of you are sitting in front of your tent by the fire, entwined in one another. You’re sitting between his legs, arms around his neck, nuzzling your cheek inside his padded jacket while he supports your head on his arm and kisses you.

He’s holding you in his arms and kissing you and everything seems so perfect that for a moment, he has to pull away to watch your face and wonder if all of this was real. And though there is a gentle smile on your face, you’re not opening your eyes much. Because you know full well that Renjun’s lips would be back on yours in no time. So you play with his hair as they fall to his forehead and when he kisses you again, you press up into him so he would wrap his arms around you and hold you tighter. He does and he rubs his hands up and down your back and attempts to close his jacket around you.

“Are you cold?” he asks lovingly. You shake your head.

“No. I just want to crawl inside you.” you say, like it’s the most logical thing to be said.

“Creepy.” Renjun remarks but holds you closer still.

“You should be happy you haven’t seen my collection of your hair clippings.” you quip as you nip into the skin of his neck.

“Oh, sweet. That rivals all your used tissues I’ve kept in my shrine at home.”

“Aww, you shouldn’t have.” you coo at him and then lean up to kiss him some more and he laughs. But soon, he pushes the arm that you were using like a pillow up so your face would be closer to his and he could kiss you as deeply as he was truly craving.

The two of you keep kissing like that till the sky is dark. It was an odd sort of trance, being so lost in one another that neither of you cared about what time it was or how long you had been sitting here, wrapped up in one another. Your phones were zipped away in your bags and you hadn’t checked them even once since you had parked your camping van and set up your tent. It was a slow, peaceful sort of bliss, just sitting by the fire and kissing and kissing with nothing else on your minds but being here like this with one another.

“Renjun?” you say, your voice sounding like it was returning from a deep thought.

“Hmm?” Renjun asks as he combs your hair away from your pretty face.

“You know, I learnt today that a cactus can live anywhere between 10 and 200 years.” you tell him, idly tracing the birthmark on the back of his hand.

Renjun leans in and presses long into your lips. “Yeah?” he replies and watches your face. It seemed hazily focused, like it was trying to catch onto a faraway thought.

“I also learnt that it can take up to 30 years for a cactus to bear flowers.” you say in an introspective, wistful tone.

Renjun looks away to hide his smile. Oh God, you were so cute. “Yeah?” he says again, but it’s getting more and more difficult to keep a serious face.

“Sometimes, a cactus doesn’t flower at all.” you say and then you turn your head to look at him like you’ve resurfaced from your thoughts and are now in the moment. Renjun’s grin grows wider. “Renjunnn…” you whine and so he has no choice but to tenderly hold your cheeks in his palms and stroke your hair.

“What?” he chuckles.

“You said you’d think you’re worthy of my forgiveness when the cactus bears flowers.” you whine again and Renjun has to plant a loving kiss to your forehead.

“Is that what I said?” he chuckles some more and then leans in to kiss the anxious realization away from your lips.

“Renjun.” you pout and Renjun laughs and takes his beautiful, whiny, kindhearted girlfriend in his arms and hopes that his hold could chase away all the worries from her pretty, brilliant mind.

He kisses you because his heart can’t bear it any longer. How did he manage to hold a heart like yours in his hand?

Renjun feels an indescribable amount of happiness. Like he wasn’t sure that you were really here with him, in his arms, all for him to hold, with no worry or burden afflicting him. The happiness is so immense and so incredible and so heavy that for a moment, he feels it suffocating him. He wonders if he deserved this kind of happiness.

But right in the next moment, he stops himself. He knew how easy it was to relapse into those tempting, lonesome thoughts. But if there was anything that therapy was teaching him, it was that of course he deserved happiness.

Though right now, holding you in his arms, this happiness was choking him. He felt like his heart was swelling and pressing against his lungs and his chest couldn’t bear it and he could no longer breathe.

“Y/N…” he exhales, holding you back so he can look at your face and you could look up into his. He pauses to gather another breath. Then, he just says it. “I love you.”

And doing so does the trick. He feels his chest slowly getting lighter, because this is what it had been bursting with. Now, he’s told you. Now, it can be unburdened.

You look up at him and there is nothing but a sparkle in your eye, and tenderness in your smile. For a while, you say nothing, just looking upon his eyes like that. “Thank you.” you finally whisper back at him.

Renjun pauses for a moment. But then, he relaxes. This was okay. You didn’t have to say it back right away. Renjun was ready to give you as much time as you needed. So he presses his lips into your forehead once again till he feels you laughing against him. He pulls back in confusion and you grab at the lapel of his parka.

“Huang Renjun…” you say and he looks back at you with uncertainty, “... I love you, too.”

And Renjun can’t help it if he kisses you too hard. He can’t help it that he’s squeezing you too tight. He wouldn’t care if the night brightens back into morning and the morning fades back into night. He was going to hold you just like this for the rest of his life.

So he lays you down and kisses you deeper, like he wanted to make up for all the time he had lost. All the time in his life when he hadn’t known you. All the time he had known you and didn’t let himself have you. He was going to make up for it all. And as he zips the tent up and shields you from the rest of the world, he wonders if he could spend all of his days just like this. Holding you and loving you and knowing that you loved him back; and if he could, today was a damn good day to start.

The fire slows to a simmer till all that’s left are embers that keep being carried away by the breeze. But the two of you remain inside, in your own world, happy that you had found one another, happy that you could finally have one another. Happy that you could hold one another and say that you loved each other and have nothing in the world hold you back, not now, not ever.

You were Y/N and Renjun, Renjun and Y/N, two names that were forever intertwined because that’s how people would call you now. You were the couple that belonged so perfectly with one another that people would wonder if you’d been together for years. And any time someone with a burning curiosity would come up to you and ask,

“So, where did you guys meet?” you would just look at one another, smile and say, “Well, we met in online class.”

~THE END

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comehomeducklings · 3 years

Text

Present [Part 4] (Obsession)

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1943 ~ 6th year

“What would be the purpose of a wizard or witch to prepare a Polyjuice potion?” Slughorn asks. “Yes, Mr. Riddle?”

Tom drops his hand from the air, “The potion grants the drinker to take the form of another.”

“Yes! And what would happen if said drinker tried to transform into an animal?”

I know this one so I lift my hand.

“Go ahead.”

I clear my throat, “When the human drinker tries to transform into an animal they would not take its complete form. Only sections of said animal.”

Slughorn nods his head, “Can they reverse after a bit of time like normally?”

“No,” I answered. “It takes an extremely long time to wear off, and you might even have to go to the hospital wing.”

He grins and continues to write on the chalkboard. Even though he can enchant the writer's tool to note down itself, I’m guessing he prefers the old-fashioned way.

Tom and I are even on points. When he answers correctly, I also do right after him. I can see him noting down both our points on the corner of his parchment. The black tally marks standing out. Our points are on my paper as well, just in case he decides to cheat. No chances are being taken today, or tomorrow.

“How long does the potion wear off if made correctly?”

Riddle and I both shoot our hands up. His demeanor is calm and collected while I'm sitting on my feet to have my arm raised higher than his. It’s not very fair that his arms are the length of mine to the third power.

“Mr. Nott, what do you know?”

“A single dose could last from 10 minutes to 12 hours.”

Another question wasted by not getting called on. I don’t mind that much since it doesn't keep me behind. Riddle seems to care a little bit too much. His competitive side is showing and I guess his pal is ruining the race.

Professor stole our textbooks for this pop quiz. The rapid-fire questions should “already be memorized and known,” down to the molecular detail. My knowledge only goes so far.

I trust myself, to a point. There’s definitely going to be a question I get wrong and I’m already dreading it. Every answer that falls out of my mouth is examined and thought over ten times before the action of answering arises.

“For something a little different, Mr. Riddle come to the front of the classroom and write four ingredients that are needed for the potion.”

He stands up and pushes his chair in. His eyes as cold as The Black Lake. While he makes his way toward the board I cross my fingers, hoping he forgets one. I know that’s not the kindest, but nothing with him is necessarily “kind.”

There he goes, writing all four ingredients with ease. His handwriting is beautiful. How does he honestly do that? Does he practice every single day to get it that precise?

Maybe I should practice to improve as well. Honestly embarrassing how bad my handwriting seems next to his. We compared essays once, never again. That was the most embarrassing moment of my life. He just laughed at me and kept pointing out how weird my f’s looked.

I swear my letters weren’t that bad. It’s just that he overachieves everything. Now I rewrite every “f” letter that appears on my homework. Thank you for the new insecurity, Riddle.

“Very good! Very good, your turn,” he points towards me. “Three more ingredients this time.”

While I stand in front of the board, I check out what he has already put down. Lacewig flies, leeches, okay not bad. Knotgrass and the hair of the person the drinker will transform into.

He numbered them so I continued on from that.

5) Boomslang skin

6) Fluxweed

Last one, let's see. We already put Lacewig flies, Knotgrass, hair, the skin, and Fluxweed. I hesitate for a little bit, my brain working at high speed. Anxiety levels are higher than Mount Everest.

7) Powdered Bicorn Horn

There we go, I smile to myself proudly. When I turn back around my eyes meet his. He smirks and nods while he writes down a point for both of us. I’m not sure that it counts for four points, just one.

The questions go on for quite a bit. Our tally marks are piling higher and higher. Each of our count's neck and neck for the top spot.

“What is the brewing time?”

“About a month.”

“How does the potion look before the addition of the final ingredient?”

“Thick like the mud after it pours.”

“It also is bubbling.”

“How does it look after adding the final ingredient?”

“Depends on who the witch or wizard made the potion to look like.”

“Varies in taste and color.”

He seems to be done with questions so Tom and I start counting the marks. On my paper, I seem to be .5 points ahead of him. I quickly look his way to see him come to the same conclusion. He takes a deep breath and casts his eyes to the side. Tom then tilts his quill my way signaling that I did indeed win.

I’m about to squeal quite highly but then I recollect I’m in a classroom. Full of people who are terrified to be anywhere in this castle. That would be quite inappropriate of me so I keep my excitement to myself.

Professor Slughorn wipes the whole board away. Clearing all the information we were learning and reviewing about.

“When I pair you up, each of you will grab the right ingredients for this potion and lay it near the front of your desk,” he says. “It should be laid in the order you would normally use when making the concoction.”

“First up, Miss Horn and Miss Yellowbo.”

The classroom starts to move with life as students pair with one another. Some cheerful noises and annoyed ones from who they ended up with. Most of us here know each other. I don’t think I would mind having anyone in this room as my partner.

“Mr. Riddle and-”

Of course, it’s me. Starting to think the pairings’ on purpose. His face shines too brightly for it not to be well planned out. I make my way to the shelves to start out picking the ingredients.

There’s always a moment where my mind decides to give up on me. Most of the elements are obtained. A few are missing.

I’m going over the variety of bottles containing different substances when I feel a looming pressure on my back. An arm slightly grazes past my ear and picks up Fluxweed.

“How do you manage to forget the very ingredient you wrote down on the board?” Toms whispers right by my ear.

I shift my eyesight to the side to see him already looking at me, “Sorry, I blanked out a little.”

He starts seizing half of the ingredients into his hold. I don’t really mind carrying a couple, but I’m just left with one bottle after he takes most of my possessions.

“Taking all the credit now I see,” I tilt my head as I raise my chin to meet his tall build.

“You were about to spill everything. I’m saving you from embarrassment,” he responds cockily.

I started to argue but he already made his way back to the desk, “Everything was perfectly stable in my arms.”

He continues to ignore me and sets down everything. Including the one bottled ingredient in my hand that he snatched just a few moments ago.

“Nothing is ever perfectly stable with you.”

I’m about to whisper a word no children should hear before Slughorn makes his way to our table. Saving Riddle from my rising annoyance.

“Wonderful! You too got all of them perfectly,” he starts. “I would expect no less from my star students.”

All I do is smile brightly in respect. Trying not to drive any more attention to the outburst of pride he has for us.

“Thank you, professor,” Tom says. He starts picking the ingredients off of the table, still barely letting me take any.

Riddle just walks off while our proffesor continues around the room. When he comes back I just about finish wiping the desk of any accidental spills.

“I won our little game this time,” I nudged his shoulder with my own.

Tom slightly rolls his eyes with a small smile, “I see that you have. Just this one though.”

“And many more to come,” I exclaim.

Our attention seeks back to our teacher, “You’ll all be writing an essay about an imaginary way this potion could go wrong. I expect it to be turned in before class tomorrow.”

I hurry to get my textbook off of my area and head towards the back of the classroom near the doorway.

“Everyone split into two groups. This half will go with Riddle while the other is with me.”

I turn my head once more to look at Tom, he’s reassuring one of the students that they are going to be okay.

I only look for a couple of seconds before leading my half of the group out first. A few stops along the way to make sure perfects are keeping order. Most of my group of students have been dropped off. A couple still lures behind me, I picked them up as I worked my way through the castle halls.

They were also dropped off and now I scatter along the hallway to make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be. Like every other period, the routine stays the same mostly.

My robes have a few wet spots on them still from the tears of younger students attending this school. I fully believe it won’t be too long until the headmaster and the ministry deal with whoever is making our lives miserable here. The murders will surely not go unjustly.

As I am turning a new hallway I happen to meet up with Riddle.

“All good?”

“Of course,” he responds. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

He seems to look around quite a bit. Like he’s searching for something.

“Head back to your class, I will look around once more.”

That’s the last thing he says before moving around me with his hand on my shoulder. Quickly slipping past me.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“No, no no,” I whisper to myself as I crumple yet another paper in my hand. I throw it on the ground next to me and huff out a breath.

Writing this bloody essay is taking more time than I predicted. It usually comes naturally to me but I can’t seem to write correctly. Every time I make a mistake I have to start over again. My handwriting failing to write neatly for once.

My whole structure and information is already figured out. Writing is what’s taking me the longest. No matter how hard I try, the letters never seem to come out correctly from my quill.

Especially the f’s.

Infuriating really. I only have an hour left until the library closes. It already technically shut down but the librarian gave me an extra three hours as long as I lock up.

Perks of being Head Girl I suppose.

My head is in my hands as I compose myself. It’s late and I’m tired, it’s not even safe to be out at this time. At least if I happen to die I wouldn’t have to write this essay.

“How long have you been trying at this-” a low voice asks behind me.

I jump in my seat, “Oh it’s just you. Well, it’s been-”

“And failing?” Tom finishes as he takes the seat next to me. The chair turned slightly to me.

I roll my eyes and fall further back into my seat. My head turned upwards, admiring the flying books in the ceiling. Finding their place, their way home.

“Probably an hour and a half,” I sigh. “You’re completely right about how bad my calligraphy is.”

He just nods his head and takes a fresh new sheet from the middle of the table. His quill magically appears from inside his robe. All the papers that have the plans for my essay start to float around his head and workspace. Occasionally glancing up at them from time to time and then going back to writing.

His lips are pursed in concentration, “I write my F’s like this. It’s easier that way and extremely easy to practice and write quickly.”

My head peers over his shoulder as I watch him effortlessly indite.

“You try,” he opens up my fingers that were closing my hand and places a quill in them.

I furrow my eyebrows and start to practice my letters on a separate piece of paper that I originally scrapped. I don’t want to waste paper and there’s no reason to get a fresh new one.

We both work quietly in the night until the last few minutes of opening time. Before I left the room I saw him quickly go far back into the library. I never got to ask him why he arrived here so late.

Never saw the need to.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~ Taglist:

@empath-bunny

@jinxqsu

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

Wire (Bit 11)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 | Bit 6 | Bit 7 | Bit 8 | Bit 9 | Bit 10

Bit 11

Written between 1am and 4.30am. Guess who has insomnia again. But eh, we gets fic.

Special thanks to @katblu42 for the plot suggestion that was added into this bit ::hugs:: Also to @janetm74 @scribbles97 and @tsarinatorment for their amazing support ::squeezes you so tight::

This is still whump. Sorry, guys. A little bit of a longer bit this time at 1337 words.

-o-o-o-

Virgil ran a corn leaf through his fingers.

It was the depth of summer and the sky was brilliant with sun, the corn silks drying and brown above swollen husks while the giant flower heads at the top of each plant danced in the wind.

Ever so tall.

Cornstalks rustled as if speaking to each other, whispering his name.

He couldn’t see out of the field. It appeared to go on forever and he didn’t know how he had ended up in the maze in the first place.

Scott had been yelling his name. There had been pain and movement and Grandpa urging him on.

But now there was just the cornfield.

The wind hissed.

They weren’t supposed to play amongst the corn. There were snakes in the field and Grandma did not like losing sight of her charges.

Of course, Scott had dragged him in once.

Only once.

The field was mysterious and exciting. They hadn’t gone far, but Grandpa had discovered them and the fallout had been extensive.

They both learnt that day exactly why they shouldn’t go into the cornfield as Grandpa had found a snake, showed it to them and then listed off exactly what happened to someone who was bitten.

Scott hadn’t been a fan of snakes ever since.

Of course, Grandma followed that lecture up with some extensive first aid training for what to do if you were bitten by a snake.

It had been a long few days after that.

They never went into the cornfield again.

Until now.

And Scott wasn’t here.

Virgil shivered. He wasn’t a kid anymore and had faced far worse dangers than a snake infested cornfield, but there was something more going on here.

He knew it deep in his soul.

His IR uniform was gone and in its place his comfortable flannel shirt, jeans and boots were a stark contrast against the green stalks.

The leaf was rough between his fingertips, silica strong, almost like wire, but sharper, prone to those thin slices like paper cuts.

“Virgil.”

He startled. His name was sudden, yet as whispered on the wind as the rattling leaves.

“Gordon?”

The wind shook stalks and continued to whisper unintelligibly, ignoring him.

Two hands landed on his shoulders.

His gasp was swallowed as those small hands gently turned him around on the spot.

Eyes dark and so like his own looked up at him with so much love any remaining fear evaporated and fluttered away.

“Mom?”

-o-o-o-

Scott stood in a hospital doorway still wearing the suit he wore for the press conference yesterday.

He felt grimy and he was sprouting stubble on his chin to match his lack of self care over the last forty-eight hours or so. He wasn’t sure of the exact number.

Numbers hurt.

The door he was standing in wasn’t Virgil’s. No, he had left his brother for yet another necessary task as the eldest, the protector of his family.

John had offered to do it for him, but Scott felt an irrational and driven need to see that what his brother had given everything for was worth it.

Of course, every life was worth it. That was the Tracy motto.

But Scott was human. Ever more so now he was in pain. And he felt the need to make sure...it was worth it.

The paediatric ward was brightly painted. A stark lie to the children it contained in an attempt to distract them from the pain these halls actually contained.

The tiny figure in the bed was quiet, strawberry blond hair falling over closed eyes. He looked much more peaceful now he wasn’t bleeding.

Scott was grateful Virgil had succeeded in saving the little boy. His name was John and he did look a little like Gordon.

Toddler Gordon.

Despite everything, Scott did smile just a little. At age three, Gords had been an absolute terror. Virgil, for whatever reason, had taken it upon himself to prevent the little brat from killing himself or others and the resultant hilarity of watching his twelve year old brother chase after the three year old was legendary.

Until the day Virgil actually did save Gordon. Fish baby or no, a dam on the farm was no place for a three year old.

Although this was not Gordon, this little boy was just as lucky as Scott’s little fish brother, even if it took the rest of the Tracys to finally get him out from under that building.

Little John had two broken legs, some nasty bruising, and had inhaled far too much concrete dust and fumes. This last coupled with some internal bleeding and a three year old’s tiny body had made it very touch and go. Virgil had protected him as much as he could, but there had only been so much his critically injured brother could do.

But the doctors had saved him and although he had a tough path ahead, Virgil hadn’t risked himself in vain.

It was worth it.

Worth the lax and non-responsive figure in that too white bed on the other side of the hospital.

Scott swallowed hard.

Focus.

The boy’s mother finally caught sight of him and he forced himself to straighten up and feign presentability.

“Mr Tracy!” She hurried over, eyes wide. “Ohmigod, I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

Something must have shown in his eyes because hers widened and she held herself back.

“Come in, sir. Have a seat.” She stepped away and offered him one of the same plastic hospital chairs he had already spent a good part of the day sitting in on the other side of the building.

He held up a kind hand. “No, no, I’m only here for a moment. I just wanted to see how little John was doing.”

The woman’s breath was harsh at the mention and he prayed she wouldn’t burst into tears because he did not have the reserves right now and would likely join her.

She glanced at her son. “The doctors expect him to make a full recovery thanks to your brother.” A pause and he knew what she was going ask. “How is he?”

The image of Virgil lying ever so still, head swathed in bandages from literal brain surgery coupled with a belly full of even more stitches...

“He’s...” Another harsh swallow. “...hanging in there.”

The gentle hand on his arm nearly broke him.

He drew in a breath and mentally shook himself. “Um, I came over here to give you this.” He held out the piece of paper he had signed himself not twenty minutes ago. “When...” He tried again. God, he was tired. “When people heard Virgil was injured he was sent gifts and money.” They were still coming in. His brother was truly loved by the general public. Virgil Tracy and his giant flying green machine. Virgil would smile and wave it off, but really, people loved him. “My brothers and I know that Virgil would want you to have this, to help John in his recovery.” The cheque had a considerable number of zeros written on it.

Her eyes widened as she read them. “My god.” She blinked. “Thank you. I can’t lie. We need this. But...but what about the others?”

“Virgil saved the rest. There were some minor injuries. They’ve all been seen to.” He glanced at the bed. “John was the last one.” Scott blinked rapidly. John’s babysitter hadn’t made it, killed in the initial collapse. John had been very, very lucky.

“Thank you.” And her hands were clutching his arm again.

Scott looked down at her. Virgil would definitely want this. He dropped his hand over hers. “You’re welcome.” Now he had to leave.

She nodded and let him go. But she didn’t step back, only staring up at him.

“Mr Tracy, all my hopes for your brother...”

Scott nodded abruptly, but had no more words. A dip of his head as he backed out of the room and stalked down the hallway.

All his hopes...

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #nuttyfic

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wallwriterstuff · 3 years

Text

A Game of Cat and Mouse ||Demetri Volturi x Witch!Reader||

Warnings: Some swearing towards the end and angst

Words: 4939

Taglist: @thelastemzy @volturidoll13 @raindancer2004 @ferb13 @alecvolturiswifeforever @college-is-coming @a-avaunce @broskibowser @perfectcolortreestudent @royalvolturisblog @kpopgirlbtssvt @vamp-army

Summary:

Part 1:A Little Magic

Part 3: A Book and A Bargain

Part 4: A Moment Made For Us

Part 5: A Spindle Prick

Part 6: A Witch’s Wrath

Part 7: A Revelation

Part 8: A Message In A Bottle

After being cast out by the Grand Magister a game of survival ensues, one pitting tracker against witch in a race to reach each other.

Standing atop the stairs that led to your crafting room, you felt your heart hang heavy in your chest. For once, Castor remained quiet as you both stared down into the warm, welcoming room where so much magic had taken place. The crafting room was a safe haven, a place where you no longer had to pretend to be normal and could let the full scope of your power run free. It was a place you could create, manifest, morph, divinate and more. It was in the crafting room your bond with Castor had been cemented when you performed your very first spell together.

It was time to close the door.

“I can do it, if you prefer.” Castor said quietly. With a deep breath, you shook your head.

“It needs to be me.” you said, reaching for the handle and pulling the door closed. Castor sat on his back legs, his front paws clutching the drawstring pouch he had packed. You were both ready to leave, your home no longer surrounded by the protective charms and spells that had once kept it safe and off the radar. Placing your palm flat against the wooden door, you closed your eyes, feeling the magic behind it. With a whispered incantation, you pulled away and turned your back on the room, not wanting to feel it collapse in on itself. It would be destroyed within the hour and nothing but an ordinary cupboard under the stairs would remain in its place. Castor’s feet thumped the floor as he waddled towards your backpack, putting his drawstring pouch inside first and hopping in second. He turned in a circle once or twice before he had trampled down enough of your clothes he could sit comfortably, head poking out of the top of your backpack. You zipped it up just enough it would keep him secure but left him enough room to poke his head through the gap whenever he so wanted.

For a moment, his paw lingered on your own hand, but before you could scratch his ears to offer some comfort his nose twitched, lips curling back over sharp little teeth as he hissed.

“He’s here.”

The backpack was slightly heavy on your shoulders but once it was in place you turned towards the living room archway and lifted your hand, gathering as much of the energy in the room into your palm as you could while your brain scrambled to think of somewhere you knew well, a place that wasn’t a sacred space you were no longer allowed in or involved another witch who would not be able to shelter you. The ripping sound as you tore a hole in reality was loud, enough to alarm the tracker you could sense now just outside your door. He burst in without hesitation.

Your head snapped to the left, your eyes meeting the enthralling red irises of this mysterious vampire. He stood tall, his chin lifting and expression shifting to one of concern as he took in the sight of your backpack on your back. Then he saw the portal before you, a shimmering city bathed in sunlight sitting right in your living room archway, your sofa and TV just beyond it like there wasn’t a whole other world between you and them.

“Wait!”

“Never!” you snapped. The hostility in your voice seemed to startle him, freezing him long enough for you to leap through the portal and shut it behind you. The sunlight was warm against your skin, a light breeze caressing your face. Wheat swished against your legs and you heaved a sigh as you glanced about the field you had landed in. It was definitely not the exact spot you had intended on landing, but you were ashamedly rather distracted by the handsome vampire until you saw him start reaching for you. Something about his aura was welcoming, even if it was freezing cold, but your job now was to run, to protect your secret for as long as you were able. He could never be allowed to get you.

“Well, at least we won’t run out of bread here.” Castor snarked. Eyes rolling skyward, you puffed out your cheeks and counted to ten, electing to ignore the haughty little racoon in your backpack and begin your trek through the wheat towards what you hoped would be civilisation. Castor wasn’t the only one confused by your whereabouts either.

“Who are you?” Demetri murmured to the space where you once stood. He remained in your house, alone and really feeling lonely for the first time in forever. His single status had never bothered him before, his off and on again relationships not fulfilling perhaps but certainly satiating him to a degree that left him content with his bachelor status. Then you came along, quite literally blowing him away. Demetri had never cared before but now he was desperate to know you, because he wouldn’t get another chance. There was no more time to be a bachelor, no amount of casual sex or fun, one time dates he could while away an evening with, that would ever replace you. Your presence was meant to be permanent fixture in his life yet you’d disappeared right in front of him.

A quick search of the house found it entirely bare, no clothes in the wardrobe and no food in the cupboards. Wherever you had gone to you clearly had no intention of coming back. Demetri frowned, slowly making his way back to the living room archway you had disappeared through. How? How was it possible? There had been some sort of field beyond, one with bright sunshine he could most certainly not follow you into, and yet now…the archway was empty. There was no shimmering green ring around a sunlight field, just the empty living room beyond. He could imagine you curled up on the sofa before the TV, cosied up in a blanket perhaps, maybe reading one of the books you had taken that had left behind gaps on your bookshelf. Did you like to read? It seemed a trivial question now, but he longed to ask you yourself…when he found you again, that is.

Demetri inhaled deeply. The house was saturated with your scent and he committed it to memory willingly. Your natural smell was warm and inviting, something like sandalwood and lavender, all comforting smells he could indulge in all day. It wasn’t your scent he needed though. He focused more on the beautiful, soft features of your face – even if they had been contorted in sheer disgust at the sight of him. He focused on the melodic notes of your voice – even if you had been snarling in contempt. He focused on the only tenor in his repertoire that thrummed and pulsed in a way so unlike the others. Human tenors were distinguishable for their rope like quality, easily frayed and broken as human beings were themselves. Vampire tenors were sturdier, like a length of reinforced cable that was colder to the touch and far more durable. Yours…yours was some strange mix of both, not delicate but also not immortal. It thrummed with power, a low-level vibration that buzzed through him anytime he caught hold of it.

How on earth had you gotten to France?

He blinked, searching for your tenor and following it a second time just to be sure, but still he got the same answer, the very essence of France coming through it. Demetri was not startled by much but his phone ringing in the silence made him tense, every muscle going rigid before he fished it from his pocket with a huff.

“You never called to say you landed.”

“Forgive me, mother, I was busy.” He answered wryly.

“I worry.” Felix retorted. Demetri could almost hear the pout in his voice and despite the situation at hand, he cracked a smile.

“Fear not darling, I shall be home before you gave chance to miss me too much.” He assured him, placing a hand on his hip. There was a strange churning sound coming from his left and Demetri stared at the wood with a frown. He could feel the energy behind it to, something radiating power coming from the cupboard under the stairs. It was a similar feeling like the one he got when he ran too close to Chernobyl that one time – post 1986 of course.

“Home with your charming mate I hope.” Felix hinted. He sighed, turning to face the cupboard and running his hand over the wood. He could feel his palm vibrating slightly and slid his hands towards the latch to investigate.

“There were…complications.” He answered. Once the latch was free it began to rattle slightly against the wood, and with no warning whatsoever the door burst open and drowned out anything Felix had replied with. Demetri grunted as he was smacked full force in the chest by a tidal wave of soil. It gushed from the open doorway like a tsunami and he tumbled back into the living room before he could regain his balance. When the rumbling and gushing stopped, he was flat on his back and covered in soil, blinking dirt from his eyes so he could stare at the ceiling. Dumbfounded didn’t even begin to describe how he was feeling in that moment as Felix’s voice came through his phone, buried somewhere in the earth he was surrounded by.

As he sat up, dirt rained down around him, but it didn’t take him long to find his phone. The gritty taste of soil in his mouth made him growl as he sputtered to rid himself of it.

“Demetri? Demetri are you there?” Felix demanded. Grimacing slightly, Demetri huffed.

“I am, there was a…” he cast his eye to the mountain of dirt that sat between him and the very ordinary looking cupboard. He could see a shelf of cleaning products atop it. How had she managed that?

“A what?” Felix pressed. How was he supposed to explain to Felix he’d been knocked off of his feet by dirt? Simple. He wouldn’t.

“A complication! I need to find her again!” he snapped. Demetri hung up before Felix could question him further. He was still brushing dirt off of himself when he arrived at the airport for a late-night flight to France. You were still travelling west towards La Rochelle and once he had managed to rent a car it was no trouble at all to come after you. He only had to pause to eat and that didn’t take him long, not if he wasn’t playing with his food. It took him only a day to catch up to you but the sun was still shining brilliantly when he did, forcing him to stay in the car at the roadside and watch from afar as you had a picnic with a…racoon? You were ethereal. The sun was reflected beautifully in your Y/H/C hair, your skin glowing in the sun in an oh so tempting way until venom was pooled in his mouth, forcing him to swallow it down. As if you had felt his eyes on you your head turned, and you stared right at him for a moment.

He was sure you couldn’t actually see him given the distance, but in the blink of an eye your raccoon had scampered to your side and you were on your feet, flipping him your middle finger as the picnic blanket and the contents spread on it began to twist like a tornado. It curved graciously and disappeared into your backpack like it had never been out in the first place. The raccoon jumped in next while you opened another shimmering hole. Demetri’s eyes flitted left and right in a panic, and when he was sure there were no cars coming or humans about, he launched himself out of the car towards you.

“Leave me alone!” you yelled. His fingertips graced the edges of the hole once more, something he could only assume was some sort of window perhaps, as it snapped closed. He let loose a hiss of frustration, lashing out at the air that had once held a window to a place with snow-capped mountains. He had lost you again.

He lost you when he finally made it to Alaska.

He couldn’t get close to you in Madrid either.

He was close to you in the bazaar’s of Egypt before you burned a stall so badly he almost set ablaze and was forced to retreat. Then he lost you again.

His fingertips just about grazed your backpack in Mexico before you hopped through another of those windows.

He finally, finally grasped your arm for the first time in Atlanta, and you blew him backwards without a second glance before disappearing again.

Every phone call back to Volterra was getting more and more painful. The Masters were impatient and Demetri had no answers despite months of chasing you about. He couldn't safely say what your gift was to appease Aro, or that you weren’t dangerous to Caius, nor could he tell any of his friends that he was any closer to securing his mate. Misery wasn’t even close to the way the pit in his stomach felt. The chasm there grew wider every time he failed to catch you. He couldn’t bring himself to run after you, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop either. You were the one who could fix the broken parts of his soul, the shattered pieces of him that had began to grow numb without you. The mate pull was strong, your tenor all but throbbing these days in an effort to drag you to him. Of all the places for you to end up he really hadn’t expected to find you back at your old house.

He stood on the porch, palm pressed flat to the plastic doorframe. Demetri couldn’t bring himself to move for a little while, his eyes closed as he strained his ears to try and listen inside. He was sure you were in there, it was where your tenor led after all, but there was no sound at all from inside, not even your heartbeat. You had to be here, you just had to! The door swung open without warning.

“Do you plan on standing outside our door for the rest of the night or will you barge in like last time?” the haughty voice came from no one he could see, at least, not until he glanced downwards. The racoon he had seen you with so often was stood on his hind legs, front paws folded over his chest and his sharp little teeth bared in what might have been a sneer. Demetri could only stare at him for a moment, sure he was going mad. Had he really spent so long suffering this separation anxiety that he was finally going round the bend? Losing his marbles and imagining talking animals was a sure sign he should probably go home, right?

“Odd…animals usually scatter.” He murmured. His eyes widened when the racoon rolled his eyes, paws uncrossing and moving to his hips.

“I am no animal. Do you see me scavenging in the bins? Y/N! He’s here! And he’s rude!” the racoon called over his shoulder, dropping to all fours to scamper from the doorway. Demetri couldn’t quite keep the shock off of his face as you appeared at the end of the corridor from him. You looked so tired, exhausted even, skin a little pale and eyes heavy with sorrow. Clearly the time spent apart had affected you as much as it had him. He tried to straighten his spine, carry himself with strength and purpose, but it had all been sapped from him little by little whenever he had been forced to let you go. With a quiet sigh, you inclined your head in an invitation to follow you, and Demetri stepped over the threshold with a quiet gulp. He felt like a schoolboy with a crush, his nerves fluttering in his stomach.

He glanced about as he walked down the corridor, noting that the books were not back on the shelf again but there was a blanket on the sofa, a half-open book laying beside it. Crockery had been piled up, the scents of something spicy and earthy mixing in the air of the kitchen. You sat at the table with a mostly eaten bowl of what appeared to be curry in front of you, your fork lifting another load of vegetables and rice coated in sauce towards your mouth. He heard every bite of course but quickly tuned out the repetitive crunch of your chewing, standing awkwardly in the doorway as he took in the rustic feel of your kitchen in an otherwise modern house. Lots of natural wood on the countertops and kitchen island, making up the seat of the bar stools placed around and the cupboards that lined the walls. Terracotta tile lined the floor. It all looked so normal, but you were far from that.

“You keep odd pets.” He said finally, desperate to chase away the silence plaguing him. There was nothing but the eerie quiet until you finished the last few bites, moving your bowl to the sink and filling it with water before you set it on the side near the other washing up to be done. For a moment, you simply gripped the edge of the countertop and leaned over the sink. You didn’t look at him, nor speak to him, but your heart was thumping loudly in his ears and he could feel such tangible energy radiating from you it took all his willpower not to go to you. It would be as natural and as instinctual as breathing, to wrap his arms around your waist and breathe in your scent.

“Castor isn’t my pet.” Your answer was quiet yet so deafeningly loud when it shattered the silence. Demetri wasn’t sure what to say and he hated it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! It wasn’t supposed to be so stilted and awkward. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to land on a topic of conversation that seemed safe, but nothing came to mind. With a heavy sigh, you finally turned to face him and clicked your fingers. His head snapped towards the kettle when it began to boil without you touching it, his eyes widening slightly. A teacup flew right past his head, hovering before a box of tea leaves before a pinch of the leaves hopped obediently into the cup like a rabbit.

“What the…” he breathed, eyes snapping back towards you. You were watching him carefully, evaluating his reaction. Demetri quickly snapped his jaw closed and wiped his face of any and all emotion, but he was sure you had seen it all anyway.

“Sit. I think we need to talk.” You pointed to the chair opposite you and it pulled out for him. Warily, he approached to settle himself on the barstool opposite you, his spine stiff and the leather of his jacket squeaking as it was forced to bend at the elbows, his hands resting neatly on the wooden surface of the island you sat at. A freshly brewed cup of tea moved in front of you, the water not so much as rippling as it set itself down. You immediately curled your hands around it, the sleeves of your jumper half-covering your hands. Cosy, they like cosy he thought absent-mindedly.

“Y/N! The signal’s gone again!” that same voice, the racoon. Demetri couldn’t help but slouch now, holding his head in his hands as he tried to make something make sense. Your pet racoon (an odd choice in itself) could talk, you could apparently move things with your mind, and teleport from place to place, and set things on fire, and now…now…

“Of course its gone! We don’t technically live here anymore remember?” you called back with an irritated eye roll.

“Well how am I supposed to watch Judge Judy?” the racoon - Castor, he reminded himself – whined.

“Go on the roof and fix the aerial then, I’m busy!” the irritation in your tone was obvious and he fell silent at that. Demetri lifted his head, looking at you honestly and openly for the first time since you met. He was confused, and desperate, and the one thing he wanted more than anything else right now was you. Your life story, your deepest fears, your passions, he wanted everything you were willing to give. None of the dizzying nonsense he was faced with.

“I have to understand,” he pleaded, “I have to understand you, please. Please, help me, understand you.” For a second, your eyes flashed. Regret, indignation, anger, defeat, hopelessness. Then your shoulders sagged, and your gaze turned to the depths of your teacup, watching the steam dance and dissipate.

“I can’t really help you. I don’t understand me either.” You answered. Demetri’s frown deepened, his desperation swelling into anger that he couldn’t suppress.

“No. No you do not get to sit there after this futile game of chase and-“

“Futile?” you snapped your eyes to him again.

“Was it not? I found you anyway. We are where we were always destined to end up.” He pointed out, lifting a hand to gesture between you both across the table from each other. He pressed his palms into the surface of the island, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath.

“Nothing in this life is inevitable.” Your voice was cold as an arctic wind. Demetri counted to ten before he opened his eyes to try again.

“What did you mean? What do you not understand? Your gift?” he questioned. A mirthless laugh escaped you, your smile entirely false as you appraised him with so much condescension and loathing in your stare it made his heart sink. You hated him. You hated him and you had no idea how much that killed him inside.

“My gift? My power. Whatever your aim was in coming here you won’t confuse me, tempt me away with you like I’m some simple, gifted child that needs a tutor. I know and understand what I am fully. I have honed my craft and my identity for 260 years and then you come along-“ you inhaled sharply, looking at your teacup once more before blowing on it once and downing it in one quick gulp. You hadn’t drained it all, and the remainder of the water was swirled from left to right three times over before a saucer appeared in front of you, and you slowly began to invert the cup. Demetri realised he had lost your attention as you slowly completed this ritual, and only when your cup was sitting upside down on the saucer did you move your eyes back to him.

“Your craft?” he asked finally.

“Yes, my craft. Witchcraft, to be precise.” You huffed. Demetri could only stare at you, dumbfounded by the answer. Witchcraft? Witches didn’t exist he was sure, and yet…werewolves had, vampires did, and the things you could do had to come from somewhere. Nobody in the world he knew of had more than one gift. And 260 years? You were barely a day over twenty surely! The youthful glow of your skin, the speed and agility you possessed…you could not have been older than 25 he was sure.

"How do you-"

"Sh." you rotated the upside-down teacup three times and flipped it upright once more, pointing the handle due south if he had guessed correctly. With a flick of your wrist the saucer full of remaining tea moved to the washing up pile and you leaned over the cup to stare at the contents within. Demetri didn’t want to admit to you just how sceptical he was, but he had seen plenty of people ‘tell the future’ with tea leaves, and not a single one of them had ever been right in his experience.

“You do not need to divine how this conversation-“

“It’s not this conversation I want to know about,” you said sharply, casting him an irritated glare before moving the cup towards him, “I asked for what might happen to us now. The rim is the near future and the dog symbolises faithful friends.”

“So you may yet grow to like me, wonderful.” He murmured with a sigh.

“Or it could mean Castor. I very much like him.” you returned. Demetri shot you an exasperated look.

“Fine, if that is the near future than what about the future further away?” he questioned, unable to fight his rising curiosity and not wanting to start an argument with you again when you finally seemed to be open to talking to him. Your finger pointed to a line of tea leaves that looked indistinguishable from the rest to him.

“In the middle of the cup, the horse’s mane. There will be a prosperous journey where desires will be fulfilled.” You informed him. Demetri raised an eyebrow. You would have to come back to Volterra with him at some point surely? If he could win your favour you would eventually move in with him since he couldn’t just quit the guard, didn’t want to either. Did it mean that? The prospect gave him more hope than he dared to admit.

“Where will this journey lead to?” he asked.

“It doesn’t work that way. This is divination, not a bullet point plan.” You reprimanded. Demetri had been so lost in your teacup he startled when the racoon jumped up beside him, a snicker escaping the little bastard. He fought the urge to swat at him, knowing it wouldn’t help him win you over if he tried to assault your friend. Your racoon friend…who could talk…good lord what had he gotten himself into?

“Fine, so we have one ambiguous teacup telling us our future holds faithful friends and a prosperous journey, but we do not know who these friends are or where this journey will take us, so we are no further forward than we were when we started.” Demetri pointed out, folding his arms over his chest. Your eyebrows rose.

“There happens to be a serpent’s fork tongued in the bottom of the cup, in the distant future.” You said, your tone ominously dark now. The racoon stiffened a bit, hopping forward to peer inside, nose twitching at the pungent smell of tea leaves. Demetri could sympathise with the thing on that account at least.

“And?” he prompted.

“Serpents signify spiteful enemies,” Castor sniffed, sitting on his hind legs again and scratching at his head. “Distant is good though, we can plan for distant.”

“Forgive me but how is that racoon talking?” Demetri demanded, slowly losing his mind with every word that slipped from his mouth.

“That racoon? That racoon! Does he want to test whose teeth are sharper? I have a name you loathsome little leech!” he squeaked indignantly.

Demetri hissed slightly. “Then have it engraved on a collar.”

“Oh you – take that – the impertinence!” he could barely squeeze out a sentence, hissing and squeaking in between words as his lips trembled in a snarl, beady little eyes narrowed in the most vicious glare Demetri had ever seen on a racoon. If his skin wasn’t as impenetrable as it was he would actually be afraid of the feral little shit.

“Enough!” you cried, “Castor happens to be my familiar and you will treat him with the respect he deserves while you’re in my house and you! You stop antagonising him!” Demetri looked at you incredulously, Castor giving another annoyed little squeak before he scurried away, grumbling about rude vampires and ungrateful witches. Dropping your head in your hands you took a few deep breaths, and Demetri finally saw just how exhausted you were for the first time that night. He had been getting closer every time he tracked you, a brush of his fingers on your backpack and his hand actually around your arm once, but he had never once caught you until now. He was starting to suspect it wasn’t by accident either.

“Y/N…why now?” Demetri asked quietly. His eyes searched your face, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze, head hung low and fingers tightening in the roots of your hair.

“Because I am so tired of running from you. I am so, so tired…and I have nothing else,” you looked up, eyes swimming with emotions he couldn’t quite define just yet, “I have no final destination. Not even this house is mine anymore so tell my why exactly should I keep running? What am I running towards? Where do I run to?” Demetri stared you down, unsure what to say. He knew what he wanted to say, knew that he wanted to tell you you had been running from fate all along, from the very future your teacup told you you could have with prosperity and faithful relationships abundant. He sensed you weren’t ready for that yet, he had barely managed one civil conversation with you.

“Y/N, the signals back but Judge Judy’s finished! Can we get back deleted recordings from the box?” Castor yelled through. Y/N glanced briefly at the living room and shook her head. He had the most uncanny habit of interrupting for the most unimportant things at the most important moments.

“Stay, or don’t. Just don’t kill my familiar, or anyone else for that matter.” You said. With that, you left him in the kitchen trying to digest exactly what he had seen and heard that evening.

He also really needed to figure out a way to coexist with that racoon.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #the volturi #demetri volturi #x witch reader #a little magic #demetri volturi x witch!reader #castor the racoon #best character I ever did make #divination #witchcraft

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asfaltics · 3 years

Text

attended to his letters; a course of reducing exercises

or did you hear commentaries [ ] over the radio? I don’t have the time to do it. You don’t have time to do it. 1 and that, of course, you don’t have time to was taught the game 2 increasing the feed for / my dope, but you don’t have time 3 You don’t have time to investigate them fully yourself? No 4 It was hard work? — Yes, sir. You have to be fast and do the best you can. You don’t have time 5 for nearly everything; you don’t have time 6 You don’t have time to bother about your neighbors, and you don’t 7 enjoy our own com . pany , as we never have any chance to see friends around home, for you don’t have time after and before 8 And in some cases wastefully? — Not wastefully. Does not one involve the other? — I don’t see it in that light. A man applies for relief. You don’t have time to see that man. 9 you don’t have time to spend one hour in thinking every day to see your business in a bigger, better, and cleaner way than it is today. [ ] desk covered with papers, unfinished business, no time to see 10 the “ticket” for large swamps. You don’t have time 11 You see, when you’re on the news end of a thing like this you don’t have time to get worked up. 12 “Well,” she said, “I suppose you are so busy at the office you don’t have time. 13 you are so terribly busy that I suppose you don’t have time to feel lonesome. Why can’t girls do something like that, too? 14 “How did you like it down there?” he asked. “Well” — she paused thoughtfully — “down there you can keep busy. There’s something to do all the time; you can keep so occupied that you don’t have time to stop and think and feel.” 15 you don’t have time to think of danger” But one foggy morning not long after... 16 today. always say you don’t have time to read. ward, like a girl 17 By the time he had days. When you’re busy you don’t have time to attended to his letters. 18 a course of reducing exercises, you don’t have time to think of that. I don’t believe I’m abnormal, perhaps I am, but 19 Well, I use two formulas; saying you “don’t have time” is part of the world of citation. Saying you “have time” is part of the world of translation. I think that the questioning typical of translation has always been absent in the plastic arts. 20

sources ( “you don’t have time,” all but two pre-1923 )

1 ex reporters’ transcript, April 20, 1959, The People of the State of California, Plaintiff, vs. Louis Estrada Moya, et al., Defendent, being part of the Transcript of Record, Supreme Court of the United States, October Term, 1960, No. 186, Luis Estrada Moya, Petitioner, vs. California on write of certiori to the Supreme Court of the State of California (petition filed June 9, 1960; granted June 27, 1960) : 200 aside — Google misdated this 1832; 1960 was outside of my search range. A well-known case (I was too young at the time to know it). Some sources : ◾ “A mother-in-law’s murder for hire scheme results in death penalty for all three participants” at vcdistrictattorney, in which this : “What made the case unique? The hired killers testified against Mrs. Duncan without commitment [that] the District Attorney would not seek the death penalty in exchange for their testimony... In fact, all three received the death penalty and were executed. Of course, today’s appellate courts would likely reverse a case in which a defense attorney failed to seek sentencing concessions in exchange for testimony.” ◾ Arlene Martinez, “Love, scandal and murder: Ventura County case drew national attention,” VC Star (June 29, 2013) ◾ Alice de Sturler review of Jim Barrett his definitive Ma Duncan at Defrosting Cold Cases (October 17, 2020) ◾ Cecelia Rasmussen, “A Mother’s Love Was the Death of Her Daughter-in-Law,” Los Angeles Times (January 20, 2002; paywall) ◾ Joan Renner, “Dead Woman Walking: Elizabeth Ann ‘Ma’ Duncan,” parts 1-4 (2013) at Deranged LA Crimes (True 20th Century tales of murder, mayhem, political corruption, and celebrity scandal) and, finally, ◾ wikipedia 2 OCR cross-column misread, at Annie Eliot, “John Emerson Gaines’s Love Affairs,” The Manhattan 2:5 (November 1883) : 467-475 (468) snippet view only, opens to hathitrust. Annie Eliot Trumbull (1857–1949), author of novels, short stories, and plays; associated with Hartford, Connecticut’s “Golden Age”. wikipedia 3 OCR cross-column misread at H. E. Browing on “Pig Tails,” at The Swine World (Google titles it Poland China World) 5:2 (September 1917) : 11 4 ex Statement of William E. Johnson, chief special officer, United States Indian Affairs, before Committee on Indian Affairs, re: Senate Resolution No. 263 (Washington, 1910) : 367-400 (392) an intense exchange, on sale of alcohol on reservations. William E. “Pussyfoot” Johnson (1862-1945) was an energetic and resourceful prohibitionist and law enforcement officer. (wikipedia) 5 here, Julius Baum, examined by J. R. Lamar (January 29, 1896), in Contested Election Case of Thomas E. Watson Vs. J.C.C. Black, from the Tenth Congressional District of the State of Georgia, and published in/by the U.S. Congress, Committee on Elections (Washington, 1896) : 535 aside — an episode in the dismantling of Reconstruction institutions and Black suffrage. ◾ Thomas E(dward). Watson (1856-1922) (wikipedia). ◾ Watson is discussed in Jo Ann Whatley, her remarkable MA thesis Pike County Blacks : the spirit of populist revolt and White tolerance (1891-1896) as depicted in the Pike County Journal and other related sources (Atlanta University, 1984), available here ◾ Watson was succeeded by James C(onquest). C(ross). Black (1842-1928) (wikipedia). “Black was declared the winner of the election but Watson charged that the vote was fraudulent. Black agreed to resign his seat just after the opening of the 54th Congress so that a new election could be held. In the October 1895 special election, Black prevailed over Watson again, and thus took his seat back to fill the vacancy caused by his own resignation.” J.C. C. Black entry, at Biographical Directory of the United States Congress 6 ex Investigation of Hazing at U. S. Military Academy, being “Testimony taken by the Select Committee of the House of Representatives appointed to investigate and report on the alleged hazing and resulting death of Oscar L. Booz, late a cadet at the Military Academy, and upon the subject of the practice of hazing at the said academy.” (1901) : 776 7 another contested election, here Mrs. Louise Roller under cross-examination by Mr. Goldsmith, in Scholl, Charles L. Vs. Bell, Henry A. Jefferson Circuit Court (Louisville, Kentucky), Chancery Branch: First Division, Chas. L. Scholl, Plaintiff Vs. Henry A. Bell, Defendant. No. 41519. / Second Division, Arthur Peter, Plaintiff Vs. Chas. A. Wilson, Defendant, No. 41524. : “Contested election cases heard together,” Transcript of Record, Volume 8 (10 volumes in 9) : 39 (snippet only, but in full at hathitrust) 8 ex report from Washington Division (by Cert. 9730), 23:5 (May 1906) [number/month uncertain, could be June] : 712 (opens to hathitrust; found via google snippet view) 9 ex the “Poplar Inquiry,” here an examination of Mr. P. G. Miles, Relieving Officer, in Transcript of Shorthand Notes taken at the Public Inquiry held by J. S. Davy, C.B., Chief General Inspector of the Local Government Board, “into the general conditions of the Poplar Union, its pauperism, and the admnistration of the guardians and their officers.” Presented to both Houses of Parliament... (London, 1906) : 141 On the Poplar workhouse, see workhouses.org.uk (scroll down (near bottom) to “The Poplar Union Scandal and Inquiry”). ◾ Poplar is a district in East London (wikipedia) 10 ex E. Elmo Martin (Cleveland, Ohio), “How to hand the day’s work,” in National Lime Association Proceedings (Twentieth Annual Convention, Cleveland, Ohio; June 13-16, 1922) : 68-76 (73) (snippet view; full view at hathitrust) 11 ex H. Stimmons (Stark Co., Ohio), “More about coon hounds,” Hunter-trader-trapper 25:3 (December 1912) : 87-89 (88) (snippet view at Google, but full view at hathitrust, NW second paragraph) 12 ex Wayland Wells Williams (“author and artist,” 1888-1945), The Whirligig of Time (Frederick A. Stokes, 1916) : 335 Wayland Wells Williams papers at Yale YCAL MSS 551 13 ex T.I.M., “Dimpleton Stays at Home : A Story with a Real Moral,” in Life (July 25, 1907) : 155-158 (156) 14 snippet view only, at The Cactus (Austin, Texas; 1908) : 275 A journal “published by and for the students of the University of Texas”; 1907 and 1909 (but not 1908 alas) at hathitrust. 15 “down there” being Chicago, ex Henry Oyen (1883-1921), chapter 36 of “Big Flat,” in The Country Gentleman 84: (March 8, 1919) : 20, 22, 57-59 The novel was published in 1919, same passage at p 204 (NYPL copy) ◾ Haven't located much information about Oyen; his published work is listed at his Online Books page 16 Homer Randall. Army Boys in the French Trenches Or, Hand to Hand Fighting with the Enemy (New York: George Sully & Company, 1918) : 199 Six “Army Boys” titles were produced by the Stratemeyer Syndicate 1918-1920, all under the pseudonym Homer Randall : Army Boys in France, Army Boys in the French Trenches, Army Boys on the Firing Line, Army Boys in the Big Drive, Army Boys Marching into Germany, and Army Boys on German Soil (stratemeyer.org) ◾ The Stratemeyer Syndicate records (1832-1984; bulk 1905-1984) are at NYPL ◾ See also Stratemeyer pseudonyms and series books : an annotated checklist of Stratemeyer and Stratemeyer Syndicate publications / compiled and edited by Deidre Johnson (1982); Deidre Johnson, Edward Stratemeyer and the Stratemeyer Syndicate (Twayne Publishers, 1993); and wikipedia 17 OCR cross-column misread at Harriet Winton Davis, “With the Children : Don’s Knitting,” in The Congregationalist and Advance (August 29, 1918) : 241 Other (not this) issues at hathitrust 18 OCR cross-column misread (extended here), ex H. D. Morgan, Ph. C., “The Kid,” in the section Original and Selected : From the best writers, and the leading drug, medical, chemical and scientific publications of the world, in Practical Druggist and Pharmaceutical Review of Reviews (November 1908) : 529-534 19 Frank R. Adams (1883-1963), “The Heart Pirate,” (illustrations by Charles D. Mitchell), in The Cosmopolitan 72:3 (March 1922) : 43-48, 117-118 (44) — snippet view, but opens at hathitrust More — “... yell for a diet and start doing a course of reducing exercises, you don’t have time to think of that. I don’t believe I’m abnormal, perhaps I am, but just since this afternoon I have come to the conclusion that if you want to put down crime you’ve got to suppress more than just alcohol — you’ve got to suppress the modern flapper. They’re so damnably desirable...” (It gets worse...). See wikipedia; author’s papers at Oregon 20 ex Giuseppe Caccavale : in giardino, a buon fresco (content by Laura Cherubini, Giuseppe Caccavale, Chiara Bertola and Claudia Gian Ferrari; Charta, 2009) : 77

Needed another line, and thought Samuel Beckett might provide. Search yielded no Beckett, but the above passage, fitting in its way and no more nor less ambiguous than anything else here. something recent — Giuseppe Caccavale « Projet Paul Celan », Residence Concordia, Parigi gennaio-ottobre 2020; testo e foto dell’artista. (1 February 2021)

method

A friend reminded me, recently, that I don’t have time (for what is irrelevant here). Have been ruminating on (avoiding the consequences of) this, since. And thinking too about the place dimension of time, as discussed by Veronica O’Keane in her The Rag and Bone Shop : How we make memories and memories make us (2021) — “One’s sense of time is inseparable from events, but this is a sense of time. Might time have something to do with place cells?” (107) and “The whole concept of time is generally unhelpful in understanding science, be it physics or neuroscience... From the perspective of recording events, the present is consciousness. In a seemingly ironic twist, I myself think that the only place that time does not exist is in the moment of consciousness...” (113)

The encountered lines — all included above from my search in pre-1923 sources — have found their respective though non-chronological places in a kind of rocking, panning motion, in which sediments settle into their respective ripples / couplets.

Would, could, does this — sequence — work (whatever “work” means) without the anchorings / tetherings / bibliographic wastefull(ness; line 9 above) that follow it? They were needed in the making, anyway, and for there to be sufficient distraction for the making to sustain.

all subject to change.

#contested elections #couplet #time #swamps #waste #Poplar Inquiry #Giuseppe Caccavale #William E. Pussyfoot Johnson

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tlou-1 · 3 years

Text

Joel x Reader (Home) - Chapter 15

Chapter 15 - Life being pregnant in Jackson with a protective Joel and Ellie on hand. (A bit of fluff)

A couple months later you were working your shift in the Tipsy Bison. It had been a few days since you had been able to come on shift, turns out you hadn’t escaped the morning sickness but rather it would hit you at the beginning of your second trimester. It felt nice to be out of the house and doing something. Molly was sat with you to keep you company before Joel and Ellie came to meet you. Things had changed quite a bit over the space of these two months, Molly and Jesse were not together but still friends (thankfully for you). She had explained that he needed to be with someone his own age, Jesse was pretty wise for his years but maybe Molly was right.

Joel and Ellie arrive in the bar a little late, their patrol must have taken longer than expected. They went to sit alongside Molly, Ellie removing her bag and taking a seat when Joel asked “I thought you were to supposed to be finished work?”.

It had only been an extra hour you had been on shift. “I was, I thought you two were supposed to be back a while ago?” you retaliate.

“She’s got us there” Ellie sighs. The pair had started patrols together last month and had been out together frequently since. It all started with an argument between you, Maria and Joel and Ellie. You were adamant you could still go on patrol, Maria supported this decision for the early stages of your pregnancy but well Joel and Ellie wouldn’t hear any of it.

“Maria you ain’t seriously thinking of letting her go out there?” Joel hissed

“Joel I am standing right here. I swear to god if you talk across me again… I can go out there and it’’s not like you wouldn’t be there to keep an eye!” You shout

“You’re both stubborn as mules” Maria sounded exhausted by it all.

“I’ll take her patrols with Joel” Ellie volunteered. You protest again.

“Fine I can take most of her patrols, you could still go out occasionally. Compromise for everyone?” Ellie shrugged. It seemed the best deal and looking at how good the time together had been for Joel and Ellie’s relationship it had its positives.

Later that night after Ellie had joined you both for dinner. You and Ellie were sat on the sofa chatting away whilst Joel cleaned the dishes. “We will need to take Junior, when they are old enough!” Ellie smiles her knees tucked under her chin. You laugh and rest your hands upon your ever growing belly “Definitely although we might need a better tour guide than Joel it sounds”.

“What are you two laughing at? I heard my name” Joel appears from the kitchen still drying his hands.

“Oh I am just hearing about the museum. Sounds like you are quite the Dr John Hammond” You tease your husband but he doesn’t seem to care.

“The women knows Jurassic Park, I knew I loved you for some reason darlin” he exclaims pointing at you before planting an over dramatic kiss on your cheek which you playfully swat away.

You continue to tease Joel with Ellie’s assistance when he returns to the kitchen. “Well Joel I think you could take some lessons from Ellie by the sounds of it” you call.

“I think it sounds like all my girls are ganging up on me in there” he laughs and goes to sit in-between you both finally finished with the dishes.

“Oh I dunno we could have a little guy in here, might make it even numbers for you” you tease placing a hand on your bump. Joel goes still for a second before falling back into the sofa.

“Oh Christ a boy? I don’t think I’d know what to do with a boy” he sighs looking up at the ceiling. You and Ellie just laugh shaking your heads at him.

That night you all rewatched Jurassic Park together. Ellie had tried balancing the bowl of popcorn on your ever growing stomach,

“Ellie would you stop trying to use my wife as a table” he tutted her away.

“Oh Joel you know the older child always acts up when they are about to have younger sibling” you joke lying your feet along him, getting comfy. Before Ellie laughs sarcastically throwing a handful of popcorn at your face.

“I see what you mean” Joel smiles and Ellie just rolls her eyes at you both.

The further into the pregnancy you got the more Joel fussed over you, sometimes it was endearing, other times it could be infuriating. It was Spring which meant you could spend more time outdoors but Joel preferred you didn’t do too much hard labour. He got his wish as by the 6th month it was damn impossible to do the simplest of tasks. In the mornings before your walks with Bruce there were multiple occasions where you had to have Joel tie the laces to your shoes. He could feel your frustration at this so wouldn’t say very much in these type of moments worried about getting caught in the crossfire.

“This is ridiculous, I still have another three months. I cant not be able to tie my shoes until then… I am getting huge” you almost cry with the irritation.

Joel stays crouching after tying your shoes, “Baby I am going to be here to tie your shoes every single day and I believe you to be absolutely stunnin” he takes your hand in his.

One night you wake with a jolt. Joel wakes up almost immediately too, he never had been a heavy sleeper. “What is it? What’s wrong?”.

You relax back against your pillow, smiling “They are kicking”. It was the strangest sensation you had experienced, it felt so odd and yet so comforting. You reach for Joel’s hand and hold it against the top of your bump, there is nothing for a few seconds and then. Joel laughs softly, smiling at the sensation of feeling your child’s foot against your skin.

“That’s amazing” you say fascinated.

“Isn’t it? Let me try something” Joel shifts himself so he is propped comfortably right next to your stomach. He begins to talk softly, he talks about Jackson, Ellie, Bruce and your life together as a family.

“Joel, what are you doing?” You ask sleepily, his voice was soothing to listen to.

“Your Mama is looking pretty tired little one, do you think you can give the kicking a rest so she can get a bit of sleep?” He smiles up at you.

#tlou #tlou part 2 #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #the last of us part ii #joel miller series #joel miller smut #Joel Miller x Reader #joel x reader #tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller fanfic #the last of us fanfic #The Last of us part 2 fanfic #Ellie Williams

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blouisparadise · 4 years

Photo

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of August. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Move Out | Explicit | 1525 words

Harry and Louis are moving in together, so they might as well make the most of Harry's apartment.

2) Take Off Your Business Suit | Explicit | 3082 words

“Yes, let me get another chair.” Louis said, leaning up off of the desk. He stood up but before he could leave the office to get another chair, Harry was grabbing his hand.

The words that came out of Harry’s mouth made Louis’ knees weak and heart beat quicken. “Just sit on my lap.” Harry said. Whatever he said afterwards didn’t make it into Louis’ ears as he was moving quickly over to Harry and placing himself on Harry’s lap.Louis would take anything Harry wanted to give him; hand touching, lap sitting, all of it.

Louis hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a quiet sigh. “Okay so th-this one will be slightly different right?” He asked as he pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him.

3) So Good, It's Making Me Drool | Explicit | 3364 words

He kept his back turned to Harry, whispering the few words he knew that would make Harry go absolutely wild. “If I’m only yours, maybe you should take me to bed and teach me who I belong to.”

4) What I Like | Explicit | 4245 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

Harry gets tired of the "older women" jokes and the incessant teasing from Louis.

5) ll Belong To Your Creation | General Audiences | 4349words

Louis had always thought it was impossible to do so. Thankfully, upon doing research he learned that he still can as long as there are no complications throughout the whole pregnancy. He also stumble upon a birth vlog where a mum was able to give birth naturally even after going through c-section with her first and second pregnancy.

6) An Axolotl and the Fake Date | Explicit | 5976 words

Harry runs a stall at a farmers market every weekend and Louis comes by one day with an odd request.

7) Feels So Right | Explicit | 8804 words

The one where Louis is Troy, Harry is Gabriella, and we find out what really happened after karaoke at that ski resort...

8) Giallo! | Mature | 9776 words

Louis was a mess. A stuttery mess of weak knees and grass stains on his fresh linen clothes, his cheeks blooming a natural pink that matched his sunburnt nose. Upon his return from University, his family abandon the bustling city of London to bask in the comfort of their summer villa. With such a property came maintenance, Louis' father hired a strapping young fellow with tanned skin littered with ink and a charming smile aided by dimples in both his cheeks. Between reading, baking and painting, Louis stares at Harry, he couldn't help it. They grow close under the sun of Greece in 1989.

9) Interlude: One Night in March | Explicit | 10671 words

Note: This is a sequel to this fic.

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Harry let his hands roam over Louis’s bare back, his muscles rippling with that same frenetic energy he always had, swirling just beneath the skin, just beneath Harry’s fingers. “May come a time I’ll have to carry you again.”

Cupping the back of his head and burying his fingers in Louis’s hair, he pulled Louis back into another deep kiss, moaned a bit when Louis squeezed his chest again, harder this time, like he wanted the shirt off. But instead he drew his hand down Harry’s side and tugged at the hem, as though to say best keep this on, before he licked into Harry’s mouth, drew Harry’s tongue out to play only to pull back enough to speak.

“May come a time I’ll actually fucking let you.”

10) Hate To Smoke (Without Me) | Mature | 12164 words

Sleep. Harry just wants one good night of sleep. However, his neighbour has a thing for headboard-banging-against-the-wall-sex every night. After a secret set-up and a bet, Harry may finally get the sleep he so much desires.

11) Call You Mine | Explicit | 12755 words

“I have a request.”

That’s what Louis Tomlinson says to Harry when he opens the front door a bit too aggressively. The latter feels justified after a round of annoyingly incessant knocking that was much too loud in the drowsy sludge of early Saturday morning.

“Zayn’s asleep,” is Harry’s tired, hoarse reply, irritation prickling at his skin. Less than a minute ago he was in bed, feeling perfectly content sprawled out on the mattress with the chilled air from the fan cool against his bare skin. And now he’s leaning up against the wooden door frame in nothing but his briefs because Zayn’s best mate decided that showing up unannounced at seven in the fucking morning was a brilliant idea.

“I’m not here for him,” says Louis curtly.

12) A Vivid And Wistful Melody | Explicit | 13128 words

"Slowly, he takes his violin out of its case, listens for a few more minutes to Louis’ flute, before joining him as best as he could. The flute stops for a few seconds, and Harry imagines Louis blinking cutely, taken aback, before huffing with a smile, and starting to play again, on a suddenly far happier tune. Harry closes his eyes as he twirls around the living room, violin in hand and music filling the air. He pictures Louis doing the same in his own flat while being careful as to not step on his cat.

Somehow, even with heavy eyes and tired limbs, this is the happiest Harry has ever felt in years."

In which they are neighbours stuck at home and they happen to start talking through a wall with a piano, a violin, and a flute. They end up writing the soundtrack of their own love story.

13) Until This Blood Runs Cold | Explicit | 13685 words

In a town as small as Louis’, everybody knows everybody and gossip spreads faster than the wildfires that rage on just outside their backdoors in the sweltering heat of summer. When something happens here everyone knows about it within seconds. Neighbors call neighbors and notes are left on doorsteps, old telephone lines ringing until there isn’t a single person who is left in the unknown.

So it’s definitely hot gossip when a vampire moves in across the street from him, the very same one who’s just become Louis’ boss.

14) A Road To Hope | Explicit | 18280 words

Note: There is no explicit smut but its implied BL.

“We’re far from the people and their issues, don’t hold back. Please.”

It’s true. They are far away from anything that could stop them, the middle of nowhere being the safest place on Earth for them to fall in love. The sacred land where sacred love is created. However, Louis is certain that even if they weren’t safe, he wouldn’t resist the sight of Harry, his pleading eyes, his warm skin beneath his touch.

15) Your Eyes Of Blue, Your Kisses Too | Explicit | 21785 words

When they get out onto the streets away from the crowds Niall turns to walk backwards, “So did you get any leads?”

“Well- uh.”

Niall shakes his head, “Too busy kissing that pretty boy onstage, I see. Gonna blow the whole case for a piece of ass?”

16) Thinking About Peaches | Explicit | 23724 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #18 on this list.

Eight smutty drabbles following the events of bruise you like a peach.

17) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds | Mature | 38065 words

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

18) Bruise You Like A Peach | Explicit | 40694 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #16 on this list.

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

19) Falling Out Of Fashion | Explicit | 42123 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry Styles has been the established face of the Grimshaw House of Design for two years. It’s a prestigious and coveted modeling contract Harry took away from once-famed supermodel Zayn Malik. With the model transition Grimshaw’s designs went from a more urban, Zayn-forward aesthetic, to a Harry-favoring flowery, flowing femininity in the Grimshaw designs for men.

So when Harry sees a dress Grimshaw made for a famous Marvel actress, “only a tease”, Nick says, of the evolving look, Harry knows Grimshaw is shifting his aesthetic.

Harry wonders if he can pull off the look.

Or could Grimshaw be looking for a new face?

20) Secretly Dating | Mature | 43615 words

Lottie groaned, looming over Louis with a glare. “If we’re late, Mum and Dad will never let Harry see me – ie. see you.”

It was the first time they openly addressed the fact that Harry saw more of Louis than Lottie on their supposed ‘dates.’ He supposed he knew as much, but it still startled him. “You’ve been setting us up!”

Lottie snorted, cocking out her hip and brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Honestly, Harry. You’re so dense. To be fair, it was at Louis’ request.”

Louis’ mouth gaped like a fish as he jumped to standing position, wobbling only slightly. “Don’t sell me out!”

Lottie rolled her eyes. “Come on lovebirds.”

21) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) | Mature | 95417 words

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

22) The Healing Song | Mature | 111851 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis was carrying the large stuffed elephant like it was a baby, it’s trunk hanging over his shoulder and down his back and it’s front legs were resting around his neck, like it was hugging him. Said elephant was a present from Louis’ close friend Steve, who had thought Louis needed something to hug on bad days and had gifted him with a stuffed elephant the size of a one year old.

Steve had been right. Some days Louis did need something to hug, and this elephant was as good as anything.

Louis was having one of the rougher days. The harmonious state of the anxiety free life of a fearless Louis had ended the week after he met with Harry. It ended as abruptly as it had started. It was like pushing a button. Lights out. Almost as if the universe said “You’ve had your fun, crazy one, now go be sick” and slammed the door in his face.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

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sophistopheles · 4 years

Text

Where’s Ace Attorney 7?

A few days ago it was the third anniversary of the most recent Ace Attorney game, Dai Gyakuten Saiban 2- which means we’re going through a 36-month hiatus; longer than any we’ve had before, excluding the gap between Trials & Tribulations and Apollo Justice.

So what gives? Why haven’t we seen AA7 yet? Will we ever see it in the future, or is the franchise dead?

Well, I have a few theories for the first question, and some evidence concerning the second. This will probably get long, so I’ll put it under a cut.

Why is this hiatus so long?

Theory #1: Difficulties in porting the franchise to Switch

Ace Attorney has been on handhelds for its whole lifespan, so the sudden change to consoles may be slightly problematic in terms of gameplay- forensic evidence mechanics, the loss of a touchscreen, etc. The problem with this theory is that by all (w)rights, it should already be resolved; a port of the Trilogy already came to consoles last year, fingerprinting and all, and it worked just fine. It’s possible that creating a new AA game from scratch is difficult in its own way, and/or producing games for multiple platforms takes longer, but it doesn’t account for such a long delay.

Then again, Switch games might just take longer to make. I’d rather have a well-crafted AA game every three years than a rushed/poorly-made one every year.

Theory #2: Difficulties in finding a new director for the franchise

As most people know, Yamazaki, the director for the AAI duology, AA5, and AA6, left Capcom about a month ago. However, he said all the way back when SoJ was released that he only really stayed as AA’s director because of the fans, and also had Fuse, the games’ artist, step up as co-director for SoJ.

Takumi, the original trilogy/Apollo Justice/DGS writer and director, should theoretically have been available since 2018, but he has stated that he’s done with Phoenix’s story, and given that his last games haven’t sold very well (more because of marketing and bad timing than any flaws in the games, but I digress) it’s not guaranteed that he will return for AA7. Maybe if he does, we’ll get some answers to the many loose ends and questions left by AA4, but given that Apollo’s relocated to Khura’in as of the end of AA6, that’s not guaranteed either.

This leaves the only other candidate, co-director of SoJ Takuro Fuse. Personally I think his involvement as a full-on director in the future is quite likely, for reasons I’ll explain later.

Theory #3: We were supposed to get a game in 2019

This is just a pet theory of mine, but hear me out.

Dai Gyakuten Saiban was originally supposed to be a trilogy of games, until the Switch absolutely flattened the 3DS as the definitive Nintendo handheld, and Takumi decided to compress the remaining two games into just DGS2. This is why the third-case culprit and twists in DGS2 feel so sudden; the culprit was supposed to appear all throughout DGS2, and be arrested at the end, with DGS2-3’s big twist as a finale cliffhanger. DGS3 would have then completed the story.

My point is that DGS3 was likely slated for a 2019 release, given the release pattern of DGS (2015) and DGS2 (2017). That would have lessened the current three-year hiatus to just a two-year one, more standard for the AA franchise.

Theory #4: The franchise is dead, there are no plans for more games.

I find this difficult to believe given that Capcom is still creating content, running café promotions, releasing ports, and has stated plans for more AA games in the past, but I have to acknowledge the possibility.

Is Ace Attorney 7 coming soon?

After the 2018 Kotaku UK rumour (suggesting that ports of all six games and a new game were going to be released on the Switch by the end of 2018’s fiscal year) was disproven, I almost lost hope for any future AA games- but this year, there’s been a lot to suggest something’s coming soon.

1. The July 2020 Café

This one pretty much explains itself. If Capcom has decided to put money towards a café feature that promotes both the Trilogy and Apollo Justice- with Klavier and Apollo both featuring prominently on the café’s menu and in its merchandise- it stands to reason that they’re doing something with it. You don’t promote a franchise if there’s nothing to promote, after all.

2. The Café Art

So, remember two months ago when Ace Attorney dropped this new official art of Phoenix, Edgeworth, Maya, Apollo and Klavier, and the fandom lost their shit to the point of Ace Attorney trending on tumblr for about half an hour? Well, what I personally found most interesting was the style of the piece- because it was new. A quick scroll through Capcom Café’s twitter proved that as far as I can tell, when non-chibi art is called for, the official artists of the brand in question are the ones to draw the art. So who drew this one?! I could rule out Iwamoto, Fuse, Suekane and Nuri by their styles (Apollo especially looks quite unfamiliar)- so unless there’s someone I’ve forgotten, it seems like there’s a new Ace Attorney official artist.

And, well… they don’t hire new artists for fun. This artist, whoever they are, probably weren’t hired for a one-time café promotion either; as far as I know, most of the old AA artists are still working at Capcom. They’re probably doing something for the franchise.

Remember when I said Fuse, AA5/6’s art director, was a candidate for full time director? My personal theory is that he’s become the main director, and this new artist has taken his role as art director. It’s all speculation, of course, but it stands up to scrutiny.

3. Capcom X B-Side Label Maya Acrylic

Capcom have also had a recent merch collab with B-Side Label, and a certain merch image of Maya stood out to me… because it’s an entirely new design.

I could understand if it was only a discrepancy in the fact that she has four necklace beads while appearing to be an adult, or that she has arm guards but lacks an under-robe; they’re minor details. But to leave out her topknot, one of the most distinctive parts of her design?! Either the artist made a major mistake and no one called them up on it, or it was intentional- that this is a design meant to be an older and wiser Maya, who we’ll see in an upcoming game. I wouldn’t be surprised.

4. The 20th Anniversary

This is more of a meta point than anything else, but it’ll soon be 2021, the twentieth anniversary of Ace Attorney. AA is usually very good with anniversaries; in 2011 (10th anniversary) we got Investigations 2, and in 2016 (15th anniversary) we got both SoJ and an AA anime. I think if they’re ever going to release AA7, they’ll do it next year: at the very least, we’ll have another orchestra and more official art. And with TGS 2020 hosted online and fast approaching, I’m hoping for news very soon!

Either way, the future of Ace Attorney isn’t as dark as it seems! Keep your hopes up!

#ace attorney #aa7 #speculation #phoenix wright #soph's meta #this will either age like wine or milk #mine

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downwiththeficness · 4 years

Text

A Need So Great-Chapter 10

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count:

Warnings: Alcohol, smut, unprotected sex

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand @clydesducktape @revolution-starter

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 9, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

The bathing suit still fit. Eva was glad of it, she hadn’t had time to go out and shop for a new one. A cherry red halter top paired with high waisted bottoms, she’d purchased it a year or so previous on a whim and only worn it a handful of times. Being a consultant for the DEA didn’t lend itself to lounging by the water. She threw on a soft cotton cover up, stepped into her sandals, and grabbed the fifth of vodka sitting on her counter before walking over to Steve and Connie’s apartment.

The sun was shining brightly that day, as it did most days. And, like most days, the humidity was high. Eva could feel the heat rising from the asphalt as she crossed the parking lot and made her way down the street. When she got to their door, she shifted the vodka to the crook of her arm and knocked.

The door opened and Steve welcomed her in with a wave of his hand. He was wearing swim trunks and an unbuttoned short sleeve shirt, his hair wet and slicked back. She shuffled inside, putting the vodka in the freezer and heading out through the back door to a rectangular courtyard. The pool was encircled by a black metal fence about waist high. She spotted Connie standing next to Javier at the grill, setting down a plate of uncooked meat. She caught sight of Eva and smiled wide beneath her shades.

“C’mon,” she yelled, waving her hand wildly, “We have the pool for about four hours—til the sun goes down.”

Eva returned the wave, passing through the gate and over to where a few lounge chairs were situated, towels hanging over the back. Umbrellas provided each lounge with some shade from the sun.

“Okay,” Eva said, motioning to the courtyard, “Someone in housing definitely hates me. My shower barely works and you’ve got a fucking pool.”

Connie rolled her eyes, “Yeah, with a schedule so tight and political it could run for president. It took two months of sending brownies to the landlord just to get a half day booked.”

Eva squinted at her, “You have to book time?”

Nodding, Connie gestured for Eva to sit on the lounge chair opposite her, “I know, right? There are families here who have standing appointments months out.”

Steve, having followed Eva outside, called out, “What Connie isn’t telling you is that I slipped a stack of money into one of the brownie pans last week. Only way we got the permission.”

“Can’t you just...jump in?”

Connie’s eyes went wide, “Oh, Jesus. Saw someone try to do that the first week here. The guards fucking swarmed them, hauled ‘em out. Haven’t seen them since.”

Sounds about right, Eva thought. Everything seemed to be a quid pro quo down here. She’d seen a couple agents pay off their informants only to turn around and expense it to the department. Money could buy literally anything here.

“Let me tell you what happened yesterday at work,” Connie sighed, turning to lay back on the lounge, “I started at the NICU four months ago and I thought I had a handle on it. But, oh no, one of the other nurses has been taking my reports and shredding them. So, now my boss thinks I just don’t turn in my work.”

“No way,” Eva blurted out, scandalized.

“Yes, way,” Connie confirmed, pushing her sunglasses up on her nose, “So, I started making copies and locking them in my desk. But, I found out one of the maintenance guys has been letting her into it and she’s been taking my copies.”

Eva rested her head on her palm, mouth curling, “What’re you going to do about it?”

Connie smirked, “A little Ipicac in her morning coffee.”

Brows hitting her hairline, Eva’s mouth dropped. Connie was a forceful woman, could be outright domineering when she wanted something, but this was shocking behavior for her.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. Its harmless. Just a little vomiting during the staff meeting.”

“Does she know you did it?” Eva’s voice came out as a whisper, as if she was trying to keep the story secret.

“Nope,” Connie shook her head, blonde hair falling over one shoulder, “I was pretty slick about it.”

“I’m sure,” Eva confirmed. “One question: How is the behavior going to stop if she doesn’t know it was you who did it?”

Connie shrugged, “Every time one of my copies goes missing, I’ll do it again. She’ll get the picture eventually. I also had Steve get me a false bottom for my desk. I’ll have a third copy waiting, just in case.”

The smell of meat wafted over, a welcome change from the chlorine. Eva glanced at Javier and Steve, both of them staring at the grill intently. Javier was fidgeting with a metal spatula, forearm wiping at his brow.

“Is that a guy thing? Standing by the grill and watching food cook?”

Even though Eva couldn’t see Connie’s eyes behind her shades, she could tell that the other woman was rolling them, “I guess. Every man I know does it.”

“Same here,” Eva said, eyes squinting. “I mean, they’re not even talking.”

Connie laughed a little, reaching into the cooler and handing Eva a beer. She popped the top for her and grabbed one for herself, “I suppose it could be worse.”

“Could be fireworks.”

Brows raised, Connie asked, “Is there a story there?”

“Ah,” Eva edged, “When I was a kid, my parents used to have this block party on the fourth with this huge fireworks display. One of the neighbors built a potato cannon that they primed with hairspray. One year they shot roman candles out of it.”

Jaw open, Connie took a few seconds to reply, “Did...someone get hurt?”

“Oh, no,” Eva clarified, dismissing the thought with a wave of her hand, “A window got knocked out, but no one got hurt.”

A while later, Eva was fanning herself with her hand, sweat falling down her neck. In the late afternoon, the sun beat down on them. Even with the umbrellas above, Eva could feel her body fighting to keep itself cool. Standing, she pulled off her cover up.

“I’m getting in,” she declared, “I can’t take it any more.”

Connie laughed and stood with her, “I’ll go with you. Nice suit, by the way.”

Eva thanked her, returning the sentiment. Connie was wearing a canary yellow one piece, the thighs cut high to highlight her muscular thighs. She threw off her sunglasses and pulled her hair atop her head into a tight bun. Eva wished she’d thought to bring a hair tie. She’d never really been concerned about the way her hair curled in irregular little ringlets and waves before, but knowing that Horacio would be stopping by afterwards made her a little self conscious. With a little effort, she shrugged it off and darted out to the edge of the pool, jumping in.

The water was cool, a shock to her body as it enveloped her. Eva felt the air rush out of her lungs as she sunk beneath the surface. Her feet touched down and she kicked hard, breaching the water with a sharply indrawn breath.

Wiping the water from her eyes, she laughed at Connie, who had used the ladder to drop daintily into the pool.

“I haven’t done that since I was a kid,” she said, her cheeks hurting a bit with the force of her smile.

Connie nodded enthusiastically, “We had a pool, too. Above ground. Mom would make us wear pool floats the whole time we were in it.”

Eva shook her head, “I suppose there’s something to be said for safety. I was an only child, so my parents let me do whatever I wanted, mostly.”

“Are they still around?”

Eva swallowed, her eyes falling to the water she was swishing between her fingers, “No, they died a long time ago.”

“Oh, my God,” Connie gasped, “I’m sorry. How did it happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It was an accident,” Eva explained.

It was the same explanation that she’d given a million people before and would likely continue to give. A plane crash. No survivors. They were headed to a little resort that Josh had booked for their anniversary. Eva could still remember what her mother’s face had looked like when Josh handed her the tickets—excited and charmed. It turned her stomach.

Connie read her expression and approached slowly, arms pushing through the water, “Was it… was it because of your husband? Because of the things he did?”

Eva had been as honest as she could about the things that had occurred in her marriage, had told Connie about the way she learned to cover bruises, about how she used the work to give her purpose even though she knew it resulted in the destruction of people’s lives, about how he hurt her less when she did a good job.

“Yeah,” she croaked. “Um, I tried to run away—had a passport and some cash hidden. I can’t prove it, but I think he killed them to make a point.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Eva,” Connie breathed. “That’s horrifying.”

Eva blinked at Connie, trying to smile, “It was a long time ago. I’ve made my peace with it.”

“That’s not something you make peace with.”

She was right, Eva hadn’t made peace with it, not really. It had taken a long time for her to stop feeling guilty and to place the blame solely on Josh. It was part of the reason that she was able to kill him that night. She’d channeled all that rage into the fight, and she’d finally come out the victor.

“I got him back, though, didn’t I?” She said, chin lifting.

“Yes, you did.”

They swam for a while, until the food was done. Steve called out to them, a pair of tongs clapping together in one hand. They ate off paper plates, beers fresh from the cooler dripping condensation onto the cement below.

After wards, Eva laid back on the lounge, feeling sleepy. She kept a beer next to her, drinking from it lazily. One arm thrown over her head, she stretched her legs out long, enjoying the sun and relaxation. That’s how Horacio found her. Eyes closed, half shaded by the umbrella, suit drying out on her body. She heard him walk up and sit on the lounge next to hers.

Eva opened her eyes and smiled, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

She sat up, swinging her legs around so that she could face him, “You get everything done at work?”

He nodded, “Got some paperwork in the truck I need to finish. I parked at your place, I hope you don’t mind.”

“That’s no problem, you park there most of the time anyways.”

That was very much the truth. They hadn’t spent many nights away from one another, almost all of them at her place. Horacio told her that he liked her apartment better than his house because it was cozier. Eva could see why. She’d finally gotten to see his house, and it was sparsely decorated, indicative of a man who lived at work and only slept when he had to.

“Did you eat?” she asked.

Another nod, “Since its a Saturday, we order take out for the guys.”

Eva started to reach out to touch him, but the first two fingers of his right hand lifted quickly, stopping the motion.

“There are a lot of eyes here.”

Right. Although he hadn’t explained in detail, Javier had let it slip during a meeting that Carillo had a literal bounty on his head. In his fight against the rise of drugs in the country, he’d ruffled a lot of feathers. And, that made anyone associated with him vulnerable. When they were in public, he kept a distance between them and, outside of rare occasions, he didn’t touch her. The longer they were together, to more strict he became about it. Eva was still adjusting.

Eva pointed to the swim trunks he was wearing, “Did you go home to change or did you wear this to the office?”

Shooting her a sardonic look he asked, “What do you think?”

“I know, I know,” she replied, “God forbid you show up anything less than immaculate.”

It was probably the only point of contention between them. He always got up early to get dressed for the day. Eva argued constantly that he could go in one day without going through his entire routine, his coworkers wouldn’t notice. He argued back that he was supposed to be setting an example and that meant ironing his undershirt. She hadn’t yet managed to convince him to sleep in with her, his internal clock kicking in like….well, clockwork.

Now, though, he was wearing teal colored swim trunks and one of his more casual polo shirts. His hair was still combed back from his face, the curls tamed by the pomade he kept next to his aftershave on her bathroom counter. He’d taken a little extra time to shave that morning.

Eva gestured towards the cooler, “Go get yourself a beer. Relax for two seconds.”

She watched him as he rose and sauntered over to the little cooler by the grill, greeting the others along the way. Connie stepped over and sat next to her, leaning a little into Eva’s space.

She handed Eva a fresh beer, saying, “So… you guys are good?”

Eva nodded, “Yep.”

Connie stared at her.

“What?”

“You like him.”

Eva snorted, “Of course I like him. We literally discussed this a few days ago.”

“No, I mean you really like him,” Connie clarified, “You do this thing where the more you want something, the less you talk about it.”

Looking at her with a flustered expression, “What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?”

Connie took a swig from the bottle in her hand, “I don’t know, maybe admit that you like him more than you let on and you’re afraid that its going to self destruct because you’re both working dangerous jobs in a dangerous country where one or both of you could be killed and the pressure is a little too high for such a new relationship.” She took a deep breath, “And that scares the shit out of you.”

Eva’s mouth thinned as she regarded her friends, “Way to put it so succinctly.”

“Thank you.” A beat, “So, are you going to admit it?”

Eva glared.

Connie rolled her eyes, “Alright, don’t admit it. We both know its true.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eva glowered. Then, after taking just a moment to think about it, she said, “He thinks I’m going to become a target if they find out.”

She didn’t have to say who ‘they’ were. Connie knew, had married into it.

“That’s possible.”

“I don’t know how to prove that I’m not scared. Hell, I was on the other side of this fifteen years ago. I know the risks.”

Connie rolled a shoulder, resting her arms on her knees, her gaze following her husband as he told yet another wild story, “Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“Some thought,” Eva agreed.

“Sounds like you’re willing to take on those risks.”

“Some risks.”

“Sound like you just admitted you like him a lot.”

“Jesus, Connie,” Eva grumbled.

Flashing a smile at Eva, Connie cajoled, “Is it that hard to admit?”

“Given my last long standing relationship ended in literal murder, I would say I’ve got grounds to be cautious.”

Lifting a finger, Connie asserted firmly, “Cautious, not cowardly.”

She had a point. Eva kind of resented her for it.

They spent another hour or so talking among themselves, until the cooler ran out of beer.

“I bet that vodka’s good and cold,” Eva announced, heading for the gate. She didn’t bother with a towel or her cover up, already mostly dry from the sun.

Connie threw up her hands, “Yes! There’s orange juice in the fridge. And, another six pack.”

“I’ll help,” Carrillo offered, following Eva towards the door.

The sliding glass rumbled as she pulled it open, pushing through the vertical blinds to duck inside. The air conditioning hit her hard, goosebumps rising over her skin. She hissed a little bit, rubbing at her arms as she made her way across the kitchen to the fridge. Behind her, the heavy glass door slid closed.

Bare feet shuffling across the tile, Eva opened the fridge and found the six pack and orange juice, setting them on the counter beside her before pulling the vodka out of the freezer. It was definitely cold enough, the bottle immediately frosting despite the cool air.

“You know, there’s going to come a time when I’ll be able to out drink Connie, but today is not going to be that day,” she said with a smile.

Eva stood and ran abruptly into Horacio, who reached behind her to shut the freezer door, the other hand taking the bottle from her and setting it next to the orange juice and the beer. Without further preamble, he leaned down and kissed her hard. She squeaked a little, unprepared for it, before settling into the motion.

He pulled away, hands skimming her waist and hips, “I’ve been meaning to do that since I got here.”

Eva wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “I think we’ve discussed that you’re free to kiss me whenever you want.”

“Not always,” he replied, the implication heavy in his tone.

She gave a little bob of her head in understanding, “Still, offer’s on the table.”

“Noted,” he whispered before leaning down and kissing her again. Slower. Deeper. “Have I told you how much I like kissing you?”

Eva smiled as she ruffled the little hairs on the nape of his neck, “The feeling is mutual.”

Hands spanning her waist, he gazed down the length of her body, “Have I told you how much I like this suit.” His grip tightened the tiniest bit, “So much skin.”

At this, Eva’s smile morphed into an abashed laugh, “You’ve seen me in less.”

His brows quirked, mouth curving into an almost but not quite smile, “Usually, I can touch you.”

“You’re touching me now, Big Guy.”

She watched his lips as he pulled them in between his teeth, pressing lightly before letting go. He pulled her into him until they were pressed together, standing between the counter and the island that separated the kitchen from the living room. Little kisses trailed up her neck to her jaw, and finally to her mouth. Though his arms held her tight, his mouth was soft and gentle, tongue snaking out to taste.

The easiness of the kiss, the fact that they’d been apart for almost a day, the knowledge that once they stepped back outside she couldn’t touch him again until they were safely ensconced in her apartment made Eva greedy to have what she could, when she could. Despite the fact that he wasn’t doing much more than holding her, she felt the echo of arousal bloom in her belly. Lifting up onto her toes, she deepened the kiss, tilting her hips into him.

His response was...absolutely to be expected. Thigh pushing between her legs, he walked her back to the counter until it dug into her lower back. One hand came up to grip her damp hair, angling her head back so that he could press his face into her neck. Eva tried to roll her chin down to get at him again, but he held her still.

Dark eyes looked up at her from beneath his lashes, “As soon as we get back to your apartment.”

It took her maybe half a second to process his meaning, and then she was giving a quick jerk of her head. He breathed deeply, taking in her scent, before stepping away. Shoulders tense, he picked up the orange juice and six pack and gesturing towards the sliding glass doors.

With shaking hands, Eva grabbed the vodka, thankful for the freezing bottle. She pressed it to her belly, walking ahead of Horacio. By the pool, the group had gathered on the lounge chairs.

Eva held up the bottle as she approached, “I come bearing gifts!”

“Ah, Jesus,” Javier groaned, leaning over to stage whisper to Steve, “I don’t think I’m up for this.”

Connie rolled her eyes as she took to bottle from Eva, cracking it open, “Man up, Javier. This is a party.”

He reached into the pocket of his jacket, hanging from the back of the chair, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, “All your parties end in fights.”

“Excuse me,” Connie retorted, offended, “One party ended in a fight, thank you very much.”

Eva frowned, “Is this the bar fight, gun fight?”

Beside Connie, Steve dropped his head into his palm, shaking it. Javier took a drag and blew out the smoke. Connie glared.

“So, here’s what happened,” Javier said, making room for Carrillo to sit by him. “We’re at a work thing, schmoozing with the big wigs in the department. Usual stuff. One guy gets a little drunk and makes a pass at Connie, who proceeds to grab his hand and break it.”

“Sprain it,” Connie cut in. “I sprained it. Barely.”

Javier scoffed, “Anyways, the guy happens to be a major player for this political group who gave us money. They don’t give us money anymore.”

Connie handed Eva a cup—vodka and orange juice, “What was I supposed to do? Let the guy grab my ass in a room full of people.”

Eva thought about it, “I agree with Connie. Break his fucking hand.”

“Thank you,” Connie said, touching Eva’s arm in solidarity.

“One thing I don’t understand,” Eva said, crossing one leg over the other, “How is that a fight?”

Javier’s brows lifted as he recalled, “Oh, right. Steve got in the guy’s face.”

Eva made a sound of disbelief, “Alright, no. This wasn’t Connie’s fault, Steve’s the one who escalated things.”

“What was I supposed to do?” he echoed Connie’s sentiment.

She shrugged, “I’m not the best person to answer that question.”

Three pairs of eyes crept over to Carrillo, who was already shaking his head, “I probably would have done the same.”

Eva had to take a deep drink from her cup to cover the expression unfolding on her face. She couldn’t help the image of him pushing into someone’s space, a threat spoken lowly. His thick frame blocking any hope of escape. Eva thought she’d like to see that someday.

“That’s not the point,” Javier cut in.

“What is the point?” Connie asked.

“That your parties end in fights.”

“One party—not even my party.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Eva blurted, setting down her cup. She grabbed Connie’s hand, “Let’s go.”

Tugging the woman along, Eva hauled ass towards the pool tumbling headfirst into the water. She heard a second splash nearby, and she smiled beneath water as she kicked to the surface. Breaching, Eva pushed her hair back from her face, her eyes going wide as she caught a body flying over her, sending a wave of water over her. She ducked under, hearing a third splash.

Coming up laughing, she spotted both Javier and Steve swimming away, Connie following not far behind, shouting. She looked up, smiling at Carrillo, who was popping to top off a beer.

“You gonna join us?”

He looked dubious.

“Oh, don’t tell me you can’t swim,” Eva wheedled before ducking down and pushing off the edge of the pool to shoot out towards the center.

She popped up next to Javier, dodging Connie as she pushed him under. Tiptoeing around Steve, Eva put a little distance between them, her wide smile dropping as she looked down to the other side. Carrillo had set down his beer and was walking towards the pool, tugging off his polo. She would never, ever get used to it. Eva had spent many nights holding onto those shoulders, feeling him move between her thighs, and she was still struck dumb. He caught her eye, and though his expression didn’t change, she could tell that he was gloating. With sure movements, he gave a little bounce and then his arms swung forward as he executed a seamless dive into the pool.

Righting herself, Eva leaned against the wall of the pool, flicking water at Connie, who swam up beside her.

“Please tell me you…”

“Yeah.”

“And its…”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Eva confirmed with a long sigh.

They relaxed in the water as the sun started it descent towards the horizon. Eva held her position against the wall, talking with Connie and trying like hell to keep her eyes and her hands off Horacio. It seemed all too easy for him to act casually—a little sarcasm here, a little small talk there. She envied that ability. Her body, already attuned to him, seemed constantly on edge. Anticipation simmering under her skin to the point that she was surprised the water around her wasn’t gently steaming.

Too soon, a couple men in uniforms approached the gate, yelling out towards them. Connie grumbled and loudly announced that their time was at an end. They were, evidently, being forced out. After gathering the cooler and towels, they headed inside.

The phone was ringing, pausing the conversation for a moment. Steve answered it, speaking for a few minutes, then hanging it up. He looked annoyed.

“Well, looks like we’re heading into the office tomorrow.”

Connie scowled, “Its a Sunday.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve replied with a shake of his head, “We’ve got a meeting. You too, Carrillo.”

Beside her, Carrillo put his hands on his hips, “They tell you want its about?”

“Nope, just said we report in at eight.”

Eva pushed her wet hair back from her face then pulled her cover up over her body despite the fact that her suit was still pretty wet, “They say anything about me coming in?”

Steve opened the cooler and popped the top off another beer, “No. I think its just us three.”

She nodded. Highly classified meeting, then. She didn’t want to admit that she felt left out, so she shrugged and said, “Alright. I’m going to head home. Thank you for having me over, Connie.”

Connie hugged her, “Thanks for coming over and saving me from hearing more about office politics.”

They said their goodbyes and Eva headed out into the night, stars just beginning to shine above her. A little tipsy, she strolled along leisurely, not surprised when Carrillo followed.

“That was really fun,” she said when he moved up beside her, keeping pace.

He made a noncommittal sound, his gaze focused in front of them.

“When was the last time you actually spent a weekend afternoon not attached to your desk doing paperwork?”

Or, attached to her kitchen island, or the little dining room table in the nook of his house. More often than not, he brought files home with him. Eva had seen him sign his name so many times she could have probably forged it by now.

Lifting a shoulder, he replied, “Its been a long time.”

Eva scratched at the skin above her brow, a little unsure of herself, “You should do things for fun more often.”

He looked at her, “I assume you have ideas.”

“I might,” she said coyly, spinning to walk backwards in front of him, “There’s apparently some beautiful scenery, here. We could go hiking.”

His brows lifted and she could see a ghost of a smile, “We could do that.”

“Alright, its decided, then. We’ll go hiking when you get some time off.”

Eva knew that it was a long shot that he’d have more than a day off at a time, if past history was anything to go by. Still, it was nice to make plans, ambiguous as the timing may be. She hadn’t ever made plans like this before, and the prospect made her warm inside.

Keying into her apartment, Eva left the door open for him to come in. She started to say something innocuous about being home again, but she was cut off. Horacio grabbed her by the arm, pulling her into his body and kissed her. She gave a stilted gasp, arms coming up to rest on his biceps.

Hands traveling down her body, he scrunched the fabric of her cover up in his palms, pulling it up and over her head. When he slipped the pads of his fingers down into her suit bottoms, Eva stepped back, pulling him along with her.

“I have to get this chlorine out of my hair,” she explained, pacing backwards towards the bathroom, “You want to join me?”

Fire sparked in his eyes, his steps guiding her back and into her bedroom, rounding the corner and pushing her into the bathroom. As she moved to turn on the taps, he pulled at the ties of her top, throwing the fabric to the floor. After doing the same with her bottoms, he yanked her back into his chest, one hand tracing down her stomach in a confident caress.

He cupped her mound, fingers sliding through her folds and pressing firmly. Eva swallowed back a moan, head tipped back as he kissed along her shoulder down to her collarbone. Steam began to fill the room, heat wafting from the shower. She reluctantly pulled away, tugging off his shirt and swim trunks and stepping into the spray.

Eva half expected that he would push her against the tile and fuck her against it. His touch was impatient in a way that was new and shot heat straight into her core. She was, however, surprised to find that he reached down and grabbed her shampoo, lathering it through her strands thoroughly. He crowded her under the water, tilting her head around to rinse the suds away. She watched him grab a loofah and pour some body wash on it, her skin sizzling with anticipation.

Long, careful strokes swept the pool water from her body. She could feel the arousal that was always at a low simmer ramping up even though his touch wasn’t remotely sexual. Unable to help herself, she pressed a kiss to his sternum, resting her forehead against his chest. He sighed, his arms wrapping around her.

Wanting to return the favor, Eva reached back and took the loofah from him, running it over his broad chest, his stomach, his thighs. Though his erection bobbed up between them, she avoided it for the moment. Switching sides with him, she let the water fall over his body, her hands pushing the soap down towards the tub.

Dropping the loofah, Eva grabbed the shampoo and poured just a little into her hand, arms lifting to gently scrub it through his curls, finally free of the pomade he regularly combed through it. Using her nails, she lightly scratched at his scalp, smiling when his eyes closed in pleasure. Tilting his head back, Eva rinsed the shampoo from his hair, hands tracing down his face and neck.

Leaning down, Horacio’s lips found hers, his tongue darting out to taste. The water falling over his back sluiced down to run between her breasts and down her stomach. Eva pressed against him rolling her hips invitingly.

He broke the kiss with a moan, one hand grabbing her ass. Eva knew that, if she didn’t act quickly, he’d slot his fingers inside her and she would cease to be able to think, let alone respond. The omega in her loved that he was taking care of her, reveled in it, even. But the omega in her also wanted to make him want her just as much as she wanted him, wanted him feeling wild with it.

Lightly, so as to not give herself away, Eva traced down his chest, palm turning so that she could grasp him in her hand. He rested his forehead against her temple, mouth open, breath stuttering. She pumped him slowly, but firmly, wrist twisting at the top.

When the hand holding her hip started to dip down towards her center, Eva stopped him, holding him by the wrist. She kissed him, teeth catching at his lower lip. The wrist in her palm flexed as he tried to pull free. Eva shook her head, stroking him just a little faster. He groaned, pushing his thigh between hers, using the hand on her ass as leverage to drag her clit against him.

He breathed her name, the sound of it loud against the tiled walls. Eva felt her chest swell at the strain in his tone, power building with every choked moan, every sigh. She watched him lick his lips, her gaze dropping to his cock. He was hard, pulsing, his hips tilting towards her. It was a sight that she knew would always be with her, a feverish memory locked intimately with his scent.

As she contemplated dropping to her knees, the water began to turn cold. Eva laughed as he hissed, spinning to turn off the faucet. When he looked at her, Eva’s laughed faded, blood rushing in her ears at the intensity of his expression. He ushered her out of the tub, hands pushing her forward. Impatient, he hauled her up and over his shoulder, walking quickly to the bed.

He tossed her down, her body bouncing with the force. Eva watched him crawl over her, the muscles of his body flexing with every motion. More deep, intense kisses followed, his hands arranging her beneath him. When she reached for him, he swatted her away, lifting to his knees. Balanced over her, Horacio opened the nightstand to grab a condom.

When he paused, brows together, Eva asked him what was wrong, her voice a hoarse rasp.

His eyes closed, his chin dropping to his chest, “We’re out.”

She squinted up at him, “Out?”

“Of condoms, we’re out.”

That was impossible. She’d gone out and bought some maybe two days ago, they couldn’t possibly…Her brain very eagerly explained that they had been having a lot of sex. Eva tried to suppress it, but the giggle burst forth, her hands coming up to cover her face.

Horacio looked down at her, mouth half smiling, “I’m glad you’re amused.”

Affectionately, Eva pulled him down to her, rolling them to their sides, “C’mere.”

Her name was a warning as it passed his lips, but she shut him up with a kiss. Stroking along his skin, Eva kept kissing him until he relaxed against her, big body falling deep into the mattress. Arms wrapping around her, he rolled to his back, pulling one of her legs over his thigh. Hands on her hips, he encouraged her to move on him.

Eva couldn’t get close enough, her hands falling to his shoulders, using them to help her get friction on her clit. She ground down on him, her slick coating his skin and easing the movement. Still, she couldn’t quite get there. Her arousal burned through her, soaking into her very bones, but she couldn’t make herself come.

Sweat beaded on her temples, her muscles burning. She bit down on her lip, eyes closed. It wasn’t going to work, not when she could feel him pressed against her hip. Not when all she wanted was to be stuffed so full of him that she could barely move.

Shifting, Eva wavered over his body, weight on her palms as she kissed him, licking into his mouth. Moving determinedly, she opened her hips and swung her leg up and over, straddling him. The first contact seared through her, and her body screamed out that this was much better. She rocked against him, hands falling to his chest for balance.

“Yes,” he breathed, urging her faster, hands pulling at her hips, her thighs, “Like that, just like that.”

Eva picked up the rhythm he was guiding her to, her body working to get off. This was so, so much better, but she still couldn’t get there. She felt on fire from it, a whimpering, desperate mess. The orgasm was so fucking close, but not even his thumb circling over her clit was pushing her over the edge.

He pulled her down, sandwiching his cock between them, hips arching towards her. Horacio planted kiss after kiss over her neck, her chest, her jawline, her mouth. Little yearning growls sounded in the space between them. Eva pulled her knees beneath her, letting her hips open so that she could rub as much of her pussy against him as she could.

Every upward thrust brushed against her clit, every twist of her hips, coated him from root to tip. The pace picked up, and Eva’s eyes rolled back when their bodies aligned perfectly so that the head breached her just a little, sliding in then out and along the length of her folds.

Eva moaned his name, her nails digging into his shoulders. Beneath her, Horacio groaned long and low, eyes squeezed shut. Suddenly, he rolled her over, most of his weight falling atop her. His hands held her to the mattress so that he could grind down on her. Even though she could barely breathe, Eva let out a pleased gasp. The force of his body pushing against her, the way he buried his face in her neck, arms holding her tight, all of it pushed her pleasure higher.

“So good, so good,” she chanted, hands in his hair.

Lifting a little, he looked down between them, his cock pushing up through her her folds, wet and swollen. Hips fluid, he grabbed her ass in one hand, pulling her to him. Eva braced her feet on the mattress, shifting beneath him to get that feeling of him opening her up just a bit. It was almost enough, that tiny breach followed by a hard drag across her clit.

Giving a frustrated grunt, he dropped onto an elbow, catching her chin and forcing her to look at him, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you have to stop trying to fuck me, Eva.”

She whined, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, “I can’t help it. I want it. Please, Horacio.” She stole a kiss, “Feels so good with you inside me. Love when you fuck me.”

Against her, he pulsed, hips jerking. He blinked down at her, jaw unhinged. Deep breaths, grip tight, “Evangeline. Listen...listen. I’m gonna.” The thought alone seemed to spur him on, movements snapping against her, “I’m gonna… you need to listen. When I tell you, you need to let me pull out.”

Eager, she nodded, taking another kiss as he lined himself up and pushed inside. This, this was what she needed. Fuck, but he felt bigger than he ever had, the stretch tight. Eva arched, pushing her breasts into his chest, neck exposed for him to mouth along. Her body clenched so tight he couldn’t get more than an inch or two inside.

“Fuck, Eva. You have to let me in.” The words were half growled against her neck, teeth pressed against her skin.

She bit down on her response, “I’m trying.”

He pulled back, another thrust stunted by the squeeze of her cunt. His fists clenched beside her head, a wordless groan sounding.

“Try harder.”

Eva breathed deeply, trying to form coherent thoughts, “Maybe if you, if I...if you let me on top.”

He shook his head hard, “No. No—feels too good when you ride me.”

A laughed bubbled up, Eva cupped his face, catching his eyes, “Its supposed to feel good.”

“Too good. Come too fast,” he breathed, then, “How are you still so fucking tight?”

He still hadn’t bottomed out inside her, and Eva’s desperation grew every time he pulled out and pushed in again. She wanted him deeper, harder, wanted him to hold her down and leave bruises in his wake. In between breaths a plan formed. Eva reached down and grasped his hips for purchase, pulling him down as she rotated her hips up. Yes, yes! The feeling spanned electric down her spine.

With a curse, he snagged her hands, yanking them above her head, her name a warning on his lips. She arched her back, her hips working against him, moving on him from below. Ignoring a second warning, Eva rolled her hips as best she could, taking him further and further. He’d stilled above her, eyes watching as she moved.

His hands gripped her tighter, voice rough, “Look at you.”

She kept throwing her hips up until she’d worked him all the way inside, the feeling short circuiting any ability to think beyond the ‘more, more more’ that chanted in her head.

“There you go,” he praised, “Take what you need. Take it from me.”

The snap of his hips resumed, shoving his cock inside her and hitting every pleasurable spot she had. Eva felt a sharp, high pitched gasp rush out of her. Words fell from her lips, encouraging him, telling him how good it felt, how much she needed him, nonsense syllables rising along with the orgasm that fairly exploded outward from her center, her muscles locking down on him from the inside.

He rode her through as much of it as he could before he pulled away, reaching down to stroke himself—fast, hard pumps until he was spilling over her lower stomach. Still breathing hard, Eva leaned up and wiped the sweat from his brow, kissing his cheek softly. His come dripped over her mound, falling down over her lips. He watched it with dark eyes, jaw tight.

With one hand, he pushed her back to the mattress, the other threw a leg over his shoulder as he moved down the bed, mouth on her before she could draw her next breath. Eva might have had the capacity to be embarrassed by the sounds coming out of her, the choked, half screamed moans, but her body was already skyrocketing towards another orgasm. What pushed her over the edge was the sight of his hand, resting on her pelvic bone, sliding upwards to drag his come over her skin, his eyes watching her face. She threw back her head, cunt clenching down hard enough that her vision blacked out momentarily.

For a long time, she could only stare at the ceiling as she tried to catch her breath. She felt him move, heard his footsteps, sighed at the warm cloth he dragged over her sensitive skin so tenderly. He threw the cloth towards the bathroom, gathering her in his arms. She fell asleep to the feeling of him kissing her shoulder softly.

#narcos #horacio carrillo #carrillo #A Need So Great

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press-x-tojason · 3 years

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Giant Bomb is dead, and I care way less than I thought I would. Probably because 83% of the people who I ever cared about had already left or died, or were already relegated to reduced content roles.

Honestly, though, the writing’s been on the wall for a bit. They haven’t had anything worthy of paying for premium in several years, and, even though they’ve had well over a year to figure out a plan for the COVID era, they maybe made it a month with their plans to have a series of streams daily. I actually managed to forget I followed them on Twitch at all, for about 4 months, because they only streamed the podcasts and the occasional former Harmonix employee (who was literally paid to make content with their games while employed at Giant Bomb, which was funny because he blocked me on Twitter for making a post, addressing no one, back in 2014, which was asking about the legitimacy of the leaked list of “games “””””journalists”””””” who had taken money from publishers for positive reviews, a list which included him and multiple then-coworkers. I didn’t follow him, he didn’t follow me. He was manually searching the keywords, because he was, and is, a prick.) solo Rock Band stream in the last 8 months or so. Even when Jeff would manage to do one of his 20 streams from home a year, it would be on his own channel. There was just no content. And they’re surprised their “pay for our unique premium content!” model failed. They always “feigned” anger at Dan for “making” them do the Mario Party Parties, and literally never promoted his and Drew’s Metal Gear series after the first game... but I bet that, when only those, UPF, and the ad-free versions of the podcasts were premium features, those two series were keeping them afloat. Well, that and the remaining goodwill they miraculously managed to hold onto for a few years after Ryan died. Shit, I follow several people who are GB staff-adjacent, and... I can’t think of the last time they mentioned anything that happened on-site. Even the people who’ve been directly supporting them for over 10 years were out.

But yeah, the site is super dead. They pretended in the announcements like they’re going to make a go of it still, but... you’ve got like 4 content people left, and the only one people give a shit about is Jeff. You just saw 3/4 of the side of the site that was still trying these past several months jump ship in a 3 month span. One of those was, by nearly any definition, a founding member. Of which you had already lost one, and are losing another from the main side. Jeff’s been way less active until the last week or two, probably because he heard they were leaving and was like “oops, should probably check on the ship that’s been sinking for years!” Then you have Jason “The Human Mumble” Oestricher, the charisma vacuum, whose legitimate public-facing reaction to first hearing that all but one of his GB predecessors were going to be gone. was, and I quote, “Hoo Boy.” Ben and Jan are the definition of “fine”. They would have been great, as they are today, as secondary members 8-10 years ago. But carry the site, they cannot. They’re down to, what, 5 named members now? It hasn’t been that dire since the beginning of 2009, before they hired Drew, when they hadn’t even started the P4 endurance run. You know, that surprise massive, internet-changing thing that essentially popularized the Let’s Play concept, loosening its definition and making it something that could be as personality-driven as game-driven, made simply to give them something to put on the website, beyond the rare review and, slightly later, quick look. This kinda illustrates the problem with modern Giant Bomb. When they were figuring shit out, flying by the seats of their pants, they came up with great shit, and they gave enough of a shit to make it happen. 0.000% chance they do a 10 hour Thanksgiving Kinect stream if the Kinect was new today. 0.000% chance the core members would have done an endurance run in the last 10 years if CT and Shenmue (which I haven’t watched) weren’t driven by the younger members. And you could see it in the fact that they never made a real, true mobile app. The number one thing that would have made them indispensable this past decade, an app to integrate premium features, the podcast, their video player, etc. all in one place in a mobile-friendly package, that could sync with the website... and they never even raised the idea publicly. I wonder how much of the innovation was the group think-tank of the first 5 years. Beyond Dan’s couple major contributions, I don’t think they added a single new type of content after 2012, which... still means the last 6.5 years lacked any semblance of innovation. I guess that’s a big part of why I fell off tremendously quickly after late 2014. There was just nothing new, and believe me, I was looking. I wanted reasons to stay watching. I supported them with my dollar. I believed in those brave early days. And I went back yesterday to watch the DP endurance run from VJ again. I still miss that rapport. And really, that hurt, too. Vinny moving back east, less than a year after Ryan passed... short term, it was fine. You had more people than ever to cover the gaps. But the spark was gone. The chemistry made the site. When I think of Giant Bomb, I still think of Jeff, Vinny, and Ryan, first and foremost. Those early podcasts, the NintenDownloads, the crazy tangents that everyone could seamlessly follow up on(well, except Brad, because he essentially slept through most of the podcasts, unless he was talking about the thing he did that week), the weird high-concept GOTY stuff... it wasn’t perfect, but you were entertained. You laughed. You were engaged. It never felt like you were watching them working, even though you could see the work they put in. It felt like, when they released something, you were experiencing a group of legitimate friends doing what they wanted to do anyways.(And boy have I seen enough groups do everything they can to NOT be enjoying doing that, and break up as a result due to hating the jobs that they chose to do).

Part of me would love to make it as simple as “Ryan died, and so did the original spirit”, and... to a degree, it’s true. If you go back to any retrospective they’ve done about the founding of the site, or the podcast they recorded after Ryan passed, you can’t help but recognize that Giant Bomb never happens if these core members don’t all quit their jobs, led by Ryan, because they respect their boss/manager, Jeff, and know he’s doing the right things(for them, for the reader/viewer, etc.) ahead of what GameSpot management wants him to do. Jeff could have been left in the wilderness, trying find a spot elsewhere, with the rumor going around between executives that Jeff wasn’t going to help them promote anything, essentially killing their revenue. He would have been done in terms of getting employed by a major site. But Ryan first, and soon after, Vinny and Brad, gave up their jobs to make this fledgling little project go. As much as the ERs brought me in and gave the impression that Jeff and Vinny were the long-standing duo, no, it was Ryan who was Jeff’s partner in crime. And, 8 years later, I can comfortably say... Giant Bomb never recovered from losing him.

But it was so much more. Everything that set them apart slowly went away, in time. I don’t think they’ve posted reviews for games in consecutive MONTHS since 2017; 2018 at the latest. They have done one Endurance Run in 9 years. They have not had a meaningful live event in 6 years. Unprofessional Fridays were more formulaic and lesser in volume and frequency after the major players started moving east. The lack of coordination between coasts killed the camaraderie, to the point that I think one of the last 5 true gameplay crossovers was their series of 2016-2017 PUBG shitfests. I remember when Vinny starting GBEast was supposed to be the start of a new era of content, and... it was, but not in a positive way, like it sounded. When half of each side seemed to constantly have no interest in making anything, nothing got made. But I guess that’s what happens when your second in command in one of your headquarters is just a former marketing grunt with an attitude problem, and the guy with the biggest ego on the team is the one who refuses to move to join either side, and just pushes out the most self-important drivel as a header to what were literally just copy-pasted articles from other sites every week while sitting at his desk, dreaming of the days Gawker would pay him to plagiarize political drivel instead, because that’s what really gets the soulless clicks. One of your founding members becomes depressed due to losing his two closest work friends, one for real, one to a 3000 mile separation, within a year, while the other one who is left virtually stopped playing anything but DOTA 2 for 2 years. Suddenly your most prominent personalities are the 2 new guys(one the aforementioned charisma vacuum, the other a walking mark) and your previously-mostly-off-camera producer who is best known to the wider Internet for... blinking. So, yeah, lifeless. And NOW, all you’ve got is old melancholy dad, charisma vacuum dad, and the two ADHD kids whose defining trait is that they choose to exclusively refer to their partners as “my partner” in voices that make it sound like they are embarrassed to have partners, while also talking more about what their partners are doing than what they do. It’s confounding.

But yeah, TL:DR: RIP zombie Giant Bomb. Glad you’re finally getting taken behind the shed. It took 3 years too long, minimum.

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rigelmejo · 3 years

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Found this tool for “how long to learn a language” and I think its fairly useful?

https://autolingual.com/study-time-calculator/#hmotivation

Below is just me contemplating how long things took me, will take etc. Feel free to ignore lol.

I just tested it by putting in “absolute beginner” to low intermediate, and how long that would take for mandarin at 2 hours study per day, it gave me 1 year 10 months. That isn’t too far off of how long its taken. I’d say I’m around low intermediate - maybe upper beginner. Certainly what I consider possible at low intermediate for me personally (what I could do in french in reading, when i stopped studying it) is close to where I am now with chinese. So like: convos about basic topics, maybe a little word lookup, reading general gist of everything (and dictionary for specifics if needed), general show watching without subs (miss some details), some audio listening (for me french never got any listening or show stuff so that parts much better in chinese - though my french reading is a bit easier since i can generally get away with no dictionary even if there’s a lot of unknown words just because of word similarity to stuff i can figure out). So anyway the calculator’s estimate of 1 year 10 months is pretty close! It’s been 1 year 8 months since I started studying. It will probably be a few more months when I feel I’m happy with my ‘basic’ reading ability.

When I put in “very high motivation” it put me at 1 year 7 months to go from absolute beginner to lower intermediate - which is super close to about how fast I progressed. I’d say I’m probably somewhere on this calculator’s estimate between “very high motivation” and “high motivation.”

For absolute beginner to upper beginner, it put me at 10 months for how long it would take if I had “high motivation.” That also lands pretty close to how long it took me - it took me about 8-12 months to do ‘upper beginner’ stuff as I consider it (texting people in chinese for general convos, browsing weibo, reading stuff i wanted with a dictionary, reading manhua, starting to watch shows without subs and just get the bare minimum gist and look up words for more details). The calculator guessed I would take 9 months from absolute beginner to upper beginner if I had “very high motivation,” which again I suppose is close to where I was at lol.

This calculator thinks from absolute beginner, to upper intermediate (B2) will take me 2 years 6 months if I have very high motivation, and 3 years if I have high motivation. That makes sense to me. Moderate motivation would be 3 years, 9 months. Low motivation would be 4 years 6 months. This was all at 2 hours a day of study overall. I figured it would take me 4 years roughly to get to where I wanted to be when I started - although I figured 4 years would be “where I am right now skill wise” so lol. What will upper intermediate even look like?

5 years, 6 months, if I have very high motivation but only 1 hour study time a day.

I also tried out if I put “have learned a language to fluency” and that lined up better with how long it actually took me to hit each milestone as I felt it? (8 months upper beginner, 1 year 4 months to hit lower intermediate?). And if this is the option I put in, then upper intermediate would be achieved around 2 years 2 months into studying (aka for me that would mean around this coming winter). Also - this would not include listening/speaking skills, for me, because I already know hands down those skills lag for me (they probably would not be whatever level my reading is, instead a bit under it). And writing would depend on how much I worked on it. So I’m mainly aiming for the reading goals timeline.

What is interesting to me is based on this I probably have been studying roughly 2 hours a day overall? I am fairly sure I study at least 1/2 to 1 hour a day (I read almost every day in chinese if nothing else). Then some days I know I’ll watch some eps of a show (thats 2-4 hours probably), some days I’ll read a lot (2 hours?). So like I figure my days I do a lot add up? And apparently they must, since my progress seems like I’m doing about 2 hours a day according to this caclulator. Or else my study sessions are ‘really’ effective for me and 1 hour i can make as useful as 2, but i doubt it... although it could be likely, its more like ‘since i’m mainly focused on reading THAT is improving at this speed, but if i looked at ‘overall’ then i’d still be an upper beginner who studied maybe 1 hour a day (as in, taking in all skills i’d be upper beginner, but taking in only reading i’m higher). Which could definitely be the case, as i don’t think my listening is past upper beginner, and my writing/speaking is definitely upper beginner At Best (could easily also be worse lol).

Anyway a point for myself: looks like if i vary study from 1-2 hours a day, its going to take between 9 months to 2 years to hit upper intermediate. Which is the goal - i think after that my reading will be plenty good for what I want to do without a dictionary. So 3-4 years total study time, which is about what i expected... except i expected year 4 was going to feel like what i can do now ToT so anyway. Follow your dreams! Passions! Goals! you know what i mean! ToT I did not think reading with a dictionary could be possible so quickly in chinese! Certainly not within a year, but it did happen by a year! And I’m starting to venture into reading real stuff without a dictionary more, so that’s also doable much earlier than the 4 years I expected!

---

For fun I put the other languages I ‘studied’ a bit of in the calculator.

The suggested french timeline matched up pretty well to my own progress when I put in: very high motivation (i guess i must have that lol?), some knowledge of different languages, study 1 hour a day. I hit A2 around 6 months in, B1 around 1 year 2 months is what the calculator says (I remember it being around 1 year into studying), B2 around 1 year 10 months the calculator gives.. I think personally around B1 in french I got less motivated, and i know i stopped studying as often... and i think somewhere mid B1-B2 I quit studying and just coasted on what i knew, since it was enough to read what i wanted. So I personally remember, about 2 years into studying french, that’s when I gave up using a dictionary or formally studying at all for the most part (years 1-2 i read a grammar site in french, which helped, and was still occasionally looking up words in french and reading french weekly). So I think at 2 years i didn’t actually hit B2, just a personal point where somewhere mid B1-B2 I felt i no longer had a need of a dictionary, or grammar explanations, for what i wanted to do. I know at some point after year 2 I picked up french again and just worked on listening/pronunciation (to try and drag them up closer to my reading skill) for a couple months. Idk how much it helped, but i know it noticeably improved my accent (which went from Really Bad to Somewhat Bearable, and my listening skills went from ‘can’t understand anything’ to ‘basic words i know i can now recognize fairly easily in listening, and i can now HEAR the real bad spots in my own accent and fix them at least’). So like... I’d personally put my french as somewhere in B1 mostly comfortable, with a lot of room for improvement. With writing at A2 maybe (with grammar mistakes), speaking also around there, listening if I’m lucky also around there. I do like that if i DID want to improve my french skills to all B2, it says 8 months to 1 year (depending on if i’m starting from A2 like my speaking or B1 like my reading), studying 1 hour a day on average. That’s about what I expected - that it would take a while but not too long to push them all up to more useful.

With japanese, putting it into the calculator? Looks like maybe I only studied 30 minutes a day on average? The calculator estimates upper beginner to take 2 years 3 months, if that’s how much per day I studied. That or 45 minutes a day - 1 year and 10 months. I know in reality, It took me about 2+ years in japanese to get to reading basic manga for main gist, playing games for very basic main gist understanding which I did sometime between 2 years and 2.5 years. I did not get past upper beginner, at BEST, because I know I was still a beginner. So maybe that’s something that held me back? Just how little time I was dedicating to japanese? I know I was splitting time between french, japanese, and sometimes russian. So that could definitely have been it (also abandoning japanese sometimes for weeks at a time - which I did with french too, but french was already like B1 reading which was close to my goals with it so i didn’t need to focus on it as much). I also wonder how much the last study from year 2-2.5 helped speed things along - its when I noticed the most progress, and I was doing flashcards and immersing a LOT more. So its possible then I was studying closer to 2 hours a day.

Mmm. From this calculator, I’d guess: my chinese is on track to be able to do what I want by 3-4 years (much better than I expected lol). With a chance of me being able to do it by the end of this year (that would be amazing but lets not get too hopeful). As for speaking/writing, I do expect that to still take 3-4 years (and slower if I stop studying as much).

my french I can probably drag up the other skills, and maybe even drag reading up to B2, in about a year of work if I wanted. So the other skills I could probably drag up into B1 in several months. Aka around half a year if I wanted to just get them all similar, and probably a year if I wanted french GOOD as good as I’d probably want it for general use without issues (since i still have listening and production issues).

my japanese? i’m going to go ahead and guess 1 year for lower intermediate, 2 years for upper intermediate, IF my chinese gets good at the faster rate. aka if at the end of this year my chinese reading is where i want it, and i can switch from 30-45 minutes a day on japanese to 2 hours because chinese will no longer need to improve as fast. Since currently i’m spending an average of like 2 hours on chinese a day, and i do NOT plan to lower that until my reading and listening are where i’d like them and i can read/listen generally without a dictionary (like french, i’ll probably end up wanting to improve production randomly on an as desired basis so i don’t think that will be as big a priority unless for some reason it becomes one). So japanese will probably at most be getting 1 hour a day while i’m still focused on chinese (and realistically less like 30 minutes on average). But i might be able to give it more after this winter. although also it really depends on wtf i feel like doing? as always. if i do japanese ‘as desired’ who knows how many hours that will end up being. i do think though doing it as i want now will help make that time take less in the long run overall timeline of things. the calculator gives “2 years” to lower intermediate if i only study 45 minutes a day, and 4 years for upper intermediate in japanese if i only study 45 minutes on average a day. Which really isn’t so bad (that’d be like 4-6 years total of time i’ve spent studying it, to get where i’d like in japanese ultimately - 2 more years after the 2 i’ve already done on an optimistic timeline, and 4 more years if i go very slow and keep not being able to prioritize it... and somewhere in between there if i don’t prioritize it but at least find a sweet spot i can do what i want in it like french). 6 years to learn japanese is not surprising... especially considering it took me 2+ years to push into upper beginner “can do a little basic stuff” in the language. So 2 more ish years for each milestone step makes sense unless i get better at studying lol or dedicate more hours into it.

---

What’s curious to me is how chinese has been taking me about 6 months to hit each milestone (for reading)? 6 to get to beginner, 12ish to get to upper beginner, 18 ish months to lower intermediate (which is april, me rn), so possibly 22 months to upper intermediate - 1 year 10 months maybe? 8 more months of study, potentially. (Again this is for reading skills only).

I just... when I started I definitely did not thing progress could be made at this speed for chinese? But to be very fair... i spent less time on french, and i think that’s a big reason it took longer to hit milesones than it could have - and why ultimately french and chinese are much closer in terms of ‘how long it took me to make progress’ than japanese to either. Because french simply takes less study time, and chinese i just studied so much MORE per day than i did with japanese. I definitely think if nothing else that ADVICE to immerse often helped me so much. While its not as quality study time as when I go through tone drills, memorized 2000 words, read grammar, listening to my audio ‘flashcard’ files, or practice shadowing - it really MAKES me ‘study’ chinese regularly in a way i did not with french or japanese. Even though there’s less active study being done, i’m engaging with chinese every day because of it. Practicing every day, and practicing often. With french i practiced daily for maybe 1/2 hour to an hour, then for that long per week, and my active study i either did for a month or didn’t do at all - so less study time in general. In japanee i REALLY did less study time per day, since i didn’t even try to read/watch/listen to japanese - it was active study or nothing. Simply the advice to immerse... while yes it helps you with skills, like learning to comprehend what you’ve studied, more than that it simply keeps me ‘trying to learn’ on a more frequent basis.

Part of the reason I think year 2-2.5 of japanese i made the most progress i saw the fastest? I was trying to read manga every week, trying to play a game every couple weeks, listening to audio in the background every few days (audio flashcards), trying to do srs flashcards every few days. The last 2 activities were active study increases (though only 30-45 minutes a day overall so no more than usual). but the manga days - that would be a full extra 1-2 hours a day! The video game days, 2-4 extra hours that day! and those added up i think! and resulted in me seeing much faster progress than in the whole 0-2 first years combined. if only i’d been trying to do those things sooner, it could’ve been adding up sooner.

whenever i look back on my french, the period that helped most was month 3 to the year 1 mark - i was reading every few days. Yes, I also studied common words, took a beginner class and did my homework. But the reading regularly was time spent using french ADDING UP. It added up to a lot of extra time IN french, and i think that’s why about a year in i felt pretty comfy texting on basic topics, reading things i wanted to with a dictionary with ease. Then the year after, i did more intensive study, but with months in between where i did NOTHING in french - so i think i got to B1 with reading, or somewhere a bit past it, because i read french every few months for bursts (whenever i felt like it but not regularly). And instead of progress every few months, it took about another year to go ‘ok no more dictionary needed.’ If i’d still been engaging with french more days a week, i think it would’ve added up faster.

And when i started chinese, the big reason i TRIED ‘do a little something’ weekly in chinese is because i remembered in french i used to try, and that helped me so much at the beginning. and it DID help me so much at the beginning with chinese! it was a solid idea!

and, as much as i have some issues with aspects of massive immersion approach (now Refold), mainly just that i don’t do it all the same lol. i DO think i am SO happy i found it if ONLY for the advice it gave “immerse as much as possible, as little as you comprehend, start NOW.” That was good fucking advice. And it helped me not be such a chicken - i know i was scared, back when learning japanese, TO immerse at all because i thought i needed the basics understood before i even tried. With chinese - although i was trying reading (and it was honestly helping), i only tried once a month. And i was way too scared to try shows without english subs, or AUDIO.

Reading the mia advice, i went fuck it, and tried. it helped SO much. Literally, watching shows in chinese first to build up the endurance to SIT through a whole episode, then to watch multiple episodes in months 4-8, helped SO much. and i was way too scared to try until i’d read someone else tried and it helped. also people who did mia suggested audiobooks and dramas - again i was way too cowardly, thinking i’d know too little to manage it. And YET, once i started doing it more i noticed a lot of improvement! I know right now, i can watch shows and be comfortable because i made myself try it back then and keep trying. i know i was able to push into reading with a dictionary at month 6-8 because from month 3 i was trying and kept trying. i know i can listen to some audio dramas FOR FUN and even pick up some stuff, because i tried to listen to audiobooks of chapters i’d read in english and practiced parsing sound. (also Listening Reading helped a ton i can’t say that enough - it helps so much with listening skills). Trying to watch shows without ANY subs including chinese, also helped. And it really was the advice “try doing it all, and doing it often, it will help” that helped me improve. I cannot get myself to do formal study every day - and if i can, some days i can only do 15 minutes to 1 hour (and occasionally longer). but i CAN make myself do SOMETHING in chinese every day. And me being so lazy? It is in fact EASY for me to make myself do something in chinese if it doesn’t have to be study - reading a book? I’ll try. If i have it open in pleco, i’ll try and click words i don’t know. If its audio - yeah i’ll try listening while i walk or work. if its a show i wanna watch, yeah i’ll try watching even though there’s no english subs. if i see a manhua i like, yeah i’ll try to read it. if im on weibo, yeah i’ll browse. it is such a compatible way for me to DO more stuff in chinese, which helps me improve even if its not always as effective as study-time sessions. its always better than doing nothing, and wow does it make a difference how often i ‘study chinese’ if these moments of immersion count.

and i’ve been noticing already, how it helps in japanese too, now that i’m freaking applying the concept of “don’t be a chicken” lol. I’ve watched lets plays the past few months in japanese (yeah only 20 minutes at a time, but it will add up as i’ve learned from french and chinese). I tried playing games for 2 hours (brutal, but manageable, and who knows how much i learned in that time!). I watched a 2 hour play with no subtitles of any kind (again who knows how much i learned trying that!). I even tried reading a bit of japanese - a few 15 minute sessions probably. Again, this is all not a lot, but its like french - its MORE than just my dedicated japanese study time where i do flashcards or read my grammar books. its extra time spent, and i know it adds up. i am Already seeing it add up to making games even bearable to do (which took 2+ years last time!), to making WATCHING something with only japanese audio bearable to do (extremely hard, but bearable if i know the plot, which is a fucking FEAT i did not imagine i’d be able to do). it is adding up to making trying reading bearable to do with a dictionary. It is all these things that took 2 years to become bearable last time, made doable much sooner (if only to tolerate for now, but eventually to improve). the hours spent just trying to do things in the language DO add up.

so anyway advice for my future self is just: DO it. do stuff in the language now. i know you want to be prepared, but just start trying now and with anything you’re interested in even if you think its ‘too hard.’ it WILL add up and help you.

#rant #april #april progress #reference #resource

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gaystarwarsblog · 4 years

Text

Risking It All

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

(Sorry for the lateness! School has been a little stressful.)

When you wake in the morning, you’re alone. Mando stayed by your bedside, telling stories of his adventures until you fell asleep. You didn’t expect him to stay, you wouldn’t.

You pressed your fingers to your lips, feeling the phantom presence of Mando’s Beskar on your mouth. Last night was something of a breakthrough, you thought. Mando had expressed his feelings, and you reciprocated. As you dressed, you idly wondered what would come next in your relationship.

You walked through the ship, confused at the lack of noise. Climbing the ladder, your stomach dropped when you saw that the pram was gone, as was Mando himself. You rushed over to the control panel, and tapped until you found your location.

Nevarro.

Mando told you that Nevarro was the drop spot for the baby. Your eyes scanned the horizon, trying to find Mando. He had parked the Razor Crest amongst a horde of other ships. You didn’t see the shine of Mando’s helmet anywhere.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye to the baby.

Anger bubbled in your chest.

“Fuck,” you hissed.

Your first instinct was to run out there and find Mando, but you didn’t know where he was. Mando had been incredibly vague about the whole thing and now you knew why. He wanted to stop you. All you want to do was go out there.

Instead of barreling forward and getting your ass handed to you, you sat in your room and stewed. How could he do something like this? You thought he trusted you. No, he definitely trusted you. But Mando was the kind of guy to stick with his plans.

The back and forth in your brain didn’t make you feel better, and by the time Mando had arrived at the ship again, you were ready to blow up. You stomped out of your room to meet the man you (sort of) loved.

Your eyes trained immediately on his armor, shiny and new even in the dim light of the ship. You continued to rush forward, Mando’s arms feebly fending you off as you shoved him hard. Seeing him stumble made you feel the tiniest bit better.

“Is this what the baby cost you, asshole? A new set of armor? What the hell is the matter with you?!”

Mando’s shock was clear in his body language as he did nothing to even try and calm you down.

“You left me all alone in the ship for an entire day! You didn’t tell me where you were going or what you were doing!”

“So I’m supposed to tell you every damn thing now,” Mando snapped at you. His tone pierced your heart, but at the time, you were too angry to notice.

“No, of course not! I wouldn’t expect you to. But I care about your safety, Mando! Not knowing where you are with no way of contacting you or ensuring your safety in some way is worrying to me. I don’t just care about your safety, I care about you! I thought that last night proved that.”

The room was silent. This silence allowed you to hear a tracking fob beep.

“And you’ve already got another job,” you said bitterly.

“Honey, I- “

“Don’t, Mando.”

You backed away from him and went to your room. As you sat on the bed, your conversation really sunk in. It wasn’t healthy or mature to hold it in, but you would stay in here for a few hours, and then go out and apologize. You were mostly just upset that Mando left you in the dark, and you’d said things you didn’t mean.

The ship began to start up and you pressed a hand to your mouth, willing your tears not to overflow. You would never see the baby again.

When the ship didn’t take off, you grew confused. Your confusion only increased when the engine cut off. A knock at your door made you startle and you called a soft ‘come in’.

Mando stepped into the room with a bundle of clothes and several weapons.

“Let’s go get the child back.”

******

This was stupid. It was idiotic. How could Mando do something like this? Especially when you were along as well.

But looking at you, Mando admitted to himself that his heart skipped a beat. A scarf was wrapped around your head, your eyes the only thing showing, and your hands were stuffed deeply into your pocket to conceal the various items Mando had given to you. You were, quite frankly, a vision. Eyes sparkling and body language open.

“Don’t look so happy. This is a recon mission,” Mando murmured, his smile betraying his chastising.

“Oh stop. They suspect you less if you look happy.”

And they did. Somehow, despite your intense beauty, nobody looked in your direction. The infiltration of the building went without a problem, with you heading to try and find the baby while Mando held off the guards.

It was only a few seconds before you were in the room where the scientist had taken the baby. Mando had to guide you there, but once you saw the baby, you ran immediately to him and picked him up while the scientist cowered.

It seemed an eternity and yet only a few minutes until you were cornered in the bigger meeting room.

“Drop the asset,” a stormtrooper barked at you.

You crouched and Mando crouched with you.

“Duck your head when I say so.”

The baby was on the floor and the whistling birds up in the air. Mando watched as you hovered over the baby.

“Now,” Mando hissed, watching as you hit the floor and the whistling birds met their targets.

It was only moments when Mando pushed you into a side alley before the main road.

“I want you to take a different path to the ship. You know where it is.”

“And leave you in the middle of danger? I don’t think so! We’re in this together.”

“Now’s not the time to argue about it. Please just take a different route, and I’ll meet you at the ship with the child.”

He pressed the baby in your hands, the blanket still in his own. You caught on to his ruse immediately. Mando watched as you tucked the baby into your shirt and ran in the opposite direction from him, leaving a cloud of dust in your wake.

******

Once on the ship, you went straight for your room and hid the baby under your blankets. He had fallen asleep while in your shirt, despite the jolting movements.

You paced the length of your room, feeling like a caged animal. There would be no leaving this room until Mando made his way back to you, or someone else took you. You shuddered at the thought of somebody else’s hands on you. Then a different sort of shudder ran through your body at the thought of Mando’s hands on you.

It felt like an eternity until you heard the Razor Crest open its door and footsteps ran towards your room. You tensed, looking to the lump of blankets where the baby was. The door opened and Mando fell to his knees. You followed not long after, throwing your arms around him and crying with relief.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” you breathed.

“Have some faith in me, honey.”

His arms wrapped around you and you’d never felt something so lovely.

Taglist:

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#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #dyn jarren x reader #dyn jarren x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian imagine

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mocha-sim · 4 years

Text

For a while now I’ve wanted to write out a post concerning where I stand on the whole issue with YanSim and its developer (in short: neutral, leaning heavily towards the negative side, but I like the potential of the story and characters). There are a lot of problems and I really want to throw in my two cents

This might not be necessary, but I need to get it off my chest, and hopefully make some people think about other points of view

Warning: long post ahead

1. Six years and still in development

I can really see both sides here

On one hand, six full years without even one rival - the single most important part of the game - and a game still full of placeholder assets, and terrible code on top of that, is pathetic

On the other hand, Yandev is working with only a small team of volunteers and himself, who (no matter what he claims) knows very little about game development (from what i’ve seen, he’s made one before, but it looks like a very small-scale and basic fighting game, unlike YanSim which is much more large-scale and has a lot of features)

Professional game teams do have full, high-quality games made in less than six years, but that time is also a product of game company employees being extremely overworked. Lately I’ve seen a lot more people talking about this issue, which is good, but isn’t it hypocritical to not also apply that logic to Yandev?

Again, though, I’m not sure how much time he spends actually working on the game - to me, it seems like he spends a lot of time on discord, reddit, etc. even if he does only stream for a few hours every night. Maybe the “harassment” that’s “slowing down game development” wouldn’t be such an issue if he didn’t spend so much time online interacting with these people?

2. The writing and characters

I’m not a huge fan of how the game’s story is handled, either

I don’t think it’s 100% fair to cast a final judgement with the game the way it is now - Osana not being out is in no way a good thing, but it also means that there hasn’t really been any opportunity for story or character development yet, especially for the rivals. That being said:

I feel like there’s a lot of wasted potential with characters’ individual stories and with the game’s story as a whole, like the “Aishi curse” - I just can’t think of many good stories with a main character who’s basically an empty husk. If Ayano had emotions from the beginning, and actually had to struggle with them, she could be a much more interesting character. There doesn’t even need to be a magical curse for it to run in the family - the way children are raised has a serious impact on the person they grow into. If Ayano is raised by a crazy, abusive stalker of a mother, she may well turn into the same thing.

Taro, too - he has so many contradicting character traits. He yells at Ayano for “scaring him” when she’s carrying a box cutter or laughing, but has the courage to run right up to a murderer and take off their mask?? He doesn’t care about reputations for Osoro or Oka, but won’t love Ayano if her reputation drops too low?? We’re told that he’s “friendly and respectful”, but we’re never shown that part of his personality. On top of that, we’re not really given a reason to like or pursue him as the goal of the game - when he’s not interacting with Girl of the Week, he doesn’t really do anything except sit by the fountain and read. I feel as though Taro should have a routine that involves interacting with other characters and gives us more of a feel for the personality we’re told he’s supposed to have

Raibaru as a whole makes no sense and feels like a satellite character to Osana. In Osana’s shoes, I would want to have a word with her about personal space. There’s not a lot to say about her aside from that, because... she doesn’t really do anything except follow Osana around all day and shut down the player’s attempts to kill her. She feels more like a soulless obstacle than a character

I think there should be more true pacifist options than just matchmaking - even the befriending elimination route will, in Yandev’s own words, involve someone getting hurt. If we’re supposed to have a choice on whether or not to hurt and kill people, there should be more variety in our options

3. The game’s code sucks/it’s poorly-optimized

Yeah.

I don’t know much about coding but the amount of awkward stretching/bending limbs on corpses, clipping through walls, low fps, etc. makes this obvious. It was definitely a bad move on Yandev’s part to start a project like this without at least taking a coding/game development class or something

I think the best course of action for Yandev would be to get a professional programmer on board after Osana is released and spend a few months fixing the game’s code before he starts work on the next rival

4. The character models are just stolen Unity models

They are just unity models, but not “stolen” at all - YanDev paid for them.

That being said, they’re sort of ugly and inexpressive, and personally i’m hoping they get replaced soon

5. The characters are all minors

They’re not. It’s in flashing red letters on the screen when you open the game. I can’t help but feel like the reason people keep insisting that the characters are minors is so that they can feel like heroes for defending them or something

It doesn’t make a lot of logical sense, but there’s still plenty of time for this to be fixed. I think it was recently confirmed that Akademi is called an “academy” now and won’t be referred to as a high school again

Imo YanDev should just change it to a post-secondary school, since that’s probably the most seamless way for all the characters to be adults

One last thing I want to say on this is that, when it gets brought up, I often see people use the excuse “the age of consent in Japan is 13″. 1: it isn’t - the Japanese government lets each prefecture decide its own age of consent, but 13 is the minimum. As far as I know, no prefecture has set it below 16. 2: even if 13 was the age of consent, that doesn’t mean we should accept and defend it as “part of a different culture”. It’s still pedophilia. 3: Japanese people actively protest against things like this

6. The uniforms are middle-school uniforms/don’t look like they belong in a prestigious school

Yeah

However there are multiple uniform options, and it looks like the default uniforms will be completely changed in the final game

7. Panty shots

YanSim is an 18+ game, but there is such a thing as too far

I’ve seen people who tolerate it, but I haven’t seen a single person who actively likes the panty shots and would complain if they were removed. Imo the part that makes this bad is the fact that we, the player, actively have to point our camera up a girl’s skirt and take a photo of her underwear with it being in full view; the whole way this works makes it obvious that the feature was put in there for titillation more than anything else, and it just feels uncomfortable. If it were more like Uekiya’s key-stealing minigame where all we have to do is push a few buttons, the whole gross/uncomfortable aspect could be taken away and a lot of people would probably be fine with it

It would also be better to replace it with an expanded version of the phone-stealing feature: this would let the player get “points” for students of both genders, plus it would still make sense to gain more points for certain students, like the student council or the bullies. Maybe you could even steal teachers’ phones under certain circumstances?

8. YanDev is homophobic

Again not too sure on this one

Iirc, most of the comments people bring up on this are from years ago when he still went by EvaXephon

But speaking as a wlw, I think some of the ways I’ve seen him talk about f/f relationships are pretty creepy. And on top of that, he seems to be considering adding a “female senpai” option to the game, but no male player character? (though i guess i can see the point of view that a male mc would need a lot more new voice lines, animations, etc. while the senpai follows a mostly fixed routine and would only need so many. still, it seems wrong to have one without the other). I hope I’m wrong about this but his support of the LGBT community seems mostly focused on the L and more for his own entertainment than any actual support

9. YanDev is making more money than he should (and handles it poorly)

His Patreon may be dropping, but his YouTube channel is raking in even more money with 2M+ subscribers, and he’s making even more money from things like merch and donations... all while apparently still living with his parents (which i don’t find hard to believe). He’s also apparently bought 2 switches and a sex doll instead of using the money to hire the help he desperately needs with his game

Assuming he really does still live with his parents, I fully support the petition to get his Patreon suspended until he at least finishes Osana. Most game devs don’t make any money off of their games until they’ve finished it completely

10. YanDev wrote rape fanfics

So I did briefly check his old ffn profile some time ago, and as far as I could see everything had the proper ratings and warnings

Tagging/warning/rating is a fanfic author’s only responsibility to you. You make the choice on whether or not to read it. If everything is appropriately tagged and you read it anyway, that’s on you, not the author. If you are mature enough to be on the internet unsupervised, then you are mature enough to curate your own experience.

Fiction is the place to explore controversial themes and topics. It doesn’t mean in any way that a content creator would condone the things they write about in real life

11. YanDev steals art/assets

He does, and still hasn’t apologized for the DLC rivals thing. In fact he made a post defending himself for it, and even compared himself to Andy Warhol in the process (lol)

I’m not sure but I think I heard something recently about him continuing to do this type of thing (the grass, etc.). In which case we should continue to put pressure on him until he credits the creators of whatever art/assets he stole. Art theft is inexcusable

12. The fanbase is mostly kids

This is unfortunately true, and it’s a big problem (i’ve had to deal with it myself on my youtube channel)

However I would personally say that this problem is outside of YanDev’s control. Kids seem to be drawn to edgy/violent things, or things they shouldn’t be allowed to see (just look at Call of Duty). I put the blame for this on the parents who aren’t monitoring their kids’ computer activities. As for YanDev, he’s not a babysitter and it’s not his responsibility to censor his content for kids who shouldn’t be viewing it in the first place

Underage or not though, he should really avoid calling his fans things like “fuck kittens”. Even from the perspective of an adult that’s super creepy to hear

13. The character designs suck

Some are alright, others are absolutely awful

I think that, in a game built on anime tropes, characters should be allowed to have unnaturally-coloured hair. I mean, a lot of characters in anime do have weird hair that you wouldn’t see in real life (seemingly without any dye), and it can add a lot of personality to their designs

But some YanSim characters push that too far. The science club is the worst of the worst imo, despite being otherwise one of my favourite clubs. The neon streaks are ugly, and what’s up with the visors? Why are they allowed to wear those outside of club time? Why do they wear them during club time, as opposed to actual goggles or something? (i have this issue with a lot of club accessories, imo the accessories are unnecessary in the first place)

The bullies and the light music club also take things too far. Their designs are crowded, hard to look at, and out-of-place. Nothing against characters with multi-coloured hair, but there’s a time and a place and a “prestigious” school setting isn’t it

(also, slightly off-topic, but why does almost every “intended couple” look like they could be siblings?)

I could probably make a whole separate post on the character designs in YS, but I’ll save that for another day. (i’m just very passionate about character design)

14. YanDev has collaborated with porn games 3 times now

Once I could overlook (after all, the characters are 18+ and YS is already not for kids) but a third time? Seriously? And so soon after the last one?

Not only do I have mixed feelings about Yandev doing crossovers when his game isn’t even in the demo stage yet, isn’t this game supposed to be taken seriously as a horror game? I can’t think of a single other horror game that has willingly put its characters in porn.

Also I can’t help noticing that he advertises the porn game crossovers a lot more than he did with that one Dark Deception crossover. Did he ever even mention that one? I only ever saw it on the Dark Deception Twitter

15. YanDev is rude to his fans

I don’t have a lot to say against this one. As far as I’ve seen, he is, and he doesn’t take criticism well at all (just look at the subreddit - yes, a lot of the things that were removed deserved it (unfunny cum chalice jokes, etc.) but there have also been completely innocent questions, fanarts, jokes, and fanfics that have been removed. Not to mention mods going through peoples’ post history and banning them for being active in r/Osana. Both he and his mod team seem insanely paranoid)

I think he’s going to have to grow a thicker skin and stop censoring critiques if he wants to get anywhere with this game. Not just fans who bring up tiny details that might need changing, but also big, glaring issues like the code and character designs and such. He also doesn’t seem that professional for a game developer who wants to be taken seriously

That being said, if you’re the type to spam the discord server/subreddit/fan communities who have nothing to do with Yandev like the amino, you deserved that ban

16. YanDev defends pedophiles/the “sex license” thing

“No adult ever has any excuse to do anything sexual with a child. As soon as you touch a kid, you have crossed the line from being someone with a mental disorder to being the worst scum imaginable. Having a mental illness is involuntary, but touching a kid is a choice. If you have a mental illness, I feel bad for you. If you violate a child, I feel disgust and contempt for you, and I think you deserve the death penalty.” -From YanDev himself on this page

The sex license thing is also debunked on the same page: the whole conversation was taken out of context and the hypothetical “license” was supposed to be something that only an adult could meet the requirements for

17. “Corona-chan”

This was a really insensitive move to make in the middle of a pandemic, and I agree that the design was racist

However, YanDev listened to the fans’ complaints and removed the easter egg a day later, plus gave an apology. I think that this was the best thing he could do in that scenario and idk what else people are expecting him to do about it

18. YanDev’s general portrayal of high schoolers

Honestly, it’s not 100% realistic (especially in some of the dialogue. you know what i’m talking about)

I’m surprised that more students don’t seem to have friends outside of their clubs. It seems like all the students mostly stick within their club/group - walking to school together, spending their breaks together, etc. A lot of the ways the characters behave are very robotic, like walking in a perfectly straight line everywhere they go

That being said, a lot of the things i’ve seen criticized in regards to this are not part of the problem. By the time you’re in high school, you’ve probably hit puberty. It doesn’t make a character automatically sexualized if they have bigger breasts (though some designs in the game are over-sexualized, like a few certain staff members)

19. Muja, Mida, and Hanako

Let’s start with Hanako: Yandev has already said that she’s not romantically interested in her brother, she’s just insanely clingy and doesn’t want him to get a girlfriend out of fear that he’ll forget about her. If you still insist that she’s in love with Taro, then that’s on you

Muja and Mida I have mixed feelings on.

If every student is 18 or older, meaning that the first-years are 18, that makes Taro, a third-year, 20-21 years old. If Mida and Muja are in their early 20s as Yandev has said, that means that the age gap isn’t an issue. However, it’s still wrong for a teacher or a nurse to pursue their student/patient

I don’t think Yandev should need to spell out “hey, Mida and Muja are not good people” in flashing neon signs. The game is rated M and anyone who’s old enough to play it should be able to understand that without it being said. If you need morality in fiction spoon-fed to you, you probably shouldn’t be watching/reading/playing anything rated above PG

On the other hand, YanDev has a nasty habit of making these things into a joke, which is really insensitive and creepy. Like saying that Mida’s favourite food is “the spit of a younger man” (yikes), that she’s tried to seduce her own students 69 times (haha 69 so funney right guys XD), or that whole confession scene mess. It’s less of a problem with Muja, but it’s still there. As much as the audience shouldn’t need everything served to them on a silver platter, issues like these should still be treated with respect, not made into gags

20. Yandev wastes time on “Easter eggs”

I have to agree that he does spend time implementing unnecessary things sometimes (like the abc challenge), but as far as I know the Easter eggs are what he does in his spare time while waiting for assets from volunteers. However: snap mode, which was hyped up for years, turned out to be a flop with zero purpose, disappointing a good portion of the fanbase.

21. Love Letter

So far I’m really liking the look of this game: I like the models and the school environment they’ve shown, and it seems like they’re doing a lot of things in better or more interesting ways than YanDev, like not outright telling us who the rivals are. I don’t think it’s fair to accuse them of “stealing” anything, when it seems like most of the assets the games have in common are the things they bought from the Unity store (Love Letter even changed the base Unity model to have a more appealing look)

I'm glad to see that they actually listened to criticism from fans on things like Setsuna’s design (I love her newest look and I hope it’s the final one). From design alone she’s already a more interesting protagonist, and she looks like the sort of character you’d actually enjoy playing as

Not sure I totally buy the claim that it was all done in two weeks, but even if it was over the span of months, that’s still miles better than YanSim’s six years

Knowing that Dr. Apeis has already ditched one project I’m staying open to new information on this, but as of right now I’m looking forward to playing the demo!

Overall: A lot of the hate against the game and the dev are unnecessary, but some is justified and we shouldn’t blindly defend everything he does (seriously, you can admit that the character designs are shit. no one is going to stone you for it). There are a lot of improvements Dev could make, both on the game and on his behaviour towards fans.

I think that the biggest improvement would be for the game to just stop taking itself so seriously. At this point, it’s so full of memes, cringy google translate names, excessive edginess, and gags that it may as well just be a fun ridiculous anime game instead of a serious horror game. I feel like taking this approach could make it more successful (plus, it doesn’t really have a lot of horror elements aside from the gore)

There are a lot of cases of people taking things too far. Like spamming YanDev with explicit gore/animal abuse, trying to swat him, spamming volunteers with weird porn, trying to hack into volunteers’ accounts (including bank accounts), etc. That is going way too far, no matter how awful or pathetic you think a person is. If you are doing these kinds of things, you are doing more harm than Dev or his volunteers

Attacking YanDev’s appearance is unnecessary and not related to his behaviour or skills. Same with the chalice memes

However, I’ve seen a lot of YanDev’s defenders lashing out against “gremlins”, lumping all of them in with the kinds of people who do these things. If you check r/Osana, you’ll see that most if not all of the people there condemn this behaviour: the gore and porn spammers are a loud minority (and i’m willing to bet most of them are the basement-dwelling losers from KiwiFarms and 4Chan)

Attacking and/or spamming fans who are just trying to enjoy the game is also unnecessary. Someone liking a video game you don’t like is not doing you any harm. Be mature and move on

I’m not sure if some of what I’ve said above is 100% accurate so if anyone actually read this and has evidence against it then feel free to add

I think that’s about all I have to say on that. Again, i don’t know if it will change anything in the fandom but i really just wanted to get this off my chest

#yandere simulator #yansim #yanderedev #yandev #not sure if i should tag this as crit or not

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