#'when the slightest unite a giant will rise'

[lafaiette]

Gods I feel you I'm only 10 hours in after having received the game as a gift and I REALLY try to like it but it just ... doesn't feel like Dragon Age. Characters know stuff they shouldn't know about, the game keeps talking down to me, nothing I did in the previous games mattered, the tone is completely different, the mature storytelling of the previous games seems to be missing so far & what I heard so far of how the lore and the characters from previous games have been handled is honestly the worst part and breaks my heart. idk even if i wanna finish the game at this point anymore, I'm just kinda ... sad.

I'm so sad and disappointed, too, I remember our conversations, fics, and headcanons about DA! We were so excited and happy, because Inquisition, DA2, and DAO were genuinely well-made and aimed at pleasing the fans, despite their faults.

DATV is a good action game, no doubt about that. The combat is fun, there is a lot to explore and discover, and many locations are beautiful, even though some are terrible to navigate (Dock Town's structure makes no sense). But that's it - it's a good action game with the name "Dragon Age" pasted on it. It doesn't feel like it's part of the series, it constantly treats the player like an idiot, some references to past games and characters are literally hidden in the brief descriptions of the mementos, and there is even a Glossary to make sure the new players don't get frustrated.

Everything is safe and aseptic, cleaned of every deep piece of lore that could have scared new fans into buying or continuing the game. Even the banters lack the depth of the previous games.

A good game company should lure new players in not by rejecting their past entries, but by making them look even more interesting with their sequels.

Bioware wasn't afraid of offering piece of lore after piece of lore in Inquisition - it was a game set in a precise moment, whose prologue was directly tied to the events of the previous game, and new players had to accept this if they decided to buy it and play it. If they liked that premise, all that information and those details, then they were more than welcome - they were encouraged! - to go back, try the older games, and see how it had all started. It was a game made for the fans the company had already managed to win over, not for possible fans who may or may not bring new money in.

In DATV the new players can jump right in after quickly learning who Solas is and what he's trying to do, and old fans are left with an empty shell, with minor references that are supposed to make us feel happy and accomplished peppered here and there, while all our past choices and our favorite characters are forgotten or brought back with a terrible case of amnesia. It's lazy, infuriating, and very sad, and it smells of reboot, because the new devs probably realized they couldn't keep up with the amount of lore and choices the series contain, and they needed to start anew.

[elkattacks]

I'm ambling through another run of Trespasser and noticed a tavern song I don't think I've ever heard before? It's called "The Slightest Ones"

This song includes the lyrics:

"Mercy for the elves who guard their lives with faith

Our hands do weight them down, but their kind hearts will forgive the weight

Arlathan fell so deep onto the ocean floor

Currents of hate will so challenge their fate"

And: "When the slightest unite, then a giant will rise"

Arlathan fell.. to the ocean floor?? 👀 how has this piece of information eluded me? Every time I play I feel like I learn something new. Also that seems.. really interesting regarding the new DA4 trailer we got.. "a giant will rise" oh boy..

Full lyrics from the wiki: https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/The_Slightest_Ones

[remmushound]

Bay/rise 24!! Sorry it ends quite suddenly; the fighting went on for longer than I anticipated. @selfindulgenz @brightlotusmoon @errorfreak88

Content warning!! Panic attack and violence are featured!!

Four solid turtles landed with solid thuds on the rooftop. Leo was thankful for the quick approach of sunset that cast the city into the shadows they learned to live by. One quick look around the rooftop revealed nothing out of the ordinary as far as Leo could see.

“Thought you said she’d be here Don?” Leo sighed. It wasn’t that he disliked going out of his way, not when the life of an April was at risk, but they couldn’t risk coming out when the city was still active.

“She should have been.” Donnie whispered, checking his wristband as his forehead wrinkled in concentration, “I don’t have footage of her leaving…”

“Well, you see a teenage girl anywhere?” Raph growled.

“Man, I was excited!” Mikey snapped his fingers, “This would be like the third chick I know! Hope she thinks I’m cute!”

“Who wouldn’t think you’re cute, Mike?” Raph snarled.

“Aw, thanks bro!”

“Guys!” Donnie said, his goggles now pulled over his eyes as he looked around the area. “I think I figured out our issue.”

The air around them was filled with the stuff. Like pink cloud of cotton candy betraying the faintest traces of Dimension X. He gave the goggles over to Leo so the leader could observe for himself. Leo became unusually quiet as he eyed the strange cloud, then gave the googles back to Donnie and stalked off to the corner of the roof to get what little privacy he could to mull over his thoughts.

“What���s Samurai Jack over there bummed about?” Raph huffed, his voice betraying the concern for his brother.

“There’s traces of Dimension X here.” Donnie explained.

“So? We already knew Bubblicious was back.” Raph shrugged.

“Yeah— we knew he was in his dimension, not that he could get into ours. If he can come through again, then he might be trying to bring the technodrome through.”

“So? We beat him once!”

“And Mikey was nearly cracked like a walnut! I’d rather not go through that whole situation again— it hasn’t even been a year!”

“Well we know what to expect this time so it shouldn’t be that difficult!”

Donnie opened his mouth, but then quietly reserved. “Leo— I— if Krang’s in the city still, I could probably track him?”

“What are the chances of that?” Leo asked, almost imperceptibly soft.

“Uh… not very likely… but if there’s even a small chance then…”

“Then you should try. Go ahead, then.”

Donnie nodded and set his tracker to work. 

The wait was the longest ten minutes of Mikey’s life. Granted, every minute usually passed like an eternity to him, but it was always a lot harder when he got like this. Always without warning, it could seize him and squeeze him tight like some icky, cold octopus. Or maybe it was like… the thing he couldn’t think of. Maybe he was still there and that’s why he couldn’t breath and that’s why his chest felt tight and painful and why the world was suddenly spinning circles. He wanted to sit, so he did.

“Hey bro, you good?” 

Raph’s touch was innocent enough, just a simple wrap of his arm around Mikey’s shell and a gentle squeeze, but for Mikey it was agony. It was like fire shot through his body and he just needed to run because if he didn't then his mind was screaming at him that he would die—

Donnie’s announcement came just in time to save Mikey’s life. “Hey Leo, I got a hit!”

That caught Leo’s attention. “Great. Where to next?”

***

“I’m only going to ask this once more. Where are the turtles?!” Baron Draxum demanded, his voice booming with a robotic enhancement.

“Last I saw, they were in Nunya.”

“Nunya?”

“NUNYA BUISNESS!”

Cassandra laughed and pointed at Baron, making the yokai glare back at her with angry eyes. “You walked right into that one! Just like ligma!”

“Ligma? Who’s ligma?”

“LIGMA BALLS!”

Both Cassandra and April laughed that time. April’s eyes were forever trained on the orb. April had long since given up on escaping the restraints but she was still bubbling with fury at seeing her precious orb in the grip of someone so villainous. Cassandra had the artifact strapped safely to her belt. Yet still, for some reason, April laughed along with the foot soldier that could destroy everything she protected at the slightest whim.

“You are really getting on my nerves, little girl…” Draxum leaned over April with a threatening scowl, his lion-like features visible even through the new armor that covered him. 

“Why are you doing this?” April knew what she was doing. She had spent so long with Donatello that the drama and the tears came to her like the flick of a switch, the emotions on the outside not at all matching the inside. Outside, she was a mess of tears and distress while inside her mind was calculated and almost cold as she considered every possible escape. “I thought you changed…”

Draxum laughed. A cold, chilling laugh with no warmth in at all. No care for the fate of the teen in front of him. Caring only for his own self-preservation and willing to toss everything and everyone aside to achieve the goals in his mind.

“You seriously think thousands of years of being evil and I could switch to being all sunshine and daisies because some pathetic failure of an experiment asked nicely?”

April couldn’t hide her rage, giving a battle cry as she tried to lunge out of her seat. Baron Draxum pulled away at the last minute and laughed as April topped over, unable to catch herself due to her restraints and slamming her face hard into the cold concrete. Her war shout turned into a painful cry as the impact reverberated inside her skull and rattled her to her core. It took a few seconds of numbness before pain returned to her tenfold.

“Oops.” Baron Draxum laughed, “Sorry.” He laughed and raised his hoof to give her another solid blow, but the impact never landed.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!”

Baron Draxum looked up just as a massive figure came from the sky in a flip, a powerful kick landing on his outstretched leg and making the sheep bleat in a pain of his own. All April could see from her position on the floor were a set of massive green feet, but she didn't have to wait long before the chair was lifted effortlessly off of the ground and back upright, her binds undone with a quick flash of a pocketknife.

“Hi, I’m Michelangelo.” The massive green giant gave a dopey smile and pointed to his orange mask. “Like, don’t be scared dudette I’m totally here to be your prince in shining armor! Uh. With no armor!”

“Huh. Okay.” April had seen weirder.

Like she were little more than a sack of potatoes, April was lifted bridal style and carried away from the conflict by the strange mutant calling himself by her friend's name.

“Where’s Krang?” Leo demanded, aiming his katana at what he perceived as a mutant attacker.

Baron Draxum stared curiously. “You must be the Leonardo of this world. Strange. I imagined you smaller!” With the enunciation of the word, Draxum brought a vine down upon the leader and whipped him hard against the soft of his chest, sending ninja flying backward with the force.

Before Draxum could revel in his victory, a bigger force slammed into him and knocked him off his hooves, sending Draxum into the air a few feet. The yokai came down hard but turned his slide into a charge. Raph had his sai ready, deflecting the blows that Draxum tried to land on him while landing a few punches when the opportunity presented itself.

“Master Draxum!” Cassandra was momentarily distracted and Donnie took the opportunity to jump out of his own hiding place and swing his staff toward her. Cass caught onto the attempted attack from the corner of her eye and swung her naginata to intercept the blow, locking her and the mutant into a struggle. 

Cassandra dug her feet into the ground as hard as she could, dragging the turtle as close to the other spar as she dared before putting everything she had into a sudden turn that caught Donnie off balance and sent him stumbling into Raph.

“What the Hell Don—“ Raph lost his focus and Baron Draxum jumped, slamming both hooves hard into the giants chest to send him knocking into Donnie once more. Then a sudden ankle-swipe from Cassandra had them both on the ground tangled in each other's limbs.

Cassandra ran to Draxum’s side and they gave each other a fist bump.

Leo charged back into the fray with a blow aimed at Draxum, but Cassandra caught sight of the attempted attack and shoved her master out of the way.

“Master!” 

Leo’s charge handed hard against her and he didn't stop charging until he had slammed her into the wall.

“Cassandra!” Draxum, despite his years of experience, was dumbfounded by the sudden rescue from the general. He looked behind him when he heard another battle cry and spun to catch Mikey mid-jump, the vines wrapping around Mikey’s shell securely before spinning him around and tossing him carelessly. Mikey ducked into his shell before the impact and didn't come back out.

“You children are getting on my nerves!”

Raph and Donnie untangled themselves from each other finally and charged Draxum as a unit.

“Good teamwork.” Draxum brought his vines neck-level with the charging brothers and knocked them both flat on their carapace with their own momentum.

Cassandra was still too preoccupied with her assault on Leo to lend any assistance to her master. Leo was caught off guard by how weaselly the general was, zooming in and out and up and down and, by the time any of his blows were ready, she was already somewhere else. He didn't want to praise the enemy, but damn was she fast!

“Would you— stop moving?!” Leo was starting to get frustrated.

Finally, the soldier kicked off his chest and landed a short distance away on her hands and feet, shooting up quickly and brandishing her naginata. “FOOT CLAAAAAAAAN!”

She charged Leo again and flashed her weapon, the blade just barely brushing across Leo’s plastron before he was able to pull back and dodge the attack.

“Do not waste all your energy at once, general.” Draxum’s voice was surprisingly steady despite taking on Raph and Donnie’s attacks at once. He deflected another one of Donnie’s attacks and once more the lanky teen stumbled. “You need to work on your balance recovery.” Another attack from Raph that Draxum had been anticipating. “You need to mix up your attacks!”

Raph growled, “STOP GIVING ME ADVICE!”

[kassofchaos]

Getting the Facts Straight

So, after what seems to have been a super long hiatus, I'm back with another chapter of the fic! Hope the wait wasn't unbearable, ya'll.

The Batcave. Perhaps it’s a childish name for a 31-year old billionaire to adopt for his alter-ego’s base of operations and armory, but there’s no denying it sounds cool. To the younger, more impressionable guest, the moniker certainly succeeds in its wow factor, not to mention the awe of finding himself there.

Batman doesn’t have many guests down here. It’s usually just him and Alfred, maybe the occasional criminal; but never someone like Ben. “Why do you have a dinosaur up here?” Speak of the devil.

Batman turns to face his guest, looking to see the green-vested lad standing next to one of the giant cave’s many attractions: a life-size model of a Tyrannosaur. Granted, a very old depiction.

“I came across it during an old mission. Decided to keep it.” He responds. Easy, succinct.

“It isn’t even accurate, how old is this thing?”

“I don’t know. These things don’t come with information plaques.”

A silence wafts over them both. Even for just that second, the silence is palpable.

“Man, hate that.” Ben responds. “I get that it’s just more work, but I can’t ever see something like this as finished without a plaque like that, y’know?”

Another pause, this one slightly longer than the last. Batman sighs; so this is the kind of person he’s let in. Could be worse.

“We can mess around with my decorations later. Tell me about the watch.”

“What, this old thing? Had it since I was ten.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“By now? Eeehh, twelve, maybe thirteen years? I got it late into my tenth, so I can’t know for certain. I don’t just have the exact date on me, right-”

“Explain what it does.” Batman’s order cuts through Ben’s rant before it could even begin. Ben gulps; he’s really dealing with THE BATMAN here.

“Well…” He lets out a half-hearted chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Where do you want me to start?”

“You know where I want you to start.”

Ben takes a step back, looking away for just a second, shrinking at even the slightest hint of intimidation.

“Well… this-” He puts up his left arm, letting the light of the Batcave fall upon the device attached to his wrist, its green-and-black dial gleaming with the bright. “-is the Omnitrix. I don’t know everything about it myself, either, but I know how to use it, and I’ve been able to clue together some information on it after so long.”

Batman listens on, a notepad in his hands, ready to jot down anything important.

“From what I’ve gathered, this is alien technology. Within it are the samples of ten different alien species. I can choose which one I want to transform into by-” To demonstrate, he taps a small button on the device’s side facing him, watching the dial rise just slightly, projecting a holographic black silhouette of a four-armed humanoid. Ben grabs onto the dial’s side and turns it left, watching as the silhouette is replaced with another, this one of a shorter creature resembling a crab. “-turning the dial. When I press it down, then.. I suspect you can guess from there.”

“Only ten?” Batman asks amidst note-taking.

“Ten.” Ben nods. “An arsenal that compliments itself well. I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or not, but the choice of aliens on the watch feels planned, for lack of a better word. Intelligently designed, in a sense.”

“Lead me through each one.”

“I don’t know that I want to .” Ben finally interjects. “Sorry if that’s rude, sir, but… I’m not just going to tell you all of my strengths and weaknesses.”

Batman smiles. “There it is.��� Batman waves Ben forward, leading him further. Down a set of stairs, to face a ginormous onslaught of computer monitors of varying sizes, all heralding a lengthy desk and a couple of simple revolving chairs. “I think I know why you’re here.”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

Batman nods, turning to type up on the keyboard, facing the smallest monitor screen just above said keyboard as if it were a simple laptop or home computer. After a few clicks, a picture comes up on one of the largest monitors; the scowling visage of a bitter, scarred, and somewhat wrinkled face, adorned with wide red goggles and cybernetics around the sides of his face.

“You’ve come here for him.”

Ben looks up at the display, not needing any more than a second to recognize that face. He nods. “Dr. Aloysius James. Insists on the name ‘Dr. Animo’. Sounds tacky.”

“This coming from ‘Ben Ten’.” “This coming from ‘The Batman’?”

A pause wafts over the room, broken only by the sounds of keyboard keys being pressed rapidly.

“Fair point.” Batman turns Ben’s attention out to another screen. Several dates from the last three months all laid out uniform on the monitor. “There are the days Dr. Animo has been seen publicly for the last three months. Anywhere from Bellwood to DC, even all the way down in Texas or Kansas. Most recently, he’s converged here.”

Ben nods. “That’s part of why I’m here. I heard Animo was coming by to visit. He and I have something to settle.” Ben narrows his eyes, taking a look at each date. September 7th, September 17th, October 7th, and so on. The consistency drags on. “All dates ending on a 7.”

“The question is… why.”

“Why? Dr. Animo’s often like this… kinda weird around numbers.” “This isn’t just Dr. Animo, Ben.” Batman reassures him, and another monitor lights up with even more dates. September 3rd, September 9th, September 15th, on and on.

“These ones are divisible by three.” Ben confirms.

Batman nods. “These are all dates pertaining to an enemy of mine, Bane. Once again, from various cities all over the United States. I’m positive these have a connection, and I have a name to go off of, but…” That’s when the caped crusader hears the slam of a button and a flash of green light envelops Ben. He turns around quickly to make sense of the commotion, only to behold an entirely new figure having taken Ben’s place: an orange, crab-like thing easily standing above three feet tall, and with a massive head to take up most of that height.

The creature waves one of his pincers, using its other to point to the belt it was wearing right underneath its head; the dial of ben’s omnitrix on full display at the front of the iron strap. “Worry not.” He speaks in a slightly deeper, trilling voice with the hint of a british stiff-upper-lip. “I thought I’d swap over to another more… intellectually gifted form.”

“What do you call this one?” Batman asks rhetorically, not expecting the crab to answer with “Brainstorm, actually”. Upon hearing that, he lets out a sigh and returns his focus to the information at hand.

Before he can get another word in, Brainstorm interrupts.

“Mayhaps it is worth noting every date of Dr. Animo’s appearance ends with a 7, with the exception of any days where it is the 27th. Divisible by three, just like every appearance attributed to your ‘Bane’ figure.”

“Right.” Batman nods, then looks to all of Bane’s dates for a similar pattern. September 6th, missing entirely. September 12th, the very same. “Not a single even number on this list. Divisible by 2.”

“A hint to another cohort in this scheme?” Brainstorm adds. “Or perhaps we’ve fallen into a purposely set rabbithole? This could all be an elaborate ruse; a red herring, if you will.”

“Even if it is-” Batman quickly asserts, “-I can’t ignore the fact that it might not be. If this is intentional, we’re step further into finding the reason behind all this.

“Does that reason mayhaps include that thing that attacked us on the street?” Brainstorm’s thoughts flicker back to just a few hours ago, having been assaulted by that large, somewhat mechanical purple beast. An alien? Mayhaps.

“I don’t know. He seemed more intent on your watch than anything else… still, we can’t strike the idea.”

“Today is the 16th of December. If the pattern holds true-” Brainstorm adds, “-and if Dr. Animo truly is in Gotham, we will see him tomorrow. We best be prepared for such.” Brainstorm gives the dial on his belt a firm press, and with the same flash of green light, Ben returns to normal.

“If you want me to rest here, I will. I don’t mind sleeping on couches. Point is, we should be prepared.”

“Indeed. We should.”

[that-dreaded-wolf]

I can’t stress enough how excited I am to see how the prophecies of previous games are handled in DA4. There are so many I’ve been very AAAA over!

If the one from Flemeth to Hawke isn’t addressed or is swept under a rug of “oh the story line in DA2 you had to follow literally no matter what was fulfilling it and Here Lies The Abyss is just a coincidence” someone is getting kicked I’ll be so upset because the potential there is sO GOOD!!

Sandal’s prophecy is already seemingly in the making, and arguably songs from the games could be framed as hints of what’s to come “When the slightest unite, then a giant will rise” instantly has me thinking about not only how the elves already were working together on meg things but how they will unite under Fen’Harel’s banner or even against him.

I know those aren’t the only ones but they are most prominent in my headspace I need to see them fulfilled or used because AA the potential!! If they just throw out prophecies they don’t use, or they get swept under the rug it steals from something that could’ve had such a big impact. I want to feel like my characters’ choices mattered rather than only seeming to impact the moment the decision is made. And I also want to see things from prior games aside from your choices, in the form of the prophecies, actually being used! So many fans have picked up on them, theorized with them, and to have that fall flat or go nowhere is such a kick in the gut. I’m waiting for bigger impact decisions in Dragon Age honestly. I’m waiting for things to actually be continued when mentioned rather than simply dropped or glossed over in a random side convo you can miss. Compared to Mass Effect it has been a bit of a let down. And I know that’s a huge high ask due to all of the potential underlying storylines and routes you can go, but DA has so much less of an impact because genuinely imo it doesn’t feel like your choices matter all that much? Sure, Warden can live or die. Sure you can have your past characters’ deeds mentioned in passing like One Single Time. Sure I guess it changes a few lines of dialogue but it seems that that is all it does. I hate comparing games, especially ones that have such big differences, and I know the same expectations should not be held for different games but regardless it’s still a let down and I’m really hoping that in the next game we get a show of some sort of impact. And please don’t make the one big impact just be “lol did ur inquisitor romance Solas or nah” because if so I am throwing hands

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 73.5

We finally learn what's happening to the rest of the Battalion. Previous! Next! 

--

Government of Doom Part 5

           Zim’s house is quiet, completely covered in impenetrable metal plating. On the roofs of the surrounding buildings in the cul-de-sac, four pairings of SDA agents are watching it closely, waiting for the slightest change. They are professionals, working in shifts to keep from getting tired eyes. And while they think they’re ready for anything, they could never be ready for what happens next.

           A young man walks down the street straight for Zim’s house. All four groups immediately perk up, recognizing him to be Johnny C. But before they can act, they’re all swiftly killed- necks snapped, skulls crushed, throats slit, and heads smashed by four individuals they were not expecting.

           The Night Terrors leap off the buildings and join Johnny as he enters Zim’s yard.

           “You sure you’re up for this, Nny?” Reverend Meat asks, noting Johnny’s pale, sweaty complexion and matted hair.

           “Yeah, you look dreadful,” Eff adds, “like even worse than usual.”

           “I’m fine,” Nny insists gravelly, “this is nothing.”

           When they approach Zim’s house, Johnny knocks heavily against the metal plating. “Hey! Open up! It’s Johnny!”

           There’s no response for a second. Then the plating around the door disappears and Skoodge opens it.

           “Come in, quickly,” he orders. Everyone hurries inside and Skoodge closes it after them, the metal plating returning.

           “What’s going on out there?” he asks frantically.

           “Squee and the others have all been captured by those agent assholes,” Johnny replies as they march through the house. “We gotta find them.”

           “Oh no!” Skoodge exclaims.

           They take the elevator down to the lab and Johnny starts to make a beeline for where the captured agents are in their glass cage, but stops at the sight before him.

           The agents are all curled up, rocking back and forth, and covering their ears, as Gir bangs tunelessly on a toy keyboard and squeals, “doom doom doomdoomdoom dooooooooom!”

           “It’s his Doom song,” Skoodge clarifies, “he’s been singing it since you guys left.”

           “Wow,” Johnny comments, “he’s almost better at torturing than me.”            He ignores Gir and stomps up to the cage, slamming his hand against the wall. “Where’s your headquarters?”

           “Doom doom doom,” one of the agents mutters feverishly while the others whimper and moan.

           Johnny glares at them incredulously while Skoodge passes by. “You’re not gonna get anything out of them,” he says as he approaches the main computer. “Fortunately, I got a better alternative.”

           “‘Puter,” Skoodge demands, “track Zim’s PAK.”

           “Tracking,” the Computer replies apathetically. A view of Earth appears on screen briefly before zooming in on the United States, into Nevada, and stopping over a flashing pink dot.

           “There he is,” Skoodge says.

           “Nevada,” Nny groans, “how are we supposed to get there?”

           “We can use the Epic,” he suggests.

           “It’s back at Devi’s I think.”

           “No problem,” Skoodge grins, “‘Puter, recall the Epic.”

           Everything’s quiet for a moment and then a sound similar to a jet engine echoes through the walls.

           “There we go,” he says and walks for the elevator. “I can drive.”

           “Ooh, we get to fly in the flying car,” Reverend Meat cheers excitedly.

           “I am coming too,” Mimi declares, “my master is in danger.”            “Fine,” Skoodge nods, “Gir, Minimoose, you stay and watch over the prisoners.”            Minimoose squeaks while Gir continues singing.      

           “Alright, let’s go already,” Johnny orders impatiently. Everyone rides the elevator and quickly exit the house, the metal plating closing back up behind them. They all get into the Epic and Skoodge punches in coordinates to Zim’s location.

           “Here we go!” he booms as the ship takes off into the air at such velocity, it pushes everyone up against the seats. “We’ll be there in no time!”

           Meanwhile, deep within the SDA facility, Zim is suspended inside a metal laboratory. His arms are hanging from the ceiling by metal cords and his legs are bound to the floor. His PAK is connected by only a few cords, giving his body just enough power to stay alive. Robotic arms coming out of the ceiling are removing all the items, which seem very miscellaneous: a couple large knives, a bat, a few books on the supernatural, two laser guns, and many alien devices.

           Zim pants heavily, too exhausted to try fighting back. But his antennae twitch slightly when a beeping emits from his PAK and he grins.

           “Hear that!” he shouts weakly, “that means my PAK is being tracked! My loyal minions are on their way to rescue me!”

           Through a one-way mirror, a head scientist named Mackey is controlling the robotic arms. He stops for a minute at Zim’s words and turns to his assistant.

           “Warn the Director,” he orders. The young man nods before hurrying off and Mackey faces the controls again. But his work is a little more hesitant as he is slightly unsettled by the grin plastered on Zim’s face.

           In a similar lab, Tak is in much the same situation. The only difference is a wire attached to the metal plating on her face. Whenever it looks like she might try to retaliate, the head scientist in charge of her capture- a woman called Nel- sends a large shock through the wire. This keeps Tak compliant.

           Nel would never admit it, being a professional, but she does love the way the alien’s body convulses with each shock. So she’ll take any excuse to punish her, even the slightest twitch of a finger.

           Tak pants heavily through gritted fangs. Even with her PAK detached, she would be able to escape if it wasn’t for those blasted shocks. When she gets out of this- and she will- she’s gonna make that scientist pay. She’ll make them all pay.

           Pepito is thinking the same thing as, a few labs over, his throat gets hoarse from screaming. He is shirtless, bound to a metal table by silver chains that sear his flesh. Twin scientists named Lark and Stark stand over him, both wearing large crosses as they test the sensitivity of his horns, by squeezing them with clamps.

           “Intriguing,” Lark comments as Pepito writhes. “They must be full of nerve endings, like teeth.”

           “Yes. Imagine what the Christian church will say when they find out the Antichrist has such a large weakness,” Stark remarks.

           “Indeed,” his brother agrees, “but his energy levels remain stagnant. I thought for sure stress would activate his powers.”

           “Could be the silver. But if we remove it, we risk allowing him the freedom to destroy the facility.”

           “Too true. For now, let’s continue testing the limits of his body. The Director wants us to document every single thing.”

           “He is so thorough.”

           The two brothers nod agreeably. Beneath them, Pepito pants rapidly, trying to think about something other than the pain. Where are his friends? What’s happening to them? He wants to question these scientists, but the words get gargled in his throat.

           He needs to get out of here. But they were right. The silver chains are preventing him from using his powers. If he could just muster up a little, he would blow them both to bits. If only.

           Finally, in a lab that looks more like a hospital room, a heart monitor beeps rapidly in accordance to Squee’s anxious vitals. He is strapped to a metal table, an IV in his arm and probes attached to his temples. The room is dark but he can make out the silhouette of someone standing on the far end, writing on something.

           Lights suddenly turn on, nearly blinding Squee as a door opens and someone else enter the room.

           “Director!” the first person exclaims, lowering her clipboard.

           “Hello, Doctor Theresa,” the Director smiles warmly as he approaches. He looks over at Squee, who glares at him through squinted eyes as he adjusts to the brightness. “How is he?”

           “His vitals have yet to settle down,” Theresa replies, “it’s a wonder he hasn’t had a heart attack yet.”

           “Well, you can’t blame him,” the Director laughs, “waking up in this situation.”

           He approaches the foot of the table and Squee does his best to squirm away.

           “Hello, Squee C,” he says, “I am the Director, the head of the Supernatural Destruction Agency.”

           “Destruction?” Squee grumbles, “seems dramatic.”

           “You, my boy, are a…marvelous specimen,” the Director says, “your supernatural energy levels are the highest I’ve ever seen in a full human. They’re even higher than some paranormal creatures. You must be able to perceive things that most humans could never even dream of. I modified my mind and body to achieve sight like yours, and I’m sure you’re still stronger.”

           “That’s…flattering…” Squee comments uncomfortably.

           The Director smiles. “I was hoping to use this machine on the Antichrist, but I’m afraid it’s too risky. On you, though, it should work swimmingly.”

           He grabs one of the probes attached to Squee’s head, running his hand along the cord until it reaches a large rectangular device beside the table. It almost looks like a giant car battery with a screen on the side showing what appears to be energy readings.

           “This is a charger that siphons supernatural energy and converts it into electrical energy, to power devices,” the Director explains, “when we come across creatures with especially high natural energy levels- like yours- we attach them to the device and use them to charge our technology. It makes for a cheaper power bill, let me tell you.”

           He chuckles delightfully while Squee glares in disgust.

           “Now then,” he sighs contently, “you may feel some intense pain.”

           He pushes a button on the charger and a burning, white hot pain runs through Squee’s skull and radiates throughout his entire body. Screams rip through his throat as he writhes in his restraints. It feels like his brain is being sucked out through those tiny tubes.

           The Director and the doctor seem unbothered by the screams. She keeps an eye on his skyrocketing vitals while he watches the power levels on the charger rise with wide, sparkling eyes.

           “Look at this, Doctor,” he says excitedly, “we’ve never achieved power levels this high before! With this, we’ll be able to upgrade all our devices. Perhaps even power the entire facility!”

           “He is just one boy, Director,” Theresa points out.

           “One boy with tremendous power,” he argues, “think of it. We’ll be able to perfect our tracking process. Instead of scanning the energy levels of one area, we’ll be able to do individual beings. No more trial and error with capturing. We’ll know for sure what creature is giving off supernatural energy and neutralize them right then and there.”

           “Won’t…let you…”

           “What’s that?” the Director turns to Squee. He squirms slightly as he grits his teeth and glares at them.

           “I won’t…let you,” he snarls, “I won’t…be your…battery. I won’t…let you hurt…innocent creatures. You won’t…get away with this.”

           “I’m afraid there’s nothing you can, my boy,” the Director says, smiling pityingly as he pats Squee’s leg.

           The door suddenly opens and a lab assistant rushes in. “Director, sir. You need to hear this. It’s important.

           “Alright, alright, I’m coming,” the Director nods, “keep an eye on the boy, Doctor. Make sure he doesn’t die.”

           “Yes, sir,” Theresa nods as he leaves with the assistant. She continues to watch Squee’s vitals as the charger rips through his brain.

           I have to do something, Squee thinks. I can’t move, so I can’t write. But maybe if I focus really hard, I can still create something. Maybe if I focus…

           I need to make something, anything to destroy these machines and help me escape.

           Focus! I need to focus! And create!            The charger suddenly starts beeping, startling Theresa. She looks at the energy levels on screen in bewilderment as they light up red.

           “Wh-what?” she exclaims, “the power’s going up! It-it’s completely off the charts!”

           She looks at Squee and jumps back. “Wh-what is that…?”

           A black cloud is manifesting over Squee’s head, his eyes closed and face twisted with exertion. The cloud continues to grow and grow until the middle starts glowing red and orange, like fire.

           Theresa dives to the floor as the cloud explodes. It’s small, but the noise echoes through the whole facility.

           Theresa looks up at the destruction of the machines and Squee rising from the destroyed table. “What-what did you do?”

           He looks at her, swaying a little on his feet. “Well, I-I’m a little unsure, but I think I um created an explosion. So…that’s kinda cool.”

           Dusting himself off, he stumbles out of the rubble and heads for the door. “Anyway, bye.”

           He’s just about to leave but stops short. “Oh, wait a sec.”

           He looks back at her and she flinches from his dark glare. “Where’s my stuff?”

[lets-talk-appella]

i’m nobody’s but yours

Chapter 5/25 - Beca

Summary: Beca is straight as an arrow. 100%, totally, completely straight. Except for one problem that 100%, totally, completely changes everything: Chloe Beale.

Title borrowed from Calum Scott’s “If Our Love Is Wrong.”

Word Count: 5k

Rating: M (for dark themes, homophobia, masturbation, and eventual smut in later chapters)

TW: Internalized homophobia

AO3 and FFN and under the cut

The days following Worlds pass in a haze of confusion, fear, and jet lag. Beca feels like she’s stumbling from one moment to the next with no end destination in mind. The plane ride back to the United States passes in a hangover fog so dense that Beca almost forgets that she can’t allow herself to touch Chloe anymore. More than once, she wakes up from a nap, her head on Chloe’s shoulder, only to snap herself upright and lean in the other direction, trying to sleep on that side.

She knows Chloe’s bothered by it, and it’s killing Beca to do it, but it’s for the best. Beca tries not to think about it too much.

She wonders if she should have told Chloe that she’s going to break up with Jesse. She’s not sure it’s entirely fair that Chloe should know about her plans before Jesse does, especially considering the reason Beca decided to end their long-term relationship. If Chloe thinks any worse of her for it, though, she hasn’t said. She hasn’t said much about the breakup at all, in fact. Beca tries not to think about that too much, either.

It’s not like she really had a choice in telling the others, though. Almost as soon as they’d boarded the flight from Copenhagen, Amy had pestered the details out of her. After spending the entire morning and wait in the airport enduring Amy’s questions about her mood, Beca had snapped and the truth had come spilling out (loudly) on the flight for all of the Bellas to hear.

It hadn’t been Beca’s proudest moment, but at least it was over and done with.

Really, the only person who doesn’t know that she’s going to break up with Jesse is Jesse himself.

It’s hard to force herself to go to the Treble house two days after returning to Barden. She gives herself a day to sleep off the hangover and jet lag. Then she gives herself a second day to watch Netflix and try to plan what to say to him, besides the truth. When she doesn’t come up with any lie that sounds good, though, and he texts to remind her that they need to plan for their apartment in LA (Countdown to LA: 4 days! Come over!), she knows she can’t put it off any longer.

She leaves the Bella house with a grimace and Chloe’s parting, “Good luck,” in her ears, hoping that by the time she gets to the Treble house she’ll have come up with a decent way to do this.

She doesn’t.

When Jesse opens the door and leads her up the stairs and to his room, she still doesn’t know what she’s going to say. Even when he closes his bedroom door behind them and sprawls on his bed over the covers, smiling at her happily, her mind whirs in search of the right words. Jesse lies there, legs hanging over the end of his bed as he outlines their future in LA, and she’s still got no idea how she’s going to do this.

“So, I know the apartment is a little small, but I really think if we push the futon against that far wall, we’ll have room for a little table in front of it for snacks, and then the TV can go in the corner.”

Beca, cross-legged on the floor, picks at the carpet.

“Uh huh.”

“Right. And then, in the bedroom, we should push the bed in the corner. Which, I know, one of us will have to crawl over the other or scoot down the end to get off it, but it’ll open more room.”

“Yep. Sounds good.”

“And, you know, I think our bathroom would really benefit from one of those giant T-Rex costumes hanging in the bathtub.”

“For sure.”

Jesse props himself up on his hands and frowns down at her. “Beca, are you even listening?”

Startled, she looks up and tries to shake off the fog in her brain. “I – yeah, I mean…”

Jesse raises an eyebrow.

Beca cringes. “Yeah… no.”

“No?”

“No,” sighs Beca. “Sorry. I just. Sorry.”

She runs her hands through her hair, annoyed with herself. She’s annoyed with Jesse, too, though it’s really not his fault. He’s excited to start their lives together; she’s the one who messed things up by developing the right kind of feelings for the wrong person.

“Beca? What’s wrong?”

Jesse looks so concerned for her, his eyes wide and lips parted; it makes Beca’s stomach ache. She hates that she has to be the one to do this to him. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.

She feels like she’s a freshman again, with sky-high walls between her and him. Within her chest, the dam holding back the truth cracks, and it’s on the tip of her tongue, threatening to burst free.

I can’t be with you anymore.

I’m not who you think I am.

I’m sorry.

He’s still staring at her, waiting for her to say something.

God, her stomach hurts. She doesn’t want to do this.

“Bec?”

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. Like ripping off a band-aid, right? She takes another breath.

“B –”

“Ican’tgowithyou,” she spews in a rush.

The air between them stills. Jesse blinks at her. The corners of his mouth tighten.

“Can you please say that again?” he asks, his voice stilted and cold. She knows he heard her the first time.

“Jesse –”

“Please?”

She stares at him; he stares back. The clock on his wall ticks away their breaths, unbearably loud in the quiet.

She breaks first, her voice fragile even to her own ears.

“I can’t go with you to LA. I can’t – I can’t do this anymore. Us. I can’t.”

A muscle jumps in Jesse’s cheek as he clenches his jaw, his expression turning stony – not incredulous, not sad – just stony. After a moment he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and hangs his head.

She wishes he’d yell. Or cry. Or be even the slightest bit surprised.

It’s almost insulting, really, how utterly unsurprised he seems.

After a minute of this – or maybe an hour – Beca thinks that maybe she should leave since it doesn’t seem like Jesse’s going to do anything but sit there. She uncrosses her legs and pushes up from the floor, a little stiff from how tense she’d been. She crosses his bedroom and reaches for the door, telling herself not to look back.

“Any reason why?”

Jesse’s question stops her in her tracks. Her hand twitches on the cool metal of the door handle.

“I just – I can’t,” she manages, teeth gritted. She hadn’t expected him to ask questions, but maybe she should have; the hero in a movie never lets the girl go that easily.

“Bec.”

She closes her eyes at the nickname. She hates it when he calls her that.

(It’s not his nickname to use.)

“Jesse,” she says, fighting to keep her tone flat. “We can’t be together anymore.”

With a creaking of bedsprings and two quick footfalls, he’s beside her in an instant, standing next to the wall. He’s not blocking her exit, but she still feels frozen. Now he looks upset; she has to fight the urge to reach up and press her finger between his eyebrows to soothe the heavy crease there.

“Is it something I did?” Jesse asks tightly. “If it is… Beca, I can fix this, I can –”

The dam in her chest creaks under pressure.

She inhales sharply, cutting him off. “No, it’s not you –”

“Really?” his head draws back and his eyebrows lift. “That line? The ‘it’s not you, it’s me?’”

Beca swallows hard. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to just let her go after she broke things off. He wasn’t supposed to try.

“No, it’s really not you, you – you’re not listening,” Beca insists, her voice rising in pitch.

“I’m listening!” Jesse argues, his own voice becoming louder. “You’re just not saying anything!”

Her mouth opens and it’s right there on the tip of her tongue (I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay) but she shoves it down, refusing to let it leave her body. She closes her mouth and looks to where her hand still rests on the door handle. She should leave. She needs to leave.

“Bec,” Jesse says softly, his voice more pained than she’s ever heard it, “if it’s not something I did, then… are you… seeing someone? Someone else?”

Her heart clenches at the implication, at the idea that she would ever cheat on him. She is nothing like her father. If Jesse really knew her, he’d never have to ask that.

She glares at him, suddenly angry and taking petty satisfaction in how he steps away from her. “I didn’t cheat on you,” she spits. “I’d never do that.”

Still, he pushes. “There’s no one else? No one that you’d rather be with?”

“No!” she insists, praying the flash of red curls flying through her mind hadn’t shown in her eyes and betrayed her.

Jesse’s eyes jump between hers, as if searching for something; for an instant, they’re locked in time, both daring the other to speak first, and Beca wonders with a thrill of dread if he knows. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then he sighs and glances away.

“So, what is it then?” he asks, and she can tell he’s fighting for composure.

There’s nothing she wants more than to reach out to him and explain that it is not his fault. But the walls around her and the dam within her hold her back; the warring forces – a secret dividing her from the rest of the world and a bursting torrent of truth threatening to escape should she release her grip on it for an instant – paralyze her with fear of the unknown.

Beca bites her lip and does the only thing she can think of; she turns the handle of Jesse’s bedroom door, flinging it open before throwing herself out of the room.

“No, you don’t get to do that!” Jesse calls after her, but she’s already moving, her rapid footsteps muffled in the carpet of the landing. “You don’t get to just shut down on me, Beca!” He sounds angry for the first time, and when she glances back, he’s chasing after her with a desperate look on his face.

She reaches the stairs, almost stumbling as she half-runs down them to get away from the last three years of her life.

“You want this to end,” Jesse continues, pounding down the stairs after her, “you want us to be over, that’s – that’s fine, but I deserve to know why!”

Beca jumps the last step and hits the ground floor, making for the door at top speed. She snatches up her bag from the little bench by the door and crams her feet into her sneakers as Jesse reaches her.

“After everything we’ve been through,” he begs, keeping pace with her as she moves to the front door, “after all that time, I deserve to know why!”

She pauses, again with her hand on the door handle. Jesse’s right; he deserves better than he ever got with her.

***************

Beca kisses Jesse after winning Nationals because it feels like she’s supposed to.

There could be worse options; he’s her only male friend at Barden, and he’s cute, nice, and is actually a decent person, even if he is annoyingly enthusiastic at times. Even from the beginning, he’d been enthusiastic in his very painfully, blatantly, glaringly obvious interest in her.

She’s not the type of girl that takes satisfaction in knowing a boy likes her. It actually kind of scares her, how hard he’s been trying with her all year, because she doesn’t try with anyone anymore.

That is, until the Bellas. She tries harder with them than she has with anything in years.

Jesse tries with her, and that’s different and kind of scary. She does grudgingly appreciate it, though, even if it feels like a little too much at times.

She supposes that means she’s supposed to date him. A lot of other people seem to think so, anyway. Aubrey practically has an aneurysm when she claims that she isn’t hooking up with him after the Semis. Maybe ironically, it’s that damage inflicted on all of her relationships following Semis that drives Beca to choose Jesse.

She’s lonely, even lonelier than she’d been after her mom had died. She doesn’t know why exactly, or who she’s missing the most. Thinking about the Bellas is confusing, and she especially doesn’t let herself think about one specific Bella, so it’s easier to tell herself she misses Jesse the most. It’s easy to decide that he’s the one she most needs to mend things with, easy to tell herself that she’s fallen for him. It’s what any other girl in her situation would do, she imagines. She must like him more than she knows, that’s all.

So she runs off the Nationals stage, throws her arms around Jesse’s neck, and kisses him because it feels like what she’s supposed to do in that situation. Kissing Jesse is nice, if a little unremarkable, and his arms feel safe around her. It’s so, so easy, and is totally expected of her.

She shoves aside the twinge of discomfort she feels, the little stirring in her chest whispering that she’d done the wrong thing and does her very best to ignore not only how little she’d actually felt in the kiss but also how grateful she is that Chloe had disappeared from her line of sight. For some reason, she doesn’t want Chloe to see her just then.

Kissing Jesse and later deciding to date him, along with her reunion with the Bellas, eliminates that lonely feeling. Again, she isn’t entirely sure which part of the whole thing – Jesse, the Bellas, or one specific Bella – makes her feel better, and she doesn’t like thinking about it, so she plays it safe and assumes it’s Jesse.

She kisses Jesse because she’s supposed to, because it’s easy, and because any alternative reason for her feelings scares her.

***************

The dam in Beca’s chest cracks, the pressure building and trickling through. If Jesse pushes against it any more, it’s going to burst open and flood the rest of her life. She needs to escape but can’t make herself move; she’s frozen at the door, her brain screaming at her body to run, her body too focused on holding the dam intact to do anything else.

Jesse stands beside her, staring at her pleadingly, but he’s not touching her or even blocking the door.  She wishes he would. She wishes he could give her some excuse to be mad at him, to turn it so that it’s his fault, instead of hers for being broken, for being some kind of freak who falls in love with the wrong person after three years –

“Beca, come on,” Jesse pleads, “don’t just leave. You – you can’t just leave without telling me why two days before we’re supposed to leave for LA. It’s – that’s not fair. Talk to me,” he says, reaching out a tentative hand. She jerks away before he can touch her.

“Hey, woah,” he says softly. “Just, Beca, just talk – what’s happening? Where are you going? What do you think you’re doing?”

The pressure builds and builds and builds until it’s on the tip of her tongue again (I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay) and Beca wants to cover her ears so she doesn’t have to listen to this, to his unending questions and stupid rationality because he doesn’t understand that she needs to get away, she needs to run and hide and not be the horrible person she’s become.

The dam strains, groaning under pressure.

“Beca, my name is on a lease in LA, and you –”

The dam breaks.

“I like girls!”

It bursts free from her mouth before she can stop it, erupting in a torrent and coming out so loud it startles them both.

Jesse cuts himself off abruptly. His jaw freezes open and his eyes fly wide, glazing over until she’s not even sure he still sees her.

“I like… girls,” Beca repeats, because it’s the only thing she can think to say. She’s breathing hard, her heart threatening to smash its way free of her ribcage.

Her body finally catches up with her brain, and she turns the door handle, ready to run. Any second, Jesse’s going to register what she’d said and he’s going to call her a bitch for hiding it from him, or he’s going to recoil in disgust and call her horrible slurs, or he’s going to accuse her of being a pervert for falling for her best friend, or –

“Wait, please,” Jesse says, this time grabbing her arm gently and holding her in place. “Don’t… can we talk about this?”

She could still run. She knows he’d let her go, if she really tried to run. Jesse isn’t a monster. If anyone is a monster here, it’s her.

Beca steps back into the house, stomach rolling. She closes the door carefully, watching as though separated from her body as her hand falls from the handle and back to her side. She’s pretty sure her palms are sweating.

She can’t look at him. Jesse’s right; he deserves an explanation, and besides, the secret is already out there, hanging over them like a storm cloud. She moves robotically to the futon in the main room, sitting on the edge of a cushion. Her hands land on her knees and she digs her nails into the denim of her jeans to ground herself. A moment later, he sinks down next to her, exhaling loudly as he leans back into the couch.

“Bec… how –”

“Are we the only ones here?” she asks tersely.

He pauses, and she pictures him watching her. “Yeah,” he says eventually. “Everyone else is getting ready for the party, I think.”

“Okay,” Beca breathes, fighting to bring the anxiety racing through her body to a manageable level.

“Are you okay?”

“I...  Jesse, I’m…”

“It’s okay,” he whispers. It makes her lips twitch up into a grimace because no, it’s really anything but okay. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”

“I – I like girls,” she says, her eyes darting to his face.

He smiles at her, but not in a mocking way. “You said that,” he says surprisingly gently. Beca doesn’t understand why he’s not yelling at her.

“Right,” she huffs, trying to laugh at herself to ease the tension. The sound that comes out of her is strangled and dies in her throat.

“So are you…” Jesse asks after an awkward pause, his hand gesturing uselessly in midair between them. “Does that make you a, you know, a lesbian? Or, uh, bisexual… or whatever?”

Beca flinches at the use of those labels, discomfort rising in her stomach. She leans forward to cover her face with her hands, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Beca, are you –”

“I don’t know!” she groans through her hands, then pulls back to look at him. “I mean, I guess? I… I don’t know, nothing sounds right and I’m just not sure what to do and I don’t –”

“Wait, did you even like being with me?”

His question hits her like a truck, snatching the wind from her lungs.

“I – Jess...”

He keeps pressing, his eyes earnest. “The whole time we were together, did you even like me?”

Beca’s vision blurs; there’s something pressing on her chest and she can’t talk and she can’t move and she can’t think. The room tilts dangerously and her head swims.

“Breathe, Beca, woah –”

“I don’t know what I am!” she gasps, looking to him with wild eyes. “I don’t know what I felt! I just know I’m not straight!”

“It’s okay –”

“No it��s not!” Beca yells, her voice cracking. “How can you say that? It’s not okay! I’m so sor – I – I don’t want to be like this!”

The shock on his face as he stares at her, eyes wide, is what sends her over the edge; something crumbles within her and she buckles, feeling her face crumple as the first sob tears its way from her throat. Once she starts, she can’t stop even though she feels so stupid for crying in front of Jesse because she’s never done it before. The tears just keep coming, pulling with them her anger and disgust toward herself for being in this situation and putting Jesse through it.

But then, Jesse’s arms wrap around her, so warm and familiar that it shocks her out of her panic; she sinks into him, the angle awkward because of how they’re sitting, but she doesn’t mind. His hands rub up and down her back, trying to calm her, and she presses her face into where his neck meets his shoulder, his familiar Jesse-smell working to send a wave of calm through her. He holds her for a long time, letting her sobs quiet to soft sniffles before he speaks.

“It’s okay,” he breathes, his chin brushing her ear as he speaks. “I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have asked that. Sorry, Beca.”

Beca sniffles again. She can already feel the post-crying headache starting behind her forehead.

“Am I the first person you’ve told?” Jesse asks quietly.

She nods against his shoulder, drawing in a whimpering breath.

It makes Jesse pull her even tighter against his chest. Beca can’t believe he’s doing this, can’t believe that after everything, he’s the one comforting her. She can’t believe he even wants to touch her after what she’d said.

“Beca,” he says after a minute, his voice tight and rumbling through his chest. “Did I ever… make you do something you didn’t want to do?”

She pulls back from the hug to look at him properly. He’s apologetic, as if he already regrets asking, his face all scrunched up with worry.

Blinking in surprise, Beca replies, “No, Jess, I did…I liked being with you, and you didn’t… you never did anything like that.” She shrugs. “You’re one of my best friends and I do love you, it’s just…”

“Not in that way?” he asks, shrugging one shoulder and quirking a corner of his mouth up.

“Right,” she nods, “I’m s–”

“It’s okay,” he says before she can apologize. “Really. I kind of… sort of, think this was going to happen either way, you know?”

Beca’s winces as she thinks of the past year, during which they spoke maybe a total of three times while he was on campus. When he was in LA, their calls had been few and far in-between. She shrugs, reality settling in, and nods in reluctant agreement.

Jesse smiles at her crookedly, his eyes moving to the floor. “So, uh,” he starts hesitantly, “why didn’t you – how long have you known this about yourself?”

“I… not long,” Beca says, shifting on the futon, hoping he won’t ask her anything else about it; she doesn’t want to risk Chloe’s name leaving her lips. Thankfully, he just nods, looking thoughtful. After a moment, he sits back on the futon and turns his head to look at her sideways.

“It doesn’t really change anything, you know,” he says with a little grin.

Beca has to take a second to make sure she’d heard him right. “What do you mean?” she asks, confused. “It changes everything.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t offer any clarification.

“Jesse, weren’t you listening?” she asks, leaning forward. “I’m not – I can’t go to LA with you. We aren’t dating anymore. Don’t you –”

“I don’t mean that,” Jesse interrupts, waving her down dismissively. “I mean, like – you’re still you. I still care about you.”

Beca pauses, stunned that he could say such a thing. To her horror, her eyes prickle again and she looks away, trying to blink back the sensation before he notices.

“Where will you go, if not LA?”

His question distracts her and makes her look back at him.

“Oh, um. Well, Emily takes over the house on August… 15th?” Beca replies slowly, thinking it through even as she speaks. “So I guess I’ll stay there, maybe look for jobs until then.”

He nods, thinking over her answer. Beca runs her tongue over the front of her teeth; it hadn’t occurred to her, but she would need to start applying for jobs in… somewhere. A different kind of worry rocks her stomach at how uncertain her future has become; it’s the beginning of June, and as of August 15th, she’ll be homeless and jobless. She has enough in her savings to not need a job until the end of summer, but after that, she’s going to need an income and a place to live.

“You could still come to LA,” Jesse says, interrupting Beca’s thoughts.

“Oh, I… want to figure things out here,” Beca replies, hoping she sounds more confident than she feels. Technically, Jesse’s right. She could still go to LA with him, but as friends, and find a job there like she’d always intended to. But the thought of leaving Chloe behind right when she’s figuring this out about herself rips through her painfully and she immediately discards any residual thought of LA.

Jesse shifts his weight on the futon, not quite meeting her eyes as he asks, “Is, uh, Chloe staying?”

Sometimes it kind of scares Beca how well he can read her. She can only nod, afraid to give herself away, and he just hums in response, the corners of his mouth twitching.

A natural pause falls over the room. Beca inhales deeply, reveling in the freedom of the moment; the pressure in her chest is almost nonexistent, at least for now.

“So, uh,” Jesse starts, and Beca has to stop herself from groaning; he’s using the same tone of voice he always uses before making a horrible joke. “I, uh, since we’re not together anymore, I guess this means I’m off the hook for having a crush on Keira Knightley?”

Beca blows out a stream of air through her nose, a soft laugh escaping against her will even as she shakes her head. Beside her, Jesse laughs too, bumping his shoulder into hers. Then, he freezes abruptly and grabs her shoulder.

“Wait!” he exclaims, eyes wide. “Oh my god. Do you have a crush on Keira Knightley, too?”

Even though Beca knows he’s kidding, the joke hits a little too close to home and the smile slips off her face slowly.

“Would it be weird if I did?” she asks carefully, watching Jesse out of the corner of her eye. “Like, that makes me feel a little… pervy.”

She tries to keep her tone light enough that Jesse could laugh or brush it off as a joke, but the way he looks at her, all soft eyes and a single line forming between his eyebrows, she can tell he recognizes her statement for what it really is.

“That’s not perving, Bec,” he shrugs. “That’s just… having eyes and being human. Keira Knightley is like something out of this world. That’s just fact.”

A corner of his mouth lifts into a half smile, and Beca can tell he’s kidding, but also not kidding at the same time. It makes something loosen within her and she relaxes, feeling better about something she hadn’t even realized was bothering her until that moment.

“Thanks, Jess,” she says gratefully.

He grins at her, and replies, “I got you. You know, you should talk to Cynthia Rose,” he adds, almost an afterthought.

“Huh?” she asks, thrown by the shift.

Jesse frowns. “Isn’t Cynthia Rose gay? Or whatever? She’s got that girlfriend, I thought.”

“Fiancée,” Beca corrects automatically, then pauses. “I… yeah.”

“Oh my god,” Jesse gapes at her in disbelief. “Are you telling me you actually – you forgot you have someone who knows what you’re going through? Like, in the Bellas with you?”

“I didn’t forget,” Beca replies defensively, crossing her arms. “I just… well, I thought, you know, with Worlds and everything, I didn’t want to add…” Beca trails off when Jesse’s expression becomes a little too knowing.

“Okay!” she admits, throwing her hands up. “Fine! I didn’t want anyone to know, okay! Happy?” she huffs, re-crossing her arms.

“No, I’m not happy!” Jesse says, though he’s still smiling a little. Beca’s really starting to hate that stupid, sympathetic look on his face. “You were gonna keep this a secret for… forever?” he asks incredulously.

She can’t quite meet his eyes.

“Christ,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look,” he says carefully, “you don’t have to go through this alone, Beca. You could tell her. You could tell all of them, actually,” he adds gently.

Beca shrugs, refusing to look at him. The unwelcome pressure is back in her chest now, and building, fighting against a new dam.

“They won’t think of you any differently,” Jesse speaks so quietly, it’s almost a whisper. “I promise.”

Beca can only stare at her knees. She digs the nails of one hand into the opposite arms where she has them crossed. The wall between her and Jesse might be gone now, but the wall between her and the Bellas feels thicker and sturdier than ever.

“You should talk to Cynthia Rose. It might help,” Jesse prompts once more, then adds, his tone brighter, “Besides, you’ll need someone to hang out with once I blow this popsicle stand for the sunshine of LA!”

She snorts at that and punches his shoulder, grateful for the lighter mood. He yelps in mock pain and glares at her playfully, rubbing his shoulder dramatically.

Beneath the theatrics, though, Beca can still see her Jesse. Despite everything, he looks at her the same way he always does. She wonders if, just maybe, everything might be okay.

[corseque]

The last song we hear after finishing Inquisition (not taking into account Trespasser) is called Rise

[rahulagawane123]

Future of digital marketing in india

India, a densely populated country with a population of 1,339,180,127 (as of July 2017) is ranked second in the world. There are plenty of opportunities for people every minute. And when we tell digital marketing, then remember that in the coming years the potential of digital marketing in India and the future reach of digital marketing will become clearer. A mobile phone has become everybody's fundamental requirement.

Even if your mom wants to try a new recipe, she's probably using YouTube to get the jot down on what's needed and how to do it. And the wave in digital marketing is definitely on the rise when it comes to business.

Everybody wants to increase the scope of their products and services via the internet. These are some main benefits relative to traditional marketing that render this marketing strategy more effective and inexpensive.

India will have about 500 million internet users by June 2018, according to a report (by the Internet and Mobile Association of India (IAMAI)). This will generate a tremendous business opportunity for a growing population of tech-savvy internet users to offer services and products.

Let's list the reasons why digital marketing's future in India will be brilliant.

Traditional marketing changes dramatically -

The former traditional marketing range was limited to door-to-door ads and mouth advertising. Marketers used to use physical energy to promote their products. But now citizens want everything at their disposal with the changing times.

And satisfying customer needs is the highest priority of any company. So the digital marketing phenomenon has taken off a couple of years ago. Now that you can search even the slightest thing on the internet. The digital marketing phenomenon is really being gagged by citizens and advertisers.

How was real estate strategy earlier? It was mostly via posters or print media. But now, these real estate companies choose to sell their blissful homes to their consumers through the digital platform. Engaging the material is now their motto to be effective.

When we glance at Hiranandani's Facebook page's above screenshot then it is clearly visible that the real estate giant threatens people with real-time images. When customers can see the product's exact images, they'd like to purchase it.In this sense, we can all easily see the contrast between how a drastic change has been seen through traditional marketing. Yet digital marketing has taken control absolutely.

The new name is Digital

Digital marketing is favoured by everyone in the country over everything else. Also launch-ups start their business through digital marketing. This platform enhances every company's operation. The company does not have to use the workers to actively market the product.

It offers a wide range of marketing channels and media that are cultural, effective and contemporary. Each product and service category now opts for digital marketing solutions. Since they know this is the validated platform. On the digital platform, from tech giants to hoteliers.

The business owners are not always selling their commodity. Using different facts, they try to engage with their viewers. Above is a screenshot of Nashik, Maharashtra's renowned Pav Bhaji spot. As a small-scale hotelier, they choose the alternative of digital marketing to reach out to a larger group of people. This is not details on their company to the public. But instead, they shared some engaging content that the audience would be involved in. These strategies are working a lot these days for the advertisers.

Government’s “Digital India” initiative backs up

The Government of India has initiated the Digital India initiative with the aim of turning India into a digitally connected community and knowledge economy in order to turn the entire ecosystem of public services through the use of information technology.

Now, not only in metro cities, but also in small towns, there are possibilities. The framework for jobs services has also been established by the government. These days, everything is interactive. Yeah, if we're dreaming about digital marketing job in India, you're in the right place. Stop discussing the options to figure out what benefits it has.

The e-marketplace of the government is also seeing a significant rise in its comparative graphs of the e-marketplace. There have been slight variations in all the registrations. The variations exist everywhere. Indian people are slowly adapting to the technologies and it will take some time to get to know it.

All this means that if a helping hand is also offered by the state, then why ignore it! Government is planning several initiatives for the country's youth under the new India initiative.

Indian Prime Minister declared that more than 20 Lakhs will be available for students on the digital space by 2020. In addition, several companies joined hands with the government during the start of Internet India week to render e-India a reality.

Connection to global markets -

"Being physical is being global" is being said today. And that's the facts. You can touch the community of any corner of the world via digital platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, LinkedIn. The scope of these sites for social media is so wide that you can now interact with almost everyone.

Most people do business in India whose target audience is the United States alone. But social media can do anything. Most American companies often choose Indian Digital Marketing Agencies to manage their social media campaigns.

In other terms, in India's digital marketing room, a lot is happening. Most people talk about it and are still looking for it.

Institutions conducting classes on digital marketing

Most companies are now providing a practical approach to degree courses in digital marketing.

The Mudra Communication Institute is India's largest communication learning institution. For digital marketing, the college offers a certification program. It also offers branding and advertising courses. A curriculum involving digital marketing is being developed by many other colleges.

Even many digital marketing companies now have their own academy in which prospective students are taught digital marketing. It's as simple as having to have a good supply when there's need. Demand for digital marketing is on the rise and suggestions for educating the students are coming up to those who learn.

Small towns getting digitally equipped

Metros become part of the digital economy now. But now that digital marketing's reach is increasing, cities and towns are also becoming highly connected to digital media.

Most companies are founded in small towns to hit the global audience via social media.

If we take an example of ScoopWhoop online portal, it was founded in August 2013 in Delhi by Sattvik Mishra and five others. Yet they began immediately the way they published their material and posted it on social media. Everyone in the world is a fan of the content generated by this web portal. Now, with over 1000 likes on each post, they are completely achieved on social media.

Affordable

Digital marketing is one of the most economical media to promote the commodity relative to other advertisement outlets. The days have gone by when one spent thousands and lakhs n having the newspaper ad written. It's become so simple with digital media. If you are a real estate company, by meeting thousands of people at one point, you will advertise your new project on social media.

It hardly takes only 40 per day to build an ad on Facebook, which is nothing. The average cost is between 0.52 and 0.2.3 per press. Good outcomes can be obtained by investing lakhs of rupees on a single ad and paying only $40 a day.

Higher rate of interaction

Since people use social media extensively for everything, the levels of interaction should be higher. People require premium material to be educated and amused. Virtual advertisers are therefore responsible for generating information that informs the consumer.

Through sharing creative content on the Facebook page, the online food delivery service maintains the user focused all the time. Their page is all about cooking, but they make it so fun that without clicking the like icon, you can't drag it down.

So the bottom line is, you're going to be a big success on the digital platform if you're innovative.

The number of internet users is rising

The graph above clearly says it all. There were 259 million users using the internet in 2015, rising to 331 million in 2017. It was estimated that by 2022 the number of internet users will be increased. This is because in the coming years, citizens will be heavily dependent on the internet, the pace at which the world is rising in terms of everything.

Increased market sales for internet classifieds

It has also been projected that wireless categorized sales will be five times higher than it was in 2015. The maximum sales in the 2020 financial year will be about ~23 billion.

In the world of digital marketing, all sales will double by 2020. To position yourself in the driving seat, thus, all Indian enterprise must be well-worsened with digital marketing to represent the country on the global marketplace. Not only companies, but candidates looking for a career opportunity in this field will find work lakhs in nearly every area.

The reach for digital marketing grows broader. As the most powerful way of selling in the future, digital marketing must continue.But as the complexities of digital marketing shift every day, a digital marketer has to be flexible, warn, knowledgeable, and respond to the latest changes. Not only that, today's and tomorrow's digital advertisers may have to predict developments and introduce them faster than the change actually occurs, so take advantage of it.

So if you felt you should or should not, it's the right time for you to go digital

[brawlstars-aus]

Brawl Stars Superhero AU

In the sprawling city of Retropolis rests the Brawl District, a section of the city that contains the biggest concentration of heroes and villains in the area. Not only that, but it also has the greatest history of wars between heroes and villains alike, more than any other area in the country.

Though the rest of Retropolis is mostly normal, the Brawl District has also been the target of unmentionable chaos. Apartment buildings and alleyways flooded by plants, magical energy causing robots to go haywire, heroes being brought back from the dead... and all of this is being kept under control by merely one person: The Sheriff from Brawl HQ, fighting to keep order in place!

Though 4 different factions have formed within the city, the two most powerful have declared a silent war, and it’s up to the other two plus the outcasts to decide who they will side with to finish the conflict once and for all.

Who will come out victorious is up to you to decide.

Meet: Brawl HQ

Under the (rather uncreative) alias of “The Sheriff”, Colt Junker is the leader of Brawl HQ. After Pam Junker had stepped down from her position as lead, the HQ has been headed by The Sheriff with a sole goal of stopping crime and returning order to the city. More specifically, stop The Star’s Order, before control of the city is lost to necromancy and magic.

Being headed by engineering prodigy Jessie Junker, more formally known as Miss Gatling Phaser, all suits created are incredibly high-tech as if brought directly from a science fiction movie. They also have a numerous arsenal of melee weapons, guns, and specialized suits to be used by the HQ’s allies. If only Colt actually knew how to use all of them properly.

Brawl HQ is the oldest superhero faction in Retropolis that’s still standing today, first founded under the name “Scrapyard HQ” by Delilah Junker and her 15-year old granddaughter Pam Junker as a mechanic shop. The shop stayed for years, and after nearly a decade, Pam got together with her now ex-husband. With him, she had two kids, Colt and Jessie, until he started changing. He was no longer the kind, strong man that Pam had fallen in love with. So they separated.

Pam struggled while being a single mother. Her grandmother Delilah had passed away by that point, and she was just barely able to keep herself afloat with Scrapyard HQ. A new opportunity had been sparked, though. Her son Colt had begun a paid internship at the city’s police department, and her daughter had unveiled a secret project she had been working on for some time- a flexible superhero suit that “Colt could wear to his new job to stay safe!”

Upon the rise of new supervillains in the Brawl District, the city became unsafe. Scrapyard HQ had to be shut down due to a lack of activity, since the supervillains relied on magic. This was when Colt proposed that Scrapyard HQ become a place for heroes. With Jessie’s incredible engineering skill, Pam’s leadership and Colt’s sense of justice, they have teamed together to make Colt the first hero the Brawl District has had in 7 years when the last of the heroes moved out.

Colt now fights for a better town- a better city! But when everybody else outside of Brawl HQ is against him, who can he trust as an ally?

Allies: The Sheriff (Colt), Jetspring (Jessie), Overhaul (Pam)

Jetspring’s Androids: Barley, Rico(chet), Darryl, Carl Geologarithm (”Geo”)

Meet: The Star’s Order

May also be written “The Stars’ Order” or simply “Star’s Order”.

United under the art of magic, The Stars’ Order is a faction devoted to tarot cards and prophecies of the future. It has various members, but most reside under the co-rule of Omen and Graveheart, a tag-team duo of magic wielders who wish to bring heroes back to life to fight against the world of evil once again. Although Graveheart holds title as figurehead and acts as the leader for most of the group’s projects, Omen is the one that holds most of the team’s magical ability.

They weren’t well known, but that was intentional. They were both concerned for the world, in fear for it being lost to global warming, widespread pollution, and deforestation. And all of those tied down to one thing- humanity’s reliance of industrialization. In search of a cure, they found it within their own hands- they could reteach humanity the lost art of magic and the arcane. But they needed a key into society’s heart. What was something that humans wished for, and craved, more than anything? Caused by the greatest tragedy known to man? And how could they do this most effectively?

Easy. Their greatest tragedy was death, and their greatest wish was to bring the dead back to life. They could do this most effectively by literally bringing their superheroes back to life. Then, they could return to fight for peace. Then, they could save the world. Then, they could show humanity that magic wasn’t so bad.

Necromancy had already been in study before, and although was old, was not well developed. When a sort of magic does not exist, you research until you can invent it. And they reinvented necromancy.

After years of research and study, heroes that had perished and been mourned have returned once more. Sure, it required a bit of body-smuggling, not too hard for a mortician, and the fortune teller warned that there was a great percent chance of failure, but they had already fine-tuned the magic to the best of their ability. If they could get anything at all, then they would have been lucky anyway.

Thus, started the ritual. And it worked. Almost.

When they returned the hero Frank to the world, the magic had not worked as perfectly as they’d hoped, and he had returned disfigured into the shape of a hulking giant, mind degraded to that of an orc. But it was something, so they showed off their somewhat-success to the media. But the public grew angry. He didn’t give his consent to return to life as a monster! 

But they tried again anyway, because maybe, this time they could create something worthy of retribution.

They returned the once-loved late hero Poco to the world, and nearly succeeded, except for the fact that Poco had returned sans of memory or even flesh, being nothing more than a skeleton of a hero. This was when the public had enough, and The Star’s Order was finally forced into hiding due to media outrage and backlash.

Furthermore, Brawl HQ has decided to track them down in hopes to eventually reveal their identities and put them behind bars for their “injustice” towards these heroes. The Star’s Order is not going to sit back and simply fall, though.

The Star’s Order have finally decided to become the villains the public saw in them, and thus started Project: Villainize.

But some undead heroes don’t want to be villains.

...

With outfits based from magic, Omen and Graveheart’s outfits are morphable at will and their limitations solely rely on the user’s magic capacity. For all other allies, outfits hold no magical properties. (Except Gene, who is entirely made of magic, including outfit.)

Allies: Omen (Tara), Graveheart (Mortis)

"Allies”: Gene, Frank, Calavera Canticum (Poco)

Meet: The Sisterhood

Although being called “The Sisterhood”, some people are somehow still surprised that the leader, named “La Bandita”, is female. Named a ‘demi-hero’, La Bandita’s costume is just her casual clothes, and her only superpowers are her quick wit and incredible shotgun skills.

Once being simply an alias for Shelly, it has grown into the largest gang in the city, and has become powerful enough to reside in the Brawl District unscathed, even when none of its members hold any powers.

When it was smaller, The Sisterhood could have been regarded as a mafia. Stolen objects sold on the black market, holding hostages and ruining the lives of any who La Bandita saw as corrupt. Then she recruited the biker gang of her once-rival Bull, and helped the man start a restaurant of his own, to which he repaid through his unwavering loyalty.

Ever since, she has recruited her cousin El Primo, who said “it sounded like a fun club!” and Penny, who was knowledgeable in engineering and working with gunpowder. Occasionally, she’d be visited by her relative Rosa who needed help with a certain invasion of plants in her apartment, and sometimes in the middle of the night, would find a particular barrel-bodied robot requesting help on how to improve his shotgunning skills.

La Bandita has since stopped a large portion of the crime she commits, though has never gotten less dangerous. Simply put, she recognizes the power she has now, and has decided that it’ll be best if saved for any time she or anyone in the Sisterhood is ever crossed. For now, she doesn’t need the wealth found in crime. Rather, she has found wealth in the closely knit family that is The Sisterhood.

Although some members of The Sisterhood may use aliases to disguise their true names, a good portion do not.

Sisterhood: La Bandita (Shelly), Bulldozer (Bull), Bibi, Crow, El Primo, Penny

Meet: Alliance of the Eagles

The destruction of nature was a terrible thing. When the city was first initiated, the ancestral land was defiled with smoke and city lights. What was once a sea of grassland was turned to a wasteland of concrete. When Bo moved into the city, he wasn’t trying to get away from home. He was trying to bring home with him. And he recruited friends and family to help.

It was because of the Alliance of the Eagles that life began to grow again in the city. Ivy across the brick walls, clovers budding between sidewalk tiles, flowers bringing just the slightest glimmer of color in the labyrinth of desaturated desolation. It was all thanks to a faint, constant aura of magical energy from somewhere within the Brawl District that acted as a fertilizer and helped the plants grow. He didn’t think much of it at first.

It was when the returns started happening. Magical energy burst across the district like an undetectable shockwave, feeling like nothing more than a gust of wind, but its effects were drastic. The plants Bo had brought to transplant into the area begun to grow rapidly. Too rapidly. His apartment was taken over by weeds and vines, and the botanist downstairs had to have a rescue mission issued for her, as she was caged in by an entire horde of flora. Even then, the botanist didn’t make it out without a face half permanently covered in flowers, and two new living cactuses.

So Bo gave up plants. It was time to try out animals. Instead of a city-wide project that could end up in flooded alleyways like the previous project had, he tried something smaller. As the apartment building was overtaken by plants, obeying a little “no animals” policy suddenly seemed like a very minor offense. He encouraged those in the Alliance of Eagles to start hosting their favorite animal in their apartment, which to Nita’s question, “was allowed to be a bear”.

All was well, and all tenants were actually happier with their animal companions. Despite the creatures mostly being from the wild, they were “oddly” calm. He kept an eagle in his own room, and frequently visited Nita and Leon, who were keeping a bear and a “cool color-changing lizard” in their rooms respectively. He also saw his apartment neighbor Crowley Sharpe quite often, who unsurprisingly kept a crow, and they had many pleasing talks about birds.

Bo frequently believed in animal-related omens, but when his eagle had flown away that day, he was naive enough not to think of it as a sign. Then, merely a few hours later, the second wave hit. A graze of magic energy, and suddenly a young child horrified and screaming in agonizing terror, because his skin was beginning to change color in different places without an understanding why. His friend around the same age suddenly unable to speak in anything other than basic noises, but being able to imitate a bear perfectly. And his birdwatching neighbor, literally losing all of his humanity in favor of jet-black feathers, a beak, and fulfilling his name. Downstairs, ecstatic shouts of being able to “hear the plants speaking!”

Bo lead a team of environmental activists who fought for nature into becoming nature themselves. Whether a blessing or a curse, Bo now has more power than ever to bring Mother Nature back to the asphalt-cursed Retropolis- but first, perhaps he should seek out whoever caused the dyad of unfortunate events to occur. Maybe then he could earn back the respect of Leon and Crow, who had left the team in belief having become monsters. Until he does, he will have lost his humanity as much as they.

Allies: Eagle 1 (Bo), Barbearian (Nita), Lady of Flowers (Rosa), Spike

Ex-Allies: Colorcode (Leon), Crow

Meet: The Outcasts

The outcasts, the wildcards, the ticking time bombs... all of those refer to The Outcasts.

Although most outcasts have been given a home in The Sisterhood (which are almost outcasts in themselves), some outcasts are truly outcasts. Some may be dangerous (Viperella), some may just be annoying graffiti artists (Colorcode), and some could even be friendly (Sonic Boom), but either way, caution should be held when any faction approaches them. They may have biases, but those could change with the snap of a neck.

Outcasts: Colorcode (Leon), Viperella (Piper), Sonic Boom (Brock), DynaMIKE!

Heroes and villains according to faction. Some members may be more or less mixed, indicated by a dot. May be changed up in the future.

Find all my posts for this topic here!

This was a fun AU to write, and is also my first offciial AU! It’s a big bunch of ideas I’ve had stirring around for a while, all being able to be smashed into one giant alternate universe! (If I run out of ideas, I’ll change my name to brawl-stars-superhero-au. It’s not a high school AU though so I’m not changing just yet!)

Feel free to write for this AU, send in your asks about it, add your OCs, and put your own twists! <3

EDIT (6/23/19): Changed Jessie’s name from Gatling Phaser to Eludia Jetspring. (I’m indecisive.)

[warsmith-wolf]

The Aitnaîan Son

I wrote this at work in an unexpected flash of inspiration - especially considering I haven’t done anything with Warsmith Damakairon in a while. Beware, it’s a long one...

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.

- Ancient manuscript of Old Terra

The Plain of Kalypheros

Olympia

849.M30

His name was Damakairon, first son of the Tyrant of Aitnaîos, and he was honoured to be here.

The boy, of fine Olympian stock born and bred, was one of thousands of young males present at the gathering – ranging from the prepubescent to the mid-teens. Having passed his Naming Ceremony on his sixteenth birthday only two weeks prior, Damakairon was considered practically venerable by the strict limits of the gathering’s age band, and his taller frame afforded him great vision over the heads of his juniors.

The Olympian youths – volunteered and tithed alike – had been gathered in a massive amphitheatre built specifically for this purpose, all facing a platform at its end. They shivered in their chitons in the morning breeze, awaiting judgement from their prospective masters – giant warriors in dull grey armour, accented in jet black and trimmed in bronze, stationed all around the perimeter with bulky rifles. Leering skulls sat on the left shoulder of each warrior, resplendent in silver, and a banner of their insignia fluttered above the crowd, as if marking everyone within it as their sovereign property.

They were, of course. And Damakairon would have it no other way.

The Warlord of Lochos had received mandate from a golden being – called only ‘the Emperor’, apparently – to embark on some unknown, great venture, and had granted him an army of superhuman warriors to command. It was for this army that the Olympian youths had been selected, intended as reinforcements from the homeworld of their ‘prime-mark’, and the recruiting standards for the ‘Astartes Legion’ had been sent to every city-state, every satrap.

None refused the summons. It was always so with the word of the Warlord of Lochos, unifier of Olympia.

At some unknown signal, the giant warriors turned to face the stage, which prompted the children – Damakairon amongst them – to turn with them, wondering what was about to occur. Great footsteps resounded on the amphitheatre’s flooring, precise, far heavier than any human’s, and the mysterious arrival was soon revealed to be none other than the Warlord himself.

Perturabo. The Lord of Iron. Fourth son of the Emperor.

Damakairon was awestruck by his majesty, the many legends around the nature of Dammekos’ progeny now proven utterly true – and he was not alone in his marvelling. The primarch was taller even than the giant warriors, resplendent in powered armour that mimicked the shape of their own – the distant forefather of what he would later perfect into the Logos. His head was bare, not yet threaded with the network of cabling it would soon acquire, his face heavy set and his gaze cold and indifferent. He wasted no time with flowery introductions or ceremony.

“Progeny of Olympia,” he proclaimed, “you are here to become one of the Emperor’s warriors. You are here to become Astartes, and join the ranks of the Fourth Legion.”

His voice was as thunder, a peal of force that carried to the very end of the amphitheatre without need of technological enhancement. The demigod’s tone begat neither martial brotherhood nor paternal affection. A more reasonable man would have noticed this.

But Damakairon was in the presence of the Lord of Iron. Reason had long since left him, replaced with spellbound admiration. To listen to a demigod was to be enraptured completely.

“This Legion, however, has failed,” the Iron Lord boomed, “brought low by its own blind desire for glory. The galaxy is unforgiving, and cares not for such trifles. I judged them for their failures in the Olympian way.”

The word, unspoken, ghosted across the Olympian youth’s lips. Decimation. The one recourse for troops that failed to meet their standards.

“I have taught them the consequences of blind glory-seeking. You will not make their mistake.” Perturabo coldly surveyed the neophytes before him, thousands of youths caught under his every word. “You will not break, you will not bend, you will not give. You will be as Iron, and will ensure the Fourth Legion never again shames the Emperor’s vision.”

Damakairon felt pride well up in his chest. He had been chosen to return honour to the great Perturabo’s Legion. Perturabo, unifier of Olympia, the mythical prodigy of Lochos. And now he would be taking his unification beyond Olympia – to the very stars themselves – with Damakairon alongside him.

He could see others reacting to the Iron Lord’s words in subtly different ways. Some were like himself, proud and eager to prove themselves worthy of Perturabo’s vision. Others were fixated on the promise of becoming mighty warriors, as Rakator or Eidrachos of old. The rest he could not judge, either from distance or lack of comprehension, but one thing united them – they were all enthralled by the Lord of Iron’s words, passionless though they were.

“Many of you will die. The implantation and training processes are not forgiving. But you will emerge even more so. You shall become the iron within, and the iron without.”

A low murmur crossed the crowd. Iron within. Iron without.

The primarch’s tone remained coldly neutral. “Kneel.”

The noise of thousands of initiates kneeling as one was as a low rumble, as if the earth itself sought to obey the primarch’s command. Damakairon had not even time to think, his body moving without his input – the Lord of Iron had commanded it, and so it had been.

“It is Olympian tradition to swear fealty to your Tyrant – one I shall entertain, one last time.” There was the slightest hint of sorrow in that proclamation, as if the primarch was leaving behind something he could never again experience. “Do you swear undying loyalty to your lord, Perturabo, and my father, the Emperor?”

The response was unanimous and thunderous. “We swear, my lord!”

“Do you pledge to undertake the Emperor’s great vision for mankind – his Great Crusade – until the very stars themselves burn out?”

“We swear, my lord!” Even louder. Even more eager. Damakairon’s heart swelled in his chest.

“And do you swear to become the very best the Emperor’s gene-science can make you – his unbreakable warriors of iron?”

“Iron! Iron! Iron!” The noise was deafening and his throat was hoarse, yet Damakairon did not care. He would not – could not – deny the Warlord of Lochos’ wishes.

“Then rise,” Perturabo spoke amongst the thunder of thousands rising at once, “Iron Warriors.”

The cheer was furious, if brief, the tired voices of the assembled children choking out at last. Damakairon stared at his new liege-lord – his new father – and swore to himself that he would dedicate his life to seeing the Lord of Iron’s dreams fulfilled, no matter the cost.

And he would do so, thousands of years later, even when the dream had long since died in the primarch’s tumultuous mind, lost to the fires of war and betrayal. For his word was as iron, and iron is eternal.

  Aitnaîos, Olympian City-State

The twelfth day of the death of Olympia

000.M31

Alone on his throne, the Tyrant of Aitnaîos awaits the end.

His throne room is empty, his helots having long since fled to safehouses in the palace that they believe will save them from their fate. But the tyrant is no fool. He knows that the fury Olympia has brought down upon itself cannot be hidden from, for they have incurred the wrath of one who will never be stopped.

Their own lost, bitter children. The warriors in iron.

He hears them now, the distant thunder of shells and rifles, looming ever closer. Aitnaîos burns, and the Aitnaîan Keep will soon fall under the guns of the Legion. The smell of burning, flesh and stone alike, has already permeated the palace. Even now, the tyrant’s city crumbles under the orders of the one who once saw it prosper.

The Warlord of Lochos. Perturabo.

Neither the Penthuik League nor the Achean Hexopolis call the Tyrant of Aitnaîos friend, for he remains one of the few who gladly gave his sons to the Legion. So it was with his father, and his mother before him, and her mother, and her father, all the way back to his great-great-great grandmother, who gave her finest son to the newly arrived Iron Warriors. The tyrant reflects bitterly on this as he awaits his final judgement, for he knows that his loyalty will amount to nothing – the Lord of Iron will spare no-one.

They come for him on the ninth hour of Aitnaîos burning.

They are clad in armour the size of small tanks – Terminator armour, though the tyrant knows this not. Stubby, fat-barrelled twin-rifles sit in their hands, each holding an oversized fist at their sides, one carrying a smoking flame projector the size of a mortal man. There are five such warriors, smeared in soot and the blood of his people, the sixth – their leader, perhaps – wearing a chain-threaded cloak over his armour’s back. His combi-bolter rests on a jig atop his suit, for in his grip sits a mighty war maul, taller even than its wielder and capped with a jagged, wall-crushing head. The warriors identify the Tyrant, and their guns – still smoking from encountering the last of his helots – aim at him.

The Tyrant quietly accepts his death. But it does not come. Instead, the chain-cloaked warrior removes his helmet to reveal an achingly familiar face, albeit one changed by gene-enhancement and the rigors of war, one half a machine-cast mockery of the other.

Damakairon of Aitnaîos, the first-born son of a tyrant long since dead, looks sadly upon the ruin of his ancient home, and his mother’s distant descendant.

“I remember this place.” It pains him to do so, though the memories are so, so distant. “Filled with noise, with life.”

“And now look.” The tyrant has found his voice, bitter and accusatory, incensed that fate has mocked him so. “You return to your home as an executioner. The only noises you bring are those of death. There is no life here, not now. You have seen to that.”

The transhuman nods. The action is slow, deliberate. “It pains me, but it is necessary. The Lord of Iron’s word is unbreakable. His vision-“

“The Lord of Iron has murdered millions! Desecrated the ancient pact of Eirene! He slaughters all without restraint, uncaring of their loyalty.” The tyrant stands, dwarfed by his throne. “And I am loyal!”

“For the land to be rebuilt anew, all that is corrupted must first burn.” Damakairon measures his words carefully. “But it will be rebuilt, grander and more beautiful than ever before. You have my word.”

“Your word?” The tyrant snarls, yet still will not step away from his throne, either from cowardice or stubbornness. “Your word is the word of a madman! The Warlord of Lochos spoke to my ancestors – your family – of peace. Where is that peace, Iron Warrior? Where is his vision of peace now?”

The terminators flanking Damakairon bristle at the insult, their weapons raising ever so slightly. The captain remains taciturn, considering his response. When he does, there is sorrow in his tone.

“It is gone from his mind, aye. But not mine. I will finish his dream, even if he no longer remembers it. Aitnaîos will survive – if not on Olympia, then somewhere else. This I promise you.”

The tyrant growls what will be his last benediction through gritted teeth. “Gods curse you, son of Perturabo! Whatever bastardised vision of this place you cling to, I am glad I will not live to see it raised from its ashes!”

He is correct. He was never going to survive.

Damakairon smiles weakly, the left side of his face still cast into its mechanical death mask. “And for that, I am truly sorry.”

The Tyrant of Aitnaîos dies under the cold white light of the moon filtering in through the glass roof of his throneroom, the lamps long since extinguished. There is no ritual execution, no undertaking of custom. Mass reactive rounds hammer the mortal into his throne and turn him into a fine mist from the waist upwards, torn from his mortal coil before he can even take another breath. In this, the captain is merciful. He has ensured the death of his home was quick, at least.

And from death, he will rebuild. But not here. Not on Olympia.

Captain Damakairon turns away from the throne as the heavy flamer begins to burn what remains, catching a whiff of the smell of burnt flesh before his helmet locks re-engage. The old Aitnaîos dies with its tyrant, wrack and ruin under the boots of the vengeful Fourth Legion. But eventually, as all slaughters inevitably do, this will come to pass.

And then – only then – can he begin his great work.

Former Imperial colony of Carthago

Iron Warriors-controlled stronghold world

999.M41

The throneroom resounds to the work of heavy winches. The sound reflects off polished stone and reinforced glass, the architectural style of the great Olympian masons fused with the defensive techniques of Perturabo’s legion. It is not a greatly welcoming place, but it is beautiful in its own, regal way. And what good is a throneroom without a throne?

It is being lowered into place now, the winches straining under its weight. The last surviving relic of old Aitnaîos, repaired and upgraded with the finest command suites the cybernetic artisans of the 204th Grand Battalion can provide. It is locked into place with great care, snaking lengths of cabling disappearing underneath a hole in the floor, sealed away as the throne is welded into place. With its fastening, the throneroom – and by extension, the entire keep – is complete, save for one more piece.

If a throneroom without a throne is no use, what good is a throne without a Tyrant?

He has watched the work with great care, and has intervened himself on many occasions to add his own personal touch to proceedings. This entire operation is his masterwork, decades of rebuilding an entire world from scratch, a world of equal parts form and function. It is the apex of a promise he made nine millennia ago to a father who no longer remembers either him or his oath, and a tyrant who died cursing his name. Though hundreds of wars, thousands of battles, and millions of corpses now lie between him and that day in a dead palace under the light of a bleak moon, the warrior’s word is as iron.

And iron, as they say, is eternal.

The mighty warlord, clad in Terminator armour as fearsome and ancient as he, and wielding a mace reforged with metal salvaged from Aitnaîos’ fall, approaches his throne. The path is flanked by his most loyal brothers – his Basilikos, Terminators one and all. They chant his name as he passes with respect, for they all share in his vision, and now that vision is under their very feet. The warlord sits upon his throne, and in his dark majesty it fits him perfectly. Through mud, blood, and iron has the warlord fought to claim this as his own – first the battalion, now this planet. He has not simply rebuilt his city – he has rebuilt a world in its image, a world that now bears its name.

Warsmith Damakairon, the first Tyrant of Aitnaîos in nine thousand years, master of the Aitnaîan Keep, Lord of the 204th Grand Battalion, gazes upon the capital of his domain from inside his ironclad keep, atop his ancient throne.

And it is all to the good.

[captainbaneberry]

Some Sunder/Froid, inspired by the recent post I reblogged. Might seem wonky, though it is proofread. Rated M for mind control, lots of fluids, some squicky stuff, biting, etc. I just love the idea of Sunder mind-controlling and manipulating Froid’s mind, making him an aroused mess of multiple overloads without Sunder ever touching him. Mmm. His precious little shareware.

The tick-click-tick-click of Sunder's needle on his folded hands sounded like pounding thunder in Froid's audiols, blocking and muffling his whimpers and moans.

Sunder sat only a few feet away, right in front of him; haunched over, a menacing silhouette in the dimly lit room. Elbows on his knees, toothy grin hidden behind his hands, watching Froid, never once blinking. Despite the fact Froid was staring Sunder directly in his optics, he couldn't see him. A thousand other images flooded his mind; a thousand different scenarios, a thousand ways Froid saw himself ravaged, ravished, taken, and brought to his knees.

But all Froid could hear was that needle. Slender, sharp, protracted from index finger and tap-tap-tapping on a knuckle. Amused, playful. It was hypnotic, consuming, and in the many visions Froid was subjected to, the faint ticking of the needle thrummed in the background. Every one of them. Over screams and groans and pleas and cries of ecstasy.

Froid writhed on the slab, having worn grooves into the sleek metal with his fingers, denting the sides where he held and squeezed. Still raking his long digits until the edges were raw of their blue paint and a base silver. Every inch of his sinewy, gangly frame shivering, plating and armor rattling against his chassis. Though Froid shook his head every now and then, it was never enough to break eye contact with Sunder, quietly lording over him from his chair at his feet.

Froid's legs were locked open, the actuators strained and numb. His channel exposed, the folds engorged, inner walls fluttering with arousal. Unit twitched and fully erect. He'd overloaded countless times already, forming a small puddle of lubricant and transfluid beneath him. Fresh and drying fluids caking his groin, thighs, mid-section, even his chin during one *very* powerful unit overload. Froid's optics were wide, bulging from their sockets, his white apertures switching erratically from dilated to tiny pin-pricks; a total, complete wreck, crying and choking and lost inside his head and numerous assaulting fantasies.

The corners of Sunder's grin appear from behind his woven hands. "Perhaps I ought to give you a break," he mused, still tapping the needle, still holding Froid's petrified gaze. "You're going to overload yourself dry, until there's nothing left to keep you from overheating and catching fire." Sunder laughed low and deep.

Froid just stared--no--looked through Sunder. Captured in his hypnotic trap. "Who would have thought you'd have such a filthy, filthy mind, doctor," Sunder purred. "Watching you take and be taken in all these delicious, *vicious* ways..." He cocked a browplate, his right optic flashing. The needle double-clicked--

Froid shrieked and arched off the slab, overloading and splashing transfluid down his legs. Some of it splattered on the ground; Sunder smirked at the single drop that hit the edge of his foot. "I've only scratched the surface of your dark desires, Froid. I wonder if I were to truly dig deeper... What sort of arousing monstrosities would I find?"

Froid flopped back onto the slab, venting heavily, optics hooded and thighs twitching. Exhausted. He needed rest, he needed to refuel, but then Sunder resumed clicking the needle, caught Froid's gaze again, and plunged inside. A force invisible but so powerful, impaling the core of Froid's mind, puncturing neurons with thousands of tiny little needles.

Froid whimpered painfully, jerking to the side, thrown back into a pit of hands and mouths and tongues and wet, elongated, nightmarish things that fondled, groped, and penetrated him.

"It's tempting," Sunder hummed, "to rewrite everything. Break you apart, rebuild you. I could make you whatever I wanted. Make you just as hideous on the outside as you are inside." His finials flickered, maniacal grin splitting his face. "Then you'd be *my* pet monster." He chuckled as Froid dug and scraped the heels of his boots into the slab. "No, no. It's a partnership. Symbiotic. Isn't that right?"

Froid gasped, loud and ragged, as he overloaded, this time from his unit. Not nearly as powerful--he was excruciatingly low on stamina. Soon he'd be running on nothing but fumes. Sunder liked the idea, however; liked the image of milking Froid until his tired, overworked gears started burning, and smoke billowed from his seams. How pretty that would look.

"I could make everything so sensitive, the slightest touch would break you apart," Sunder leered. "The line between pleasure and pain completely erased. You'd overload as I gut and bled you dry. But I wouldn't kill you; you wouldn't bore me enough to do that. I could just remake you into something different."

Froid mewled, optics squinting and burning. Not enough coolant to produce sufficient amount of tears. His hips undulated into the air, wanton and desperate and disgustingly pathetic. Sunder tried not to guffaw, licking his lips sluggishly. "I like you as you are. For now. You provide, you entertain. You know your place. So I think I'll keep you a bit longer. Your taste has not yet gone sour."

"Rhh--!" Froid croaked, voice strained and static-laced.

"Nothing ever lasts forever. One day I will break you," Sunder stated, rising from his chair. "For your sake, pray that means death."

The needle retracted back into Sunder's fingers. Froid suddenly blinked, going almost entirely still. He looked around the room, dazed and confused. "H-How l--..." His voice cut out, and he grabbed at his throat, wincing at the heat coming off his cables and plating. Froid looked down quickly, grimacing at the mess.

Sunder moved between Froid's legs, hands on his knees. He didn't answer, just bowed his head and started licking up all the transfluid and lubricant. First from the slab, and Froid was too tired to move. He... didn't really want to.

Though Froid had finished "feeding" Sunder, he stayed where he was. Partially curious, partially afraid, but so very, very aroused. Surprising, considering Froid probably couldn't get a single drop out of another overload. Dry ones were too painful--burned, stung. But Froid stayed, and he watched, until Sunder starting licking and lapping his wet tongue up his thighs, coating them lavishly in globs and strings of coolant.

Froid gasped when Sunder wormed his tongue inside his stretched channel. He grabbed at the radar dish on top of Sunder's head, holding on and yet pushing lightly. Sunder took him by the hips, held him firmly in place, wiggling and thrusting his tongue deeper inside the Autobot. He swirled his tongue, rolled and pressed it up, until he was massaging Froid's anterior node.

"S-Sun--!" Froid yelped, hooking his legs around the giant bot. Sunder's chuckle reverberated inside his channel, tickling. He started moving and pumping his tongue, much like a unit. His teeth grazed dangerously along Froid's folds, venting hot, oily air against his plating.

Just as Froid was about to reach his final overload, Sunder bit down on his ceiling node, piercing and drawing energon. Froid screamed as he climaxed, squirting both a little transfluid and energon in Sunder's mouth. The large bot cackled, continued swallowing up the mess he made. Froid wanted to throw him out, but knew better.

"Was th-- necc--?" Froid grunted, massaging between his optics.

Sunder suckled on the bleeding node, and Froid shifted a little. "Everything 'til now was sweet," he said, referring to the transfluid and lubricant, "but this? Much richer, heavier. A good way to end the meal."

Froid looked annoyed, but was using what little strength he had left to keep himself from shaking.

[randomisedgaming]

Steel Strider - Review - Vol 21

Format: Windows PC Publisher: Nyu Media Developer: Astro Port Release year: 2015 Genre: Run & Gun Shooter / Platformer

Randomised Gaming reviewed the Steam digital download version of Steel Strider on a Windows 7 PC.

To some the words budget title, can conjure the images of some horrible looking cheap and broken game with a cover art that closely resembles a well-known franchise from a more famous company. In other cases it might mean a re-release of a classic game from yesteryear covered in a new unpleasant sliver packaging, designed to taunt the owner that they didn't buy the game when it first came out.

These days, thanks to services like Steam, Xbox Live Arcade, PlayStation Network and the rise and return of small interdependent developers. The price of the game doesn't in the slightest reflect the quality and that budget game you just bought, for £1.99 can be every bit as good as that £49.99, big budget title, if not better.

Which is a good thing, as for us at Randomised Gaming the price of the title means nothing it's what's under the hood that counts. The only factor that really comes into play on cost is the length of a game, as you don't expect a hundred hours epic story adventure if you are paying £4.79 for a title.

The second world has a very sci-fi feel and the look is a real throwback to the days of the Amiga home computer

Steel Strider is a run and gun shooter crossed with a platformer, much like Konami's Contra series, but nowhere as hard. Developed by Astro Port, a studio who has made a name for themselves on producing retro themed arcade games with a modern look and feel. The game itself is a sequel to Astro Port's previous title Gigantic Army with Steel Strider taking place a number of years after Gigantic Army finished. Other nods include the SALADIN mech from the first game appearing as the boss at the end of the first world and the second mission sees you returning to the planet Ramulon from Gigantic Army to stop another outbreak of war. The plot from the third mission is directly linked to another space shooter from Astro Port called SATAZIUS.

As the name would suggest the game is packed full of giant robots, mechs or mechas pending which name you prefer. It's also packed with lots of guns too, as you will be blasting just about everything in sight. Added to that you have a nice Gundam / Star Wars inspired beam saber just in case anything gets to close for comfort.

That description may well conquer up images of Masaya's Assault Suit/s series (Target Earth / Cybernator for us in the west) in your head and you would be spot on. As Steel Strider clearly homages these games. This is a perfect example of a modern shooter and when you're not gunning down the rank and file infantry. Which come in all shapes and sizes, from small bomb carrying droids to large walker with mount rockets and laser cannons. You can expect to see plenty of full screen world destroying boss units.

Huge boss battles really are one of Steel Strider's highlights

Steel Strider is fast and frantic, for skilled run and gun player's like myself I was able to finish the game on normal in around two and a half hours. Steel Strider offers four difficulties and if you want to see everything the game has to offer, then you will have to at least finish the game on hard or insane, to see the true final boss. The higher difficulties also change up some of the enemies seen in each level.

Steel Strider is about 80% shooting mixed with about 20% platforming. Most of the shooting action is very much point, click and fire. There isn't a huge amount of tactics involved as most of the standard units can be blasted anywhere. They also normally attack in huge numbers, so it's best just to clear the enemies as quickly as you can. There's the odd shielded enemy and some of the bosses have to be damaged via a weak point, but most of them can be damaged anywhere.

Much of the gameplay involves picking your favourite gun and blast anything in slight while dodging their fire, nice and simple. You have full 360 degree fire control so you can shoot enemies from any angle you choose. Speaking of guns there's eight different weapons to find over the course of the game. While the default handgun is designed as a last resort weapon, owning to having unlimited ammo, its damage is very weak.

A shotgun down a narrow corridor, is a sure way to clear robot mobs

You will be quickly looking to use alternative weapons like the assault rifle or shotgun, later weapons include rockets and the all powerful railgun. Each weapon performs differently and learning in which situation to use each weapon is a vital skill. The shotgun is great for hitting rapidly moving enemies, while the rocket launcher is perfect for dealing high damage to bosses.

Limited ammo for these weapons, however, means they should be used sparingly as you don't want to walk into a boss fight with just the beam sword and handgun, unless you're testing your gaming skills. Later stages include upgrades to the various weapons, but these upgrades don't change the balance much and as you are given them wholesale as the game progresses, they don't really feel like a reward for good performance or exploring a level.

The game supports both mouse & keyboard and joypad options, the controls themselves are very straightforward and easy to learn. While normally I would prefer to use a joypad for this type of game, I found the joypad controls on Steel Strider rather twitchy and a bit unresponsive, when using an official Xbox 360 pad. In the end I found the game easier to control with the mouse & keyboard. As this set up controlled faster and was more responsive, even if this wasn't my preferred choice of controls.

The opening section of stage 3 sees you taking to the skies

Steel Strider included four unique worlds, each made up of a number of stages. Each world has its own setting the first is on a mountain planet, second a yellow mining world, you have a green gas world for the third and an urban city for the final one. The art direction of Steel Strider is one of the weaker areas of the game as the interior stages all look the same and largely the colour scheme uses far too many grey textures. Making the game very bland looking and it subtracts from the great design work done for some of the mech units in game. On the whole the mech sprite are far more colourful and very contrasting with the background, perhaps this was intended so you could easily see the incoming enemy fire clearly. It ends up making the game feel rather drab as you explore each world.  

The level design in part managed to make up for this, as each stage has its own theme. World two adds in a few stealth sections and includes an impressive chase along a train. While world three sees you boosting through the clouds to board a stolen cruiser. These add a nice touch to each of the worlds. However, these extra sections are often over a bit too quickly and then it's back to shooting robots down a long corridor. Still nothing in this game lasts that long and you quickly move from stage to stage. While the level design isn't quite to the quality of Cybernator / Assault Suits Valken, Steel Strider's design is well paced with enough new twists along the way to keep you playing until the end.

Even this train doesn’t stand a chance against this giant circular saw robot, don’t stop moving

When you're not shooting, there's a fair amount of jumping nothing too taxing, in part due to the huge jetpack mounted on your back, which allows you to hover and glide over platforms. There are few bottomless pits to watch out for that kill you instantly, but with checkpoint at every section, you rarely have to replay more than a minute or two. The main use of the jetpack is to primarily time your jumps to avoid the onslaught of enemy fire directed your way. The odd saying “anything you can do, I can do better” springs to mind, as for every weapon you have, the enemies have, a fast, longer and bigger version. So expect to jump, duck and dive, out of the way of rockets, bombs, missiles, lasers and much much more. Just remember hazard pay isn't included.

Story wise there's not a huge amount apart from the mission briefings you encounter before and during each level. Asides from a few very short in-game cutscenes. It mainly boils down to the fact you are a special force unit, guided by an operator, running shadow operations to prevent wars. There's a slightly interesting moral twist at the end of the game, but that's for you the reader to discover. However, the quality of the English script and text, leaves a lot to be desired. It's functional, but doesn't flow at all well.

These bland mission briefings are pretty much it for the story

The music fits the steel theme of the game nice, with a nice section of techno music perhaps a nod to the music from the 16bit era. Nice to listen too as you play, but very forgettable stuff and nor is it going to rouse emotions like the superb soundtrack for Front Mission on Super Nintendo. A decent soundtrack, but not a great one.

Audio wise the sound effects are what you expect in this type of game with mechanical noises and explosions going off everywhere. Which more than suffices, as you don't really need to listen to detailed affects, when you're constantly blowing up everything in sight.

There is a scoring system included and Steel Strider also keeps a record of your playthrough time, if you decide you want to improve on your personal best time. The scoring system did seem fairly basic and the highest score awards seemed to be for just finishing a stage without take a hit.

The final forth mission gets very hectic in places

That just about covers everything there is to say, performance on out test unit was perfect and the game has fairly low minimum specs for modern PC titles. Option are very limited and the game only has 640x480 and 1024x768 resolution support. There is a wide screen aspect option, but this didn't work for me and just put the game into a tiny window. The lack of options was somewhat of a let down as most gamers would expect at least 1440x1080 support in-game and ideally 1920x1080p.

Unstoppable robot soldier or twisted and broken scrape metal?

Taken as a whole the gameplay of Steel Strider is fairly standard for the genre, it's a run and gun and these games always tend to get pretty repetitive at times. While Steel Strider is far from the best example of the genre it does a good job of capturing the spirit of more well-known games, if not quite putting it altogether correctly. The bland nature of some of the levels is ultimately what stops Steel Strider from reaching greater heights.

Even in some of the boss battles, you have to watch your footing to avoid falling off!

As a veteran of the genre, it kept me playing all the way to the end, even if it did only take two hours to finish. While it might not offer a huge amount of replay value you can't complain at the budget price it was launched at and there's at least enough to keep you coming back for a second playthrough on hard to see the true final boss. Even the great classic that is Cybernator / Assault Suits Valken wasn't exactly a long game to finish either.

Is Steel Strider as good as the big classics like Contra, Metal Slug, Metal Warriors, Front Mission Gun Hazard, Assault Suits Valken & Leynos 1 and 2. Short answer is no, is it worth your money, however, well yes! Both Steel Strider and its prequel Gigantic Army can be found in a bundle with most of Astro Port's other games on Steam, at a very reasonable price, well worth the cost of admission.

While picking up original copies of games like Cybernator aren't that cheap, digital options are available. (time of writing Virtual Console is still up on Wii & Wii U, just) Where as Metal Warriors on SNES is very hard to find these days and very expensive. The Metal Slug series on the other hand is available on just about every post mid 90s console going.

The Trafalgar from SATAZIUS helping out the player, in a cameo role

It's fair to say, you should aim to purchase and plays the mentioned titles first, before looking at Astro Port's offerings. If you have played all the latter games and want something new to try out, then these budget games by Astro Port should be right up your street. You can certainly pay a lot more for far worse, Contra: Legacy of War or Scud: The Disposable Assassin, anyone?

Minimum Spec on Steam: OS: Windows 2000, XP, 7, or 8 Processor: Pentium 4 1.4GHz or better Memory: 512 MB RAM Graphics: NDIVIA Geforce series, AMD(ATI) Radeon series Storage: 100 MB available space Sound Card: DirectSound-compatible Sound Card

Astro Port Official website: http://www.interq.or.jp/saturn/takuhama/dhc.html Nyu Media website: http://nyu-media.com/category/astro-port/

Review by Random Gamer Riven.

Twitter: RDGamerRiven

Email: randomgamerriven@gmail.com

Follow Randomised Gaming on Tumblr, for video game, art, reviews, features, videos and more. You can also follow us on twitter and subscribe to us on YouTube for even more Randomised Gaming content.

[snowstormfic]

Two Wars Two Babies (9)

The dragon, circling Aegon’s High Hill of King’s Landing, drew the attention of Cirsei’s armed men, first. They lined the perimeters of their Queen’s hold, prepared to protect her against the beast. It wore Gendry’s specially-made armor, which blinded the men, as it dipped and dove, catching the sunlight. But they were prepared. They wheeled out the great scorpions, and prepared to launch. Circei’s ships readied for an attack at the southern spot of Blackwater Bay, the site of the famous battle which shared its name. Armed sailors waited, squinting at the watery horizon, and back to the dragon in the sky. In truth, everyone’s attention was drawn by the dragon. Men stopped their working in smith shops, covering weary brows with their forearms to shield their eyes, so they could see what no one thought possible. Women hung out out of windows, calling to children who ran into the streets to see the pretty dragon, turning lazy circles in the sky. The women’s voices caught in their throats in sheer awe. And so, when Dany, Jon, the Unsullied, the Dothraki, and the Northerners never approached Aegon’s Hill, no one was wary until it was too late. Rather, Jon and Dany and the rest disembarked their ships, at the north end of the Bay. The Unsullied posted up, surrounding Rhaeny’s Hill instead. No one was there, of course. The Dragon Pit was just a ruin. But Dany and Jon took their places in the center and waited. Jon tried to decipher the look on Dany’s face. “Are you afraid?” he asked. She had been watching her child in the sky. “No. I just wish I was up there right now.” “It’s for the best.” Dany turned her gaze back to Jon. “I know. Today we unite the Seven Kingdoms once and for all.” While they finished setting up their Dragon Pit location, the Northern Lords and their men, walked the streets of Flea Bottom. “You see that dragon?” Glover shouted. “That’s Daenerys Targeryan’s dragon!”

A woman shrieked in fear, snatching a child from the gutter and hiding in a doorway. Glover continued, shouting as he went. “The Dragon Queen hates what has been done to you. You shouldn’t be hungry. You shouldn’t be afraid. Come to the Pit and eat and hear from the Freer of Slaves.” A man, a head taller than Glover, stepped out from a giant pot, boiling leather. “Or come to the Pit and get roasted alive. Why should we trust this foreigner?” Glover never flinched. “Who was it blew up the Sept of Baelor? Burned up her own daughter in law? You’ve got the fires of damnation in the castle over there. Let’s go talk about freedom.” Slowly, surely, residents of all sorts followed the men to the Pit, where, once they made it through the Unsullied, were greeted with huge stores of food. Jon mumbled to his queen, “this is a gamble, letting them eat up our stores. If we lose, our armies will starve. It’s a ship’s load of food.” “When we win,” Dany responded, unflinchingly, “we will have the Seven Kingdoms from which we can seed, sow, and reap.” Nervous laughter filled the Pit, while folks from the poorer parts of King’s Landing ate their fill. Dany climbed atop the highest, most central portion of the ruin, and all attention turned toward her. “You have lived under the tyranny of a woman with no right to the iron throne. You have starved for her, bled for her, and many have died for her. In return, she curses you and brings you destruction.” Her voice rose into the authoritative cadence used in moments such as these. “Today, I offer you an alternative. I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen.” She gestured to Jon, who she beckoned to her side. “This is Jon Snow of House Stark. But our houses do not matter. Your houses matter.” The people looked amongst themselves, confused. Every single one of them was low-born. Dany continued. “You are fathers, mothers, sons, daughters. You have daily lives, trials, and loves. We know this. And we respect this.” It was shocking. But the ripples of energy, of straightened spines, and of nodding heads, was palpable. “I came through fire, chosen to be Khaleesi, the first to bring the Dothraki across the Narrow Sea. I freed the Unsullied, and yet they follow me. Jon Snow was named Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. He then conquered death, united The Wildlings with The Northerners, and brought down the Army of the Dead.” A woman shouted from the crowd, “Are you going to kill a pregnant queen?” Dany grabbed Jon’s hand. “Cirsei’s reign is built on lies, including an unborn child.” A dull roar broke out. This seemed too much - they had seen the ample belly as she stood at her window. “But!” shouted Dany over the crowd. “But ... the life within me is real.” She placed a hand on her belly and with the other, raised her clasped hand with Jon’s. The crowd stirred further, and a disturbance at the back of the amphitheater caught Dany’s attention. She could see now the smoke rising from Aegon’s Hill. Inwardly, she wondered at the damage: what was destroyed? The Red Keep? The Tower of the Hand? The Throne Room? How many Queen’s guard had been killed? She concentrated at the task before her. The crowd parted, and dozens of Dothraki escorted Cirsei and Tyrion on a path to Jon and Dany. Cirsei was bound and gagged; Tyrion led her by a chain. The crowd, restless and confused, turned their angst to their current monarch. They spat and swore, angry that she had never fed them. That it should come to this. Dany raised her hands and hushed the crowds. Jon handed her a dagger. “Approach, Cirsei Lannister.” Shoved up the disheveled stones, Cirsei stood with Dany and Jon. Dany placed the blade against Cirsei’s cheek, cutting the gag free. “This is your last opportunity,” said Dany. “Bend the knee, admit your sins against these people, and you will be exiled. Refuse and you will die.”

Pure hatred dripped from Cirsei’s words. “I shall never bend.” Two Unsullied provided further restraint as Dany poised the blade high. She placed a hand on Cirsei’s belly. Underneath her fingers, she detected the slightest hint of movement. Panic rippled up Dany’s spine and shortened her breath. She looked to Tyrion, pleading for truth with her large, violet eyes. He nodded solemnly in response. Trust me, his stare told her. Do it. With all her might, Dany swung down the blade, tearing the golden gown of the Lannister queen and slicing down her swollen abdomen. Cirsei sent a yell into the air so sharp, it silenced all who heard it. But Dany did not falter. She pushed Cirsei to her knees, and rather than spilling blood or anything else remotely embryonic, a green gush burst forth from Cirsei. No child came forth, only something that looked like great pale maggots. “Seven hells - what is it?” Jon cursed. Tyrion climbed to stand near his sister. “Another monstrosity made by Qyburn, no doubt.” Cirsei herself grew green in pallor, and spat in her brothers face in her final moments of life. She finally collapsed in a green, crawling mess. It wasn’t the burning of Cirsei’s remains, nor the parade through the city, nor the chants of Dany’s name on the lips of her people that brought her to tears. But that moment she finally ascended the Iron Throne - charted a bit, though it may be - she wept in sweet relief. Jon stood knelt in front of her. “My Queen.” She smiled through glassy tears, shameless in her joy. “Arise, My King, and take your place.”

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

[lesbianlametron]

Bokuroo Week Day 4

Prompt: Improvising

Title: Spontaneous Saturday

Rating: T

Summary:  Bokuto wakes up Kuroo one Saturday in the summer for a day trip together. They had both been busy lately with their respective jobs and Bokuto is dying for time alone with Kuroo. He packs a bag, but other than that he has no plans. Kuroo’s just along for the ride. Graphic designer!Kuroo, P.E. Teacher!Bokuto Post-college, married, domesticated fluff.

Kuroo was sleeping as he should be for it being barely seven-thirty am and he was content to keep it that way. His arm flopped over to the other side of the bed, blindly searching for his husband, but was only met with empty sheets. He groaned when he rolled over and looked at the time. It was way early and he was looking forward to a lazy Saturday morning in bed. Then again, that wasn’t Bokuto’s style. He was up at the crack of dawn, happy and energetic as ever. Bokuto, like Kuroo, also was a complete night owl and would stay up into the early morning just talking or partying. Because of this, Bokuto was super fond of afternoon naps. That fact always made Kuroo laugh and joke that Bokuto was secretly still a baby at twenty-six years old. Well, no matter if Bokuto was awake, Kuroo was still planning on sleeping until at least eleven.

             Bokuto walked into their room, his hair still damp from the shower, with a towel around his waist. “Tetsu~ time to get up.” He called out to his husband in a soft voice.

             “No. It’s seven-thirty and a Saturday and it’s summer. Fuck you.”

             Bokuto chuckled, not even a bit fazed by Kuroo’s animosity. He was used to his by now. “Good morning to you too, love. Come on, I want to do something fun today. We’ve both busy with work and I want to have a date day.”

             “We can, but just later.” Kuroo mumbled into his pillow, trying to hide his smile. It was sweet that Bokuto wanted the two of them to spend the day together. Kuroo had been working late nights and Bokuto was always gone when he woke up in morning. His company had just finished a big ad campaign that he had to do all the graphic designing for, being the team’s lead designer. Today was the first Saturday in a while that Kuroo wasn’t working on a project.

             “Awww, come on, we’re going to get breakfast. I made you coffee~.”

             “Still no.”

             “TETSU, you love breakfast!”

             “Stop shouting…”

             “Don’t make me force you to wake up.” Bokuto warned as he pulled on a pair of shorts.

             “Go ahead and try.”

             Bokuto chuckled to himself and walked over to bed. He grabbed a hold of the comforter and sheets. Before Kuroo could think of fighting back, Bokuto ripped the covers off the bed. “Rise and shine, my beautiful Tetsu.”

             “I hate you.”

             Bokuto crawled on top of him and leaned down giving him a soft, sensual kiss.

             “I hate you a little less.” Kuroo’s eyes were still closed as Bokuto peppered his face with tiny kisses that tickled his cheeks. Kuroo weakly tried to push him away.

             “I promise you’ll have fun today. Come on, please, indulge me. Tomorrow, we’ll do whatever you want.”

             Kuroo groaned and sat up. “Fine, I’m up. And if I don’t have fun today, I’m blaming you.”

             Bokuto slid off the bed and placed a mug of coffee into Kuroo’s hands. “I love you.”

             “Yeah, yeah.” Kuroo murmured before taking a long, slow sip, more to enjoy the coffee, but a little in protest against Bokuto.

             “I love you.”

             “I know, I’m up.”

             “I love you.”

             Kuroo rolled his eyes catching on that Bokuto wouldn’t stop until he said it back. “I love you too, you goof.”

             Bokuto grinned at him and Kuroo nearly felt like he needed sunglasses to shield him from the brightness. “Good, now go shower.”

             Kuroo grumbled more as he got up and wandered into the bathroom. As much as he hated waking up, he knew Bokuto was right, whatever Bokuto had planned, it would be fun. He took a couple long gulps of coffee before stepping into the warm spray. The coffee combined with the shower was starting to wake him up. He’d still need another cup at breakfast to be fully functional, but this would at least get him awake enough to get into Bokuto’s car.

             When he walked back into the bedroom he saw Bokuto packing a bag that included both athletic shows and swimsuits. “Are we going to the beach?”              

             Bokuto shrugged and put a couple towels into the bag. “Maybe. I haven’t figured that out yet.”

             “Then what are we doing?”

             “Improvising.”

             Kuroo shook his head and rummaged through his drawers for shorts and a tank top. “Is it hot out?”

             “Mmhm. It’s supposed to be today.” Bokuto turned around to face Kuroo and slipped a pair of sunglasses onto his head. “I remember you broke yours so I went out and got you a pair.”

             Bokuto had turned around so he didn’t catch the fond smile that spread across Kuroo’s face. Bokuto really did think of everything and did sweet things for the ones he cared about without even thinking twice. Kuroo dressed and walked up behind Bokuto and pressed a kiss onto Bokuto’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

             “Of course. You ready?”

             “Mmhm.”

             Bokuto slung the duffle over his should and took Kuroo’s hand, leading him out the door. “So we really have no plans?” Kuroo asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

             “Beyond breakfast, nope. I thought it’d be kinda fun just to drive and stop when we felt like it and do whatever we come across.” Bokuto shrugged again as he started driving them to their favorite breakfast place. It annoyed Kuroo a bit not to have a plan, but he trusted his boyfriend. Bokuto would occasionally get into these moods where he was feeling completely spontaneous and Kuroo would just strap himself in for the ride. Sometimes it was nice to just not have to think everything out for once. Plus, whatever happened, would probably make a killer story to tell their friends later.

             Bokuto pulled into a parking space and led Kuroo into restaurant. Kuroo was still sleepy and hanging heavily on Bokuto’s arm. There was almost nothing more endearing to Bokuto than a tired Kuroo. It was part of the reason he woke Kuroo up sometimes. He hardly felt like walking because of his lack of engery and was very clingy. They sat down together and ordered food. Kuroo was quiet as he usually was before his second cup of coffee, but it didn’t bother Bokuto in the slightest.

             “Dude, we started a volleyball unit this week.” Bokuto started, always filled with stories from his work. In the summers, when school wasn’t in session Bokuto ran a recreation program during the days to promote kids getting into sports. He loved the kids in his normal classes, but these kids actually wanted to be there. Well, there were some that their moms forced them because they worked during the day.  

             Kuroo looked up from his coffee and smiled. He was glad Bokuto was able to still be involved with volleyball. It surprised both of them, but teaching P.E. and sports gave him almost as much joy as playing used to. He knew Bokuto missed it, they both did, but stopped playing after college. Bokuto could have gone pro, but fell in love with teaching grade school P.E. Kuroo never really wanted to go pro and loved his job too. “Oh yeah? I bet you’re excited about that.”

             “It’s the best! There’s this kid there, a 5th grader, he’s like the baby version of Hinata.” Bokuto had to pause to hold back his laughter. Kuroo knew it had probably had to be something with the kid getting hit because Bokuto wanted to laugh, but knew he shouldn’t. “I swear this kid is like a ball magnet. I’m trying to teach him how to receive, but the kid always manages to get hit in the face. Even when he’s not playing. It takes all my restraint not to laugh along with the kids.”

             Kuroo chuckled a little and started eating his pancakes when they came. Bokuto French toast because they each loved both and never could choose one. He plated his second pancake for Bokuto and Bokuto did that with his as well. This was a tradition between them and Bokuto was a complete sap and it always made him smile. “I bet he’s nearly as tall as Shrimpy when he was in high school.”

             Bokuto snorted and nodded. “He is. Kageyama was sad when Hinata finally grew taller in college, I think he had a thing for their height difference. They’re close to the same height now.”

             “Oh yeah, you went in saw their game last weekend when I was working. The Toyko team is in the finals this year, right?” Bokuto had more free time than Kuroo, especially in the summers, and was also better at keeping in touch with their friends than Kuroo was. Kuroo kept in touch with Tsukishima, Kenma, and Akaashi mostly, but Bokuto was always seeing the friends outside of their direct circle.

             “Mmhm.” He murmured with his mouth full and Kuroo rolled his eyes. He was about to scold his boyfriend, but Bokuto remembered to swallow before finishing his sentence. “Hinata was great as ‘The Little Giant 2.0’, but he’s a ton better now that he’s got the height on him. Kags still has a few inches on him, but the kid can still jump like no other. I don’t know how the kid still has all the energy.”

             Kuroo chuckled a little. “I bet you could rival him there, you’re inhuman in the mornings.”

             Bokuto laughed as well, “Maybe, but shit, I’m old now.”

             “Babe, don’t say that because then I’m old too.”

             Bokuto finished eating and grinned cheekily at him. “Babe, we’ve been out of college for 4 years now.”

             “Don’t!”

             Bokuto laughed as Kuroo glared at him over his last few bites. “You’ll always be sexy to me, Tetsu, no matter how old you get.” He leaned across the tabled and motioned for Kuroo to come closer. Kuroo rolled his eyes and met Bokuto halfway for a kick peck.

             “You loser. I don’t think you’ll be saying when I’m 80 and wrinkly.”

             “Yes, I will because I’ll be the same and you’ll still love me.”

             Kuroo pursed his lips together and rubbed his chin, being over dramatic with thinking about it. “I don’t know…I’m really only with you because of your body.”

             “Uh huh. I’m sure it was my body that kept us together for eight years.”

             “Yeah in seven I’m going to divorce you for a younger hotter version.” Kuroo grinned and nodded to the bill sitting on the table between them. “Oh, and you’re paying for waking me up early.”

             “I thought by now you’d be used to getting up early and I was already planning on it.”

             “No, I’ll never become a morning person, I’ve just learned how to cope with them.”

             “Mornings are not a disease, love.” Bokuto chuckled and took his card up to register to pay and Kuroo followed after, only holding his hand this time. His second cup had woken him up a little more and he was more coherent.

             “Says you.” Bokuto shook his head and kissed Kuroo’s hand. They walked back to the car content from their breakfast. Bokuto was eager to start their journey and Kuroo still thought it was too early.

             “Okay pick a direction, and we’ll go.”

             “You’re really serious about this.” Kuroo raise an eyebrow at him.

             “I’m keeping things interesting, darling. We’re going to have adventures well into the future.”

             Kuroo played with his ring absently as the thought, “Okay, East, but can you even go East without a GPS?”

             Bokuto stuck his tongue out. “You’re mean, Tetsu.”

             “I’m keeping things interesting.” Kuroo mocked him with a smirk. “I can’t be too nice to you and make you think that I actually like you.”

             “Uh huh. Besides, my car tells me cardinal directions anyway.”

             “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.”

             Bokuto playfully shoved his shoulder and put the car in drive. “East, it is. Keep your eyes open. I know you can sleep anywhere, kitten, but I want your participation in this.”

             “Ughhhhh… but I was totally planning on napping for a little while.” Kuroo groaned, teasing him. The coffee would keep him up now. He was already up now, it wasn’t being up in the morning that really bothered him, but the act of actually waking up and starting the day. “Fiiiiiiiine and knowing you, we’ll probably be taking a nap mid-day, you old owl.” Bokuto glared at him out the corner of his eye. “That’s what you get for calling me kitten.”

             “Aw come, it had to do with the cat reference.” Bokuto grinned and turned on the radio. “Just tell when you see somewhere you want to stop.” They drove for a few miles, leaving the city behind and both were singing along with the radio. Bokuto’s voice did not match the tune and was louder. Kuroo actually could match the pitch, but he wasn’t actually confident in his singing voice. Eventually they came across a little town and Bokuto pointed out a foreign movie theater.

             “Let’s go.”

             Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “You’re aware we’re not going to understand any of it if they don’t have subtitles.”

             Bokuto shrugged. “I thought it would be funnier to make up the lines ourselves.” He pulled into a parking space and quickly got out. Kuroo shrugged and followed him. It did sound pretty entertaining.

             “As long as you buy me popcorn, I’m up for anything.”

             “You say that like it really matters. What’s mine is yours.”

             “It does, because I make more than you.”

             Bokuto glared at him. “Mean. It’s not my fault, teachers aren’t payed as much as they deserve.”

             Kuroo wrapped an arm around Bokuto’s waist and kissed his cheek. “True, you’re great at what you do and you do deserve more.” With the promised popcorn, they sat in the very last row so they wouldn’t annoy every as much with their whispering.

             “You better not fall asleep, Tetsu.”

             Kuroo squeezed his shoulder and nodded. “I promise.” The lights dimmed and the movie started without subtitles like they had thought.

             “What language do you think it’s in?” Bokuto whispered.

             Kuroo actually took the question seriously. If it was Spanish, Italian, or Portuguese, it would be hard to distinguish between them because he knew they were similar. It didn’t seem like any of those. “I’d guess German or Swedish.”  

             Bokuto chuckled a little. “You took that seriously. I should have known.”

             “Of course. That was actually a logical question.”

             “Okay, I’ll be the male lead and you could be the female.”

             Kuroo narrowed his eyes and stole the popcorn away from him. “Why do I have to be the girl?”

             “Cuz we both know you’re the girlier one. You have such a beautiful slender frame, babe.”

             “I’m leaving.”

             Bokuto kissed his cheek. “Good luck getting home.”

             “I could afford an Uber.”

             “Will you play along?”

             Kuroo sighed and scooted closer to his husband again. “All right. Your line.”

             “Giiiiirl I see you there looking all fine.” Bokuto whispered as the main character saw the lead female for the first time.

             “How dare you! I’m not some piece of ass for you salivate over.”

             Bokuto covered his mouth so he wouldn’t laugh louder than he anticipated. He was at least trying not to piss off the few other people that were watching. “You really went there.”

             “Uh of course, babe, you can’t just objectify women like that. They have rights.”

             “Well,” Bokuto continued in a whisper with the character’s line. “I am the richest most eligible bachelor in town. You’d be lucky to have me.”

             “You act like that will make up for your terrible personality.” The continued with the lines, Kuroo was the most committed, adding voices for the new characters that entered. Bokuto had to contain his laughter which each new voice Kuroo added and still keeping his voice low enough not to annoy everyone. Like most romantic dramas, it ended with the couple getting together and most of the conflict had been resolved. They understood that much at least. Kuroo placed his hand on his chest to deliver his last impactful line.

             “Just so you know, this kiss means nothing. I still hate your personality. You tried to change, but you never fully got there. This will by my goodbye to you.”

             Bokuto took Kuroo’s free hand and looked him in the eye. “Please, Sarah, I need you. You make me a better person.”

             “Sorry, I’m a lesbian.” Kuroo delivered his line and Bokuto laughed, letting himself fully laugh now that credits were rolling. They got weird looks from the couple a few rows in front of them. “Apparently that wasn’t an ending you should have laughed at.”

             Bokuto shrugged. “Oh well. I liked our version better and of course you wouldn’t make it a happy ending.”

             “Duh. That would have been boring.”

             “Your lesbian ending did catch me off guard. Especially because the guy kissed her again after that line.”

             “That’s what made it perfect.” They stood up and excited the theater. “What next?”

             “Probably lunch of some sort?”

             Kuroo shrugged. “Sounds good. We should pick something up here and drive somewhere to have a picnic.”

             “I’m down.”

             After lunch and a quick nap under an oak tree, they drove until it neared sunset. They talked, laughed, and sung along with the radio to their favorite songs. Kuroo couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed. It was definitely what he needed after the month he’d had at work. Bokuto had been happy because it was summer, but Kuroo could tell that Bokuto was happier today than he had been in a while. He knew Bokuto got lonely when he worked a lot.

             “Hey, Kou.”

             “Hm?”

             “Thank you for today.”

             Bokuto reached over and took Kuroo’s hand, kissing Kuroo’s wedding ring. “Of course.”

             “No, I mean it. I really got lucky with you. I hope we do grow old and we still have days like this.” Kuroo squeezed Bokuto’s hand and smiled warmly at him. “I know I’ve been working at lot and that’s hard on you. Sometimes I still can’t believe the days we go without seeing each other still make you so sad. It makes me happy to know you love being around me that much. I promise, at least once a month, we’ll have designated Kou and Testu days.”

             “Tetsu…Hey! We made it to the beach. Did you know going East would eventually bring us to the beach?”

             Kuroo shook his head. “Honestly no.”

             “Let’s go watch the sunset.”

             “That’s such a cliché date move.”

             “But you want to?”

             “Hell yeah.” Kuroo took off his shoes as the car came to a stop. He ran off to get his feet in the sand as soon as possible. There wasn’t much Kuroo loved more than beach and of course Bokuto. Although he didn’t show it much, work stressed him out. He never wanted to put that on Bokuto. Nothing calmed like the sound of the crashing waves and the gritty sand between his toes.

             Bokuto smiled and watched his husband running ahead. Kuroo didn’t have to tell him, he knew anyway. The beach was just what he needed to fully relax. He grabbed their towels and spread them out close to the water. He sat down first and patted the space beside him. Kuroo sat down and Bokuto started rubbing his shoulders. He sighed and closed his eyes, focusing on Bokuto’s fingers as he worked out all hard spaces of tension.

“Tetsu. I’m glad we did this too. I know you needed it as much as I wanted it. You can come to me when you’re stressed. I know even when you don’t tell me. Your texts are shorter and you leave your clothes on the floor more often. You stay up later and sit on our balcony when you think I’m asleep, but I leave you alone because I don’t want disturb you.”

Kuroo smiled and looked up at the sky. “You’re right, I’m sorry. And please come bother me if you’re up. Sometimes I can’t shut off my brain.”

“I know, baby.”

“Do you want to rent out a suite somewhere just for the night? We could go crazy on the stupid overpriced snacks in the room.”

Bokuto hugged Kuroo around the middle when he finished the massage. “Definitely. I want to make at least one more stop before that though.”

“Okay.” They sat and watched the sunset, neither speaking because they didn’t need to. As much as they loved talking, the silences between them were just as welcome. They took in the colors of the sunset and watched the sun’s light bounce off the gentle waves. Both let all the tension leave their bodies. For that moment, everything was perfect.

Bokuto pressed kisses onto Kuroo’s neck, each meaning something a little different. The long ones told him, he was loved and cherished. The short ones said ‘sometimes I just like how my lips feel against your skin’. The ones with tongue and teeth said, ‘I find you sexier and prettier than anyone’. Bokuto didn’t need to put them into real words, Kuroo understood anyway. They had always been like that, more alike than different. Kenma may have known Kuroo longer and Akaashi may have had the perfect formula to bring Bokuto out of one of his moods. But no one could read their thoughts without words like they could for each other. No one else had their bond or could deal with their strange tangents. They weren’t perfect, but no couple could ever be.

With the windows, down they drove away from the beach and listened sounds of the new town they were in. Both waiting for something that would catch their attention. Bokuto heard it first. There was a bar down the street with live music. “Let’s end the day there, have a drink and listen to some music.”

“Sounds good.”

Bokuto parked the car and they walked hand-in-hand into the bar. When they entered the main room, they realized it wasn’t just live music but an open mic night. Bokuto looked at Kuroo and his eyes sparkled with an idea.

“No.” Kuroo protested, before Bokuto could even ask.

“But your voice is so pretty, Tetsu.”

“No. It’s for you only.” Kuroo walked up to the bar, finding it a perfect excuse to physically leave their conversation. He bought them both drinks and joined Bokuto at their table. He knew Bokuto wasn’t going to let it go. He had just pulled out the puppy dog eyes. “No.”

“Baaabe! For me?”

“You think you can just bat your pretty gold eyes at me and say ‘for me’ and I’ll do anything.” Kuroo glared at him, but he already felt his resolve slipping.

Bokuto didn’t waver with his pleading eyes even when he took sips of his drink. “I know you write songs occasionally. You’re really poetic when you want to be.”

“I don’t even have my guitar. Hah. That was the one thing you didn’t plan for…” Kuroo thought about it for a minute. He had been too tired this morning to see what Bokuto had really packed in the car. His guitar really could be in the car. “You didn’t!”

Bokuto grinned dangerously and Kuroo’s face paled. “I thought maybe I’d get you to play for me at one point.”

“I hate you again.”

“Stay right there.”

“Kou!” Kuroo protested and groaned as Bokuto ran out to the car. He was doomed. Bokuto came back with a smug look on his face and went to talk to the owner instead of coming directly back to the table.

“You’re on in ten, babe. After the next two.” Bokuto took his seat next to Kuroo and gave him a kiss.

“If they boo me off the stage, I’m blaming you and then divorcing you.”

“And people say I’m the over dramatic one.”

“You better get me another drink.”

Bokuto laughed and waved the waitress over for refills. “I know you’ll be great.”

Kuroo watched the next two acts. The first one wasn’t bad, a little pitchy at times, but her piano skills were fantastic. The second was amazing and Kuroo could feel his palms start to sweat. People were cheering and clapping along through the whole song. The applause was loud and Kuroo glared at Bokuto.

“I know you’ll rock it. Take a deep breath, you’re on, kitten.” Bokuto winked at him and pushed him toward the stage.

Kuroo situated himself and tried not think about tripping on the stage. “Well,” he addressed the audience. “I’m only here because my ass of husband convinced me. And because it’s the anniversary of when we originally started dating.”

Bokuto gasped and his eyes went wide in surprised. “BABE! I thought you forgot.”

“Never. Just because it isn’t our wedding anniversary doesn’t mean I’d forgot the way you asked me out at training camp. You were a blushing, stuttering mess and I was just as in love with you then as I am now eight years later, if not more so. This one is for you.”

The crowd clapped politely and a few girls had cooed at their words. Kuroo closed his eyes and started his song. It was an original and the words took Bokuto’s breath away. Kuroo knew how to write the notes within his range, but his lyrics are what really sold the song. They were romantic and bordered on being cheesy. It was their story in song from. Kuroo eventually opened his eyes, but he only focused on Bokuto. The couple of times Kuroo would switch into his falsetto, Bokuto got chills. It was as if Kuroo was only singing to him, but other people finally got hear Kuroo’s gift.

Kuroo took a bow when he finished and the applause was the loudest it had been all night. Kuroo was blushing, but he was pleasantly surprised by the reaction. “I told you, you were good.” Bokuto kissed him when he returned. Kuroo pulled his husband close, not caring that they were in public. He was still riding on the adrenaline from the performance and kissed Bokuto will all his pent up engery. It was the hottest kiss they had in a while.

“I think we have our winner!” The owner over the microphone and Bokuto and Kuroo separated in surprise. He was pointed directly at them and they both stared at each other in surprise.

“There was a contest?”

“I suppose so, go up there, champ.”

Kuroo went back on stage, blushing again. Bokuto had always been the one who drew attention, he was the ace in high school and college. People always raved about Bokuto’s abilities, that Kuroo wasn’t used to the attention being on him. He didn’t care because he would agree with them.

“Congratulations, you’ve won a full spa package at the hotel next door for you and a partner.”

Kuroo looked out to Bokuto and they grinned. Today would definitely being going in Bokuto’s journal. He hoped Kuroo didn’t know about it, but when they were gray and old he didn’t want to forget anything. He wrote down their adventures so he could keep them forever. They saw a foreign film they didn’t understand, had a picnic lunch, enjoyed a sunset, and now they’d won a free spa package by accident. All they needed was something unbelievably wild to happen, but maybe next time.

[lafaiette]

Lafaiette, have you heart "The Slightest Ones" (DLC Trespasser song)? (...) "Mercy for the elves who wander through the night. Dalish father roams, will the Dalish son survive the fight? How can we deny what their number can supply the Realm? When the slightest unite then a giant will rise". (Dalish = elvhen lore) Falon'Din is roaming, waiting for his chance, and Solas is going to encounter him and fight. It's his giant the that will rise? Please tell me Solas is going to survive.

Yes, it’s one of my favorite bard songs!

But what is this sudden obsession with Falon’Din that everyone has? D: I doubt the lyrics are about that, they are probably referring to the Elvhen people in general, their history, their sad fate, and how they will finally rise again: they are the slightest ones, the ones that seemingly don’t count much in human society, but when they will finally unite again, they will be an unstoppable force.

The song also refers to both kind of elves: city elves and Dalish elves, both with their differences and similarities, both with their difficult lives.

City elves have to keep their faith strong in a place, the human city, where everyone and everything is against them and their culture:

“Mercy for the elves, who guide their lives with faith; our hands do weigh them down, but their kind hearts will forgive the weight.”

Dalish elves have to survive in harsh conditions, in the open wilderness, constantly watching their backs, unsure of what the next day may bring (Templars, cruel villagers, ferocious wildlife, cold weather etc.), not knowing if they will even live to the next day:

“Mercy for the elveswho wander through the night; Dalish father roams: will the Dalish son survive the fight?”

Maryden is Orlesian and she sings this at Halamshiral, among the best of Orlesian nobility, so her lyrics also contain some vague mentions to the elves’ effective usefulness in the human world:

“How can we deny what their number can supply the realm?”

This may sound offensive, but at least she also reminds the Orlesians how much the elves suffered under human hands over the centuries and how even their sacrifice at Andraste’s side was forgotten:

“Mercy for the elveswho marched with us through fire;stood with Andrasteas she rose against the empire. Can we pay the costfor the allies we have lost in fear? Our hands of painwill so threaten their name. If we climb through our doubtwe can sympathize […]”

Then a warning comes: if the elves unite, then “a giant will rise” and it’s not a giant like the Titans. This is something even more dangerous, I’d say, because it’s an entire people, tortured, mortified, and forgotten for centuries that finally finds the strength and chance to get up and get its revenge.

This is a giant that cannot be stopped with magic, blades, or threats: once risen, the elves will not stop and they are so many, scattered everywhere, their blood so ancient and strong, that they will have no problems in winning in the end.

They have already begun leaving their jobs, tasks, homes, and all those human cities, organizations, and people depending on them are already lost without their help, servitude, and knowledge.

And now that Solas guides them, the elves will find even better reasons to rebel and even better ways and equipment to do so. If they were scared and unsure before (“How can I even hope to rebel against my wicked magister master?” “How can I even kill the humans who killed my family and burned my home?” “How can I even get revenge against the people who stole everything from me?”), now they are guided by an ancient elven god who promised them freedom and peace, like he did millennia ago with other elven slaves, in an another world that was identical to the current one.