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thelikesofus · 11 months ago

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Buddie Fic Recs

This is my 5th Buddie Rec List! I started compiling this list last April and omg looking back through them now I desperately need to reread them all. Highly recommend all of these fics, also please show the authors some love in their comments xx Happy Easter lovelies <3 REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

where our eyes are never closing by @rewritetheending | T | 6k

After the lightning strike, Buck asks Eddie to take candid photos of him to help prove to Buck that he still exists. Absolute PEAK Softness. Buck through Eddie's eyes! I was a mushy puddle by the end. 10/10 would recommend.

i got all my sisters with me by @useramor | T | 6k

Established relationship Buddie. Eddie’s sister has a baby and they travel down to Texas to meet the baby. DIAZ SIBLINGS UNITE! Seriously though the sibling dynamic in this is off the charts and Buck and Eddie are sickeningly in love, it is quite beautiful.

meet me where the tide comes in by @iinryer | G | 4k

A 3+1 fic about Eddie getting kissed on the head. FOREHEAD KISSES PTSD MORE HEAD KISSES AND BOYS IN LOVE!! Need I say anything more??

The one where Buck gets turned into a dog by @911onabc | G | 9k

Law Suit era BUT WAIT WAIT….DOG BUCK!! I am a sucker for fic where one of them gets turned into an animal. They are much more free with their affection when they think it's just a dog, or just a cat, and the bond between Eddie and "Boy" is so so wonderful. And I do love a happy ending xx

can't do this anymore (do it anyway) by @chronicowboy | T | 2k

Short and sweet but GOD this packs a punch. Eddie starts dating after the lightning strike and Buck is feeling Big Bad about it. He is so sad it truly breaks my heart but all works itself out in the end and Eddie proves Buck’s fears wrong.

We Found Each Other (Over There) by @thekristen999 | T | 46k

Buddie WWII AU. A combat medic and a G.I. meet during one of the world’s greatest battles. This fic is a legitimate masterpiece. I cannot describe to you the quality of this fic because it is beyond words but I will tell you I stayed up until 3:30 am to finish it in one sitting and was left broken but made so so whole again.

the mortifying ordeal of being known by @the-amber-raven | G | 60k

AU where Bobby is Buck’s adoptive Dad and Eddie is dating Buck but Eddie and Bobby think they are talking about two different people. Buck is training at the fire academy but hiding it from Bobby. This fic is the most beautiful tangle of miscommunication, love and family.

like all good things are by @try-set-me-on-fire | T | 7k

Perfect, amazing, soul-destroying, magical, healing Fic. This literally covers all the bases. Chim and Bobby both get injured. OH! and Buck and Eddie were secretly dating all along. READ THIS FIC PEEPS!

find a way to you (if it kills me) by @eddiediazes | M | 19k

The one where Eddie decides to start dating again, Buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief. BUCK PINING LV.10000000!

and i’d choose you (in a hundred lifetimes) by @monsterrae1 | E | 16k

Amnesia Exes fic by the wonderful Rae. Buck and Eddie fall in love via a penpal program and then Buck vanishes. This fic is set four years later. I literally could not put it down. I was reading it in class and then sat in my car for who knows how long just to finish it because I could not continue my day without knowing how it ended.

he never thinks of me (except when i'm on TV) by @loserdiaz | M | 18k

APRIL'S FAMOUS!BUCK AND ARMY!EDDIE FIC!! In which Eddie finds out years later that his unrequited feelings for his high school best friend were not actually unrequited, Buck is stupidly famous now and they pine. OH THEY PINNNEEEEE! It’s delicious.

every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) by @chronicowboy | M | 21k

Alternative S7, Buddie Divorce Era Pt.2. Buck does something reckless and Eddie gets angry about it but these boys cannot communicate effectively to save their lives! This fic is peak angst to a happy ending and I felt like I had a hole in my chest OMG.

left your mark on this heart by @chronicowboy | G | 5k

Buck gets medically diagnosed with butterflies and the doctor makes him write in a notebook every time it happens. Surprise, surprise, the cause and effect is Eddie-related. The notebook entries kill me in the best way, the happiest happy ending

ALSO, YES THIS IS THE THIRD FIC BY THE SAME AUTHOR ON THIS LIST WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?? READ IT IS WHAT! COS THEY'RE SO DAMN GOOD.

endless numbered days by @cal-daisies-and-briars | G | 13k

Buck and Eddie's wedding but from Bobby's POV as Bobby reflects on the family he lost and the one he gained. Absolutely beautiful, I cried.

don’t wanna let you love somebody else but me by @shitouttabuck | T | 14k

Chris wants dating advice so obviously Buck and Eddie decide to Fake Date for research purposes. This fic is PEAK adorable, sappy, and awkward Buddie. They’re idiots but we love them and the certainly love each other. READ THIS FIC!

#buddie #buddie fic recs #buddie fic rec list 5 #buck x eddie #eddie diaz #evan 'buck' buckley #911 #911 fic recs #meegs rec list

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goodboyaudios · 1 month ago

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Now that BvZ6 is FINALLY out…I am pleased to announce the halfway mark for Gen 3!

We have 3 eps left for Pandora and Birds of Valhalla and 6 eps left for Bastards vs Zombies! With all that out there, I'm sure a few of you are wondering what Gen 4 is looking like!

Originally, the plan was for Gen 4 to have 3 series, like this gen. Each one with a recognizable face from prior gens, barring Gen 1.

However, this has proved to be a source adding to my burnout in previous instances, being constantly stuck in 3 or 4 voices constantly. So, I've changed things up a bit! Instead for Gen 4, I'll be doing 6 series! First will be a new series with brand new characters, then I'll go back to a classic after that one is done and I'll continue that pattern until completion!

On paper, it sounds like I'm giving myself more work, and I might be, but remember that I'm not giving myself any time limit on this. Each series is ultimately its own thing and I'll be working on them all at my own pace.

Here's the order of things and series descriptions. (Some of these are working titles)

Gladiator Azul - 8 combatants, (me and 7 other VAs) will compete in a 1v1 tournament to the death in order to be granted a wish. The location is the planet Palta, which is a location a few of my lore nerds will pick up on~ The best part about this story, is that it's a complete mystery, even to me, who's going to win! It's completely decided by chance, but a chance influenced by the viewers through cryptic clues~

Magic of the Heart 2: Curse of Khan (This was Blind Snake. I didn't like the name) - You are a Lamia, the remnants of the Snake Titan's soul. You've been brought into this world by your beloved lord, Nosferatu. One day, he tasks you to become a double agent by staging an escape for you and a captured wizard that you might be quite familiar with. When you and Zed "escape" from Nosferatu, you must make a decision, betray Nosferatu, or betray Zed…

Dragonslayers - You are the squire to the most esteemed Knight under the Paladin King. The Knight Grand Champion, Sirius Gearfried. You've gone on adventures together for 5 years now and you're about to go on your biggest one yet! The Paladin King has tasked his most trusted knight with gathering up the strongest warriors from across the realm for a dangerous mission into the unknown reaches of Dragonspace!

Loki and the War of Sinn - More will be talked about this at a later date, but before you ask, yes it's gonna have Odin and Tyr. And yes, you will be Loki.

Alchemical Strawberry Cheesecake - We now go BACK to Manas for a bit of magical melodrama! You are entered into a cooking competition at Saurethol Academy! You're partnered up with a boy named Vemmy, who thought this extra-curricular would be an easy A. Now, he's in a high-stakes contest, travelling to different schools all over the world and is VERY in over his head…

Bastards vs Monsters - A couple of years have gone by. The threats have gotten more dangerous, but so have you.

#good boy audios #goodboyaudios #youtube #asmr roleplay #asmr boyfriend

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sleepisoverrated · 1 year ago

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My headcanons about Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson is smart.

Like I hate it when they make him a dumb bimbo, he's hot yes he knows it, but he also has been hacking into the Pentagon for fun since he was ten, survived Spyral and several almost apocalypses. I know it's cannon since no Bat is dumb, but some fics, SOME FICS, make him look like he never went to school.

Dick Grayson knows so many languages.

I assume due to the fact that he grew up in a traveling circus he already knew a lot of languages(even if his english was bad when his parents died), but due to being robin and Bruce Wayne's ward he learned basically all major languages on Earth( and some alien) like Romani, German, French, Russian, English, Italian, Greek, Spanish, Irish, Finish, Japanese, Mandarin, Cantonese, Indian, Latin, backwards speech(Zatara), Tamoranian(i think that's how you spell it), Kryptonian, speedster(when speedsters talk super fast) and so on.

Dick Grayson has at least some immunity against Fear toxin(Ft), Joker venom(Jv).

And most of the other poisons due to constant exposure since he was 9, also when he was younger there were no antidotes for Ft and Jv so he learned how to ride them out without a sound. (You can't tell me it hasn't fucked him up somehow, like a 9 y/o being constantly exposed to these things HAS to have some consequences and while he has his immunity I also think he has extreme anxiety( like all the bats a.k.a. Bat paranoia) and constant panic attacks(next headcanon))

Dick Grayson is a master at controlling his body.

Besides the fact that he probably learned acrobatics before he could walk and was a stage performer(always smiled even if the performance got off the rails) I also think he has taught himself complete control of his body due to far too many close calls. He learned to control each muscle individually for combat under high-stress situations(where he most needs that control). This had a side effect of him being able to control his face muscle/expressions and body language. He became the best actor there will ever be, because he can keep a smile on his face even if he is in excruciating pain, he can look completely calm and relaxed even though he is having a panic attack and the opposite is true as well he can look completely terrified even though he is amused. Because of this you need to know him extremely well to tell if he's in distress(the only people so far are Alfred, Damian and Slade(he's obsessed))

Anyway if you want more of the headcanon's just say, Nightwing is one of my favourite characters I can rant about him much longer.

#dick grayson #batman #nightwing #robin #dc headcanon #nightwing headcanon #dc fandome #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #dc fanon

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burstfoot · 9 months ago

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which Operator in your opinion has the biggest disparity between game performance and lore strength?

Weak in-lore, strong in-game: Goldenglow is a hairdresser who has never once experienced combat, takes elementary-school level arts classes to control her (admittedly uniquely powerful, but uncontrolled and wild) arts, and generally has no desire to be on the battlefield, to the point that multiple of her lines are about her panicking or being baffled you select her for combat. In game, she's a 6-star caster who can directly target any enemy from anywhere on the map with pinpoint precision, and is one of the best casters in the entire game. Strong-in-lore, weak in game: Santalla, who many people thought would be a 6-star before Black Forest came out, with a reputation for a legendarily strong control over snow and ice, and a kill count on trained Ursus soldiers potentially in the dozens - is a 5 star splash caster, who, while she has an admittedly strong S2 if you know how to use it, suffers from all of the drawbacks other splash casters do - long attack interval, unreasonably high DP cost, etc.

Honorable Mentions: Weak-in-lore, strong in-game: Upcoming Zuo Le, who is a very young Yanese soldier and not particularly strong as of Vernal Winds: The strongest Musha in the entire game, powercreeping the hell out of Hellagur, who is a very experienced and trained war-veteran

Ch'en the Holungday: Ch'en is very experienced in combat. However, I don't think her putting on a bikini and getting a pressurized water gun would logically make her an infamously overpowered unit Penance: Just a judge with no combat experience, incredibly tanky and able to solo the Patriot stage all by herself in-game. U-Official: Her self-stun ability sounds silly, but being able to stun enemies for that long at 3dp and 0 deployment cost is actually one of the strongest abilities in the game and has saved me from leaking on multiple IS stages. In lore she is a stupid streamer who's money hungry and can't do fucking anything, but she's probably the strongest 1 star unit.

Strong-in-lore, weak-in-game: Rosmontis is an extremely powerful telekinetic caster who can tear buildings apart with her arts, but in-game, her subclasses mechanics mean she's handicapped by basically any enemy with above-average defense, on top of being entirely incapable of hitting aerial units.

Scavenger & Projekt Red: Both members of Kal'tsits personal special execution squad - neither are particularly bad units, but being a member of S.W.E.E.P. should probably realistically put you above 4 and 5 stars respectively. Dusk: A fragment of Sui, able to create pocket dimensions to trap people for extended periods of time within her art, a ridiculously powerful ability: Suffers from many of the same problems as Santalla being a splash caster, but at least her module and being a 6-star makes her better. Most accurately powerful unit: Logos, who in-game is the King of the Banshees and has legendarily powerful arts, is probably the strongest caster in the entire game on CN right now.

#arknights #burstmail #they got it spot on with logos #i think there's prrrrrobably a better choice than santalla? but my :( when she wasnt a six star gets her to that spot #i think she should've been the six star and typhon could um. Not be there. sorry typhon

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sinnabarmoth · 7 days ago

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Chasing Your Shooting Star (1/19)

(A/N: I have been dying to write this fic for forever! And I finally got to a point where I feel comfortable enough in the new semester to start writing long fic again so here we go! Xavier University AU because I need this rn.)

Pairing: Uni Student|Xavier x Uni Student|Reader (fem)

Summary: Reader is starting her senior year at the prestigious Philos University. She's determined to keep her rank at the top of her class but a hiccup in her plans comes in the form of a handsome transfer student named Xavier.

Content warnings: Adult language.

Length: 3600

Chapters: (2) (3)

Read on AO3

Nothing in life came easy and it certainly did not come for free. You had been taught that nothing worth having came without some struggle. To be accomplished you had to earn it through hard work and a little sacrifice. Another necessity was letting go of distractions. If you did not need it, you could live without it.

Such a life is what led you here, Philos University of Cosmic Excellence. The single best university in all of Philos. Just to be accepted was a high honor and if you managed to survive getting a degree it all but guaranteed a spot anywhere you wanted to pursue a career. It was also the leading university in combat training, producing some of the best military agents in the world. The goal of the university was to create people that were forces of good in the world, as either a warrior or an academic.

It was a bright late summer day and you were starting your senior year at the university. Two more semesters and you’d be a graduate and the rest of your life would begin. It was exciting and daunting. So close to the end yet still so far left to go.

Your place at the university had been assured thanks to your outstanding academics. Ever since you were a child you had placed at the very top of your schools’ leader boards, both in combat and academics. You were a smart girl and you worked hard but you also knew to give credit where credit was due. The person who had pushed you to be the very best that you could be was your mother. She had instilled a great sense of personal pride and drive for success in you from an early age. Without her you don’t know where you’d be.

A testament to just how successful you could be was your maternal line. Your mother had become the dean of the prestigious university you now were set to graduate from. Even your great grandmother had been the founder of the most successful deepspace aircraft assembly company in the world and passed it down to your grandmother. Your mother would have inherited it if not for her becoming the dean instead.

Now there was you.

You strode across the campus, following the crowd of students for the welcoming ceremony. It was mandatory for everyone whether you were a new student or not.

You went to take a seat. You had to sit somewhere closer to the front or else your mother would get upset that she couldn’t see you during her welcome speech. Something about unity or something like that. You didn’t entirely see how it mattered since you were one person in a sea of people and it wasn’t like you had a special seat or anything.

But anyway, you found a seat and sat through the long welcoming speech from your mother and some other staff that laid out expectations, rules, well wishes and the like. About halfway through the speeches though you noticed that the blonde guy in front of you was starting to doze off.

Then a small snore came out of him and you realized that he had fully fallen asleep. You knew your mother wasn’t the most dynamic speaker but a little more respect! Also, if she saw someone this close to the stage falling asleep she was going to be pissed. You glanced at the stage making sure your mother wasn’t looking your way and kicked the back of his chair.

He jolted awake and stretched his head back to look at you. Your breath caught up in your chest for a second as you looked at him. He was rather handsome. He had a cute face at least. His large pale blue eyes widened slightly as he took you in. “Did I fall asleep?” he asked, his voice just as hazy as his demeanor.

You shook off the initial surprise and cocked your head at him. “Is that even a question?”

“Right…sorry.” he continued to stare at you.

Your face started to heat with the attention and you kicked his chair again. “Watch the dean!” you hissed at him.

“Oh right,” he said, as if broken from some spell and turned around. He sat straight and kept his attention forward for the rest of the welcoming ceremony.

You didn’t think more of the interaction and when everyone was dismissed you got up and made for the stage to greet your mother and give your usual praise for a good start of semester speech. “Thank you, my dear.” your mother said, smiling affectionately. “I thought I spotted some altercation between you and one of the other students during the speech though.”

She had seen that? You had been so sure she wasn’t looking. Then again the woman acted like she had eyes in the back of her head when it came to you.

“Oh it was nothing, the guy in front of me had misheard something you said and asked me for clarification.” the lie fell clunkily from your mouth. You weren’t used to lying to your mother and you prayed that your reputation would aid you. You didn’t want to admit the real reason that guy had been talking to you. He didn’t deserve the ire of your mother for something as small as nodding off during an admittedly very boring and repetitive speech.

“He asked the right person then, didn’t he? I don’t think there’s a person alive that knows my speech better than you.” she said and you let the tension in your shoulders ease.

“Yes. Shall we go to the welcome brunch?” you said and looped your arm with your mother’s to go to the awaiting meal in the main mess hall.

The day passed without any more incident and you were able to return to your room. While you prided yourself on having gotten into Philos University on your own academic merits there was one little perk you had gotten as the dean’s daughter. That was you had the privilege of a private dorm and adjoining bath. There was one building on campus that had a small number of this types of dorms and it was a lottery to see who got to have one for that semester. Being the dean’s daughter though your mother had been able to reserve you one for the extent of your academic career. At first you had fought it because you didn’t want special treatment but she had insisted and after the first semester you were glad to have the privacy.

The next day was the official start of classes. You got dressed and went to your first class. You got to the lecture hall and took a seat near the back. For as studious as you were you didn’t focus well in the front. You didn’t like the feeling of everyone behind you being able to look at you. You couldn’t say why but it just unnerved you in some way and so you tended to drift towards the back where seeing you was harder.

You sat down as other students filed in. You knew pretty much everyone by now. By the time you were a senior you had been able to single out who was in your degree program because they showed up in all the same classes. So it was no surprise to you when every single one of them kept at least a one seat buffer from you.

You tried not to think about it. Even if you did know why they avoided you. You weren’t exactly the most social person and over the years your preference for solitude had come across to the other students as being purposefully standoffish. It also didn’t help that your constant status as the top of your class on the ranking boards made people mad. No one had been able to tear you down from the pedestal you had built and it pissed them off that to them the real number one spot was actually still number two.

It was fine though. You didn’t need them. They’d just be a distraction. Besides, you could have as many friends as you wanted after you graduated. It was just important that you focus on your studies now. It was--

“Good morning. Is this seat taken?”

You looked up, startled that someone was addressing you and saw the guy from the welcome ceremony standing next to you point at the desk to your immediate left.

“Oh uh, no. It’s all yours.” you said.

“Thanks.” he sat down.

Why was he sitting back here? There were plenty of seats still available everywhere else. Then again, you didn’t recognize him. This was a core class for your program so if he was in your program you hadn’t seen him before. Could he have been a new student? This was an intense class so it was only recommended to be taken by student in their senior year since they’d have had time to understand the material from the years before. So either he was a transfer student, he was a regular student with a huge makeover that made him unrecognizable, or he was someone who was woefully unprepared for what was about to happen in this class. You knew this teacher, this teacher was your advisor and she pulled zero punches when it came to her classes and if this guy didn’t have any kind of foundation to stand on he was going to drown immediately.

The class began and you couldn’t help stealing glances at him. He didn’t seem to be struggling with the work, took notes diligently, paid attention and didn’t look like he was going to fall asleep again. There was one time you glanced over at him and caught him looking at you. He gave you a small smile and went back to his notes.

After class ended you gathered up your things and turned to see the guy was waiting for you, or at least it looked like he was waiting for you.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

“I just wanted to introduce myself since I forgot to before class started.” he said, holding out a hand. “I’m Xavier.”

You shook his hand and introduced yourself, you weren’t rude after all. “I uh…” you looked around the mostly empty lecture hall and shrugged, “I only have fifteen minutes to get to my next class and it is clear on the other side of campus so I gotta go but, yeah. Nice to meet you. I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Nice to meet you too.” he hefted his bag on his shoulder and left.

Okay…you really didn’t know what to make of this guy.

You went to your next class and afterwards you had a short break so you went to the library to get some work done before you had your final class of the day. Now, while your degree was for academics you had still elected into taking the university’s combat training class as well. It was important to be able to defend yourself and if for some reason you ever got drafted into the forces you’d need to be able to fight. It was also something your mother had been insistent on you doing anyway so there was no getting around it. Just another subject that you had to strive to be the best in.

You changed into the combat training uniform in the locker room with the other women and stepped out to start stretching and warming yourself up. Some of the other students helped each other stretch or were warming up together and talking happily with one another. Something burned in your chest but you shoved it down and continued with your normal routine.

“Hey, it’s you again.” That Xavier guy walked up to you in the same combat uniform.

“And it is you.” you said, pausing to address him. “I didn’t realize you were taking combat training as well.”

“Oh well, it is--”

Before he could finish the instructor came out blowing their whistle to gather everyone’s attention. Everyone immediately fell into a single file line as the instructor started outlining the goals and intentions of this training. Your class were all senior level so there would be no handicap modifiers, which meant a much more intense and physically demanding workload than in previous years. You couldn’t help glancing down the line at Xavier again. You were sure you did not know this guy. Anyone in senior level combat training would have to have been in previous classes but you did not recognize him. You know you would have recognized a face that handsome.

Ugh! No! Focus! You shook the distraction from your mind and focused on the teacher again.

“To start today, I want a basic assessment of your skills. To do this we are going to be pairing off in duels. We will do this every week for the entire semester. Pairings will be based off of class rank. Since the scores for this year have yet to be determined we will be going with ranks based off of where you landed last semester. We will be going from lowest to highest. Everyone, when it is not your time to be dueling you will be watching the students that are fighting and assessing their movements and techniques. Is that understood?”

The class echoed back a militaristic yes and the instructor called up the first pair to start dueling. You sat down and prepared yourself to wait for a while. When last semester ended you had been the top of the class so your duel was going to be saved for last.

You sat and watched the other students do their duels, mentally critiquing their form and giving verbal critiques when the instructor asked the class where the loser of the duel went wrong. Your assessments gained no shortage of glares from the losers. Whatever. You were used to it. Besides, if they didn’t want to get critiqued for their poor performance they shouldn’t be in a combat class.

As more and more students were called up you couldn’t help looking over at Xavier again and again. When was he going to get called up? You were getting into the high rankings and he had yet to be called for a duel. Maybe since he was a new student he was just watching for today. But that didn’t make sense.

Finally your name was called and you walked to the center of the room, picking up one of the practice swords as you did. Then the instructor called the name of your opponent. “Xavier Shen.”

Your eyes went wide as Xavier stood up and collected the other practice sword. Xavier? The new kid that you hadn’t seen before? He was the one facing you in training? Something about this felt wrong. Why pair the new kid with you? Was he actually that good of a fighter? He had to be if he was standing up here with you.

Well, no matter how good of a fighter he was you knew where your skills were. Even the second best fighter in your combat training could barely keep up with you so what chance did this transfer student or whatever he was have against you? You readied into a fighting stance, determined to end this quickly.

Xavier didn’t at all seem perturbed by the events about to transpire but there was something in his demeanor that changed as he readied into his own stance. His gaze was sharper and he looked far more sure of himself. It was such a far cry from the guy you caught sleeping during the welcoming ceremony or the gentle smile he had given you during your morning class when you caught him staring at you.

The instructor blew their whistle to start the match and you lunged, letting instinct take over as you sparred with Xavier. You hadn’t expected much of a fight and that was probably your fault for what happened next. Xavier while fighting was a different person entirely. He was quick and strong and precise and if it wasn’t for the fact that you realized what you were suddenly up against he would have put you on your ass in mere seconds. You corrected, focusing more intently and fighting back harder.

On and on you went, dodging hits and trading blows that were just barely parried. You were starting to get frustrated by how difficult this was getting and in that moment of irritation was your downfall. Literally. Xavier had managed to knock the practice sword out of your hands and the sudden loss of it sent you off balance and you fell hard on your ass.

You…you lost.

“Winner, Shen!” the instructor announced and the other students started applauding like mad. They never cheered like this when you won a match.

You were still on the ground stunned that you had lost. What the fuck had happened? When did you leave yourself open to attack? It must have been a fluke. You had been too cavalier in the beginning and it gave him an advantage. Yes. That had to be it.

“Oh, here, let me.” Xavier held out a hand for you. A part of you wanted to be petty and ignore it but you decided that was unsportsmanlike and accepted the hand. He hauled you to your feet with ease. He was also deceptively strong underneath the loose fitting combat uniform.

“That was an…impressive first match.” you said. “I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t that.”

“Oh thanks. You were great too, you are an formidable combatant.” he said.

“Thanks.” you picked up your discarded practice sword. “So, I know I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a transfer student?”

“Yes, I am.” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “I thought it a tad ridiculous to transfer when I was so close to graduating but when you have the chance to go to Philos University you take it.”

“I see. So where did you transfer from? Wait, let me guess.” you pondered for a second about what other university could have produced such an excellent fighter. “Genity Military Academy?”

“No.”

Hmm. “Nesonia University of Wonders?”

“Nope.” he shook his head.

“Huh, where are you from then?” Genity and Nesonia were the two best universities for combatants and if he wasn’t from either of them you had no idea where he could have come from.

“I transferred from Danora University.”

“I’m not familiar with that one.”

“It’s a local university near my hometown in the Danora mountain range. It’s actually on the entire other side of the continent.” Xavier answered, looking a little sheepish.

A local university? The mountain range?

No.

No. That couldn’t be real. There was no way a kid from the fucking middle of nowhere like the mountains, who went to a no-name university had beaten you! There was no fucking way! Oh gods above your mother was going to kill you.

“I see.” you nodded, swallowing down the indignation that crawled like a sickness up your throat. “Well, glad to see you are making your hometown proud.” you forced out.

You heard some of the other student behind you snickering and heat began to fill your face. “I’m going to go get changed now. Excuse me.” you turned to leave.

As you returned to the locker room to rinse off and get changed you heard the other girls talking.

“I don’t know who this new kid is but thank the gods that he is here to knock the little queen bee off her pedestal.” one of them said. “Did you see her face when he knocked her on her ass? Oh, I wish I could have been recording that.”

“Now maybe she’ll stop being so high and mighty.” another said. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Oh please, you saw the way she stormed off after he beat her. She was trying to keep a straight face but you could tell she was pissed. I thought for a second she was going to start throwing a tantrum.” the girls laughed.

You took in a deep breath. It was nothing. Just words. They’re just mad that they aren’t at your level. That’s it. It’s just jealousy.

“Come on guys, she’s not that bad.” another girl spoke up in your defense.

“You’re right. She’s worse.” the girls went back to laughing and gabbing and you stayed hidden back in the showers, not wanting to go out and face them all. They had to know you were in here. They were just saying all this to fuck with you.

“I’m more interested in the guy she was fighting, his name was Xavier, right?” one of the girls said. “He’s pretty cute and he can fight well. It makes me wonder if he has that much stamina for other things.”

“Irene!” the girls balked. “You’re terrible.”

“Terribly single and he’s a transfer student so I doubt he has a girlfriend. Besides, don’t tell me none of you weren’t thinking the same thing.”

They continued to laugh and talk before the finally cleared out of the locker room. You stepped out of your hiding place and got changed.

It was fine. All of this was just a novelty. It was the first day of the semester. You had plenty of time to turn things around. Besides, it was one duel. A fluke. Your mom wasn’t bound to notice this one little hiccup and life could move forward. You’d keep your place as the top of your class and everything would be fine.

You would be fine.

#love and deepspace #lads xavier #lads mc #xavier x mc #xavier x reader #university au

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 1 year ago

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*steps on stage nervously*

Uhh.. umm. Uhhhhh

Spidey Academy AU!!

Like Xavier's School for Gifted Children, Miguel - a Spider-person fond of kids, opened a Spidey-Science Academy, for the Spidey-people of the universe

It's not like a high school. There's five years and the years are not really sorted by age - but by experience.

So Hobie would be a year 3 - a middleclass-man

Pavitr is a year 1 - a freshman

And the classes, are all based on honing your Spider-powers and senses.

There's assignments, things you have to take home and do.

They're give you a fake evil Doc Ock chip and have you decode it and make it good again (like Peter in No Way Home).

Or they ask you to stop a petty robbery without using your webs. You have to bring in the Daily Bugles article on you the next day and they grade you on that.

(Hey say what you want but Jonah reports the facts he just talks a lot of shit)

Any class a Spider-person needs, they have.

You name it-

Home Ec? No. Sewing and Suit Repair Class

Gym? No. Swinging & Strength Endurance

Science? ALL ADVANCED. Freshmen's take Advanced Spider-biology and have to learn ALL the different Spider-variations and illnesses Spider-people can get. Multiversal Physics.

All of the honor classes are FULL.

There's also other helpful ones like Firefighting Training and Sign Language (both mandatory), hence how Insomniac!Miles is completely fluent in ASL.

Oh - also. Because Miguel is such a tight-ass -

UNIFORMS. Sweater vests over pants or shorts. (No skirts cause they still be upsidedown and shit)

You have to bring your mask everyday. It's like your ID card

y'all ever had that? Like y'all needed an ID to get into school and if you didn't have it they charged you? Like money? My school did that we also had metal detectors like the airport I'm so deadass this was just a normal public school - I'm getting distracted, anyway-

Of COURSE Ms.Jessica Drew is Assistant Principal. OF COURSE she also teaches Advanced Combat and Strategies class.

And YES she's a hard-ass grader. Has never given a 100% in her life. On some 'This was the best thing I've read in my entire teaching career but you forgot to indent on paragraph 5 so 99%'

She doesn't give a fuck about your GPA!!!

Unlike Mr.Peter B. Parker.

He makes people call him 'Professor PB'. He wants to be the cool teacher.

His classroom is SO FUN during lunch time. Probably runs the anime and manga club. He's that really nerdy teacher that you don't expect to be like "I know what anime is! I grew up on Dragon Ball 😁

His class are always fun but SO chaotic. Still wears sweatpants sometimes. He's the Science teacher.

And every year they take class photos and there's a Spidey homecoming where everyone parties on the walls in cute outfits.

CAN YOU SEE IT?

Swinging Team instead of Track and Field???

CAN YOU IMAGINE IT?

MIGUEL AS PRINCIPAL???

LYLA BEING THE LOUD SPEAKER ANNOUNCER?

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rakstagecombat · 1 year ago

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Silverthorn CI (TDSB)

"Chris is a true professional. My drama classes LOVED having him! He did a great job holding their attention, and is clearly an expert stage fighter. I highly recommend him for your class! Excellent person to work with." ~ Tyler Rizzuto

#stage combat #siege stage combat #stage combat workshop #high school stage combat #siegeto #gta #high school workshop #high school #TDSB #Silverthorn CI #workshop

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hookhausenschips · 1 month ago

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Bond Beyond The Ring

Navigation

WC: 4.2k

Taglist

Requested by @wrestlingbaby

The match was over, and the roaring crowd was a chorus in Y/N’s ears. She leaned against the ropes, chest heaving as she caught her breath, her body still vibrating with the thrill of combat. The spotlight warmed her skin as she glanced around the arena, taking in the sea of cheering fans. They chanted her name, a sound that filled her with pride and gratitude.

Sliding out of the ring, Y/N slapped hands with the front-row fans, flashing her signature smile despite the ache in her muscles. The walk to the back was a familiar one, but it never felt routine. Every night in All Elite Wrestling was a new chapter, a new chance to prove herself.

Backstage, she didn’t have time to dwell on the match’s highs or lows because she knew exactly what waited for her—a burst of laughter and camaraderie with her closest friend in the business, Anthony Bowens.

Anthony Bowens was sprawled out on one of the benches in the locker room, his long legs stretched out in a way that made it clear he had no intention of moving anytime soon. His phone rested loosely in one hand, but the mischievous grin on his face gave him away—he was already planning some kind of retort or comeback. Y/N approached with the energy of someone who had too much adrenaline left after a match, her phone held high like a championship belt.

“Alright, Bowens. TikTok time,” she declared with mock authority, dropping down beside him so forcefully that the bench creaked under her weight.

Bowens groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Haven’t you humiliated me enough this week? My dancing is a public hazard at this point.”

“Humiliated you?” she shot back, her tone dripping with mock indignation. “Please. I’ve made you go viral. You should be thanking me. You’re welcome, by the way.”

She was already scrolling through her app, her face lighting up as she landed on a trending dance. “Oh, this is the one,” she said, pointing at the screen like it held the secret to eternal life. Her excitement was contagious, and Bowens couldn’t help but laugh.

“Again with the dancing?” he said, slowly getting to his feet with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re gonna kill my knees before I’m thirty.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” she quipped, standing next to him and pulling him into frame. “Now stop whining and hit this pose.”

“Pose? What is this, modeling school?” Bowens teased, but he mirrored her stance anyway, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

As they began stumbling through the choreography, their laughter filled the room, a perfect counterpoint to the sterile hum of the overhead lights. Y/N’s expression was a mix of concentration and exasperation as she kept pausing the music to critique Bowens’ steps.

“No, no, no! You’re too stiff, Anthony. You have to loosen up!” she said, shaking her arms wildly to demonstrate.

“Loosen up?” he repeated, attempting to mimic her movement but looking more like a malfunctioning robot. “This is as loose as I get, Y/N!”

“You’re impossible!” she shouted through her laughter, doubling over as Bowens broke into a ridiculous freestyle, making exaggerated moves that were nowhere close to the choreography.

Nearby, the Blackpool Combat Club sat, their presence heavy and still, like storm clouds gathering in a bright sky. Wheeler Yuta’s hands froze over the laces of his boots, his brow furrowing as he watched the scene play out. Jon Moxley leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw set in a hard line. Bryan Danielson exchanged a glance with Claudio Castagnoli, whose expression was unreadable, though the tension in his posture spoke volumes.

“Why don’t they just rent a comedy stage?” Mox muttered under his breath, his gravelly voice barely audible.

Bryan shrugged, but his lips thinned as he looked away from the pair. “They’re at it again.”

Wheeler glanced up, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’ve been at it for weeks.”

Y/N and Bowens were too caught up in their antics to notice the simmering tension a few feet away. She clapped her hands in triumph as they finally nailed the last step, spinning to check their reflection in the camera.

“See? Told you we could pull it off!” Y/N exclaimed, nudging Bowens with her shoulder.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna need a chiropractor after this, but sure, we pulled it off.”

The two dissolved into laughter again, their bond as easy and natural as breathing. But in the corner, the Blackpool Combat Club sat in heavy silence, their presence a shadow that loomed over the bright moment. None of them said another word, but their tension spoke volumes.

Wheeler Yuta’s hands froze mid-lace on his boots, the rhythm of his movements interrupted as the sound of Y/N and Anthony Bowens’ laughter echoed across the locker room. His jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the laces as if the tension in his chest had traveled to his hands. He glanced toward them, his lips pressing into a hard line.

A few feet away, Jon Moxley leaned back against the wall, his broad shoulders resting against the cold steel lockers. His arms were crossed over his chest, the veins on his forearms prominent as he gripped his biceps tightly. His scowl deepened with every burst of laughter that erupted from the pair. His ice-blue eyes flicked toward them briefly before darting away, as if the sight alone was an irritant.

Claudio Castagnoli sat at the end of a bench, his massive hands resting on his thighs. The tension in his posture was evident—his normally relaxed demeanor replaced with a stiffness that seemed uncharacteristic. He caught Bryan Danielson’s eye, and the brief glance they exchanged was heavy with unspoken frustration.

“They’re at it again,” Wheeler muttered under his breath, breaking the silence. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried a sharp edge, the kind of bitterness that lingers after being sidelined one too many times.

Bryan’s gaze lingered on Y/N for a moment, his lips twitching as if he were holding back something he’d regret saying out loud. His expression was thoughtful but tense, his brows furrowed just enough to betray his annoyance. Finally, he shook his head, exhaling slowly. “She’s been glued to him for weeks,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with a note of disappointment.

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy and loaded.

Moxley, ever the one to cut through the silence, let out a low, gruff sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a growl. “Too busy making videos to remember who brought her into the fold,” he said, his tone sharp, cutting.

His words hit the air like a thrown gauntlet, and Claudio shifted slightly, the bench creaking under his weight. His expression was unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw and the flicker in his dark eyes gave him away.

“She doesn’t see it,” Wheeler added, almost to himself, as if he were trying to make sense of it all.

Bryan let out another sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the lockers. “She doesn’t see it because she’s too busy... laughing, dancing, being everywhere except here.”

Jon pushed off the wall slightly, his presence as commanding as ever despite his stillness. “She’s one of us,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “She’s supposed to have our backs.”

There was no response to that—not from Bryan, not from Claudio, not from Wheeler. Instead, the four of them sat in silence, their collective frustration and hurt simmering just beneath the surface.

In the distance, Y/N and Bowens’ laughter echoed again, oblivious to the storm brewing in the corners of the locker room. To Y/N, it was another lighthearted moment, but to the Blackpool Combat Club, it was a painful reminder of what they felt they’d lost.

I didn’t see it at first.

When I look back now, I wonder how I missed the way the atmosphere shifted, how the weight of the room seemed to change as soon as I walked in. The Blackpool Combat Club—Jon, Bryan, Claudio, Wheeler—had always been my foundation. They weren’t just a team; they were my brothers. My safe haven. No matter what the day threw at me, I knew they’d have my back.

But lately, stepping into the locker room felt like walking into enemy territory.

It was subtle at first. Jon wouldn’t even glance in my direction half the time. The man who had been a gruff but constant source of support, who had always made a point of acknowledging me—even if it was just with a muttered “Good match” or a nod—acted like I didn’t exist. His icy indifference cut deeper than I wanted to admit.

Wheeler was worse. He didn’t just ignore me—he avoided me. Conversations that used to flow easily between us now felt strained or nonexistent. If I tried to talk to him, he’d mumble something, barely looking up from whatever he was doing, his eyes fixed on his boots or the floor as if I wasn’t worth the effort.

And Claudio... Claudio was the one I thought would never change. He was warmth personified, a calming presence in a world that was often chaotic. But even he had grown distant. Conversations that used to come with his easy, genuine smile were now brief and clipped, his tone neutral at best, cold at worst.

Then there was Bryan. Bryan, who I had always seen as the glue that held us together, the one who could talk us through any conflict, had simply shut me out. No eye contact. No words. Just... silence.

It stung more than I was willing to admit.

At first, I told myself it wasn’t personal. They were just tired. We all were. The grind of wrestling wasn’t for the faint of heart. The endless matches, the brutal travel schedules, the constant pressure to improve—to be better, faster, stronger—it could wear anyone down. Maybe they were just overwhelmed.

But then, the little things began to add up. The glares I caught from the corner of my eye. The way conversations stopped as soon as I walked into the room. The pointed silence that seemed to wrap around me like a cloak. And the worst part? The way they’d close ranks. It was subtle but deliberate, their body language shifting to make it clear that I wasn’t part of the circle anymore.

It was like I’d been pushed to the outside, watching as they locked themselves away in a place I couldn’t reach.

That’s when I knew something was wrong. This wasn’t just fatigue. This wasn’t just the wear and tear of the road. This was different.

And it hurt. It hurt more than I wanted to admit, because no matter what, I still cared about them. They weren’t just my teammates. They were my family. Or at least, they had been.

Now, I wasn’t so sure.

Y/N tried to bridge the gap, but every attempt felt like throwing a pebble against a brick wall. No matter how hard she tried, nothing seemed to break through.

One evening, after a particularly grueling match, she decided to try again. Claudio was sitting on the bench, his massive frame hunched over as he scrolled through his phone. He was always the most approachable, the one who could soften even the toughest situations. If anyone was willing to talk, it would be him.

She leaned casually against the lockers, keeping her tone light. “Hey, Claudio, want to grab food after the show? I heard there’s a great spot nearby.”

For a second, she thought he might smile or at least look up, but he didn’t. His eyes stayed glued to his phone, his thumb idly scrolling as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

“No, I’m good,” he said finally, his voice flat, devoid of the usual warmth she had come to count on.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness. She forced a laugh, trying to mask the sting. “Alright, maybe another time,” she said, her words hanging awkwardly in the air.

Claudio didn’t respond, didn’t even nod. The silence that followed was louder than any rejection.

Y/N swallowed hard, her smile faltering as she pushed off the lockers and turned away. She hadn’t made it far when she spotted Bryan Danielson walking down the hallway, his stride purposeful as always. If anyone understood the importance of communication, it was Bryan. He’d been the mediator in countless tense moments before.

She quickened her pace to catch up with him. “Bry,” she called out, her voice a mix of hope and determination. “What do you think about—”

“Not now,” he cut her off sharply, not even breaking his stride.

Y/N froze mid-sentence, her words dying in her throat. She stood there, stunned, as Bryan disappeared around the corner without so much as a backward glance.

Her heart sank, a dull ache spreading through her chest. She had always prided herself on being strong, on rolling with the punches no matter what. But this? This was different. This wasn’t an opponent in the ring, a challenge she could overcome with sheer grit or determination. This was her family, shutting her out without explanation, and it was tearing her apart.

She stayed rooted in the hallway for a moment longer, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield against the cold indifference that had just been hurled her way. No matter how hard she tried to bridge the gap, it seemed to widen with every step.

The breaking point came after a show in Chicago.

It had been a long night—a sold-out crowd, an adrenaline-filled match, and a post-show buzz that should have left me on a high. Instead, I found myself pacing the hallways backstage, my frustration bubbling over with every step. I couldn’t take it anymore. These weren’t just coworkers—they were my family. The people who’d picked me up after losses, celebrated my wins, and stood by my side through the chaos of life in wrestling.

If I’d done something to hurt them, they owed it to me to say it.

Determined, I turned a corner and saw them in the locker room, just like always. Jon sat at the center, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his intense eyes fixed on the floor as if deep in thought. Bryan stood near the lockers, arms crossed, his face unreadable but tense. Claudio and Wheeler were seated across from each other, their postures stiff, their expressions a mix of discomfort and something I couldn’t quite place.

The sight of them huddled in quiet conversation—so close-knit, so locked in—lit a fire in my chest. They looked like a fortress, impenetrable, and for the first time, I realized I wasn’t inside those walls anymore.

I didn’t hesitate. I stormed into the room, the sound of my boots on the floor breaking their quiet.

“Alright,” I said, my voice sharp and unwavering. “What the hell is going on?”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and all four heads turned toward me.

Jon’s expression shifted immediately, his jaw tightening as his blue eyes narrowed. Bryan’s arms stayed crossed, but his posture stiffened, a flicker of unease crossing his face. Claudio glanced at Wheeler, who looked away quickly, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“What are you talking about?” Moxley asked, his tone flat but carrying that edge of irritation he always had when something—or someone—rubbed him the wrong way.

I took a step forward, refusing to let them dismiss me. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I shot back, my voice rising. “You’ve been ignoring me for weeks. Acting like I don’t exist. Did I do something? Because if I did, I’d really like to know.”

Jon leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable but cold. “Nobody’s ignoring you,” he said, the words clipped, like he was trying to shut the conversation down before it could even start.

“Bullshit,” I said, the anger in my voice catching even me off guard. “Don’t lie to me, Jon. I’m not stupid. You’ve all been avoiding me, treating me like some outsider. And for what? If I did something, just say it. Don’t play this silent game with me.”

The room went silent. The tension was so thick I could feel it pressing against my chest, making it harder to breathe.

Bryan shifted, uncrossing his arms and exhaling slowly. Claudio looked down at his hands, and Wheeler wouldn’t even meet my eyes. Jon, however, stayed locked on me, his gaze unwavering, his lips pressing into a tight, thin line.

“What’s it gonna be?” I asked, my voice softer now but no less firm. “Talk to me. Or is shutting me out the only thing you’re good at these days?”

For a moment, no one said a word, the weight of my challenge hanging heavy in the air. I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, waiting for someone—anyone—to break the silence.

The silence was deafening, stretching across the room like a tangible force. It pressed against Y/N’s chest, suffocating in its intensity. Every pair of eyes seemed to avoid hers, save for Jon Moxley, whose steely gaze finally lifted to meet her.

Moxley stood, his movements deliberate, his posture rigid as if his body carried the weight of unspoken words. His stare was piercing, cutting through the room with an edge that made Y/N straighten her shoulders instinctively.

“It’s not about what you did,” he said at last, his voice low and gravelly, each word deliberate and measured. “It’s about who you’ve been spending all your damn time with.”

Y/N blinked, the accusation hitting her like a slap she hadn’t seen coming. Her brows furrowed, confusion knotting in her chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Bowens,” Wheeler Yuta muttered from his seat, his tone sharp, laced with bitterness. His hands fidgeted in his lap, but his eyes finally darted up to meet hers, his frustration clear. “It’s like we don’t even matter to you anymore.”

The words sank deep, and for a moment, Y/N was too stunned to respond. Her jaw tightened as she struggled to process what he’d just said.

Bryan Danielson let out a heavy sigh, his arms dropping to his sides as he stepped forward slightly. He wasn’t as blunt as Jon, nor as young and raw as Wheeler, but there was an unmistakable weariness in his voice when he spoke. “You’re always with him, Y/N. Always laughing, making videos, goofing off. Meanwhile, we’re over here—trying to focus, trying to keep this team together—and it feels like you’ve moved on.”

Moved on?

The words echoed in her head, stinging like an accusation she hadn’t prepared to defend against. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She stared at Bryan, at Wheeler, and finally at Moxley, whose intense glare hadn’t wavered.

“You think I’ve moved on?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her tone a mix of disbelief and hurt. “You think I don’t care about you anymore?”

“You don’t act like it,” Wheeler shot back, his voice quieter now but no less cutting. “You’re always with him. Every time we turn around, it’s Bowens this, Bowens that. TikToks, jokes, laughs—you don’t have time for us anymore.”

Claudio Castagnoli, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke up, his deep voice calm but firm. “We’re not saying you can’t have other friends, Y/N. But... you used to spend time with us. Talk with us. Lately, it’s like we’re the last people on your mind.”

Y/N looked around the room, her gaze moving from face to face. Each of them wore different expressions—anger, disappointment, frustration—but the common thread between them all was pain. They felt abandoned.

“I can’t believe this,” she said finally, her voice trembling. “You’re jealous. All of you.”

Jon’s jaw clenched at the word, his glare sharpening. “It’s not jealousy,” he said, his tone dangerous, his voice lowering even further. “It’s loyalty. We’re supposed to be a team. Family. But it feels like we’re the family you forgot about.”

His words hit like a hammer, cracking through the remaining layers of her composure. Y/N stood there, her heart pounding, as the silence returned, heavier than before.

For a moment, all I could do was stare at them, my mind struggling to catch up with what I’d just heard. Jealousy. That’s what this was.

They were jealous.

A disbelieving laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it, the sound sharp and brittle in the tense room. “You’re kidding me,” I said, my voice rising as I looked from face to face. “You’re mad because I’ve been hanging out with Anthony?”

Jon crossed his arms over his chest, his glare unwavering, while Wheeler shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Claudio’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn’t respond. But then he spoke, his voice even but undeniably tense.

“Not mad,” he said, though the clipped tone betrayed him. “Just... frustrated.” His dark eyes finally met mine, and there was something there—something raw and unguarded that made my stomach twist. “You used to be with us all the time. Now it feels like we’re the last people on your mind.”

His words hit harder than I expected, cutting through the disbelief that had been building in me.

I opened my mouth to argue, to fire back with something defensive—maybe even sarcastic. But the moment I really looked at them, the words died in my throat.

Jon’s glare wasn’t just anger. It was layered with something deeper, something I hadn’t noticed before: hurt. Bryan, who always wore an air of calm rationality, looked away when my gaze met his, as if he couldn’t bear the weight of the conversation. Claudio’s expression was tight, his usual warmth replaced by quiet disappointment. And Wheeler...

Wheeler looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. His hands fidgeted nervously, and his lips pressed into a thin, uncertain line. But it was the look in his eyes—an almost childlike mixture of frustration and sadness—that made my chest ache.

Suddenly, it didn’t feel so ridiculous.

They weren’t just mad. They weren’t just frustrated. They were hurt.

And the worst part? They had a reason to be.

Y/N took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling as she steadied herself. Her voice softened, no longer defensive, but filled with the sincerity she hoped they’d hear.

“You guys are my family,” she said, her tone firm but warm, her eyes moving from one face to the next. “You’ve always been my family. That hasn’t changed, and it never will. Just because I’ve been spending time with Anthony doesn’t mean I care about you any less. You’re my people—always have been, always will be.”

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. Y/N wasn’t sure what kind of reaction to expect. For a moment, no one spoke, the room still thick with the weight of unresolved emotions.

Then, Moxley broke the silence with a low grunt. He leaned back against the bench, his posture relaxing slightly, the tension in his broad shoulders melting away. A smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he glanced up at her.

“Well,” he muttered, his voice as gravelly as ever, “maybe next time, include us in one of those TikToks. Could use a little of that spotlight you’ve been hogging.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in mock surprise, her lips twitching into a grin. “You? Dancing? Now that’s something I’d pay to see.”

The tension cracked, like ice breaking under the warmth of the moment. Bryan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if the thought of Moxley dancing was too absurd to picture. Wheeler snorted, his fidgeting hands finally stilling, while Claudio let out a hearty laugh, his deep voice echoing in the small room.

“Don’t underestimate me, Y/N,” Mox said, his smirk growing into a full grin. “I’ve got moves.”

“You’ve got something,” Bryan chimed in, his voice teasing but light. “Not sure if it qualifies as dancing, though.”

The room erupted into laughter, the sound genuine and full of relief. The air that had been so thick with tension just minutes ago now felt lighter, almost buoyant. It wasn’t perfect—there were still things left unsaid, moments to work through—but the rift between them had begun to mend.

Y/N shook her head, a smile still playing on her lips as she took a seat on the bench beside them. For the first time in weeks, the distance she’d felt between herself and the Blackpool Combat Club seemed to shrink, replaced by the familiar camaraderie she’d missed so much.

Because in the world of wrestling, bonds weren’t just forged in the ring. They were tested and strengthened in the moments in between—in the fights, the misunderstandings, and the reconciliation that followed.

And no matter what, the Blackpool Combat Club always found their way back to each other.

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vee1021 · 5 months ago

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The Sekai Association,

a Project Sekai x Project Moon au

Info on the Association and Miku under the cut

The Sekai Association

Run by Hatsune Miku, a Color fixer, the Association deals in all around work, from policing backstreets to stopping Distortions.

The Associations five Directors are all close friends of Miku, but are also respected Fixers in there own right.

Director of the North Section, KAITO

Director of the South Section, MEIKO

Directors of the West Section, Kagemine Rin and Kagemine Len

Director of the East Section, Megurine Luka

They have five main subsidiary Offices under them, being the Shooting Star Office, Leaping Office, Vivid Office, Showtime Office, and Midnight Office

Head of Sekai Association, The Turquoise Melody, Hatsune Miku

Mikus body is completely mechanical, and she owns multiple bodies for each situation, such as policing and long range battles, as well as the other other 5 directors

Her main body, named Original, is designed to be both thin and sturdy, though it is really meant for daily tasks,this body is not as fit for as the others. She wields a sword and microphone, both able to release debilitating sounds to deafen and confused opponents, though only used when needed.

Her long ranged combat body, named Empty, is designed to be able to move fast and withstand hard shocks, as this body's main weapon is a high-caliber sniper rifle that produces a deafening bang, at the detriment of an immense kickback when fired.

The body meant for policing areas, named Street, is designed to be able to take a beating and damage, and is thus much taller and broader than the other bodies. This body wields a riot shield and spear, and the shield is able to emit a loud screech to disable and immobilize opponents, basically creating a wall of sound.

The body meant for large groups, called Stage, was created for crowd control, and is built tall and broad, but not as much as Street, she wields a large poleaxe, meant sweeping opponents out of the way and to create loud crashes when hitting stone and concrete.

The Wonderland body, created to deal with escaped Abnormalities and rampaging Distortions, is built incredibly dense and strong, but also incredibly thin and lithe, meant to be able to take them on single handedly. This body wields a large battle ax, meant to carve chunks of flesh and break bones when attacking

The final body, the Starlight body, was created to deal with small groups, was built neither lithe or broad, but average sized, meant to be able to fight and adapt in situations, Miku fights with the same sword and microphone of the Original body.

(I am not going to call the last one the School body, because it doesn't make as much sense as the others and it sounds weird.)

(I need a better name for MMJs Office please)

#god this took so long #more in the future #i liked writing it but it was a pain #next will be the directors #they wont have as much as the naming scheme is the same and the reasons are the same #please ask questions about it in my asks it'll help me organize my thoughts with other people's ideas and questions #limbus company #project moon #pjsk #project sekai colorful stage #proseka #hatsune miku #Sekai Association #library of ruina #lobotomy corporation

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anim-ttrpgs · 10 months ago

Note

"All our projects" so there's other ANIM projects in production? anything you're able to talk about?

Yes, we plan to have a long-running career in the TTRPG space, and have several backburnered!

I’m just gonna rapid-fire these off the top of my head. We don’t know exactly which one of these is coming after Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is fully released, because it is actually our patreon subscribers that vote on that.

Mastadon(title pending)

Yes, this is intentionally misspelled though we might change that in the future in case it hinders search results and stuff. This is a world where dark fantasy and 90s retro-futurism collide, literally. Think of knights with machine guns, space marines with enchanted swords, high-calibre rounds leaving dents in mythril breastplates, and men-at-arms on cybernetic horses. In the distant future of 2016, a scientific experiment on a lunar research station opened a portal to another world. At the same time, in a dimension of sorcery and feudalism, a council of wizards opened a portal to another world, and explorers from each land found themselves in the same mysterious place.

Cultures and technologies have clashed and mixed in these mysterious lands since. The PCs are mercenaries, taking odd, usually violent, jobs to get by.

Gameplay-wise it’s largely a combat-focused dungeon crawler emulating retro-FPS combat in TTRPG form, with an emphasis on making every type of gun feel totally unique by tying them to entirely different dice mechanics, which in turn makes warriors using these guns strategize entirely differently.

Bone Grinder

Bone Grinder is a “dumber” game, but still with an emphasis on combat. It has a notably more punk and metal aesthetic. Imagine a rocker with a mohawk and leather jacket killing a demon with an axe guitar that is also actually an axe. One of the core mechanics is that players will “bone” the game master by “throwing the bones” at them, which means literally trying to hit them with dice. A successful hit will add a bonus to whatever dice roll comes up when the thrown die lands. When it is the monsters’ turns, the game master will throw that same die right back at them. So if you throw a D6, that’s a D6 attack coming back at your PC next turn. If you throw a D20, that’s a D20 attack coming back at your character next right, so you better make it count, better kill ‘em in one shot!

(We recommend using plastic dice for this one, no metal dice!)

Death Bed

This is another working title, and it is a very serious attempt to emulate Dark Souls and Dark Souls style combat in a turn-based TTRPG in response to the abysmal Dark Souls: The Role-Playing Game that was just a lazy D&D5e book.

This game will be a bit more OSR-y, with D20 roll-under mechanics like old-school D&D for skill checks, and very simple attack determinants. It will have an emphasis on predicting enemy movement, stamina management, and choice between blocking or dodging attacks. It will also feature a system whereby the PCs are not permanently dead after being killed, but do “hollow” after each death. There are several stages of hollowing, each with downsides and upsides. Fully alive PCs will be more nimble, alert, and powerful, but stand out more to mindless hollow enemies, drawing more aggro. More hollowed PCs will have stat debuffs, but hollows are less likely to attack other hollows, giving them less aggro priority. Of course, if a PC dies too many times without restoring their life force, they will become a mindless hollow themselves, becoming an enemy that the party must slay if they want to recover that PC’s equipment.

Untitled Mushroom Game

A working title of course. This game takes a lot of inspiration from the earlier Paper Mario games, and like Bone Grinder, it will have actual physical things you can do with the dice to gain bonuses to your characters’ attacks, which is meant to emulate the “action commands” from Paper Mario in TTRPG format. One example would be building a larger dice pool for an attack based on how many D6s you can stack into a tower before they fall down, with the tower falling down constituting the rolling of the dice.

Eureka Adventure Modules Vol. 2

(Vol. 1 is the set of adventure modules that are coming with the Kickstarter.) Eureka fully releasing won’t mean we’re done with it. We plan to support all of our games for as long a time as possible with new adventure modules and other supplements. (But expect the other supplements to be very cheap if not outright free. We don’t want to make Eureka a game where you have to buy 15 $50 books just to have the full experience.) This will be a set of 5, 10, maybe more pre-written adventure modules for use with Eureka. For a few teasers, one of our ideas features the PCs getting stranded in the Mojave desert, one of them features the PCs getting trapped in underground drainage tunnels with a mysterious creature stalking them, and more horrifying mysteries.

The Eureka Mobster Manual

Another working title, but it’s pretty catchy. This will act as a “monster manual” for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, featuring prémisse stats and GMing advice mundane NPCs like cops, mafia enforcers, hapless bystanders, etc. and also actual monsters, both human and inhuman. One of the monsters I am most excited about introducing is actual demons. Not just some red guy with horns, in fact they’re likely to be completely invisible. I know this term gets thrown around a lot by people who don’t know what it means, but in Eureka demons will be more “biblically accurate.” Think more The Exorcist and less DOOM. A demon doesn’t want to go “blahrarawa!” and kill you, a demon wants to gradually talk you into killing yourself. This also may feature additional playable monsters, such as the gorgon and dullahan(Kickstarter stretch goals for the main rulebook that I don’t think we’re going to meet unfortunately), plus others if we can come up with more.

Overdose

A working title again. This will be a large collection of “drag-and-drop” tactical combat encounters for Eureka, for when a GM needs a fleshed out and challenging final showdown between the PCs and the bad guy goons. These will feature plenty of cover, alternate routes, and “woo roll elements”(stuff that can get knocked over, exploded, destroyed, etc. by stray bullets, thereby changing the environment in exciting and unexpected ways.). All of this is so that the GM doesn’t have to come up with all the complexities of a good Eureka combat encounter on the fly.

That’s about all I can think of right now. After Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is fully released and the dust is settled, we will hold a vote with out patreon subscribers to find out what the fans most want us to work on next.

However, all of these things that I have mentioned are in a very raw state of completion, or even just in the idea stage. If you want to see all these projects, and more, release in the coming years, then RPG-making needs to be a long-term viable career for us. I, personally, am disabled and have a very hard time finding regular, sustainable work at “real jobs,” so this is especially important for my financial future. It’s about the only (marketable) skill I’m good at, and it’s something I enjoy doing, so I’m making this push now for my future.

The best way you can make this a viable long-term career for us is to support the Eureka Kickstarter (only 24-hours left at the time of posting this), buy our games, and subscribe to our Patreon.

The more successful the Kickstarter is, not only does more art and stuff get added to the Eureka rulebook and adventure modules, but the more buzz it generates, and the more buzz it generates the more journalistic support and more financial support we get. Even if it’s just for charity purposes to help me pay future bills when I can’t hold a normal job, pledging $10 is enough to get your name in the Eureka rulebook, and if you can’t give anything, we totally understand—we’d rather you put food on your table than go broke supporting our dreams. If you can share the Kickstarter to discord servers and the like in the last 24 hours of its crowdfunding window, or just share news of the game with people after the Kickstarter closes, that is a huge huge help on its own.

We, and especially I, am thankful beyond my ability to express in words for how much support the Kickstarter has already gotten, and the patreon subscribers whose support paid for all of our advertising budget to get Eureka as well-known as it is. This is a project of extremely professional scope and calibre, and I’m proud to say that we probably shouldn’t have been able to pull it off with as small a team as we are, we’re just that talented and persistent, but no matter how talented or persistent we are, it is the fans and supporters that make it possible for us to pursue a creative career. Thank you all.

24 hours left on the Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Kickstarter, crowdfunding closes at 2:00 PM CST on Friday, May 10th! That’s mid-day tomorrow! Please support it while you still can! If you’re reading this after the Kickstarter has closed, you can support us through ko-fi or patreon, and if you’re a $5 subscriber or more to our patreon, you will get regular PDFs of increasingly finished beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy and its adventure modules as we continue to work on finishing it using the Kickstarter money.

You can also help us by checking out our merchandise!

If you just want to play, you don’t have to pay. You can get a beta PDF of the Eureka rulebook plus character sheets and adventure modules FOR FREE from our website or itch.io page.

Join our TTRPG Book Club We nominate, vote on, and split into groups (based on schedule compatibility) differnt indie games, then discuss, just like a book club! Plus it’s just a great place to discuss and play new TTRPGs you might not be able to otherwise!

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

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applesaucesims · 1 year ago

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The sun had started setting behind the clouds, as Emma and Niall finally made their way up the frosty path leading to the Brindleton Ballet School. It was a pompous building by the sea, standing near the edge of a cliff, and despite its name, it was also home to one of the biggest theatres in the country.

To combat the cold, Emma had thrown on a new fur shawl over her golden evening gown, but she still much preferred leaning on Niall's body heat to warm up. Once inside, she would rid herself of the fur along with her hat, keeping them safe at the wardrobe, while her and her husband would enjoy the show.

The ballet was a new rendition of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and Emma and Niall loved every second of it. It was as if the dancers were floating across the stage, making the entire scene come to life, even watching from loge seats high above the stage.

Of course, Emma particularly enjoyed the set design. The carefully painted backgrounds and props seemed to work in perfect harmony with the movement of the dancers, which made the whole show appear all the more magical.

Huge shoutout to @thegrimalldis and @theroyalthornoliachronicles for the ballet dancers!

#ts4 decades challenge #ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 legacy #1930s #emma jones #niall mcgregor

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informaltorching · 26 days ago

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💝,💙, 👖, and 🧁 for my bday twin… interested to know how he feels about birthdays and how he likes to spend them ^^

💝 - How much effort do they put into appearances? Do they have a favorite article of clothing?

Vesper cares more about his appearance more than he would outwardly admit. He doesn't necessarily care if people find him attractive, but he actually gets some enjoyment out of his clothing. (His appearance is something he actually has some sort of control over...) So, it actually to a degree pisses him off when his gorgeous Lasombra girlfriend becomes the hash-slinging-slasher to his shirts. (Especially because this fucker loses nice clothes to things like feral weapons, swords, bullet holes, and copious amounts of blood way too often.)

And he has this all in mind when making said effort. Vesper got embraced while his hair was in an annoying stage of growth and never knows what to do with it. He also missed a minuscule spot when shaving that day and part of his waking routine is shaving a bit because it drives him fucking crazy.

His staples include combat boots, black tank tops, and some form of fitted tactical pants. Then his favorite thing has to be jackets. Not necessarily just moto leather jackets, he likes aged wax jackets, and on the occasion some field jackets and bombers. Though, his favorite one is a larger, aged leather jacket with some, not too many, cone spikes on the shoulders.

💙 - Describe their bedroom! Is it personalized, unchanged? Messy, neat?

Vesper lives with Amare. He could have his own place if he really gave a shit, but why bother when you're mutually blood bonded to someone and will definitely not see the repercussions of that. Nope. Nothing bad ever happens.

So, the bedroom is mostly to her tastes ( I don't wanna write too much about what her tastes are, but @swoomoo can fill you in if you are curious) with touches of him, ever so slightly. As Vesper is both the most neat and meticulous person you ever met and the messiest at the same time. He is a workaholic. When he was alive, if he had even a moment of downtime, he obsessively cleaned and organized. But you can tell when he is busy. He isn't like a slob...more so just scattered, clear indicators of someone whose brain is in constant overdrive. Hastily written notes, piles of books and materials... and he is never the one who makes the bed.

👖 - Coffee shop or high school AU, your choice: tell me their role.

I mean, probably coffee shop as I prefer to write him as a grown adult lol. However, easily in high school AU he is the jock stoner guy that has a tendency to keep to himself.

I don't know shit about coffee shop AUs. I always find that stuff a bit boring. I think Vesper's role would be man who clearly wants to be left alone and sits in the corner on his laptop to work in silence with earbuds in. He orders green tea, not coffee.

🧁 - When is their birthday? How do they celebrate it, if at all?

November 21st, 1990!

He hates celebrating his birthday. He never tells anyone when it is. Most of his birthdays growing up were lonely and pathetic. His father constantly forgot it, but he didn't feel the need to remind him when it was. He kind of gave up on his birthday long before he was embraced. But he doesn't like attention drawn onto him and doesn't really want to think about being an emotionally abandoned teenager.

#thank youuu <333

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summeringminor · 5 months ago

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𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙

rhaenicent | E

Alicent takes Helaena to a goth-metal concert. The androgynous singer more than catches Alicent's eye.

read on AO3

or under the cut:

“Are you sure they are not satanists?”

"Mom, please." Helaena looks at her with her smudgy black eyeshadow and white painted face.

When have her children started being embarrassed of her? Alicent clutches her purse to her chest as the queue moves forward. The night air is still pleasant enough, the early September days carry the last remnants of summer. The hall is only about a hundred metres away and they are right behind the VIP-ticket crowd. Helaena had demanded they be at the hall by 9am and it being a Saturday, Alicent had succumbed to the incessant pleas of her only daughter. She had packed them sandwiches, water, thermos bottle tea, and a tupperware full of snacks. Helaena had barely touched the food, which had made Alicent all the more nervous. But her daughter would not be swayed. Between that and the crowd—all teenagers and some girls in their 20s, wearing torn black clothes, spike collars, platform- and combat boots, staring Alicent down from black and red painted eyes—it all had spawned more doubt in her to really let her fourteen year old daughter into this concert. She’s never seen this many strange people, teenagers or no, in their little town. It seems impossible that a band such as SYRAX would garner so many people. From what Helaena has shown her (and her daughter only deemed it pleasant the once) an androgynous blonde man leads the band screeching into the microphone like a banshee, face painted white like Helaena’s is now, and the rest of the band shreds guitars and bass guitar in an infernal clash of rhythm and noise the likes of which Alicent has never heard before. No such concert could have ever taken place when Alicent had gone to school, the same catholic private school that her four children now attend as well, with its praying each morning before class and monthly Wednesday church service. Or perhaps Alicent had simply not known. As she had not many things. She sighs and draws her jacket closer around herself.

Helaena smoothes her shirt, her favourite of a Goliath beetle print, and puts on her headphones, lips forming around words she is reading off her phone screen. Lyrics of SYRAX it seems. Alicent recognises the chorus, has seen it scribbled all over Helaena’s homework. The crudeness of the words had left Alicent breathless the first time she read them, and the talk she’d had with Helaena had ended in her daughter slamming the door in her face and not speaking to Alicent until Aemond had brokered peace between them two days later.

God, is she losing Helaena too? Is it not bad enough that Aegon gets home drunk and smelling of cigarettes and marihuana despite curfew, despite Alicent going through his cupboards once a week and throwing away the plastic bags of crushed green and vodka bottles? She is yet more lax than her own father had been, but Aegon only curses or cries and then does it all over again a week later. Now, Helaena has fixed her unwavering attention on this horrid band and Alicent will be damned if she lets Helaena walk into this gutter of queer looking teenagers on her own. What if they hurt her? Give her drugs? Pull her into some kind of sataníc cult—

The doors open.

Pushing, shoving, high-pitched voices cry out. Alicent grabs Helaena’s shoulder, the next second the people behind them drive them forward.

A few steps further four unimpressed security guards check tickets and let in the enthusiastic crowd.

“Come on, mom!” Helaena hisses, brows drawn together as she rushes into the hall. The VIP-ticket mob already presses against the stage. No metal barricade. Security only on the sides. Breath stutters in Alicent’s lungs. What if they have to leave? What if they fall and get trampled?

Helaena unwinds herself from her grip, angling away.

She’s embarrassed of me, Alicent thinks. Oh god. Indeed she could not be farther from the audience in her green Chanel jacket, pressed skirt and sensible heels. People fill in behind them and Alicent realises how big of a crowd it has actually become in the hours they’ve been waiting since this morning.

Perhaps three rows are between them and the stage and this at least makes Helaena bounce on her feet and smile. An ache pinches Alicent’s heart and she cannot but smile as well. This is all she wants. Just to see Helaena happy—

The lights cut out.

Murmurs rush through the hall in its sudden darkness.

People move over the stage and the crowd cheers, but it is only two girls in torn band shirts testing the instruments. The guitars blast through the hall, and Alicent hurries to slip in her earplugs, handing the second pair to Helaena who throws them on the floor instead. Alicent bites her lip.

The girls disappear. White smoke gushes from all around and veils the stage like some old cemetery in a horror movie. A strange noise cuts through the darkness. A shiver runs down Alicent’s spine. Guitars and bass pick up. Drums follow in ritualistic repetition. The strange sound swells, heightens. With a shock Alicent realises it’s a voice.

Light strobes from the ceiling, red lasers cut through the gloom and against the smoke five silhouettes move in the fog.

A second of silence.

Then guitars and drums crash into noise and on it rides a growl so inhuman Alicent takes a step back just to be pushed forward again by whoever’s behind her.

The growl turns into a scream, shattering the dark. The singer steps forward, black torn latex coat, leather belts and strips of fabric hanging off it, and red splattered over it in acrylic brightness. The singer’s face is painted white too, thick vinyl black eyeliner, black lipstick smeared into red on the right corner of the shapely mouth, strong jaw, slicked back blond hair that curls in the singer’s neck. He steps forward, rips off the coat and Alicent realises that he is a—

–she.

Alicent stares up at the woman’s bound chest, more a leather belt than a top and latex trousers with strips fluttering from it just like the coat. All this time Alicent had thought… Her head whips to Helaena who is squished tight against the girl in front of her, arm raised and shouting along as the woman, Rhaenyra, Alicent remembers, sings before she screams again. The crowd surges around her like a creature of its own, voices rise to meet the singer’s howl like the sea rises to the sky in a storm. Alicent cannot stop staring as Rhaenyra walks across the stage, not at all human with her starkly painted face, the dark of her lipstick and eyeliner etched into her skin, gleam of spit on her straight white teeth, how her muscles move under the strobe light like some fresh blood-hungry creature in the old forests Alicent visited as a child. Heat claws at Alicent, sweat pours where the jacket restricts her movements, she takes it off and folds it into her bag as though in a trance, watches the singer’s throat move, the shine of the latex where it hugs her tight strong body.

Rhaenyra prowls closer until she stands right before them on the stage. Helaena’s voice screeches within a thousand others.

And Rhaenyra’s eyes find Alicent’s.

Sound drones into far-away silence. Heat strokes over Alicent’s throat, her chest, between her thighs as Rhaenyra smiles, wicked like a man and yet so different: free. Rhaenyra raises her hand, fingers splitting into a peace sign before she leans and licks into the V-shape of her index and middle-finger.

Shame pumps blood into Alicent’s face, embarrassment searing through her. It must be embarrassment. The crowd shoves forward in a wave, arms reaching out towards Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra laughs, crouches down—and reaches back. She slides her fingers across the hands of those close enough, almost touches Helaena’s as the audience rushes forward again, pressing the air from Alicent’s lungs as she is caught between the girls in front and behind her. Panic pricks her for a moment, looking for Helaena, but Helaena stares up at the stage in joyous abandon, fingertips touching the dark just before Rhaenyra.

The song ends. Rhaenyra stands and moves to the left side of the stage, the crowd relaxing just enough for Alicent to catch her breath.

It all happens in a haze, the music thunders around them, the people move and Alicent gives in to their sway and press and cannot but stare at Rhaenyra as she screams and howls and sings in her androgynous voice, brutal, haunting, sensual, the way she moves and bares her throat and finds Alicent’s gaze again and again until Alicent believes she must be imagining it. Her stockings rip when she is forced forward, her heels ground into the uneven concrete floor, hair all tousled, and on the stage, Rhaenyra sweats and gleams until she is more monster than man or woman, just muscles cording over bones, her shoulders broad, her hair slick and wet and loose by the end of it as applause shatters the quickly approaching night.

An encore follows, three songs that pass in a heartbeat. Breath evades Alicent, her lungs cord up, her palms sweat like the rest of her, she’s drenched the skirt and shirt and she feels with two fingers where her stockings have ripped by her inner thigh.

It’s over. The band leaves the stage. The roaring applause drowns out all else. Helaena elated beside her.

Rhaenyra leaves first. She does not turn around. Of course not.

The next minutes pass like in a fog. People clear out slowly, queuing at the merchandise stands in other parts of the venue, everyone sweaty with messed up makeup and hair, chattering with hoarse happy voices.

Helaena rushes to queue as well to spend her allowance on some gorey band shirt, saying she’ll catch her outside in a bit. Alicent only nods, cannot muster the energy to dispute Helaena and on unsteady legs makes her way outside. She slips her jacket back on, cards a hand through her thick hair, it’s all wet with sweat at her neck and temples, she must look horrendous. She rounds a corner and her fingers tremble where she holds on to her bag. It’s only now she realises how much her shoulder aches from the weight of it and having clutched it against her throughout the concert.

Teenagers loiter outside, smoking, drinking.

The sudden need to have a cigarette overwhelms Alicent. She’s not had one in years. The last one must have been in the hospital after the accident, the night Aemond had had the surgery on his eye. She shakes her head, cannot think of it without feeling tears well up in her eyes. She rounds a corner, leans against the wall. The voices are quieter here, shrouded from the remaining crowd. Somewhere a heavy door falls shut. She bites at her cuticles, checks her phone to see if Helaena has texted her. She hasn’t.

“Cigarette?”

Alicent looks up. And freezes.

Rhaenyra leans against the wall beside her, towel around her shoulders, hair tousled and wet, makeup wiped from her face but remnants of white foundation and black eyeliner still smear on her skin. She’s wearing a shirt and a man's jacket, cargo trousers, heavy platform boots. She smells of woody, masculine shower gel. Her lips close around a cigarette and she flips open a zippo lighter, eyes on Alicent as she does, and kindles the cigarette. The flame reflects in her pale blue eyes.

Alicent stutters a reply, unable to recall what she says just a second later. Rhaenyra laughs, lips stretching enough to show a gummy smile, soft and handsome all at once and Alicent takes the cigarette before she can think better of it.

“Not your usual venue, huh?”

“No,” Alicent says and takes a drag. Smoke and nicotine rush into her and she exhales the smoke slowly. “Oh god, that’s good,” she says.

Rhaenyra smiles again. “Tried to kick the habit?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too. But I don’t last more than a week.”

They both laugh and warmth spreads through Alicent despite the now cooler night air. Rhaenyra lights a second cigarette, inhales, exhales smoke through her nose and mouth, and something shudders in Alicent at the sight of it.

“You, umn…you were…magnetic up there.” Alicent feels her cheeks heat up. God, she must sound idiotic.

“You liked the show.” It’s not so much a question but a statement and the boldness of it makes Alicent take another deep drag of the cigarette.

“I thought you were a man,” she says without thinking.

Rhaenyra brightens, a slight blush fills her cheeks.

“Oh yeah?”

“I meant no–”

“Who says I’m not?” Rhaenyra grins, leans closer.

“W-what?” Alicent swallows at the sudden proximity, inhales Rhaenyra’s wood-fresh scent, somehow more drawn to it than to whenever she’s smelled it on a man a million times before.

“Don’t really feel like a woman, you know?”

Alicent does not know. She can barely think with how Rhaenyra looks her in the eyes, a mischievous grin on her lips. She should get back, check on Helaena—

Rhaenyra steals the cigarette from Alicent’s lips, takes a drag and holds it in front of Alicent’s mouth, gaze burning into Alicent. Alicent can’t look away. She closes her lips around the cigarette in Rhaenyra’s fingers.

“Good,” Rhaenyra’s voice is low, and it feels like a fever-dream, how close she is, the warmth that radiates from her in the September air. Rhaenyra’s gaze sinks down Alicent’s throat, her chest, her skirt, stills where her stockings have ripped at her inner thigh. Without meaning to, Alicent spreads her legs a little wider, and watches how breath catches in Rhaenyra’s throat. The next moment, Rhaenyra steps in front of her, one hand on the wall behind Alicent, the other barely grazes against the hem of her jacket. Fingertips slowly drag over Alicent’s side, her hip bone, and as though hypnotised she watches Rhaenyra’s square elegant hand stroke down her skirt and then move inward until her fingertips slide beneath where the stockings have torn open. Her touch is hot on hotter skin. A gasp catches in Alicent’s throat.

Rhaenyra steps closer. Her breath fans over Alicent’s face. Her hand slowly grabs Alicent’s thigh.

A curse escapes Alicent.

Rhaenyra’s bright blue gaze, inescapable, a pull like the tide that drags young fishermen’s wives out to sea. Rhaenyra’s fingers spread under the stocking. It tears more. Alicent can’t think. Head tilted against the wall, feels her brows creasing, her heart hammering in her skull.

“You’re so hot,” Rhaenyra whispers. Rhaenyra’s hand glides upwards, confident, and rubs between Alicent’s thighs. A gasp escapes her. Rhaenyra rubs harder, and it feels so good that for a moment Alicent forgets all around her. It’s never felt this good before—- Heat surges through her. She can barely look at Rhaenyra, can’t believe she has her hand on her cunt in a back alley at night, a stranger— Rhaenyra’s thumb presses down on her clit, Rhaenyra’s breath on her mouth. God, she wants her.

“Kiss me,” Alicent says without meaning to.

A blush turns Rhaenyra’s cheeks pink. Alicent can’t believe it. Her fingers fist in Rhaenyra’s shirt and she yanks her in. Rhaenyra’s hot tongue presses into her mouth. Like a fever, she wishes she could feel Rhaenyra’s tongue in other places, too, gasps and whimpers into their kiss at the thought of it on her clit, inside her. A strong hand grabs the back of her knee, pulls her leg up until it rests around Rhaenyra’s hip.

Pain spikes through her lip when Rhaenyra bites it, her hot mouth dragging along her cheek to her neck and she sucks and bites at her skin there, too, will leave a mark like they are goddamn teenagers and where before it had made Alicent uncomfortable when men had pressed their teeth into her like this, she now feels a strange forbidden thrill.

A moan against her neck. Rhaenyra pushes herself closer, her fingers alternating between rubbing Alicent’s clit and lower, and with a shiver of shame, Alicent realises how fucking wet she’s gotten. As if reading her thoughts, Rhaenyra retrieves her hand, puts index- and middle finger to her lips where they leave a liquid sheen, and she sucks the wetness from them. The sight is almost too much. The blush on Rhaenyra’s cheeks deepens, her hand falls to Alicent’s hip.

“Can I finger you?” Rhaenyra’s voice is low and rough and shy all at once.

Words stick in Alicent’s throat. She just glares, lets out an embarrassing sound and nods, once, twice, and Rhaenyra’s kissing her again as her hand is slipping into her skirt. With shaking fingers, Alicent unbuttons it to allow Rhaenyra more movement. The next second, Rhaenyra’s fingertips are on her sweaty skin, down her stomach and all at once on her clit.

“Oh god,” Alicent gasps.

“Yeah,” Rhaenyra moans, moans from touching Alicent.

Thoughts meld, heat and want takes all. Rhaenyra’s palm presses against her clit. A finger slides against her wetness and slowly pushes inside her. Her other hand comes to cup Alicent’s breast, gently, almost reverently before she squeezes, thumb pressing against Alicent’s nipple. Tears prick at Alicent’s lashes. It feels too good. She should not be doing this. The finger inside her moves slowly.

“You can—” Alicent babbles, “You can put in more—”

“Fuck,” Rhaenyra growls, pushes her middle finger in as well and hotly, blissfully, her ring finger.

Alicent gasps, feels herself stretched around Rhaenyra’s fingers, Rhaenyra’s palm hard against her clit. She’s so full. Sweat beads on her forehead, under her arms, the back of her knee. She grinds herself against Rhaenyra’s fingers, the angle making them feel even bigger inside her.

“You’re so good,” Rhaenyra whispers into her ear, her voice roughened, almost desperate. Lips drag over her jaw to her mouth. “I want to fuck you so badly.” Rhaenyra is kissing her again, starting to thrust her fingers into her, pressing the heel of her palm into Alicent’s clit in a way that makes Alicent see red heat pulsate behind her eyelids. She moans into their kiss, hands grabbing Rhaenyra’s shirt, clutching her as close as she can, cannot think—

“I want to make you come,” Rhaenyra says and curls her fingers inside her.

Alicent bites her own lip until she can taste blood.

“More on my—on my clit,” Alicent gasps and Rhaenyra follows.

“Like that?”

“Yes,” Alicent moans, grabbing Rhaenyra’s hand to position it how she needs it, and she tilts her head back, sliver of black night sky above then pulsating dark as her eyes squeeze shut. Her mouth opens and suddenly a hand presses over it. Rhaenyra grins at her, ravenous, pupils blown, and it is both the look and the hand keeping her silent that drives Alicent to the brink. Rhaenyra’s fingers slip out of her and shove in roughly again, her thumb pressing to the side of her clit, rubbing circles into it. It builds inside Alicent, builds and builds and she is quaking around Rhaenyra’s fingers, moaning against Rhaenyra’s palm and she is coming. Tears blur her gaze.

She falls forward against Rhaenyra’s shoulder, breathing heavily.

For a moment neither of them moves.

Slowly, Rhaenyra slips her fingers out of Alicent. A soft kiss against Alicent’s cheek. Another.

“So good,” Rhaenyra says, breathless.

Hot wetness leaks from between Alicent’s thighs. She’s rarely been this wet. Rhaenyra’s made her—

Her chest heaves.

The back alley and the night reshape around them.

“Oh god…” Alicent gasps in horror, looking around, but Rhaenyra kisses her again, a soft and sweet kiss and Alicent cannot but kiss her back. Desperation mixes between them. The need to touch Rhaenyra crashes over her like a wave, but Rhaenyra catches her wrist when she moves her hand to Rhaenyra’s hip.

A grin stretches Rhaenyra’s lips. What might be rue glints in her eyes.

“Don’t have time,” she says. “Gotta get back.”

Cold cords up Alicent’s throat.

“Oh…”

Rhaenyra laughs shily, kisses her again. “But,” she intones, “I’d like to give you my number.”

Rhaenyra sucks her wet fingers into her mouth, eyes on Alicent. Alicent swallows hard, watches Rhaenyra suck her slickness from her fingers, imagines Rhaenyra’s mouth on her there—

Rhaenyra cocks an eyebrow.

“Well?”

“Y-yes.” With shaking fingers, Alicent fishes her phone out, unlocks it and hands it to Rhaenyra. Her heartbeat still pounds against her ribs. Rhaenyra types in her number, her first name, adds the dragon emoji next to it.

“Will you call me?” Rhaenyra hands the phone back, fingers sliding over Alicent’s when Alicent takes it. A soft noise escapes Alicent instead of a reply and once more she can feel heat push into her cheeks.

Rhaenyra pushes her back against the wall, gaze sweltering, dark.

“Promise it.”

“I do.” Alicent tilts her chin up and Rhaenyra kisses her, tongue slipping into Alicent’s mouth, shooting little sparks through Alicent’s whole body, wanting Rhaenyra again, wanting her more—

Rhaenyra steps back.

“We’re on tour for a month more, but I’ll be back in town after.” Rhaenyra grins. “Let me take you to…dinner.”

Alicent swallows.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Rhaenyra’s grin widens. She cards a hand through her short wet hair, then darts forward and kisses Alicent again before turning on her heel, opening the heavy metal door with an ease that makes Alicent’s knees weak and—and she is gone.

Alicent stares at the door, at her phone with Rhaenyra’s contact. A pling echoes in the street and a message pops up. Helaena.

MOM!! Where are u?

Alicent’s heart almost jumps out of her chest, she rights her clothes, checks her make-up in her Chanel powder-compact mirror, she looks awful, but no more so than the girls she passed on her way out.

Good god. Helaena must never know. Though perhaps if she knew Rhaenyra was her friend, she might look at Alicent with less embarrassment.

Yes, Alicent thinks with a hammering heart, wouldn’t it be nice if Rhaenyra were her friend?

She hurries back, clutching her phone to her chest, smiling not unlike one of the teenagers at the concert.

#rhaenicent #alicent x rhaenyra #rhaenyra x alicent #hotd modern au #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #rhaenicent fic #hotd art

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