#I did reload after having a good long laugh about it

[impossible-rat-babies]

I’ve enjoyed the comedic ways you can die in bg3 it’s v fun

[the-californicationist]

Excerpt from Gunslinger - "Appaloosa"

OMG!! I commissioned this artwork from the incredible @captain-natey who RETURNED TO ME WITH THIS MASTERPIECE!!!! I just wanted to plug their work (their commissions are OPEN! visit their website here!!) and I wanted to post the chapter excerpt from "Gunslinger" (Price/Reader) that it belongs to. Hope you enjoy! Please go show Nate some love! Thanks for reading. TW: reference to past domestic abuse, Reader has call sign and speaks Spanish

Price sat beside you and pulled your chair closer to his, looping an arm around the back of it,

“Look, love, you don’t have to do anything you don’t -”

“Capitán! Quit whispering your sugary words into her ear. This is the woman who survived Miguel ‘El Matador’ Moreno for diez pinche años. She may look like a little lady, but she’s done nastier work than all four of you perritos combined. She is the reason why the infamous Jefe Luis Villagomez doesn’t travel north of the Rio Grande. Charon doesn’t ferry the living very often, amigos. She only takes the dead. Porfa,” Alejandro waved a hand in the air dismissively, unamused by Price’s coddling tones. 

Ale may have been embellishing a bit, but he wasn’t wrong. You didn’t need your hand to be held.

“I can’t leave the animals,” you said, checking to see how far these men had thought this plan through. 

“Laswell called Tony, and he’ll be here Wednesday,” Gaz told you. 

Tony had watched the ranch for you once before. He was a sharp-witted veteran that had run his own ranch for decades, so you felt good about leaving the farm to him. Tony could take care of himself. He did tend to spoil the goats, but there were worse things. 

“How long?” Your question hung in the air like a balloon losing its air, floating, surrounded by silence. 

Vargas and Price shared a look. Price repositioned himself in his chair, not thrilled about having to answer you,

“Not sure, love. Is that alright?” 

It was a test. What were you willing to sacrifice for this man and his makeshift band of brothers? Your peace? You’d fought so damn hard for that peace. You’d survived a devil of a man in order to sleep warm and safe and knowing you could take care of your damn business unaided. After giving up years of your life to unrest and fear, your reward had been the reconstruction of your independence. Price was asking you for your hard-fought freedom. You weren’t ready to give that up. You weren’t ready for sleeping on floors and reloading guns. You weren’t ready to face more devil-men. 

But what else could you do? Price had you, threatening your heart. If you woke up tomorrow to his empty bed, you didn’t know if you could take that pain. You imagined that Kahlo’s Wounded Deer felt much the same; shot through the chest with nowhere to run, stuck between the cliff’s edge and your lover - your hunter - both promising suffering in different ways. No escape. 

The captain studied you like a heeler dog studied its herd, watching for even the slightest movement to strike, to react. He witnessed the fear flash in your face, and in turn, you saw the despair shadow his. It was so slight, that change in his expression, but to you, it was like he was screaming. You, too, were screaming. 

“Okay, but just for this mission. Then, I need to get back to my life,” you decided, making your limitations known, quietly but firmly. 

The relief that washed through Price’s eyes was palpable. 

Vargas served dinner in his chaotic way, family style, sharing plates. Everyone was eating with their hands, cradling the homemade tortillas like little flowers, using them to scoop up meat and sauce that dripped down their palms like nectar, spicy and sweet. 

Ghost didn’t take his food into the other room this time, feeling secure enough to flip up the mouth of his painted mask to eat. It was like seeing him naked; he was always covered up, so any skin was somehow too much. Soap crowded Ghost from his corner of the table, trying to steal more asada, laughing and joking with Ale. Gaz and Price were huddled, murmuring about something, talking with full mouths in low tones. 

It was almost too serene. There were times in life where you understood that you were in a moment you could never return to. You may have similar ones in your future, but somehow, you knew when certain wrinkles in time were singular. As you watched your guests, you knew that this was definitely one of those moments. 

Price had his arm draped across your chair, keeping you near him. You crafted a bite for him in your hand, pinching the soft tortilla until it held the perfect amount of Ale’s asada. 

You nudged Price with your free hand,

“Toma, come esto, papi.” Here, have a bite, daddy.

He turned away from Gaz and found you there, his bite of food in your hands, and his face lit up like a flame. Bending his head down to meet your hand, he grabbed your wrist in his huge fist, trapping your arm. Then, slowly, he put his mouth around the morsel, lips touching the pads of your fingers, tongue licking the sauce from them. 

Vargas watched your interaction from the other side of the table, open-mouthed. Soap smacked him on the shoulder as if to cash in a bet.

“No, animales! Not at the table!”

The men shared a lighthearted groan and laughed good-naturedly, giving you and their captain a hard time about your little display of affection. 

You smirked, feeling accomplished. Price had wanted to tell them, so you thought a dropped hint or two would be alright. To your relief, he laughed with them, chewing his food before making a comment,

“Sabe buena.” Tastes good. His voice, still badly accented, was mirthful and suggestive, dragging out another round of playful jeering. 

Then, to your surprise, the captain pulled your chair back away from the table, leaning it on its rear legs, holding it at an angle, and kissed you deeply. You let out a little cry of shock, silenced by his mouth. But, you recovered, kissing him back, wrapping one hand around his jaw and the other running through his hair. 

It was all in good fun. Normal. Just a couple flirting with each other, but for Price, you could tell it meant more. It was one thing to bare your souls to each other in front of the farm animals, or to sneak off and rediscover original sins in the quiet of your room, but it was something else to show the world that you chose him. To show his men that you were committed to their captain. That you weren’t just a rest-stop on their long journey. You got the sense that by committing to him, you were also committing to them: his family. 

The rest of the meal passed in that same warmth, filled with laughter and jokes, stories and questions about each other. Intimacy. The whole time, Price couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Your thigh, your hand, the nape of your neck - he was grabbing you like a lifeline. He shared his food, making you try his chili relleno, giving you sips of his drink when yours ran dry, doting on you. 

“Okay, time for dessert, yes?” You asked the others, picking up dirty dishes as you retreated back to the kitchen. 

You heard exasperated groaning, their bellies full and struggling, but you didn’t hear a no. Vargas followed you into the kitchen, pretending to help,

“Dios mío, necesito un cigarrillo después de verlos a ustedes.” My God, I need a cigarette after watching you two. 

“Cállate, cerdito.” Shut up, piglet. You smiled to yourself, cutting up what was left of the cheesecake, giving Price’s plate the largest piece. 

“¿Estas enamorado, morena?” Are you in love, darling? His voice was a quiet whisper. It felt like a gunshot wound in your chest. 

“I don’t know,” you said, in English, not trusting yourself to tell such a lie in your native tongue. 

Your old friend covered his mouth with his hand, eyebrows heading skyward, giving you an obvious look. He replied in English, understanding the secret you’d been trying to conceal,

“You know better, Charon. We are not men who should be loved. I hope you know what you’re doing, mija. ”

You didn’t reply out loud, but on the inside, you heard yourself say, “Me, too.”

Even though they lived in the shadows, you weren’t sold on the idea that they should be priests for their causes. Men like Price typically followed two paths. The love of a woman, if she becomes his family, could break his heart, making him forget his purpose, distracting him from his quest for justice. Or, she would light a fire in him, turning him into a dragon. You were afraid to find out which path he would choose.

You wondered if he loved you. 

You delivered the cake and poured more tequila into all the little cups that were thirsty for it. 

John was rolling a cigar in his fingers absentmindedly, and you could tell he was aching to smoke it. 

“You wanna come outside with me, love?” Price invited you, rubbing your thighs in big, sweeping strokes, making your blood rush through them, somehow knowing what you wanted. 

Everyone else was chatting, or watching Gaz play that video game of his, backseat driving, telling him where to hide and who to shoot. Which gun to use. You slipped out onto the porch with Price, avoiding any more ribbing. 

You stood against the porch railing, facing the yard, staring out at the darkness of the night, the rain finally dying out to a drizzle, casting little blue galaxies in the flooded grass, reflecting the light from a huge moon. Price stood directly behind you, pressed against your body, wrapping one hand around the railing, closing you in. He held his cigar in the other hand, smoking it in circles, trying to make the ashes burn evenly. 

“You surprised me at dinner,” he commented, obviously looking for a response. 

You feigned ignorance,

“Oh, why?”

“Feeding me by hand like that. Can’t be doing that in public. Makes me go a bit hard, love.” His voice was right next to your ear, gravelly and delightfully threatening. 

You smiled sweetly, your words coated in pretend innocence, playing with him,

“What do you mean? I just wanted you to have a bite. One little bite can’t hurt, can it, John?” 

“It’s bloody mental, the way you make me feel,” he took a long drag from his cigar and let the smoke tumble out as he spoke, leaning over you, “I’d fuck you right here, pretty girl, given half a chance.”

He took a deep breath along the side of your neck, smelling your skin beneath your hair, and when he exhaled, a moan was wrapped quietly inside it.

You pressed your ass into his crotch, finding him nearly hard. Touching his hand gently, you took his cigar and stuck it in your mouth, the wet leaves tasting like him. You curled the smoke with your tongue, locking eyes with him over your shoulder, watching him suffer deliciously,

“I dunno about ‘mental’, John. But it seems like you have an oral fixation.

You punctuated your last two words, saying them with a soft, sultry undertone. His eyes narrowed as he smiled down at you in a sinister grin,

“Do I ever.”

He stole the stick back from you and smiled even wider, teeth gleaming, his incisors seeming like fangs in his wolfy smile. 

“Think they’re watching us?” You let your eyes turn over to the window, covered with a sheer curtain, fully aware that the view outside was more visible than your view into the house. Trick of the light. 

He shrugged,

“Not if they know what’s good for them.”

Price’s cock had fully hardened now, and he thrust it up into your body ever so slightly, rubbing himself through layers of clothes, rocking his hips once and then twice like a promise of things to come. It made you feel a deep, primal lust, understanding his need without his words, your bodies engaging in an ancient art that had remained untainted by eons of time. You returned his invitation, rolling your hips back onto him, your ass pressing soundly into his pinned shaft. 

“We should get some sleep. Early start tomorrow. It’s five hours to El Ojo,” Price groaned, whispering, rutting against you mindlessly, burying his face in your hair, staining your scent with his smoke. 

You turned around to face him; he didn’t stop his idle grinding, looking tranquilized by his heady tobacco. Hypnotizing you with his casual eroticism. 

“You don’t seem sleepy,” you commented, letting your hands roam over his chest and belly, tracing his nipples beneath his smooth shirt. He shuddered at your touch, sighing deeply. 

With his cigar perched carefully between his fingers, he grabbed your jawbone, and you could feel the wet end press into your cheek. You could sense the warmth of the ash on your skin. He began to kiss you, all of the smoke and musky scents of him blended together, and his strong, masculine cologne made your head spin. His kisses were controlling and long, moving your head where he wanted it to be, sucking your lips and tongue, keeping them from exploring on their own. He was the guide for your passion, showing you all the ways he would be able to please.

He broke away, but only far enough to keep your lips from touching, his breath hot as it warmed your mouth when he spoke,

“Early. Tomorrow. We have to get up early. We should sleep.”

“Okay,” you sighed, a little dramatically, easing past his grip, removing yourself from him, untangling his vines from your bones, “if you say so, John. Buenas noches.” 

You walked inside, swaying your hips a little more than you needed to, knowing he was looking, his blue eyes burning into your curves. Just before you went through the door, you glanced over at him. In the darkness of the porch, cast in shadow, the smoldering tip of his cigar glowed in his open mouth, the light from it gleaming off of his teeth and coloring his lips and beard a fiery orange. He was grinning, like a fox in a henhouse. When he saw you looking, he made a small show of readjusting himself, pawing at his swollen rod to release it from where it was trapped, and in the dimness, you could see its threatening outline. 

You shut the door behind you, hands shaking. The other men mostly ignored you, but you caught them glancing your way, trying to sneak looks. Soap was not as sneaky as the rest, staring blankly as if he had a secret he shouldn't have.

As you wished them good night, they returned the sentiment casually, but it was then that you noticed the window. Price was still at the railing - in full, clear view, smoking. Blood rushed to your cheeks, and you could feel the flush tingle against your skin with embarrassment. 

An hour or so later, you were already asleep when Price came upstairs. His heavy footsteps pulled you from your slumber. He was pacing in his room, packing perhaps. You went to the bathroom and pulled open the door. Upon hearing you, he opened his as well.

“Hey,” you whispered, squinting from sleep. 

“Hey,” he was breathing heavily, dressed in nothing but the jeans and boots he had worn that day. 

The captain watched as your eyes feasted upon his skin, gazing longingly at his thick waist where his pants were slung low on his hips, showing off just a bit of hair from below his belt line. One of his giant hands gripped the door frame, high on the plank, stretching his chest into a sweeping display of muscle. His armpit, arms, and torso were covered in the thick, dark hair you had let your hands roam across last night during your joining, and you knew how it would feel to touch. 

Price slid his hand down the frame, making a slow scraping noise, stepping fully into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a click, his icy eyes never leaving yours. 

He was enormous in the small space. His body was a powerhouse of visible strength. The meat of him hung heavy on his large bones, and he seemed, in the clean white tile of the bathroom, as if he was a specimen in some sort of display. Some museum exhibit, showing off, in sterile composition, the ideal form of Man. Built to fuck, to kill, to dominate the beasts of Eden from the lamb to the lion. Top of the food chain. 

Still a little shy from realizing you’d given his team quite the show earlier on the porch, you averted your gaze, turning toward the sink. Before you could run the water, he was behind you, quick, crowding your space exactly as he had on the porch.

He positioned himself behind you and, much more luridly this time, began to kiss and lick your neck, grinding himself into you as he did so, slipping a warm hand under your loose top, finding your soft flesh waiting for his touch. You could feel the roughness of his denim jeans through your cotton shorts, and the contrast between his soft, melting kiss and the hard, unforgiving feeling of him trying to fuck you through your clothes was too much to handle. Your body was trying to reconcile the two, splitting your thoughts, making you love-drunk on his ministrations. 

Price pulled off your shirt, raking it over your head, tossing it to the floor. He laced his hand through your hair and began to tug your head back, forcing you to look at yourself, bare to him, in the mirror. There was only the nightlight, more like a small Christmas bulb attached to a plug, so the room lacked any harsh contrast. Your bodies, your faces, the walls - everything began to swirl together, all colorized in the same, peachy glow. 

You felt his hands on your breasts, and you watched him touch you in the mirror. Seeing yourself being pulled and manipulated by such a large man was gratifying. His hands massaged into your softness, leaving warm trails on your skin, the tell-tale feeling of where he had touched and where he still had left to go. The captain saw himself in the mirror for the first time, then, looking up from leaving erotic kisses on your neck and shoulders. 

He sighed, locking eyes with you in the glass. That sigh trailed off into a groan, a ghost of the one he’d given you last night in the midst of his ecstasy. 

“Fucking hell, look at you,” he said in his lowest tone.

Suddenly, he was tugging at the button of his jeans and unzipping the fly, freeing himself and stroking his cock to attention using your plump ass. Through your flimsy shorts, you could feel the burning heat that radiated from him. Reaching behind you, his hardness fell into your palm and you watched the sensation crawl its way through his expression in the reflection. He gasped, resting his head against yours, whispering - yes, yes, yes - into your ear in a hiss through clenched teeth. 

John’s hand found your pantyline and pried it away from your skin with a confident finger, traveling down into your folds, searching for the swelling bundle nestled in the crest of your slit, rubbing it in long, loose ovals.

It wasn’t feverish; it was measured. His was the hand of a practiced man. As he worked, you joined him, rolling your wrist to rub his foreskin up and down in achingly long pulls, letting his wet head graze your skin as you teased him. The thick length was drooling with precome, and you could feel its stickiness on your palm. 

It didn’t take him long to find your particular rhythm, the one you used when staring at Pinterest photos on your phone of Keanu Reeves in his John Wick era; sweaty, bloody, and great with a gun. Price’s movements felt personal, like he’d read about what you wanted in your diary somewhere, as if he was in on the secret. It brought you to the summit very quickly, and he noticed the flush in your cheeks and breasts, only then increasing his intensity. 

You tried to continue to stroke him, but as you began to come in Price’s hand, you could only hold onto his cock, grasping it like the handle in a car driving too fast, careening downhill, rushing to its inevitable crash. 

“Yeah, love, come for me. Just like that, you gorgeous fucking thing,” he watched you tumble over the edge, crumpling in the mirror, reaching for him. 

“John! Please,” you cried.

You felt the tension burst inside of you like a mortar, hot and molten, pouring out of your core and into your body in waves of climactic pleasure. No one had ever made you come that hard, that quickly. It was hard for you to stand. Price steadied you, using his talented hand to hold you to him while you remembered your legs. 

Once you regained your senses, you removed your hand from him to pull down your shorts and panties, letting them pool at the floor beneath your feet. You returned to his cock, now swollen and throbbing, and fed it into you. Your come made his entry smooth and slippery, and he filled you up, your body celebrating his return.

He returned to his slow, grinding dance on the porch, thrusting himself into you rhythmically in aching, rolling motions. It was not the slamming pugilism of two people trying to find release. This was a concerted effort for him to fuck your walls into his memory, rubbing his dick along them to sense every ridge and sweet spot, and to find the ones that made you scream. 

When you let slip a desperate moan, he would pause, reflect, and return, hitting it again and again, watching you writhe and begging for him to help you.

“You feel so good in me,” you admitted, talking to him in the looking-glass. 

His eyes were full of mismanaged control, and his grip on reality was slipping, 

“Bloody beautiful. So warm and wet for me. Goddamnit, I’m not gonna last.”

But, he did. Your beast had stamina. He returned to your clit as he thrust in and out of you, dragging his fat cock through your body, ripping two more orgasms from your lips before he surrendered. 

You watched him come, crying out darkly in his reflection. He had pulled himself from you and was painting your generous ass cheeks with his load. The tacky fluid was searingly hot, and it ran down your skin in drips. 

You smiled, bending back to kiss him,

“Messy boy,” you chided playfully, a naughty tone in your voice. 

“Wanna clean you up,” Price sighed, satisfied and spent.

Do you want 30 more chapters of these two? Read "Gunslinger" here.

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

[siddyyyyyyyy]

No, I didn't.

Pairing: Father figure!Price (x reader) (PLATONIC)

wc: 1.8 kwarnings: daddy issueswhat, military stuff but i dont have much knowledge, no y/n used, no angst, don't worry

Summary: Captain is similiar to being your father figure and you accidentally call him "dad"!!!!!!!!!!!

a/n: (this thing has been rotting in my notes app for a while) there's no romantic plot in this one, just some thoughts I've had about Price and him being the 'dad' figure or something, enjoy

Working with the TaskForce141 is definitely a lot of work and needs a lot of training, being able to cope and deal with high stress situations. It's all not a big deal for you, since you've been training for this a long time anyway and have probably seen it all by now. From a pile of dead bodies to difficult decision making in order to save people. All this doesn't exactly affect you, at least not as hard as the very first time you experienced these things. After years and years of experience it started to just be another day at work, which doesn't mean it got boring. It's definitely not boring, and if you were honest with yourself for once, it feels like the team you're in makes it easier to get along with missions and makes them less stressful.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick is about the same age as you, if not only a few months older. He's mostly calm and respectful but won't let anyone disrespect anyone else or himself, always making sure to get his opinion straight and be open-minded for anything. It's great to talk to him, him having a smooth voice and being one of the pretty faces you've seen around. Your other teammate, Johnny 'Soap' McTavish is a pretty interesting person himself. A loyal soldier and a strong one at that aswell, his arms looking like he could rip a tree in half if he wanted to. His scottish accent always comes out thicker whenever he's angry or got a beer too much. But besides that, he is also a pretty good person to talk to, especially when needing some advice for relationships and other topics.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley must be one of the most mysterious people you've seen around. You know pretty much nothing about him, besides him liking his earl grey tea and silly little army jokes. He holds a lot to himself and keeps quiet almost always and looks like he could tear you apart if you breath the wrong way. But he actually wouldn't, being his teammate is safer than to be his enemy. Besides his cold nature and brutal way of handling things, he actually tries to care for his team in his own way too. Checking up on you from time to time on a difficult mission, mostly just to make sure you don't fuck it up. You're not the type to have a favorite in a group, but if you needed to decide, it would probably be John Price. Your very own Captian. He's cold, if not the coldest person you know, always being fast in decision making and not letting anyone get in his way, no matter what. Price always makes sure to be there for his team too, cracking a few small 'dad jokes' then and there if the time is right.

Now, you're all waiting in the middle of a desert for a vehicle to pick you up after another successful mission. It was a mission that went on for several days but it was great, with minor difficulties. As your sitting on the sand, while making sure the sun doesn't give you a stroke, the others are talking about the mission. Well, just the few funny or minor mistakes they did while on mission. Soap is telling about how he accidentally let his magazine fall to the ground while reloading and almost slipped on a rock while doing so. But he got up and continued with the mission as usual, so it wasn't serious and just something to laugh about. After a few chuckles and jokes, Price spoke up and mentioned you, doing something similar.

»I saw you once throw a magazine out instead of a granade. Just giving out free ammunition like that.«

He teased you a little about it while mostly just Johnny and Kyle laughed about it with Price, lightheartedly teasing you about it some more. After another one of the Captains typical dad jokes, you finally speak up as you got enough of them.

»Okay, stop it dad.« You scoff lightly with a slight headshake, realizing only a few seconds later what you actually said. You're met with silence for a moment before Johnny cracks up and chuckles, not able to hold it back in.

»Did I hear you right, there? Did you just call him-«

»Enough. I didn't say anything.« You interrupt and stand up from your sitting spot on the sand, dusting your pants off. The truck arrives just in time, sparring you from any more embarrassing stuff happening to you for now. Price is genuinely suprised about you calling him that, not having thought anyone from his team could see him as something like a father figure. He doesn't mind that much anyway but also thinks he isn't that old. Eventually, he doesn't bring it up, not wanting to make you uncomfortable and he doesn't really think too much of it at the end of the day.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

　Something similar happens another time, two or three months after the first 'incident', how you call it. The moment since you accidentally called your Captain dad, you promised to focus way more on what you say as if you didn't already do that all the time.

Once in the mess hall to eat dinner, you couldn't help but feel more tired than usual. Probably because you didn't catch much sleep last night or maybe because you had a lot of paperwork that day, either way you felt rather tired but nothing too bad for you to handle. You're sitting at the right corner of the table while eating with the rest at one of the tables, eating peacefully while listening to the conversations around you. Sometimes listening to the small drama from a table across or just trying to see who else is eating dinner in the mess hall aswell. The food is nothing special, just the usual mashed potatoes, some sauce and meat to it. Salad is also there for everyone. Even though the food isn't bad, you can't help but want more salt in it, feeling like it hasn't got enough of it. Glancing up from your food, you see that Price is sitting closest to the salt shaker. Without much thinking you speak up, looking at him while asking.

»Dad, could you pass me the salt?« You ask casually and wait for him to hand you the salt shaker, not having realized yet what you really said for now. He shrugs and hands it over to you over the table, keeping a straight face as if nothing's wrong.

»Sure, kiddo.« It's a bit strange for him to call you 'kiddo' right now, but you don't question it and pour some salt into your food. Price continues to eat his own food, but you can't help but notice how silent it became around the table for some reason. Before you could look up again, Johnny chimes in.

»Didn't know you were his kid.« He nudges your shoulder softly and waits for your reaction, carefully watching how you react. You're a bit confused and look to him next to you, the gears in your head finally turning. Kyle can't help but smirk slightly at this whole thing as he tries to continue eating, turning his head away a bit.

»No- it's.... I didn't- what?« You stumble over your words while trying to explain this, eventually getting frustrated with yourself. Your back leans back against your chair while sighing out, being ready to gaslight them about this slip up. »It's alright. Happens.« Price reassures you even though he has a very faint smirk on his own lips about the situation, just not addressing it as much as Johnny.

»It's not the first time this happened, right?« Kyle's the one to tease you this time, looking over to you at the table all the while you're hiding your face a bit again.

»No, nothing never happened.« You shake your head and just continue eating your food more quickly, so you can escape this situation as fast as possible.

The conversations around the table return to its usual after a moment, no one addressing it anymore afterwards. Ghost was always just observing your reactions and the situation itself in both times it happened, having noticed a few things.

For example that it happened when you looked tired or when you were seemingly relaxed, speaking from your body language. Or how your ears become increasingly more red the moment you realise what happened, making it more amusing for him to watch your reaction. But of course he wouldn't mention any of those things, especially not to the whole group since it could come off a bit weird. He keeps it to himself but still can't help but tease you subtly about it during a round of joking in the team, mostly just addressing how easily something can embarrass you.

But to say he's the only who noticed that, is wrong. Price was probably the first person to notice those things about you, finding it also amusing in a way. He doesn't exactly mind you calling him 'dad' sometimes by accident but when it happens, he mostly thinks about why you do it. Probably having no proper father figure in your life or maybe he just reminds you of your own father. Maybe it's just the personality he gives off, making it seem like he's the fatherly one in the team. Either way, he finds it mostly wholesome, knowing he makes his team feel comfortable around him. But he keeps quiet about it, not wanting to embarass you even though he finds it oddly amusing to see how you act once something embarrassing or humbling happens to you.

But you on the other hand, you don't find it amusing at all. You're ready to launch at them the moment something remotely humbling happens in front of them, ready to gaslight them if it means they'll forget about one small thing. But you don't do it, considering they're your team mates and you're all almost equally strong. But even though they don't make seriously fun of you and tell you it's all jokes at the end of the day, you still can't help but feel even a little embarrassed about it. It's like having a small crisis to yourself, not sure what others think about you now or how you should act from now on around them. But that's just you being dramatic. Mostly.

[btstulip]

Jimin being bullied in AYS?

I never expected to be writing about this, but I feel it's important to talk about. Bullying and toxic behavior is serious and I keep seeing it come up when people talk about Are You Sure?! episode 3 in Jeju.

Frequently when reading about people's reactions to AYS, I find myself wondering if we've watched the same show. Even though I know our own life experiences influence how we see the world, it's always amazing to me how different that perception can sometimes be.

I am not here to tell anyone they are wrong about Jungkook and Tae and it makes no difference to me if you like them or not. I am only hoping to give people the chance to look again from a different perspective and maybe ask themselves what kind of lens they may be viewing this episode (and maybe life) through.

It’s not my perspective I want to show you… it’s Jimin’s.

This is going to be a bit long, but I hope that you will read to the end and feel free to discuss or share your own perspective in a respectful way.

▶︎ Jimin feeling sick

Before getting into what Jungkook and Tae did that has upset people, we have to discuss Jimin feeling unwell. I want to start by pointing out that Jimin is in a good mood and his stomach does not seem to be slowing him down. Obviously he isn't 100% and he mentions feeling like he will vomit if he eats, but we see him drinking without issue and otherwise seeming fine. He's having fun at the restaurant and even chases Tae.

Let me repeat that, Jimin chases Tae down the street, abandoning his shoes! I am not saying Jimin doesn't feel sick, but he is obviously far from miserable.

The most popular theory is that Jimin has motion sickness from driving since he is known to get motion sick. I personally struggle with this theory since he is in such a good time in the car and not holding back puke the whole time. My personal theory is that Jimin is probably hungover, but obviously I could be wrong. Another reasonable guess would be that he is recovering from food poisoning or a stomach bug where he is feeling better, but still fragile. Either way, he seems okay for the most part.

▶︎ Bullying or playing?

I'm going to try to stick to the events in this section, but please keep reading because I have some things I want to point out in the next section.

It starts with the guys hanging out on the floor together having fun just being with each other. Tae and Jungkook start head banging while Jimin lays on the ground next to them. Jimin then sits up and says he feels sick. Then he tries to lay on Jungkook, but they both laugh when Jungkook stops him (while looking directly at the camera). At that point Tae spins Jimin around and wants Jimin to join them in head banging, but Jimin says he might throw up.

Jimin goes along with it anyway right up until his stomach revolts. At this point, Jimin pushes Tae's hand away and lays down. Tae laughs and Jimin smiles. Pretty sure he is feeling a bit like an old man.

Shortly later we see Jimin happily hanging out on the floor and singing when Jungkook decides to go swimming.

Then comes the water guns. Jimin is relaxing on the ground singing to himself when Jungkook runs up and sprays him and then runs off to ambush Tae. Jimin says he's exhausted at this point, but he doesn't seem upset, more like just stating facts and maybe explaining why he isn't joining them. There's lots more spraying by Jungkook, then Jimin goes back to singing while they reload and both come back for another round and soak Jimin. All the while they are spraying him, Jimin keeps laughing. Even when you can't pick out Jimin's individual laugh, (after 1 min mark in the video below) you can see his shoulders moving and at the end, you can clearly hear him laugh to himself, still entertained by the antics of these big kids.

Jimin changes into swim trunks and watches his friends play in the pool before sitting down and talking to us about how he is getting older and his body doesn't work the same anymore. He's obviously not feeling up to joining Tae and Jungkook in the pool, but he's smiling and moving around. And after talking to some birds, he decides to nap on the ground instead of going to lay down in bed.

Also, after a little nap and rest, Jimin starts running around with the water guns and then they all go to indoor rock climb and ride go-carts.

▶︎ Jimin isn't helpless. Period.

I have rewatched the footage over and over so I can look critically at the situation and three key things stand out to me:

Jimin isn't "that" sick. I am not trying to minimize how Jimin felt at all. He was obviously unwell and wanted to rest. However Jimin wasn't so sick that he couldn't get up and leave if he had wanted to. He had lots of chances to go lay down in bed and chose to stay over and over again. But we saw Jimin go all out chasing Tae earlier, and after a nap, Jimin is back to goofing around.

People need to respect Jimin and his choices. He isn't powerless. He knows how to set boundaries and chooses which boundaries to set, like pushing Tae's hand away when he feels like he might puke. Jimin is not being forced to stay downstairs, start round two with the water guns, go rock climbing, or ride go-carts. All of these were his choice and point to him feeling well enough and wanting to participate in the ways he chooses.

Jungkook and Tae are playing and laughing with Jimin. They are not trying to be mean to Jimin, they are including him in their fun. And we clearly see Jimin laughing and smiling in response. Even when he tells Tae to stop spraying him, he says it in a very soft, not assertive way and then continues to stay there and laugh when they keep spraying him. He isn't getting annoyed or frustrated. Jimin may not feel like getting up and running around with them (at least not in that moment because he does later), but he seems more entertained by their behavior than annoyed.

▶︎ Look again

When I watched the first and last time, I saw so much love and joy and I don't know how people missed it.

Love is never an excuse for putting up with someone who treats you badly. When people set boundaries, they should be respected. In order for me to see the behavior in this episode as anything other than harmless play, I would have to believe that Jungkook and Tae were intentionally being cruel, Jimin was upset by how he was being treated, and that Jimin wasn't capable of stopping the situation when ever he wanted. But I just can't find any evidence showing any of that. In fact, I see the opposite.

I’m going to focus only on what we see in this episode, but we have years of evidence that we are ignoring.

When Jimin is actually sleeping, we see both Tae and Jungkook check in on him and leave him to rest peacefully.

And later, when Jimin cut his lip, the panic and concern on both Tae and Jungkook's faces speaks volumes. Yes, it only takes a second for them to realize that Jimin is okay (that's how well they can read him) and return to smiling and being playful. But even when Tae breaks the tension with a fake punch, Jimin doesn't show even the slightest bit of annoyance. This is how they often play together and Jimin is okay with that in this moment.

Can I just point out for a second how funny I find it when Jungkook turns and tells the staff that Jimin got hurt like a little kid telling the teacher? 😂

This is their bond and we only get a glimpse of it. And we can’t forget the fact that Jungkook picked up and brought Jimin his shoes. If touching those things isn't an act of love, I don't know what is. LOL

I watched this episode over and over again and I didn't see Jimin being too sick and weak to set boundaries for himself. If Jimin had wanted Jungkook and Tae to leave him alone, I believe Jimin would have communicated that clearly and firmly and they would have listened. We have years of evidence that both Jungkook and Tae love and respect Jimin, to the point where people feel "shocked by this side of them they have never seen before". I think it's because "this side of them" doesn't exist and has been imagined by people that have forgotten that Jimin can set boundaries and make decisions for himself. I don't understand how people can ignore the evidence in order to see their play filled day together as something toxic and cruel.

Ultimately, it isn't up to us to decide if Jimin is being bullied, it's his. And if you look to him for signs he is upset with what is happening, there just isn't any evidence of that at all.

I say this from a place of love and without judgement... if you are more upset for Jimin than he is, then this may be less about Jimin and his relationships and more about how you feel in yours. If you saw something other than Jimin choosing to participate in his own way and having fun in spite of feeling under the weather, I suggest you spend some time reflecting on your ability to set boundaries for yourself. ❤️

[ikanasocking]

Gaining new insight

Up ahead will be a stroy cotaining: weight gain and socks tf. Not a fan? Maybe nothing for you :) Now enjoy my new story:

The days went ahead without any new events. Kyle and Thomas just live their lives as roommates in their apartment. Nothing was out of the ordinary. From the outside you saw Kyle as a nerdy guy who spend his days in front of a computer screen. Rarely seen outside the flat. His blonde hair were always a little bit messy. But he paid no mind about his outer appearance. He loved food and that showed a lot around his middle section. He was not just a little bit chubby. You could say he was straight up fat. It took a lot of effort to get up from his gaming chair and go into the kitchen, for the next meal.

Thomas on the other hand kept his body in check. He was just an average guy who spent most of his time reading books or attending some football games from time to time. By all means he was no athlete at all. But at least he was doing something. His brown hair was long and always in good shape. He washed it nearly every day. Like that he was paying a lot of mind to what people were thinking of him. How he looked or how he behaved.

When both guys went to collage they met for the first time in this particular flat. At the beginning they tried to get to know each other better, but decided, that they had not so much in common. So they just lived side by side, without interacting a lot. At least that was what you could see from outside. If you would take a closer looks, Thomas was hiding a secret from his flatmate. And that was a love. A love for his socks. He had no idea why. If you would ask him, he would tell you that he could only love women. And this was correct to some extent. He had no hots for any men. But their socks, that was another thing. It was embarrassing for him to talk about it, so he did it in secret. From time to time, he would take socks from Kyle. Wearing them, using them for other things or just enjoying the smell. Kyle was oblivious to this fact. He would not even care, since he was not interested in anything else then his games.

Many more weeks went by and exams were due. After the last of them, Thomas was feeling relieved and happy that he got through it. The results were still to come but right now he could not do anything else then wait. Kyle was doing the same. He was lucky, he did not have to study. Hearing stuff was enough for him to memorize it and pass everything with flying colors. Back in the flat, both guys went to their rooms and minded their own business. Thomas was reading and Kyle was browsing the internet for nothing in particular. He just went from link to link. Until one ad caught his attention.

“If you could make one wish come true, what would it be? Try our new wish granting website. It will change your life!”

Curios and amused he clicked on the ad and expected to find a site full or commercials for all kind of different stuff. But nothing like this popped up. Instead a blank site with just the phrase: state your wish and an empty box below it. Kyle thought that it was all a joke and just went on with it.

“I wish for a roommate who understands me”, he typed in and waited.

After a short delay the site reloaded and another texted popped up.

“Wish granted.”

Kyle laughed and thought nothing of it. He closed the site and went to bed. Thomas was doing the same. The next day, Thomas woke up with an unusual headache. He got up and went into the bathroom. He washed his faced and looked at himself. Nothing out of the ordinary. He did not even look paler than usual. Strange. Maybe it was just the stress he had the last weeks. His stomach growled and he felt like he had not eaten in weeks.

“Time for breakfast”, he thought and went into the kitchen. The fridge was nearly empty. Only some sweet stuff that Kyle normally kept there.

“He will not be up for another three hours and I can go get something new for him, before he even notices.”

So Thomas began to stuff his face with the sweets. It tasted better than he expected. Usually he hated sweet stuff. But today it tasted different. He could understand why Kyle ate so much of this stuff. But sooner then he would have wanted to, it was all gone. But his hunger was still not sated. So he went shopping. Replaced the stuff he took from Kyle and bought a lot more things. And so his eating started again. After a few hours he was sated and looked around. He saw the amount he ate and was surprised. How could he eat so much all of the sudden? He was shocked and decided it was time to go jogging. He cleaned up, changed his cloths and went out.

Right when Kyle woke up. He just heard the door closing. He was too lazy to get up and so he stayed in bed. After exact an hour, Thomas came back. He was sweaty and out of breath. With all the food in his body it was harder than usual. But coming back, his hunger was awakened again.  But he knew there was not much left in the fridge. He took a shower and went to Kyle’s door. He knocked.

“Yeah?” was the answer.

“I am going to the grocery store. You want something?”

Kyle told his friend some stuff he could get him and Thomas left the house. This time he bought a lot more food and filled the fridge to the brim.  So he began eating again. The weeks went by and Thomas was discovering a lot of changes. His hunger was only the beginning. Next was his interests that shifted to video games. He noticed that he was chatting with Kyle about his games from time to time. Thomas was feeling lazier and lazier by the day. He stopped going out for jogs or anything else. And became more and more like Kyle. He understood why Kyle like his life so much. And another thing that he was noticing. His belly was gradually growing. First just a little bit. But with the time it became clearer and clearer. Every new pound was a new sensation for Thomas. He never imagined it would feel so good, having his body jiggling with every step. Another week went by and finally Kyle and Thomas were playing games together. And one more week later, Thomas came clear about his embarrassing secret. Kyle seemed to not care at all. He was just happy, that he had someone who understood him and was playing games with him. Until one day, a friend of Thomas visited them, since he had not heard anything of him. He was disgusted when he saw what had become of Thomas.

“Boy, what did you do to yourself? Did you eat someone? You look like a disgusting pig.”

Thomas was hit hard with these words. The opinion of his friends were important for him. But he wanted to feel good as he was. This was him. He just never admitted to it. The next day’s Kyle did neither see nor heard anything of Thomas. He was just in his room and was thinking about his life. Kyle was desperate to help his friend. He went through his browser history and found the wish granting site. He still thought that it was just a joke, but he wanted to make Thomas feel better. So he send him the link with a message.

“Maybe you will feel better, if you can wish for the pain to go away. It is worth a try.”

Thomas received the message and smiled. Kyle was such a sweet heart. He thanked him and opened the site.  He knew exactly what he wanted to wish for.

“I wish to be have more supportive friends.”

The site granted his wish. Thomas was already feeling better. He went over to Kyle and talked to him, while taking care of his beautiful socked feet.

A few weeks went by and suddenly Thomas friend was at their door again.

“What do you want? Want to make fun of me again?” he asked.

“I am sorry that I was such a jerk.”

Surprised Thomas asked him to come in and went to his room.

“You are sorry?”

“Yes. I was just, I don’t know. Shocked isn’t even the right word. Surprised and jealous. You can live your live like you want. While I am still stuck at thinking too much about the opinion of others. I am truly sorry. Can I make it up to you?”

Thomas was totally flashed by this. He never thought his friend would say something like this.

“I don’t know” he said, in total awe.

“Maybe I can give you a foot rub?”

With that his friend reached for his feet. Today, Thomas was wearing Kyle’s socks. Just like nearly every day. Since he told Kyle about it, they shared their socks. When his friend’s hands made contact with the socks, a strange sensation hit him. It was like he wanted to be these socks? Yeah that was right. He just did not want to, he needed to be Thomas socks. This was the only way he could make it up to him. Furiously he began to rub his hands up and down. Until he noticed something. His hands were fusing with the cotton. Yeah that was it. The beginning of being his friend’s most supportive friend. Slowly his body began to be engulfed by the cotton. The feeling was indescribable. Like he was not only turning to cotton. He was a living being inside it. Finally it was time to give up his human form and he was sucked in completely into the socks. With that Thomas looked around, not remembering what he was doing. He did not remember his friend who was now trapped as his socks for the rest of his live. The site granted his wish, just not in a way, that Thomas would have expected it. Now he had only supportive friends. Kyle, who was there for him. And the other one who were his socks or better their socks. Thomas wasted no time going over to Kyle for another sock playing session. His socks were eager to experience this and could not wait to be used by both boys, who now owned him.

[riddle-me-ri]

Since requests are open I would like to request the various riddlers doing snow angels and having a snowball fight with their S/O.

A/N: aww this is super cute! Sorry if some of the headcanons get a wee repetitive. I-I was running out of steam hehe…sorry plus I’m slowly but surely coming back to writing after a wee break…but here ya go!

Snow Angels and Snowball Fights w/ The Riddlers:

Arkhamverse Riddler: 

- First of all, first of all…congrats on getting him outside. 

- Please make sure he’s wearing enough layers. 

- Yes, he’s gonna complain but for as hot blooded and hot headed as he gets, he’s useless against the cold. 

- However, good luck trying to get him to participate in other winter activities. 

- He may roll his eyes as you plop in the snow and wave your limbs like a child. 

- But don’t be surprised if a snowball fight occurs.

- Ed’s already got several riddlerbots on deck that can form snowballs at rapid speed. 

- A fight is a challenge, a challenge to win, and Edward Nygma doesn’t lose (unless it’s Batman…just don’t say that)

- Bonus: once y’all get back inside, be ready with a couple cups of hot chocolate. 

Reevesverse/Dano Riddler: 

- Winters at the orphanage left many children ill, and at the very worst dead. 

- It will take some time for you to open him up that the season can actually be fun. 

- He’ll be confused at first when you fall back into the snow, he frantically tries to catch you from the fall. 

- However when he notices you giggling and making a snow angel, it makes him laugh. 

- When he decides to join you in the snow, he finds himself being extremely giddy. 

- Later you were able to talk him into a snowball fight. At first he’s unsure cause he doesn’t want to hurt you

- One swift snowball to the shoulder from you, has him thinking otherwise.

- You’re not sure who won or lost when you’re both laughing breathlessly on the ground. 

- Edward knows one thing for sure, he’s grateful for you and he enjoys being able to actually feel like a kid. 

Gotham Riddler: 

- Um…what?

- Why…why did you fall to the snow? You’re going to get snow on your clothes?!

- Feel free to jump back up and just push him into the snow. 

- He’ll be frustrated that snow is on him, but he won’t be for long. 

- You do look rather cute when you’re proud of yourself. 

- However, be on your guard. 

- While he’s on the ground he’s slowly grabbing some snow to shape into a small snowball. 

- He leans up, you think he’s getting up, but he’s actually tossing a snowball into your gut and taking off. 

- It’s game on! Good luck!

BTAS Riddler: 

- Edward enjoys participating in activities you take pleasure in. 

- At least most of them, and if he’s not sure, he’s willing to try them once for you. 

- When you call out his name and slowly begin falling backwards

- He's quick to try and catch you but finds himself on top of you. 

- Eddie's shaking his head, but chuckling when he realizes you were just making snow angels. 

- He's quick to plop beside you and make one of his own.

- While his guard is down, this is the perfect chance to make an attack.

- However unbeknownst to you, Eddie was thinking the same. 

- You both end up putting snow in each other's faces.

- Better get up and reload quick and gather your defenses! 

Zero Year/Capullo Riddler: 

- Good luck trying to get this sensitive pansy ass out in the cold. 

- I don’t know why, but I can see this Eddie despising winter. 

- So it's going to be a lot just to get him outside. 

- You'll probably have to drag him outside. 

- Once he's outside, you can trip him to faceplant in the snow

- However, Eddie will probably respond better by proposing a snowball fight. 

- It's a way to stay active and warm against the plummeting weather. 

- Although that'll make him propose an alternative activity instead.

- Beat his ass with a cold, cold, snowy shower.

Twojar Riddler: 

- Same for this Riddler asdfgh when it comes to the cold.

- But he’s less of an asshole about it and will indulge you. 

- He will be amused seeing you enjoying yourself. 

- Making tiny snow people, making snow angels. 

- You are very adorable.

- While he's distracted, this is a perfect chance to surprise him with a sneak attack!

- He's surprised when he's wiping away snowy debris from his face. 

- Don't be surprised if a snowball twice the size of your head knocks you down. 

- Much like other Riddlers he plays for keeps

Gotham City Sirens Riddler: 

- He’s a tad reluctant to leave his cozy home/office to the freezing cold. 

- You may have to trick him or tell him it’ll only be for a little bit. 

- Ed rolls his eyes affectionately when he sees you on the ground already making snow angels. 

- You invite him to join, he refuses his head, something about enjoying watching you.

- Feel free to yank him down by his scarf, he’ll have no choice then. 

- Ed will also seem indifferent to a snowball battle.

- However, he’s actually looking for an opening.

- There’s this weird unspoken tension of who is going to throw the first snowball before you two get back home. 

- Whether it’s you or him, the battle goes on for awhile. The both of you too stubborn to lose to the other. 

- But you both go home feeling satisfied with an entertaining date out in the snow. 

Young Justice Riddler: 

- This poor boy wouldn’t mind the cold…

- If he just had the tiniest bit of muscle mass to retain his own body heat.

- So before you take him outside, please, PLEASE make sure he’s wearing plenty of layers. 

- He may fight you on it, but yes the two scarves, beanie and gloves are A MUST. 

- However, he's all here to get to spend quality time with you in the snow. 

- You giggle at your drastic different snow angels. 

- You can’t help but feel bad, when you throw a particular snowball that knocks him off his feet and faceplant into the snow. 

- It’s all fun and games, don’t worry, but just be sure to take care of him when you get back home. 

- How you take care of him, I’ll leave that up to y’all lmao (and by y’all I’m mostly looking at abby rip)

Telltale Riddler:

- You absolute fucking child. 

- He has no time for this childishness. 

- This Edward is particularly older. 

- While he’s in decent shape…the same can’t be said for his body temperature. 

- Playing in the snow doesn’t sound all the decent. 

- So the minute he steps foot outside to get something–

- You gotta nail him with a snowball. 

- He may be pissed, but he’s still petty enough to try and throw one back. 

- Congratulations, you’ve gotten him into a snowball fight!

-(spoiler alert; despite his age, you’ll probably lose because he wants to go back inside before he freezes)

Hush (DCAU) Riddler: 

- For no particular reason (other than to possibly change it up a little lol) I think this Ed enjoys the winter time. 

- He especially enjoys it, because he has you to spend the fun weather with. 

- Eddie enjoys being able to just be himself with you.

- Laughing, smiling, and having fun. 

- Making snow people, snow angels, catching snowflakes. 

- It's only traditional for you two to have a classic snowball fight. 

- The loser has to make hot chocolate for the winner!

- Although, it's hard to determine a winner when you both end up tackling each other in the snow.

- This Edward is on borrowed time, so to speak, so any chances to get to spend time with you is the greatest gift he could ever get for this season.

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

BFDG prompt 3:

22: BFDG “Reaction to Slayer finally getting his armor”

“Sound off, who’s not dead?” Winston’s voice rasped as he gasped for air. His rebreather system struggled to keep up from that last dash. The Guardsmen Commander scanned the display on his head's up display. Then turning to do a physical headcount, six others beside himself not including the big guy. So far so good even as two were collapsing now that Slayer had finished barricading the door before the thumps started.

The big guy was standing back up, watching the vibrations before nodding in satisfaction. They would have a few hours at least before reinforcements came. They did not need that long here. Slayer huffed a greeting, smiling as Bitty swung around him in the air, glad the little drone made it. 

“How long do we have?” Richard asked after everyone made sure their small team was still alive. 

Slayer made a face as he turned, thinking about it he held up his hand with four fingers up, then carefully lowered one at the second knuckle.

“Three and a half?” Richard asked, getting a nod. “...Minutes?”

Everyone paused to turn to stare at the giant not-really man. Slayer grinned and shook his head, holding his hands close even with his modified weapon in hand. Then spread the space out wide.

“Hours?” Winston tried, sighing in relief with the other Guardsmen at the grin and nod. “Thank gods. Okay everyone reload before checking and treating any wounds. How are you doing, Jackson?”

The black armored man looked up and then started a bit as the mass of Slayer was kneeling beside him. “I can still feel my hand, but I think the bio foam is degrading in the heat.”

Jackson shifted, but let the demigod carefully lift the smaller man’s damaged right arm. Being exceedingly gentle with the inspection, turning to chuff at Winston, who had the last can of the foam. Most of those present had to use the stuff, supporting injuries until they could get back to the nearest exit portal. Taking the can that was tossed over, opening it as he had been shown and been watching. Fit the nozzle into the crack in the armor like it had been done before, then a few spots- snorting and then leaned down to sniff the older, now bloody foam that was pushed out.

Infection was trying to start. Not too bad but something they needed to watch. Slayer reached up to pat Jackson’s helmet as if trying to ruffle hair, giving him the can that still was pretty full. Getting up to walk around the once tomb chamber, eyes tracing the walls.

His prison. His tomb.

The demigod snorted, looking up at the ceiling and recognized he used to stare at it when the blood priests used to…feed Slayer souls and the liquid energy. 

Shaking his head firmly, pushing those memories away he walked around the room. Finding where the draw of his attention was. Almost in the direct line from the main entrance. He rumbled then chuffed a warning sound going back to the door. Growling at it and there was scrambling to get away, turned and leveled the modified plasma weapon at the wall. The Guardsmen flattened out and got further out of the way as Slayer's weapon whined softly at the over charge before letting it fire. Cracking the slate and stone as much as weakening it before setting his gun down on the podium that once housed his sarcophagus. Taking three long strides and put not only his momentum but his whole self into punching the cracks. Widening them as the demigod used brute force of the physical kind to pry out the chucks until he found…

“Is that a glove?” Richard asked as his prosthetic right arm was limping hanging while Winston was helping him clean it. 

“...holy shit.” Winston found it appropriate to curse, getting a rasping laugh from Slayer as the demigod used his knife to help pry out the gauntlet from where it was imbedded into the stone. The armor twitching in response to him as he pulled the parts out in a whole piece of glove and forearm cover.

Shaking the dust off the armor and himself, Slayer gave a satisfied rumble as he fitted the familiar piece onto his right arm. Flexing his hand and felt the part shift and alter to fit his current state. Not that hitting stone with his bare hands seemed to affect the big guy, but with that gauntlet on he cracked through the stone faster. Pulling a part out at a time, but only putting on the gauntlets to help himself get everything out and cleaned up. The darkened armor was oddly lightening somewhat, starting with the gloves as if it was pulling power from Slayer himself.

He flexed his hands and prying the helmet out from where it was embedded into the stone. The last part. It took about forty minutes to get everything out and then moved to where the sarcophagus used to be. Pulling out several things from subspace freely now to wipe down the inside of the Praetor suit first, getting all the grit out.

Slayer did not mind the Guardsmen that came to see what he was doing. If anything grinning and showing off his armor, able to tell now when they were impressed by the subtle body language. Different from his Argenta, but still as curious.

“What's this?” Winston asked as he poked at a large pile of the black fabric. What he assumed was fabric as Slayer was trying to clean the worst of the demonic gorenest off his legs. The death ash staining his skin was just barely given an attempt, enough to get the worst off.

Slayer glanced over and poked a knuckle at Richard's middle. Humming as he tried to use the Argenta silent language.

“We need to work on direct communication some more.” Richard noted, watching the demigod huff in agreement before pointing to the fabric then to the armor. 

Getting up, the Slayer stretched…and dropped his pants. Grinning at the groans of protest as the guards scattered, Slayer half sat to get his under suit on. His bulk seemed bigger without the layering of scarring readily visible to distract; his outline stood out more. 

Boots were found, check again for anything inside before fitted on. From feet up, his armor was finally getting put into place. Now and then a part was taken back off but with some help from smaller hands got the pebble out. He stood up slowly, rolling his shoulders to help settle the back and chest plates into place. Slayer wondered if he should teach the guardsmen how to help him get his armor on. He could and did get it on right, the Praetor suit was fully activated and responsive to his body as it should. Altering to fit and the cover as much as his form as the Praetor suit realized that it's wearer was technically and compared to before underweight. Though the humans never seemed to realize yet why the demigod got frustrated at himself, Slayer had lost muscle mass when trapped.

He would start gaining it and his old strength again now that he was fighting and absorbing energy again. Now he could get it back at a faster pace with the suit! 

“Holy fuck,” Richard noted as he stared openly from where he sat on the ground, the elite guard composter rattled just enough. Also trusting this giant of a man to let their guard down just that bit despite where they were. The big guy was…big, being twelve feet tall on bare feet, with the almost alien-like armor he filled out in mass more.

“Big guy?” Cruz asked as she stared upwards, managing to hold her ground as Slayer turned his attention to her. He grinned wide at the fully armored woman, and showed off his helmet to her before putting it on. Smoothing a thumb over the glyph before he stood a moment in full gear.

…Slayer leaned forward and gave himself a full body shake. Unknowingly it was something not unlike what the guardsmen did when they were in full armor for the first time after a shift off. As if it were a universal thing to do, something so oddly human to shimmy and settle into the armor.

There was a faint humming from the Praetor suit itself, the demigod looking at his rigged weapon on the ground. Picking it up to slip into the suit's weapon storage. Let the Praetor suit link up to it. Then the Slayer pulled out his trusted Argenta made ballista.

“I don't know what that is, but I like it.” Winston's voice drew Slayer's attention.

With the helmet on they could not see the giant man's expressions. But his own body language reflected excitement as the demigod sat down on his heels. Turning the weapon around in his hands and seemed happy if not eager to show it off as the guardsmen that came back closer. Showing off how he still had the muscle memory to open the weapon, check the power cells were all charged and put back together.

“What's the kickback?” Jackson asked, getting a few odd inches of space between large fingers as a response. “Decent? Does your armor help with that?”

Slayer nodded, with a happy chuff and freed his right arm to curl it up as if to show off a flexing bicep. Armor and his strength!

Cruz reached out as the armor lowered, being aloud to look over the massive hand. Her own covered fingers seemed oddly slim as she traced over the back of his right gauntlet. Hells, Jackson looked to have dainty hands in comparison too where he was trying to investigate the massive minigun like weapon. Some of the black flaked off under her touch, showing a dark olive tone under it. “What other goodies do you have?”

Slayer tilted his head, paused looked at where Richard was still sitting and resting. 

Everyone saw he had an Idea as Slayer perked up. Shamelessly shoving his ballista into Jackson and Winston’s hands. Effectively distracting them as he rocked forward and then looming over the worst injured Guardsman. His armor only adding to his bulk and blocked out a few touches’ light.

“Uuuum, what are you doing big guy?” Richard almost flinched as the demigod set a large, glowing blue bottle to the side of the human that was pulled out of Slayer's subspace. Then yelped as the massive hands closed around the Guardsman.

Outside the once tomb chamber there was a pause in the onslaught. An older Knight snapping until there was some quiet. Only it was not really quiet, even with the several foot thick door sound just making it out. Muffled but clearly some sort of yelling from the mortals inside. The demons exchanged worried looks when a thunder deep voice started laughing distinctly.

Was…. Was the Great Slayer eating the souls for himself before emerging?! 

The knight looked around, there should be one of the Barron's Prowlers around to send another message back- The doors burst open and the fully armored Slayer pulled back, letting the three Guardsmen fire his ballista before swinging his personal shotgun up to fire at those still alive. The horde outside screamed in horror realizing their only real predator was seemingly back at power.

[autisticblueteam]

Appears from the ether again, after months of only being present enough to fill my queue up, with some WIP snippets from the gen:LOCK re-write I mentioned before...

And also finally adressing these tags lmao, sorry @thesouppond I realise these are like 3 months old.

#FUCK IM JUST SEEING THIS NOW???#FUCK YEAH 2024 SEASON OF EVERYONE GETS TO REWRITE GENLOCK CAUSE FUCK S2#Ahem anyway hi genlock moot :)))#I love your writing btw! Ive read your existing GL fics theyre great!#at this point if someone can give me a GL fic i havent already met I will forever be indebted to you i am DYING for GL content

We're really out here trying our best to do better by GL than HBO did huh!! I've been loving Reloaded, it was so nice to see someone else pop up in the gL tag after it was comparatively dead for so long. I've been working on my re-write since just after s2 came out and it was lonely in there for a while there lmao.

So I'm glad you enjoyed the couple of fics I've already done! I'm re-using parts of one of them for the actual re-write since I'm going for the 'keep the basic bones of s2 but aim to fix the execution into something less shit/re-work the worst bits' and I didn't want to write that first nemesis fight over again from total scratch lmao...

I want to finish writing all of the re-write before I post it in full, but that does mean it's taking forever whoops.

I'm still not past the introduction of Sinclair as his portion is so involved and I keep getting distracted by other projects/hobbies, but I did finally get to a point where my take on Sinclair is actually fun to write! I'm keeping his boyfriend because I did at least like that Sinclair was made canonically queer and they're actually cute when I'm just doing my own thing.

So since I feel like posting some WIP bits, here's my favourite Chris/Sinclair stuff I've done so far.

“YEAH! Take that you fucked up tin can!” Sinclair winced. The shout was like an ice pick being driven into his skull, but it was also what finally drove him to lift his head. There ahead of him, wielding a large piece of debris in one hand, was a heavyset Asian man dressed in torn clothes and covered in grime. He reared back, and for a split second Sinclair thought that projectile was for him, until he heard an impact, and the last of the humming died. The man brushed off his hands, pride written on every feature, and in that moment he was the most beautiful thing Sinclair had ever seen. “Coast’s clear!” the stranger called behind him. There was movement, but Sinclair didn’t care to look, his attention caught by the man’s approach. “And we’ve got a live one.” Sinclair’s throat was so dry he broke down coughing twice, in the time it took the stranger to kneel in front of him. “I-I’m not Union. I-I know— with the uniform, and the—” Another violent burst of coughing cut him off. The stranger handed him a canteen and a crooked smile. “Yeah, no shit. You’ve got way too much emotion on your face to be even a defector,” he said, and if Sinclair wasn’t so busy chugging the offered water, he might have mustered a laugh. “That, plus, the lack of helmet, the collapsing, and the drone getting ready to turn you into a novelty cheese grater kinda gave it away.” “Christ, I could kiss you right now,” Sinclair blurted and then regretted in quick succession. Fuck. He’d been in near solitary too long, his filter had worn away to nothing and he was making a damn fool of himself in front of the first sane people he’d seen in weeks. Except the stranger just… laughed, good-naturedly. “Close, the name’s Chris, not Christ. And I’d say buy me dinner first, but it’s a bit hard out here.”

AND then a little later...

“What about the refugee railroads?” Chris lowered his beer bottle and wiped his mouth. “Too far.” “Vanguard safe crossings?” “Too far.” “The— fucking Canadian border?” Chris laughed, “Too far. Further than either of the other things. Jesus, dude. You sure you haven’t got a concussion?” “Mostly,” Sinclair said, rubbing his face with his intact hand. “I just— you’re going to die if you stay here. A drone only has to get lucky once.” “And if we go deeper in, we’ll only die faster,” Chris said with a simple shrug. “We already have to pack up and move every few weeks when the line moves. And every time, the Polity border gets a little bit further away. Believe me, man, I want nothing more than to get outta here, but it’s just not happening.” “What if I helped?” The offer fell out before he’d consciously decided to make it, but Sinclair stood by it. Even when Chris looked at him dubiously. “No offence, dude, but you’re just one guy. And two days ago you could barely stand.” “And now I’m fine,” Sinclair insisted. “I’m a soldier. I was decorated for valour after I got my squad out of a run-in with the Union that should’ve killed us all. I was the only one who could even still hold a gun. I swear, I could get you somewhere safe. Are you really telling me you’d rather keep sitting around waiting to die than take a risk?” Chris’s brow furrowed, and he didn’t answer immediately, taking another swig from his scratched up bottle of beer. Sinclair sighed. “Look. I need to get to a Vanguard base one way or another. I don’t want to leave you guys behind if I don’t have to. I owe you my life. And maybe dinner.” Chris almost choked on his drink. “Wow,” he laughed, clearing his throat, “you sure pick your moments, huh?” Sinclair shrugged. “Figure if you’re not actually into it I’ll just blame the concussion.” “That you don’t have.” “Exactly.” Chris rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Smooth. Smooth operator. Alright, alright, fine, we’ll talk to the others in the morning. It might be a tougher sell when they’re not the ones getting dinner with a hot soldier out of it, but hey, guess we’ll see.” “Are you looking past the just-got-done-being-tortured chic, here, or is that part of the charm?” “Are you kidding? There’s a whole genre focused on how hot soldier guys look after they’ve been through hell.” “Not sure that’s the intended takeaway of action movies.” “Well,” Chris shrugged, starting to pick at a can of food, “it was definitely my takeaway.” Sinclair laughed. Honest-to-god laughed, in a way he was surprised he was even capable of after the last few weeks. The normality of the moment was like a balm on all the aching parts of him, mental and physical alike. For a moment he could almost forget that the reason he looked like shit was because he’d just escaped the worst experience of his life. For a moment it felt like the fight was over.

Now I just have to actually get through the remainder of my Sinclair set-up and then I'll be only one chapter away from finishing the first half of the fic... so close and yet so far lmao.

[ddwcaph-game]

dear diary, i hope this isn’t formatted weirdly since i’m sending it with my phone. i’m sorry if it is. anyways i loved the new fighting scene with the twins. esp since you could now pick your wing and it felt like it had all flown better. and the new targets for it. it’s gonna be hard getting 2000 warm points for my star twin mc but we’ll see (they can be nice… sometimes)

i also like the NP choices. they’re very silly most ot the time and my star twin had a hard time choosing whether tita steph would get a fly in her mouth or if they should be mature and calm her down (they chose the fly)

but i will admit that the way i played it my star twin didn’t use their NP much lmao. so when the saving rosie scene came up it was alllllll gone (which makes sense mc is retconning a entire event after all) i also noticed the NP requirement would raise depending on how much you had since when i reloaded with more NP, how much i needed became higher…. you’re mean franzinyte /j… plus the 69/420 joke, i laughed.

my star twin also picked the draconic ancestry and the twins replying yes to if they had every power was so true. it wouldn’t be cool otherwise. my star twin begs wayne draws them cool but they allowed him to go wild with it…

gonna have to play as my heart twin soon but my star twin had a lot of fun this update!!! i enjoyed it and it’s clear you worked really hard on it. even if it was mostly the older chapters being updated, i always find myself picking a newer choice then i did previously since it usually fits my twin even more than it did previously.

ps. weird question and off topic but when we share a playthrough code like obviously you see the stats but do you see it like the readers see it on the screen? like what we named the twins and stuff? i’m curious.

Hehe, don't worry, it's fine! I love getting long asks anyway. 😊

I'm glad you like the new fighting scene! That took me a while to plan and write. As for the sidequests, don't worry about it too much for now. It's very likely that I'll adjust the point requirements, and you'll have six volumes to finish the sidequest anyway.

Oh, and I'm glad you like the NP choices! I'm not sure how people would like them for the most part, but it's fairly good so far. And yes, the NP requirement for the bus choice always changes depending on the amount you have. That doesn't mean you can just spend all your NP before that choice anyway—the amount you saved will affect other things in the future.

And yup, the Draconic Ancestry seems really popular. I had fun writing the new scenes for each ancestry/heritage, so you can check out a different one with your other playthroughs too!

As for the playthrough code... no, I can't see what you named your twins or anything you typed, so don't worry. 😛 It just contains a bunch of stats, traits, and variables for me to track what's in the choices summary. For example, the very first line always contains your 4 attributes, plus the percentage of all your personality stats.

But it's mostly gibberish to me. I just have an excel sheet that tallies the code for me. That's how I get all the percentage for the choices summary.

Thanks for sending this lovely ask!

[titanicfreija]

"These will be more personal questions, and possibly upsetting."

"Oh-kay?"

"When you die, are you frightened?"

"... No. Haven't had a good reason to be. There's places where I would be, but I haven't been."

"Is it painful?"

"Sometimes. I'm pretty good about dying fast, so not often. Surviving to flee hurts, though. Poor Sunny'll about cry if I do it too much, pretty sure she'd rather repair a corpse than heal a bullet wound that didn't kill me. Don't really blame her, they get pretty ugly. Crucible was hard on both of us for a while, but I'm pretty good at running before my shields break, these days."

"Is there a preferred or most hated death?"

"Ummm. If I've just really gotta die -- I don't like it. Even if it's not painful or scary, it's inconvenient-- but if I've really gotta pick the best and worst, it's Drop Pods and getting sniped by psions."

"You flatter us. Why?"

~

"Drop Pods are so fast they feel more like teleporting than dying. Psion snipers-- there's a few others that do this, but the psions came to mind because of you, I guess-- but so, the ones with the right firepower, I guess they're LFRs , they open whatever they shoot on the first hit. Sometimes it'll take them two, but they bust shield and plate and hit flesh before I can even register I've been shot, too busy reeling and confused, much less can I tell where it came from. Opens my helmet, ruins my visual feed, fucks with my hearing; clears armor off a chunk, at the very least a deep bruise; cripples or takes off a limb. They never kill me outright, though, so it's only going to damage and hurt. A lot. If I move fast enough, can get my barricade up-- and I have to start that as soon as I hear the charge up, I can't wait 'til I've been hit--and they're gonna hit me while I'm doing it-- I can save my ass and Sunny can heal me up before I try to run. Odds are decent that they'll pop me again before I can escape or chase me out of cover and into their allies. Prefer they get me than allies."

"How visceral."

"What's that mean?"

"It means the way you're talking about it makes it easy to imagine."

"Oh. So, yeah, I hate those things. They take juuuuuust long enough to kill me to be particularly memorable, and they're some of the hardest to escape and kill back with any kind of plain reaction-- gotta aim, they usually have friends a lot closer, and just... Yeah."

"Are you ever frightened on the battlefield?"

"... Of what? Consequences of loss, sometimes? Stakes aren't always high, but they get that way."

"Does dying frequently affect your mood?"

"... I get pretty angry after a minute. I'm usually trying to get something done, some loot or clearing somewhere important to Vanguard or civilians, and having to start over or start and stop, any time I can't get a job done when I wanted to, I get. Uh. Mean. And angry."

"It's okay. By the time she's lashing out at me, she's throwing herself into death head first over and over and I can just listen to her scream without having to hit back."

"Oh-ho!"

"Did you just make her laugh?"

"Shh."

"Hmph! Are you concerned for the lives and physical well-being of your Guardian friends?"

"Yeah to an extent. Rise hates being shot. And she's better at helping me up than I am at helping her up, so it's better for her to live than me. It's generally best to keep as many alive and healthy as possible just for the backup."

"What would you say was the worst death you can recall?"

"Woof...."

"I think that one--"

"I'm fine. It bothers Sunny more than me, because of when it happened but I was weak and reloading and a pair of Taken Knights rushed me, screaming fire all over. My shields were hardly up in the first place so it sank in quick and took way too long to kill me. And my own fire made it worse, trying to save me."

"I take it this is the advent featuring the shell with whiskers?"

"Yep. Sank deep. Hurt. Worth it! It's perfect and there's at least ten shaders that fit her look and even more that just look good. You've seen the bouncing and bobbing, we should have named her Bunny. Only thing she really asked me for, and I got it."

"Hmph. Is this pride common in Guardians?"

"I dunno? Probably?"

"Do you feel fear at all?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure why, half the time? And I have a phobia that you will hear nothing more about."

"I already snitched. She defended you."

"I'm still not talking about it."

"Truly?"

"I-- no. Nope. Nope, don't wanna, even if I could, and I can't 'cos my mouth is doing a thing."

"Ha!"

"I know, right? What's it gonna do, kill me?"

"The methane would have."

"True. But nope. Just can't and don't wanna. How about you?"

"..."

"Sorry. Nerves."

"Forgiven. Do I frighten you?"

"Uh... I think the word is intimidating? Imposing? You being in a room makes me want to be smaller."

"I will accept this. Do you fear pain?"

"I mean... Yeah? Certain kinds and levels, I guess, getting shot hurts a lot, but I hardly think about that anymore? It's... No. I don't. I should and I don't. I didn't wanna tell you that but Sunny just 'matted out of my pocket to drive her little eyeball into my visual, and I'm pretty sure that shell is strong enough to beat some dents in."

"Your Ghost intimidates you?"

"I have to live with her. Whole other kind of damage, trauma, and fear."

"She says as though she's not the one that lashes out inappropriately."

"You knock stuff over when you're grumpy, and push stuff off the fridge."

"Freija!"

"You snitched on my thing!"

"Sunny has a temper?"

"Caiatl!"

"I'm not gonna tell you it's worse than mine, but when I piss her off, she punishes me by talking over my head, refusing to help in combat. When we're all but in love, she'll put a requested gun in my hands, but when she's mad at me, she'll put it on the ground nearby. Steps away nearby."

"Can't believe this..."

"Gives me the silent treatment and vague visual cues. The first one that goes is coordinates-- she makes me punch in my own autopilot settings and coordinates. First clue, a thing she does when she's upset and my first chance to apologize, she has a nook on the fridge she runs to. I don't blame her, I am an absolute ass sometimes."

"sometimes!"

"Do Ghosts often "punish" their Guardians?"

"Rex is fuckin' mean. Sorry."

"You also know this Rex."

"Him and his Guardian live with us. Or I live with them. They make me feel bad, won't even be in the same room most of the time, but they're not the worst. I've heard about a hundred year silence, before. One that left hers down, that's probably the worst. I've heard a lot but I don't know how true any of them are. Comfortable guessing the Ghost is at least sometimes in the right."

"Hmph! Would Sunny leave you 'down'?"

"I won't say no, but I will say that if she ever does, I trust that judgement. Whatever I've done, whatever's gone wrong, it'll be for the best."

"Hmph! This is enough. I thank you for your time and honesty, Guardian."

"You're welcome...?"

"Freija...."

"It feels weird to say!"

"Try!"

"She's laughing again, relax."

"She's laughing because she thinks it's funny that I have to beg you to stop being a smartass at the leader of a multigalactic militaristic empire that blows up suns and has the technology to disrupt us!"

"I'm a kinderguardian with a popgun on a private comm channel septillion clicks away. I've also happened to be around for some really shitty days in the last couple years. She doesn't have to hold stature and I'm powerless. She likes that part, that's why she gets to ask all the questions she isn't allowed to ask Zavala no matter how friendly they get."

"That doesn't mean you can be rude!"

"It still feels weird to say!"

"I would allow something more natural if that is what the Guardian would prefer."

"Don't encourage her!"

"Now who's mouthing off the Empress of a multigalactic legion? No problem! Happy to help."

Hard Questions

New Angle

Honest

Radio Chat

Scripted Questions

Battlefield

Fear <-

Enlightening

More like Interrogation

(In)humanity

Underlying

Ghost Affection

@annieruok94 there's multiple again, I'm gonna do links.

[13skeletons]

oh boy. I woke up ready to rant about Siege of Dragonspear lol.

This is long and negative so if you like SoD, I am so sorry. I would genuinely love to know what you see in it because woof.

like. ok. I know we give ToB shit for being linear, but at least ToB gives you access to that statue in your base, very early on, that can summon companions for you to party with. I spent most of SoD with a less than full party because I wanted to run with the same people I'd had (minus Imoen. I have Thoughts on that too lol) and for some deranged reason Dorn is SUPER FAR in and locked in a cage? And then the reason for him being locked up is never even explained? (Unless I missed it somewhere, in my irritated rush to the end. Not impossible.)

Companion woes aside, ToB still gives you at least some choices. There are some branching paths, and the ending is not set. There are payoffs to earlier quests/moments that you can miss or not if you have the relevant items/flags. (Golden pantaloons, my beloved.) SoD didn't feel like it had any choices at all?

And the whole business with your gold getting "stored safely" and then getting gambled away and lost to you until the absolute very end of the game was so. Stupid. All that did was prevent me from buying very many of the new magic items at the shop in Baldur's Gate. And then the dude dies with a sword in his chest and Viconia is all "he is too far gone for me". GIRL YOU CAN RESURRECT THE DEAD WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. IT'S JUST A SWORD. THE BODY HAS TO BE MAIMED BEYOND RECOGNITION TO PREVENT RESSURECTION. MY GODS. So when you actually get the money back there's literally like 3 fights left in the whole game. What could you possibly need to buy at that point.

AND THEN. Imoen. What where they THINKING? They wanted to explain how she shows up dual-classed into mage in SoA. But that was literally never something that needed explaining. It is an EXTREMELY common tactic to dual class her at level 5 in BG1, and even if you didn't do that, dual-classing doesn't temporarily render you completely useless? Hello???? And they could've at least transferred her gear to Safana (or to me) when they tossed her into my party. But no, I just had a less-geared thief instead. Ugh.

And that doesn't even touch on the complete and total lack of balance to the combat encounters! Having trolls (and giant trolls. good lord) and dragons (not to mention a dragon with wyvern adds....) and mind flayers this early is BATSHIT INSANE. The enormous hordes of mooks that you wipe out with two fireballs render your melee fighters into wall-flowers. And then there's the enormous hordes of mooks that you can't throw fireballs at without hitting allied NPCs... (apparently Khalid died while breaking the siege and I didn't even realize because I was already so fed up at that point lmaooo). Whatever that tentacle boss was...

Also the total inability to manage your reputation carefully because you're on a railroad with set reputation gains and losses that you can do nothing about was really irritating to me personally because I prefer playing with mixed alignment groups. (Yes my evil friends did abandon me after the siege, forcing me to reload and figure out a way to lower my rep.) (And then later I encountered some random refugees and didn't even try to save them, I just killed the wolf that was near them, not realizing it was gonna give me reputation, and I had to reload AGAIN. But this time I was a lazy bastard and just fireballed everything, dropping my rep to like 6 and I never had to worry about it again lmao.) (Also while googling to try and find a way to deal with this issue, I read that it potentially causes problems for importing into BG2, which if that's true, I am gonna laugh somewhat hysterically.)

As for the "Hooded Man" (shut up she's so pretentious it's fucking Irenicus). I'm sorry but it literally makes no sense for him to be there. It makes no sense for him to be able to get into your dreams before he's ever even experimented on you.

Just. The whole thing ultimately felt totally unnecessary and I may well uninstall it to prevent the game from auto-loading me into it when next I complete BG1.

EDIT: I completely forgot about this because it's a comparatively minor complaint, but during the actual siege on the castle, there were so many mobs and NPCs that the game's audio essentially stopped working. There were so many characters trying do their "i took damage" noises that they'd play the first millisecond of one then the first millisecond of the next etc until the fight was over. Just a broken record of "arg-arg-arg-arg." lol. More evidence that no one reasonable balanced those encounters.

[mrssimply]

The Rubicon

As announced and teased, here is the second (and for now, final installment of my John Wick fic. I say final for now because I still have ideas, and I love these two very much so there is a possibility I might write more later.

Regarding this work, like the first, it flowed and I think I wrote it in something like a week. Everything was so clear, and easy which is a rarity when you're an author. It makes it precious for me.

I was buyoed by how amazing the fourth movie was, and when I got out I had so many feels to expel that I finished the first fic and started the second one right away. So this is basically a retelling of the fourth movie, with Santino alive (it briefly retrace what happens in the third, too).

Please, enjoy it, oh few John/Santino lovers like me. We should come up with a name for the ship, too...

Oh, and that one got an exclusive ship (cause I think it's the only fic with it in the fandom): Marquis Vincent de Gramont/Santino D'Antonio, because what's sexier than one little meow meow? Two little meow meows being terrible to each other and the rest of the world. It very secondary, though, the main ship is John/Santino.

Without further ado... a snippet from chapter 2:

Eight years ago, when John wanted to marry Helen, he called Santino for help. The call came in the middle of the night, on Santino’s personal line. John had gone through Julius, the Continental’s Manager in Rome, the only precaution taken for plausible deniability. Hearing his voice had felt like breaking through the deep waters he was drowning in since their break up. Like electroshocks to his heart, a shot of heroin to the brain, a painful rebirth. John had saved him time and time again.  The bargain was clearly in Santino’s favor: An opportunity to get New York back by eliminating his father’s cousin, and a blood oath more binding that any other promise, against help to reunite all of John’s targets in the same place. Their exchange was brief that night, and the following night in New York, too. Professional .  Santino clung to that like a life line as the usual longing he associated with John came bubbling back. The hitman seemed unsettled by the tone of their talk, and Santino wanted to slap him: what did he expect, exactly, when he was asking Santino help to get out of The Arrangement to marry someone else . When he was about to give someone else everything Santino had ever wanted? So he kept it to business even if something was screaming in rage and anguish inside of him the whole time. The marker had been a wicked thing, an offering to try and appease the beast yowling inside of him. A piece of John for Santino to keep forever. A way to possess him, even just a little. - Why did John call him for help and not anyone else? Maybe because he’d known no one loved him enough but Santino to risk so much on his behalf. Which was probably the exact same train of thought that led him to the Villa in Praiano when he needed help to get out again. - Cassian took his job seriously. After a year in Santino’s service, he’d learned to see through the mask and the callous attitude, beyond the sneers and the recklessness, probably helped by the fact he felt it was his mission to keep Gianna’s love for Santino alive. It meant Santino trusted him, even if they bickered half the time they were forced together by their respective jobs. It helped pass the time, in the mob boss opinion. Leonora had learned to ignore them. It also meant that when John appeared on the threshold of the Villa's grounds, Cassian was the first to welcome him. With a shotgun. Santino laughed. “Felt good?” he asked, leaning against the doorway as Cassian reloaded.  “Very. Can I do it again?” Leonora snorted discreetly and Santino eyed John, who was struggling to get back to his feet. His armored suit had done its job and protected him, but it hadn’t lessened the pain of the impact. “Be my guest.”

Read the rest on AO3

[creylune]

i looked at the submitted quotes on that yumejoshi (wanting to date x character) poll for rika and arven and i’m crying (pkmn sv spoilers)

most characters have pretty brief, or medium length quote sections but rika has one user submitted mini essay about how they fell in love with her 😭 it’s long enough in japanese already, roughly translated here’s an excerpt that made me cough/suppress a laugh

“ However, the good time spent with Rika was over quickly, and I thought that once this battle ended, I would have to say goodbye to Rika-chan. However, that prediction was wrong, and after the battle, Rika-chan would watch the rest of my battles with the Elite Four. This made me happy. I was so happy that I took a commemorative photo with Rika after each match. When Rika-chan is alone, she smiles when I approach her, but when the second Elite Four member Poppy-chan joined her, she wouldn't smile even when I approached her. You did it, Game Freak. Rika, I love how you soften your attitude when you're alone. I was so absorbed in filming that I accidentally forgot to heal my Pokemon and started the next battle, but because Rika-chan was watching, I couldn't lose. In the 3rd battle, I started with 3 Pokemon knocked out/dying, but I managed to win by using all my healing items. If Rika-chan hadn't been watching, I think it would have been a waste of items and would have reloaded the battle. Thanks to that, we were able to have a last-minute, unforgettable hot battle. "

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 so distracted you forget to heal your pokemon... honestly i came close to this but thankfully remembered to heal between each battle alksjdkfs (i did also take screenshots every battle...)

AND THEN FOR ARVEN

“I'm glad sv didn't come out when I was in elementary school. I'm sure I would have gone insane. I'm still crazy."

"The scene where he pulls the main character with his hand and supports their waist with both hands as he puts them on Koraidon/Miraidon is sure to make you scream." ⬅⬅⬅ MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ME ME ME ME

exactly what happened:

anyways i’m not well but this poll is so funny and validating seeing how everyone reacted the same to rika and arven aliwjeotajlksjfds

i am normal :)

[writer-of-various]

Dempsey/Lilja – Charming Marine and Beautiful Latvian

1. Der Riese

Lilja wiped the sweat off her brows, grimacing as blood and guts tainted her uniform. She can hear Nikolai mutter something about Vodka, her annoyance levels increasing when the German madman lets out a psychotic giggle. She turns, about to ensue yet another one-sided yelling match with Richtofen when she sees Dempsey shrugging off his blouse and wiping off excessive zombie guts. His muscles tone his arms well, his face shaped by the Greek gods, and his body broad like the Marine he is. Catching herself staring, Lilja scowls and walks towards the American, her ego happy when she sees the flinch he gave when seeing her. For certain she has instilled fear in her male companions, Richtofen averting his eyes, Takeo making sure there was a distance between them, Nikolai keeping his patriotic phrases to himself, and Dempsey becoming a flustered and stuttering mess.

"American, do you have any more ammo for the MP40?" She asks, her poker face hiding the thrill she felt inside her body as Dempsey reserved to a puddle of nerves. He takes out a magazine, handing it to her, and Lilja hums, eyes sharp as she inspects it. "Thank you."

She starts to walk by Dempsey when he clears his throat, getting in step with her as she walks down the corridor. "Y'know, you can call me Dempsey."

Lilja side-eyes him, humming again as she stops, inspecting the Marine with a calculating gaze. Richtofen's voice bounces off the walls and she feels the turmoil of her emotions once more, but Dempsey nudges her with his arm.

"Come on, let's go kill some freak bags." He says, too optimistic about their situation but it provided a distraction. Lilja lets herself replicate the grin the American gave her, reloading her weapon and nodding.

Maybe the American is good company after all.

2. Kino Der Toten

Lilja grunted as she let herself sit down on the right flight of stairs, setting down her ray gun and M16. She runs a hand through her hair, nodding at Dempsey who gestures to the space beside her. They sit in comfortable silence, the buzzing sound of flies searching for food a background noise. Dempsey looks over at Lilja, taking in her appearance and mesmerizing each feature, each little detail. He knew the beating of his heart was wrong, the flutter of wings in his stomach, the thoughts he shouldn't be having. Lilja is undoubtedly beautiful, even when covered in blood and zombie guts.

"I don't trust Richtofen," Lilja speaks, voice dull of emotion and Dempsey frowns. "You know that he knows that, the other two know that. I am stupid to have him drag me along but I can't help but want to know what his mission is. I want to see what's so important for him to have put us in such misery...and then I'll kill him."

Those words shouldn't sound hot, shouldn't make heat travel south but it did and Dempsey felt his face warm in embarrassment. God, he's acting like a teenager all over again.

"May I have a hand in your devious plan?" He asks, teasing and he's surprised he got the usually serious and solemn woman to laugh. Lilja nudges him with her elbow and he's brought back to the action he did in Der Riese. Her smile is bright, mischievous yet angelic, a goddess of trickery that swoons him over with one look of annoyance.

"Of course, I can't leave my partner in crime in the shadows." She says, leaning close and he chuckles. Their eyes meet, ice and sky interlocked in a dangerous dance.

"Hey comrades, have you seen crawler?" Nikolai's voice echos the main lobby, forcing the two to back away. They avert their gazes from each other, grabbing their weapons and standing up.

"No Nik, Takeo was watching it!" Dempsey shouts, both quiet as they hear the Russian groan loudly.

"Agh, I don't want to see Takeo." Nikolai complains, heavy footsteps making the two roll their eyes. They walk off to join their drunken companion, feelings bubbling deep inside– and for the first time in a long time they felt fear. What were these feelings exactly?

3. Moon

Dempsey knows this is the worst time possible to confess his feelings to the woman he's been in love with, but they are on the goddamn moon for heaven's sake! It's a perfect set up! Despite the zombies, and other grotesque creatures, as well as the situation they found themselves in. Fuck it, he isn't sure if they'll survive and he would rather be ridiculed than die without confessing.

He jogs down the hallway, hating the space suit with a passion but he pushes forward, spotting Lilja inspecting the random machines Richtofen hasn't explained yet.

"Lily, I have something to tell you!" He says, catching her attention, a perfect eyebrow raised. She nods, and Dempsey walks closer to her, adoring her natural beauty. He intertwined his right hand with her own, smiling brightly as she grasped onto his. "Lilja, I have–"

"Everyone, come! We have reached the final stage!" Richtofen shouts, and Demspey feels his blood run cold. Lilja looked excited, hands grasping onto her weapon tighter and her face dulls of any emotion. Her poker face, her eyes snuff out like a light, and she's marching away to kill Richtofen. Dempsey follows hastily, unsure if it's an appropriate time now, and keeps quiet.

"What did you want to tell me, Tank?" Lilja asks, her voice soft only for him, it's always been reserved for him.

"I uh, we're still on for killing the doc?" He lies easily, and Lilja for once is oblivious to it. She sends him a smirk, full of mystery and danger and it draws him in closer.

"Of course." She responds, and they meet up with the others. The plan is set, and Dempsey watches as Earth is destroyed, Lilja cursing beside him and when he turns, it's too late. He should have said something.

4. Origins

When Lilja and Dempsey meet again, they are much younger and tougher. The memories keep them alive, Richtofen strings them along and they set the path to secure a better tomorrow. Three giant robots nearly killed them all multiple times, and Dempsey ensures Lilja is safe from the huge feet of said robots.

"Come on doc, hurry it up!" Lilja growls out as Richtofen builds the shields for them, Nikolai welding a bolt from beside them.

"What do we do now?" Dempsey asks, eyes on Lilja, as if she was the leader. She was back then, or in the future...whatever, she guided them and held them together during the last days of their old lives. She kept them motivated, or she kept herself going to finally ensure her own master plan.

"There are a few more parts we need to search for, it's highly advised we have the protection we can get." Richtofen says, so different from his older self. He's composed, or as composed as he can be, but stupidly naive at the same time. He asks questions about the weapons they get from the box all the time, and Dempsey decides to joke about what the LMG stands for. Lilja was amused, holding back her laughter behind a hand as she walked off to console herself. She's as beautiful as ever, eyes bright and icey, a goal set ahead and she was determined to get it done. Until Nikolai unintentionally crushed her spirit, but new goals rose as they listened to Richtofen explain everything, or everything he can explain.

"Alright doc, just get us there," Dempsey says, grabbing himself a shield. He puts it on, the heavyweight a burden on his shoulders, but he holds back the complaints as Lilja puts hers on and shrugs as if it's nothing. It made her even hotter, and Dempsey has half the mind to come out about his feelings. The memories reminded him of their time, of their journey, as if it was only the two of them jumping time and killing meat stacks.

He doesn't catch Lilja looking at him, the ice in her eyes melting the slightest as her own memories taunt her. She should have said something.

5. Blood of the Dead

Their journey has been nothing but difficult, and now they are stuck in some prison in the middle of the ocean, with zombies nonetheless. Tensions grew between them as they face a fate designed for them, and Richtofen has done nothing but curse under his breath and stormed off to the lab. Lilja kept her distance, looking distraught and Dempsey knew it was because of everything that had happened. They're being pulled along by a string and it's putting a strain on them– something that tests their loyalty.

When Nikolai and Takeo leave in search of the box, Dempsey goes to where he last saw Lilja. He finds her quickly, kneeling beside the large crater of lava and staring at it with a dead look in her eyes. Dempsey winces, walking over and kneeling beside her.

"Hey," He says, and she seems to come back to life. She smiles softly at him, and Dempsey feels his breath hitch at how beautiful she is. He thinks he'll get used to it, but the bright light of the lava enhanced her face, her soft features, and her pretty eyes. Perfect, to the eyes of Tank Dempsey.

"Hey." Lilja sits down, and Dempsey copies her, both sitting close enough that their thighs touch. "Has Richtofen quit his bitching?"

Dempsey snorts, "No, he's still in the lab. God, where did we go wrong? Where the hell are we going after this?"

Lilja seems to ponder on this, eyes meeting Dempsey's as she frowns. "I don't know…I don't like that."

Dempsey gently nudges her, hoping his smile is reassuring. "We'll get through it, Lily. I got you."

Lilja smiles, intertwining her hand with Dempsey's, "I got you too."

They let themselves settle in comfortable silence, waiting for the crawler Nikolai and Takeo to kill the crawler and the next hoard to appear.

6. Alpha Omega – The End

Lilja and Dempsey manage to get away from the others, specifically their older counterparts. They make their way to the bunker, going into one of the rooms and sitting down. Lilja sighs, running a hand through her hair as she offers Dempsey a smile.

"Who knew we were so crazy?" She jokes and Dem laughs. "I'm a bit thankful our Richtofen isn't so…crude."

"Yeah, the doc kept making advances to me, and you. And Nik…okay, he flirted with all of us." Dempsey chuckles and Lilja grins. The didn't want the mood to grow solemn, especially after what Nikolai said. Their time is coming, their long journey coming to an end. It's a scary thought when all you've done is fight and survive, and you're about to get permanent rest.

"Tank?" Lilja mumbles, "Were we just blinded by fear? Fear of what awaits us if we ever get to live life, done with all of this shit."

Dempsey turns to look at her, and he realizes now the fear of dying without confessing. To die beside Lilja and never tell her how much he loved her, for so long, she's all that's on his mind. He surges forward and captures Lilja's soft lips. Lilja pressed forward, deepening the kiss and it was the two of them.

They pull away after a minute and smile, breathless at the beauty they hold.

"Lilja, I have loved you for a long time. I have always been so lucky to fight alongside you, to have met you."

"Tank, I have loved you for so long too. I don't know what I'll do without telling you how I feel when we die."

Dempsey brings her close, tucking her smaller body against his, sharing warmth. Their time is coming, and the fear hasn't decreased– but at least they have each other now.

///

When they reunite with the others, Ultimis Lilja and Dempsey notice how close their younger selves are. Their joking hides messages, flirtatious comments hold deeper meanings, and the way they are bound to the hip.

"Can't believe it took us this long to confess." Lilja teases and Tank rolls his eyes playfully. He nudges the woman with his hip, nodding to the younger couple.

"We were hot back then, huh?"

"Jā, we were."

"I love you, Lily."

"I love you more, Tank."

[busterheadspace]

Part 4 Of Traitor Brett

Brett and Ron meet! Yay —-

“You wanted to see me, Sir.” Brett said, stepping inside the Illuminati leader's office. It was a dark black with purple checkers on the wall. A lot of ice statues and gold chains as interior design. It wasn’t very appealing to him

Dietrich was leaning back in his chair until Brett approached his desk. He leaned forward, a smirk on his face.

“Hand, As a company we are very proud of what you did yesterday”

“Just doing my job. It was a hard mission but.. I did it..” Brett replies with a force .

“Yes, indeed. Which reminds me, you were friends with.. special needs girl right?”

“Uh..Sure..?” The last part of his boss’s sentence gave a bad taste in his mouth but he let him talk.

“Yes. From what you’ve told me, her work activity improved immensely after you befriended her. JR always said that girl was such a mess to deal with when she worked with others.” Dietrich laughed and Brett did the same, albeit more nervous.

“Which is why, I’m assigning you to work with Staedtler!”

His arm pointed to the right and Brett saw a man was sitting on a black couch. He wore an open black long sleeve blazer, revealing a white shirt with a purple Illuminati eye tie and black pants with green sneakers. His hair was curly brown and judging by his face and the way thick eyebrows were down, he did not want to be here. Still Brett wanted to make a good impression.

“Brett Hand, at your service!” He held his hand but the man just rolled his eyes. Dietrich glared at the man before continuing

“Staedtler.. here is a little.. troubled. I need you to fix him right up. Can’t have another one of those…incident” The man froze before groaning. He got up and left the room quickly. Brett watched before Dietrich pushed him out as well

“Follow him! Go fix him up!” Before slamming the doors. Staedtler looks at him, with a glare.

This felt familiar to him. His first day, technically after months away, and a rather angry person looking at him annoyed. It almost reminded of him..

He shook his head. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about HER. Brett looked at Staedter with a smile. All the man does is sigh.

“Come on.. you can help me reload the memory guns…”

[strdstd]

"I was perfectly safe where I was!" Lily's freckled cheeks are a bright red after being scooped up and carried out of danger. No she was not safe where she was, but she's STILL going to make a fuss over it. "There was a lot of information I still could've gotten! This is the LAST time I outsource a protective detail to a galaxy ranger." Now that she's gotten that out of her system, she does a long sigh. Big grey hues staring up to him. "…. You don't think they would've actually killed a reporter, right?" Sure she had heard enough about the IPC in regards to covering up information, details, etc. They wouldn't have just straight up killed her if Boothill hadn't hurried along the distractive explosions, right? None of this plan was approved by any of Lily's superiors, but they did leave her in charge anyway. What did they expect? "Well, cowboy. Maybe I still got enough to expose them, if not you know you're going to be taking a severe pay cut…." / let me know if you need any more info. I just had an idea in my head and rolled with it !! :3

Unprompted Asks ★ @luckyybreak ★ Accepting

"Like hell you were!"

Words came out hot like steam from a rushing train, teeth bared in a snarl. A huff escaped as he set her back on her feet, then adjusted his hat as he took one last survey of their surroundings. A tenacious and ruthless follower of the Hunt, he may be, yet even he knew when to cut the line. Thank Lan he retained some of the sense from before, well... best to not linger too much on the past. Still, it was good to know it remained ingrained in him. No matter how loudly the more desperate side of him argued to keep going, which usually meant keep going until he was a smoking and sparking mess of metal.

Especially considering, he actually had someone along for the ride this time. As irritated he might seem at the moment, his gaze would sometimes flit around her, almost as though searching for any signs of injuries. "Some information, no matter how big, ain't worth possibly losin' your dang life over. 'Specially when you're lurkin' 'round the IPC." Voice was a tad rougher, an oddly serious tone audible. A smoky laugh then left him, a snaggletoothed smirk appearing. "Oh, ya really wanna know? What they'd do to a sweet little reporter wantin' to expose 'em?"

He then leaned in closer, visible eye flaring to life as it glowed bright red. "Hunt ya down, offer you hush money to keep want ya got to yourself. And if you post what you got anyway? Hah! You're good as fudgin' dead!" Pulling back, he removed his revolver, beginning to reload it. Once that was done, he opened the chamber on his arm, examining it. "Why do ya think they want me so bad? Believe me, I want 'em gone. Gone, so they won't come back again. I don't care much 'bout money. I wanna see what info you got, though, if you'll be so kind."