#and whatever if you want to blame it all on EA sure but i just dont think that’s true

[butchvamp]

i absolutely understand there was no way to account for every single choice ever made-- that's literally impossible across so many games and so many years and so many changes. i do, however, think that 3 games worth of established lore should be worth something and like.... addressed. there are always going to be things that are retconned over time, i even said previously that i liked some of the changes around the qunari that happened back in inquisition because it felt like a step in the right direction and finally fleshing them out and establishing their culture in a meaningful way. but that's not what's happening in veilguard. they do the opposite. with everyone, the qunari and the elves and the dwarves and even the humans. they get reduced to generic, bland, homogeneous, nonreligious groups that all get along amongst themselves. the dalish elves are either just dead in the background (which to be fair has always been a consistent feature of these games lol) or absorbed into the veil jumpers, who are a huge mix of humans and qunari and elves, etc. kal-sharok gets literally Nothing despite one of the main companion quests taking place there-- there are no dwarven politics like we've seen previously, the kal-sharok aren't even especially isolationist nor do they take any time to explore their proximity to tevinter (and what they did to keep trading with them), or the blight and darkspawn (and how it's changed them and their relationship to orzammar). the qunari are all antaam, just faceless bodies for rook and co to kill because they needed more enemy variety, and what we do see with shathann and taash does not cohere with what we've learned previously about gender in the qun. the chantry is basically nonexistent despite two games setting up this massive conflict between mages and templars, despite veilguard literally revolving around massive revelations of faith… and i know we're in northern thedas so the chantry and templars do function differently, but our only two templars we get a lot of interactions with are "good guys" (and rana specifically can get up on her high horse about it with neve with no option for us to give her the third degree like she's not a fantasy cop whose coworkers are paid off by rich magisters lol) like... these are huge, glaring changes that do not align with a lot of what we've seen in previous games and also have nothing to do with complex branching choices.

[storiumemporium]

Astarion As a Father

Fem!Tav/Reader

I FINALLY GOT A NEW KEYBOARD WITH FULLY FUNCTIONING KEYS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I elected to write about something that's been giving me brainworms for ages, because I'd been talking about it with someone on here awhile ago and it just infested me. Astarion finding out you're pregnant and how he handles fatherhood. (Or, in this case, doesn't at first.) This isn't my best work but I blame it on the fact that I didn't intend for it to be THIS FUCKING LONG okay 😭

But without further ado, daddy Astarion:

Finding out:

When it comes to children, I think Astarion hasn't put much thought into it beyond 'me!? ABSOLUTELY NOT—'

He has no illusions about his state of mind and his faculties, you see. Astarion knows that he's fucked up, he knows that he's a problem, and he's only entirely too confident that any child unfortunately put under his care would likely end up just as damaged as he is, were they to miraculously make it to adulthood. He's just not equipped for it.

And, frankly, Astarion isn't even aware he can have children... That's just, not something he ever thought to question. He's undead, is he not? That should take care of the...fertility question.

Shouldn't it?

Truth be told, Cazador never told him of the possibilities because it was never meant to be a possibility. Astarion was too malnourished, his victims too short lived for anything to ever have come of it. He was supposed to die a sacrifice, not live to carry his own bloodline (hah) onward.

Were you to ever ask him about it, even jokingly over dinner one eve, he'd be very firm in the fact that it's a terrible idea and he'd be entirely unequipped. He would even go so far as to say he's the worst choice out of all of your past companions.

"Me? No. Absolutely not. I'm sure whatever little devil you managed to cook up would be the most charming child Baldur's Gate has ever seen... But even that magical explosive that fancied himself a God would be better suited to fatherhood, darling. I am built for luxury and adventure, nothing else." All bookended by typical Astarion preening.

So when the day comes and you inform him of the little life growing in your womb?

Nope. Not happening, not even a chance of happening.

The denial is strong with this one.

And when I say denial, I mean that Astarion well and truly blots out what you've said from his mind, as if it simply didn't happen at all. You never had the conversation, you never dropped the revelation, there is no child, he is not becoming a father.

It's not a lack of want— though he doesn't realize that yet— it's true, blinding terror. Before it was just a joke, just something for him to brush off with commentary about how terribly he'd do as a parent, better the uncle than anything else. But now it's a reality and to accept what you've said is to accept that he might well and truly destroy a child. But not just any, yours.

The traumas Astarion possesses heap onto his shoulders and slough off plentiful enough to make new oceans of it. Now, not only is he just beginning to regain his own autonomy, he's supposedly being given responsibility over a brand new life?

(It would only make sense for Astarion in retrospect, that the life you willingly sacrificed to nourish and nurture him would in turn allow him to grow a new life within you. The fool had just been too blind to consider it: The way, fresh off your blood, he could pull back from the delicate column of your throat and you would find his cheeks and ears and chest flushed with the loveliest shade of pink, eyes wide and soft and alive. The way his entire body would warm, going from corpse frigid to something just beneath normal. The way his once-still heart would slowly beat again.

He'd even asked you once- curled together on a familiar silken bed, foreheads touching and your hands clasped together between your chests- if you knew what it felt like to be so, so hungry that all you could even think about was about badly you wanted to eat? How food sounded so good that the desire became crossed and instead felt even more painful and nauseating? How it consumed your ability to make rational decisions, denied you the capacity to control your emotions?

He'd told you then, voice tender and timid and weak, that he'd felt like that every single day for two whole centuries, until the night you'd willingly laid down on that cot and put your life in his hands.

It was so simple really, of course you granted him the strength to create life. It was you.)

And of course it comes to a head before there is any chance at recovery. Your body begins to show the changes, you begin to swell, and Astarion only grows more avoidant and flighty. Because now he can't simply wipe the idea from his mind and continue on as if the child doesn't exist, the proof is there every single time he looks at you. He makes it very clear to you that he will not be returning to your side without a confrontation, a very potentially ugly one at that.

And ugly it is, explosive. Astarion hasn't truly had the time to recover from his life under Cazador, and all of those protective traits he grew remain sharp as ever, returning to the surface as if they'd never truly gone away to begin with. He sneers and hisses, tries his best to dig in and hurt you enough to stop poking his tender wounds. Enough to push you away so he can lick his wounds back open. He'll go so far as to accuse you of infidelity, though he regrets the words the moment they leave his lips, it's easier for him to imagine that you simply grew tired of him, that you were weary and longed for the daylight. That you wanted someone who could hold you beneath the sun, unlike him.

How you respond to this is entirely up to you, but just shy of throwing something truly despicable back into his face, such as Cazador, Astarion will apologize... eventually. If you remain stalwart and patient, if you have it in you to recognize that he doesn't mean his words, that he's barbing you with intent, Astarion will break down in that very same argument, his angry and accusatory rant will dissolve into an admission of deep insecurity and deeper terror.

But if you respond with anger? Justifiable, and Astarion knows that even in the moment as it's happening, but emotions rule him far more than he'd ever care to admit, and he will dig in and relish the reaction he's managed to draw from you. He will bristle and bite back until suspicion and bitterness fully claims his heart, and he aborts the conversation to hide in the shadows.

Astarion will wait until nightfall, until his freedom calls for him. The one thing that always manages to clear his head, even when you prove to be the cause of his muddying. It's a reminder, every time he steps into the cool and dark of Baldur's Gate, that Cazador is dead and he is a free man. That he can go where he chooses and when he chooses to, and not only that no one can stop him, but that you wouldn't even want to stop him.

And that truth is always what brings Astarion home.

Under the distant lonely stars and that cold moon, he has to remember that time and again you have let him. You have accepted him, you have not fought him on anything shy of a horrible mistake he wanted to make in a moment of weakness and hysteria. You have accepted all his deepest and ugliest wounds and kissed them like they were freckles to pour affection on. You fought Cazador for him, you defended him from your own friends. You even- at times- tested your own morals for him.

You wouldn't betray him, and Astarion knows he can't betray you.

Astarion would return to you late, curling into bed at your side, his eyes would not meet you, and his apology would come in the form of a simple confession. "I am... afraid. I am afraid."

Astarion wouldn't blame you if you don't forgive him immediately for his transgressions, he was cruel and you were vulnerable. But even then you'll find that your love doesn't abandon you again. He accepts- however frightened- that what you've said is true and is coming, and he must accept it. Mind you, it won't be perfect and it won't be romantic. Astarion doesn't know the intricacies of handling a pregnant woman, he's hardly tactful beyond his well honed and flirtatious lines. He genuinely loves you, but he's going to come pre-equipped as father material.

You need something? He'll get it with minimal complaint (but never none, you'd sooner get him to dye his hair black than cease complaining for the sake of it), he won't begrudge you your mood swings though he might be inclined to poke fun at you ever so often. And he will panic when you burst into tears for seemingly no reason, and no- time doesn't make him adjust, he will panic just as much the thousandth time as the first.

However, if it's any consolation. The moment your child enters the world, Astarion is a changed man.

When You Go Into Labor:

Astarion did the honors of informing all of your friends about your pregnancy, once he came to terms with it. And believe me when I say it is extravagant. The stationery and grandiose script that Astarion wields when informing everyone that you were expecting better fits a wedding invitation than it does... well. Very elegantly explaining that Astarion had accidentally knocked you up.

You can tell from the splotchy stains addressed to you from Wyll and Karlach that one of them had been crying when penning the message, Astarion has coin on Wyll, and you on Karlach. Lae'zel never responds to begin with and you know for a fact the Githyanki's response will likely come in the form of her simply showing up one of these days, unprompted. Jaheira personally and rather frequently visits as well, she becomes a sort of bastion as nerves take you over, confident and calm as she is. Halsin's "letter" arrives late, rather because alongside his letter is several little carved animals for the child's room, and mentions of a quilt he intends to bring along when next he visits. Shadowheart's letter, while congratulatory, contains an air of interrogation strung all about it, all aimed with pinpoint precision at the man responsible for your pregnancy and dripping with sarcasm.

Gale's letter is seven pages long, comes with a violet hued wax stamp, and multiple different inks in the most lavish hand he can manage. You daresay he's competing with Astarion. However, surprisingly, Gale's seems to be the most... helpful of them all? It wasn't your intent, you simply wanted your dear friend to join you in celebration, and yet Gale goes on to inform you that upon reading the letter he'd become a madman in pursuit of knowledge on pregnancy and giving birth. He admits that this wasn't a particularly fruitful endeavor, as he's rather confident that you're not a gnoll, troll, cambion, succubus, or any other variety of strange creature with strange metrics of procreation. Still, Gale directs the latter portion of his letter to Astarion quite pointedly, informing him of bookshops around Baldur's Gate where he might have more success.

Astarion scoffs, but you don't miss the way his fingers twitch and flex.

After the hilarity of this is resolved and you just begin to believe that peace might return to your soft little home in the city, the first of your companions begin to arrive.

This continues on for the next week or so, without you ever knowing that this had been planned- and without knowing that Astarion had been the one to plan it. It's a furthering of his apology, of his guilt over the way he'd treated you. Again, Astarion has no illusions of the kind of man he is, and the fact he's not nurturing in the sort of ways that you need- but he's not completely stupid and he knows you're scared. So... bring the cavalry, darling.

Eventually your entire home has become a crash pad for all of your dearest friends, your family, and you only grow suspicious of Astarion's hand in this chaos because he's surprisingly amicable to having his peace so thoroughly disturbed by 'everyone and their mother'. Truly, he manages to bite his tongue some of the time about them trampling his fine rugs and scratching the plates. He even seems... wistful about it. As nostalgic as you openly are at seeing all of these beloved people under one roof again.

Nights are filled with raucous laughter, clattering utensils, a table so thoroughly overcrowded that people are playfully shouldering each other out of the way for a chance to get at their own food. And Astarion stays faithful at your side, his hand perpetually clasped gently around yours, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. Days are never spent alone, no matter what it is you need to do, someone (if not everyone) is following you along. And though Astarion feels his heart ache that he can't join you, he'll be glad to know you're safe.

Besides, your companions are likely all taking turns tormenting, testing, and relentlessly teasing him about what is to come. He has his own hands full. He's starting to regret being such a generous lover.

And then your water breaks in the dead of night.

Remember how I said Astarion was far from perfect? This would be one of those moments that it really shines.

Not that he's particularly terrible, no. He's not actively cruel toward you, and certainly not dismissive, it's somewhat the opposite. Halsin and Jaheira end up the ones helping you, the only two with some iota of understanding on what was happening and what to do with and for you. The others, less experienced in "mundane" medical situations will take up the second most important role.

Prevent Astarion from catastrophizing any more than he already has been.

Karlach has been the sole force capable of keeping Astarion away from the wine, typically bear hugging him away from your cellar while Wyll tries his best to talk your lover down from a total nervous breakdown. Of which he nearly has, several times. It's not even the sight of you, specifically. He's okay with being at your side and holding your hand, in trying his best to provide comforting words that aren't laced with sarcasm for once. But the sounds you make, that's what breaks him. Astarion isn't good at hearing you scream from the pain, he isn't good at the choked sobs or your heavy breaths. The way you sound like you're struggling against death. It makes him want to crawl out of his own skin, fight assailants that aren't there.

And for a few hours there, in the midst of your labors and your exhausted, pained little cries, Astarion isn't sure how he can love the child causing you this much suffering. It's not as if Astarion was an altruistic man on his best days, as if he were particularly reasonable when it came to you. You've both come to a mutual understanding that were something to happen to you, no morals would be involved in the things Astarion would do to rectify it.

And now, here you are, suffering. Astarion isn't supposed to do a thing about it? He's supposed to be- what, overjoyed by it? It infuriates him, he's truly prepared to have a grudge match with an infant.

Until, as the sun is starting to creep up on a brand new day, it's no longer your screams that meet the air, but another's entirely. Tiny but powerful, high pitched little squeals of fury and distress. And your laughter, disbelieving, soft, adoring already.

Astarion has a daughter.

I go with the HC that Astarion had eyes like honey once, and that his daughter takes after that, along with the delicate points of his ears mirrored in her own. She's small, so small, but healthy and already feisty, wiggling as best as her tiny body can whilst still too heavy for her to lift and move.

You're the first to hold her of course, and Astarion will be at his knees beside the two of you. The expression he wears is something you've seen maybe two or three other times in the entire time you've known him- moments when you know he expected everything to fall apart, moments where he couldn't believe that the world was so good.

It's then that you can breathe for the first time, and know that both of your darlings will be just fine.

Once he does hold her, he's not inclined to let her go. Even once you ask to have her back, he'll simply move you into his lap, so that he can hold you both. It's better that way anyhow, having both of his girls in his arms. And Astarion will repeat again and again how stunned he is, he just can't believe it. Cannot fathom any of it. I think he's the type to say that he's speechless and then spend the next five minutes doing nothing but talking. It's nervous rambling, but still, speechless is not the term I would use to describe him here.

Astarion With Your Baby:

Once your little darling is actually in your lives, you get to see how hilariously unorthodox Astarion is with children. Especially his own. Astarion doesn't baby-talk like you or the rest of your companions, he speaks in the same exact tones as he would a grown woman. In fact, for the first few days you're adjusting to a child in your life, you sometimes mistake Astarion as speaking with an unexpected guest, only to round the corner and find him lightheartedly chastising his own daughter for her poor nappy conduct as he wrinkles his nose and changes her diaper.

He's disgusted by that, by the way. Absolutely hates it, complains loudly about having to do it. But if you so much as try to stand to help he'll force you back down onto your chair or the couch, something something not useless something something already up, darling. It's as if Astarion is simply allergic to admitting that while it makes him nauseous, he wants to care for his daughter. He wants you to rest.

And yes, Astarion is the type of father that thinks all other children are hideous little fecal beasts and his daughter is the only gorgeous little angel in the entire world. Perfect, can do no wrong. He tells her as such too, in the same deadpan voice he always uses, wiggling and stretching her legs.

"You know, darling. You should count your blessings, you're the only child I've ever seen that doesn't look like some sort of hideous, deformed bean. I can't be surprised though, with as gorgeous as your parents are." And though he rolls his eyes, he's unable to contain the grin that shows his teeth when she coos and squeaks at the sound of his voice.

And yes. Astarion dresses up with his child.

The older she gets the more he does it, little matching outfits and ribbons. Nothing that she would choke on, were she to get her mitts on it. (You had to be the one to tell him no, at first. He did throw a little fit about it, just a small one).

But it's not all lighthearted, good or bad.

There are times where Astarion won't touch your daughter, won't be alone with her in the same room. He fears it, he'll eventually tell you. His... affliction came with it's dangers, always. But he's always trusted that you could defend yourself, and you're big enough that he can't just kill you between one blink and the next. The same can't be said of your darling girl. She's so small and so fragile that, were he to lose even the slightest grip of himself around her, it could cost her her life. No doubt it would traumatize her for life, regardless.

You watch it, too. The way it pinches his brows and makes him wipe his palms against his pants as if he were sweating. Nervous habits creeping up his throat and causing him to pace about like a caged animal. It's during these times that you have to bring your daughter to him. Gently place her in his arms and remind him that he's loved her from the moment he saw her. And where once he held trepidation and queasiness at the prospect of fatherhood, you can see him care so much about this little bundle that he looks sick from it. A vulnerability he can't mask.

And of course, there are times he nearly weeps for other reasons.

Like when she takes her first steps, and immediately tries to run for him.

And Astarion knows he should let her tumble, that it's good to let her fall and get back up again, but the moment her unsteady feet cause her to careen she's safe in his arms. Little kisses peppered against her giggly face. And he'll tuck away against her to try and get his bearings back, but she'll pat his cheeks and tug his ears- and you'll have to distract her with a toy while he hiccups and sniffles down his need to cry. He wasn't ready for her to grow so fast, gone is the tiny bundle that could fit perfectly in one arm, now she's walking. How long before she's dating? Gods, should he be preparing for betrothal requests!?

"I want to be mortal." He whispers to you, one night. She's tucked between your bodies, sound asleep and wiggling from time to time. This is one of the rare moments you and your love can speak to each other uninterrupted, in the tranquility of the dark hugging around you.

It's strange that he brings this up now, you'd spoken about it several times since the Elder Brain had been taken down... But in the past few years since your daughter had been born, all of that had fallen to the wayside. "What brings this to mind, Starling?"

Your hand comes to cup his throat, as you watch and feel him work as if he were swallowing a stone. "I don't want to outlive this."

It's hard to blink the tears from your eyes, understanding the implications.

Were he actually two hundred years old, Astarion wouldn't survive well past the existence of his sweet little family.

He'd been more melancholy the past few weeks, after realizing that your daughter was beginning to function on her own. She was walking, grabbing things, talking in rudimentary sentences. She was even beginning to call him pa.

He'd cried, at that.

"I'll forget," his voice draws you out from that brief reverie. The distress is palpable, but runs low like the tide before a storm. "I'll forget all of this. I don't want to know what I'll become, then."

And when you run your hands up into his hair, to scratch lovingly along his scalp, he doesn't hide the shiver or the way his face presses against your palm, cold and smooth on your skin.

"We'll find a way, Astarion. I haven't given up yet... We just- she's too young."

It's both a strain and a relief, to know that. To be reminded that your daughter is still so small, that he won't be losing her- or you- any time soon. There's still time.

Astarion With Your Teen:

Arguably this is the best time between your daughter and him. It's simultaneously a surprise and yet- not at all? He's more like her confidante and best friend than strictly a father. He isn't one for harsh curfews and strict ways of dress- rather, he's the one she comes to when she's made some sort of mistake. Or when she's angry about something.

In general, Astarion withholds judgement of her, for better or worse. The unintended consequence is that you might become more of her enemy than Astarion, because he's less inclined to punish for questionable behaviors.

It's not that he's afraid of angering her or dealing with push back- rather that Astarion's frame of reference for what constitutes a mistake is ah... rather broken. Even in the beginnings of your relationship with Astarion, the mistakes that would anger him constituted dropping an entire building on his head or... risking being turned into a Mindflayer to help some old lady find her cat.

Not feeling up cute boys in alleyways.

As a result you'll likely need to have a few conversations with him about not being so lenient on her, because she needs to have structure in how to behave. Stealing things is in fact, not okay! And Astarion will listen, but he's always going to be a bit more of a friend than anything else.

A total gossip with her, too. You'll catch them huddled around the dinner table at night, both with a glass of wine (this was an argument that Astarion ended up winning, she's allowed one glass a week, but that's all!) in hand shittalking a storm together. Astarion has become the Baldur's Gate equivalent of a PTA mom, he shows up as stylishly as he can and beefs with the parents of whichever children have upset his daughter the most. And then when they get home they just toss it back and forth together.

But I want to stress, just because he doesn't punish her doesn't mean he isn't protective of her. Astarion is more protective than you are.

Once she begins dating you'll find yourself home alone semi-frequently, because Astarion will play the supportive, loving father part when she leaves- and immediately follow her out into the dark. He's had centuries to know what dangers lurk around every corner, and foggy memories of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time before his nightmare began. He won't allow that to happen with his girl.

And it's funny, because Astarion will talk mad shit to himself while he does it. Logically he knows that she's with some teenage boy or girl, but it doesn't stop the petty, emotional side of him from rolling his eyes and sneering at the cheap one-liners and the dumb tactics that this would-be charmer utilizes. Really, taking her into dark alleys to get her to tuck into you? Going to a totally secret spot that Astarion has known about for at least a hundred and sixty years? Get real, kid.

And you have to try valiantly not to laugh when he comes home, huffing and puffing about it. Because you will hear every single petty thought he had the entire time, and you will know that he looks like a petulant child. It's very cute.

All in all, I think Astarion is a reckless, chaotic, petty father. And one that loves his child so, so much. To the point of ruin, to the point where suddenly staying in one place doesn't seem so bad, just so she can have friends. Helping people isn't the worst, just so she can know there are heroes in the world. Suddenly he's learning to bandage scrapes and kiss bruises, and having tears and snot on his clothes mean nothing compared to the grief of the one shedding them. He loves her in ways he didn't anticipate he ever could. Enough to know all of her ticks and secrets, to know when she's lying through her teeth and when she's being devastatingly obvious.

Learning to cook even when he can't eat, listening to her spin a story with a straight face and then- as she's stepping out the door- telling her to be careful with that boy and listening to her groan loudly as the door slams shut, a mischievous smile on his face.

Holding you and dancing you around, cradling you close with all the tenderness he has in the whole of his body and soul. Kissing you, calling you the mother of his child, thanking you for giving him something he didn't even know he'd wanted. A family.

Small and odd, but his.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

part iii (part i + part ii)

(due to sims doing everything but what i wanted them to, this extended into night and the screencaps were terrible - i apologise)

“Avery, I feel like our potential isn’t necessarily reflected by your score, and much of that was my doing. You just seemed to catch me when I was in the middle of a Moment and was not exactly feeling receptive towards anyone. And among those who did… less well, you were one of the few who actually initiated flirting with me and who seemed to really try. So let’s take this as an opportunity to refresh and maybe have a second shot at things. I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

“Jayla, you’re clearly having a ball and I enjoyed being in a household with you. But so far you haven’t seemed all that drawn to me, and I feel that at least in terms of romance, I’m the one putting in all the work. You are one of eighteen, and it seems like you’re not sure why you’re here. Let me know whether you want this - or not - but let me know. See you for Round Two.”

the final four...

“You know how it goes. I have only one of my strawberries left, and I am not splitting it four - just who the plum comes up with these things…”

“Forest - considering your strong start, this is a long way to fall. We have potential and you’ve shown hints of sweetness, but you keep on pushing me away - and your autonomous mean interactions? Not okay. It wasn’t cute when boys did that in grade school, and it’s far from cute now. If your aim is to sabotage yourself, then you’re succeeding spectacularly.” (Forest: nervously sweating...)

“Lee - much like Forest, yet worse. While I get the sense that Forest has the potential - and maybe even the want - to be something better than his past behaviour, you on the other hand seem perfectly happy with just how you present yourself. Well, I’m not. I like the version of you who is friends with Tiago and who has some moments of vulnerability, not whatever this is.” (Lee: unbothered, totally convinced this is all a ruse...)

(Araminta: hoping to the old Watchers and the new that Forest is going home...)

“Piper - if only we had even a little romance, my dear. But at least with me - or perhaps even with life in general - that just doesn’t seem to be what you’re looking for, and that’s okay. You stepped out of your comfort zone to try something that doesn’t come naturally to you, and for that you’ll have my eternal admiration. But I��m afraid that this chapter of your story ends here.”

“Aubrey - you’re here for a good time, but sadly not a long time. One of the most gorgeous sims I’ve ever laid eyes upon, and I really enjoyed your sense of fun, your mischief and your creativity. As there’s no spark between us, however, let’s just say it’s been real and move on. You were a delight to get to know - I hope we can catch up again after the show.”

“Forest, something is telling me not to let you go just yet. And if I’m wrong, then more fool me. This is a second chance for… whatever you need it to be, I guess. Those don’t come around often, or at all. Make the most of it. And if there’s any more mean behaviour - I may no longer be a werewolf but I’m not completely without bite. Man up and grow up, or get out.”

“Lee, here’s your fifteen minutes. Best of luck in building on them. And as the autonomy settings are driving the Watcher crazy - Araminta, you absolutely don’t need to talk to your horse Every Five Seconds - we’ll say our proper farewells tomorrow.  Sorry for the lack of decent screencaps, everyone, but you only have your pixel selves to blame.”

“Hey beautiful, so I totally know this is all a stunt. You have to leave the audience on a cliffhanger, right? Don’t worry, I’ll play along. I am a supremely talented actor after all - I can even cry on command!” “Mhmm…” (reflects on how that’s only a Level 2 interaction in the ACTING skill)

how scores were calculated

Ooof, I really wanted to take more of the bottom three in particular, but I was also this close to ejecting my EA folder into the sun. They will however each get a proper farewell from Lilac (and a thank you from me to their watchers) and their very own shiny post in broad daylight when hopefully the in-game lighting is better cooperating.

Also now we know just what Forest was up to that very last day. That little so-and-so realised that he was on thin ice and thus was skillbuilding like there was no tomorrow - which for him was almost the case! I will be including Aubrey's, Piper's and Lee's score details in their farewell posts and you will see just how close it all was.

@x-digitaldollhouse-x @tipsy-clouds @riverofjazzsims

@plasmafruittree @sleepyselkiesims @fl0pera

[toffeebrews]

Any errink headcanons? :D

Tumblr hates me so I had to rewrite this, anyway... [Note: all my hcs ofc nothing is canon but some may be based of canon information! Sometimes I may refer to non-canon past rps :P]

Error and ink do dumb rps with his puppets together, they've made a super dramatic soap opera plot.

I think Ink realizes Error would never change and he's content with that (sigh as much as I would love to say he would).

Ink finds error's six tongues fascinating, rather than gross. In a similar way, error is fascinated by ink's star eyes (I wonder what that hc came from).

If they ever kissed it would be the most disgusting revoltingly thing ever because error doesn't know how to kiss at all and he also has 6 tongues.

If you asked them how they became friends they would just look at you and shrug. Not even they know how to happened. All they can say is they "get eachother." Error deep down has always wanted a friend and Ink gives him that. Ink is willing to deal with error's bs and error is willing to deal with ink's. Ink can feel a little lonely in his own role and among a world that is fake and Error being an outcode like hin understands him a way others wouldn't. Not even mentioning their story parallels but I gotta stop my self before I start rambling. They're some of the only people who know some of other's deep insecurities.

Ink found Error's crashes funny before he knew how absolutely painful they were. Although not sure if he would ever trigger them on purpose even before he knew ngl.

more yapping under the cut

I would define them as whatever happens when you cross a friend an enemy and a partner.

Ink loves all of his shipkids and error... feels very conflicted about all of them.

They also think the other is a freaky than them when in reality they're both freaks.

Error still thinks about when Ink proposed to him at loveball, ink doesn't think about it at all. Ink also proposed to him with a ring pop that he found in the candy bowl in my head LOL.

Ink doesn't mention his dads to him .. maybe out of fear

Other people still make fun of Ink for proposing to error at loveball and ink always goes "IT WAS ONE TIME!"

Error and Ink are both quite short, Error is only a few inches taller than Ink.

Due to loveball, Error is always scared (in a playful way) when Ink starts drinking.

Error does feel guilty for the time he left ink in the antivoid. Not all of the time, but at times when hes sitting with Ink in the anti-void he can't help but reflect on it. If he would ever admit it? Probably not.

Error and ink's dancing at loveball was a beautiful disaster. Ink is actually an okay dancer but because Error was really nervous it threw him off and it was so off beat. It was really cute though, regardless.

Ink finds errorink ship art very amusing and he shows it to error just to freak him out sometimes.

Error always kills ink first in among us. Error also always blames ink as the imposter even if he isn't.

They have a "close but not too close" rule just close enough to feel the warmth of the other person but not enough to touch. (do skeletons give off warmth?). They do hold pinkies though fr fr. Also Error does lay his head in Ink's lap sometimes, typically when they're watching something. Ink may also give Error forehead or hand kisses.

I like to think Error runs quite hot, because he crashes all the time, so hes warm like a computer LOL. Ink who in my hc has a lessen sense of touch and runs sorta cold due to be soulless lovess sitting around him because of it.

Crack headcanon, when error's eyes glitch up or hes about to crash if you really listen you can hear the sound of computer fans going ham.

Ink will often just... walk up to error and put him a different outfit. Something about his being "too basic" and "his outfit has an ugly color palette".

If you know my pinkie sense ink hc Error doesn't know HOW it works but he fully believes him every single time. Even when ink is trolling, LOL!

Error and Ink call eachother "Ruru" and "Kiki" but only to annoy the other. Specifically if ink is pleading for something he'll do it to annoy him "please ruru :(" They also call eachother glitch and squid in a movking as well LOL.

They have friendship rings? platonic rings? idk if those are a thing made from blue string.

In my own error design, he has a big tooth. Because of it ink calls him a "big kitty" to make fun of him.

[kanmom51]

Just one of those Mondays where you have a shit ton of stuff to do but you take the time to watch a Jikook reaction video

So, here's the thing. I don't usually do reaction videos. I have so much original content to go through I just don't get the time. Not to mention the constant walking on egg shells when it comes to talking about JM and JK and what the hell it is that goes on between them.

Sadly those that dared open their mouths were bullied to either stop talking about them or left YT all together, which is just utter crap.

In any case, @ffjj5 told me today that DT Parker, who's reaction to JK's last live I posted in my JK 28 July live post uploaded a Jikook reaction, doing this after he had watched that JK live. It peeked my interest and I went to see, because again, as much as I loved his reaction to JK's live, it felt like he was holding back.

So here you have me now writing a post about DT Parker's latest Jikook reaction, cause what can I say? It was entertaining, lol.

So thank you so much @ffjj5 💜💜

Let's start with his opening, why don't we?

He just goes for it right off the bat. "I'm a grown ass man and I will watch whatever I want to watch, and I want to watch this". He got the feels after JK's live. I mean, how can't you? And he knew that there will be those coming for him, because how dare he watch Jikook content? And it's not only TKKs though. He was addressing those asshole army holier than thou that he knew would be coming for him for "feeding the shippers". Pre-emptive strike is what he did. "You don't like it, here's the door fuckers" (well, those were my words, but his were pretty close, lol).

I'm not going to go through the full video, because you can all watch it. But only the highlights. Well the moments I found stuck out.

And the first one is, but of course, hickey-gate.

It starts out with "oh, that's a big bite mark" and pretty quickly went to "hey, that doesn't look like teeth marks...wink wink". Lmao. Priceless.

Oh, and this: "and I love Jin's face. Not buying it". So, he's telling us that either he, DT, isn't buying the bite story or it's Jin that isn't buying into that story. Either way he's saying that the bite story is ehm.. sus and it ain't no actual bite. Good for you DT. Good for you.

The silence, but definitely facial expressions, while watching RB. I don't blame him for not saying a word, lol.

But then he goes: "yeah, they are really touchy feely",

Followed by: "extremely touchy feely... and the crazy thing is it doesn't look like a big deal to them...at all".

That's one way of putting it. And he knows it, lol.

And then he backtracks, like A LOT. The reason they are like that, the reason JM is more affectionate towards JK is because JK is most receptive to it. LOL. That's one way of saying that JK loves JM and JM loves JK. "JK will give it right back". What he isn't saying is that if JK is as receptive and giving, how come it's only between the two of them?

And the words, the explanations, they are coming out of his mouth, but his facial expressions, yeah, they are telling a different story, lol.

DT: "they can have a whole video on just ass...just ass play" - they sure can. Nailed it DT. "Ass play"... Lol.

And after saying that, once again he pulls back. "It's being playful is all it is".

Seeing this is actually hilarious. His mental gymnastics to explain it off, lol.

"I think JM sees JK like his pet". Well, JM did say it himself. His toy too.

Oh, and then he says: "and vise versa"...ok. Gotcha. LMAO.

Again, all those words coming out of his mouth, and then we have the facial expressions...

See, right here, he's silent, lol.

Or...

Like, there are things you just cannot explain away...

He ends it with his 'analysis', lol. Ok then, JM is touchy feely and brings out the touchy feely in them all. But more so in Hobi and JK, and the most in JK. Good way of putting that one...

Obviously he 'forgot' by the end of the clip about the hickey or the ear sucking, cause man, those you just cannot write off as simply being touchy feely or reciprocity (a word he loves to use). So, I guess it's easier to put those aside, ignore them and go down the "affectionate" path.

End of the day, his explanation as to why Jikook are the MOST is cause JK gives it back to JM the most. Yeah DT, it's called being boyfriends.

Look, obviously he won't say "they are a couple" out loud. Even if he has made that mental leap and thinks it, he won't say it. But what he does say is ever so many words is that they have a special bond. That there is something special between the two. And that is something that so many army are unwilling to say out loud. EVERYONE can see it. It's just them being either total wusses for not willing to admit to it, or homophobic shitters that are unwilling to admit to it. Either or. Take your pick.

All in all it was an enjoyable watch.

[thedawningofthehour]

This may be strange question, but how are Aprils parent dealing with everything going on? How much do they understand what Donnie means to April and how do they still feel about it all?

Guys, there are no strange questions! We're all weirdos here. Embrace it. Love it.

April's parents know the whole scoop by now. At first I just had her tell them because I realized that April was going to be heavily present and it was either constantly reference the various excuses she uses to keep them out of her hair or just make it look like they ignore the shit out of her, and I didn't care for either of those vibes.

I think of April more as a latchkey kid than truly neglected-I mean, yeah, her parents leave her alone a lot, but they've also raised her to handle that responsibly and will absolutely drop everything for her if she needs it. They just work a lot. They knew that April had a group of friends she was very close to that they couldn't meet for whatever reason. And like...they were suspicious, but they also wanted to trust her. (Some people have commented that without context it really looks like Splinter is running a cult, with his color-coded children who don't go to school and aren't vaccinated and shit, and goddamn they are right)

Keep in mind, the story starts mid-March and Mystic Mayhem happened in like late summer/early fall the year before, so there have been mutations happening all over the place for at least six months by the time April tells her parents that the reason they haven't met her friends is because they're mutants. And they're like, "oh thank god." That was the most harmless explanation they could think of. (they didn't actually think that April was in a gang, but like...there's only so many explanations that fit) Also they're New Yorkers. So April tells them that there's a magical city underneath New York and they're just like, "yeah, that makes a lot of sense."

I can't remember how much of this actually made it into the story and how much I cut, but hearing what April had been doing actually really freaked them out. They're proud of her, of course, and they have faith in her capabilities, but they had no idea. I mean, their daughter has a crane license. They didn't know she could do that. It really made them reevaluate their priorities. That's part of the reason why Carol started working on the mutant town up at Todd's-she realized that she was giving so much of her life to her job and it just wasn't worth it. She feels awful for what the Hamatos had to go through due to their mutations and she feels way better spending her time making sure other mutants don't have to go through that.

As far as the boys go-they fucking love them. I wasn't joking when I said that they're socializing parenting. Splinter told them that he's always wanted a daughter and kind of considered April a bonus child, and they were like, "fuck you, we get bonus kids out of the deal too." The boys really activate that Parental Instinct deep inside them, especially after hearing how isolated and neglected they were. (they really don't blame Splinter for this-like, they had one baby and there were two of them, along with extended family/daycare/etc and that shit was still hard. They understand what an absolutely impossible task Splinter had been handed. Frankly, they're impressed that all four of them are alive) It also helps that Mikey was the first one they met, so they were instantly charmed. April's their priority, but they do genuinely love the boys.

And they haven't met Donnie, but they know that he and April were the closest, they've heard so much about him and seen the things he's built. They already love him and want to meet him so badly. I also wasn't going to confirm that her dad worked at the same research center where Donnie hatched, but I have thought about her dad getting all Emotional about it (it was a bad year and very few of the hatchlings survived-everyone was sad when the one guy they were all rooting for was seemingly eaten by a hawk or something) and showing Splinter Donnie's baby pictures and shit. Splinter would probably cry. Donnie would be so fucking done.

All in all, April's parents are like 90% of this fic where I didn't plan for anything to be A Thing and a narrative just grew when I wasn't looking.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Spoilers

What an end. From the start to finish it felt like a fever dream. It was like being hugged but getting tighter until you feel suffocation then slowly eases off. That's what I felt like reading it haha. Despite everything, those moments with gyu and oc were cute. "I want to give you something more meaningful to cheer you up." He always has but seeing his end was in a way, her saving tyun. As much as it pained her she's glad someone innocent didn't get killed.

Even if she was still present her life would still feel like hell. People already disliked her and life would be harder. A part of me knew she would have to kill him but at the same time I thought she wouldn't be able too. Seeing the hate she kept getting, her position seen as just a whore, watching Kai'd state, the nightmares.. just became overwhelming feeling like hell already. And she was pregnant too :( I felt bad. That took huge guts to do, but then her also getting hit was such a gyu thing to do. I remember saying before he would also be selfish in death and he really was. He made sure they both had the same end.

With everything happening she still finds comfort only in gyu the only one who she thinks gets her well. I still felt hurt because as much as oc is an issue too, she didn't no any better. She always had gyu on her side since young, grew with him, loved him. He moulded her the way she is. Even if she was to realise its still to late the damage has already been done and its been done since her upbringing. That's all she knew her whole life to be loved like this. Sometimes I wonder how different her life would be if she first came across Tyun and wonder if he would ever show his love fully. Makes me think of the scene of him seeing her for the first time as kids, wonder if she kept seeing and playing with him, falling in love eventually in a healthy way. I know gyu wouldn't have allowed that but just thoughts. her life would be different if gyu never poisoned her mind in the first place.

The dream scene was so good. I liked how Tyun expressed himself through this atleast bc after all she ruined his life. He has a right to feel angry and upset. He's so hot when hed possessive so this scene really gave justice eventho in reality he's cold but whatever 😭 its still nice to see. The anger was too good and real mean. Loved the switch up near the end when his face changed completely looking bruised up and saying she killed him. That's the sight she would have for the rest of her life if it happened. I liked how the necklace he put on was yet another way of indicating she's a reason for this. Since he always said she left him for these flashy things, materials. Maybe a sign of his anger too. She couldn't have lived with guilt like this. It was slow but brutal for her to go through and do what was right.

As much as i hate gyu, I still felt bad when he got stabbed. He's insane for trying to comfort her despite that but then shocks everyone when he does the same back to her. Then again that's how he always was. No matter what, he showed his love to her which was always selfish. He was devoted for his means at all times even the end. When he said "I'd get it right in the next life" I thought damn give oc a break already 😂 she's too tired of this shit!

"I can't even win against his corpse?" I dont blame him to feel annoyed but at the same time oc did save him. She doesn't know how its like to exist without Gyu's love its all she knew. A part of me thought Tyun would say something but ofc he didn't. I felt bad for her bc she always just wanted to be loved:(  just goes to show how he would never say his feelings. Ofc she would go to Gyu because he's always shown her, something tyun could never do.

The scene where oc sings for him a lullaby for him to fall asleep, even til the end she stayed stuck with him coddled just like that, both sleeping together forever.

But damn. What a story. Phenomenal writer, storyline was so intriguing and I loved how you wrote each characters in their ways. You showed the toxicity perfectly, how selfish one could get. It was a huge battle but I can't believe its the end 💔 I honestly cried at the last parts because it was so emotional to read. Even tho this was their fate I still feel hurt 😔 I loved how you wrote it bc it still felt unexpected if you know what I mean? I know you said it felt cliche but I still very much loved it all through. You know how to keep readers hooked and anticipate every move. This is hands down the best story I've encountered and felt myself invested on. The smuts were always so amazing 👏 I love when she's mean with Gyu and takes charge through that. I'm happy for Tyun to be alive since he got dragged in to their mess. But its upsetting to see it all unfold. I felt very bad for oc, each chapter her character developed more and she felt helpless. I definitely will miss gyu and her little moments together even when its something little and sweet to them fucking. I can't believe this is finished:( I will miss reading them so much. Thank you for writing stories that can touch and make us feel every emotion because I definitely felt everything til the end 🥺💙 (sorry for the long message)

that's a perfect description for it especially from oc's pov as she gets progressively trapped by gyu. i'll die on this hill but i loved oc's and gyu's cute moments. and their sad moments. and their ugly moments. i just loved them 😭

honestly oc wouldn't have survived long after gyu's death. not just because she would've killed herself but because she would've needed to be executed for killing the literal king in front of everyone. they would've just kept her alive long enough to deliver her baby before executing her and she would've lived in agony all that time, having lost gyu and then having her child ripped away from her as she gets carried to her death

and yes you were spot on. gyu would never have let oc go ever again. he controlled her so completely that even as he killed her, she only sought comfort from him.

honestly even if gyu didn't interfere, tyun wouldn't have been able to befriend oc as his father would have prevented it. but it's nice to imagine little oc helping little tyun out of his shell. if he could have had that one true friend, maybe he wouldn't have grown to be so cold

glad you like the switch up. i was afraid people would be too grossed out by it. but yeah the dream/nightmare, the necklace, seeing tyun irl looking almost dead... it all pushed her to do what she did. besides ofc she's always had doubts about the situation which gyu kept pushing down but seeing tyun like that just made it all explode the way a piece of foam would shoot up out of the water all the more forcefully the harder you try to push it down. am i making any sense?

lol yeah gyu knew in that moment that he was going to die so he had to think quick. there would be no use yelling at her. he had one goal in his life and that is to always have her by his side and damn it he was not going to let something as pesky as death stop him.

tyun and oc are both set in their ways and i know most of you like to think that he would've changed for her but i'm not so sure about that. yes he changed a little bit but that was just initially. how many relationships have you heard of where people change for a small period of time before reverting back to their old ways? that last action from both of them was a nod to that.

i wish miss them all too. i have loved this story and its characters for almost a year now and it's definitely hard to let go but i'm just so happy to have met all of you through this and so lucky that you all were as invested as i was in the fic.

never apologise for a long message. it's my favorite kind of message. thank you so so much and i love you ❤️

[rottenbrainstuff]

BG3 playthrough - GATHER YOUR ALLIES, MUTHAFUKKERS

I thought “fight the elder brain” would be a relatively quick encounter but surprise: it is not! I thought I was going to be able to wrap everything up last night but I had to take a break. Spoilers below the cut.

The elder brain has a different and interesting conversation with you if you’re a durge - it seems I am still facing the consequences of my actions. When she said the plan would have worked if I had stayed in the group, I’m… gosh I don’t know how to feel about that… how.. Interesting to hear that I was… a great tyrant…oh… good…?

Voss said Orpheus would slander my name and indeed he did, accusing me of stealing an unborn gith child! I assume this is on purpose to make it seem like Orpheus won’t be friendly, and not a glitch where the game thinks I did something bad? Cause excuse you me I did not STEAL A CHILD, I was GIVEN an egg by the CRECHE BABYSITTER who was afraid that the egg was going to be destroyed, and I protected it TWICE from sketchy Society of Brilliance people who offered to buy it off me. Then Orpheus went on to say the CORRECT action I SHOULD have done was to let his attacking honor guard kill me honorably, and because I didn’t, all these deaths were on my head. Ok. Ok. Needless to say, I didn’t shed any tears when he transformed into a mindflayer.

I do like that the choice between Orpheus and the Emperor is not exactly clear cut, there are some people who like the Emperor and want to side with it. I do feel like in its own way it has been working hard to help, it has, and like I said, Orpheus sure didn’t exactly win me over. BUT, but, in the end the Emperor reminds me too much of shitty people in my past, gaslighting and manipulating me. Everything it says has an aspect of the truth, which makes it hard to argue against, but you know in your gut there’s something wrong there, even if you can’t articulate it. When WE don’t trust it and hide things from it, it’s us being unwilling to work together, us being prejudiced against mindflayers, etc, but when IT withholds things from US, oh well that’s a totally different story, it HAD to do it, that was DIFFERENT, it’s DIFFERENT when it applies to itself, and we have a different set of rules. Yeah, fuck that, I’ve heard allllll of that before. It’s funny because I DO kind of see its point of view, when it summarized all the things it had done to help us in the past, I had to agree, but… yeah. That lecture about trust, the attitude it takes with us, I mean amazing writing on Larian’s part - the way the Emperor talked to us in that scene felt sooo disgustingly familiar, made me sick, and it might be some of my player issues bleeding through into my character, but that was it for my tav, that was it.

So the Emperor fucks off and says now we’ve left it NO OTHER CHOICE AT ALL, it is FORCED to join with the elder brain. Yeah, no. That’s not the only choice left, that doesn’t even make any sense my buddy, and you’re not blaming me for that, this isn’t my first rodeo with this bullshit, fuck you. Byeee.

Alright let’s go. It’s stressful to see the city ruined like this - my tav is so protective of his people, but he has to just trust they’re going to be able to save themselves right now.

GATHER YOUR ALLIES - aaaaah I was looking forward to this for weeks!!! It’s so satisfying to see everyone I helped all gather together. Except the Gondians, who are in my ally list but don’t show up at the final battle, lol. It’s also really not great how Zevlor feels tacked on… here he is, he’s back and he’s a hellrider again, somehow, no we didn’t record any chat dialogue for him because we didn’t have time / didn’t think you’d want it? Like man even freaking VOLO comes and hangs out at my camp. Myeh. Whatever. I’ll take what I can get I guess. I’d rather have this somewhat incomplete conclusion than a fully complete version where he betrays the grove like in the EA.

I believe I managed to collect every single non-evil-choice ally. Eh. And… maybe one evil choice ally? If you count the strange ox as an evil choice? Oops? I dunno guys, I dunno, we had a good chat there at the inn in act 2, I… didn’t… lol I have no excuse. I helped the ox, I don’t know why. Let’s just hope it keeps its desire for bloodshed sated with smugglers and thieves hiding out in the sewers, I guess?...

After that you can give a rousing… well… a rousing single line of dialogue, anyways. But, if you have Minsc in your party, you can defer to him to give the rallying speech, (I guess a nod to the old games?) and it’s actually pretty touching. He says he used to count the steps he had taken away from his home in Rashemon. He had to stop and let Boo do the counting instead because the number got too high and it made his head hurt - and his heart. But now he considers the number of steps to be zero, because he feels like Baldur’s Gate is his home now, and he will fight to defend his home! Your one little voiceless line of dialogue really pales in comparison tbh. It’s a bit too bad… I wish your own character had a similarly rousing moment. I feel like this would have been a great place to have your tav VA record a couple dialogue lines for a little speech, and that would have felt really neat, similar to what happens when a durge fights Orin. Oh well.

PHEW. Onward to victory! Here we are at the end of the playthrough. Hard to believe.

(the cranium rats all stopping to look at me was a bizarre and fun touch!!! Guess how many times I had to reload back to the boat because I forgot the hammer or some other item?)

[biisexualemma]

home. pt 4. bucky barnes

word count: 4.1k

warnings: implications of sex (blink and you'll miss it), nudity (again nothing descriptive) but generally lots of fluff and tiny bit of angst

requested: yes and no but it's here anyway lol

plot: you're recovering from your mission with sam and his family, patiently awaiting for bucky to come home

a/n: thank you for the support on this series loool i hope you like this! i think this will likely be the last part! it rounds off quite nicely i think so hope this is a satisfying ending! i loved writing this, especially the bathroom scene! enjoy! comment! lmk what you think! (also sorry this is so long i got carried away when editing oop--)

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / marvel masterlist / multi-fandom masterlist

you huffed, swatting away the tiny hand prodding your forehead. when it persisted, you let out a throaty groan, forcing open your groggy eyes, to see cass, sam's nephew, nose to nose with you. you scrunched up your nose, squinting at him with tired eyes, before letting out a breathy laugh and shoving his face away with the palm of your hand.

"can't a girl get a lie in around here?" you grumbled, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as aj came running into the sitting room following his brother. you shot him a small smile, cautiously pushing yourself upright on the couch. you bit down on the inside of your cheek, the familiar sharpness shooting through your ribs as you repositioned yourself, trying to mask any pain you felt.

"nope," cass hopped on the end of the couch, sitting himself on top of you, shaking his head with a toothy grin. you let out a strained yawn, stretching your arms up over your head, having to force yourself awake. you winced, the stabbing pain returning as you dropped your arms back to your side. you tried to disguise it with a small laugh, ruffling up cass' hair, who was sat watching you from his end of the couch.

"mom had to go down to the harbour with uncle sam," aj informed you, positioning himself on the arm of the couch beside you. you nodded, sighing lightly, you slumped your shoulders, you were still tired. you had gotten pretty close to sam's family in the past week or so you'd spent on their couch, but it was so easy to love these kids. they were the sweetest, cheekiest kids you'd ever met. they reminded you so much of sam. "'told us to look after you."

"no," you shook your head, quickly protesting. "i'm the adult here."

"maybe," aj wore a wide, cheeky smile, dragging out the word. "but uncle sam says you're a hot mess, and that we gotta' help you out," you could hear sam saying this to his nephew. your eyebrows knitted, glancing between the two boys who were giggling as you feigned a look of hurt. you couldn't help but crack a small smile after a while, they were too easy and they were too cute to even pretend to be mad at.

"your uncle sam doesn't know what he's talking about," you waved away his comment. "i'm fine," you insisted quickly before a small, insubordinate smirk began forming on your lips. their faces lit up with small smiles, watching your every move, taking in everything you were saying. that was one thing you loved about kids, you could tell them absolutely anything and they would believe you, no questions asked. you turned your attention back to cass who was still sat, legs crossed, his weight crushing your feet a little (though you didn't mind so much). he had the cheekiest smile of the both of them. "so," you quirked an eyebrow. "are you gonna' sit on me all day or do you wanna eat some pancakes?" you had to suppress your laughter when his eyes widened, knowing just how much he loved breakfast food. kids were too easily persuaded.

his lips tightened, trying to hold back an excited smile. he glanced over at his older brother, trying to figure out if he was allowed to accept your offer, before his eyes moved back at you. you tilted your head, giving him a look. "well?" you teased, knowing you had him.

"pancakes!" he caved, just like you knew he would. you couldn't blame him, who could resist pancakes. his voice raised an octave higher in his excitement. you giggled as cass hopped off of you, running towards the kitchen with his older brother following behind him, just as enthusiastically.

you let out a soft humph, your smile falling a little as you dragged your feet over the side of the couch, letting them hang there for a moment. you were healing well, you just constantly felt wiped out now you had finally taken a breather. you hadn't realised how much you'd been pushing yourself during this mission, until you stopped. sam had noticed too, so he wasn't letting you contribute much around the house.

you had been hesitant to accept his offer at first, the last thing you wanted to do, after everything, was impose. you knew sam had his own stuff to work out too. but it was sarah, in the end, who reassured you that you were more than welcome to stick around as long as you needed. something about your presence around the house being much needed as she was currently outnumbered three to one. so, to try and make yourself somewhat useful, you offered to watch the boys anytime she needed.

you were grateful to them both for letting you crash, and, truthfully, you were happy you did take the offer in the end, it was much needed. it also helped that literally every single person you had met was kind and welcoming, something you hadn't felt in a while. that, along with sam's lovely family, was enough to keep your mind off things for a while.

things being bucky, who you hadn't heard from since the fight with walker. he hadn't checked in with you once. you knew he had his own stuff to handle but it still didn't make you feel great knowing he was out there god knows where, doing god knows what. it stung a little when he up and left you like that without a second thought. if he wasn't willing for you to tag along, you expected for him to communicate his plans to you, at the least. but you should've known, bucky had never been very good at communicating.

"y/n, c'mon! it's pancake time!" you were pulled out of your thoughts by aj, whose hand latched onto yours, urging you onto your feet. you forced a small smile, pushing any thoughts out of your head that didn't involve making pancakes, and ignoring the dull ache in your chest that came whenever you thought about him. if you just kept busy, you wouldn't have to think about any of it.

-

you lifted your hand to your face, wiping away the beads of sweat dripping from your forehead. the sun was high and it was sweltering, you hadn't adjusted to the louisiana heat yet and you weren't sure you ever would.

you peeled off the jacket that was starting to stick to your clammy skin, tossing it aside, deciding that now was a good time to take a break. collapsing onto an upturned crate, you let out a weighted sigh, squinting, using the back of your hand to shield your eyes as the sun shone down into your line of sight.

"here," sarah appeared behind you, handing over a cold bottle of water. you mumbled a quiet thank you, before quickly gulping down the refreshing water. you let out a content sigh after quenching your thirst, your shoulders slumping. she rested her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently before taking a seat beside you. "how y'getting on?"

you shrugged, your eyes watching your feet, feeling the subtle sway of the boat floating on the water. "sam won't let me help with the heavy duty stuff, so he's got me painting," you motioned to the bucket of paint and the brush sitting on the ground where you had left them.

she nodded. "and how you feelin'?"

you straightened your back, lifting your gaze to meet her stare for a second. "i'm getting there. but this heat doesn't quit," she let out a soft laugh, nodding again.

"yeah, that's something you never really get used to," she patted your shoulder again, another soft, reassuring squeeze. "i gotta' run to the store, i'll be back in a half hour. need anything?" you shook your head, mumbling a quiet no thank you. "alright, well, don't strain yourself."

you rolled your eyes, halfheartedly. she wore a teasing smile, one that reminded you of sam. they were so alike, it was weird sometimes when you thought about how this was the life behind the man you had known for so many years. "i won't," she nudged your shoulder when you shook your head again. "not with sam around anyway," you joked, scrunching up your nose.

"hey," she called, edging away from you as she made to leave. you looked over at her, blocking the sun from your eyes with your hand. she quirked an eyebrow at you. "he's looking out for you! we all are," you tightened your lips, trying to disguise the smile growing on your lips. you nodded, waving goodbye as she left the boat.

it felt nice to have the small circle of people who cared for you, starting to grow.

a loud noise emitting from the other end of the boat caught your attention, your eyes widening when you spotted a cloud of steam gushing from one of the pipes. you darted over, your hands frantically hovering around the pipe as you tried to figure out how best to fix whatever it was that was broken. you rummaged through the tool box sitting next to you, and grabbed a wrench, purely because it felt the like the right tool to grab. in truth, you had no idea what the hell you were doing. you clapped the tool around the pipe, trying with all your might to stop the steam from spitting out.

"sam!" you hollered over your shoulder, trying to catch the mans attention so he could help you. "i have no idea what the hell i'm doing!" you called blindly in a panic, hoping someone would swing in and take over before you made this any worse.

"here," you felt a hand tap your shoulder, so you let go of the tool and stepped back. only it wasn't sam like you had expected. you stumbled backwards into sam, his hands touching your forearm as you regained your balance. it was bucky who had his hands clamped round the wrench, fixing the pipe with relative ease.

you gulped. you couldn't figure out how you were feeling now he was in front of you. your feelings were mixed. mainly you felt relieved that he was in front of you in one piece. "thanks," was all you managed to croak out once he turned to face you. his eyes focused on you, squinting from the sun in his eyes. he opened his mouth to say something to you when sam cut him off.

"why didn't you use your metal arm?" you raised an eyebrow, watching as bucky shrugged, his eyes dragging away from you and towards sam.

"i don't always think of it immediately," he admitted honestly. "i'm right handed."

you sighed. you sometimes wondered how this was the same man who traipsed around for ninety years as the winter soldier. you rolled your eyes, moving away from the two of them, returning to the painting you'd been hard at work with before all this commotion.

you'd just have to speak to bucky later, when you could be alone. right now, you were helping sam.

--

bucky had reluctantly agreed to stay the night after a long day working on the boat. you had been carefully avoiding him all day. you didn't feel much like hashing things out in front of sam and his entire family, so you stuck your head down and got on with your work.

but now it was pretty late, a lot of time had passed, and you had yet to catch your boyfriend alone. you figured a shower would do you good, to clean you up and hopefully clear your head.

your eyes were deeply focused on your own, watching yourself in the foggy mirror after finally leaving the comfort of the hot shower. your eyes were sunken, hollow almost as you looked back at yourself. you didn't look like yourself. you looked tired all the time, mainly because you were tired all the time.

you hadn't been sleeping as well without bucky next to you. along with sam's nephews waking you up at the crack of dawn every morning, you weren't getting as much sleep as you should be. though you couldn't blame the boys, they were excited to have someone in the house that let them do whatever they wanted to do (though it got you in trouble a fair bit). bucky, however, you could blame. if he had just told you straight where he was going, what his plan was. if he'd just contacted you so you knew he was ok all that time he was away. but he didn't. he left you behind to finish his own mission, not thinking twice about how it would make you feel.

your fingertips grazed over the skin of your neck, the bruising was finally starting to turn an ugly yellow colour, meaning it would start to fade away soon. most of your wounds had healed, you were mainly left with bruises and scabs and a subtle ache. nothing too serious. but it certainly made you look like hell.

you pursed your lips, your fingertips trailing down your chest, until gently brushing against the large purple-green bruise running across your ribs. you twisted your abdomen to get a better a look at the bruise that circled round to your back, wincing and gritting your teeth as you did. sam mentioned something about your ribs taking longer to heal than any of the other injuries, you just didn't think he meant it'd take this long.

you startled, flinching from the knock on the door, drifting you out of your thoughts and back to your current state. you grabbed a towel from the rack beside you and wrapped it around yourself. "yeah?" you called out in response to the knock. you wiped away the droplets of water covering your face with your hand, sniffling as you secured the towel around your chest.

"it's me," the soft, familiar voice muffled through the door dividing the two of you. you gulped, glancing at your reflection one last time, before turning away.

you hesitated, but ultimately unlocked the door and pulled it open. you turned back to the mirror, leaving the door to hang open as you stood with your back to him. he let himself in, locking the door again behind himself. he hovered by the door, falling back against it, his eyes watching carefully as you ran your hands over your face.

you glanced at him in the reflection of the mirror, out the corner of your eye. his eyes lingered over your body, only his eyes were just as hollow as yours. after a moment of silence, he let out a sigh, and edged across the small space to be closer to you. "hey," he mumbled softly, his hands gripping your waist over the towel. you took in a sharp breath, your hands quickly moving to his to pull them away from your tender bruises. you turned yourself to face him, still holding his hands that hovered over your waist now. his eyes widened slightly, moving back and forth between yours, looking for you to tell him what he'd done wrong.

"sore still," you scrunched up your nose, the ache slowly fading away again after he'd let go. it wasn't his fault, he wasn't to know.

his eyebrows creased together, his eyes trickling down to the visible bruises marked around your throat. he gulped, he gave your hands a soft squeeze before moving them to your shoulders. he couldn't pull his stare away from you, he was taking you all in. his fingertips pressing into your shoulders gently, his lips pursing.

"m'sorry," he mumbled in a whisper. his eyes lifting back up to yours again, soaked with guilt.

you shook your head faintly. "y'didn't know--"

"no--" he shook his head. "i'm sorry i left like that," his hands slipping from your shoulders, his soft touch trailing down your bare arms before gripping your forearms. he hadn't noticed the bandage on your wrist until his fingers grazed against the material. he scrunched up his face, his touch leaving you as he turned away. he moved a hand to his face, his forefinger and thumb trying to unknit the crease between his eyebrows.

"it's alright, buck," you spoke softly. it wasn't really ok, at least, not how he left. but you didn't want him beating himself up about you being hurt, that was part of the job, that had nothing to do with him. "i'm fine, really."

"you're still a terrible liar," his voice was cold, and your chest tightened. "i should've held back longer before i left," he shook his head again, his gaze dropping to the floor. "i should've said something," you let out a sigh, reaching out, your fingertips grazing his arm. he turned around under your touch, his jaw clenched when he met your eyes again. he never imagined being this much under someones control ever again. but here you were, and he would do anything you asked.

you pursed your lips. "maybe," you shrugged. you had given it some thought throughout the day. you couldn't hold a grudge against him forever, he made a split second decision, and he knew he was leaving you in capable hands. "but what's happened has happened. there was a lot going on. i'm sure you're still processing a lot of it."

he was pouring so much emotion into you with just a stare, your eyes fluttering as you held his gaze. "i was angry-- i didn't think everything through-- i just-- i knew i needed to deal with zemo."

you sniffled, gulping down the lump in your throat. "i get it. you didn't want me there to see any of it," you thought back to when bucky told you he never wanted you to have to see him as the winter soldier again. you thought back to watching bucky fight under zemo's control. you understood why he needed to do what he did, you'd said time and time again, you would kill zemo yourself when the mission was over.

"i didn't kill him," he admitted hesitantly. "the Dora Milaje took care of him."

you raised an eyebrow. "oh, that's so much worse for him," bucky nodded in agreement, his lips pursing. "good."

"yeah," he trailed off, his eyes glossing over for a moment as if lost in thought. you wished sometimes that you could see inside that head of his. you nudged his side after a while, mumbling a quiet hey, his eyes focusing back on you. he frowned. "what was the damage?"

you shrugged. "i think walker had a hearing--"

"no-- no--" he cut you off quickly, your mouth hanging open as he stopped you mid-sentence. "you. what's the extent of your injuries? how you feelin'?"

"oh," your eyebrows unknitted, shrugging again. "i--uh-- had a mild concussion. a few broken ribs and just a lot of bruising, some open wounds but it wasn't too bad considering i went up against a super soldier," you forced a smile, trying to ease some of the tension that bucky was creating with that frown on his face.

you moved your hand up to his face, cupping his cheek. your thumb grazed his cheek, and you remembered the gash across his face had healed since the last time you saw him. you gave him a genuine, soft smile in hopes of reassuring him. "i really am fine. sam says i just need to take it easy for a couple weeks."

he nodded faintly. he hovered his hand over yours, turning his cheek and pressing his lips to the palm of your hand. your eyelids fluttered feeling his lips touch your skin tenderly. made you realise just how much you had missed bucky since he'd been away. he squeezed your hand affectionately, his lips lingering on your skin.

your free hand quickly moved to your towel when it loosened around your chest, just catching it in time. bucky's eyes moved to your towel for a split second, like he was suddenly reminded that you were standing in front of him in practically nothing. his eyes remained soft as he looked at you though, he cleared his throat before moving his hand to your cheek, slipping his fingers into your wet hair gently.

"how're you healing?" he mumbled in a whisper.

you gulped, his eyes locked on yours as he spoke. your eyes darted back and forth between his. "bruises are still there but they're fading," you spoke softly now that he was close enough to you. you could feel his breath fanning against your skin. he nodded, biting the inside of his cheek as he tried to keep his eyes from drifting downwards. "wanna' see?"

his eyebrows twitched into a frown for only a second, unsure that he heard you correctly. "uh-- yeah," he breathed out, his breath grazing your skin. you untied the towel from round your chest, letting it fall to the floor beneath you with a soft thud.

bucky's jaw tightened. usually, quite happy to see you standing in front of him wearing absolutely nothing, he couldn't shift his eyes for a while from the enormous bruise covering your abdomen. his eyebrows unknitted, unsettled by the nasty bruise spread over your soft skin, his eyes shooting up to yours quickly.

"fuck walker," he muttered under his breath. "this is all from him?" you nodded faintly, eyes fluttering and your breath hitching in your throat when his fingers carefully brushed against the discoloured stretch of skin.

"it was a lot worse," you spoke in a hushed voice. "it's healed a lot."

bucky didn't speak for a while and neither did you, his eyes trailing over your body, unclothed facing him. after a moment, he got down onto his knees. you gulped, his head tilting back for a second, eyes meeting yours from beneath you. your breaths grew rapid the closer he got, his forehead gently falling against your bare stomach before pressing a soft kiss to the purple--green lesion covering your skin. you let out a shaky breath, shifting your arms so you could run your fingers through his hair. you still weren't used to the length.

"i love you," he mumbled against your skin. your hands stilled where they rested in his hair, moving to tilt his head back, forcing his eyes to meet yours again. he pressed another sweet kiss to your stomach before moving himself back up to your height. your eyes were wide slightly, your fingers slipping out from between his locks. both his hands moving to either side of your face now. "don't freak out on me, you don't have to say it back. 'just needed you to know what i was thinking."

"and you're thinking-- that you love me?" you reiterated. he nodded, the corner of his lips turning into a soft smile. you couldn't help but mimic his expression, your heart beating a bit harder now, the sound rushing through your ears. it had been a long time since someone had told you they loved you, and meant it. a warm feeling spread through your chest, you were on such a high, soaking in the way he was looking at you with tender eyes. "pretty sure i love you too, buck."

you were a hundred percent sure, you just didn't want to seem too keen. you were already standing in front of him naked.

his lips stretched into a wider smile, ducking his head for a second, remembering suddenly that you were in fact completely naked in front of him, and he hadn't done anything about it. you swallowed a small laugh escaping your lips, watching a realisation hit bucky before he ducked down to your height and pressed his lips against yours. you relished in the feeling. "i love you, i love you, i love you," he muttered repeatedly, his lips pushed against yours, your smile growing wider every time he said it. you choked out a laugh, pushing at bucky's chest so you could catch a breath.

"i get it," you scrunched up your nose. "you love me," you teased, laughing wholeheartedly. you felt warm and comforted and somewhat normal for the first time in a really long time. you nudged his chest once more, his hands gripping your hips to pull you back to him. "so show me."

bucky's smile grew with your words, his mouth hanging open for a second. he didn't know how things managed to work out this good for him, but he wasn't going to question it. he was going to enjoy every moment with you for as long as he could.

"oh, god," he let out a throaty wine. "gladly."

taglist: @lo-manburg @bluemoon-icecream @farfromjustordinary @stolenxkissess

[felassan]

Check out this video interview with Mark Darrah, ‘On Anthem’s Launch, Dev Advice, And Leaving BioWare’. It’s interesting and pretty substantial. He talks about a bunch of different things, including his YouTube channel, things BioWare could’ve done differently, crunch, whether he’ll write a book about his gamedev experiences, gamedev pitfalls, Anthem’s troubled development, the development of projects he worked on including DA2, cancelled projects (and what happened to them) including Jade Empire 2 / ‘Jade Modern’ / Revolver and Mass Effect: Corsair, the reasons why he left BioWare and Dragon Age 4.

I recc giving the whole thing a watch, but if you’re not able to, here are the Dragon Age 4-related quotes and other especially interesting-to-me portions transcribed for ur convenience! (under a cut due to length):

Mark: "There is a tendency for projects that are small to think they're amazing, because it's so much easier. Like when I ran Sonic [Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood] - it was a 20 person team - it's just so much easier to make things go smoothly than when you have a 200 person team. So I think that we've made progress, but as Dragon Age pivots into production and that team gets bigger and bigger, it will be interesting to see if that's true or if it's just the blindness of being a small team. Like when Inquisition was in the throes of shipping, both Mass Effect: Andromeda and Anthem would love to talk about how they were 'doing things right!' and then they fell in totally different holes, but still fell in a bunch of holes after Inquisition shipped. So I do think that there is a hubris that comes from a project in early development where you feel like this time you've figured it out."

---    Mark: “As Dragon Age [4] was moving towards production, I could see that like, the team, I've been told by people that they've never met a team that more wants to be in production than Dragon Age team. But what ended up happening was, in order for the team to really explore the space properly, we had to sort've train them to be in pre-production. But that meant that that team no longer really wanted to be in production, they wanted to be in pre-production. And so, looking at what was going to be required to pivot that team into production, it wasn't a challenge that I thought I was up to any longer. I think that team, once they get into the mindset, is capable of moving entire mountains, and will move entire mountains, but they need someone that can lead them through that."

Interviewer: “Yeah, from the outside it's striking that you and Casey Hudson left at the same time. It sort’ve definitely implies a ‘fuck this’ moment for the two of you. If it was just you saying ‘I can’t do it’ then it’s understandable.”

Mark: “Yeah, no, I mean, it’s hilarious, because, we definitely were not coordinated. That was, as near as I can determine, there was nothing that triggered us on the same moment other than maybe just a sort’ve mounting, just, like, this friction, being at the, I would say, the GM and EP, the point at which the [something?] friction and the project friction meet, and you’re just sort of grinding there. But I don’t think there was a massive injection of anything late last year that triggered that. Not that I can point to. For me, yeah, I do think it was, weirdly, a coincidence. Casey and I have stayed in touch, we didn’t leave to go form a studio together or anything.”

---

Interviewer: “Are you being torn apart a little bit internally about that pressure of, ‘I know if I just made a video that said, The Secrets of Dragon Age - not even Dragon Age 4, whatever the hell that thing’s called at this point - but just, The Secrets of Dragon Age: Origins’, like, you know that  audience surely would show up. I imagine there’s that community that’s screaming at you, like, ‘Tell us something we don’t know about Dragon Age, tell us about the future!!’, versus, trying to play it a little more straight and actually offer gamedev advice.”

Mark: “Yeah, for sure, absolutely, like, looking at, there is an entire segment of YouTube which is ‘Dragon Age fans talking about Dragon theories and watching the trailers and picking them apart’ and I could do that, and that would be, I feel like that would almost destructive to everybody, because I could deflate all the theories, some of which are completely completely wrong, some of which are amazingly right. But I think, like, I don’t think the community actually wants that. They might sort’ve think they do, but I think if I just sort’ve pulled away the curtain, I think it’d be like, ‘Ohh.. but now what are we gonna talk about? :(’ Like I don’t think that anybody wants that honestly. It would be great for my metrics but I don’t think anyone really wants that.”

Interviewer: “And not to offer you advice, but like I think there’s somewhere in the middle. Like when they have the next teaser trailer for the next Dragon Age project, you could do a reaction video to that and it would be your most viewed thing by a mile, and you wouldn’t be stepping on anybody’s toes.”

Mark: “Yeah, I have thought about that exact thing. Cause we’ve now moved, I think, beyond the horizon of anything that comes out of Dragon Age at this point, like if they’re at EA Play, and I don’t know if they’re at EA Play or not, then whatever that is will be something that I didn’t have anything to do with, so we’re reaching the point where I can now, I feel like, start to provide, yeah, reaction videos from the perspective of, an incredibly well-informed outsider.”

---

Interviewer: “And you must know, even though you’re not inside the studio, like, just have an appreciation how much that [MELE’s good success and good reception] can do for the studio’s morale. I’d imagine it’s just night and day.”

Mark: “Oh, absolutely, like. Andromeda and Anthem being the last two things before the remaster, that is a cloud that hangs above the studio for sure.”

Interviewer: “Yeah, I mean I remember visiting for Dragon Age: Inquisition, it must have been, and it was still, like, the Mass Effect 3 ending, I feel like, even visiting the studio for two days, you could feel that like, funk, of just like ‘ugh, good Christ, we’ve gotten the crap kicked out of us’.”

Mark: “Yeah, I mean. The Mass endings is an interesting one for me. Because, it’s not the choices I would have made to end the game, but those are the choices that were made. I wonder... I don’t like ultimatums, and I feel like with Mass 3, the team kind’ve gave into an ultimatum. The community was so angry that we then released new better endings to ‘fix it’, and it’s not that that’s a bad piece of content, that’s a good piece of content, but I just worry that, the internet today, seems almost like... a reaction to the Mass 3 endings. Almost like, the internet learned that if you just yell loud enough you get what you want. And I don’t think that’s real, because it’s Mass Effect, it’s not Star Wars.”

Interviewer: “But I mean, if it wasn’t the ending of Mass Effect 3, it would have been something else in that era of Voices On The Internet Being So loud that it causes a big company to pivot and be like ‘Okay, we’ll try and make you a little bit happier, please just relax everybody’.”

Mark: “Yeah, totally. So I mean, I don’t think Mass Effect bears the brunt of the blame of toxic fan culture. But certainly it’s one of the very first examples of that culture managing to make something happen.”

---

Mark: “Now I do feel that maybe I overlearned that lesson, because, something that I did a lot on Anthem was talk about how, you know, ‘this is not a BioWare-style game, this is not gonna have the storytelling that you’re used to’. And I think maybe I overstressed that. I do think that at the end of the day where we are with Anthem today, if you were a BioWare fan that liked all our other games, and you play Anthem with an eye to playing it as a storytelling game, it’s certainly not our best, but it’s not bad.”

Interviewer: “So Anthem marketing and messaging was hurt because you were overlearning the lessons from Sonic, that’s the takeaway?”

Mark: “I do think so. I do think that like, I don’t think it was from the marketing perspective, but I do think that both Casey and I overstressed [that]. We didn’t want people to get mad at us for making a game that wasn’t a very good storytelling game, so we wanted to get ahead of that message and say like, ‘it’s not a very strong storytelling game, it’s a game about all this other stuff’, but, at the end of the day, it is a storytelling game, it’s still in there. And those are the people that stayed away. And if those people hadn't stayed away, I’m not saying the game would have suddenly done [awesome], but it would’ve softened the narrative a little bit, I think.”

Interviewer: “Yeah, yeah. I mean, I’m sure you understand this better than anybody, but that’s such a loaded term to say ‘This is a BioWare-style game’, and obviously there’s that era of EA where they were trying to say that every project within EA was a ‘BioWare-style’ game and so, it’s interesting to hear you kind’ve, hemming and hawwing about how much to lean into, ‘no no, this one is 100% BioWare, this one is 73% BioWare’ - it’s such a murky thing.”

Mark: “It absolutely is, I mean, and I even said these things. Like we made MDK2, well, we made it, so I mean is that a ‘BioWare-style’ game? Is Baldur’s Gate a ‘BioWare-style’ game? But if it is, then how is Mass Effect a ‘BioWare-style’ game, and certainly I don’t think anyone would argue that Mass Effect is not a ‘BioWare-style’ game. So that term has to evolve as the studio continues. But I think for whatever reason, for a variety of reasons, I guess, with Anthem we were worried that maybe we’d pushed it a bit too far. And then I guess we did.”

Interviewer: “Did you enjoy any part of working on Anthem, or was it just a matter of putting out so many fires that it was just nothing but stress til the end?”

Mark: “It was stressful for me. I mean. I have a weird - the last ten years of my career at BioWare seemed to involve a lot of helping people land their planes. And that’s what Anthem was for me, I wasn't there from the beginning. I was helping to land it. I think there’s a satisfaction that comes with landing a game, with finishing a product, and I felt that with Anthem as well, and there were a lot of talented people on that project that I’d never worked with before, and that was great. It was great to, y’know, figure out these people that had only ever worked on a Mass Effect, that I’d never worked with before, their skills and abilities. I really like understanding the strengths and weaknesses of a person and building around that. I didn’t really have an opportunity on Anthem to do that because y’know, we were just trying to get the plane on the ground, but I think, having learned about what those people could do, that’s very gratifying because it lets you imagine what you could do with them in the future.” 

Interviewer: “Yeah, if things aligned magically, but for you you realized it never was gonna align, and it was always just right on the horizon of being able to cobble this amazing talent together and focus it down.”

Mark: “Yeah, I mean - I think that I, the mistake that I made on Anthem, I think the biggest mistake, was I’m used to getting a team that pushes back on me in a certain way. So as I’m sort’ve pushing the stick down to get the plane to hit the runway, I’m used to pushing it sort’ve too far, because I know that the team is gonna push it back and then we’re gonna end up where it should be. And I think that given the state of the team on Anthem when I came on, and given the differences in personalities of the leaders there, versus the ones that I’d been working with for ten years, that’s not what happened. I think if anything, I pushed it down, and then they grabbed it and pulled it even further, because they were desperate for help in decision-making, and I was providing decisions. And they were grabbing onto that, and so I thought we were on this glide slope [motions], I was aiming at this glide slope expecting that we were gonna be like [this], but instead we were like [this], and so we, yeah, we landed that pretty rough. But, I mean, it was my call, I’m the one that said we shouldn’t push to move this, not because I thought it was perfect, but because the only path I could see to making it way better was moving it a lot. And when you’re in the last eight, nine weeks of a project, I could only see like, if we were gonna move it, we [would] have to move it like a year. And that’s - in a public corporation that’s a hard argument to make.”

---

Mark: “One of the most expensive things a project can do is slip. Because, your team, when you do that your team is at its maximum size, so if you got 200 people working on a project and you move a month, well that’s 200 staff months, you just got a bunch more expensive just by moving a month. Whereas actually adding more people, well if you only got a month left, to add 200 staff months to a project, you gotta add 200 people, that’s a lotta people. Moving the date is one of the most expensive, and you can reach a point where it’s like, look, it’s not worth it, if we move the date it’s gonna cost more to continue this project than it’s gonna make, so we’re not gonna. But rarely is that the case, you’ve already spent the money you’ve spent, so the only cost that matters is the cost going forward.”

Interviewer: “So, do you regret not pushing for Anthem to be delayed a year or was it good just to get something on the ground so that we could start building to take it off again with a living game?”

Mark: “Yeah, honestly, I don’t regret it, the [team/game?] was tired and it didn’t have another year in it, and I think a lot of the things that are super obvious now, some of them we knew, some of them we knew, like the balance, we had done one, clean balance pass, by having QA come in and hotseat their way through the game over Christmas break. Like literally playing the game 24 hours a day. We’d done basically that once. So we knew that, we knew that. But a lot of the other things kind’ve only came out once it was out in peoples’ hands. I think the path that I wasn’t capable of seeing at the time that could’ve maybe resulted in a better game would’ve been to put it into beta, like a real beta, in the state that it was in, and run it like that and then release it a year later. But I don’t know if there was the will to do that frankly. There might be now... I think Anthem taught EA a lot of lessons.”

Mark: “[on Cyberpunk] I think many of the same things happened there [as with Anthem]. They had a team that was tired and it wasn’t ready but they couldn’t see the path to getting it more ready. If the team is too tired, just taking another two months just isn’t gonna get you what you think it’s gonna get you.” [source]

[echoghost1]

DannyMay 2021 Day 04: Stars

To Spark Like The Stars

Summary: Danny's Spark was Space.

To ghosts, indulging your Spark was just a thing you did. If you didn't, what was the point in existing? Unfortunately to humans, it just looked like he was being irresponsible and obsessive.

It wasn't his fault it was easier to see at night.

Word Count: 2,339

A/N: This is a follow-up to Out Of This World (And Into The Next), which is my AU where Danny gets ghost adopted by the lunch lady when they first meet.

Also, there's a little bit that has to deal with bullying and fat-shaming.

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut

Danny couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t stay in his room either. He had to go out there. Had to be where he could see the night sky in all its glory.

He really really wanted to go outside.

Unfortunately, his mom had already caught him outside earlier and sent him to his room.

Sure, he could just turn invisible and go out again, but it was the principal of the thing.

She told him to go to his room and he didn’t want her to think he was being disobedient.

But God, the sky was perfect tonight. It was a new moon and that made it so much easier to see the stars.

Not that he didn’t love the moon too.

He sighed and wondered how long it would take for her to fall asleep.

Or maybe he should just look out the window instead?

He glanced over at his window and decided a little was better than none at all.

==============================================

Danny had been reprimanded for sleeping in class no less than three times. Due to how tired he was, he wasn’t sure how many times it really was, but it was definitely three.

Probably more.

Especially considering he was now sitting in Mr. Lancer’s office, for such behavior.

Now was probably a really bad time to yawn.

“Mr. Fenton!” Lancer scolded, “This is exactly what I am talking about.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said as he fought back another yawn.

“What on earth is keeping you up, Mr. Fenton?”

“Nothing.” He answered honestly.

“You can’t seriously expect me to believe that.” the teacher deadpanned. “I had to wake you five times in my English class alone!”

Ah, more than five then. That was…

Not good.

“Sorry.” he fidgeted in his seat and figured he better elaborate as quickly as possible. “I didn’t mean that nothing was keeping me up, I meant nothing on earth was keeping me up.”

Mr. Lancer just stared at him.

“The stars, the moon. Any and all celestial bodies that can be viewed from here. That’s what keeps me up. If I could see it all during the day, I wouldn’t have this problem.”

Mr. Lancer let out a long sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Daniel, I generally like to encourage students to follow their passions but this is getting ridiculous.”

Danny just looked down to his lap instead of responding.

“You know you can’t be an astronaut for NASA if you fail out of high school right? Because if you keep sleeping through your lessons that’s what’s going to happen.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just do better.”

Danny looked up and wasn’t quite sure what to make of that advice. If it was advice.

“If you want to reach your goals, now is the time to keep your nose to the grindstone. To set yourself up with good habits now, so they become second nature when you really need them as your further your education. You understand that don’t you?”

Danny nodded. He’d heard something similar from Jazz before.

“Good. Now I want you in my classroom after school today to make sure you understand today’s lesson.”

“But!” Danny started to protest but stopped himself. One day of detention was getting off easy. “Okay.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you at three.”

==============================================

After his detention intervention, Danny tried to resist the urge to watch the sky all night every night.

He limited himself as best he could.

He just went out for late-night flights anytime the moon changed phases.

Or whenever any astronomical event took place. Like the passing of a comet or a meteor shower. A conjuncture of their planetary neighbors. An eclipse, even if it wasn’t actually visible from his position on the earth.

Or whenever an important astronomical figure had a birthday. They were all important.

Or whenever there was an anniversary of a launched shuttle or satellite. Not just ones from NASA but any from Earth.

Only going out on these days cut down on his late-night excursions. Maybe not as many as the adults in his life would like, but there were less.

It’s not his fault the space race happened. You couldn’t really blame him for how active the universe was. It was silly and just plain ridiculous to do so.

Besides, he stopped going out on nights when it rained. Even though he could easily fly above the clouds and see, the idea of getting that close to the source of lightning didn’t sit well with him.

He figured it was understandable when he got irritated when Jazz blocked his way out on one of these nights. She didn’t seem to think so.

“Are you just going to stand there all night, or can I go?” he asked after she had sidestepped and blocked him from passing her. Again.

It was times like these that he missed being a skinny little twig. There was no way he’d be able to squeeze past her now.

“That depends,” she countered, “Where are you going?”

“For a walk.”

“Where to?”

“Just around.”

“What’s the lunchbox for?”

“Snacks.”

“You’re going out long enough to need snacks?”

“Maybe! What’s it to you?”

“Danny, I’m worried about you.”

“Why?” he asked trying his best not to sound super annoyed. Which he was.

She sighed, “This isn’t like you. Sneaking out nearly every night. The weight gain.”

“Hey!” how dare she chose now to notice that.

“Well?” she looked pointedly at his stomach, “It’s kind of hard not to notice.”

It was bad enough that Dash had started making fun of him for it now, he didn’t need her added criticism too.

“There’s nothing wrong with a little weight gain.”

“This happened pretty fast, Danny. It’s not healthy.”

“I’m fine, Jazz.” Just because the time he spent in the ghost zone didn’t translate properly didn’t mean anything. Sure he was glad he wasn’t missing for 14 years, or however long it took his second ghost childhood to happen, but this is the type of situation where it became annoying.

“Danny,” Jazz started but he quickly cut her off.

“If you don’t want me to eat, then fine!” he tossed his lunchbox on the counter, “Now could you please just get out of my way?”

“Please just talk to me.”

“About what?!”

Why wouldn’t she just let him leave? If he didn’t hurry he was going to miss it. He needed to be out there. Why was she not letting him go?

“Where do you need to be so badly?” she asked in a voice that was surprisingly still calm despite how irritated he was.

“Just outside. I’m not doing anything wrong. I just need to be outside.”

“Need to?”

“Yes! Now can you move?”

“Why are you so upset?”

Couldn’t she see how much she was hurting him? Maybe not? Did he need to give her an example? Fine, he could do that, “I don’t run into your room and rip all the pages out of your psych books, do I?”

“What? No? But what does that have to do with this?”

“That’s what you’re doing to me! Let me go! Please!” his chest hurt as he begged her. He didn’t want to use his powers if he didn’t have to but she was just making it so hard to resist. It would be so easy to just walk right through her like she wasn’t there. Like he wasn’t there.

But he’d kept his ghostliness a secret this long he could keep it for tonight too.

She searched him with her eyes, trying to find something but he didn’t know or care what, as long as it let him be with his stars. He’d do anything.

“Can I come with you?”

“Fine! Whatever!” he grabbed her hand and nearly ran to the front door.

He barely gave her enough time to grab her coat and slip in her shoes. She was lucky he didn’t just fly off then and there.

They walked in a hurried silence until they got to the park. There was a nice little spot away from everything that had become his go to spot.

Once they were there he let her hand slip out of his as he plopped onto the ground and finally looked up at the beautiful star-filled sky above.

He mentally connected the constellations together and felt the world settle back into place. Or maybe it was just him that was settling.

“Danny I’m sorry for bringing up your weight. I wasn’t trying to pick on you.”

He sighed but couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sky just yet, “It’s fine.”

“Is someone picking on you at school about it?”

“Do we have to talk about this right now?”

“Are you going to let me talk about it later?”

“No.”

“Then now it is.”

He flopped back so he was lying down, “Fine. Yes, but it’s whatever. I don’t even care.”

“It sounded like you cared in the kitchen.”

He folded his arms and really didn’t like how easy it was for her to worm her way into his head like that. She was much too good at this whole shrink thing.

Or maybe she was psychic?

“I guess it’s just a little raw.”

“Did this happen today?”

It happened today, and yesterday, and every day since he made the mistake of letting Dash catch him changing for gym class. That had been a few weeks ago when he was still able to conceal how he looked with his oversized clothes, but that didn’t work anymore because they fit him now.

He was honestly surprised she hadn’t heard about all his new nicknames through the overactive rumor mill of the school. He had very quickly gone from ‘Tiny Puny Baby Fenton’ to ‘Fudgy-Pudgy Piggy Fenton’.

It didn’t help that he had a naturally upturned nose.

It didn’t stop him from feeling self-conscious anytime he laughed for fear that he might accidentally snort instead.

It’s not like he could just stop eating at school! Lunch was important.

He finally looked away from the sky and rolled over on his side. He didn’t want the stars to see him like this. Luckily the moon was already out of view behind the buildings downtown.

“Did you tell anyone?”

“Why bother?”

“Danny!”

He sat up and glared at her, “Do you know what happened the last time I tried to call Dash out? I got detention and told that Dash couldn’t get in trouble because he’s good at football. He gets a free pass because he can throw a ball!” He took as deep a breath as he could and dug his nails into the dirt, his fingers threading their way blindly between blades of grass as he tried to keep his powers from reacting to his heightened emotions, “And what do I get? I get shoved as far as he can cram me into my own locker! He used to be able to get all of me in there but now I don’t fit and that only makes him laugh at me more!”

She pulled him into a hug and it wasn’t until his face was pressed against her shoulder, did he realize he was crying.

He let go of the earth and let the dirt fall through his intangible fingers before he wrapped his arms around her.

He came out here to feel better, not to cry.

After a while, Danny started to feel less sorry for himself as he took comfort from his sister. He readjusted so his head was resting on her shoulder and they sat side by side.

They sat in a comfortable silence up until Jazz broke it.

“Danny?” she started. He just hummed in acknowledgment so she could continue. “What did you mean when you said you needed to be out here?”

“Until I can go up there myself, I want to be here to see it.”

“That’s not a need Danny, that’s just a want.”

He sat up and faced her, “What are you getting at?”

“You want to be an astronaut, you want to see the stars. That’s not the same as needing to. Saying you need it makes you sound a little obsessive.”

“Mom and Dad wanted to prove ghosts existed and they worked every day at it until they did it. You called them obsessive too!”

“Not a great comparison for your case Danny. They are obsessive.”

“Well, what do you want me to do then? Never come out here and enjoy this? Never come out and remind myself why I want what I want?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying?” And why are you saying it?

It’s not like there was anything she could do to change him. This was his Spark. If she tried to take his Spark…

He didn’t want to think about it.

“You just need to pull back a little is all. Yes, it’s nice to come out here and enjoy the view but you can’t do it so much that you end up sabotaging yourself.”

“I did pull back! I don’t come out every night and I don’t stay out as long anymore.”

“That’s a good start.”

“Oh my God, Jazz!” he stood up and dusted off his jeans, “If you’re going to be such a downer let’s just go home.”

“Danny,” she got up quickly as he started to walk back home. “You can’t just keep avoiding your problems.”

“I’m not avoiding my problems. I’m just avoiding you.” He said with a smirk as she caught up to him. “Besides, didn’t you say it’s not good to dwell on negative thoughts? I’m just keeping myself motivated with positive reinforcement.”

“Stargazing isn’t positive reinforcement.”

“It is if it makes me happy, so there,” he blew a raspberry at her for emphasis.

Maybe if he just told her about how Sparks worked she’d understand.

Of course, that would mean telling her his secret and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

Or if he’d ever be.

[emmavakarian-theirin]

The only people to be pissed at for dumping anthem are bioware themselves. They took a chance with it, pouring their best into it, neglecting ME:A, which resulted in MEA being an unplayable mess and generally much worse written than original trilogy, and lack of experience made anthem a very shitty destiny clone. They gambled, and they lost. Now they try to do belated damage control with Legendary edition, hoping that new Dragon Age will save the day. Sure wish it would...

i'm sick of arguing especially now when it's dead but okay

first of all, you're comparing andromeda, a singular VERY MUCH PLAYABLE game that's clearly meant to have more to it and is just scratching the surface of plots to come, to an entire trilogy where everything has been fleshed out, which is unfair on many levels. of course it's not going to have the same level of writing. and i know a popular opinion is ME1 alone sucks and that ME3 is bad but it works better when the 3 games are available to you, doesn't it?

second, everything that was wrong with andromeda was blamed on anthem when people were already biased about it for not being about shepard to begin with, like it took away from the franchise and therefore not being mass effect. and going even FURTHER back, dragon age got blamed for mass effects faults and vice versa. both andromeda and anthem were doomed from the beginning. with that being said:

third, you can't pretend unnecessarily brutal backlash or even EA has nothing to do with it. i remember a staff member - who was the wrong staff member - being sent death threats over facial animation in andromeda to the point where the devs had to step in; like that wouldn't affect anything. i'm reminded of this post that talks about fan response better than i can because i'm not full of knowledge of how game companies and it's publishers/developers work but i'm fairly certain everything that happened was not bioware's own decision.

people have been saying bioware is dead after every game that's come out in the last 10 years. whatever happens now to bioware isn't solely because of anthem or andromeda, and we can't control either company but if we want bioware to live then we need to let them live.

i'm not saying these games didn't have problems but damn must a game be flawless and groundbreaking in order to be entertaining and fill its purpose?

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive- Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 10- The White Violin Part 2

Summary: After a less then stellar time at the bowling alley, you and the Hargreeves must find a way to stop Vanya during her concert tonight, doing whatever it takes.

Masterlist - where all the other chapters are⚔️

Warning: Reader gets stabby again, enjoy

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

Maneuvering your way out of the ball gutter area, you stumble a bit while getting out, a steady pair of hands catching your waist before you can face plant into the concrete. “Y/N, you cant keep falling for me in front of my family, it’s getting embarrassing.” Quips Diego breathlessly, lifting you up to face him, “Hilarious.” You deadpan, pulling away and readjusting your blood spotted jacket. His face shifts to that of a concerned boyfriend in an instant, “You were shot...look...a bloody hole in your thigh.” He says pointing towards the damage, you feel the fabric of your black jeans. The small hole is indeed wet with your blood, you let out a snort, you never even felt it. “Huh..the bullet must have went straight through. Didn’t even know.” You whisper, shaking your head, how you managed to completely ignore the shot, still surprises you, but now is not the time to think about it.

“Shit! We gotta go!” You tell Diego as you start jogging down the hallway towards the exit. He follows close behind, as more bullets rickashay off the cement walls in the background.

——

It’s a short sprint to the Icarus Theater but fortunately the five of you make it. No personnel is waiting outside to take your tickets and the doors happen to be unlocked. Guess they weren’t expecting highly trained childhood superheroes to come barging into a theater to stop their sister from causing the apocalypse. It could have happened to anyone really.

You race up the marble staircase, the other Hargreeves rushing up behind you. The beautiful sounds of an orchestra are floating on the air and into your ears, you’d be thoroughly enjoying it, if not for the dire situation. Suddenly Allison puts a hand on Luther’s large chest, stopping him with what she just wrote down on her notepad. You halt in your tracks, Diego sidestepping you so he won’t crash into your back as he turns around as well. I need to go alone. Is what Allison wrote, Luther’s blinks in confusion, “Wha...Allison, I can’t let you do that, all right? She’s beyond reasoning.” He argues firmly, she stares at him defiantly.

“You hear the music? It’s started.” States Diego, implying everyone needs to hurry up and take action now. You can’t help yourself and snort, “Yeah...we got ears.” You whisper sarcastically, he just rolls his eyes at you while holding in a smile, probably not the best time to be a smart-ass but stressful situations and use of sarcasm is how you cope.

“Do you honestly think she’s gonna listen? After everything that’s happened?” Continues Luther, trying to reason with a pleading Allison who just wants to save Vanya from herself.

“We don’t have time for this.” Says Klaus nervously, Luther finally caves and off Allison goes, racing towards the doors to the concert. The four of you watch her bound up the carpeted steps, “You’re using her as a distraction, aren’t you?” Says Diego to Luther, already onto his plan.

“Our best chance to incapacitate Vanya.” Luther replies glancing at Diego. You cross your arms, “Maybe if we leave her alone she won’t do anything and after the concert we can sort this shit out. I highly doubt Vanya’s in the mood to see any one of us right now....Especially you, she hates you the most” You explain to them, Luther furrows his brow at you. “Thanks. But we can’t risk Vanya accidentally doing anything dangerous.” He tells you, you turn to him. “Now you sound like Reginald, great.” Luther gives you an offended look, before deciding otherwise in arguing further with you. He makes for the stairs, as Klaus follows behind, Diego nudging you to follow them. “So, what’s the plan?” Wonders Klaus, as Luther stops on the steps to answer him. “Uh, you wait out front.” He tells Klaus, as you and Diego walk through the open doorway, you don’t care enough to stick around and listen.

You follow Diego through hallways and finally you make it backstage, Luther appearing on the opposite side of you two from across the stage. “I’m just throwing leaves in the wind here, but how is this an honestly good plan?” You whisper yell at Diego, he stops to look at you, who’s to his left. Your face is glowing in the red stage lights, making you look like an alluring creature from another world, and for a second he’s lost in your beauty. You’ve unintentionally stunned him in the most inconvenient of places, his heart pounds with adrenaline. “Uh...um...it’s all we got.” He fumbles on his words, not truly sure what to say that would convince you. He already knows you’re not gun ho for this plan anyways, but what other options do you all have. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Or stupid measures thought up by a guy who’s half-monkey, never moved out of the Academy, and lived on the moon for four fucking years.

“God, she sounds amazing.” You mutter to no one in particular as you start to listen to Vanya’s solo, a second later Diego goes racing across the stage exactly when Luther does. “Wait! Diego, stop!” You yell at deaf ears, he’s already throwing himself at Vanya. She snaps around and whips a slash of white energy at him and Luther. Launching them into the screaming crowd, you make a break for it as the other instrumentalists stand up from their seating. She turns around once again to project another powerful wave of force into the orchestra, silently demanding them to sit. You’re unfortunately pushed roughly off stage, harshly tumbling into the theater chairs, you smack into a metal chair, falling to the floor with the wind knocked out of you. People rush past your injured body unaware to your gasping for breath, to concerned with getting the hell away from the weird glowing eyed lady on stage. You don’t blame them, none of them were clearly prepared for how their night just ended.

You stand up, hearing the shouts of Diego and Luther, as they attempt to direct traffic as orderly as possible. Within thirty more seconds the place is completely vacant, you dart for behind some chairs near where Diego and Luther are hiding. “She’s stronger than expected.” Breathes Diego, surprised from Vanya’s impressive display of power. “Yeah.” Agrees Luther, suddenly getting smacked in the face with Allison’s notepad. She throws him an agitated pout, you’re to her right, in the next row over. Shaking your head disapprovingly at him in a half-joking and half-serious way. “Yeah. We’re fine thanks for asking.” He jabs back before continuing, focusing on Allison, “Look, I almost lost you once, all right. I wasn’t about to lose you again.” He tells her earnestly. 

“Wow that’s real fucking adorable...but now we’re in a load of shit thanks to you two dunderheads.” You snap at him, annoyed with how rapidly the nights events are terribly going. Luther gives you a defeated look as Diego speaks up, “Well, so much for the element of surprise. What else you got?” He asks Luther, Allison starts to quickly make a gesture of her playing a ghost violin.

“No shit Allison. Tell us something we don’t already know.” Diego grumbles sarcastically, you roll your eyes at him. “She’s referring to the violin dipshit, we need to take it from her.” You sass back, the rest of them glancing over the seats to watch Vanya play. You catch the sound of boots quietly making contact with the red carpeting of the theater. Then a moment later, gunfire blasts through the area, screaming into your eardrums. “Fucking hell.” You mutter through clenched teeth as you hold your hands to your ears, ducking lower to the floor.

“What the hell happened to Klaus? He’s supposed to be lookout!” Shouts Diego from the floor. “Yeah are you surprised.” Answers Luther, who’s attempting to sink to the ground as low as he possibly can. When you look up again you watch as a sudden bright flash of blue appears from out of nowhere, less then a nanosecond later arrives Five.

“What’s with all the lollygagging?” He wonders while walking down the wide isle, completely oblivious to the masked murderers. “Five get down!” Roars Luther as bullets rain down next to Five. He lets out a surprised gasp as he quickly ducks in between the smaller isles. “Five...wha...I thought you bailed on us?” Questions Luther.

“I had an errand to run.” He vaguely explains, looking around wide eyed at the current carnage, “This is not good.”

“You know these guys?” Inquires Diego, assuming this mess has something to do with Five and the wack shit he gets himself into, not to mention the rest of you.

“Yeah, I do.” He simply says.

“And?”

“Well...we’re screwed.” Five announces worriedly, while looking back up the isle at the approaching assassins. He then turns his head to find you who’s watching the masked gunmen slowly walking your way. “Y/N! If you could manage to get one of their guns...then maybe we’d have a chance.” Yells Five as Diego throws some of his knives directly into the chests of more Commission assassins.

“Great idea! Cause I would love to get shot through my fucking scull!” You scream back, sarcasm dripping through every word. You’re fast, but unfortunately there are a grand multitude of guys with automatic rifles who could give two shits if you die or not. You’d make it to your guy, but you’d also be dead before you could do anything destructive, and getting shot is not a very pleasant feeling by any means. But before Five has time to reply with his own ounce of sarcasm, Klaus comes bursting through the theater doors yelling about seeing Cha-Cha and that she’s apparently coming to kill us. Or something along those lines, it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to hear as your ears are ringing with all this noise.

Scrunching up your eyes, you shake your head and cover your sensitive ears in a desperate attempt to collect your bearings once again. When you open your eyes ready to suck it up and take one for the team, you look over with wide eyes to the sight of ghost Ben, who’s releasing the tentacle monster from within himself and presently strangling and smashing the fuck out of the masked gunmen. You share a shocked glance with Diego, the both of you completely astounded as to how the hell Klaus is able to do whatever it is he’s currently doing.

Your nose catches the scent of something you’ve been hunting for the past week, head snapping to the stage, you scowl at the blooded assassin before you. Who’s giving you an equally nasty look that’s practically inviting you to take the bait. Without another thought, you stand up, racing down the wide isle to meet your foe. Ignoring the mumbled yells of Diego and the others, you’re solely focused on ending Cha-Cha once and for all. It takes you less then three seconds to reach her, before slamming her harshly into the cement wall at the back of the stage. She falls to the floor with a grunt, as you slowly walk over to her, eyeing up your prey like a she-wolf to an injured doe. She scrambles to pick herself up, jumping to her feet in an instant, fists clenched and ready to fight.

“You’re good at what you do, I’ll give you that.” You tell her casually, unawares to the fiery glow subconsciously emitting from your irises. She lets out a ragged cough, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion at your eyes color change.

“Yeah well, you’ll have your time to see how great I am at it, and then when I’m done with you, I’ll pay your boyfriend a little visit.” She snaps at you, her voice dripping with malice. You only chuckle at her sad attempt at holding any ground in the conversation.

“If I didn’t want you to suffer you’d be dead already...I’m not feeling particularly gracious this evening.” Your voice is calm and collected as you tilt your head to her, fully enjoying the growing fear emitting from her injured body, although she hides it well. “You’re already half dead. But I’ll oblige and see if you really do know how to kill someone who can’t be killed.” She bitterly sneers at you while you smirk at her, silently egging her on to do something. Your hopes answered as she lunges for you, it’s an easy dodge to the right, as you smash your fist into her left rib cage. She lets out a rasped breath at the sudden impact.

Cha-Cha turns around to let more fists fly violently in your direction, you bring your forearms up to block a hit to your left then your right, then your face and then to your vulnerable chest. You can tell she’s giving everything, as you’re just toying with her. Your fight turns into that of a dance, the both of you throwing jabs at each other as you waltz around the backstage of the Icarus Theater. Her foot cracks you in the side of your knee, sending a white hot pain throughout your body, as you drop to the floor from the sudden jolting impact. She then laughs while taking this golden opportunity to kick you savagely in the stomach. Your vision goes spotty as she beats into you, until you look up to find Diego, watching the two of you from the stage. That’s all the motivation you need, before reaching out your hand to promptly halt anymore of Cha-Cha’s violent advances.

You pull her down, letting go as you stand up to face her once again, a single red trickle of blood painting down the corner of your mouth. When she stands up to launch herself at you, you swing your leg up, effectively smashing her across the head. She stumbles to the floor, dazed at your quick attack. Your steps are fast, as your fists are on her once again, laying into her with all your pent up emotions, finally gushing out in an array of violent brutality. She’s underneath you, desperately holding her arms up to help cover her already bruised face.

You’re screaming with rage and anguish for your fallen friend Patch and everyone else who’s ever needlessly died at the hands of Cha-Cha. Your fists are raw and covered in blood as you rip open her jacket sleeves with each new hit, making way into her bloody arms and face. You don’t notice the tears streaming down your face, when a hand suddenly touches your shoulder. Your head whipping to the side, staring daggers at whoever dare stop you. It’s Diego, he looks at you with sad eyes, staring deep into your glowing orbs of hellfire. He shakes his head while giving you a pleading look, beckoning you to stop your vicious tirade on Cha-Cha and to follow him. You look back down at her through your bleary eyes, blood and purpled flesh adorning her miserable features as she slowly lets in and out shallowed breaths from her pathetic spot on the floor.

You raise yourself off of her, standing defiantly above her like a tired warrior after a long battle. She opens one eye to look pitifully up at your blood spotted face. You step to the side to then glare down at her, your burning eyes meeting her wretched grimace.

“Get up.”

The corners of her lips curl into a wicked grin, as she lets out a strained wheeze, her last attempt at a comprehensible laugh. To your great astonishment, Cha-Cha begins to begrudgingly peel her bloodied body off of the cement floor. Bringing herself onto her knees then to her feet, she’s breathing heavily and swaying slightly, dizzy from the ferocious beating you just gave her. She spits out a wad of blood as her good eye glances over to Diego, who hasn’t moved a muscle, praying that he’ll make you follow him and leave her in peace. You look from Diego then back to Cha-Cha, your face a mask of stone.

“Patch wouldn’t want me to kill you...you know. She’d tell me something wise and how we can be good, even when we are full of hate and rage towards the ones who’ve wronged us.” More tears fall from your conflicted face, running down to your chin as hot and angry little droplets, “I liked her...she was nice and smart, believed in people and was good at her job.....she was my friend...Eudora didn’t deserve a bullet through her chest, but you killed her anyways. Just like all the others.” Cha-Cha opens up her arms, giving you a defeated shrug, she has nothing else to say to you. You give her a weary nod, as Diego comes up to your side, touching your arm in an attempt at leading you away.

“I wish I could be like her...but I’m not.” You whisper truthfully, pulling out a spare dagger from Diego’s leather knife vest, only to plunge it directly into Cha-Cha’s windpipe. Her eyes shoot open at the sudden impact, her hands reaching up to try and pull you away. But your arm’s to quick, you pull the silver blade out of her neck as blood spurts from the opened wound. She tries desperately to cover the damage, but her attempts are wasted as she falls to her knees in despair. You watch her stare on wide eyed at your unflinching form, while she abruptly falls to the cold ground. Bleeding out before your very eyes, your emotions are all over the place and you feel like you’re about to cry or scream or both everything building up and up and up. Diego turns your shoulder to face him, “Y/N we gotta go save the world. Babe are you with me?” He tells you quietly, looking deeply into your tearfully glowing eyes. You part your lips, about to say something but nothing comes out but a heavy stressed huff of air. You’re not entirely sure if you’re about to lose it or not, you’re angry over Patch’s death, you just killed Cha-Cha, and the apocalypse is supposed to happen very soon. Wiping out your whole world, the Hargreeves, and Diego. The one person you can trust with your life, and the one person you’ve loved since you were a teenager. Honestly the only person you’ve ever truly loved.

“I’m with you. Ride or die remember.” You reply, wiping the wetness from your face and giving him back his knife. He gives you a lopsided smile, taking your shaking hand and swiftly leading you to the others.

——

“Oh, welcome back. Where were you two?” Questions Luther, the rest of the Hargreeves closely positioned around him, all of them watching as you and Diego walk closer into the group circle.

“Murder.” You answer bluntly. He makes a confused facial expression and nods, not sure what that was implying but then again with you, he doesn’t really wanna know.

“So how do you wanna end this thing?” Shouts Diego over the roaring sounds of white energy and Vanya’s violin playing.

“We surround her. All right? We come at her from all angles.” Instructs Luther as the rest of you lean in to hear better.

“So it’s a suicide mission.” Whispers Klaus sadly.

“Yeah, but one of us could get through. It’s the only chance we’ve got.” States Five setting up the actual plan, well at least the best one the group could come up with. Either way, things aren’t looking good whatsoever and you’re not 100% certain if you’ll actually survive.

“Are we all in?” Says Luther while glancing around the six of you. All of you nod as he continues to lead, pointing to Diego first, “Stage left.” Then to himself, “Stage right.”

“Allison?”

Diego turns around to race up the isle as Luther focuses his attention on the rest of you, “You guys take the front.” With everything to lose you leave Luther and Allison as you run through the smaller isles next to Klaus and Five, your heartbeat pounding with adrenaline and fear. While Klaus takes the left corner of the chairs and Five takes the right. You jump over a couple rows to bring your way to the front of the theater. Vanya plays on, oblivious to everything that’s going on around her, blissfully unaware in her moment of music and light. It hurts your sensitive ears and the pure light radiating from Vanya is no help either to your hyper-aware senses. You hear the yell or battle-cry of Luther instructing everyone to charge.

You don’t think twice as you jump to your feet, launching yourself over the edge of the stage and bracing yourself for impact when you take out Vanya. Everything happens so fast, a second later you feel like you’re being blinded as the floor and your boots appear to not be making contact anymore. Unless you were just teleported to a zero gravity room, things aren’t adding up. When you squint open your eyes once again, you’re surprised to find yourself and everyone else suspended in midair by Vanya’s energy tentacles. You’re placed in the center with the Hargreeves boys to your left and right. Their faces seem to contort into a pained expression as you notice how Vanya’s sucking their life force from each of you. But due to your rapid healing abilities it’s not affecting you as terribly, it feels like the wind is constantly being knocked out of you and it’s getting harder to breath by the second. Without warning you hear a piercing blast scream through the air, whatever it was, stopping Vanya from hurting you anymore.

The moment of peace short lived as you’re dropped to the thinly carpeted floor. You jolt to your feet once again as everyone races onto the stage to make sure Vanya and Allison are okay.

“Is she alive?” Rushes Luther worriedly as Allison holds an unconscious Vanya in her arms, the rest of you looking on in deep concern while Allison answers with a quick nod much to everyone’s relief. That and the normal rhythmic thumping of her heartbeat a solid indicator of her aliveness, not that they would be able to hear it though.

“We did it. We saved the world.” Smiles Luther with a relieved sigh, the others doing the same. Your stomach twists with the horrid sounds of something breaking from far away. You can’t place where it’s coming from until you turn your head to look up through the glass-less open theater dome. Your eyes widen at the bewildering sight of scattered pieces of the Moon racing towards earth. You slowly rise to your feet, Klaus catching your odd change in behavior, he turns to stand as well. His eyebrows raising in surprise, “Um. Guys? You see that big Moon rock coming towards us?” Asks Klaus, just making sure everyone’s on the same page.

“That’s not good.” States Luther matter-of-factly.

“So this is it, huh. So much for...saving the world.” Sighs Klaus sadly as he looks down at his dog-tags with longing and fond memories. Everyone is standing by now, except for Vanya and Allison who are still seated on the stage floor.

“If only Sir Reginald could see us right now, huh? The Umbrella Academy. A total failure.” Mutters Diego with a defeated tinge to his voice, you look over at him and then back at the destroyed Moon.

“I guess now I can finally see what it’s really like on the other side.” Diego turns his head to look at you, reaching his hand out for you to take, you interlock your fingers together as you smile at him sadly, “I hope it’s nice.”

“At least we’re together at the end. As a family.” Adds Luther, gaining the attention of Five.

“This doesn’t have to be the end.”

The four of you turn around to face him with equally confused faces, all of you doubtful in whatever Five’s about to tell you. “What? What are you saying, Five?”

“I think I have a way outta here. But you gotta trust me in this.” He pleads as Diego, Klaus, and Luther shake their heads and practically shrug him off, all of them extremely skeptical. “Well, then, we might as well accept our fate, because in less then a minute, we’re gonna be vaporized.”

“What do ya got Five. Cause if I’m being honest I don’t really have dying by flaming Moon chunks on my bucket list.” He looks at you with a new found determination and slight relief that someone is willing to listen. “We use my ability to time travel. But this time, I’ll take you all with me.”

“You can do that?” Wonders Diego.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

“You’re lookin’ at it. A 58-year-old man inside a child’s body, so there’s that.” Scoffs Five, still annoyed with how things turned out for him.

“Oh, what the hell? I’m in. You in Y/N?” Asks Diego while giving your hand a light squeeze.

“Let’s do this.”

“Yeah whatever. I’m in.” Adds Klaus.

“Me too. Allison?” Says Luther while looking down at Allison for an answer, she shakes her head in agreeance, it appears everyone’s on the same page, even Ben.

“Okay great. Luther, grab Vanya.” Instructs Five as the seven of you gather into a circle.

“Wait, should we be taking her? I mean, if she’s the cause of the apocalypse. Isn’t that like taking a bomb with us?”

“The apocalypse will always happen, and Vanya will always be the cause, unless we take her with us and fix her.” Explains Five to an unsure Luther, the rest of you nod in understanding.

“No man left behind. Now Five get us the fuck outta here.” You quickly add, as everyone joins together to hold hands while Five begins using his powers. Suddenly a bright blue light starts to appear right above everyone’s heads, indicating the opening of Five’s time portal. Diego squeezes your hand again, you returning the favor while giving him a hopeful smile.

“Ah.” Yells Five, working through the pain and exhaustion of bringing seven people into another decade or wherever you’re about to go. You can feel the tingling of electricity buzzing throughout the air as blue and white waves of energy begin surging all around you.

“Hold on! It’s gonna get messy!” He shouts over the loud wooshing sounds created by his time-traveling abilities, your own ears suffering along with it.

 You take one last glance at Diego before your vision is taken over by the incredibly blinding lights of the blue portal. You can’t hear anyone anymore and your whole body feels like it’s in a zero gravity room, you feel for Diego or Klaus’ hand but to your panic you can’t feel them anymore. A second later the portal opens up, giving you a good view of a nearby trash can and solid concrete down below you as you’re spit out of the sky in rapid succession. You suddenly can’t see the blue energy of the portal anymore or feel the electricity around you as you free-fall straight into some discarded trash.

[we-want-mini-mini]

Omg. I was reading this HC about the reason why Clark Kent always leaves the scene whenever Superman appears because he (Clark Kent) HATES Superman. Like, he keeps on making convoluted reasons as to why.

It goes even as far as Clark writing a cynical think piece about Superman and vigilantism and Lex Luthor coming across it and absolutely loving it.

Here’s the original post:

And, all of you know I have a prompt/oneshot which includes an OC who works for Lex Luthor (and knows all the Supervillian bullshit he pulls cause there technically from an alternate world where all the DC characters are just characters lmao).

Anyways, in said prompt Lia also lives next to Clark Kent because I find it beyond funny that she is essentially the right hand to her next door neighbors arch nemesis.

And like, I imgained that one day, Luthor brings up the fact he really likes this one writer from the Daily Planet. Lia, who is understandably curious, asks her employer who that writer is.

Luthor says, with a straight face: “Clark Kent.”

For a moment Lia just stares at Luthor, fighting off a smile, while her shoulders shake like it’s a 9 point O earthquake on the Ricther Magnitude scale. Luthor shoots her a look, but Lia turns away, slapping her hand her mouth trying not to brust out laughing. After a little bit she does, but when she turns around, Luthor gives her another look and she knows she has to come up with a good excuse.

Her brain short circuits and she blurts out, “I think he’s my next door neighbor.” And immediately she regrets ever existing. She wants her entire being to cease to exist, from the very last atom.

A flash of surprise goes through Luthor’s face, as he asks her, “Oh? Is that so?”

“I mean, I think,” Lia adds smoothly, her brain on overdrive. “They share the same name but I’ve never seen a picture of Clark Kent from the Daily Planet, so, I can’t be sure that my neighbor and the one from the Daily Planet are the same person.” She said, lying straight through her teeth. She knows that Clark Kent her Neighbor and Clark Kent a reporter from the Daily Planet, are in fact, the same person. But Luthor does not need to know that.

Fortunately, Luthor drops the topic and asks Lia about some other shit. Internally, it feels as if the weight of the sky itself was lifted off her shoulders.

Unfortunately, a couple weeks later, at a Gala were Lia is with Luthor, a familiar, mop of black hair (just slightly curled at the end), striking (almost alien) blue eyes and the iconic thick, black times glasses make their way towards them. Lia, of course, only notices too late because the universe despises her and Clark, introduces himself, while recognizing that his next door neighbor is next too his arch nemesis.

Him (Clark) not noticing the growing panic and despair on his neighbors face, immediately calls out to her saying, “Lia?” in a surprised voice.

Lia, knowing how throughly fucked she is, knowing she can’t BS her way out of his, and that her lips never wait for her brain to catch says, “Clark??”

(Pretend that in this version of the prompt/oneshot Clark never found out that his next door neighbor is esstentially the right hand to his arch nemesis).

Cue a very awkward and tense conversation (at least for Lia) between the trio. Luthor being pleasantly surprised and a bit suspicious but he brushes it off, leaving it later to ponder. Clark, is absolutely floored but he has his job too do, so he does it. He’s lowkey kinda betrayed but can’t blame Lia because she’s just 23 and this sort of job is a dream come true for most and he (assumes) that Lia does not know anything abt the whole Lex Luthor is a Raging Supervillian and Also Superman’s (which is Me) Arch Nemesis. Lia, throughout the convo, recovers (externally), and answers Clark’s questions with ease. Internally, she’s slowly dying in the inside, mentally preparing herself for the questions Luthor with undoubtedly ask later. Lia wants the Rapture itself to commence so she could just avoid all of this bull shit. She does not avoid all of this bull shit. 

Anyways, after that whole debacle, Luthor leaves with a greater respect for the man (he found him very competent and also very pleasing to the eye). Clark is... conflicted but he does what he does and maintains his rep of hating Supes. Lia is just. Done and Dying. She can’t. She honestly can’t. But she muscles through and awaits for Luthor to do whatever Luthor does best. She’s surprised when she sees her employer (whose a Supervillian and hates Superman) look at Clark with a look in his eyes (it isn’t annoyance, indifference, or anything like that... it’s... holy shit, is Luthor checking Clark’s ass out???? Oh. My. God. This is. Honest to God, the best and worst thing I’ve ever seen. Oh my god. I want to cry. And laugh. Holy fuck. What the shit is even happening anymore?). Safe to say, from then on, Clark gets sent to LexCorp to take interviews for Luthor and stuff. Luthor, grows to develop a deeper interest for Clark (all in the view for Lia).

Hell, at one point he admits it. And asks Lia what Clark’s favorite type of flower is. Lia, is floored. She wants to laugh. And cry. She manages to say, with a straight face and even voice, “I’m not sure, Mr. Luthor.” She has to bite her lip at the true and unbridled irony of the whole situation. Oh my god. Enemies to Lovers. Slow burn. One sided pinning. Denial. Oh my god. Oh. My. God. I’m watching fanfic play out right before my eyes. Holy shit.

Like, I can’t stop laughing at the irony of the situation. Imgaine for a sec being in Lia’s shoe. Like. Your the EA to a very powerful person, who happens to be a raging Supervillian. You know this cause reasons. You also happen to live next door to your boss’s arch nemesis. Then due to a series of events, your boss slowly starts to fall for his arch nemesis’s civilian identity. You’re watching this shit. In real time. Fucking imgaine that yo. Absolute fucking gold. Like. Holy shit.

Also, this still could work (without my OC present). Like, in a world where everything is the same aside from the HC that Clark is known to not like Superman and Lex immediately takes a liking to Clark. Say Clark goes to a gala and meets Luthor. Now he has to keep up the rep that he Does Not Like Superman (while he Is Superman). Luthor becomes interested after Clark interviews him. He also checks out Clark’s ass because yeah. Then, Clark does more interviews for LexCorp. Luthor develops a deeper interest in Clark. He even asked Clark out on a date. Imgaine being Clark. Your arch fucking nemesis (whose a raging Supervillian) just asked you out (without knowing you’re the same person they hate). Enemies to Lovers but it’s one sided in the sense that one of them doesn’t know that the other is their arch nemesis jaksjsjsksksksoskks

IMGAINE THO. SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE A FIC ABT THE PROMPT ABOVE AND FUCKING TAGGING ME SKSJDJXJSJDJJDJ

[queerebrum]

Something Always Brings Me Back To You | Chris Argent x Derek Hale | Soulmate AU | 3.3k | Complete | Content Warnings: The general grief and mourning and life’s fuckery that goes with these two beautiful tragedies.

@lorrainebattaglia said: I’m not sure if you’re into soulmate AUs. But I like imagining that instead of being a weirdly tidy shitbag at that gas station (seriously, you washed his windows for intimidation?), that he realizes that this kid with the fuzzy affliction is his other half and it throws his entire life into a blender. Double angst points if for wolves it’s a scent thing and the reason Derek got snared by Kate is because of Chris’ scent on her

Which was an absolutely amazing prompt!! I hope I did it justice!! AO3 LINK!

--

Chris gave up on finding his soulmate a long time ago.

He gave up when his 18th birthday came and went and he’d walk the halls of his high school (and his college dorm) and lock eyes with everyone and...nothing. No spark. No sudden, inexplicable knowledge that this, this was the person you were supposed to be with forever. Part of him had always wanted to find them, to find the person he was destined for.

But like the good soldier he was, he’d consented to an arranged marriage. They’d even had a daughter – the future Argent matriarch that Chris spent his adulthood keeping Gerard as far from as possible. He’d seen what his father had twisted Kate into. He didn’t want that for Allison.

So nearly two decades past the average age one meets their soulmate, the last thing Chris expected was to look into a pair of angry hazel eyes and feel it. Whatever Chris was going to say flew out of his mind. He froze. This young man, this werewolf was his soulmate.

A shocked expression flickered across Derek Hale’s face too, the werewolf’s nostrils flaring suddenly before his eyes flicked away from Chris’s towards the gas pump. In a low voice he said, “Honestly, at this point killing me would be the least awkward way to handle this situation, so if you could just get that over with quickly, I’d appreciate it.”

Chris couldn’t exactly blame Derek for expecting that to be the reason he was there. Him, and the six other hunters he’d brought with him for back up. Chris stayed silent for another long moment, trying to figure out exactly what a married man his age and a twenty-something werewolf did about a moments-old soulmate bond.

Clearing his throat he looked at the other hunters. “He’s all alone, I think I can manage him.”

“Mr. Argent –”

“You heard me.” He looked around at the hunters. “Go back to the house. If I need backup, I’ll be sure to call.”

Chris was sure that inevitably this choice would raise eyebrows with someone. Him sending his backup away? Leaving himself alone at a gas station, late at night with a werewolf just nights after bodies had started showing up? Unheard of. If anything happened to him, the men he’d just sent away could be killed for allowing it.

But, Chris was a soldier not a prince, no matter how Gerard tended to treat him.

When the other hunters had left – and Derek was done pumping his gas – Chris held up both of his hands and stepped towards the young man. “Two questions. I just need to ask you two questions and then if you never want to see me again, I’ll understand.”

Derek had his hands tucked into the pocket of his jacket, and turned to face Chris, his mouth pressed in a thin line. “Fine.”

“Are you the alpha?” It was a question that needed to be asked, though Chris had a feeling just from the way Derek held himself that that wasn’t the case. He didn’t seem like the kind of alpha that would be wreaking havoc. He seemed like a terrified young man.

“No.” Derek answered, eyes on the ground. “And don’t ask me to prove it.”

“That would be a waste of my second question,” Chris smiled. “Do you know who the alpha is?”

Derek shook his head. “I’m trying to figure it out too.”

Chris nodded. “Thank you for being honest.”

Derek sighed, his eyebrows drawn together, and he looked up finally, those hazel eyes - flecked with gold and green now that Chris was close enough to see them. “Can I ask you a question?”

Chris folded his hands in front of him. “Seems fair.” He studied the hunch of Derek’s shoulder, the way he kept his hands in his jacket, the hard set of his jaw.

“How are you related to Kate Argent?”

Chris frowned, his own brow furrowing at the question. “She’s my sister.”

Derek let out a long sigh and then nodded. “Got it. Thanks.” Without another word, Derek walked around to the drivers side of his car, glanced at Chris one last time, climbed in and drove away.

Chris didn’t know what to do with the information presented to him. He prided himself on his ability to compartmentalize, to keep his emotions out of decisions like this. And yet, as he watched the tail lights on the Camaro fade into the darkness, he couldn’t seem to figure out how he was supposed to go back to his life like everything was normal. LIke he hadn’t just run into his soulmate at a gas station.

He had so many more questions – how did Derek know Kate? What did Kate know about the Hales that she’d never mentioned? How much did his father know about the whole situation? How would Victoria react when – if – she found out?

He had more questions than answers.

And he wasn’t even sure if he wanted the answers.

--

Chris’s head was spinning. He was spinning and dangerously close to the kind of breakdown that hadn’t happened in years. He drove aimlessly around Beacon Hills, knowing exactly what – who – he was looking for but not sure where to begin to look.

He should be home. Home with his wife who’d been bitten by an alpha werewolf. Home with his daughter who in a matter of days would be losing her mother. Home keeping an eye on his father and trying to piece together how they were going to deal with the fact that one of his daughter’s classmates had been turned into a kanima.

Instead, he was alone, driving around Beacon Hills, following a tug in his chest because god damnit he deserved answers.

There was only one alpha werewolf in Beacon Hills at the moment. There was only one person who could have bitten Victoria, and Chris needed to understand why he’d done it.

He finally found the Camaro parked at an old rail depot, and pulled his SUV next to it. He rubbed at his eyes – stinging with unshed tears – before climbing out of it, pulling his gun from his holster before he walked into the building.

The depot was empty aside from Derek, who stepped out of one of the rail cars to stare at Chris in the near-dark. Chris wondered idly where the gaggle of teenagers Derek had also bitten were. Did they still have homes, have families to go back to? Or were they out terrorizing a town he was supposed to be protecting?

“You bit my wife,” was what spilled out of Chris’s mouth. There was an edge of hysteria to his voice. Confusion. Pain. He was closer to his own breaking point than he’d realized.

Derek leaned down to flick on a lamp and warm yellow light filled the dingy space. His arms crossed over his chest. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“I should kill you,” Chris laughed, bringing his free hand up to his mouth. He held the hand with the gun out, staring at it. “I should kill you right here for what you’ve done. It wouldn’t even break the code.”

“So why haven’t you?” Derek asked, eyeing the gun warily. That’s how they always were around each other. Wary. Nervous. Neither of them knew how the other thought or felt because they’re soulmates and they’re strangers.

“Tell me why. Tell me why my daughter deserves to grow up without a mother? Tell me what I did to deserve to lose her. She’s my wife Derek.”

“She was going to kill Scott.”

Derek’s tone was soft, sure, and so painfully truthful that it tore another hysterical laugh out of Chris’s throat. “What are you talking about?”

“Biting her was the only option I had. It was that, or kill her. I’m sorry, Chris. I didn’t do this to hurt you. I did this to save Scott.”

Chris slid his gun back into his holster before the shaking in his hands progressed far enough that he’d drop it. He folded both of his hands in front of his face, pressing his lips against his thumbs and looking over the tops of his hands at Derek. “She lied to me.”

Derek shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know what she told you. But, I’m not lying, Chris. You’d know it if I was.”

He would. He’d know because the bond in his chest that had led him to Derek would have told him. Chris felt unfamiliar tears prick in his eyes, hot and salty and foreign. His body was shaking and he was so unbelievably confused.

“Why would Victoria want to kill Scott? He hadn’t broken the code.”

“Y’know, I didn’t really stop to ask. But probably for the same reason your sister burned my family alive: because she felt like it.”

“Victoria isn’t Kate. She’s a good woman. A good mother.” Chris blinked rapidly to clear his vision, still staring at Derek. His instincts were screaming for him to turn away, hide his weakness, be anywhere but standing in front of an alpha werewolf in the middle of an emotional breakdown.

“I made a choice, Chris.” Derek’s voice had lost its disinterested edge. He’d stepped forward, head cocked to the side. “I made a choice between letting Scott die, or biting Victoria. I didn’t kill her. If she chooses to die instead of become a werewolf, that’s her decision. I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

Chris felt tears slip, hot and heavy. He finally broke his gaze, turning his back to Derek and wiping the tears away from his eyes. A million words flitted across his tongue; I don’t know what I’m going to do. Why is this happening? What did I do to deserve this? What did Allison do to deserve this?

A warm hand landed on his shoulder and Chris jumped but refused to react or turn. The hand felt like fire, the first real time Derek had ever touched him. It was nothing more than Derek’s palm resting on his shoulder, finger squeezing slightly, but it grounded him. Nothing made any more sense or felt any easier, but the tightness in Chris’s chest eased, and he felt himself draw in a shaky breath.

“I’m not sorry I did it.” Derek said, his hand still anchored on Chris’s shoulder, warm and real and a comfort. This was what it meant to have a soulmate. One touch from Derek felt more powerful than any time Victoria had touched him in almost 20 years of marriage. “I’d do it again. But I am sorry you’re hurting, Chris.”

Chris wasn’t sure what was worse: the fact that Derek wasn’t sorry, or the fact that Chris couldn’t bring himself to hate Derek for what he’d done.

--

Chris gripped the fence so hard his knuckles were white and the metal threatened to bite into the skin of his fingers. His knees felt weak, his heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. He tried to focus on breathing, on the simple in-out pattern, practiced and honed in hundreds of life or death situations.

In-2-3 out-2-3

Chris knew he had to keep himself together. He wanted to run to where Scott McCall sat holding his daughter’s body and see if there was any sign of life left, any chance that she could be alive. He wanted to hold Allison and tell her everything he’d never gotten the chance to. How proud he was of her. How amazing a person she was becoming. How he’d go through every painful part of his life over again just to have her in it.

And now she was gone.

Chris knew it in his heart. And Scott, as Allison’s soulmate, would have known best. Even without the banshee’s wail that had ripped through the night, the way Scott sat, numb and shell shocked, holding her body, told Chris everything he needed to know.

Chris was afraid that if he let go of the fence he’d go tumbling towards the ground. He was afraid he’d lose the carefully crafted persona of composure and competence. His daughter was gone. His wife was gone. He had nothing left to hold onto. Nothing left to live for, to fight for.

An arm, too warm to be human, wrapped around his chest from the back. A body, solid and real was suddenly right behind his. Chris knew instantly who it was and let out the shuddering breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He didn’t turn, didn’t dare take more than what Derek was freely giving, but he did lean back. He soaked in the heat of Derek’s body against the icy numbness of despair that was setting in.

“I’ve got you.” Derek’s other arm was wrapped firmly around Chris’s waist, Derek more than strong enough to keep Chris from falling to his knees with the gravity of his grief.

A lot had changed since that night at the gas station, where Derek had still been so lost in his own grief and anger Chris wasn’t even sure there was a whole person underneath the facade. A lot had changed since Chris had come to Derek begging for answers about biting Victoria. Derek was no longer an alpha. Chris no longer hunted. Now, he was a protector.

He was a protector and he’d failed to protect the person dearest to him.

Chris finally let go of the fence, his hands shaking as he cupped then over his face, drawing in long, uneven breaths. There was so much to do. They needed to figure out a cover story. He needed to coach the kids - Kira and Isaac and Scott – so that they didn’t reveal the supernatural. There were steps that needed to be taken before Chris could break.

But he took the moment Derek offered him. The moment of quiet understanding between two men who had collectively shared more loss than many would ever know. Chris let himself be comforted by Derek’s presence, by the warmth and the strength of his arms, by the quiet, even rhythm of his breath against Chris’s back.

When he was sure his knees wouldn’t go out from under him, Chris stepped forward gently. Derek’s arms fell away, though one of his hands rested on Chris’s hip, like Derek wasn’t quite sure that letting go was a great idea. (It was a terrible idea. Chris wanted to hide away in Derek’s embrace and pretend like he wasn’t facing the hardest situation of his entire life.)

“What can I do?” Derek asked softly.

Chris was afraid if he turned around, if he saw the softness, the genuine empathy in Derek’s eyes, he might break. “Stay close.” Chris said. “Please.”

The gentle brush of Derek’s thumb over Chris’s hipbone felt more intimate than a thousand kisses as the werewolf softly said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

--

Once the Nogitsune is gone, locked away in a wooden box carved by an emissary for an alpha werewolf whose spark no longer exists, Chris sat down at his kitchen table with the heavy realization that all he had left in this world was Derek Hale.

His soulmate. His perfect match. The person he was supposed to have spent his life with.

Derek had stayed close since Allison died, but Chris wasn’t the only person Derek had. Chris wasn’t jealous of that fact. He was thankful, really. Thankful that Derek had a pack who needed him, a pack who loved him. He had Scott and Isaac and Stiles and Lydia and Kira. And Derek had done his best as the pack elder to hold them all together through this storm of loss.

And they loved him for it.

They loved him in a way Chris wasn’t sure his shattered heart would ever be able to manage. They loved him in a way Chris wasn’t sure he deserved to love someone like Derek. Someone who made his mistakes and learned from them. Someone who had faced a life full of so much tragedy he nearly put Chris’s own to shame.

And yet, Chris looked up to hear the door open, and heard laughter – laughter – ringing through his otherwise empty apartment. Derek and Isaac stumbled through, laughing about whatever happened at the movie they’d gone to see. Isaac looked at Chris, flashed a small, grateful smile, and then excused himself.

“Movie was okay then?” Chris asked after a moment.

“Definitely not the worst one they’ve convinced me to go see,” Derek said, wandering towards the table and leaning against the corner next to where Chris sat. “Do anything exciting?”

“I finally ordered the postage.” Chris motioned to the jar that held the Nogitsune. “And reached out to a contact in France. They’re going to take care of it.”

“That’s good.” Derek smiled, small but genuine.

Chris felt the warmth, the comfort of having his soulmate near wash over him. He couldn’t stop himself from bringing his hand up and resting it against Derek’s hip. Derek’s all but lived at Chris’s apartment in the last few weeks. Staying close, being nearby for when things felt like too much. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Chris said quietly. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“It never gets easier,” Derek said. There was so much wisdom in what he said that it made Chris ache for the child Derek had once been. Had he ever known peace? “But I wouldn’t be here without people to rely on.”

“I’m sorry you got stuck with someone like me,” Chris admitted, running his thumb over Derek’s hip bone. “You deserve someone your own age, someone less broken.”

“That’s not how soulmates work. Besides.” A small chuckle escaped him. “I’m sort of broken myself.”

Chris stood up, shaking his head. “You still deserve so much better.”

“When I was 15, I had to mercy kill the girl I loved as she died from bite rejection.” Derek stepped closer to Chris, their bodies nearly touching, Derek’s hands at his side, brushing against the grip Chris still had on his hip. “When I was 16, I thought I found my soulmate. Turned out it was your sister, she just smelled like you. She burned my family alive.”

Chris looked away, letting his eyes fall closed. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop.” Derek said. One of his hands cupped Chris’s cheek, tilting his face back towards Derek’s own. “A few months ago I was manipulated by a dark druid masquerading as an English teacher. The details don’t matter but I can promise you this, Chris. You are what I deserve. You’re my mate. I may not have liked it, but I’ve never doubted it.”

They were so close that Chris could see the kaleidoscope of colors in Derek’s eyes. Their bond was singing with the truthfulness of his words and Chris was overwhelmed with the rightness of how the moment felt. “I don’t know if I can love you the way you deserve.” Chris whispered.

“You already do.” Derek said, leaning their foreheads together.

Chris let his eyes slip closed, let himself stand there in the moment, his daughter pushed to a corner of his mind as he reveled in being close with someone who made him feel whole despite the ragged edges and broken pieces. “Are you sure?” Chris asked, needing to know, needing one last confirmation that this was what Derek wanted. He wanted a broken old man with more skeletons than he had closets to put them in.

Derek didn’t reply with words, but the kiss he pressed to Chris’s lips was soft and sweet, genuine and giving. Somehow, despite the world's constant attempts to turn him into something sharp and dangerous, Derek had retained this softness, this capacity for love and forgiveness.

Chris stopped over thinking. He stopped thinking altogether. There would be time for that in the future. For now, he just leaned close, wrapped his arm around Derek’s waist and returned the kiss.

[needtherapy]

to be human is a haunting, Part 1

A love story for Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen

In a modern world, in a modern city that still has need for cultivators, Song Lan 

(war hero, rogue cultivator, orphan)

goes for a run in the park, kills a dankang, makes a friend, and meets a beautiful man with a dog, all before he has to go to therapy. It's the best day he's had in ten years.

Read more Kristina Writes Tiny Stories

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Read over on AO3 instead

Title from molly ofgeography’s song Runaway, Run

Rated E for Explicit sexy times, mild demon killing, and swearing.

Part 1

Song Lan wakes to the sound of screaming

 familiar

 too familiar

and he knows it is his own voice seconds

 long seconds

before he can snap his mouth closed around the last trailing sob.

The thrum of the city leaks back in, pushing past the roaring in his ears, and reminds him to ground himself. The clean white walls of the stark room around him. The feel of the bed underneath him, the smell of lemon dryer sheets, the glow of the neon light across the street. All known. All safe. He skips the taste of morning breath.

If he could remember the nightmares, the exact details, maybe he’d tell his therapist. It would at least give them something to talk about instead of the silent hour he wastes twice a week now.

No. That’s a lie. He knows what’s in them. He still wouldn’t talk about it.

The clock by his bed claims it’s 5:04 am, a fairly reasonable time to be awake, so he gets up. May as well get his run over with.

— ⚔ —

“Do you run every day,” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan nods.

Dr. Wen writes something down.

“Do you enjoy running?” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan nods.

Dr. Wen writes something down.

“Why do you enjoy it?” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan shrugs.

Dr. Wen writes something down.

— ⚔ —

Song Lan doesn’t really enjoy running any more than he enjoys digesting food. But it’s too ingrained in him now, the rhythm of air and feet and arms. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to. It is the anchor of his day.

Ten miles covers a lot of the city, and as familiar as it is, as long as he’s lived and run here, it looks different every morning, like noticing a light freckle on the back of his wrist. When it’s cloudless before dawn like today, he runs down the lakeshore path to watch the sunrise at the halfway mark. On cue, with all the fanfare and flourish of a seasoned professional, at 6:17 am, the sun erupts in yellow and pink over the horizon and turns the water to diamonds. It looks like magic every time.

This he loves and doesn’t have to lie about.

Song Lan is two miles from his place, running through the park, when the skin on the back of his neck prickles, and he slows his pace. Is it a hundred yards away? Maybe closer? He opens his mind and sends out a questing wave of qi from his core. He doesn’t know if he needs to draw the sword strapped to his back yet. There’s no one else around. Maybe whatever it is will just...mind its own business.

He doesn’t hunt anymore, not actively, but he still runs with his sword. It’s just habit, probably. He would feel incomplete without Fuxue’s weight between his shoulder blades. And even if he doesn’t go looking for danger, danger is often waiting.

Without warning, an enormous dankang explodes from the bushes by the running path and careens toward him. The green pelt that had camouflaged it glows in the early morning light, and Song Lan is swinging Fuxue almost before the sword is even in his hand. The boar roars in a very un-pig-like way, and he idly wonders, as the blade cuts into the demon’s hide, what the taxonomic difference between dankang and pigs is. Are they different families? Orders? Or is there some divergence further back? It squeals in pain but doesn’t give up the attack, changing direction mid-stride and flashing wicked yellow tusks at him.

It takes six strikes to kill the monster. He always counts. The counting, like the running, is an integral part of him. One downward hack. One thrust to the shoulder. One spinning jab in the dankang’s ribs. Two upward slashes. One strike in the throat and the beast is dead.

Song Lan texts the Nie cleanup crew his coordinates and takes a thin cloth from his pocket to wipe the blood off of Fuxue, dropping it on to the body when he’s done. He’ll clean the sword properly when he gets back.

“Six strikes,” a voice says from behind him, and he whirls, surprised to be surprised. “Was it luck, or are you really that good?”

There’s a man in a long trench coat standing on the path with a dog sitting next to him. The dog is one of those scruffy brown mutts that would be completely ordinary in every way except it looks far too clever to be a dog. It cocks its head and one floppy ear flips inside out.

The man is backlit by a golden ray of sun

 not ordinary

 in no way ordinary

and Song Lan can’t see his features clearly enough, not from this distance

 a hundred and thirty-three feet

 wind from the east

but it looks like he might be carrying a sword.

— ⚔ —

Sometimes in therapy, Song Lan counts the holes in the acoustical ceiling tiles.

Sometimes he counts the colored pencils on Dr. Wen’s desk.

Sometimes he counts the number of times Dr. Wen spins his pen in his fingers, waiting for Song Lan to answer a question. Any question.

— ⚔ —

Song Lan counts to seven before he answers, the numbers slowing his heartbeat.

“It was one more than last time.”

The man laughs, a bright chime of bells that wrinkles his nose. The dog looks up at its master, and its mouth drops open in a doggy grin.

“Clearly a failure, then. I hope the next time I see you, you will have improved.”

Song Lan is distracted by his voice, deeper than he expects, more musical than he expects, and he’s acutely disappointed when the man turns and walks away, the dog at his heels. He’s almost overcome by the impulse to call the man back, just so he can see his face again, so he can decide if it’s real or not.

“I’m here every day at 7 am,” the man calls over his shoulder before he disappears around a corner. Or maybe he disappears into a beam of light. Song Lan can easily believe either.

He takes one step to follow, and then realizes what he’s doing. It’s ridiculous. He takes a second step anyway. But a woman is suddenly at his elbow, handing him a clipboard, asking for his ID and signature. He has no idea how the cleaners got there so fast.

“I haven’t seen a dankang in this park before, have you?” the woman asks.

Song Lan shakes his head.

“Yeah, they usually prefer the suburbs. More hedge rows,” she says, and Song Lan isn’t sure if this requires an answer, so he doesn’t.

She takes the clipboard when he’s finished and peers at it. “Oh, I should have known. You’re the silent rogue—not technically a hunter, but still has more kills than most of the competitive cultivators? Wild!”

Silent rogue, he wonders. As opposed to what?

The woman hands him a card as her team finishes loading the demon into a step van.

“Luo Qingyang. Call me directly next time. I have an office competition to win.” She winks at him and saunters away.

By the time Song Lan gets to the corner where the man disappeared, there’s only cars and pedestrians and noise, and it’s 7:30 am. He has somewhere to be at 9 am, and he doesn’t want to be asked why he’s late.

— ⚔ —

“Dankang?” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan’s eyes flinch, glancing up in confusion.

“Well, that was almost an answer,” Dr. Wen says cheerfully.

Song Lan frowns.

“If you want to know, you’re going to have to ask,” Dr. Wen says, eyebrows raised in what might almost be a challenge.

Song Lan doesn’t care. He really doesn’t.

“How did you know?” his voice says anyway, low and soft. Maybe no one heard the question, and Song Lan can pretend it didn’t happen.

To his credit, Dr. Wen doesn’t gloat, but he smiles. Song Lan suspects he’s not going to be able to stay silent forever after all.

— ⚔ —

Song Lan takes a shower after therapy, not only to wash the tattling green dankang fur out of his hair, but scalding enough to burn the words off his skin.

 I’m here every day at 7 am

Is he really going to feel like he is fluttering at the end of a rope for the next twenty hours

 twenty hours and seventeen minutes

until tomorrow’s 7 am?

Evidently, yes. The shower doesn’t shake the man’s voice loose from his thoughts. Neither does lunch, the library, an episode of a cooking show in a tent, weights, two more episodes of the show—whatever a kouign amann is, he wants one—and sixty pages of Dune. He doesn’t even bother trying to work.

Song Lan makes a salad for dinner, neatly arranging paper-thin slices of carrot, cucumber, jicama, apple, and red onion on a bed of dark green leaves and half a chicken breast. He likes salads that are more toppings than lettuce, so he throws almond slivers and cranberries in his bowl too. “Love yourself enough to make a salad,” is practically the only thing he’s learned in therapy. He’s not sure about loving himself, but he’s pretty fond of salad.

He takes his meds before bed, turns on the white noise, and for once, falls asleep before the world spins into a new day.

— ⚔ —

“Do you blame yourself?”

Song Lan keeps on the blank face he’s so familiar with and stares over Dr. Wen’s shoulder at the photograph of three black cats sitting in a window.

“If you don’t blame yourself, who do you blame?”

Song Lan does not narrow his eyes. Or maybe he does, because Dr. Wen tips his head and gives him a piercing look.

“Even if you’d gotten there sooner, Song Lan, what could you have done? Tell me one thing you could have done.” Dr. Wen almost sounds like he’s pleading.

What I should have done, he thinks. Die with them, he thinks.

— ⚔ —

The man is there at 7 am, sitting on a bench.

With the dog, who is also sitting on the bench.

And that face.

Oh, the face is worse, actually, because Song Lan can see it clearly now. The man smiles when he sees Song Lan, a curving, curling, invitation of a smile on a mouth that looks like a bow without an arrow. The angle of his cheekbones, the graceful lines that can’t fairly be called anything as mundane as dimples, make Song Lan wonder if the rumors of fae in this country are true. The man’s eyes tip up at the corners when he notes Song Lan’s inspection of him, and Song Lan stops moving, maybe stops breathing.

The dog sticks its wet nose in Song Lan’s hand, and he jerks back, staring down at the animal. He doesn’t like to be touched, even by animals, but he isn’t angry, just surprised. He’s just surprised. He can’t understand why he’s just surprised.

“She’s inviting you to sit,” the man says, laughter in his voice.

The dog snorts at Song Lan, a chuffing noise that sounds like she is laughing at him, too.

“Is she?” Song Lan asks, and the man grins

 an unfairly perfect expression of genes

and shakes his head.

“No. But I am. Will you join us?”

Song Lan sits on the bench on the other side of the dog.

“A-Qing, get on the ground like a normal dog,” the man scolds.

The dog harrumphs but stands, delicately sets her front feet on the ground one at a time and stretches her long body the rest of the way, as slowly as caninely possible. Song Lan feels the corner of his mouth twitch.

“I’m Xingchen,” the man says, his lips shifting to a different kind of smile, a tip of the hat friendly smile.

He is wearing a white sweater, a white scarf, baggy white pants, and his name is stardust. Of course it is. Song Lan wonders if it’s a real name or one he’s invented.

“No last name?” Song Lan asks, and the man laughs again. Song Lan can’t imagine what it must be like to have so much laughter bottled inside him. Even before the war, before the massacre that took everything from him, laughter was a precious commodity, not something anyone would squander in the park on a cloudy day with a man like him.

“If I tell you my last name, you’ll think I made it up,” Xingchen says, and it’s so close to Song Lan’s thoughts, he tips his head, realizing belatedly that he looks like the dog when he does it.

Xingchen’s face shifts to mischief, and Song Lan’s mouth feels dry, chasing a mirage in the desert, only to discover it’s real. “You tell me your first name, and I’ll tell you my last name,” Xingchen says.

“Zichen,” Song Lan says immediately, without thinking, without the capacity for thought. He backpedals. “No one calls me that anymore, though. I’m just Song Lan.”

He has not been anyone’s treasured child in three years. He only thinks of himself as the mist now. It’s easier to be insubstantial, just passing through, nothing to see here.

“Oh no, you must be Zichen. Precious child, treasured seed,” Xingchen says in a singsong voice like it’s a line from a song or a poem. “Song Zichen, I’m Xiao Xingchen. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Would you like to have breakfast? With us?”

Song Lan does think it’s a made up name now, but he could have said his name was Horsehead Nebula, and Song Lan would still say yes.

“Yes, thank you.”

Xingchen stands and a-Qing, who had been laying on her back in the grass, snaps to attention, dashing over to lean against his left leg, looking up at him with clear adoration.

It hadn’t been a sword.

It is a cane.

“Well?” Xingchen asks. “Are you coming? I’ll tell you about it on the way, if you like.”

Song Lan nods, and then answers out loud, in case the nod was stupid and thoughtless. “Yes.”

— ⚔ —

“Do you have friends?” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan frowns at the rude question, which inexplicably makes Dr. Wen grin.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he says. “How about this? Do you want friends, Song Lan?”

Song Lan doesn’t give an answer, but Dr. Wen seems to think he sees one anyway.

“Well. What are you planning to do about that?”

— ⚔ —

Xingchen says it’s not that interesting of a story. He is slowly going blind. There is nothing anyone can do, and everyone has tried. Surgery. Magic. Lasers. Everyone. Everything. He says a-Qing is helpful. He says he decided to learn to use the cane now, while he can still see a little. He says all of it like it doesn’t matter, and it is Song Lan who is numb with the pain of a loss that isn’t even his. That he didn’t even know about until five minutes ago.

Oh, and Xingchen says he does have a sword, actually, but it seemed like bad manners to bring it on a first date

 first date

 implying date

 implying subsequent dates

even if he hadn’t been entirely sure Song Lan would show up.

Breakfast is in a diner not much wider than a dead dankang, and they tuck into a booth in the back. A-Qing lays on Song Lan’s feet, and it still doesn’t bother him. She’s warm, and he thinks he likes the way it feels when she rolls on her side and sighs.

They order pancakes and a poached egg for a-Qing. He tells Song Lan that a-Qing came from a local shelter because there’s no requirement that service dogs be purebred, they just usually are. He says it’s just harder to pick mixed breed dogs who will be good service dogs, but he didn’t pick a-Qing, she picked him.

“She scaled an eight-foot chain link fence and sat at my heel as though she’d been in service her whole life,” he says with a laugh, reaching his foot to poke a-Qing on the belly and accidentally brushing Song Lan’s leg.

It is a very good thing, Song Lan thinks, that he is accustomed to hiding his reaction to being touched because the feel of Xiao Xingchen’s foot rubbing against his leg makes him suddenly, painfully, embarrassingly hard, and he can vividly recall what it was like to be a teenager in want of a very large notebook to hold in front of himself.

Song Lan rarely eats food he doesn’t make, even more rarely eats fluffy pancakes drenched in butter and syrup, and he has no idea why. They taste like heaven, and watching Xingchen eat is...an experience. He cuts his food precisely, examines every piece, and closes his eyes when he chews, as if each mouthful is a fine wine he plans to savor. He finishes in twenty bites.

“Is your name made up?” Song Lan finally can’t resist asking, and Xingchen shrugs.

“Aren’t all names?”

Song Lan snorts, almost a laugh. “Is it the name you were born with?”

“No one is born with a name, Zichen.” Xingchen sounds like he is very seriously and very patiently explaining why the sky is blue, and Song Lan wants to shake him.

But that makes Song Lan think about laying his fingers on Xingchen’s shoulders, caressing his skin, grazing his collarbone with his thumb, and he shudders, blinking for a heartbeat too long.

“It is my real name,” Xingchen says softly, touching the back of Song Lan’s hand tentatively, as though he understands it might not be welcome. It aches like a spark from an autumn campfire. “My mother is a bit of a hippie, and I was a beautiful baby.”

This time it is a laugh. A real laugh. He hasn’t laughed in so long, he forgot what it would sound like, how it would feel to vibrate through his chest, how it could turn to tears. He covers his eyes with his hand

 not the hand Xingchen is touching

and tries to turn back the choking gasp that catches in his throat and forces its way out.

Xingchen doesn’t ask, just holds Song Lan’s hand and waits.

“You are a beautiful adult,” Song Lan says, when he can swallow again, and Xingchen smiles.

“So are you. Although, I have no idea what you looked like as a baby. This could be a recent development. Maybe you were hideously ugly a year ago.”

Now he sounds like he’s teasing, and Song Lan looks at him. Xingchen’s head is propped on one hand, and his expression is both curious and evaluating.

“Would you like to come home with me?” Xingchen asks, threading his fingers through Song Lan’s as though it is completely natural, and somehow, it is. His fingers fit perfectly into the spaces between Song Lan’s. The flames that spill from his fingertips into Song Lan’s arm and flow through his blood whisper the answer.

It is the easiest thing in the world to give them voice and say yes.

Read Part 2 Here