#broken circle aftermath is fun

[avrorean]

@theshirallen. [ approval ] - ian volunteers to be the one to go into the Fade after connor in redcliffe ↳Approval memes (not accepting)

Nanna knows by heart now how many days it takes to travel from Redcliffe to the Tower; she had spent more than enough time practicing the route when she'd been hunched over a map with Alistair in clumsy attempts to parse out how to navigate it. But here, as she stood before the dais of the arl of Redcliffe with near a dozen mages standing at the ready, watching her for the signal to proceed, Nanna found she couldn't remember when exactly they'd gotten back. After that first night out of the Tower, everything had been a blur of footfalls and murmured reassurances to the group that followed her. Had the trip been slower this time? Had she slept? She wasn't sure. She still wasn't sure she was even awake right now.

"Nanna?" The soft voice broke through the white noise of her thoughts and the empty stare at the ritual site, similar if not the same as the Harrowing, to look at Ian. "You don't have to go back in the Fade. I can-"

"You needn't do that." Her tone was sharp and dull all at once, turning back only briefly to look at him without really looking. She watched him press his lips together, contemplating. From the corner of her eye, she saw Irving looking her over, sombre, but nodding. It was ready. The question to be asked was, was she? Nanna didn't think she wanted the answer.

"You are still recovering from..." The words stuck in her throat. They knew, they both knew, but Nanna couldn't say it. It was still too fresh, and if she let a single thought sit upon it, the emotional sticks holding back the dam of her grief would crumble and cripple her. They wouldn't be able to count on her. So she forced her eyes forward. She didn't need to wait, didn't need a second opinion, didn't need someone else to pick up her slack. She needed to do. She was fine. It was fine. What was one more demon to stare down with their hands in a mage? What was one more time lost in the fade? Nothing. Nothing.

Connor wouldn't be like the others in the bones of the Tower.

This one wouldn't die.

"I can endure the ritual, Ian. Thank you."

Nanna Disapproves (but will appreciate it later)

[ribbonsaikeaux]

The Aftermath

Faith and Julia smiled at each other adoringly; gently nuzzling each others' noses. Around them, doll parts are laid out and ready to inspect.

"This is so exciting!" Declaired Faith. "Our own little doll." She smiles dreamily, squeezing Julias' hand.

"Remember, we're taking turns on the parts okay?" Julia responds, returning the squeeze.

"I knooow." Faith says with a giggle. "You go first!"

So they started the building process. Julia picking out red hair and deciding on a peach collered tone for the plastic body; Faith picking out deep brown eyes and a cute little doll head with a button nose and slightly upturned lips. Satisfied, they placed the shell in the center of a ritual circle; sitting on either sidd and holding hands. The pair chanted, magic pulsing in the circle emiting a soft lavender light.

The doll blinked slowly, gently tilting its head; experimenting with the movements of its ball joints. Shakily, it stood, wobbling unsteadily for a moment before firmly planting its feet.

Faith tittered, clapping her hands excitedly while Julia leaned in and hugged the newly risen doll.

"Welcome to the world little Thread." She whispered in the dolls' ear.

"Thank you so much Misses!" Thread shouted jubilantly.

Time went on and the three started collecting memories. Days at the beach, picnics in the park, hiking through the forest, dinner with the witches' friends. Pictures taken and hung up or put on the mantel from all of their fun adventures. Everything was always so fun and loving. That is untill...

Thread looked up at Julia, fear growing in its eyes. The Misses were screaming at each other, but it couldnt understand why. The voices were too loud, the words too fast for it to understand.

"Misses, please stop!" It shouted in desperation.

Julia paused for a moment. "Go to your room Thread." She said in a low growling voice through gritted teeth.

"But Miss Julia it-" the doll was cut off as Julia grabbed its arm and drug it down the hall. The doll sobbed as it was dragged and tossed in its room, the sound of the door slamming echoing in its ears.

The yelling raged on outside Threads' door. Screaming and shattering and explosions threatening to rip its door from the hinges. The doll sobbed and cried; tears streaming down its face as curled into itself and rocked back and forth. Eventually, exhaustion overtook it and it fell asleep.

Thread stirred, its head pounding. There was silence in the house now. A very unsettling silence. It opened the door just a crack and peaked through it. Nothing. It slowly wandered out; taking halted steps down the hall out into the living room.

The scene was disastrous. Furniture was split in half, walls covered in scorch marks, shattered glass from broken picture frames and vases carpeted the floor. Almost all of the pictures of the three were ruined of destroyed, save one. Tears once again whelled in Threads eyes as it kneels down and picked up two halves of a picture of itself and its Misses. It was from the dinner they'd had to celebrate the first year of its Making. It was torn in a way that seperated itself and Miss Faith from Miss Julia.

Thread silently cried, hugging the halves to its chest as it wandered across the house, finding Faith in the Misses' bedroom.

Faith, whose face was red and stained with tears reached out her arms. Thread silently climbed into her lap and leaned against her chest.

"M-miss Faith? Wh-where's Miss Julia?" It asked through shuddering sobs.

"I dont know dear..." Faith replied, biting her lip to hold back her own sobs.

"Wh-when will sh-she be back?"

"I dont know dear..."

The two once again broke down crying in each others arms. Squeezing and clinging desperately to each other in their shared despair.

[ch1meraa]

A very heart-wrenching scene from an rp with a friend. Vic is being shown the footage of the aftermath of him being given an experimental drug by GHOST. Here’s the scene that inspired the drawing;

______

The reality of the situation hit Vic like cold water as his vision cleared, the ringing in his head died down, voices came into focus, as did everything else - including the blue-white light of the room he was in. Naturally, he looked down and began to struggle against his bonds, even despite that he had no strength left at all, his movements were violent enough that he broke one of the bonds holding him and further damaged one of his arms in the process.

“**Secure him, for fuck’s sake.**”” Lena spat at one of the masked scientists, who were clearly unfamiliar with the Cyborg. The next thing Vic felt was the strangest sensation he’d ever experienced in his life. With the push of a button, the cables in his head delivered targeted electrical signals into specific regions of his brain, completely paralysing his body from the neck down.

He blinked in shock, not even able to communicate the fear he was feeling as he could not move an inch. Victor was no coward though. He had experienced worse and he was not going to be broken easily. He regained his composure and wordlessly stared ahead as he heard them approach.

“…*’You’re looking well’*, Victor~” Lena mocked, reminding him of why she hated him so, as well as being as potently sarcastic as possible all in the space of one sentence. Vic looked deathly.

Silas didn’t seem to notice, he was too busy making note of what a shame it was going to be to *waste* such a weapon… He hardly noticed that Vic was even human at all.

“Such a feat of engineering and biomechanics~ I am pleased to meet you at last, Victor. Allow me to introduce myself briefly, I am Silas. See me and mine as ah, the clean-up crew. Don’t be alarmed, my men are well trained but nobody here is going to harm you.. That is, unless you *make* them want to harm you..”

Vic’s eyes narrowed under his brow, his jaw set and clenched as he simply stared ahead, allowing his eyes to close for a moment of intense frustration before finally turning his face toward the man who called himself Silas. He noticed Lena standing there and scoffed, allowing himself to grin as he laid his head back.

“…What’ll it be this time, Lena? What, pray tell, the fuck….” Vic lamented, almost deliriously with his voice cracking as he grinned at his pathetic, exhaustive situation.

He soon looked toward Silas as Lena circled around the bed, obviously taking her time for the sheer *fun* of seeing Victor so helpless.

“Silas, is it? Well Si, why don’t you hop up on my lap and *swivel*~ Then, you and your …heh, ‘boys’ here can show me how good of a ‘clean up crew’ you *really* are. Cunt.” Vic seethed out, the venom in his voice as cold as ice and sharper than frostbite. He coldly spat at Silas’s feet, getting him on his ever-so-shiny boots. He was fully beyond giving a fuck anymore at this point and went back to chuckling to himself.

Silas looked down at his boots, not expecting such spirit, but Lena was furious, as ever. If only she could find a way to *silence* that mouth of his…

She stormed over, closing the gap between herself and the scientist, grabbed him under his jaw and then back-handed him across the face as hard as she could.

“Now I have your attention, you *might* wanna shut the fuck up, because I’ve got a *cute* little video, you might wanna see.” Lena whispered to him, as she then turned her attention to the screen. She lifted the remote, it started playing ….the same scream he’d been hearing in his nightmares for days, the same fragments of the fight with Sky he’d also re-lived, were now playing before him in what looked like 4K…. His face changed in an instant as the sound made him jump, the piercing cries and now, *the footage* of what he did as well. Before Vic could even begin to process what he was seeing, his eyes were blinking tears that ran down his face as he watched and listened in abject terror.

____

Vic and Lena (C) me

Sky (C) Turtwap

[2346khith]

The night the black dragons found true fear (and the day Kabal's plan went into motion)

A man walks down the street until he gets approached by a group of arm men in an ally way. They had tattoos with a dagger being surrounded by two dragons on either side. Black Dragons. It's been a few years since they last made this city apart of their territory but since then they been quite busy, killing off politicians and extorting money off of the the innocent. They've been waging war with the police for years now neither side backing down but neither actually making any progress.That was until that one night. Every now and then a few goons will go out of their way to wander the streets looking for anybody to rob. Or kill. It didn't matter to them, only that they were having fun. That night a group of 15 of them were heavily drunk and wander around looking to pick a fight when they stumbled across that man.

Goon 1: Oi!! You there. They hell you doing out so late? Don't yah got a curfew.

The man didn't say anything.

Goon 2: Hey!! He talking to you yah bitch!! What are yah deaf?

Goon 3: Nah maybe he's some mute.

Goon 4: Hey tell yah what, you gives all yah got and maybe we won't kill you for this disrespect.

The man slowly turns around to show a rugged man with a stubbled beard, long silky black hair, eyes as blue as the sky with a long and deep looking scar on his right eye. Part Chinese, part Caucasian. His a lot more well physic than they expected having a bulky yet nimble build and a very tired yet feel to him.

The man: Look I had a long day. I had to take my sisters car to the shop in traffic, the grocery stores were crowded so I barely got anything and my niece has the flu. So I'll be the ones making the demand. Get out of the way and let me get home. And while you're at it quit your jobs so I don't have to run into you guys again. One of them scoffed.

Goon 5: Oooh look who thinks he all that!! Shame really you seem like a nice guy.

Goon 6: Not for me. I needed an excuse to break some bones.

The man: I see. Tell me though. Do you have any families? Anybody body to go home to.

Goon 7: What the... I'm mean Jeff got his dame back home. And Carl and Mark got a bunch of brats they always complain about.

He pointed to the three men, one looking afraid, one looking ashamed and one looking pissed.

The man sighed: Good to know.

Suddenly an Ice pillars appear hitting the three men launching them across the street. They're not dead though one of them might have a broken jaw but other wise there just unconscious.

Goon 6: What the...

But before he can complete what he was about to say he turned to see himself face to face at the man charging at him clearing the distance in record time. Behind him he held a giant great sword out of ice.

The man: Don't say I didn't give you the chance.

...

The next morning cops were everywhere at the site, staring agasp at the aftermath of carnage that was left behind. Bodies mutilated, torn from the waist, limbs stuffed and broken, eyes leek out of skulls with ice all around the area.

Cop 1: What the fu... how the hel... how is this possible?

Cop 2: Not sure... we tried interrogating the three survivors but they not sure what happen, extensive brain damage made it so they don't got any recollection of what happened that night.

Cop 1: Well what ever happened, I don't think it was an isolated event. We've been monitoring some members of interest for a while but they went mysteriously missing out of nowhere. Are undercover members only manage to get that they we're apparently on break but I don't believe it.

Cop 2: You think this has something to do with the disappearances?

Cop 1: Precisely. Wait what that.

The cop picks up a strange piece of meddle with a strange marking on it. It had an inverted triangle of it on top of a circle that had three circles cut out of it from where the point were.

Cop 2: Huh that kinda looks familia... wait that gives me an idea. I got some friends I can call up about this.

Cop 1: What do you mean frie... this is a private investiga...

Cop 2: Trust me I know what I'm doing.

Cop 1: Who the hell even are you?

Cop 2: Kurtis Stryker sir, NYPD finest.

Cop 1: Nyp... this isn't new y...

Kurtis: I transfered.

He walked away before the commanding officer could finish his sentence. On his way to his cruiser he began to text a number marked SF.

Kurtis: Sonya gonna love this. That or be extremely pissed.

...

Back at the Black Dragon based everyone is currently on edge hearing the news of of their own members being slaughtered by cattle. That is except for one member. The man was sitting at ,what was technically a personal bar for the Black Dragon, sipping on some cheap beer lost in thought. He had tannish skin, if you can see past all the burn marks, a messy mohawk wearing a respirator with multiple tubes tied to a pack. He was thinking about how much he hated here. How he wanted to get out of here. About how much he wanted to kill kano with his bare hands. How he wanted to go back to New York. To see Kurtis again. To be with him again. Just then another man sat at the bar. He was in a attire reminiscence of those a stereotypical cowboy, though more revealing and made out of leather, with a mask covering the lower half of his face. He grabs a glass and pours himself a glass of their good whiskey, chugging it down in one gulp.

Erron: Your taking the news pretty well.

Kabal: Nah just don't care that much. Didn't know the guys personally. You asked me they had it coming?

Erron: Oh I don't deny that they had it coming, I'm talking about the whole thing the ice in July. Surprised you ain't freaking out about it.

Kabal: I got super speed out of nowhere, you're an immortal cowboy, we got a guy who made of rocks who are bouncer and a cyborg for a boss. To be honest I stopped being surprised a long time ago.

Erron: Heh Fair. Still must be nice , a new challenge, somebody unexpected, somebody .... who might give you a helping hand at getting out.

Kabal eyes widen reaching for his hookswords before being stopped by Erron pointing a gun at his midsection.

Erron: I ain't going to give you know trouble.

Kabal: Says the guy point a gun at me.

Erron: Okay fair. But I want to help... in a sense.

Kabal: What do you mean...

Erron: Like I said things been boring around here lately, this could be pretty fun. And I'm just as sick of working under Kano as you are. So how bout after this drink we go searching a bit for that ice fellow.

Kabal: To get help or to pick a fight?

Erron: Why not both? So what do you say partner?

He raises a glass towards him. Kabal ponders for a bit, then sighs.

Kabal: Fine.

He clinks his bottle to Erron's.

Kabal: But if I get any sense your using me I'll rip your jaw and shove it down your throt.

Erron: Heh don't tempt me.

...

Also to just let you know I got the idea of Kabal and Erron leaving the Black dragon from @running-with-the-feels defection au. Please don't be mad at me.

...

Liang switches through the various channels on the tv until settling on a nature documentary on scorpions. He's never really used a tv before. I mean he watched stuff on a tv a while on missions and there was a monitor at the the Lin Kuei based but they just used that to play back missions. He stares at the screen thinking about his now that he's found his sister. It absolutely nothing like his old life in the Lin Kuei. I'm sure he would kill a few off black dragon members but that was of his own will now instead of the command of a grandmaster. Compared to that. Life been more tame, no harsh training, more opportunities for down, different experiences like zoos, and museums and other things. One hand it felt so wrong. He was a warrior, he shouldn't be contempt to live in such bliss. But on the other hand it felt right, like this was a life he should've had if it hadn't ben taken from him at such a young age. It like the he been finally handed something that belong to him but the something is holding him back from truly enjoying it. Just then a little girl with a stuffy nose and pjs clutching a blanket walks down the stairs and into the living room.

Frost: Morning Uncle Liang.

Liang: Morning Holly. (By the way Holly is the name I've given my version of frost) Shouldn't you be asleep still?

Frost: yeah but my stomach hurts too much.

Liang: Oh I'm sorry to hear that dear. Let me boil you some tea.

Frost: Ok. Can it at least have honey in it?

Liang: Let me check.

It's so alien to him. This domestic feeling, especially being an uncle. Even when he's been on missions he's never needed to be around children much less look out for one. Maybe things would have been different if he was raised by his mom. His... mom. Then he heres rthe fire alarm.

Liang: Oh shit the stove!!

He knock the kettle out of the way and and turning the stove completely off.

Liang: Ok, that was a close call.

Frost: Uhh... Uncle Liang...?

She points towards the kettle which had been severely dented.

Liang: Uhh... okay this maybe a weird question to ask a seven year old but do you know how to fix it this.

Frost: No but I think mom mentioned something about an antique shop down the road that fixes stuff.

Liang: Great your coming with me.

Frost:What why? Didn't say that I should be getting back to sleep.

Liang: You help me we'll get to watch your movie pick tonight.

They got dressed and headed out towards the old car that once belonged to his mother.

Frost: Hey uncle Liang. Me and mom always told you on how our lives were, why don't you tell us about your life.

Liang...Maybe some other time kay kiddo.

The entered the car and began to drove away. All while a man in yellow cloth and armor watches from the shadows with his pale white eyes.

...

And that was a scenario in my au but don't leave yet because I have something to share and a question for all of the three people who follow me.

If you haven't seen from my post a large some of Palestinian refugees have been messaging me asking for my help. Unfortunately I do not have either a bank account, a job or money to donate to so I've been just reblogging posts and asking people to donate to them or reblog the post themselves. However these post aren't very popular and thus don't get enough attention. I once thought I could just put a bunch of random tags underneath so it would reach more people but then I found out that would be consider as reaching so I stopped. So I'm proposing a solution to this. I would end up doing regular post about my interest, opinions, headcanons and aus but at the end of every post I would also advertise one or more of the people asking for donations and then ask people to either donate to those people or ask them to reblog their pin post to spread out the word. Now I've stated this before but I'm completely unexperienced towards the mechanic of tumblr and their policys so I do not know if this would go against anything. Hence why I'm asking all of you. Again I don't have the money available to help them so I need to find a different way.

Here are all the people who have asked me for donation. Please go to their blogs and donate if you can and if you're like me and you can't please reblog their pinned post to spread the word.

@familyetaf1234567

@hanehomed12345

@savesmahfamily

@yasermohammad

@maram-gaza @familygazaamal

@mohammedswierh2

@aboodalqedra-3

@mahaibrahim13

@hashemsamar

@aboodalqedra-2

@hamdialisstuff

@emily4pali

@alaakhaled00

@anasalshrofa

@mahmodjesy

@majedgh2

@noor678

@monashamali90

@ibrahimmo

@mohameddsaker

@ahmad-syam-blog

@abujaradfamilyfromgaza

@save-mohammed

@mahmoudayyad

@abdala1

@save-amal-family

@hala-blo

@joyfultidalwaveobject

@motazmohammed

@huda-yousef

@zainsami

@abood-gaza2

@majedalgherbawi

@ahmadkhalid9725

@haninahed

@shadowyavenuetaco

@rewaa08

@karamrafeek

@aya2mohammed

@hanangaza24

@hayanahed

@hanangaza

@mn-mohammed109

@mohamed-resh0

@maysaayahya85

@fadiafamily11

@samarsh11

@alaasyam

@save-belal-family

@savebelal-life

@nour1132

@transmutationisms

@savepalestineinfamily19

@hadeelandali

@d-lmthael

@abdallahfares

@basel1995s

@ahmedhells-blog

@yara-family

@ahmedomar3

@rawannail25

@kawla-family4

@dodiahmed123

@sondos220

@noorabd-1992

@aiamaher

@salman-1990

@tarneem-sami

@alaakhaled00

@ranensworld

@mahmoud-gaza

@hebamater492

@jomana-ha

@ronzaanqar

@ayoosh-gaza

@zainsami

@osama-family

@farahhh2

@mahmoidsy

@ahmedaldani

@maysaayahya85

@emanhajjaj86

@motaz352

@mohmad40

@mohmad77

@fattmawurd

@save-my-daughter

@yasminfamily

@mohamedmoneralanqar

@omar2002sblog

@ahmedsobeh2009

@nourasissue4

@rodainaayyad-11

@moomensblog

@areej1982

@ezzaldeens-blog

@abdallahblog0

@khalil92hilles

@samirafamily

@youseffamily

@mohammed-gaza

@soperfectionbasement

@superbperfectionwolf

@kareem-family2

@ahed-family2

@mashailmars

@ezzaldeens-blogdeens-blog

@yousefalyazjii1

@save-fatma-gaza3093

@tarneemsblog

@anas--basil

@ahmed-elhabil

@amanyayyad11

@walaafamily

@laana289

And if you have any ideas on how I can spread the word let me know. Also since this post is so long I'm not going to tag palestine stuff on it so I don't get flagged for reach or seen as offensive.

[birdo-is-here]

Bit of an aftermath to the most recent nightmare Michael had, from Raphael’s perspective this time! How fun

Warning for: Descriptions of lots of blood and injuries, one of those injuries being impalement! also some (rather strong) allusions to abuse (let me know if i missed anything please!)

As soon as Raphael stepped into the room, she winced. Michael was splayed out across the tile, unmoving aside from the violent shaking in his body. Peculiarly, he looked to be in his human form. That was interesting; they didn’t usually ask Michael to change into a human form for these punishments.

The polished, white tile was contaminated; dark red blood was smeared around and pooling beneath Michael. The hoodie — the hoodie he only wore when in this form — was almost entirely tinted the darker colour, soaked in the angel’s own blood. 

Raphael approached her patient, taking in what more she could of Michael’s condition as she did so. There was blood on his face. A lot of blood. He didn’t seem to be responding to her approach, either.

As she reached him, she knelt down in the blood, placing a gentle hand on Michael’s shoulder. 

His shaking looked worse, now that Raphael was closer to him; his breathing was incredibly laboured, it was probably stretching it a bit to call what the angel was doing “breathing”. There was a puncture wound right in the middle of his sternum; judging by the blood pooling beneath him, it was certainly a full impalement. Great.

His face was in fact mostly covered in blood. It seemed to be quite a large facial wound, though it was rather difficult to tell… where exactly it was with all the blood, or even if there was only one wound there. Michael’s eyes were clouded over with pain and delirium, staring absently up at the ceiling, though his pupils shifted very slightly in response to the Doctor’s touch.

Good, at least he was… somewhat responsive. 

“Michael, you with us?” She asked as clarification. Michael blinked once, and then proceeded to screw his eyes shut. She hummed to herself, looking over his wounds once more. His arms and legs were broken, too.

… Bloody hell. Alright.

She slipped her hand a bit more onto Michael’s back, gently coaxing him into sitting up. He didn’t take it too well. 

His eyes shot open, fear still fresh as his shivering got worse. He whimpered, shrinking away as best he could manage in his state.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright, it’s okay” She immediately pulled away, her voice softening for the other. The after-effects of these punishments were becoming a bit too… human, lately. Michael settled again, his demeanour relaxing as much as it would allow.

“Can you try to sit up? I’ll help you, I just need to look over your injury,” She tried again. Michael made no response at first, just staring absently at the ceiling. A moment later, he shifted as he tried to pull himself up by his torso.

Raphael’s arm quickly found his back, staying cautious of the spear-shaped wound there, too, as she helped him sit up. He made a small sound of anguish, tears beginning to stream, which certainly would have only hurt his face more. 

Once up, she quietly coaxed him into leaning against her, which he did without arguing. The tears still fell. Raphael adjusted her hold a bit, still staying cautious of his back.

“Cough up what you can of the blood. Get it out of your throat.” Before she even finished speaking, he followed through, hacking up dark red blood into his lap. His coughs were throaty, and clearly painful even to another person. She rubbed circles on his back, holding him close against her.

His arms were completely slack, holding themselves at odd angles on the angel. The bleeding had gotten a little worse in his chest. Time to deal with that. An already-prepared piece of cloth appeared in Raphael’s free hand.

“This is going to hurt. You’re okay, I'm disinfecting the wound,” She had to repeat herself before Michael responded with a very subtle nod.

Raphael gently pressed the cloth to the injury, and Michael tensed. He sucked in a pained, shallow breath, his eyes widening slightly, though he didn’t move — or at least, he didn’t try to.

“You’re doing great, you’re okay. Just shake your head if it gets too painful,” 

…

Immediately after disinfecting the wounds, Raphael teleported herself and Michael into her office. She nearly stumbled. The room was perfectly clean and, for lack of a better term, simple. A box shape; with several cupboards and desks scattered about, alongside a strange, small bed in the corner that now housed the quivering Michael.

… Ah. Right. She still needed to get used to the more… modernised look of the place. Ever since she had noticed it was subtly changing to suit the time frame, it was getting increasingly difficult to keep “up to date” with its new looks. 

No matter, she’d adjust. She had work to do.

Raphael set off to her cupboards, grabbing several new bandages and a few tools, those namely being: a suture kit, four different types of syringes — the other types just in case — and a small bottle of liquid. By then, she was out of hands, so she quickly hurried over to where Michael was and placed the supplies on a nearby desk. Then she was off again.

This time, she grabbed a roll of cast padding, and then a roll of plaster cast. ..And then a couple more rolls. She began to double back to Michael again, before stopping just as quickly.

… He was in his human form for this one, wasn’t he? His measurements may have been different in this form. She went to collect a roll of measuring tape, before finally making it back to the injured angel.

As Raphael turned her attention back on him, she noticed he was staring, unblinkingly, with a look of mild terror — or caution — at something behind her, somewhere above her. Confused, she followed his gaze, until it landed on…

.. Ah. He was staring at the light. Suppose any point of fixed light would… have that effect, considering it would resemble… …H. Hm. 

She momentarily considered snapping her fingers, turning the light off. ..Of course, she chose to keep it on. He would have to learn eventually. They only wanted the best for him.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🦇 The Most Famous Girl in the World Book Review 🦇

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐

❓ #QOTD Are you a true crime fan? OR What conspiracy interests you the most? ❓ 🦇 It's been two years since Rose—a first-generation Middle Eastern American, functional trainwreck, and reporter for online journal The Shred—wrote the investigative article that exposed Poppy as a socialite grifter. Normally, one of her articles going viral would be cause for celebration, but the highly publicized trial that followed turned Poppy into the internet's favorite celebrity. And Rose has been reeling from the aftermath ever since. Although Poppy served her time for defrauding some of the richest, most powerful men in the world, Rose knows this is only the tip of the iceberg for Poppy's crimes. She just can't prove it yet…At least not without the help of a devilishly handsome FBI agent gone rogue.

💜 The Most Famous Girl in the World is loudly and proudly satire. The novel is entirely self-aware, which is quite a feat to write while straddling the line where the fourth wall used to stand. There are so many interesting, complex themes explored in this book that it will no doubt become an interesting read for book club circles. For example, why does society hyper-fixate on certain people? Why do we practically worship actors and musicians? There's a moment during Poppy's confession that's quite interesting. Rose's article paints Poppy as callous, cruel, deceptive--a villain--and Poppy is glad for it. She says society puts too much emphasis on being perfect, that people prefer 'bad' people because she's a mirror, reflecting the worst versions of themselves. "If I can get away with murder and still be beloved, there's hope for them yet." Social media glamorizes people. We see a pocket of their world, perfectly cropped, and see roses instead of the thorns beyond the frame. The Most Famous Girl in the World is a fun, exhilarating ride, but its exploration of fame, mass hysteria, identity, and conspiracy can't be ignored.

💜 I love that Rose is a messy protagonist. As a Middle Eastern American, I've been shoved into boxes and plastered with labels. She recognizes she's hit rock bottom and relies on self-deprecating humor to survive it. Is she a little exhausting at times? Yes, absolutely. Does that make her all the more real as a protagonist? Definitely. However, I do wish we'd seen more depth to her character beyond the mess. No person is one thing. We focus on Rose's substance abuse and obsession with Poppy, her pessimism and disdain for the world around her, but none of the positives that make her equally human.

💙 I have a love-hate relationship with the story's satire, which leaves it riddled with purposeful cliches. The campy-ness ("I've always had villain monologues in fiction. They feel too convenient. Unrealistic.") feels like the fourth wall is constantly getting broken down and resurrected again. And Poppy's confession is exactly that: over the top and unrealistic. All of the pieces are so obvious (Rose getting tipped off twice would mean it was someone at the publication [ie, Cat] or someone close to her [ie, Antanova]). It's possible to write this as a satire without it being so predictable at every turn. The whole "pranks" thing (aka "lies") made the characters seem juvenile, rather than adding levity to their world.

💙 As a Middle Eastern American journalist, I wanted to connect to Rose so much more than I did. The self-reflection about being a child of immigrants could have built Rose's character, made her question her sense of belonging (reflecting the ease in which Poppy assimilates into the world of one-percenters). Instead, it's randomly inserted into the story, added in as an afterthought. There's a brief mention of Rose's articles about her upbringing--feeling like an outsider, an observer straddling the line between two words. Giving us snippets between chapters from those articles would have humanized Rose more. Instead, we dive RIGHT into the drunk, drugged-up, self-destructive version of Rose, which makes her unlikeable and unreliable as a narrator. Rose and Poppy share that mentality of nonbelonging--it should have been a focal theme for the story all along.

🦇 Recommended for fans of true crime and satire.

✨ The Vibes ✨ 💋 Satire/Witty 💋 Anna Delvey/Inventing Anna Vibes 💋 Journalist/FBI Agent 💋 Drug & Alcohol Use 💋 Child of Immigrants/Inherited Trauma 💋 Murder & Conspiracies 💋 Smut

🦇 Major thanks to the author and publisher for providing an ARC of this book via Netgalley. 🥰 This does not affect my opinion regarding the book. #TheMostFamousGirlintheWorld

💬 Quotes ❝ Reality really can write itself better than any great American novel. ❞ ❝ That article I’d written about Poppy set me on fire. I was forged but also burned in the process. ❞ ❝ It was strange and disorienting growing up with a foot in each world. My sourdough-skinned peers could tell I wasn’t actually a blue-blooded American. My skin was brown, and my arms were hairy, and my parents talked funny when they came to pick me up in their Kia Rio. The other Iranian kids didn’t quite recognize me as their own, either. I was too westernized to understand their jokes, to fully feel the weight of their dysphoria. Since I couldn’t be an active participant in either world, I grew into a silent observer. And I began to write everything down. ❞ ❝ I keep them at arm’s length, never letting them get to know the real me. And in turn, they embrace the fake me. ❞

[finnpoerebelscum]

FALLOUT - Chapter 11

Chapters Posted: 11 of 18

Rating: T+

Warnings: Canon-typical violence & fighting/blood/gore/graphic descriptions of injury/angst/hurt/comfort/Multiple POVs

Characters/Pairings: Poe Dameron/Finn, Karé Kun, Iolo Arana, BB-8, OCs.

Summary: Still reeling in the aftermath of Crait, Poe Dameron and Finn are sent to a secret Resistance base tucked away on Lothal to serve as acting generals. Their numbers dwindled to barely a handful, and with General Organa’s order grounding all surviving Resistance personnel to heal and regroup, morale is at an all time low. Poe grapples with his inability to sit still; the First Order looms, an ever-encroaching threat to what remains of the Outer Rim’s free space; intimate feelings grow impossible to ignore and a shocking return promises devastating consequences not only for those stationed on Lothal, but for the Resistance and galaxy at large. 

A/N: An AU adventure, a side-quest of sorts, to account for some of the time between TLJ and ROS. Stormpilot centric. Canon up until the end of TLJ (but does not take into account Resistance Reborn or the Finn/Rose arc).

Masterlist

CHAPTER 11

There was no gradual return to wakefulness. 

Karé was nowhere, suspended in cold, all consuming oblivion, and then she was very suddenly awake. Dry and gnarled trees snapped into focus above her. Urgent, pulsing pain in her left leg, her head, her neck. Flat on her back against cold, hard ground. 

The sky above was a rich gridelin, streaked through with wispy red clouds. Was it night? Dawn? A soft bump, bump, bump against her right ankle. She lifted her head with difficulty and saw BB-8, rolling backwards and forwards into her leg in an attempt to rouse her. His durasteel exterior was singed black on one side, but he seemed to be functioning fine.

“I’m up, Beebee-Ate. I’m up. You okay?”

BB-8 meeped uncertainly. 

An odd sound had filled her ears; harsh, ragged whooshes of air. She realized, belatedly, that it was her own breathing. 

A face appeared above her, blotting out the sky and the scraggy trees. Strange, yellow eyes deep set in a wrinkled, cyan face peered down at her, two lekku swinging against broad shoulders. The Twi’Lek bent in closer.

Karé’s ragged breathing sharpened, her hand fumbled to where her blaster should have been strapped to her thigh. 

It was gone. 

The pain in her leg was everywhere now, traveling through her foot, up her side, burrowing deep into her hip. She could not escape it. A distant ringing muffled BB-8’s warbling and white swept into the edges of her vision— 

A swell of warmth and calm spread outward from her chest in one great ripple, through her arms to her fingertips, mercifully dulling the pain in her leg, and out to the tips of her toes. The adrenaline punch subsided; the world cleared. 

The Twi’Lek offered his hand, and in a soft, accented baritone asked, “Can you stand?”

“I think so.” 

He pulled her to her feet, and when he seemed satisfied she wouldn’t keel over, took two steps back, giving her space to assess herself. 

Nothing broken, as far as she could tell. She spun in a slow circle, taking in the barren surroundings. Behind the Twi’Lek, the pod was still smoking, its bulbous helm embedded in the dirt. It had crushed several parched trees on its way down, carving out a ditch in the desert floor. The dust had not yet fully dissipated. She must not have been out long. 

If the Twi’Lek meant her harm, he really was drawing it out. Maybe he had just been waiting for her to wake up. No fun killing someone already half-dead… Who knows what psychos living in the desert do for fun? 

BB-8 rolled up to the Twi-Lek and bleeped up at him once. He crouched down in front of him. 

“Well, hello. You look quite different than I remember.” He turned to Karé. “Is it just you and your astromech?” He strangely seemed to have expected more.

Karé struggled to grasp the slivers of moments just before the crash. Most dissipated as soon as she tried to pin one down long enough for it to make sense. The pod had held up as they made their jump… Poe and Finn… Lost control of the G-9. An explosion of light. Iolo flinging his hand out, activating her seat eject. Then nothing. 

The Twi’Lek momentarily forgotten, she lurched toward the pod. BB-8 raced after her. A hole gaped where the stabilizer fin and back engine had been torn away. 

“Iolo!” 

The familiar figure was slumped over the flight-stick in the pilot seat.

“Iolo?” The frantic beat of her heart jumped into her throat as she slid her hands on either side of his face and tilted it up to her. She rubbed the pads of her thumbs across the skin under his eyes. Still warm. Still breathing. She forced herself to slow her own.

A strand of hair flopped down over his eyes and joined the mess that was matted to a nasty gash in his forehead. Blood oozed in a lazy line down to his right eyebrow. Finally, his eyes opened. 

“So much for… sticking the landing.”. 

Karé puffed a heavy sigh, sinking down against the flight console behind her. The Twi’Lek had entered the ship as well, and hung back in the shadow created by a mangled piece of ceiling. His long, tawny robes looked so out of  place, yet so familiar at the same time. Echoes of her childhood bedtime stories swirled in her mind. The stories of mysterious Force-strong beings who could manipulate people and surroundings with their thoughts. It wasn’t possible. 

Karé watched Iolo gingerly unclip the four point harness. His right hand was burnt, the skin shiny and red. 

“Where did we end up? Hey—!”

Iolo registered the Twi’Lek before Karé could warn him. His hand went to his blaster as he whipped around to face the stranger. 

“Iolo, wait!”

The blaster rocketed across the ship, knocked free by an invisible momentum. Karé gasped. 

The Twi’Lek emerged from the shadows, both hands up. “I am not here to hurt you.”

“Who the hell are you?” Iolo backed up to shield Karé with his body. She stepped out from behind him. 

“I am Ira Nyx. I saw your ships go down.”

“You just happened to be out here at that exact moment?”

“I live here.”

“Iolo…” Karé began. 

He silenced her with a wave of his hand, not taking his eyes off of Ira. “You live here, huh?”

Before Ira could answer, Karé cut in. “Hang on. Did you say ships?”

Ira nodded. “I watched two ships crash. The second not too far from here.”

BB-8 gave a happy chirp, lights blinking in a frenzy. Karé felt a small twinge of hope, and with it newfound urgency to get to Poe and Finn. Their ship had been in much worse shape than the pod to start and there was no telling how it had fared in a crash. The throbbing in her leg returned insistently. 

“We must tend to your injuries first,” Ira said, as if reading her mind.

 Iolo’s next words stopped hers in her throat. “You survived Order 66.” 

Youthful and eager, Iolo could be somewhat idealistic, but he was quick and wicked smart. He was also, apparently, a war history enthusiast. Order 66 happened long before either of them were born. Most of their generation knew of the Jedi from bedtime stories, not that they had actually existed, and were eradicated by the Empire decades ago. A look of immense sadness filled the Twi’Lek’s face, fleeting, but so tangible Karé’s throat and eyes pricked with it, too. 

“I would like to help you.” Ira was quiet when he spoke again. 

Iolo’s shoulders drooped a fraction, though whether it was apprehension receding or his adrenaline deserting him, Karé couldn’t tell. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.” His voice was breathless. “That was decades ago. You’ve been here since then?”

“Yes. I knew this day would come.” 

Karé and Iolo waited. BB-8 burbled. Ira offered no further explanation. Instead, he continued, “Your ship is wrecked and you need medical attention. Let me help you. Once you are well, I will lead you to your friends.”

Iolo opened his mouth to protest, but the words trailed off as he swayed. Karé grabbed a fistful of his flight suit and propped him up as best she could. As far as she could see, this was their only option. They wouldn’t do Poe and Finn much good if they couldn’t make it to them. 

* * *

“Are you ready?”

Finn knew what was coming, and, no, he wasn’t. He stared at his right arm, limp in his lap. A hands-length longer than his left, it hung like the busted tubes dangling from the ceiling of their wrecked craft, detached and alien. It wasn’t the first time he’d dislocated a shoulder. Or the second. 

Mental conditioning as a stormtrooper cut out the middleman between “jump” and “how high?”—stormtroopers just jumped. The physical conditioning was to make sure they survived the jump. In reality, it was hours of training off the battlefield, where they killed each other at the same rate they died in actual combat. 

He was fifteen the first time, and it was his left. His days were spent corralled from training rooms to combat simulations, like herding bantha to slaughter. It was their third exercise of the day; hand to hand combat. Down and dirty. Finn learned quickly the name of the game wasn’t winning, just surviving. The gargantuan trooper he was paired with didn’t even have to try. He grabbed Finn’s forearm with bone-crushing force as he weaved out of the way, and yanked. It left the socket with a sinuous pop and he blacked out. 

The next thing he remembered were two troopers pulling him from the mass into a galley off the main corridor as they were herded to their next training. One took off Finn’s helmet and clamped a hand over his mouth. The other grabbed his useless left arm and tugged. Barbaric, but with practiced precision. His shoulder slid back into place. 

“There. Now you’ll survive the rest of the day. Hopefully.” Then they had shoved his helmet back on his head and pushed him back into the group filtering down the corridor. 

“Finn?” Poe’s voice brought him back. 

“Yeah,” he grunted and urged his muscles to shed any tension. It would only hurt more. 

Poe, crouched in front of him, gave him an incredibly charming, “Here goes nothing” look and braced the palm of his hand against Finn’s armpit. He slid his other hand around Finn’s wrist, and using the wall behind Finn’s back as counter-pressure, yanked. Finn bit back a yell, but was relieved to feel the shoulder slide back into its socket with a snick. 

“Damn. It worked.” Poe grinned. 

Most of the lights in the downed G-9 were dead, with the exception of the few that hung down in a tangled mass of wires in places where the ceiling was crushed in. The strange glow underlined the bruises and smattering of bloody gashes along Poe’s hairline and cheekbones. Most of his injuries looked like they came from the shattered transparisteel on the pilot’s side. The co-pilot’s window had held, but the impact with the earth had contorted the metal, pinning Finn’s right shoulder to the seat with it. 

They were nowhere near the capital city, let alone any settlement or outposts. Finn had briefly exited the ship to search the landscape. The ship had come to rest under a thick patch of the skeletal trees that dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see as well as a cluster of the jagged rocks that jutted out of the cracked soil. It went for miles in every direction he turned, meeting the sky in a continuous loop, until he got dizzy squinting to see where it ended. 

The cluster of trees and rock the G-9 was jammed into offered some protection, if only concealing them from overhead visibility. But it was freezing. The cold seeped steadily into the cramped shuttle, chilling the durasteel all around them. 

Poe came out of his crouched position and sat back, stilling himself. 

He was in pain, Finn realized. 

The outer physical signs weren’t there, but Finn knew it. Somehow. 

His own shoulder had dulled to barely an ache; it definitely wasn’t his pain he was feeling anymore.

“Think you can get the comms up and running?” Poe asked him, voice tight. “I’ll take the engine.” He brought one knee up to stand, then stopped. The lines in his brow deepened. 

“Poe? Hang on.” Finn pushed him back down. “Let me make sure you’re not injured first.” 

“I’m fine.” Poe gave him a lopsided grin, but didn’t try to get up again. Finn reached up to pull one of the blinking lights closer. Finn guided his palms over Poe’s extremities, checking for blood after each one. A hush fell over the two of them as he searched, the only sound the frigid whistling and the increasingly clipped in and out of Poe’s breath. Finn felt more than saw that Poe was favoring his left side, even as he sat. His hands hovered over Poe’s chest for a moment. 

Poe nodded, perhaps as much for himself as for Finn’s sake. “It’s okay.”

Finn peeled back the left side of Poe’s jacket and it stuck to his hip and side. Dread laced its way around Finn’s gut. It was blood. The shirt went up next, soaked through and tacky. There was a significant gash in the skin of Poe’s left side, it wound its way around his ribs down to his hip. Finn was frozen in place, heart hammering. 

“That’s way worse than I thought it was.” Poe’s words caught in his throat. “Okay. Minor setback.” Hand shaking, he gestured to a panel above Finn’s head. “Check in there for a medpac.” 

“That’s going to take more than a bacta patch.” Finn found himself saying. Clamping down on the panic climbing up his throat, he forced himself to stand. His fingers padded along the edge of the tarnished panels until he found the pressure opening and pressed. The panel popped open. Sure enough, a tiny medpac was tucked in next to a few rolls of gauze. He scooped them up and dropped them on the floor next to Poe. 

The gash was deep. Scary deep. Down to several layers of red tissue and muscle closest to his hip and more superficial around his ribcage. The deeper parts still oozed, albeit in a lazy rhythm. Slow, but not enough to quell Finn’s panic. He didn’t have any medical knowledge. Troopers weren’t entitled to first aid. Anything a bacta patch couldn’t fix—you were as good as dead. 

He picked up a roll of the gauze. It dropped from his numb fingers. He struggled with the zipper on the medpac. Inside were a pair of surgical scissors, some tape, a comically minuscule bacta pack, and some pills. 

“This is just a bump in the road.” Poe’s hand came to rest on his. Finn dropped the medpac altogether and grabbed Poe’s hand. 

He was almost dizzy, overwhelmed by the pain he could feel rolling off Poe in waves. 

“We’ll figure this out. Just help me throw some bandages on so we can get to working on the comms, yeah? Hey.” Poe slid two fingers under Finn’s chin and made him look up. The touch was electrifying, circumstances be damned. Finn’s hand went to Poe’s face, and he leaned into the touch. They sat for a few moments, in silence punctuated only by the icy gusts that whistled through cracked transparisteel and the clipped in and out of Poe’s breaths. 

Then, Poe straightened abruptly. “What are you doing?”

Finn’s heart dropped. This was it: he had overstepped. Misread the moment and crossed the line. “Nothing. I’m so sorry. I was just—”

“No, no, no.” Poe squeezed Finn’s hands in fleeting reassurance. “I mean you did something.” 

The realization dawned on them both at the same time. Poe’s voice was stronger and his breathing had evened out. 

“I—I don’t know,” Finn said. His eyes flicked down to the hand that had been holding Poe’s face, then back up to meet Poe’s gaze. “But you look better.”

“See? Just a bump in the road.” Poe gave him a brilliant grin that made Finn’s legs tremble for completely different reasons. “What do you say we get those comms up and running?”

The bacta pack, predictably, had barely been enough to cover the deepest grooves of the wound, but Poe insisted he felt better. Finn pulled him to his feet and he was steady, so for the time being Finn believed him. They wound the gauze around Poe’s midsection together, hands catching on each other, fumbling then resuming their twisting rhythm. Several times, Finn found himself on the cusp of telling Poe, the words burning on the tip of his tongue, his heart pounding. He just couldn’t get his mouth to cooperate.

Once they finished, Poe found the panel that housed the communication equipment, bashed in from the impact. Together, they dislodged it. Wires spilled out, some sparking, others, fried beyond recognition. It was the perfect distraction, and Finn chalked up his momentary bravery to the last dregs of adrenaline. Ill-timed love confessions aside, they had one hell of a job ahead of them.

* * *

The landscape of Garel was varied, but the blasted quadrant they’d crashed in was a cracked, flat expanse that stretched on endlessly, only occasionally dotted with scraggy trees. Garel City was nowhere in sight. You could see for eons. Karé was beginning to doubt her choice to accept help from Ira Nyx. One of his strides took nearly three of hers, and she was half-dragging, half-carrying Iolo at this point. He’d stopped making sense miles back. An overgrown thicket of the skeletal trees sprung up in the distance. Iolo stumbled and nearly sent them crashing into the dust. 

“How much further?” Karé grunted. Her leg was fire, screaming for her to stop. With a glance over her shoulder, she could still see the smoking husk of the pod behind them, now a tiny gray dot in the distance. Ira eclipsed into the thicket. 

“We are here,” his muffled voice floated through the dense brush. 

The branches clawed at her and Iolo, the path now too small for the two of them. Iolo’s knees finally folded under him, dropping them both. Before they hit the earth, Ira reappeared, lifting Iolo off of her. The sudden weightlessness was disorienting, she stumbled after him through the brush. 

The copse opened up into a clearing. In the middle, stood a small dwelling, handmade with a combination of earth and branches and trunks of the Garel trees. A misshapen chimney jutted out of the top. It looked like a giant, lumpy bowl turned upside down. Beside a window carved in the front was a taller opening, where a tattered cloth hung in place of a door. 

A fire blazed inside, and only then did Karé realize she was shivering. Ira lowered Iolo onto a makeshift bed in the far corner, a piece of fabric filled with leaves and twigs. Then he returned to where she was hanging off the door frame. BB-8 hummed inquisitively at her heels. 

“Come. Sit.” Ira took her by the shoulders and lowered her into one of  the chairs at a little table opposite the bed. 

“Why are you helping us?”

“You look like you could use it.”

“But you’ve been hiding for what—forty years? Why now?”

“That time has ended. I have been waiting for you. All of you.”

Karé couldn’t focus through the white-hot burning in her leg and her eyes dropped down to look at it. The world shimmered and tilted as she took in the damage. Her flight suit hung in tatters around her left thigh, the flesh a seared and peeling mess. “That…” She swallowed with difficulty. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Ira’s palm came to rest flat on the worst of her ruined flesh. Before she could recoil, a familiar rush of warmth pooled from under his hand, numbing the agony as it went. Then, slowly, he lifted it again.

The burn was gone.

[zachsgamejournal]

PLAYING: Final Fantasy VII Ever Crisis Beta

I've been dying for this game to release. It was exciting to wake up this weekend and find a new game downloaded onto my phone. While I couldn't wait to play this, it's not quite what I was expecting. But I've still gleefully played it for hours.

First off, yes: it captures the Final Fantasy VII vibe perfectly. The menu aesthetics feel like FFVII. The music is now orchestrated by definitely features familiar melodies and themes. And they're using the Chibi characters in the dungeons and big characters in the battles, just like classic FFVII.

BUT this is very much a mobile game. Instead of one continuous experience through the story, the game is broken up into sub-chapters. The first chapter is the entire opening bombing mission up until the explosion: perfect. But then several sub-chapters are really short conversations. There's about 3-4 sub-chapters taking place inside 7th Heaven, and each is a conversation with a different character. I don't know why they couldn't just have a sub-chapter be you walking around talking to all the characters. But nope, you have finish one 60 second conversation, load the mission select screen, pick the next 60 second conversation, load the same area you just were, wait 60 seconds of barely interesting conversation, then back to the mission select.

Not particularly fun.

Also, you have all the mobile things: gacha item collection, overly complicated materials to upgrade items, and unbalanced gameplay to encourage purchases over grinding. It's not terrible, but I find myself spending a lot of time accepting rewards (you're rewarded for everything you do--I think there's rewards for accepting rewards), figuring out which of my two millions weapons to use, upgrading them, buying material x to convert to material y so I can upgrade more. It's a lot of management just so I can watch a 30 second conversation and fight two monsters.

Beyond story missions, there's challenge dungeons and fights. You need to get a party that's strong enough (lots of weapon upgrading). But it provides more rewards and helps grind your character levels in a more engaging way than running in circles waiting for random battles to start.

There's also a multiplayer mode. I "unlocked it" but it doesn't seem to be working for Beta. Or I'm missing something.

So to the story gameplay:

The bombing mission felt very 1:1 of the original except with new camera angles for certain sections. The opening video when Avalanche attacked the guards off the train matched some of the cinematic views of Remake. The game skipped a few screens, like the elevator. I'm worried they're cutting a lot of content, but maybe they're keeping it shorter for the Beta?

After the bombing mission, the game skipped around more. One scene was just Cloud meeting Aerith. Then back to the main menu. Then the next scene was Cloud being surrounded by Shinra on the street. Then suddenly we're in 7th Heaven. They left out the trapped group blowing their way out the rubble, wandering the streets in the aftermath, and all the train conversations. I worry this won't be in the final game--but maybe they're just moving things along for the Beta? The FF7 section ends once Cloud meets Aerith in the church and they're confronted by Reno. No hint as to whether the barrel mini-game will be included.

Reaching this point opens the Crisis Core section. While I love Crisis Core, having just played the opening bombing mission, the opening training mission for Zack is a little boring. It's also very short. I struggled with the difficulty here. It became necessary to work on upgrades for Zack before I could easily when the battles. Then the story moves on to a series of less than exciting conversations and training battles. I don't remember if the original game was this slow to progress, but I didn't particularly enjoy the mobile version of this experience.

You then attack Wutai and feature some of the important conversations about dumbapples. While Ever Crisis is trying to create a consistent experience across all the storylines, this mission was less exciting with the overhead view and random battles. The section ends when you meet Sephiroth and realize there's Genesis clones.

The next section is the First Soldier, which I guess is a more story-driven version of the battle royale game that came out a while back. That game was fun, but I didn't like the battle royale aspect. I would have enjoyed teaming up with 1-3 others and battling hoards of enemies instead. RIP. I haven't started this yet, so not sure what to expect.

The combat is turned-based with active time battle qualities. Thankfully, the game handles some of the simpler aspects of combat, like attacking. There's an MP meter (at least that's what I'm calling it) that fills up over time. Each character has a series of skills and spells they can use, but they require x-bars of mana to use. So a basic fire spell might require 3 bars, while a healing spell requires 5. Once you've got 3 bars you can cast fire--but now you're 5 away from healing. So You have to judge whether to sacrifice attacking fast in order to heal characters. Luckily these skills and spells cast immediately and don't seem to interrupt your characters occasional attack.

In a way, you just control one character at a time. You tap the icon of the character you want to control and the camera moves behind them. They'll continue to attack on their own, but you choose the skills/spells to use and when. The other characters in your party when cast spells and choose who to attack on their own. But you can also switch between them if you'd like.

...well...maybe that's not accurate. There's three settings for combat: manual, semi, and auto. Full auto lets you sit back and watch your characters make decent decisions. You still have to activate limit breaks manually. I think Semi is when you control your character and the others make good decisions, then manual means it's all on you (except for attacking). There's some quirks to the combat that make it interactive and engaging, but once you've boosted your weapons to insanity, it doesn't take much to win most battles.

I wasn't sure how they were going to "mobilize" FF7 and company, but I had hoped it was going to be a more direct remake of the original. I was not expecting this disjointed experience. Still, I'm having a lot of fun and I look forward to the real game finally releasing (at which point I've been told I'll start back at 0).

[twst-drabbles]

Heartslabyul and Ignihyde 1

Summary: The aftermath of the storm. Naturally, you would get help from the pets that live in the garden.

(whoop got lost in the napping and food and almost forgot my daily update. And also it's more Idia focused, my bad. And Trey, Cater, Ace and Deuce barely get mentioned here.)

You really are shocked at the durability of this garden these nymphs have made. Sure, there are leaves and whole pieces of hedges thrown everywhere, but by all means, this mess was something you could get done with a simple rake. Well, you could get the tools from the Crowley's shed, but you're also feeling pretty lazy. Where's the fun in doing everything yourself?

Well, you say that but you also knew that the plant nymphs would help one way or another. While it is your property they're using, this garden is still the result of their handiwork. They know this place better than you do, and you're not exactly in the mood to find out about Riddle's specifications. That sounds like a headache and a half.

Oh well, better to leave that to Trey and Cater. Sure, you're concerned about how Ace and Deuce might mess things up, but their mistakes are always covered up quickly enough that you stopped worrying altogether. That and you're sure that in the case Riddle really lost it, it wouldn't be at the expense of your house.

You did grab a net though. While Riddle was using his roots to remove some sticks and branches from your roof, and the others were stacking up leaves into tall piles that you're sure Ace and Deuce will dive into later, you were carefully scooping out the litter that fell into the pond. Most of said junk was just stray leaves, rotted branches and berries, and while you know Idia and Ortho would love for it to be a bog, you do not want to deal with the bugs that it will attract.

In fact, you can already spot some mosquito larva swimming in it, doing their gross little dance as they flick about.

Hearing a buzz close to you ear, you slammed a hand against your cheek, nearly dropping your net into the water. You wiped the corpse on your pants, mentally noting to get some bug spray later. Though whether you'll get around to it is the question.

A few bugs flew about the edge of the pond. You were tempted to shoo them away with your net, but Idia came from between blades of grass circled around, flames red with irritation, making little sizzling noises as bug after bug were burnt to a crisp.

You're very grateful for the fact Idia hates these buggy intruders.

Ortho, younger and not nearly as fast as his brother, came over to your side instead, hoping down the net and collecting trash you missed before plopping them into your net. He went over to the lilies in the water, trying to stand them up but finding their stems too broken to hold their weight.

"Those need to be replaced," you muttered, remembering seed packets in Sam's shop. Maybe you can find a different color this time? Maybe a nice blue? Or a red? Or both? The possibilities are endless.

[whumpingisfun]

Hey! It's me again! Hope you're doing well!

Here's another whump prompt I'd love your take on. Feel free to ignore tho.

The actual whump is always wonderful. But the aftermath of the whump deserves just as much love too! So how about a whumpee crying themselves to sleep while lying in bed with whumper's arms wrapped around them. Does whumper shove them away with an insult? Or pull them closer to murmur some comfort into their ear? Does whumper tell them they're overreacting? Or do they apologize for it all despite both parties knowing full well that it's gonna be same tomorrow? Does whumpee feel repulsed by it all? Or have they been conditioned enough to develop stockholm Syndrome? Does whumpee actually manage to fall asleep? Or do they keep crying? Does whumper end up actually getting up from bed? Do they care for whumpee? Or punish them? Do they drag whumpee back into their cage/basement/cell/someplace? Or keep them in bed? Do they press into their wounds? Do they scold them for getting blood everywhere? So many things to consider!!

Once again, feel free to ignore. Have a nice day! Also, you look great today!

-🐢 anon

Nice to see you again Turtle Anon, I’ve been doing good! Sorry this took so long! It’s been very busy here irl and inspiration took a hit for a little while. Thank you for the prompt, I had fun with this!

TWs: intimate whumper, creepy whumper, the beginnings of Stockholm syndrome, bandaged wounds

Aftermath

Whumpee can’t help the tears that fall from their face, their body wracked with pain as their wrists are bound together tightly with gauze and medical tape.

“Shh… it’s all done, sweetie…” Whumper coos, their thumb warm against Whumpee’s cheek as they run their hand through the stream. “You did so well for me.”

They glide their hands down, over trembling skin and bandgaged wounds, gauze cushioning the sting. Whumpee can’t help the terrified flinch and Whumper laughs, low and amused. Their hands circle back up to Whumpee’s throat, encircling it as they are dragged closer, their back pressed flush against their chest.

Once, the action would have made Whumpee squirm, whimpering in fear as their airway was constricted entirely but now they are limp and compliant in Whumper’s arms, nuzzling under the hollow of Whumper’s throat as they rasp and try to suck in breath.

Eventually Whumper let’s them breathe again, their hands skimming bandaged wounds once more, enjoying how Whumpee’s gasps tremble and stutter in pain as their hand digs into their side, clawing into a still so very fresh wound.

Whumper let’s out a broken sob, but does not squirm away, even as Whumper’s lips kiss the tears from their eyes, Whumper’s hands in their hair, tugging and yanking. “You did so well for me,” Whumper praises, “screamed so beautifully for me…”

Whumpee hates how their praise makes them warm.

[holding-hands-and-hearts]

There was a new scar on Kix’s armor, a wide gash across the back seeded with rock and dust that Jesse brushed his fingertips across like a secret. And Kix breathed, soft and even, like it would hide the fact that the air couldn’t seem to find the other side of his diaphragm. The drama of the cracked plastoid would hide the matching set of bruises and broken ribs, and Jesse would busy himself with wiping the grime from both of their faces.

Kix would sip Jesse’s cup of water, they would share the ration bar he pulled from his belt. They would try to breathe, and remember that the other one still was, and then their moment to feel the aftermath would wrap up as easily as a wrapped sheet. Jesse would know better than to talk, and Kix would need the silence.

Except that Jesse was a kriffing idiot, one who kept both of their hearts too close, one who danced on the edges of new scars like he knew how to heal them, and Kix would never give him the satisfaction of admitting that sometimes he did.

“Did you get that checked out?”

“No.”

Kix shifts. The ration bar tastes like chalk, memories shoved to the back of a dusty shelf.

Jesse raises his eyebrows. Kix pretends not to notice.

So Jesse pouts instead, and Kix’s rebel heart betrays him, and Jesse matches the escaped smile like he’s won. Kix swats him.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s fine,” Jesse echoes, and rolls his eyes. “Hypocrite.”

“It’s fine,” Kix insists. Mutinously, he takes another bite of ration bar.

Jesse hums, noncommittal, amused. It’s infuriating. His fingertips trace the cracks in the plastoid again. His breath tickles Kix’s ear.

He doesn’t even have to say anything, and that’s infuriating too.

“You,” Kix sighs, “are a pain in my shebs.”

Jesse hums again, almost a laugh. “It’s why you keep me around.”

He’s right - of course he is - and Kix won’t say it, but they both know it. Jesse is brilliantly bullheaded enough for the both of them.

“Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” Jesse hugs him closer, and Kix sighs and lets himself bathe in the warmth. Even fresh out of the firefights, Jesse still smells like Jesse - something almost nutty, rich and warm and thick enough to bury yourself in.

And then Kix grunts, and Jesse pulls back, and Kix’s ribs are still broken.

“You’ve got to get that checked out,” Jesse says again.

“It’s fine.”

But Kix’s words sound hollow, and his breath still doesn’t quite reach the other side of his diaphragm. Jesse’s hand finds his instead, tangling their fingers together until Kix doesn’t have the energy to untie them anymore.

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“You grouse when I win.”

“You deflect.”

“Awwwh, Kixystix. You know me so well.” Jesse tips his head, overdoes the innocence.

“Wish I didn’t.”

Jesse huffs, mock exasperation. His free hand traces circles at the base of Kix’s neck, drops down to find the spot where the edge of his hip flares out a little too far, and there’s another reason Kix can’t breathe.

He should maybe get that checked out. But Jesse is insufferable when he’s right.

So Kix lets himself melt, lets himself bathe in the warmth, lets the moment draw out like the whole thing is a tease.

Jesse can be right later.

*******

Some snark and some soft for @hades-in-a-handbag . This was super fun to write - thank you so much for requesting it! You know how much I love these two, and I hope you enjoy this one.

I wrote a little snippet of a sickfic a while back so I'll get that posted soon! 💕

(tagged for some mild cloneshipping but you can interpret this however you like!)

[hurtthemgently]

Healing

Masterlist

I don’t usually write stuff with broken bones, but the thought of keeping Clove awake to prevent him from healing was too good to pass up.

Cw:intimate whumper, aftermath of torture, more torture, undead whumpee, lots of broken bones, dub con drugging, short term sleep deprivation

Clove lay still on the floor, not wanting to jostle the cracked rib and the bruises all along his torso. Darkness encroached his vision, the promise of sleep that would heal him. He let it come, even knowing that he’d be hurt all over again once he’d been healed.

Tris wiped blood from the assassins face, a small trickle after being hit many times. Clove gasped as the prince gripped his broken jaw.

He usually disliked getting blood everywhere, but thought it’d be fun to use something besides the ring to hurt his favorite prisoner. So he’d gotten a large hammer. It was fun to hear all the new cries and pleas this new tool elicited. At least until the begging got annoying. That’s when he broke Cloves jaw.

Clove shifted uncomfortably at having his head lifted and blinked up at his captor, bleary and exhausted. Tristan dropped his hold and he sank back to the floor.

An idea- he looked at Clove, laying still on his side, and thought of something he wanted to try. The pelvis is a very hard bone to break. But with the right angle, between the floor and the hammer..

Clove screamed at the heavy blow to his hip, gasping more as he aggravated his other injuries. Through tears he saw Tris lower to take a look at the damage. Blood seeped through the fabric at his waist, but the bone was still intact. The assassin tried to crawl across the floor, but was helpless when hands grabbed his waist and turned him back to his side.

Another blow, harder this time, and Clove screamed louder than before, his voice nearly giving out. But the pain in his throat was nothing compared to the rough crack that came with the third blow

White spots covered his vision, and that wonderful darkness crept closer, so so close. He could almost touch it. Just as he reached to let it envelop him, the darkness was shredded apart by icy razors. The cold did nothing to quell the white hot pain in his back, only added to it.

His head swam, and in this moment the pain was all he was. Not a person, not himself, just hurt and pain and dizziness and white spots.

It lasted an eternity, though if he had to guess, it was only a few minutes before his senses came back, one by one.

Tris barely nudged the assassins back with his foot, a small tap right where the break was, the crumple visible even through his clothes. The response he got was a sputtering cry, coming from a voice that had been throughly broken.

He wondered how long Clove could stay awake like this.

Lifting him off the floor, he again marveled at how light he was. He’d seen Clove climb up walls and lift heavy barrels, so he wasn’t weak. Just very light.

He gasped and sputtered with every movement, before laying still when Tris dumped him onto the bed. The assassins eyelashes fluttered prettily, and Tris couldn’t help but trace a finger along his delicate lips. He was still beautiful even with a broken jaw and bloody nose. He might even say that the injuries enhanced his beauty.

The cold shot it’s way through Clove’s insides like lightning, and he stifled a cry. Laying flat on his back was already painfully stretching at his hip, and his jaw throbbed from being gripped and jostled. It hurt so much. His vision pulsated with white dots and circles, barely letting through a view of the bed’s awning.

Tris wiped at tears, flowing from the assassins eyes to the pillow under his head.

He decided to have some fun with keeping his toy awake. He always kept a bottle of rose water on the dresser. Laura had told him that anything with roses would put most undead to sleep.

He held a cloth with a few drops over the assassins nose and mouth, and his eyes stopped fluttering. Next he twisted the ring on his finger, pulling another cry from the assassin.

As long as he willed for the magic to keep him awake, the assassin would stay awake. At least, that’s what he’d been told. He was about to put that to the test.

The pain and the cold mixed with exhaustion, darkness, and the floral smell of roses. The shots of agony through his back, the freezing electric feeling in his heart, and waves of a beautiful nothing. Every time the flowers brought the darkness closer, the cold cut through it. It all swirled together, all covered in white splotches.

He just wanted it to be over. He’d do anything just to make it stop. Through the spots, he saw the prince, sitting over him. He wanted to beg, but could only gasp. He tried to plead with his eyes, Tristan liked it when the fear and pain showed in his eyes. He normally hated that, but in this moment it was a possible salvation.

After the prince had his fun, he decided that this had gone on long enough. The moment he let go of the magic, Clove relaxed into the sheets, finally drifting off to sleep.

[adorerdraco]

Malfoy’s Gone Soft! ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Draco, your boyfriend, is mean to everyone until you call him out for it.

Warnings: mentions of bullying :( and a couple profanities :0

Words: 2K 

A/N: omg i wrote this on a whim while listening to the euphoria score soundtrack in like an hour idk if its all that but i have no idea what i’m going to do next for Healing Heart so for now i’m just going to write other things for Draco until i get inspired ! & feel free to send me requests ! also thank you for 100 followers you guys are amazingggg !!!!!!!!!!! *insert pouty emojy*

The sound of arrogant and boisterous laughter filled the courtyard, the Slytherin Prince and his minions were tossing around a book bag that a helpless 2nd year Hufflepuff was chasing around every time it was thrown to another boy. One of the boys yelled a foul, “mudblood!” that made the boy tear up as he reached and jumped up for his bag that was in the air every few seconds. It was nothing new to the school, Draco and his band of bullies would bother anyone who they found as an easy target just for the fun of it.

Unfortunately for Draco, you had been passing by through one of the corridors with a group of friends when you had seen the fiasco. As much as you adored your boyfriend, you couldn’t deny the sometimes nasty persona that he had and how much it bothered you. He would always swear up and down that he would stop his antics, but you often encountered him or heard from other people of him being in the same situations that he had promised would stop. 

You marched your way over to the group, a fire in your step and your eyes fixated on Draco who was laughing like a fool. You watched as Goyle rushed to elbow Draco’s side, earning him a look until he had pointed in your direction. All joy in the blond’s face quickly drained once he saw your vexed expression heading towards him.

The book bag had dropped from his hands onto the stoned courtyard ground, the young Hufflepuff hastily grabbed it and ran off in tears back into the castle. You stomped up to Draco, noticing how he had visibly swallowed in fear at what your reaction would be.

“What happened to, ‘I swear I’ll stop being a git to everyone!’” You asked him incredulously, mocking his voice as you quoted him. 

“Malfoy said that?” Blaise chuckled as if it were a joke. Both you and Draco turned to give him a frenzied look.

“Y/N, I...” Draco trailed off, looking around at his friends who were awaiting his response with smug smiles on their faces. Then he looked towards you, a hope glittering in your eyes that he would reassure you and be the sensitive boy you knew behind closed doors and away from his every day reputation. “I...”

“So you have nothing to say for yourself?” you deadpan, a scowl making its way onto your face when you realized he wasn’t going to apologize.

“Why do you care what I do to a stupid little Hufflepuff?” He snickers. Whatever hope you had left went up in flames, he had chosen his reputation.

“Because it’s mean,” you sneered. “Why would I want to be with an arse like that?”

With that, you turned on your heel, walking out of the courtyard and back to your friends where you walked to your next class without turning back to look at the group of shocked boys.

“I think you just got dumped, mate.”

“Merlin’s sake, do you ever shut up Zabini?” Draco fumed, his heart breaking at the question and his mind running a million miles per minute. He began walking towards the entrance of the castle to head into the common room, bumping shoulders aggressively with Blaise as he did.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You weren’t sure whether or not you and the Slytherin Prince were broken up. Of course, it was the last thing you wanted but you were sick of the endless excuses and empty promises. You knew of the package deal Draco Malfoy came with when you started dating him, but there was a point when it all became too much. You were hoping in a last ditch effort, that if he genuinely really cared for you and respected your wishes, this would be the final push he needed to change.

It’s not like you were asking him to completely stop being himself. You were only asking for him to stop with the unprovoked teasing and pushing around of innocent bystanders. His friends especially, were a big reason why he continued to do it as he loved being the leader of the group and all that came with his positions as; the funniest, the most attractive and charming, the smartest, the wealthiest, the strongest. It was all just a game to him but he never saw the aftermath of his tormenting and how it could really affect someone or their day. You were like a broken record, repeating to him over and over again the same wish you had for him but he never absorbed it.

So now here you were, furiously writing your Potions essay in the library as your mind ran with thoughts of the aggravating platinum blond and nothing having to do with Calming Draught. 

“Write any harder and you’ll break your quill,” a certain timid voice said from in front of your table. You didn’t look up, already knowing it was Draco. You didn’t want to give in so easily to his intoxicating nature because the second his scared gray eyes were to meet yours, you’d melt. “Y/N, I’m sorry. For what happened in the courtyard.”

You sighed, setting down your quill and shaking your head, eyes still trained on your parchment. “It’s not just what happened in the courtyard, Draco. It’s that you do this to someone new every single day.”

“I’ve been this way all my life, I can’t just change who I am,” he argues. You finally look at him, the both of you silently seething at each other.

“That’s not an excuse!”

“Shh! Quiet down, the two of you or you will be asked to leave,” Madam Pince exclaims angrily from her desk. You turned back to Draco, hard eyes trained on him as he glared back at you with the same irritated look.

“I would just like to know why my girlfriend feels the need to suck the life out of all my fun,” he says lowly to you. Your face goes scarlet as you try to contain your wrath from being let out on the whole library, and on Draco who wouldn’t even know where to begin to handle it. But as angry as you were, it was quickly replaced with anguish and pooling tears as you thought of the main reason why you had wanted him to be nicer.

“Because your ex-girlfriend knows how it feels like to get bullied and targeted every day for no reason,” you spit sorrowfully. “I know what it’s like to live on the opposite end of what you think is fun and I promise you it’s nothing near that.”

You hurriedly grabbed all your things and rushed out of the library with tears streaming down your face as Draco only stood there feeling like the biggest most insensitive idiot and asshole in the world. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It had been a week since the incident at the library and the both of you couldn’t be any more miserable. It had gotten to the point where Draco felt ashamed and gross if he was even accidentally rude to someone, let alone on purpose. The blond boy watched you intently from his Slytherin table in the Great Hall, his friends and their conversation sounding like a distant incoherent buzzing as he focused onto your sad and defeated face and figure from afar. 

He had tried everything he could think of to get your attention, to get you to hear his apologies, but you wouldn’t give him the time of day; you refused to. You were beyond hurt. Not only because of Draco, but also because of the painful memories that had resurfaced that you spent so long trying to get over. It was all just a mess and Draco regretted everything he had said to you and everything he didn’t do for you.

“Just give it a rest, Draco,” Pansy sighs exasperated at the boy’s longing stares. “She broke up with you, stop pouting about it and move on.”

“Shut up, Pansy,” Draco sneers. “Mind your business why don’t you.”

“I’m just saying, if I was her, I would never do or say anything to ruin our relationship,” she shrugs, peering up at the frowning Slytherin through her eyelashes.

“You’re not her though, are you?” Draco snarks, his eyes squinting at her as he shoots the mean remark her way. All the surrounding boys give an “oooh” at the interaction, cackling as they watch Pansy go red in the face before abruptly standing up and leaving the table in a rush. 

Draco did the same and removed himself from the table to dart out of the Great Hall and towards an empty corridor near the courtyard where he liked to hide on an large windowsill. He had enough of his despair and enough of sitting around and doing nothing to win you back, so he got to work on something that would be his last and this time big gesture, to get you to listen.

A few hours had gone by, it was sunny and there was a nice breeze that was perfect for Draco’s plan on winning you back. He especially knew that when the weather was like this, you enjoyed sitting on a bench in the courtyard, the sun caressing your face with warmth as you read a book. 

He walked out of the corridor and towards the courtyard, and just like he knew, he spotted you sitting at your favorite bench angled towards the sun and deeply entranced in whatever book was in your lap. He took a deep breath before nearing you, stopping a few feet away to where you didn’t notice his presence just yet. His hand reached into the pocket of his robes, picking out the small and large variety of origami birds notes he had written and charmed to fly over to you and around you in a pretty and gentle circle. A bouquet of red and y/h colored flowers had appeared in his hands behind his back, all he was waiting for was for you to accept him.

You looked up from your book, eyeing all the paper birds that were fluttering around you and across the way was a frantic looking Draco with his hands hiding something behind his back. You let out a deep exhale, reaching out to grab one of the birds and unfolding the note to read his perfect cursive.

I’m sorry.

Then you grabbed another.

Please forgive me.

Then another.

You are everything to me.

And another.

I promise to change my habits.

And then the final one, the biggest bird of the bunch.

I should have listened to you from the beginning and I’m sorry I haven’t been more sympathetic. I’m also sorry that you had to go through that in your past. You are so beautiful and strong and deserve everything good in this world.

You placed your book to the side and stood up, opening your arms in a hug for Draco before he bolted towards you and enveloped you into his arms with a sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he apologizes again into your hair as he nuzzled into you. He pulled back, handing you the large bouquet of flowers that made you blush as red as the roses that were mixed into the assortment. “I can’t promise you I’ll be perfect, but I swear on everything I love, I’ll try.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Dray,” you chortle. “All I’m asking is for you not to be such a terrorizing little git.”

“Done,” he grins, throwing himself into your arms again as you giggled and ran your hands through his hair.

The two of you plop onto the bench below you, Draco peppering kisses all over your face in glee and gratefulness that you gave him another chance to prove himself. He didn’t even dare remove himself from you when he saw his friends strolling by, snickering and pointing to the nearly snogging couple.

“Malfoy’s gone soft!” Blaise yells across the yard, the rest of the boys laughing in response as usual like the mindless bozo’s that they were. Draco rolled his eyes, throwing them the middle finger before nuzzling himself back into your embrace.

[honeytae]

You’ll always be my favorite person.

okay...here we go...this is my first venture into a mini-series! this will have four or five parts i think...it’s just super fluffy friends to lovers, you know the gig. they’re idiots but...they’ll find their way eventually <3 i hope you all like this, please let me know if i did okay  tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters genre: angst, fluff, IDIOTS TO LOVERS warnings: mentions of cheating, depressive themes (breakup aftermath), namjoon is in denial word count: 3.3k

In which your best friend, Kim Namjoon, helps you get over your asshole ex-boyfriend; perhaps, maybe, he was never the one you loved anyway.

Your eardrums still buzzed from all the shouting. 

Your socked feet repetitively hit the ground, bunching the fabric of your shirt in angst as the aftershocks of the breakup rung through your body. You’d been pacing your living room ever since it happened, a painful lump in your throat threatening to rear it’s head as you debated calling him.

Him. Your best friend, Namjoon. The one you could go to for anything, the only one you wanted to go to. Especially in times like this, when your hands were shaking and your chest felt tight and constricted. 

It was definitely not a good time, only a few hours before his workday began, but you felt as if you were going to drive yourself insane if you went on like this. 

Tapping on Namjoon’s contact, you caved, pressing the phone to your ear to hear the two deep notes before they abruptly stopped.

“Hello?” He rasped, clearing his throat at the gravelly voice he’d just displayed, you staying silent on the other line as guilt seeped through your veins.

“Were you sleeping?” He hears your much too awake voice say through the phone, shaky in a way that had him alert in an instant. 

“No, no,” he lied, sitting up against the headboard as his brows furrowed in worry, “what’s wrong?” he asked immediately, concern taking over his tone as he heard you hesitate, balls of his feet landing on the ground as he clutched the phone tighter at the sound of your sniffle. 

The mere question made tears collect on your water line, lower lip trembling as your face scrunched up in a silent cry that wracked your shoulders. 

Trying your best to regain your composure, you ran a hand through your hair, pushing it away from your face as your stare directed out the window adjacent to you. 

“I don’t even know how it escalated so much but we got into a fight, he left, we broke up.” You blurt out, biting down on your lip to silence the sob coming up your throat and threatening to spill out into the microphone of your device.

There was a heavy moment of silence between the two of you, one that would typically be filled with a joke or poking fun at the other for their awkwardness. But this one was tense, Namjoon’s anger bubbling in his chest echoing in the silence as you stifled your cries.

He’d been there for you for multiple breakups, being the shoulder for you to cry on each time someone broke your heart. It was heartbreaking for him as well, seeing you so shattered over someone who didn’t deserve you. Someone who didn’t deserve your love in the first place. 

“Fuck.” He mumbled, pausing for a moment at a loss for words. “Are you okay? That’s a stupid question, of course you’re not.” He answered himself, grabbing his glasses from his bedside table to slide atop his ears. 

“I’m coming over.” He announced, standing from the mattress and stumbling over to his wardrobe, pulling out a pair of sweatpants to hastily slip on as he lifted his shoulder to his ear in order to hold the phone so that he could still hear you.

Immediately, you began to shake your head no, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see you. 

“Joonie, don’t, I’m sorry for calling-“

“Love, I’m coming over. I’m already on my way.” 

When Namjoon arrived, you couldn’t help but collapse into his arms, his strong limbs wrapping you up in a tight hug as he shut the front door behind him. 

“I’m so sorry, love. I’m sorry.” He whispered, hand placed on the back of your head as your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs, his own heart breaking at the sound of your choked cries being muffled into his shirt. 

He stood with you in his grip for a few minutes, letting you cry in his arms as he swayed you comfortingly side to side. 

“Can I walk you over to the couch?” He inquired softly, getting a stoic nod from you in response, never lifting you head from his chest as he began shuffling both your bodies over to the living room. 

You blindly followed his lead as he lowered himself down onto the couch, placing you beside him on the cushion and welcoming you closer when you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

Rubbing his palm up and down your spine, he watched as you steadily began to breathe slower. 

“What happened?” He murmured, watching with gentle eyes as you lifted your head from his body, pouting as you sat up straight against the back of the sofa, looking down at your lap dejectedly. 

Shoulders heaving in a long sigh, you ran a hand through your hair to push it away from your face, the patience exuding from the figure next to you easing you slightly. 

“I was the one who ended things.” 

Namjoon made a quiet noise of surprise from his spot next to you, eyebrows raised slightly as his eyes widened. 

Out of all the relationships you’d been in during his time of knowing you, you’d always been the one who was broken up with. Your history with dating had left Namjoon angry time and time again at the brutal endings that had come along with it. 

“What’d he do?” He asked firmly, tone protective yet knowing as his eyes implored your sullen figure. Fiddling with your fingers, you blew out a sigh, bra it yourself for the explanation to come. 

“Do you remember Hobi’s party?” You asked, Namjoon cocking his head in confusion at the abrupt question.

“Remember when I stormed off and you had to come find me?” You elaborated, a light bulb sparking in Namjoon’s brain as he slowly nodded. Yes, he did remember that.

He remembered coming back from the restroom and not being able to find you, clueless as to where you’d gone before his friends filled him in that you’d suddenly fled without reason. 

Circling the yard several times without finding you, he walked into Hoseok’s house, poking his head into each room with no luck. 

It was when he glanced out the window of the kitchen that he saw a light outside in the dark; a phone screen lighting up none other than your face, low to the ground making him scrunch his brows in confusion before scrambling to exit the house to make sure you were okay. 

Namjoon, ever the gentle giant, couldn’t walk quietly to save his life, shoes pounding against the pavement with each long stride he took toward your hunched over frame. 

The sound of his footsteps had only jarred you slightly, setting your phone down in your lap with a sigh as he sat down beside you on the curb of his friend’s driveway. 

“How’d you end up here?” He had asked, ready to poke fun at you before he noticed the sad gleam in your eye, a frown suddenly overtaking his face as you merely shrugged in response. 

It was a complete contrast to how you’d been just before he’d left for the bathroom, laughing and singing and having fun with him and his friends. He didn’t know what could’ve possibly happened in that short time he was gone. But you were upset, which automatically made him upset.

He tensed up when he realized you might want to be left alone, opening his mouth to ask if that’s what you wanted but pausing once you scooted toward him to rest your head on his shoulder. 

He remembered the words you whispered after a few moments of heavy silence, Namjoon’s heart pounding in his chest as your hands wrapped around his bicep.

I love you.

Moments like that were the hardest for him. Of course he remembered. 

“Yeah. Well, I stormed out because he was letting this girl sit on his lap, practically making out with her.” You scoffed, picking at a string dangling from the sleeve of your shirt as you frowned at the memory.

Silence absorbing the room, you glanced up at Namjoon, unsurprised by the perturbed look on his face.

Namjoon seemed beyond appalled before the emotions on his face turned into anger, his once gaped mouth tightly shut, clenching his jaw while his eyes shot daggers at the man who was no longer in your life. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He finally spoke, facial expression hardening by the second with the new information. 

“I was embarrassed, Joon. Obviously him going to someone else is a message that I’m not enough. I didn’t want anyone to know that, not even you.” You shrugged, Namjoon’s face scrunching in confusion at your explanation.

“That’s such bullshit. He’s sleazy. That’s why he went to someone else. His actions don’t insinuate anything about you.” He fumed, causing you to shrug tiredly.

“It was fucked up, and he knew it. He apologized, said he was just drunk.” You sighed, playing with your fingers in your lap again as Namjoon listened, glancing at your side profile as you heaved another deep exhale. 

“I bought it then, but I don’t believe a word of it now. She’s been blowing up his phone ever since that night.” You confessed, Namjoon’s eyebrows knitting together at your words.

“Was he,” Namjoon started lowly, not daring to finish the sentence he had began. 

“I don’t know, I can’t prove it, but he was messaging her all the fucking time, Joon. It made me feel really weird.” You sighed, resting your elbow on the back of the couch to place your temple onto your palm, letting your eyes fall shut in exhaustion.

“I wouldn’t feel good about that either. God, what a fucking dick.” He said in disbelief, looking at your tired form with a sympathetic frown before shuffling his body closer to you.

“C’mere.”

You heard the return of his soft voice call for you, reaching his arm out behind your back to welcome you into his chest, wrapping you up in a tight hug as he rested his chin on the top of your head. 

“I’ll always be here for you.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair and making you exhale a sigh against him. 

“I know you will. Thank you.” You whispered, clutching onto his soft shirt with a ball of your fist into the fabric. 

“And I’m gonna kick his ass.”

You exhaled a small wheeze at that, burying your face into his shirt, his solid figure providing a comfortable headrest for you. 

“You’re not gonna kick his ass, Joon. You’re too good for that.” You patted his shoulder fondly, sniffling against him as his hand circled your spine. 

Namjoon sighed, knowing you were right. He’d never be able to. But god, if only he was a little tougher. He’d beat any asshole who decided to toss your love away.

Tucking his neck in to look down at you, he recognized the closing of your eyelids, your breathing slowing as you fell into slumber. 

Your eyelashes fanned out onto your cheeks, the skin slightly pink from the salt that had been trailing down from your eyes earlier. Your hair was caught in the dampness, causing Namjoon to gently gather the strands and push it back behind your ears. 

Carefully turning his body around the sofa, he slowly lowered his back to the cushions, you snuggling up on his chest as his hand rested on the crown of your head. 

Staring at the ceiling, he could not fathom the fact that someone would choose anything over this. Over you. He had your love, and he threw it away. It angered Namjoon to no end.

Namjoon, who had been your protector since second grade when he’d helped you get your hair untangled from the swingset. He still remembered the vision when he’d seen it get caught from across the schoolyard, running away from the soccer game him and his friends had been playing in order to help you. 

He could still picture your big eyes staring at him as he untwisted your hair from the chain, explaining to you that he had experience doing this because it’d happened to his younger sister so many times.

You’d been quite shy then, only saying a polite thank you when he was done and taking his slightly sweaty hand to shake it when he offered it to you.

“Namjoon. I’m new.” He explained with a smile, withdrawing his hand to push his glasses up his nose before backing away from you as his friend called out for him.

“I’ll see you later!”

From that day on, you and Namjoon had steadily grown closer, running around with each other at recess and sitting together at lunch. You’d broken out of your shell with him after spending so much time together, your shyness slowly fading as he gained your trust.

As you went into middle school, you two stayed close despite every other friend duo or trio breaking up, the both of you managing to avoid drama all the way through your freshman year. 

That was the year Namjoon got his first girlfriend.

They’d only dated a few months, but he’d been left heartbroken when she wanted to split up. It was you that came to his rescue, stopping at his house with his favorite takeout and rocking him from side to side when he eventually broke down in your arms. 

You had always been there. And his crush had been too, but he’d, through years of suppressing it, gotten to a point where he could act like it wasn’t. 

After all, you were best friends. And that was enough for Namjoon. Having you in his life in any capacity was enough.

•••

You awoke a few hours later to a blinding light in your living room, sun piercing your swollen eyes making you cover them with your palms, a groan slipping past your lips at the heavy weight of your eyelids protesting your consciousness. 

Rubbing them to hopefully soothe the feeling, you pulled your hands away from your face, grasping the blanket on top of you in confusion. 

Dropping your head back down onto the couch, your mind raced with flashbacks from last night. The way he had screamed at you when you’d reached for his phone when it wouldn’t stop ringing because of that fucking girl, how it had turned into a huge argument that ended in you breaking up with him, collapsing in tears as soon as he left. 

You felt dizzy at the memory, the nearly two hour long argument draining you mentally, emotionally, and physically. 

You remembered calling Namjoon, him coming over-

Namjoon. Where was he?

Opening your eyes again, you tried to sit up, scooting your butt back on the couch to straighten your spine. It cracked as you did so, causing you to groan lightly as you turned your neck, sleepily looking around your living room. 

Finding your cell phone on the coffee table, you reached your arm over to retrieve it, looking at the bright screen with squinted eyes. 

Bypassing the rest of your notifications, you read the timestamp, concluding with a sigh that Namjoon had most likely left last night and already departed for work.

Standing up off of the couch, blanket still draped over your shoulders, you shuffled to your bedroom, plopping yourself down on your bed face down with a grunt. 

You couldn’t help the way your mind started spinning with the events of the last few months, the spiral and eventual downfall of your relationship. 

Was he the love of your life? Probably not. But fuck, you’d devoted time and emotion to him, you’d defended him to your family and friends and made yourself look like an ass while doing so over him, and you still weren’t enough. You weren’t enough.

Silent tears began soaking the pillow below you, your sniffles filling the room as you covered your face with the blanket, trapping yourself in the darkness beneath the tent of fabric. 

Finally, the fresh tears stopped falling, your bedroom once again encased in silence as you shut your sore eyes, hoping for some sleep to distract yourself for a bit.

Just as you were about to plunge into sleep, you startled awake at the sudden feeling of a hand on your shoulder before settling at the familiar warmth and size of the palm. Namjoon. Your gentle, goofy, over-sized best friend.

“Hello?” He called to you, tugging at the blanket again to which you released your grip, allowing him to see the wet trails down your reddened cheeks as you pouted up at him.

The devastated look on his face made you feel even worse, never liking to see Namjoon with such a glum expression.

His dimpled smile belonged on his face, the gentle scrunch of his nose when he laughed at something making him look not too far off from when you used to make him laugh in elementary school. 

Seeing Namjoon sad was always a trigger to you, and with your current mental state, it was no exception. You couldn’t hold back the choked sob that came out of your mouth, Namjoon instantly sitting back against the headboard and welcoming you into his side as you crawled to him. 

“Oh, love.” He frowned, hand trailing up and down your spine to coax your cries. 

“It hurts, Joon.” You whimpered, the man soothing your hair back with a frown.

“I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He said softly, not knowing what other words to say. 

Honestly, he was fucking furious at him. Furious for playing with your heart like that. But he needed to be here for you, present to make sure you were coping healthily. 

“I thought you left for work.” You whispered, Namjoon humming softly in response.

“Mm, no, I called out. I just went to go pick up some coffee.” He explained, gesturing over to your bureau where two to-go cups of coffee sat side by side. 

“Why’d you call-”

“Because you need me and I’m not going to leave you. Plus, I woke up late today anyway. There was no time for me to go back home and get dressed then get there.” 

“You didn’t have to call out for me, Joon.”

“Love, I wanted to. I promise.” He said, causing you to sigh against him. 

“Thank you.” You mumbled, not knowing quite what you did to deserve such a selfless person in your life. 

When it came to absolute sweethearts, Namjoon took the cake.

“Plus, now I can spend my day with my favorite person. Who’d give that up?” He squeezed your shoulder, raising his eyebrows when you stirred in your position.

His words caused you to pick your head up off of him, Namjoon ignoring the daggers you sent him while he smoothed your fuzzy bedhead down with his palm. 

“You wanted to spend your day with a crying broken me? Really?” You practically scoffed, Namjoon squeezing your shoulder in response. 

“Hey, crying you is still you. You’ll always be my favorite person.” He defended himself, you shaking your head at him with a small smile. 

Laying back down against him, he latched an arm around your waist, securing you in his hold and making you exhale a bit of the tension in your body. 

“Wanna watch something?” He looked from the blank television back to you snuggled against his side, your nod causing his arm to reach over the bureau to grab the remote. 

“The usual?” He wondered, beginning to type the letters into the search bar when you nodded once again. 

Setting the remote down as the Looney Tunes introduction music played from the speaker, both your and Namjoon’s eyes glued to the screen as you lost yourselves in the nostalgia it provided. 

It brought you back to simpler times, when you were in fifth grade having your after school snack at Namjoon’s house, fruit that his mother had cut up for the two of you. 

It brought you back to simpler times when stupid men hadn’t wormed their way into your heart, only to reject you once they had you. 

Being brought back to earth by the man beside you with his hand trailing through your hair, you closed your eyes, thanking him in your head for always knowing what you needed. 

You knew you’d be okay eventually. Namjoon wouldn’t let you fail.

He never had.

[murasakispace]

Adam/Shindo Ainosuke X Male Reader

Author's note : Adam needs a bit of love, don't you think? A little love that doesn't imply to hurt Tadashi. It doesn't prevent that it is certainly crap. English is not my main language and it must be awful.

Warnings : NSFW, spanking, degradation and all the BDSM pack.

You were a newcomer, a rookie here. In S. You had the time to watch the local legends fall from their safe sky on the large screens. The most incredible was the race against Langa. Well... You were still wondering if his name was really Langa. Maybe you misunderstood, hidden in your shadows. First Joe, then Cherry and finally Adam. You had to admit their style was eclectic. Even them had to learn again. They were believing themselves as gods because they were the founders of a clandestin course. It made you shrug a little while you were observing them.

People were people. Here, in S, freedom was at its most powerful. A place were no one could say, order to someone something he doesn't want to do. Everything was ruled by skateboard and the people's talent. You were quite happy of that. Because of an accident years ago in mountains with your motorbike while you were heading to the summit so as to practice snowboard. You had the ambition to reach the Winter Olympic Games in half-pipe. You fell from a cliff and you miraculously landed meters below with broken ribs instead of your backbone.

During years you suffered and your dream of medals in the Olympic Games was gone, vanished into the air. Your well-known recklessness almost hurried you in your grave. In the hospital, you spent the last three years to reeducate with an omnipresent pain in your back, anger against the people who had forgotten you when you would have given them your soul if they asked for it an ended alone. You nearly lost your mind when you woke up from coma and nothing appeared in front of you. You weren't able to see anymore. Time went by and you found yourself offered the chance to remedy to your blindness. But it doomed you to wear particular sunglasses every day of your life. A little cost considering what you've been through.

You suffered. You were still aching but less than these last month. Moreover you felt better each day passing. Only eternal scars remain. And to be here in S got you like you were free as much as before your accident. And you would thank Adam for this. Yet, you meant nothing, watching the same scenes which were playing in front of your eyes.

You were sitting on your motorbike far behind the last people composing the crowds ahead of you. Actually, the last time you came at S was when Adam had been defeated. Since then, you weren't coming as often as you should now. Everything was more peaceful and Adam abandoned this bad habit to smash people in the face with his own skateboard. Of course, the blue-haired show-off would never stop to make his little shows and big entrances. You don't think that one day his "hey bitches and bros and non-binary hoes" would leave your mind so easily.

Yet, even if you admired Adam as an remarkable skater, you wouldn't prevent yourself to hate him for everything he was aside all of it. He was "in love" as he told to anyone who would like to hear it with his partners of race. It was nothing like love. You didn't know how you manage to not go through the crowds to slap him right in the face. He didn't understand. He wouldn't anyway. Love is sweet, a fluttering sentiment which set upside-down your guts and your soul. It wasn't how you remembered this wonderful thing.

Anyways, Adam had been defeated by a rookie that you had the power to crush on a snowboard. Even if he was talented, had he the talent of someone able to go in the Olympic Games? You didn't think so. You had yourself a modified board. And right now before the attended race between two opponents, you were as if you were playing on the half-pipe near the start of the race.

You were jumping even higher than this little rookie and executing figures in air that were turning sick some of the people gathered in your audience. You were hearing the slight gasps of awe coming from several girls watching them. Even Langa applaused you in the distance with an annoying smile. That little group comprehending Shadow, Reki, Langa, Miya and the others was sincerely uselessly noisy. Though, they were sometimes giving you back a smile you had long forgotten it was existing. But you didn't care anymore. You were busy with your "switched back flip with nose grab" and to make people applause even louder around you.

They were kind and cute because even if the trick wasn't so hard, doing it on a skateboard was something else. And it earned you the nickname of Eagle in S. You were impressive to say the least and people were clearly stunned. What you didn't expect was to attract the boss' attention here. Adam. Actually, his little grieves left you as if you were like marble.

Not only was he sticking to you but he also was quite insisting in his behavior. You didn't like him at all. It may have been the second or the third night that you came on the half-pipe of S. No one challenged you that time. You just shrugged your shoulders and were going on the way to leave this place. The pressure, the people gathered here, the races and the clear lack of delicacy from them made you get away from here. A sort of repulsion ordered you to go away. A skatepark would be big enough to allow you to do the same show for any passerby. After all what was the point of tiring yourself by skating if no one could applause for your demonstration of pure talent. And today, several nights after Adam's defeat, you were leaving S for good this time. It has no point for you to stay.

Yet, Adam didn't want the same. He was observing you before Langa. So he caught you up while lights were dancing around him.

"Mmh... What a wonderful little bird I see here. Don't be scared my dove, I'm not going to bite you." Adam said both loudly and sensually, thus it made crowds look in the same moment towards you.

A heavy silence has just fallen onto the crowds. You have heard the wheels of Adam's skateboard behind you. And he came, leaving his hand on your hips, getting you closer and closer to him. You could feel his hands roaming and doing delicate circles on the fabric of your clothes. Such an intimate action while you could almost feel his head rest on your shoulder. He made a little comment about your scent. Does this man have really no shame ?

"Aren't you tired of your own bullshit, Adam? Losing once wasn't enough to bring humility in you?" you snapped back while the man gazed at you.

"Never, my sweet, stubborn little dove" Ainosuke whispered in your ear while his hands were circling around your waists.

His sweet, gentle, poisonous tone was near to give you shivers. You weren't able to discern within yourself if it was a sort of trespassing desire that was boiling in you or a fire of rage and the deep will to smash him with your skateboard. Probably both. Let's agree on the fact that this man was a living invitation to luxury and rough love. You were just a little smaller than him but strong enough to make him comply and kneel in front of you like a slut. You clicked your tongue and forcefully escaped from Adam's treacherous embrace.

"Alright Eagle. I challenge you into a beef" Adam called behind you.

"Carry on" You answered back while the crowds become immediately silent were watching you with great interest.

"A race. You and me. Right now. The loser become the slave of his opponent." Adam added with his usual disturbing smile.

For one of the first times since you were coming in S, it was one of your first beefs. Moreover, with the boss of all that mess. And finally, it involved something hidden behind all of this display. And you liked it. Why not enjoying fully the race and the aftermath. You used the back extremity of your skateboard you hit Adam in the belly and making him move backwards. You were almost ecstatic. You walked calmly until the start line, put lightly your skateboard on the ground and set your foot on the deck while you were waiting for Adam to come. Obviously, he made his way towards you.

"Mmh... I'll enjoy to turn you upside down after this race" Adam sensually whispered.

"Your self-confidence will kill you one day, filthy man" you replied with a dry tone.

"Let's say that now that I've lost my Eve, the only person in S having my attention is you my little dove. Be ready, I'm not going to be easy on you"

These last sentences would the death of you. His magma-like voice was burning your insides. How can someone warm you up so efficiently? That was a mystery. But you liked it. Adam was well-known to be kinky. You hated a little yourself at that time. You were falling for an insane guy who is now targeting you. Obviously, it was not in a romantic way. Yet, Adam remained a reachable fanstasm. And you were apparently one of his. The green fire came rapidly, thus the start of the race.

Adam became fastly the first. You forgot about everything and just tried to have fun. You were skating as if your board was a part of yourself, dodging rocks and Adam's attack. You knew very well that he didn't change that much after his first defeat here. He even did his little thing of holding you close to him with the sort of horns on his skateboard.

" I love the movement of your hips, so agile, so smooth, I can't prevent myself to wonder what it will feel like to love you fully until you will ache for attention under my touch. You are a snowboarder too, right?" Adam asked more or less.

"You could say that. But I'm not like that kid. I prefer half-pipes. Besides, you have really no shame, haven't you? Anyways, goodbye."

You increased your speed and left Adam behind. You were jumping the cliffs where the turns formed the shape of a snake with the lights in the night. While you were flying, you were shining with more and more complicated figures and graceful landings, making you significantly ahead of the blue-haired holy creature named Adam. He managed very quickly to catch you up. A little smile was playing on your lips. That was funny to see him a little bit in difficulty.

You were provoking him. That was unbelievable and remarkably bold of you to do so. You annoying smile was allowing to build desire and longing in Adam's heart. He was the king and yet, a little dove was playing with him shamelessly. Adam was so mesmerized by your own race that he barely realized he was in the factory. The screams of the people gathered in there dragged him from his thoughts. He saw you fly until the finish line and cross it. You win against him. A huge silent welcomed him.

"One of the first things you have not to lose when you run is your own concentration. I don't know what happened to you but it doesn't prevent that you weren't really skating. So for the beef, I cancel the slave thing." You declared when Adam went towards you.

You turned your back to him and headed to your motorbike followed by the blue-haired man. You didn't want to stay any longer. Adam's footsteps were soft behind yours.

"How can you cancel the slave thing, as you called it?" Adam demanded.

Seeing that he didn't have any answer, Adam reached you to catch your shoulder and make you turn to look at him.

"Because I'm the winner" you responded with a threatening tone.

"So having me doesn't interest you?" Adam questioned with a spark of deception.

"I didn't say that" you replied with a playful half-smile crossing your lips.

You were surrounded by darkness and no one cared anymore about you. For the people, you were remedying with your little issues about the beef. Nothing very interesting for them. Your hand climbed Adam's tensed thigh before going backwards to his ass and caressing it shamelessly. You heard the man getting a heavier breath and mumbling sinner sentences in your ear. You didn't even move when he came closer to enjoy the caress.

"Adam... You are such a slut... Look at you, you sound like a virgin discovering sex" You told with an incredible amount of heat on your voice.

You left your fingers coming down on his half-hard dick and rub it lightly. Just enough to give shivers to the man.

"Horny, aren't we?" you carried on while Adam was melting under your touch.

It was only simple caresses yet the man in front of you was letting himself go as if you were escaping and he won't have anymore opportunities to have you so close.

"More" demanded Adam while he has finally what he wanted so hard.

But you stopped here, creating frustration in the man.

"There's a love hotel down Crazy Rock. Come with your Grim Reaper costume." You requested with an overbearing tone.

Adam ordered to Tadashi who wasn't present in S that night to bring him to this place and the black clothes he was wearing against Langa. Once arrived in the building, he headed towards the receptionist who led him until the room. The space was dark and very classical for a love hotel but it was enough to arouse Adam. He felt as if your hands were still on him while he was changing his red costume. The memory of your hands trailing down his back to reach his ass and caressing it shamelessly was still unbelievably strong in his mind. Then he felt the touch join his cock, gently but still enough to make surrender to your touch. He desired you so much right now. Once he wore his Grim Reaper clothes, he laid down the mattress. He let himself go to the warmth he was feeling. He already wanted you so hard. He thought he was still dreaming when he felt the sudden touch of your hand on his neck.

"Ready to cum due to a shameless imagination. What a dirty little pet we have here. Were you planning to touch while you would wait for me? " You whispered in Adam's ear, getting him to have goosebumps.

Your fingers went down along his spine then reached the start of his ass. You were riding him from behind, each of your legs apart Ainosuke's body. You spanked his cheeks violently when you see you wouldn't get your answer, making the man moaning of both pain and pleasure.

"Use your tongue. You still have one, right?" you picked up after this unwanted silence.

"Yes" mumbled the submitted man.

"Louder. I don't hear you."you commanded.

"Yes"

He was speaking at the volume you wanted to listen. Loudly but not enough to disturb people out there.

"Better" you acknowledged with a neutral tone.

You got away from the position you have over Ainosuke. You were looking for the bad you brought with you. In the corner of your eye, you remarked the presence of a mirror. It could be useful but not now. You were secretly impatient to play with the king of S. You glanced at him and couldn't prevent a half-smile on your face. His hips were slightly higher than what would be normal. The blue-haired man was aching for your touch. Unhappily, it seemed sometimes you weren't as mean as some of masters with their human pet when it comes to tough, rough and painful but delicious sex. Well... It didn't matter actually. Your beautiful puppy lying on the mattress would love it anyway. You sincerely enjoyed the fact that this natural dominant male was completely under your control.

"Get up and kneel. Be rid of your clothes and keep your eyes on the wall. If you look at me I leave you here, tied and with a toy in your ass until you faint. Is that clear?" You ordered with a severe voice.

You didn't get any answer immediately.

"Yes". You heard behind you.

"Yes who?" You added.

"Yes Master" Adam ended while he just worked to be in his knees over the blankets.

The man got rid of his suit not so quickly. The fabric was comfortable and smooth, suiting perfectly his body. The memory of your touch was almost disappearing with him leaving aside all the clothes. He ended naked on the bed, his pale skin revealed to the air. He kept his eyes locked on the wall and he didn't have any access to the mirror to watch what you were doing. He only heard some noises somewhere behind him. Adam was shivering litghtly because of anticipation. He didn't want you to be kind with him. The rougher the better. Anyways, love and pain were both the faces of a coin, right? He submits but you serve.

Ainosuke felt your hand climbing along his leg and rest a few seconds on his thigh. You slided a lubed toy in his hole. You went as deeply as you could without bruising you pet and without leaving without any sensations. His insides were slightly stretched enough to emphasize the rubbing which you started from a few feets away.

You had the time to change in a black leathery pants and high boots, all black, with an open shirt lazily flying along your sides. After that, you were just watching Ainosuke's nakedness from behind. He was well-shaped. You couldn't say more. And this beautiful insane man was craving for your attention. You knew the effect the toy had. The more Adam was holding back his moan, the more the toy is going to make him lose his mind. You knew very well that the man had a certain endurance. Yet, it had no effect when the right points within his body were touched and loved.

You were still gentle. You could be more cruel and less careful about your little pet. Adam knew it very well. He was sure he looked like a little virgin taking pleasure for the first time but the thing inside of him suppressed all of his strength. He was grunting and moaning like a whore and he loved it. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't you.

"More..." Breathed the man while his whole body was totally shaking.

"More? Really?" you asked while you were enjoying the frustration on Adam's face and the red hue on his cheeks.

"Inside me... Touch me..."you went to caress Ainosuke's naked ass before spanking it another time.

"You have no permission to cum, dirty pet. I'll punish you otherwise."you warned with a threatening tone in your voice.

The heat was slightly consuming the blue-haired man and pleasure was way too heavy for him, almost choking sometimes. You would be the death of him if it carried on.

"Please..."Adam silently begged while you were heading to an armchair not far away from the display in front of you.

Were you sadistic? Probably. You had one of your legs hanging on the side of your seat and watching Ainosuke fighting the destroying pleasure inside of him. You were so desirable. No one would ever say the contrary. It was only the start for your adorable pet. But it wasn't enough for you.

"Come here." You commanded with a monotonous but commanding tone in your voice.

You saw Adam moving to reach you. He stumbled on the few meters he had to make to come at you. He knelt in front of you but it sounded more like he wasn't able to carry his own weigh. He was looking up at you with eyes tainted of pleasure. He caressed your legs as any good cat would do to please his master and get some food or any touch. Your hand reached his chin and you lift it without any delicacy. A few more and Adam was going to surrender and leaving himself being overwhelmed by pleasure. His red eyes were blurry and full of lust and you locked yours on his. Your hand went in his hair and you brought him closer to you.

"Take it. And do it well, slut" you requested with an overbearing tone.

You felt shaking hands roaming over your leather pants and undo the belts resting on your hips. His fingers freed your half-hard dick but he was too slow.

"Faster" you ordered.

Adam put his finger on the skin of your shaft, then his lips. You hardly held back a grunt of pleasure while you were feeling his hot mouth around your cock. That was divine but not enough. You settled your fingers in Ainosuke's hair and pulled it closer.

"Come on, slut"

The blue-haired man wasn't slow but it wasn't fast enough and it frustrated you. You ordered him for more speed and he did it. Adam was all focus on your pleasure, worshipping you with his tongue and his lips. It was warm inside his mouth. You wanted to dirty your sub with your seeds and make him feel like a doll in your hands. Besides, you increased the speed of the toy inside Adam's ass. He was fighting tou bring you pleasure and not to cum. His whole body must ache but you didn't really care. You wanted more. You helped a little Ainosuke with his movements. His tongue was caressing you shamelessly, and he was all focused on you. You were almost fucking his throat.

"You are really a whore my pet. Worse than a dog in heat. Loot at you"

You led his eyes to the mirror not far from you. Adam moaned when he saw the image of himself. The red hue on his cheeks while he was taking your cock into his mouth. The sight was mesmerizing. Then, lower, the pre-sperm was dripping from his own sex. Adam wasn't able to suffer it anymore and the last image had been the death of his limits and he cummed lankily on the ground. His muscles all tensed relaxed in a few seconds. He spilled his white liquid everywhere at the bottom of the armchair while he was moaning with your shaft still in his throat.

You raised your hand and gave him an echoing slap which made the blue-haired man fall on his back, covered of his dirty sperm. You perceived Adam hard cock raising between his legs.

"Kinky whore. You are not even able to handle it, right? Such a disobedient little puppy. You'll be punished, you know that, aren't you?" you threatened with a sweet voice, penetrating under Ainosuke's flesh.

You were watching your pet getting up from his position on the ground.

"Be happy that I'm not going to order you to lick it, silly kitten. On the bed, now. Twenty whiplash, and if you are not obedient, I'll double that number. Understood?"

"Please Master, no!" Adam surprisingly begged with and hoarse voice to you.

"This is the cost for your insolence and disobedience. It could be a hundred so take what I allow you" You replied without any softness.

You gave the order to your dog to be astride on the bed, on all four. Adam settled over the blankets and stayed still. The man heard you get the tool in your hand. And without telling him, he felt a painful burn on his ass, followed by your hand which rubbed it. Ainosuke heard himself grunt to the sudden soothing caress.

"It was the first. I won't be that kind after. Count them. At any mistake, It'll be thirty"

You blowed him again and your sub was counting but it was painful and red traces were appearing on his skin. You weren't soft with him and appreciated his delicious reactions of suffering and adoration. The toy was still in his ass, driving him crazy from both inside and outside. Adam wasn't able to keep up anymore and at the end on the punishment, he fell over the blankets, naked, full of shame, pleasure and love. He was crying due to the overwhelming amount of feelings. His shaft was so hard that it was painful and he wanted freedom from you. His pants were perceptible in the silence of the room. The blue-haired man felt your hand on his ribcage and forcefully turn him on his back.

He saw climb over the mattress and settle near him. Your finger roamed over your pet's belly and touch his nipples, making him shiver and grunt. Your softness was welcome for Adam. His body was aching due to tension and slaps but pleasure was still present in his blood and adrenaline was keeping him conscious. Suddenly, the toy Ainosuke had in his ass had a different movement, more intense, more rubbing and making him moan loudly.

"Did you seriously think it was ended?" you questioned with a playful tone. "No. Of course not".

You got up and put yourself in a riding way. You pushed your shaft inside Adam's mouth and start to fuck his throat again. Fingers curling down the sheets and becoming white. Your sub was testifying of this pleasure. And you were too. Your hips were getting faster and faster and Adam's eyes were rolling backwards while pleasure was burning him. You were silently moaning and keeping your features still but it was hard when your little pet's tongue was that agile and smart to find the areas able to make you shudder. It felt like eternity till you finally cummed inside of Ainosuke's mouth. Your sub swallowed everything and as a reward you ordered him to change of position and to rest on his belly. You removed the toy from his ass and caressed it softly.

"Master..." called quietly Adam.

"Mmh?" you responded with distance in your behavior towards him.

"Please. Fuck me." begged silently the man.

Where was Adam, the king of S, almost undefeated? Where was the show-off, the insane guy? You knew very well where he was. He was subdued to every of your desire now, drunken by pain and pleasure, knocked by envy. He wanted you in the simplest way. The incubus became the innocent virgin and you were his master. Nothing was left from the skater man that you met at the nightfall. He was just a body aching for softness after a hardship, pleading for quietness now. And more sincere than he never had been until tonight. He needed you.

"Please Master..." whispered again Adam.

But his begging stopped when Adam felt your dick against his hole. A slight moan escaped from him and you started to bury yourself in him. His insides were warm and comfortable but so tight. The rubbing was divine and you could help yourself but start to fuck his ass very slowly to push him to worship you. Adam had his hips hanging a little in air as you were thrusting to give you both an amazing amount of pleasure.

"P-Please Master... More..." moaned Adam while you were almost hitting his ass.

It was so nice to see the man so submitted to his needs coming from you. You couldn't help yourself but started to thrust more and more quickly and fastly. The sound of your flesh against each other was echoing in the room and you liked it. You got rougher and rougher but it was still nice and finally, you let yourself be. You felt Adam's hole tightening around your shaft for the second time. Your hands slide down his hips to find his own sex so as to apply languid caresses. It was too much for him and his muscled yet thin body sank on the bed and you followed him in his climax not long after him.

You were panting heavily and your pet was actually nearly fainting. You took him into a warm embrace and rubbed his skin to soothe him. You didn't have the time for a real aftercare because he fell asleep immediately. You would wait him to take a needed shower. For the time that you had, you left him be.

Adam had been a wonderful sub. You were happy. But you didn't have the intention to stay with him. If he wanted you, then maybe you should have a more serious and deeper conversation. But now, it wasn't what you wanted.

[saphirered]

Hi there, I love your blog! Your writing is so good and feels so in line with the characters, if your request are still open I was wondering if you can do general hcs for vax? Nothing in particular just romantic dates or hanging around the keep or in battle etc. Bonus points for how the rest of vox machina treats vax x reader :) lots of love 💜

I hope this one’s to your liking 😘

Your first date was less of a date and more of a mission that turned into a date. Vox Machina had been employed to shadow some noble possibly involved with some kind of possibly dangerous cult. You had to blend into high society and couldn’t simply rely on the shadows Vax felt most comfortable around. Even though he may have been raised among respectable society in Syngorn, high society like the one you had to blend into was more your specialty. You were their ticket to the circles they needed to meddle with. Dressed to the nines you were quite the sight to behold managing to take the poor man’s breath away, among others. Vax made it a point to entwine his arm with yours whenever he had the chance and stick to your side for the whole event. After you proved the noble you were sent to watch innocent you stayed to enjoy the part. Such an invitation shouldn’t go to waste after all… At least that’s what Vax claimed. You’re pretty sure he appreciated the time away from the others.

More lowkey invitations found their way to you from Vax. An invitation to take you on a walk around town, some fun out in a less restricted setting than the high society parties, dinner and dancing, and even a night under the stars, made its way to you. You were more than happy to accept. Just as promised each and every date was perfect in its own way purely because you got to spend more time together. 

You had to find out the hard way Vax had been making excuses to the rest of Vox Machina why he was going out or didn’t come back to the keep some nights. You understood but would have preferred a heads up so you could get your stories straight before you were caught by Grog and Pike one night in the tavern. It took a Modify Memory spell to make Grog think he only saw the two of you together in some kind of drunken stupor. Pike was a bit easier to persuade to keep your ‘thing’ a secret and knowing her well enough, the both of you trusted her to keep the secret until the two of you were ready to figure out where this ‘thing’ was going. 

Defining what you were to each other was easy. You had feelings for each other. Love even and you could see yourselves spending your days together, however long that may be. Vax has a tendency to get stuck in his own head when it comes to planning a distant future but you put no pressure on him. No need for talks of getting married, having children or even grandchildren. You take it day by day acknowledging that every relationship has his ups and downs but as long as you have each other’s backs through it all and are supportive of each other you’re more than satisfied with what you have going. You bring each other happiness. 

You’re each other’s support system knowing you can trust on one another when the world looks bleak and the odds hopeless. You acknowledge that yes sometimes space and time is what the other needs to process, but you’re never far and know how to read each other’s tells when you do need support, be that a heartfelt conversation, a reality check, or a shoulder to cry on. You’re there for each other no matter what. 

Vax would often come back from far travels with a little gift he brought back for you wherever he went. A beautiful feather from a bird, a jewelled necklace, an odd trinket would be presented to you upon his return. Each one with a meaning, and every single one of them as valuable as the next. They held a special place in your heart as much as in your home. 

The siege of Emon happened. It was a terrifying experience but you knew how to handle yourself. Capable and resilient, your magic helped you bring several people to safety. You lost Vox Machina in the fray but knew they could take care of themselves. You had others to protect and get out of the city before it was too late. Gathering who you could you made your way to Greyskull Keep. You got there when the gates opened, people flooding in.

Seeing Vax among the crowd trying to organise the crowd you were relieved he was alive and well. Rushing over he kissed you the moment he saw you, caught up in the moment not caring who saw. Your reunion was cut short by the arrival of an ancient white dragon. Vax initially dragged you along behind a tree but you come in hot and the moment the dragon comes within range hit it with a Disintegrate spell. Your next actions show Vax very clearly you know exactly how to handle yourself. Though, from the corner of your eye you can see him cringe when you do get slammed into a wall and to the ground. You avoided getting frozen and get back up into the fight.

The aftermath Vax looks you over to make sure you’re alright. It took a lot to assure him you were fine. Even after getting thrown into a wall slightly bloody and bruised, you’d live. He helped clean up the blood and got Pike to heal your heavier injuries. He spent as much time at your side as he could and after he deemed you well enough let you come with him and help carrying heavier things for the people seeking refuge at the Keep. He got quite worried you might be overexerting yourself which gave you a good glimpse into his protective side. 

After some dragon hunting and things eventually calmed down you finally had more time to spend together, going back to your usual habits. Slowly but surely the two of you found you were ready to fully let the other’s know about your relationship, though some may have had suspicions before. You didn’t necessarily tell them directly. It started with you showing up for your little ‘date night’ with Vax and neither of you sneaking around or making up excuses anymore. Gradually the others caught on to what this meant. You’d be staying over at their place more often and while the two of you had managed to avoid the awkward conversations for the longest of times 

Sitting at the breakfast table one morning, Vax sitting down next to you and pressing a kiss to your temple with an ‘I love you’ may just have been a little too much for some of them. 

Pike of course was happy for you that you finally felt secure enough to share this news and made a little comment that how as a cleric of Sarenrae she legally would be able to officiate a wedding, with an all too innocent smile. 

Keyleth was very happy for the both of you gushing how you made the perfect couple and asking you if you had noticed all the ‘annoying little things’ Vax does and what you thought of them. She bombarded you with questions about how your relationship stared, how romantic it was until you told her you would gladly tell her in moderation or you might just run out of your ability to speak.

Grog didn’t get what was going on until Vax spelled it out for him. Grog came to the realisation that the time you used Modify Memory on him, a spell that had since faded, wasn’t a drunken vision after all and really did happen. He told you you could entrust him with all secrets, is an expert ‘silencer’ (his words) and wouldn’t have to use magic to get him to keep quiet anymore. 

Percy congratulated the two of you on not conforming to the norms of society and actually having a healthy happy relationship not based on the merits of politics and encouraged you to no longer try and bribe the Castle Whitestone staff when sneaking around because they’ll tell him all your dirty little secrets no matter how much you offer them, all jokingly of course. 

Scanlan, oh, Scanlan. How the both of you wished the earth would swallow you whole. Scanlan was being typical Scanlan congratulating for you pulling the stick out of Vax’s ass and loosen him up a bit, complimenting the wonders you must have showed him and speculating the things you must have done to get Vax much more at ease, not without ludicrous and inappropriate innuendoes and hand motions. 

Vex, throughout all of that breakfast hadn’t said a single thing and instead stared at you coldly, arms crossed. When Vax asked her to stop regardless of her opinions towards you or your relationship with her brother you stepped in saying that whatever she felt was valid but that you had no intend on replacing her place in his heart nor getting between them. She’d remain at his side and you from now on would just be on the other side. After that, a death threat followed, telling you you better not break Vax’s heart or a broken heart would be the least of your worries. You made sure that would never be your intention and you really did love her brother as much as he loved you. This seemed to ease her up with it. Over time she grew more accepting towards you to the point where you could call her a close friend, sister even.