#but at least I did a bunch of little additions and fixes in between

[flickering-nightfall]

I wanted to update my design refs (I never posted the old ones, but they're from maybe six months ago now). But then it took forever because I kept putting the iterators into ten bajillion outfits. Well here they are now!

I'll probably do this with the slugcats too.

[fgfluidity]

testing 123

Summary: After the events of bon appetit, the DA has some questions. (Vampire!Damien AU)

Pairings: Damien/DA

Warnings: mentions of blood, coercion, damien being a minor punching bag, adultery

buy me a coffee?

@opprose​ @statictay​ @volbeast​ @otterlyinluv​ @mirrorslament​

“It’s a bunch of flowers.”

“Yes!” The DA smiles at him over their notebook, pen poised to take notes. They already have half a dozen filled pages, and their enthusiasm hasn’t diminished one bit. “Specifically, roses. Careful of the thorns, I couldn’t get all of them off in time.”

Damien fixes them with a raised eyebrow, but he can’t stop a slow smile. It’s just too contagious. “You want to see how I react to roses but you’re worried about me getting pricked?”

It’s a guilty pleasure, really, teasing them. They close their mouth against a prepared response, a little wrinkle forming between their brows as their eyes flick away. “Well,” they mutter, and oh, how wonderful that embarrassment sounds. “We haven’t gotten to that part, yet.”

He grins. “And you care about me.”

“Just sniff your flowers,” they bite back.

He’s pleased enough to catch the beginnings of another smile, and it’s enough to help push back the beast that craves the additional warmth emanating from them. He’s fed, and it’s them.

It’s just some flowers. He puts his nose to them and takes a deep breath.

—

It started when they came to the counter and slammed down a thick file.

“Sorry.” They wince, looking over the cool gray stone. Befitting the material, the counter is unharmed, and they breathe a sigh of relief. “Yes, well, I have some research.”

“Clearly.” He looks over the folder, eyebrows raised in surprise. Thick might just be an understatement; from the looks of it, his friend has amassed a small library’s worth of documents and notes in a stack rivaling the length of his thumb. Hand- or type-written, it’s a lot of effort put in. “What caught you so, this time?”

It’s hardly unusual for them to get caught up in a deep dive of research. It served them— and him, if he’s honest— quite well in university. Hours of lectures and coursework and other responsibilities cut true study time short. Law school is an unforgiving mistress, but with a pot or three of strong coffee or tea and his friend’s unusual quirks, it seemed far more manageable.

If, perhaps, at the cost of said friend’s well-being. Not that he could stop them if he tried, and he has.

Now, it’s thankfully more often relegated to just passing fancies, with the occasional case. Learning about the intricacies of literary symbolism, about animal communication, about the names of both stars and plants… at least this kind of study brings a smile to their face to accompany their dark circles.

Not unlike the one crossing their face now, really. “Something quite important, actually. All of this“ — they slide a hand over the folder to demonstrate— “is a week’s study of… your condition.”

The last few words come quietly, their smile fading with a furtive look around at any potential bystanders— of which there are few in the mostly-empty luncheonette. Damien’s hearing, however, is finer than it ever used to be, and he quickly swallows a burning mouthful of black coffee to avoid drawing any other attention with a spit-take. “Excuse me?”

He knows they know. As much as they pretended to not remember that hungry, desperate night, they did. They still do. Why else lower their voice? Why else make up so flimsy an excuse as thorns?

Loathe as he may be to have his constituency know, everyone’s quite well aware that their mayor is ill, in need of regular medication. His meeting with that journalist made that certain, and they’re the one who suggested it; protecting his medical history can’t be part of their agenda.

Thorns could never explain the scarring below their sweater sleeve, a crescent of wrinkled skin slowly fading back to normal.

He saw it once, their sleeves still rolled up from a trip to the restroom to wash their hands, and his stomach turned so severely he had to excuse himself. They haven’t had their sleeves up since around him— why, if it were thorns?

Some may find them unreadable, especially at the poker table, but they’re an open book to him. Their eyes always give it away.

The only question is: why bring it up now after such a lie?

“I’ve told you, there’s no cure,” he says, but the DA quickly waves him off.

“Not a cure. And I know it’s… not just some sickness. That it’s…” Finally, they look uncomfortable, easing into the seat next to him. He watches their fingers drum and pick at the edges of the folder, their heart a touch rabbit-fast with their shame.

“I know what happened,” they say, after long seconds of silence. “The night of your party.”

As suspected, and— as they’re clearly willing to share— he asks the questions on his mind. “Why tell me otherwise? Why wait until now?”

After a moment, their fingers stop drumming, and they turn those so-sharp eyes to his— an unusual gesture, from them, and all the more sincere for it. “I didn’t want you to feel bad for what you had to do.”

Damien could laugh, and he could just as easily cry. Once again, it’s as he initially thought: his friend— his kind, generous, compassionate friend— knows him well. They know him well enough to know how he’d torture himself for it.

Though it didn’t fool him, he didn’t self-flagellate. Too much.

Rather than either extreme, he settles for a soft sigh, unable to stop the corner of his mouth from tugging up. “You know I wouldn’t have, if—“

“I know,” they reply quickly. Their hand edges for his forearm, but their pinky doesn’t even brush his sleeve. “You’re the model of martyrdom, Damien. I had to make you— and there won’t be any more of that, thank you very much.”

He hums around another sip of coffee— much cooler this time. “I have plenty of, ah… medicine. Of course not.”

“Not because of your drinks. Because I’m donating— and that’s non-negotiable,” they add as he opens his mouth to protest. “I saw how it made you feel. Like you used to, before all this. It’s not unlimited, no, but… sometimes. Once a week, maybe.”

“A month,” he counters, automatically, and feels sick at still allowing it at all. If he were stronger, if he were less desperate, he could say no altogether; as it is, though, he remembers the sweet taste of their blood, the rush of energy akin to a sugar-high and the smooth warmth of their skin under his mouth. He can’t turn it down.

That, and they used their lawyer voice. As it always was in debate and in court, it commands a room.

“Once a week.” Their brow furrows just a touch. “I’ve made up my mind.”

As his resolve crumbles, he once again sighs. They don’t get to have an endearing little wrinkle to their forehead; it’s tantamount to cheating. If he held no respect for their actual skill, he’d account all their triumphs in court to that exact face.

“Once a week,” he grumbles, and doesn’t miss the cheery grin that instantly replaces their frown. They know it works, the bastard. “So, what about all of this, then? Your research?”

Their hands pat at the counter, eyes bright. “My research, yes! I will say, it was more fun than usual— lots of mythology from all over the world. I have my notes, some type. I wish it was easier to copy things over; typing directly from the books takes forever.

“But anyway,” they continue, shaking off the tangent, “my reasoning was to ultimately find out as much as I could. The only issue is, this was only thought to be fictional of late. A story made up for whatever reason. That means there’s no way to tell what’s true from what’s false.”

“You could ask me,” Damien points out, raising his cup and idly browsing the menu board. He doesn’t need to eat, but it’s nice now and then. “You always do enjoy a primary source.”

They make a little frustrated groan, and their chair squeaks beside him as they shift around. “I do, but there’s a problem. How do you know what’s true?”

That draws him away from the board, only to find them looking. Intently. “I would hope I know what my condition entails. What do you mean?”

“What I mean is: can you turn into a bat, and have you tried?”

They ask so seriously, so focused on him, that he can’t help a laugh. A loud, sharp, bark of a laugh. “I’m- I’m sorry,” he stammers, aware of the attention he’s drawn from the few other patrons of the lunch counter. “Just— really? My friend, you know something like that isn’t possible.”

He has to clench his jaw at the new rush of heat to their face. No time to hunt, no time to feed. He had blood meal before he even came here.

“Is it not?” The little wrinkle has returned, and they jab their folder with a finger. “I didn’t think this sort of condition was possible until a few weeks ago, and here we are. You aren’t dead, obviously, but we can’t know for sure what’s possible until we try.”

It sends a prickle up his spine, finding the mad gleam in their eye. It’s the same as just before those long research benders, the look when they find something that catches their interest. Their brilliant mind at work, chomping at the bit to put all the puzzle pieces together.

It’s endearing, impressive when he sees it in action. Right now, on the other side… it’s a little bit frightening.

“I’m not certain if I want to be subject to whatever you have in that folder of yours,” he says, eyeing the folder warily.

For its part, the folder sits there, full of paper. God knows how many hypotheses, as well.

“If… you don’t want to, that’s alright,” the DA replies, sounding quite not alright at the idea of shelving their insatiable curiosity. “I could always manage to find someone else.”

Damien’s stomach goes cold.

Someone else is the person who pulled him into a dark alley and fed until he lost consciousness. Someone else is the people, ashen or pale, who only met with him under cover of night and spoke of humanity as their free lunch. Someone else is dangerous, and if their blood is half as sweet to them as it is to him…

That’s a dirty trick to suggest it, if it’s even a trick at all.

“No,” he chokes, then clears his throat. His friend might be excitable, but they regard him as most dear. They would never hurt him in the name of science. “No, I’ll do it, but it can’t be all at once. We do still have lives, my friend.”

They perk up, a wary hope in their eyes. “Are you sure? I know I can get excited—“

“I couldn’t be in better hands,” he assures them with a smile. “You’ll only have to be a little more patient than usual. Do you think you can manage?”

His friend huffs, shoving at his arm and turning to the menu board. “I can be patient,” they grumble, though their tone remains soft. “I’ll buy your lunch. As payment.”

“But I don’t need to—“

“You were considering it. You usually get rye bread, don’t you?”

The sandwich doesn’t satisfy as it once did, but it’s still pretty good. After all, it’s a (relatively) free lunch.

—

So that’s how he finds himself outside their home, anxiety churning with a good dose of hunger in his gut.

Yes, hunger— their damn insistence on being his source once a week means he’ll have to do this every time he goes to see them. Every time they do these tests, he has to…

He swallows, wincing at the growing sharpness of his teeth. He’ll never be used to that.

It’s only a few hours of his time, if that. It’s less than a dozen feet away, just up their slightly-uneven steps. The stone remains solid, though, and the rest of the place— from white wooden railing to yellow numbers marking their address— is welcoming as ever. Any other day, any other reason, and he’d gladly climb up.

What if it was? Just a social call, stopping by for the pure joy of it— they’d putter around getting tea, wind up on the back porch so as not to be disturbed. The old greenhouse sits back there, a bit more worn but still in use, and he remembers drunken and/or youthful dares to scale or pull up on the old tree; its tallest branches loom over the roof, casting the whole thing in dappled shade and sun.

Thoughts of his college days… now he really is stalling. Rolling his neck to ease out the anxious kinks, he makes the journey up those crooked steps.

He barely has a moment to knock when the front door swings open. “I was wondering how long you’d stand there,” the attorney says, ruffled and bright-eyed. “What, is my house sacred ground?”

They grin, and his scoff comes as more of a laugh. “Only to some, and to others the very opposite. I was just reminiscing, actually.”

“Dangerous pastime,” they muse, and their grin softens with nostalgia. “You know, I could come up with another round of tests based on university, alone. If you’re at all interested.”

God knows what all that could entail: drinking, partying, stupid dares that somehow didn’t get them hurt or worse. Algebra. He can’t stop a shudder. “How about we stick to the first round, hm?”

“Fine, fine. I have stations set up for that, anyway.”

Stations. They’re taking this very seriously, aren’t they?

Or perhaps they aren’t— they step back from the door, but they don’t scurry off in whatever direction holds their first test. Instead, they stop a few feet back from the door and watch him expectantly.

He blinks back, mystified. “Do you… still need more time?”

“No.” Still, they watch him. Faintly smiling. Waiting.

But for what? Damien eyes the door, then the frame, but all seems clear; even if they weren’t, the DA is quite unlikely to hurt him, especially right out of the gate. That gleam in their eye, though, indicates that this— whatever the subject— is a test.

Oh. He gives a sigh and walks through easily. “You know,” he says, removing his shoes to set neatly by their own pair, “I think my cover would be blown wide if I couldn’t enter buildings uninvited.”

“Someone holding the door for you is an invitation, isn’t it?” They hurry off to some corner, and his sensitive ears catch the sound of pen-scratching. “People were happy to with your cane.”

Fair enough, but the cane he can’t imagine being that much of a factor. His status as candidate and then mayor, however… “I think that misunderstanding just came from good manners. I wouldn’t just barge in somewhere I wasn’t sure I was welcome, even before all this.”

They raise an eyebrow and gesture to their home at large with one hand.

“I’m quite welcome here, and you know that. You’re the one who said so.” He smiles at them as he approaches. “Perhaps you jeopardized your own test before you even knew you’d hold it.”

“What?” They look down to their findings, written in their messy scrawl, stark black. After a beat, they slowly turn back to him, eyes wide with dawning horror. “Oh, god. It can’t be— if that’s the case, then—“

“Alright, hold on.” Damien cuts them off as gently as he can, one hand resting lightly on their shoulder. “I was simply teasing you, though I apologize; I didn’t expect it to upset you so. Take a deep breath for me?”

It can take some time for this method of his to work, especially when they’re deep in the throes of anxiety, sometimes several minutes.

This time is no exception, as they look to their other notes frantically, breath coming shallow. “What if the whole experiment is— If I have to redo everything—“

He doesn’t miss the slight note of anger amidst the upset. If it’s directed inward, rather than at the circumstances of poor forethought, then he must redirect this as quickly as possible.

With a slightly firmer squeeze— only a fraction, because he’s stronger with his affliction and their shoulder now feels remarkably fragile— he tries again. “My friend,” he starts, coming down slightly to look at them, though their eyes refuse to meet his, “it’s alright. Your plans can move forward. Take a deep breath and relax.”

He doesn’t expect much from it, if they’re really that far gone. Luck must be on their side, however; they take a deep breath just as he finishes his sentence, tension in their shoulders leaking out.

It’s… quite quick.

Was it truly luck, catching them at the right time, or..? He draws his hand back with a troubled frown. “How… how are you feeling?”

“Good.” Even they sound a little disbelieving, blinking as if they’ve just woken up from a nap. “That was… a little strange.”

His stomach twists, and it’s certainly not from hunger. “Yes, it seemed to leave rather quickly.”

Surprisingly, they shake their head. “No— well, yes, but not just that. When someone tries to talk to me when I’m panicking, they feel far away. Like I’m underwater, or they’re in another room.

“But you,” they continue, “when you spoke, it… it was like you were right here. In my head, and—“ They quickly cut off, lips pressing together as a spike of warmth and spice floods their scent.

Spice is new. Spice is interesting— or would be, in other circumstances. He hadn’t meant it. He wouldn’t dare with them, not on purpose, not casually. Is that how it feels when he suggests, purposeful or otherwise? “I… I apologize. I’ve never heard it from the other point of view; I assure you, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You didn’t mean to?” They peer up at him, brow furrowed— solving a puzzle, he knows, even if one he hadn’t meant to give them.  It’s clear when the pieces fall into place, because their eyes grow wide— and far too excited. “You can do that? Actually?”

He grimaces, flooded with shame as the memories of his first few months come to the surface. “I try not to. It isn’t right, however fascinating you happen to find it.”

“I agree it’s not something you should do, but you must admit it is fascinating.” Their prior panic seems like hours ago, vanished in the wind as they hurriedly scribble in their notes. “Spiritualists and magicians wish they could do what you do— and if I give you my consent beforehand, it isn’t really that bad, is it?”

To anyone else, perhaps it might be alright, but he knows how far their curiosity might push them to go. That, combined with a suggestion… “I would still rather we not. I’m sure you have plenty of experiments in that notebook of yours that don’t require you to be under.”

The attorney huffs— he almost certainly catches a ‘boring’— but they dutifully turn to another page. “Fine, no hypnosis. In that case, I hope you’re hungry.”

Once more, his stomach turns with hunger and nausea. “I… listen, I’m not sure if I can drink your blood. I know I have, but—“

“I’m not talking about blood.” His friend smiles, wide and mischievous, and his heart sinks. “I’m talking about garlic.”

—

Only half an hour later, he’s on the couch and clutching his roiling stomach. It isn’t the worst stomachache of his life— he came down with a rotten stomach flu in his childhood, and he was in bed for weeks— but it’s none too pleasant, either.

He burps, grimacing at the well of bile in his throat.

“So…” His friend gingerly steps forward, a glass of bubbling Bromo in their hand; they quickly hand it over when he holds out his hand. “Shall we mark that one as a yes? A maybe?”

Mood soured, just like his stomach, he sends them a baleful look over the glass of antacid. “I want you to eat a portion of that meal and then tell me how you feel. I think it might be insightful.”

“… No.” He catches the scribble of a pen over the sound of the bubbles; from the length of that pause, he can guess it wasn’t just a refusal to partake.

His mood can’t stay so bad for very long, though; in short order, they’ve removed the offending dish and come to sit with him.  Their eyes are so apologetic and concerned— almost hyperbolic, really— that he can’t help a laugh. “You’re forgiven, you know.”

“Are you sure?” They twist their fingers together, with a soft pick at their fingernails. “You know I would never—“

“Of course I do.” He nudges them with one knee, a friendly little bump. “I also know you’re a far better cook than that. How many cloves did you use, by chance?”

“Normally? Three. This time…” They start to smile, just a little. “I just doubled it. It wasn’t exorbitant— still a lot, but not unreasonable.”

He nods, somewhat relieved— the food likely won’t go to waste, then. “… Do you think you could make that for me, sometime? Without the double garlic? I liked the dish, otherwise.”

It gets them to launch into a wonderful description of their method and ingredients, all traces of guilt long gone. He just sits back with a little smile, soaking it in.

—

“Can you turn into a bat?”

“No.”

“A wolf?”

“No.”

“A bunch of snakes or insects?”

“Where are you getting all this? And no.”

“Books. A cloud of mist?”

“N- well, you know, I haven’t really tried that one. It might be possible.”

“Really?”

“No.”

—

He outright refuses to lift them when testing his strength— citing danger but really he can’t hold them and not begin pining too much to be functional— but he’s happy to lift their dining table or their icebox at their direction.

They do not look at him as they take those notes.

His speed comes second, before they move onto senses.

He was never the fastest of his circle, though certainly a contender for strongest; now, though, he can make it to their back fence and back in a matter of a few seconds— and without being winded.

“You think you’re distance, or sprint?” They ask when he comes back, jotting down his time.

“I don’t have much reason to run,” he says pointedly, “so I can’t say for certain.”

They hum, jotting down a note. “We’ll hit the trails next week. Less suspicious to your constituency.”

—

Testing his senses is a bit more of what he expected of today, but it’s no less of a challenge; it is, in every meaning of the word, a test.

They leave touch and taste alone because he hasn’t found much change in either, but the others are fair game.

—

They put his eyesight up against a set of increasingly smaller targets, even going into their backyard when he can describe a small stamp in detail at ten feet.

He mentions a cluster of some type of egg under the leaves of one of their flowers. When he goes into detail, they stomp over to their shed, launching into a stream of language so out of their usual vocabulary that he can’t help but to double over in laughter.

—

His hearing comes next, again an increasingly quieter sound at greater distance.

“I don’t know how better to test you,” they complain at the end, though mildly. “I’ve done all I can think of. Do you have anything to add?”

Damien considers for a moment. “Your neighbor is having… an awful lot of fun next door. Suppose her husband has the day off?”

“No, but her friend is over, I saw her walk up the—“ They pause, looking to him with wide eyes.

He can only look back with a similar expression. Finally, after turning his hearing back towards his immediate vicinity, he says, “Good for her.”

“Good for her.”

—

Smell comes next, and he stops them before they go too far in explaining their criteria.

“I haven’t found a lot of change in objects, exactly. Say, food— your food— is about where it used to be. Flowers and other smells, too. The only difference is… well, living things.”

“Interesting.” Their eyes shine. “So you can smell creatures better, but nothing else?”

He nods, a mite uncomfortable. “For… hunting, I would presume. Further and with more… depth, I suppose.”

They just scoot closer with their notes, eyes fixed on him and a smile growing.

He sighs, but it doesn’t stop his own smile. “Alright, I’ll see what’s close.”

After a cursory sniff— and a moment to parse it all, as he still isn’t the best at it— he begins. “You have a bevy of birds up in your tree, though it wouldn’t take a good nose to tell that. Like feathers and eggshells, fresh air.

“The cat behind your shed isn’t alone— there’s another that smells like meat and fur, and there’s… a milky scent. I suppose there are, or will be, kittens soon.

“And you—“ He stops himself, swallowing hard. “That’s all.”

“No, it’s not.” They’re certainly sharp, though he never doubted that; they’re still in the middle of writing down supplies they’ll need for a litter of kittens. “You started to talk about me. What do I smell like?”

Why talk about that when he could go crawl into a hole? “Like… a human. How a human smells.”

They don’t say anything, but the look they give him over their notebook says more than they could possibly with words.

“Alright, alright. Like… spring.” He struggles against rising heat in his face, resolutely not looking at them. “Sun and grass and flowers. Honey, a bit, perhaps.”

“Fascinating…” It catches his attention, and their face is soft, full of wonder when he looks. “Where do you suppose that comes from?”

Damien shrugs. “You garden an awful lot, which I imagine has some influence. It may also simply be you. If someone’s rotten, they kind of smell like it. And I find if I don’t care for someone, they don’t smell so…”

They start to smile— too impishly for his liking. “So you think I’m nice and you care about me.”

“Yes, I do.” It’s one way to handle their teasing— accept it right as it is.

The smile grows bashful— just as their scent grows a little warmer.

—

Finally, a return to the rose. He’s been put through the ringer enough, today, and it’s the final test— or so they’ve said. Nothing to do but dive in.

It’s pleasant enough, as roses go. Fresh from his friend’s back garden, a bit of morning dew and soil to offset the floral sweetness.

Too cloying to be them, but it reminds him of their springlike scent regardless.

One of the soft petals brushes his nose as he takes a deep breath, but he pays it little heed; that is, until he pulls back, and the tickle only intensifies.

“Well?” They lean forward, pen poised over their notes, tense with anticipation. “How is it? How do you feel?”

Damien scrunches his nose, sniffs in order to quell the rising pressure, but there’s little use; in a matter of seconds, he turns aside to sneeze, and violently. “Ah,” he breathes, sniffing once again around watery eyes. “My apologies.”

“You’re blessed. Are you allergic, now?” They look a little too excited at the prospect, scooting forward a bit closer; he can’t even be sure they realize they’ve done it.

He shakes his head, laying the rose back down on the table between them. “No, I don’t think so. A petal brushed my nose, is all.”

His friend gives a quiet, affirming hum, then scribbles one last thing into their notebook before closing it firmly. “Alright, then we’re done for today. Let me get some supplies together for your meal.”

Right, his meal. “About that—“

“You’re eating.” Their eyes snap to his, that stubborn determination once more arresting him where he sits. “I’ve put you through enough, and on an empty stomach. You deserve something that will actually nourish you.

“Besides,” they continue, setting aside their materials and standing, “I’ll need you at your strongest for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” He raises an eyebrow. “What, pray tell, is tomorrow?”

At that, they smile. “I have to make a comparison against today. Hungry versus well-fed. I know you’ve noticed some differences— you act a bit different, depending on how hungry you are.”

He hadn’t considered that, but it makes sense. His friend is nothing if not thorough— and quite observant. “If you really insist,” he replies weakly.

They come back with some bandages, pads, and alcohol, setting them neatly aside. “I healed up pretty quickly last time,” they comment as casually as you please, rolling up their sleeve. “Still, it never hurts to be a little more careful about it. Whenever you’re ready, Day. I trust you.”

It’s so soft and earnest, coupled with their warm little smile when he glances up from the bared skin of their arm. Monster or not, he isn’t sure he deserves them.

They take the bite as well as they did last time, with the smallest grunt of pain and a spike in their heart rate, but they don’t try to move away or flinch. Rather, they sit patiently as he drinks, eyes tracking somewhere beyond his shoulder.

He shouldn’t get used to this— not too used to this, anyway— but it’s difficult not to sigh in pleasure. Disgusting as it may be, the coppery flavor of blood almost seems as an undertone to the smell of their skin; warm, it’s like drinking from a cup of spring, the bright flowers and soft grass rejuvenating him from the inside out.

He could swear he tastes honey on his tongue.

It’s hard to pull away when he deems it necessary, but his stomach is comfortably full; besides, his friend’s tracking seems a bit slower, now. He pulls back and quickly reaches for the medical supplies.

“Huh? Oh, you’re finished?” His friend blinks down at him, hissing at the sting of alcohol on the punctures. “Sorry, I must have… lost track of time.”

“Which means I stopped a little late,” he mutters, carefully winding around gauze. “How are you feeling? You ought to have something to eat; I’ll make it for you.”

“You didn’t stop late.” They fix him with a stern, though not unkind, look. “You wouldn’t hurt me. You’re full enough?”

He pins the bandage in place, itching with the urge to roll down their sleeve for them, if only to no longer see the dressing. “Yes, plenty. … Thank you.”

“Any time.” They reach for and squeeze his hand with a smile. “Before you make me my favorite lunch, because I know you will, make sure to wipe your mouth? You have a little…”

“Oh, yes, I will.” He should have expected as much; feeding isn’t the neatest of affairs. “I’ll also be rinsing, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all. In fact…” They tilt their head, gesturing back down the hall. “I have an extra toothbrush. It’s all yours.”

His heart skips before he can rein himself in. It isn’t in that way, and yet… their expression is almost too inscrutable, as if they’re at the poker table and waiting for him to call.

He could do it, couldn’t he? Call and see their hands played? But… well, he was never a risky better.

There’s a reason they always win.

“That’s very generous of you,” he says, instead. “Sit tight right here, I’ll be back with lunch.”

If he didn’t bet how they’d have liked— hoped— they don’t show it. Instead, they just smile up at him over a sandwich made to their tastes fifteen minutes later.

Maybe tomorrow there’ll be another chance.

[outofangband]

I reread this fic I wrote last December and noticed a bunch of little mistakes so I rewrote it with edits and additions because I’d been wanting to revisit it for awhile anyways

Angband World Building and Aftermath of Captivity Masterlist

Anyways, Húrin in Angband plus a new short epilogue in Brethil

Not super gory but warning for blood, torture, Morgoth being Morgoth, enforced nudity, and unreality. vague The Wanderings of Húrin related warnings for the epilogue

He had been strapped to this table through leather and metallic cords crossing over his wrists and ankles, pulling them taut for a long time. Certainly long enough to memorize the geography of the uneven wood beneath him. Húrin wondered how much was meant to deliberately cause discomfort to whatever unfortunate soul was restrained there or if the craftsmanship of the fortress was simply that poor. It was clearly an old table. He had earned a smack to the face for offering to fix one of the legs. Not that he was any master with woodwork of course but basic repair he could manage. Húrin wasn’t sure whether the orc who had struck him had completely understood his snipe, not all of them spoke the same tongues as him and several would punish him for opening his mouth at all.

“I thought you wished for me to speak!” he had exclaimed to one of the balrogs after they had discovered him coughing up blood following a particularly vicious beating.

Indeed there had been one instance when two demons had been subjecting him to various tormentsfor what must have been hours. Agitated and in agony, Húrin had kept up a steady stream of his own commentary, finally prompting one of them to attempt to force a metal device into his mouth before the other grabbed its companion’ arm

“You cannot gag it, we need it to talk!” They had snarled. There was a pause between the two.

Húrin had actually laughed though he had regretted it immediately as pain pierced his likely broken ribs. He imagined that they had not wanted to admit that there was no point in keeping his mouth free despite their torments.

The table beneath him did not allow for restful sleep. This Húrin was fairly sure was deliberate. The uneven bits dug into his already torn up back and muscles would start to seize up as soon as he had even begun to get comfortable enough to nod off. Consequently, he had been drifting in and out of a restless half sleep.

When he did sleep, His dreams were unusually mundane, inconsequential at home but wonderful heartaching blessings here.

He stood in the small chamber just beyond the main hall, listening to Sador discuss his work.

“I began the chair,” said Dream Sador, “But, Lord Húrin, I could not finish your instructions.” With an apologetic look he held up the scribbled notes Húrin had left for him. Dream Húrin had to squint to read them and even this was a challenge. He grinned sheepishly.

“Right, I can see why you might not have managed,” Húrin took the parchment with the messy writing back, “Hopefully it was nothing important.” He shouldn’t have written it in such a hurry. It probably was important

Dream Húrin glances down again at the notes. The words have shifted to formless scribbles like those made my a frustrated child. Dream Sador looks unbearably grim.

The door to the chamber opens.

Húrin jolted. He had already awoke several times to what he thought was the door opening only to find himself still alone. This time however, the sound had not been created by his mind.

Morgoth approached him at his typical leisurely pace. A facade of casualty that Húrin knew was at least in part to hide the injuries Lord Fingolfin had given him. The thought wasn’t a comfort exactly but it gave him strength to do the one thing he knew he had to; endure.

Not that there was an alternative

He wasn’t completely taken by his pride, he would not deny that the ‘sessions’ with Morgoth himself were worse than what he had to suffer from any of his servants.

The Vala did not speak as he looked to the other table in the room, the one Húrin was not currently chained to. That table held a number of unsavory instruments, ones Húrin had since learned required more precise handling than most of the orcs usually favored. When Morgoth turned to him however the man saw he was holding a simple blade.

“Have you come to bring me death?” Húrin asked lightly even as every fiber of his being wished to shut down while faced with the vile creature, “If it transpires that my kind face Lord Námo, should I deliver a message from you?”

Morgoth did not speak immediately. Húrin felt a shifting in the air, leaving him short of breath. He imagined the other was playing a similar game to him; schooling any reactions to a taunting mask but while Húrin was steeling himself against the instinctual horror, Morgoth was likely trying to resist the urge to kill him on the spot. Or maybe he was giving himself too much credit.

He opens his mouth to break the deeply tense, unpleasant silence that has fallen between them. But something slimy, oily fills suddenly his mouth and he gags on nothing. Morgoth watches him with satisfaction for a moment before the illusion breaks.

“Hush,” the monster finally spoke in an unnaturally soft tone that frightened Húrin far more than a roar of anger would have. Húrin was loath to obey but could not think of much to say in the eerie silence. Morgoth stood over him now. He was acutely aware of how small and fragile and naked he was under the light of the crown his captor perpetually wore. It was sense of vulnerability that went far beyond the inherent embarrassment of being nude in front of others, let alone one he so hated. Indeed he had never felt much embarrassment in his own nakedness before here.

Morgoth moved the knife between long fingers. Húrin watched it, almost mesmerized yet still missed the moment the blade was first brought to his skin. The cold he felt before the pain. It spread throughout the area, hardening in his empty stomach, becoming more acute with each dragging motion of the knife. The marks were not deep but they brought blood all the same and Húrin knew that the apparent lack of force put into them was deceptive. Whatever was made here would not fade for some time, if ever.

Perhaps worse than the pain from the knife was the fingers of Morgoth’s other hand splayed lightly just above where he worked with the blade. Any touch from the fiend was nigh unbearable.

Húrin tried at first to guess what it was the other was drawing. He was sure it was a deliberate design, some symbol like the foul brands he had already been given. But trying to put sense into the lines and curves as blood trickled down his chest soon made him dizzy and he gave up. He did not need to make himself any more vulnerable in Morgoth’s presence.

“Look,” Morgoth instructed in the same deceptively calm voice. Húrin was glad for the order because it was one he could plainly disobey. He did not look, gaze fixed upon the ceiling above him. Try as he might he could not stop himself shivering as Morgoth almost gently ran his fingers through the bloodied mess, resting just above his naval.

“Look. Surely the script is one you can read.”

So it was a word that had been carved. Húrin did not look.

The fingers that gripped his chin were familiar now. They tilted his face down to face the now finished mark. Húrin defied in the only way he could, closing his eyes. The soft laughter that caressed him then felt like poison in his blood.

Many years later

Brethil Forest

The wild man slept poorly, curled on the hard ground despite the cot in the corner. He spoke in his sleep too, harsh whispers the guards claimed were in orc tongue though Manthor knew they had not gotten close enough to make anything out. Dirty nails dug just below the ripped collar of his shapeless tunic, indenting into an old scar that stretched across his chest.

He is reluctant to wake him. If Húrin Thalion is deep enough in sleep that he does not jolt at Manthor’s presence in the doorway, Manthor feels he should leave him be though he doesn’t want the guards to be his only company upon waking. He settles onto the cot that Húrin has rejected. It is far from the finest of beds but surely a good deal more comfortable than the ground of the cell, or the hard earth they had first found him on. Casting a sharp look at the guards, Manthor waits for the man to awaken and watches blood pool beneath his fingers over the old carving.

(Author’s note: between this and Morwen’s ordeal in CYHAW and my other stuff, I apologize to the family as a whole)

Other author’s note: I hope this is ok! Let me know if you have feedback! I want to write disturbing things because I want to be a horror writer

[pocketknifeprayers]

for your deer in the headlights au specifically: ■☮▼ for volume and ♥ for all of them (including the girl)

i love you forever for asking about deer in headlights thank u so so much 💞💞💞

VOLUME

■bedroom/living quarters headcanon: he shares with his crew :) usually the room is pretty packed. it depends on the night, how many people are crashing at the nest. the crew have a few separate matresses and piles of comfy shit between themselves but always end up sharing. he doesn't mind, he's used to it and can't sleep without someone else's body heat now.

☮️friendship headcanon: !!!! he's not like. The Friendliest Person Ever like i don't wanna pigeonhole him like that but he makes friends easily, he's very charming and easygoing and often just makes friends wherever he goes. he always leaves stickshift crusades concerts with someone new's frequency and acquainted with a bunch of new faces.

▼childhood headcanon: this is gonna be revealed in the fic :) (aka i have a vague idea but am still deciding how i want it to go in the au)

♥family headcanon: wahhh..... loves his family...... the vs are everything to him. he would do anything for them. the group is tough because they all have things going on for each of them internally and that causes a lot of like. angst but volume just really wants them to all be okay and be together and prioritizes the safety and health over his crew over all else. he would never on any other circumstances take in a kid and change the dynamic but he had no choice in this scenario

VAL

♥: the vs. the thing is, val's not afraid to admit that. yeah his crew is his family, he'll say flippantly. doesn't mean they don't drive him fucking crazy sometimes. he doesn't specify how, doesn't go into more detail about how they're family, what he loves about them, how he feels. that's where it gets scary for him. the details and vulnerability are too much to speak aloud

VINYL

♥: he misses his brother. he had a family back in the city, a small one, just him two parents and an older brother. he misses that, misses his brother a lot mostly. his parents weren't great so he doesn't miss them but his brother he misses. it's alright though. it isn't all the time. and he adores the vs. they are his family now and most of the time they feel like all the family he's ever needed. and when he misses his brother he knows they'll be there to comfort him. :). he's not... thrilled about this new addition to the dynamic it's going to throw off a lot of routine and add tension which he knows he's going to have to deal with but he's willing to give it a shot. try his best yknow.

THE GIRL

♥: family was the four. that was family to her. cherri too. he's not included anymore. the way she misses them has changed from when she was little. she doesn't cry about it anymore. she just... longs for that. not being able to fix the ache in her chest makes her mad and she'll be damned if she lets anyone else try to be her family again.

VAYA

♥: !! in my canon vaya is kinda like. the least attached to the vs if that makes sense. yes she and vamos are very close yes she loves the vs but she has a life outside of it that's her own. she also misses her mom, even though she was terrible. her family is vamos and her mom and that dynamic they had was bad but she still misses it sometimes. she's going along with this new addition to the household just cuz she knows there's nothing to do about it and she'll try to stay out of it if things go bad. help out where she can but things are out of her hands. she's mostly worried about vamos handling it, honestly. in her mind they can be a touch naive. also sensitive. she doesn't want the extra stress to hurt her.

VAMOS

♥: the vs are her family!! she doesn't want anything to do with the memories of her and vaya and their mother it just makes her sad. they want to leave that behind if they can, family doesn't act like her mother did. they love the vs so much and couldn't ask for better family like she just connects with them all on a certain level and really clicks with them and they feel so free to be themself :) while yeah they worry about the kid being added to the household she kinda just tries to trust things will work out. what's meant to be will be! and this might be exciting!

[mcdevinpants]

I'm Trying to Make Sense of Crab Day

There's a lot being said about Crab Day, and a lot of people getting very angry about it and saying a lot of different things, so I'm going to try to organize my thoughts a little bit. I have some unanswered questions and if you have some answers, please do share. But I'm not trying to push any side on this, so if you're mad about any of my thoughts, please just scroll on by.

First and I think most importantly, whether or not it'll do anything. Not a clue. It's 100% true (as I've seen pointed out, I do not claim to be the originator of this thought) that tumblr is operating on a deficit, they're not in debt. Giving them $30M via crabs won't fix the problem. Even if we reliably did it every year (which wouldn't be a viable plan anyway) I'm not sure it'd fix the problem. But I feel like it might be a step in the right direction. It certainly couldn't hurt on that front. And I've been kind of wondering how long this place was going to be financially viable ever since Yahoo took that huge loss. It's not looking good.

I've seen a bunch of folks say that the OP of the original is a terf (who I will be henceforth in this post referring to as feminist-appropriating radical transphobes, or farts, as I've seen wonderfully suggested before, because I don't think they deserve to be called feminists and also do deserve to be made fun of). But I don't know who that is. Every post I've seen about Crab Day has (i think) talked about how this is their version of it, or seems to be promoting an already-existing idea, and the folks who are just referring to them as "the OP" aren't giving a username. So I can't go see for myself (as some of them have rather confusingly suggested). And I like verifying stuff like that. If you've got a lead on that, please let me know. Searches have been inconclusive. (I have confirmed that at least one person promoting it is a fart, but that's about as far as I've gotten. Said person is ohifonlyx33. More investigation has confirmed greater-than-the-sword is also a fart, but they also say they weren't the originator, just an early promoter. Any further information will be placed here in edits.)

But also on that note, at this point I kind of fail to see how this idea promotes or furthers a fart agenda. Which is the important part, right? Maybe I'm just not seeing it, and if that's the case, please do weigh in. I hope it's not just idea guilt-by-association. I can't avoid doing literally everything a fart does just because they do it, because they also do things like eating things they like and (theoretically) having friends. (No this is not a serious line of argument, I know those aren't equivalent, I'm just skeptical of idea guilt-by-association, I'd need more than that.) I generally try to avoid promoting fart blogs just to not give them any additional reach, but given that I don't even know who came up with this in the first place that doesn't seem like much of an issue to me.

I've also seen a post circulating talking about how we shouldn't be giving them money like this unless they make accessibility improvements between now and then. All of the accessibility needs they list are absolutely necessary. I'm not entirely clear on how that relates to the proposed crab day though. To be clear, what I'm saying is that Not Participating In A Semi-Organized Effort To Give Money To Tumblr is not the same as a boycott, and an absence of participation seems to lack the clarity of intent that a boycott absolutely requires to even approach being effective, even if folks write in about why they're doing it. Boycotts are a tricky beast and most of them don't really do anything. I'm also kind of under the impression that if they're already not taking accessibility seriously, withholding money isn't going to incentivize them to start so much as it's going to put you in the category of User Who Is Not Assissting Tumblr's Continued Existence. And to be clear, I am already in that category. I haven't spent any money on tumblr, and continuing to do that will unfortunately not further the cause of accessibility. It also won't hinder it per se, and I'm not entirely convinced that I'd be hindering it if I did give them money.

To sum up: I'm not arguing in favor of Crab Day. I'm not arguing against Crab Day. I'm not entirely sure where I stand wrt Crab Day, and I'm not sure this helped at all, but maybe it will lead to something that helps. If you've got something to weigh in on that might help, please do. If you've got something to weigh in on that involves being unpleasant, please don't.

[dammons-forgefire]

https://www.tumblr.com/arctophyllax/735707485263085568/actually-theres-a-way-to-ask-larian-to-give-us

Omg i found this!! Request send already! Spread it my love our men needs a hug at least!

Hello anon, thank you for sharing!

I'll definitely ask them to give us more interactions with our favorite tieflings, but I will be completely honest; I think there are limits to what we can realistically ask for here. Do some expectation management, if you will.

So far we don't even have hugs for our direct companions and lovers in the game, so if hugs for NPCs are to come, it might take a while. Perhaps even a long while. I still think they would definitely implement them should they see the demand. Larian is overall great when listening to fans and players.

But there are also a lot of things I doubt we can expect them to implement.

The way a lot of the NPCs are written feels like their story should take place off-screen as well, and making more of it happen on-screen would probably take a very long time of writing and recording more dialogue, among other things.

I doubt they will add any new permanent companions, as that would mean an insane level of additional effort for them. And while Zevlor, for example, is extremely strong and I would have loved for him to help us more under Moonrise, I think overall, the area was supposed to be difficult but manageable, which it already is, even in Tactician difficulty, especially if you have Aylin to aid you in the fight. Adding him to fight with us there would probably not be too difficult, but it feels as though they would have to buff Ketheric in order for things to still be balanced.

Now this might just be me, but as much as I adore Zevlor (among a lot of other NPCs), and even though I would have loved to hug him or even flirt with him during the party in Act I, accepting something like that or even having him sleep with Tav there doesn't seem to be in character to me. He seems more like the type to be caught off guard and flattered, but not like someone who would ever act on it, even if he did have a little crush on Tav. I could be wrong, though.

There is also a big difference between changes like that during early access and now that the game is released. It is no longer in active development, even though they are still working on a lot of things. But the game is released. It's out. I don't see them putting in thousands of work-hours into completely new character quests that they didn't at least already explore during earlier stages of development.

I know they had something else planned for Zevlor in Act II, but from what I heard, that was about him intentionally betraying the refugees, which I'm very glad they didn't implement.

Now, as much as I understand some people wanting to ask for romances of their favorite NPCs (I've seen Zevlor, Dammon, Rolan, Raphael, Omeluum, Abdirak, Kar'niss, Gortash, Orin, Nere, Barcus, Rugan, and a whole bunch more that people want to romance), writing a whole new romance that doesn't just feel like an afterthought, but fleshed out takes a lot of time. And you can already tell that, because even most of the main companions don't feel like they ever finished those. Which also means that the companions need to be the top priority here.

Wyll was rewritten a few months before the game was released, and even now, months AFTER release he is still hours behind in content compared to other companions. It just takes a very long time to write, produce, record, polish, animate, then fully implement things. Even with mocap, there are still animators who have to properly animate everything. Mocap doesn't do the full job here, so even smaller animations take time.

Something as fleshed out with as many scenes and dialogue options as Astarion's romance took them 4 full years of constant development, recording and many iterations to get things right. And even there they still have to keep working, fix things, rewrite smaller things, add more dialogue, etc.

Larian worked on the game for years to get it to this point, so another romance, a fully developed quest line, could easily take a year during active development. Outside of development, it could take much longer, so to me it doesn't sound feasible to create something like that for a character that isn't part of the main group.

They already have their hands full with hundreds of things they still fix and develop, the entire upper city was cut fairly shortly before release, so it will probably be put back in. And I wouldn't be surprised if that meant some changes as to what we can see and who we can meet in Act III, but even then, I doubt they will make smaller NPCs romanceable.

Hugs? I would like that. A few more one-night stands with some extra dialogue? Sure. But I don't think we will get any more companions, or full romances. (Which is, by the way, the reason I think Frazer has been told not to hype up a potential romance with Dammon, not to inspire hope where there is none. He is a big part of the story for Karlach, that was already written in Early Access and developed quite a bit before being ultimately dropped for now. But creating a full romance with him is not in scope of what they can realistically put out with the level of quality they aspire to have.)

[biofuckingshock]

Twincest?? Dude what the fuck?? Jfc

So, before I start: Yes, this is the ask I received in the first place, obviously about the fact I posted Lutecest.

And, I'll be honest, yes this ask made me question many things. The fact I had no qualm posting the Lutecest post in the first place, that I knew I had done it before and I did not have any issue with it personally or via any other person who followed BFS at the time, the fact I don't care/mind about twin/incest ship pairings too much in general, but seemed to very much mind/care about that fact for a very specific pairing of a completely different fandom (and yet not for another pairing with one of those characters that is also considered incest), and more importantly, what all of this together said about my own morals and ethics and beliefs and practices (especially the disconnect and lack of thought and consideration between them).

And, while I won't go into that on this particular ask (I have two other asks to respond to after this where I will do exactly that), I will say this instead: The Lutecest post I reblogged the other day is going to stay.

In fact, from here on out, any Lutecest post that I like and want to reblog, I will do so.

However, some things of import to note:

All ship posts will be (as they have been) tagged as "ships".

A new addition in tagging posts moving forward is that every post with a ship pairing will be tagged with that ship pairing's (most popular/well-known) name.

I realize that somethings are not some people's "cup of tea" and that's perfectly fine, but I will be continuing to post such content moving forward. I do also realize that might leave some people in a terrible position, aka: loving BFS' normal content but not wanting to see certain ship pairings. And that's okay to be on the fence like that.

In fact, a very wonderful function Tumblr has somewhat recently added to their site is the ability to filter posts via their tags and/or their post contents (via text at least). This is the very reason I have brought up about how I will tag ship posts from here on so that for those who still wish to view BFS content in general but don't want to see posts about specific pairings, well there you go! A little handy solution for you!

Another thing to add on top of that, is that I do realize past posts on this blog are not up to snuff when it comes to their tagging. I know, I know. I said I would do that and then didn't. Honestly, because I knew it would be a bunch of work and effort to meticulously go back and reexamine and fix tags of every single old post on this blog. But I am going to do that very soon. (Even if the tag page won't look "pretty" now. Thanks Tumblr for completely removing the usage of Javascript from page themes. -.-)

Anyway, I bring this up because I know that that also means old ship posts on this blog do not have both the tagging requirements I just listed above. Obviously, right now they do not, but I just wanted to let you all know in the soon to be future, they will.

Now, as for BFS' "official stance" on this situation and what I will do moving forward, that's all of it. My thoughts on all this, however, will more detailed via the next two asks I post.

From your beloved time-traveling blog mod,

r

[ideas-on-paper]

Would it be possible to reset the Geth that have been reprogrammed by the Reapers? I'm honestly not sure - it might be, but I have a feeling the damage left behind by the Reaper code would be too severe to be fixed by normal repairs. I guess it would be kind of dependent on whether the Geth can regain access to their backups after being freed from the Reapers - if they can, everything is fine. If the backup files are corrupted, though... Well, that's where things get complicated.

Can Geth write new routines by themselves? I suppose so - but even if they can, the Geth would never be the same as they were before the overwrite.

This. This is exactly what I mean. Diplomacy-wise, the Geth are really in the most disadvantageous position you can be - the rest of the galaxy hates them, and they know this. To be frank, I wouldn't share all of my secrets with people who potentially might harm me either (if life taught me one thing, it's this).

So, I wouldn't write off the server scenes as a downright lie - it's way more likely they are just pieces of the truth. Like you said, Legion probably has enough of a hard time keeping both sides appeased. But what really, really bothers me this is the behavior of some people in the community I've been observing. When Garrus, Tali or Liara do something morally grey, everyone is completely fine with it - however, if Legion does anything that's not 100% altruistic, there are a bunch of people who will immediately pick up on it and say that this, right there, is proof that Legion has definitely betrayed Shepard. I know I probably shouldn't let the comments of a small number of people get to me like this, but still... this makes me sad.

I'd imagine that the Geth themselves don't really like to remember the extreme phases of the war, especially if they were limited in their processing capability (at the very least, I think they would catalog this as a very negative experience). Also, it's possible that when looking back at their past actions, they actually come to reevaluate them, wishing they could've made a better decision. I could imagine that this in particular would make for some great bonus dialogue:

Legion: At the time, we judged it was the only solution. However... We wish it did not result in this. We wish we could have made a more profound decision. Shepard: Regret... Legion: Shepard-Commander? Shepard: Looking back at your past mistakes, wishing you could've done better? It's called regret, Legion. Legion: ... [no response]

The thing is, neither side is blameless for the things that happened. Mistakes were made, but to start the process of healing and rebuilding trust, you actually have to acknowledge them. Taking the first step may be hard for both parties, but you have to start somewhere. (I really wish they would've put more focus on the quandary of the Geth and the Quarians have to work out their mistrust. Also, I think it would really mean a lot to the Geth if there was just one positive example of an organic not immediately despising them after revealing their less flawless facets.)

In any case, we have to admit that our own knowledge of the Morning War is very limited - we know the cause of it, we know how it started, and we know the end result, but we know next to nothing about what happened in between. (Which is why it's so baffling to me that some people just jump to conclusions to defend/accuse either side, considering how little information we have available.)

I've actually been working on a concept for a story set before and during the Morning War - you could call it a passion project of mine, since my fascination with the Geth and Quarians is pretty well known. I want to portray the events in a nuanced way, as well as fill in some of the gaps in the narrative. (The story is far from fully fleshed out, however; actually, I've been thinking about sharing the concept with other Mass Effect fans, to get a bit of feedback and additional input.)

Honestly, I would've loved it if the Crucible was a trap - I still remember the conversation with Sovereign on Virmire, and the eeriness I felt throughout it. The way Sovereign described how they tricked organics with the mass effect technology, playing mind games with them as if they were mere toys, just filled me with absolute dread, and I suppose I wanted to emulate that feeling.

I've actually devised the "extended" Refuse ending with the indoctrination/simulation theories in mind, in a way that wouldn't require me to rewrite too much of the canon endings. I actually would keep Control, Synthesis, and Destroy as choices, but I maybe alter the post-ending cutscenes so they leave room for the implication that these aren't "real" solutions. (To quickly summarize my concepts: Control has Shepard trying their best to hold the Reapers in check but running out the clock, Synthesis has Joker and EDI questioning whether this utopia they live in is even real, and Destroy has the organic races realizing that something is wrong with the mass relays a few centuries later.)

I remember that BioWare commented they didn't want a "classic final bossfight" to distinguish ME3 from other games, so they cut out the fight against the Illusive Man that was planned in the early stages - either way, I think it's a bit anticlimactic that TIM is essentially the last enemy you have to get past. So yeah, the "final boss" if you pick Refuse would be Harbinger (it just feels so lackluster that Harbinger is built up as a main antagonist, but then you never actually confront him), after Shepard infiltrates his consciousness/hacks him. This is where EDI and the Geth come into play, who are there to provide support with the firewall (I really wanted to do something with the synthetic characters, and I didn't want it to feel it too much like a one-man/one-woman show; Shepard may be strong-minded individual, but I think they'd at least need temporary protection so Harbinger's mind doesn't tear them apart instantly).

What ensues is the "mental battle" I mentioned earlier. Basically, Harbinger tries to shatter Shepard's resolve by doubting whether their actions will truly bring permanent peace, while Shepard has to counter these arguments with their own achievements. From a gameplay perspective, I would design it as at least 3 speech checks you have to pass, pertaining to the questions:

Can organics coexist without one race trying to dominate the other? (depending on your solution of the Tuchanka arc)

Can organics and synthetics coexist peacefully? (depending on your solution of the Rannoch arc)*

Can this peace last after the common threat has been eliminated? (depending on whether you gained the cooperation of the other races by trust/convincing or brute force)

*It frustrates me to no end that the Reapers argue "synthetics and organics are destined to fight", and if you actually achieved peace, you don't even get the opportunity to counter this with "Excuse me, but I made peace between the Geth and the Quarians?!"

You have to pass all the speech checks to get the true ending; if you don't, Harbinger is not convinced and will absorb Shepard's consciousness once the firewall breaks. The firewall will also break if EDI is the only one upholding it (since she alone isn't strong enough), and you won't even be able to go through all of the three checks. The Geth need to be present for this, but at the same time, this requires them to withdraw their fleet from their position during the battle to assist Shepard. (Since the EMS is basically just points that you gather, I'd kinda like to do something with the fleets during the final battle; I would love it if you actually had to consider how to place them at the start of Priority Earth, kind of similar to the Suicide Mission from ME2. Each fleet would have a certain amount of hit points, and you have to consider this so the formation doesn't break mid-battle, which results in an instant loss.)

So, you have a lot of opportunities to fail epically, which results in Shepard being fully indoctrinated and becoming a commander of the Reaper forces - in short, the worst ending possible. (This idea is kind of inspired by a piece of Reaper Shepard fanart I once saw, which I thought was really cool.)

If you manage to pass the speech checks, however, Harbinger will get pretty pissy (because galactic peace would mean that the Reapers have no purpose) and try to intimidate you by pulling his last trump card: the reveal that everything will go to hell anyway because of the dark energy generated by the mass relays. What follows is one last speech check you need a high amount of Paragon/Renegade points for, essentially telling Harbinger "we'll find another way - we don't need your technology". Now, that makes Harbinger really angry, attacking the barrier erected by EDI and the Geth relentlessly. Meanwhile, the mental duel between Shepard and Harbinger would buy the fleets time to get into position for a fatal strike against Harbinger, since Harbinger is too busy fighting Shepard to do anything else. Shepard is trying to hold out as long as possible, but when the barrier is just about to break, they order EDI and the Geth to withdraw, since they don't want them to die (with EDI being a little more reluctant about it than the Geth). After a final exchange of words, everything blows up around Shepard and Harbinger, while in the real world, Harbinger is finally defeated - at the price of Shepard's consciousness dissolving alongside his.

After losing their spearhead, the Reaper forces would probably be in disarray - perhaps the fleets manage to take out a few more, and the rest flees. In the meantime, however, EDI suffers from a breakdown, since she believes she failed her task of protecting the Normandy crew by letting Shepard die. After Joker calmed her down, people start asking what happened to Shepard. EDI and the Geth tell them of Shepard's sacrifice, as well as the fact that the use of the mass relays comes with the inherent risk of the entire universe being destroyed (they overheard Shepard and Harbinger talking, so they can actually warn the others about it). Shocked by this, all species agree on reducing the use of mass effect technology - not all at once, but gradually over a longer time span.

A few years later, all mass relays are finally about to be shut off. Knowing that this is probably the last time they'll see each other, the Normandy crew meets again for one last time. They share a few anecdotes about Shepard, and remark on how their legacy lives on, since all of them wouldn't even be standing there without them. Finally, everyone returns to their homeworld, we see how the mass relays are turned off, and roll credits: the end of Mass Effect (literally).

I won't claim it's perfect and I would probably need some time to properly flesh it out, but I suppose it's not worse than anything BioWare gave us. xD

Yep, the loss of control over Shepard is something I definitely felt as well. In ME1 and ME2, I played my Shep in a not-overly-emotional kind of way, but in ME3, I could no longer do that. I think a lot of this has to do with removing the neutral dialogue options - it feels like you can only choose between two extremes, with a lot of the Paragon options being pretty cheesy and the Renegade ones being downright mean. Somehow, this made my Shepard feel like a completely different person than back in ME2, which alienated me quite a bit.

I'm one of those people who drink in even the smallest side quests, and as far as side content goes, I really liked ME1 the best. I loved the exploration in that game (so much that I actually missed the Mako in ME2 xD), and it's my favorite of the series overall. ME2's loyalty missions were stellar, but once you start looking at the N7 side quests, it really shows that they didn't put the same effort into them, which was quite a bummer for me (story-wise, most of them were completely pointless). I appreciated that they gave the N7 missions back some story context in ME3, but yeah, they felt really repetitive over time. Also, most of the dialogue you have with NPCs in ME3 are binary "agree/don't agree" choices, which really didn't feel that engaging for me.

Honestly, the Tuchanka arc was the best written part of the main story for me - the emotional moments actually felt earned (I almost shed a tear at Wrex calling me his sister ;_;), and it was one of the few parts of the game where I really enjoyed the humor (Wrex and Mordin are such a top-tier comedic duo that I wish we got more of them together).

Samara is one of the characters that was a positive surprise for me - when I first met her, I thought she would be really self-righteous, but her personality is actually quite complex. I love that they gave her the opportunity to work things out with her daughters (although I wish it could've been under better circumstances) - it's a really great conclusion for her character arc.

This might be a bit of an unpopular opinion, but another one of my favorite parts was the Omega DLC - I loved the dynamic between Aria and Nyreen, and Nyreen in general was just such an awesome character (shame that they had to kill her off :P).

Also, despite the entire Cerberus plot feeling really forced, I think the conclusion of Miranda's arc was actually one of the most satisfying in the entire game. She goes from an absolute Cerberus loyalist to doubting her allegiance, and in ME3, she finally challenges both her father and her former boss to do what she thinks is right - it's such a great development.

So, yeah - ME3 definitely had its moments. It's just that compared to the two previous entries, they were few and far between.

ME1 replay thoughts, wrapping up the Citadel quests:

-The Quarians have uncovered the most mass relays. Logical enough, since they spend all their time in space

-Fist is long gone, but everyone is still talking about him like he's alive. Not sure if that's a bug or an oversight on Bioware's part

-There are a lot of humans in the Wards. I'm going to assume Shepard's in the Citadel equivalent of Chinatown for humans

-There aren't any Turians in the Wards until the Markets. Was that intentional on Bioware's part because of humanity's poor relations with them?

-Conrad's "wife" will love him hanging a picture of femshep in their living room. Uh uh. Sure.

-Starting the Keeper quest by speaking to Jahleed sure leads to different results! Had to fight Chorban. And volunteering to scan the Keepers means I missed out on the paragon points when I returned to Jahleed. :/ Worth seeing once, but not repeating in the future.

-The Keepers and the Citadel are a total blackbox. How did anyone get the idea that inhabiting this place was a good idea, much less making it the center of government? And why don't they at least research it?

-Yep, running all over the Citadel again to scan the Keepers is very aggravating.

-Just how did Septimus learn Xeltan's secrets?

-Turians only wear those hoods in the Wards, not on the Presidium. There are Turians in casual clothes on the Presidium, so I suppose the hoods are just super casual? Like hoodies?

-The Banes person who blackmails Dr. Michel is built up, and then goes absolutely nowhere. Others have said it more eloquently than me, but it is a letdown.

-Shai'ra's words are a bit disappointing to me. Insightful, I suppose, but not so poetic to be beautiful or helpful to be meaningful. I don't mind helping her, but I'm not counting the words as a reward.

-And again once she's done with me and asks me to leave, because she's everything she can for me... I'm just saying, Shepard could probably use a massage. Or someone that isn't a crewmate to talk to. This is what makes me feel used. At least invite me back for tea next time I'm on the Citadel or something.

It's like the consort wants to know everyone except Shepard.

-The Signal Source sidequest is probably the closest Mass Effect comes to foreshadowing the end of ME3, sadly enough. And a large chunk of players probably never started it, and even fewer probably finished it.

-I should have realized Tali would object to possibly resolving matters with the Signal Source peacefully. Of course she would assume it would turn on us. And it insisting that organics must destroy or control synthetics doesn't help.

Still nothing that even hints at Synthesis.

-Interesting. It's possible that Schells was involved in its creation.

The creator originally created a machine to help funnel money from gambling terminals. That machine became an AI, which created the Signal Source, and the original machine was destroyed when the creator realized it was sentient. And who did I just run into that created a device for winning at Quasar in Flux?

However, the Signal Source says the creator is currently serving time in a Turian prison, so Schells probably isn't the creator. They may or may not know each other. Or the Signal Source could have been lying about the creator, the Turian Prison, or both.

-Running all over the Citadel to check each shop is so tedious. Money will become meaningless soon enough, but right now I have very little. At least I picked up a half decent armor for Tali.

[mysaldate]

Whoever sent the ask about Journey, Tumblr ate it and had a stroke, here’s your answer!

THIS POST ORIGINALLY HAD PICTURES AND A VIDEO BUT TUMBLR DECIDED NOT TO ALLOW ANY OF THAT TO GO THROUGH. THIS IS A LONG-TERM ISSUE THAT HAS BEEN REPORTED BY SOME USERS AS FAR AS TWO WEEKS BACK.

Oh boy, I hope you don't mind the nerdy rant that's coming because ngl, I have a LOT to say about this game that hasn't even properly released yet.

AFK 2: Journey is an upcoming game collab between Lilith Games and Farlight Games. You may recognize this combination of developers from Dislyte, but don't worry, this is nothing like Dislyte. Well, at least not in the bad aspects of it. You can view the official trailer for the closed beta right here and there are already plenty of people who made videos about it on YT regarding the gameplay and general feel of the game. In short, it's a more or less open-world game where you play as a prophesized savior of Esperia against one particular threat. I'll go more into detail about what is and isn't in the game under the cut so I don't take up too much space on the timeline and I'll also be adding some pictures and maybe even videos of the game itself.

As I was a part of the closed beta testing, I was able to already see what the game had to offer, and here's my crude review. It won't go over everything so if you have any additional questions, feel free to ask.

So to start with, what separates this game from the already existing AFK game, AFK Arena?

Well, for starters, it features 3D graphics. Now, usually, I'm not too big a fan of 3D graphics. It was my main issue with Dislyte (until I looked at the gacha properly at least), and I'm not a fan of Genshin's style for this very reason. 3D graphics make games difficult to run on devices with overall lower performance and everything becomes that much bigger in the storage as well. Not to mention, usually it doesn't even look good and 2D would've provided a lot more emotion and creative freedom. Genshin constantly struggles with supposedly emotional moments falling flat because of both pacing and the limited range of emotions in their 3D models. Dislyte doesn't animate most stories and thus avoids this pitfall... without actually fixing the problem either. On the other hand, I think Journey did a good job portraying emotions even on the NPC faces despite the 3D model limitations. If anything, they were a bit too much at times. The overall body language definitely added to this though so it's not like everything hung only on the facial expressions. They weren't afraid to utilize their whole models to get the feeling across and it certainly paid off. And sure, the expressions are still sometimes a mess and my poor screenshotting skills definitely don't help my case, but you'll see what I mean with the videos. For now, have this.

(very awkward screenshot of a sad bunny mom was here)

The model is a little awkward because of the screenshot but Adeline really sold her distress. She was constantly rubbing at her eyes wiping her tears away, blinking them away, and shaking. She's afraid about her lost child and she behaves like someone in such a situation. She doesn't stand stiff and stare blankly off into the distance.

Another key difference is the aforementioned open world. Now again, it is not quite as open as in Genshin, you cannot climb or swim, and a lot of locations require you to follow specific paths to get to, but you can still frolic in the fields of grain and go off course to grab a random treasure chest or fight a random enemy. You also get rewards for filling out the map. You can choose up to four characters you have drawn in gacha to follow you around and they have no relation to your party whatsoever so you can just put your favorites there without having to worry about combat. The world is split into several larger areas with a bunch of smaller areas within each one. You can progress to the next areas regardless of where you are in the main story which is nice. There's no Inazuma situation where you can't go somewhere until you get there in the story. Every bigger and smaller area is locked behind a small boss fight and there are also teleports on the map. Much appreciated is also the auto-pilot function where you can simply choose a goal and your character will automatically find the shortest route to get there if it is possible, and then walk on their own.

Last but not least, I need to talk about the main character. AFK Arena is wonderful thanks to it not having a main character to dictate the course of its story, even though it kind of seemed like that's where it was going at the start. Journey, on the other hand, decided to commit to the idea of having a playable main character. I wasn't a fan of it when I first heard about it but it kind of blew me away with how seamless they made it and how neatly it fits in with the rest of the game. I will get more into the MC a little bit later.

That were just the key differences between AFK Arena and AFK 2: Journey. So let's talk more about Journey itself.

The story of the prologue, and thus kind of the overarching story, is a little cliché at the start. No star-traveling twins fighting an evil god and getting separated, no world of godly powers bestowed upon mortals. There is a prophesized main character, us, who was foretold to save Esperia from the spreading corruption of dark miasma. That's right, no Hypogean threat and war between good and evil, well at least not in the traditional sense of the word. Also, we have amnesia. But don't worry, there's a reason for it. At the start of the game, we get found by a duo of traveling mercenaries, Ella and Valen. Ella is a mage who studied at the Astral Academy, while Valen is a sword-user, though he can't really be called a knight, and they were hired by someone to find this someone's master. At the start of the game, after they find us, we are completely covered up, you can't see anything at all about the MC.

(a screenshot of a covered up MC was here, they are wearing full-body robes that go over their head and a full face mask that hides their whole face, on their chest is a white gem)

This becomes important later because after meeting with the client who sent them to find us, we are taken to our main base – a building on the back of a massive terrestrial creature that has all the possible accommodations including the Noble Tavern (with best girl Dolly) and a changing room. The MC, once you get past the prologue, is CUSTOMIZABLE. You can pick between the male and female body, there's a variety of skin tones, both natural and not, and you gain avatar items as you progress the story or you can buy them from the shop. You can get fox ears, a monocle, an eye mask, full-body outfits, and more. This honestly excited me so much and it immediately elevated this game in my head so much more. Furthermore, while the MC doesn't fight on your team, they stand in the back and provide various valuable buffs from healing to attack power-ups to even damaging enemies. In a way, the MC is functionally similar to the new Beasts feature in AFK Arena.

The one drawback I would call out is that there's not really much of anything just yet but this was just the closed beta after all. They'll probably add a lot of new stuff before the actual release. You can also choose a faction for your avatar frame but the only ones in the game so far were Lightbearers and Maulers, and the Lightbearer one was the default frame while the actual Lightbearer-looking frame was labeled as Maulers, so nothing is perfect, but there is a very solid base that we could see great expansions upon.

Aside from the MC, you build a team of up to five heroes much like you would in AFK Arena. You also get tutorial heroes for free. These heroes are Ella, Valen, Chippy, and Hammie. Speaking of whom, Chippy and his cousin Hammie are the two who originally hired Ella and Valen and though I would personally consider them related to the Wilders or Maulers, they were apparently accepted as Lightbearers. Maybe the centuries-old race war is finally getting better? Chippy looks like a chubby little hamster knight and works as a tank, and Hammie is similar to a white weasel and has minor magical powers and healing abilities. They come with a whole family of similar creatures who all work for us and do lots of little background things like scouting out maps for treasure and enemies. What's most important though is that they are absolutely ADORABLE!

(several pictures of cute little fuzzy babies were posted here, you can still find Chippy as the game's official profile picture on FB, and Hammie appeared on the closed beta announcement picture)

Aside from the starting four, you can recruit characters through a gacha system in the tavern, just like in the old AFK Arena. The gacha now has an animation that, while far from great, I just can't stop watching. And it is pretty much only for the Dolly animation and especially the way her skirt twirls. 3D animated skirts usually tend to be awfully stiff or feel heavy and suffocating, but as someone who wore them quite a lot not that long ago, I appreciated how realistic and light Dolly's skirt seemed in it. This is a weird detail to get hung up on, I know, but I always focus on weird things, we all know that by now.

(a video of the gacha pull was here, it opens in a cozy-looking shared space with a bar, several tables, a changing room, and even a small store, Dolly is cleaning tankards when she notices the player came to gacha and sets her work down to motion towards larger animations playing out behind her where we can see some of the characters we can pull, after clicking on the 10-pull option, she runs out to the balcony and tosses out a handful of envelopes that fly into the air, day turns into night and a single envelope returns, lighting up beacons indicating the rarities of heroes in the pull)

And yes, I keep mentioning Dolly. However, Dolly is not the only familiar face we'll meet in Journey. A whole set of heroes from AFK Arena shows up in Journey as well. From the Lightbearers, we have Lucius, Rowan, and Mirael, from the Maulers, there's Brutus, the Wilders brought Eironn and Lyca, and the only Graveborn from the original game who made the cut, for now, is Thoran. Aside from them, the game also has a plethora of new original heroes. And these heroes certainly look every bit as unique and diverse as you would expect from an AFK game! During the beta, the game didn't have any backstories just yet, but it had a dedicated space for them so we can expect them to show up soon. Let me quickly walk you through the new heroes!

(two pictures from the promo materials were there; the first one depicted Ella, a young and fairly androgynous woman with chin-length white hair and blue eyes, she is wearing a blue barret, a white and gold vest with a closed top and a turtleneck, blue cape falls from it on both front and back and the front part is divided into two halves, leaving an opening to see her vest through, she also has dark blue booty shorts and long cream-colored stockings on, she wields a golden staff with a blue gem on top; the second picture depicted Valen, he is a leisurely looking young man with a mess of brown hair falling down to his shoulders and wears a white shirt with a dark blue tunic and a fur-lined brown cloak together cream-colored pants and high brown boots, he is equipped with a sword as well as leather arm braces, by his waist hangs the sheath and another sheathed sword)

First, we have Ella and Valen (and sorry I don't have my own screenshots for them, I have their animations). Both of them are Lightbearers and I also introduced them a little bit, but since they play a big part in the main story, I can talk more about their personalities. Ella is smart and relies on her wits but is prone to anger at times and has a strong sense of justice. On the other hand, Valen is laid-back and more careful about how he comes across to others but he has a good head on his shoulders and remembers to consider options outside of what's right in front of our faces. They're a refreshing duo and it's easily understandable why they've stuck together as mercenaries.

Sadly, Chippy and Hammie don't really show up much after the prologue so there's not much more to them other than being loyal and very adorable. Chippy has great faith in us as the prophesized hero while Hammie has a more leveled approach and keeps things on the cooler side.

(a picture here depicted Merrin, she is a young blonde woman, her hair is tied in twin braids but several strands escaped and stick out wildly, she's wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and brown pants rolled up to her knees and on her head sits a white and blue Robin Hood-style hat, she wields a bow and by her hip hands a quiver of arrows and a fox tail, she also has a dagger strapped to her other hip)

The Lightbearer lineup is finished by Merrin. She's born of noble blood but after her mother got murdered, she ran away from home seeking vengeance. This is actually a part of the main story so I don't want to spoil too much but she is very energetic, dedicated, and doesn't mind changing plans on the run if she can attain her goal. She's also not stubborn and can admit when she made a mistake, but she won't put up with nonsense. She's a genuinely refreshing character in an already very good story quest.

(a picture here depicted Hewyn, she is a small girl with pointy ears, her golden hair is tied in two braids and rolled up on the sides of her head, there is a tear-shaped mark on her forehead, she has green eyes and a somber or perhaps distrusting look, she is wearing an ankle-length dress of white and green with a few golden touches and holds a leaf bigger than she is as an umbrella or maybe to provide shade from the sun)

Moving on to the Wilders, we have Hewyn. Unfortunately, if she does appear in the main story, I didn't get to her during the beta so I can't really talk much about her, but she is a dedicated healer and her healing is absolutely busted. I'm sure this will get rebalanced soon but during the beta, she was easily healing 50k HP with her ult while my main AoE DPS dealt a little over 13k damage to the enemies. In her animations, she appears very shy and almost fearful.

(a picture here depicted Seth, a powerfully-built anthropomorphized black panther, he has golden tattoos or perhaps paint on his chest like the rays of the sun coming from below where his neck protection spreads over his shoulders, the neck protection gear is connected to a sleeve over his right arm, both of his arms sport leather bracers, he also wears tight pants of light leather and there are several protective bindings on his legs, his claws are painted gold, by his waist are several signal horns fastened to a wide belt)

That's all the Wilders so moving on to the Maulers. This is Seth and he's a black panther assassin. And that's all I know about him since he doesn't have a backstory and his animations seem generally guarded so I can't read much into them.

(a picture here depicted Bo, he is a massive rhino with a huge battering ram in his arms, he is wearing a fur-lined red attire and sports red body paint around his neck, he is also equipped with heavy-looking arm bracers and a protective piece on his head going from between his eyes to around his horn for which it has a hole, the armor seems to be made of black scales and held together with golden seams, he also has a golden nose ring)

Bo has to be one of my favorite designs simply for how unconventional he is. He's just. so. large. He's the tankiest tank who ever tanked. But in his animations, he also appears very aloof and sleepy, like he used a lot of energy charging and pushing back the enemy, and now he just needs a nap.

(picture here depicted two meerkat-looking Maulers, one significantly larger than the other, obviously the adult of the two if they truly are the same species, the smaller meerkat isn't wearing any clothes but is holding a blue bottle while the larger meerkat creature is wearing a red vest and red and brown drop-crotch pants, as well as red wrist bracers and a colorful necklace, they have dreadlocks on the back of their head and a green stalk between their teeth, one of their hands is extended forward and would be holding a censer if my screenshots weren't always taken in the worst possible moment)

Daka and Waka are a support duo of Maulers whose entire kit revolves around spreading smoke from their censer with different kinds of incense granting different buffs for their allies, with healing added to the mix at their ult. I couldn't even tell you which is which but know that the bigger one of the duo seems to be a parental or guardian figure to the smaller one – and is very anxious about anything possibly happening to their protegé.

(the picture here depicted a ginger hyena with a surprisingly large and fluffy-looking tail as well as very defined and round buttocks, he isn't wearing anything but a loincloth, a shoulder pad on his right shoulder, and a few leather straps that hold his quiver of blowdarts in place on his back, he has a blowgun in one hand and holds the index finger and thumb of the other hand up as if in a greeting, by his waist hangs the skull of a small cow and an inconspicuous flask, he has a leisure relaxed smile on his face, his eyes half-lidded)

The last Mauler of the bunch is Eddie. Okay, I lied, Eddie is probably my favorite design. He attacks with a blowgun and has a very relaxed air around him. For some reason, they gave him the seductive eyebrow wiggle in one of his animations. He's pretty decent at close combat too but definitely prefers to stay at a range.

(depicted here was Lelana, a graveborn young-looking woman with a very sleepy look to her, she has dark circles around her eyes like she hasn't slept in a very long time, her hair is very long and goes from dark gray on top to very light pale green at the ends, she is wearing a long layered dress of dark blue and dirty white with motifs of snowflakes towards the bottom, the white parts of her dress resemble melting snow, her long sleeves are poofy and white and she's wearing white gloves, over her shoulders is a dark blue overcoat and her neck is protected by a ruff, she is holding a tall and thin candelabra with three candles)

Lelana is absolutely gorgeous. That's it, that's my review. No, I'm kidding obviously. She's a mage who summons snowballs and snow-themed attacks, and I think her outfit is very lovely. It has the weight of a heavy blanket to it and it works really great. She doesn't move much but what few moves she does have in her animations are all fluid and elegant, albeit tempered.

(the last picture in this post was Igor, a graveborn whose face is completely hidden behind a knight-like helmet with only his long light green hair escaping it, a sword is sticking out of his upper back causing him to be hunched forward, a large iron with three heavy nails is rammed across his shoulder blades, and he has a heavy spiked shackle around each wrist, he isn't wearing a shirt and his pants, though they have holes in them, are a similar color to his skin but he is also wearing a loincloth over his pants, he dual-wields large blades and is crouching on a gravestone)

And last but certainly not least is Igor. He is somewhat similar to Grezhul with his kit of summoning gravestones but unlike Grezhul, he can teleport between them and activate them, giving debuffs and, I believe, damage over time to all enemies within a certain range. As for his animations, most are surprisingly aloof and seem to kind of hint at him perhaps feeling lonely as he currently is. Though only a full backstory will be able to tell us everything we need to know.

I will not get too much into the story and gameplay in this answer as this is already long enough but I want to mention one more thing regarding the battles. Aside from the battles having a hexagon grid system and thus a lot more combinations for positioning the party. Furthermore, there are various battle modes that allow you to experiment with your teams and units to figure out who works best where as well as devices you can manually use to turn the tide of battle. For example, there are defense battles where you need to defeat waves of enemies before they can damage a cart of supplies. There are solo battles where you can only use a singular hero to defeat several opponents. There are also tactical showdown battles where you can pick a limited number of units from a preset group and defeat tough enemies. The devices include a water gun that slows enemies down, walls and barricades that need to be broken down or circumvented, a flamethrower that deals damage and lingering burns, and more. The combination of all of these makes the battles really engaging and enjoyable, though, of course, you can still steamroll almost everything with high enough levels. There's also PvP, boss battles, and Labyrinth (although that one needs some severe adjustments).

Well, I'll get off my rant now, I'm sure I've wasted enough of your time. If you wanna see anyone's animations that I talked about or are ready to listen to me rant about the AFK Arena characters and their designs in the 3D art style, or anything else, hit me up anytime! My brain is overflowing with this game rn so I will be more than happy to answer anything!

[spaceskam]

welcome to another "I wrote this at work ignore the typos" situation featuring content in the little teaser for s3

ao3

"Michael Guerin with a cup of tea. Interesting."

"Bettering myself with soothing beverages," Michael said, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at Alex. He still felt a little off kilter, but he had no intention of guilt tripping Alex. It was a work in progress. He was a work in progress.

"Is that a quote from self proclaimed life coach Isobel Evans?" Alex asked, cocking his head to the side and smiling. Michael felt dizzy with it. It'd been so long without that fucking smile.

"How'd you know?" Michael asked, trying to keep the conversation light and not let it drift to an antagonistic place. He was good at that. Unfortunately, he was less good at keeping that at bay. "Where's the boyfriend?" Work in progress.

"He couldn't stick around, had to get to a meeting. He just met me at the bus stop," Alex said. Michael nodded and only then let his eyes drift away from his face, giving him a quick once over and tried not to be greedy with it. He still had his bags. "Is this seat taken?"

"Yeah," Michael said, casual as possible because Alex deserved that, "Saving it for this guy I met a few years back. You might know him. Around my height, dark hair, nice biceps, used to be in the army, killer thighs–literally, I almost suffocated me once."

"Shut up," Alex laughed, sitting across from him, "And I wasn't in the army."

"Same evil."

"Fair enough," Alex said, clasping his hands together and leaning forward, "Man, what's a guy gotta do around here to get a drink?"

Michael absolutely did not get his hopes up about this.

"Just sit there and look pretty," Michael said, pushing himself to his feet.

He'd been working a little harder and getting Sanders to make the place look a bit nicer in the front so new comers would show up, both resulting in everyone making more money. It was the most money Michael had ever had saved up before and he barely knew what to even do with it. He'd never wanted it before, never wanted to act like he was here to stay, but now it was there and now he could pay for Alex's drink.

He allowed himself to feel a little good about himself for that.

He order a medium vanilla latte, extra vanilla and an extra shot of expresso like he'd seen Alex order when they were a younger. Before he was a complete fuck up. Before when ordering anything but black coffee felt rebellious. And he paid for him for the first time. And he absolutely wasn't prideful bringing it back.

The look on Alex's face said he was also aware that this was the first time he could afford to buy him something so trivial, but he wasn't going to say anything because he was Alex. He took a sip as Michael sat across from him again and he smiled with a tiny bit of foam gracing his top lip. Michael felt his chest constricting with some twisted sort of pride and he refused to let himself be embarrassed by it.

"Thank you," Alex said.

"No problem."

Then they lapsed into silence, drinking their respective drinks and staring. Alex never turned his head away like he usually did; Michael never broke the silence like he usually did. None of it was awkward or uncomfortable or tense. It was just... having non-alcoholic drinks with someone he loved in whatever sense of the word he could.

It was nice. It was easy. It was something so completely different than Michael knew what to do with.

He craved more.

"So, do you need a ride to your house so you don't have to walk with all that?" Michael asked, definitely not mentioning that Forrest at the very least could've taken it. Granted, there's a chance he offered and Alex declined, which would be very much like Alex, but still. If he can kiss him, he can help with his bags.

"Depends. Are you willing to drive out to the middle of nowhere?"

"So that was a sold sign," Michael said. Alex took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yeah. It was a nice house, but it didn't really feel like home, you know? And after everything..."

"No, I get it," Michael said, nodding, "So where are you staying now?"

"Old Valenti hunting cabin. My cut of the inheritance and what I'm getting for selling my house is gonna be used on making it decent," Alex said.

"And amping up the security system," Michael added. Alex grinned and nodded.

"And amping up the security system."

"Well, it's my day off, so I can definitely take you," Michael said, not saying he took the day off specifically to meet Alex. That wasn't necessary information.

"You don't have to."

"What if I want to?" Michael asked. Alex looked at him, still smiling but he was clearly a little wary. "Just let me help out. I'm even going to try to not make you feel bad about the boyfriend."

"Oh, well, thank you so much for your efforts," Alex said sarcastically, but his tone was light and his smile was even more so, "But you really don't mind?"

"Alex, it's the least I can do," Michael said. It sounded weird in his voice, but it felt right. Alex seemed to agree if the look on his face said anything. Michael was more than a little proud of himself for not second guessing himself or assuming the worst.

Maybe he actually did do some growing.

"Okay then. Let's go."

Having Alex in his truck again didn't feel real. He was giddy in a way he hadn't felt in awhile and the fact that his bags were on the floor and not between them made that feeling skyrocket. Alex was comfortable with him. Or, at least, he seemed to be.

"Did you have fun?" Michael asked. Alex huffed a laugh.

"Well, I mean, I was doing dirty work, so not really. Forrest met me a couple times but I never wanted him to stay too long, was way too dangerous," Alex said, turning in his seat to face him.

"When I came out there with Kyle, you let me stay awhile," Michael said. He wasn't bragging. Absolutely not. He was simply useful for the task at hand and Kyle had to get back to work. Them eating take out on a hotel room floor and staying up too late was just convenient, a secret little addition to the trip.

"Yeah, but I trust you not to get killed by accident," Alex said, "Forrest had a good childhood. He's not at all aware of his surroundings like you are."

"Good for him," Michael said, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. Alex may or may not have noticed.

"Also," he said slowly, "I'm kinda getting spoiled with the telekinesis thing, I'm not gonna lie."

Michael bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to be unnecessarily happy with that.

"Well if you ever need to make use of it, I'm your man," Michael said. Alex hummed in response–Michael couldn't tell if it was an acknowledgment or agreement.

It was around a 45 minute drive to the Valenti hunting cabin and the trip there was a bunch of small, winding, hand-made paths. You couldn't find it if you didn't know it was there. It was perfect for Alex.

Michael helped him get his bags inside and took in the fact that most of the stuff that had been in his house wasn't present. The furniture was broken in and there were a few boxes around, but not enough to hold everything from his house.

"I need a change," Alex said, going to the breaker box to turn the electricity on, "I thought that when I came back the first time that would be my big change, but I just did more of the same shit. So this is a real change."

"Sounds like it'd be good for you," Michael agreed.

"Yeah," Alex sighed, looking around. His eyes eventually landed on Michael again. "Do you have to go?"

"No, not unless you want me to," Michael said. Alex nodded.

"Move some boxes for me, telekinesis boy?" he asked. Michael grinned.

"Sure."

The spent what felt like two hours rearranging and unpacking and cleaning, Alex encouraging him to show off in a way that felt so ridiculously good. Everything about this was good. Spending time with him without expectation and tension and time limits.

He loved him more than his body had space for.

"Michael!" Alex said, immediately followed by a laugh, "You're going to break something!"

"I won't, have faith," Michael said, pulsing with the attention, "And if I do, I'll fix it."

He twisted his wrist, manuvering the fully put together bed frame through the door with his mind. It bumped into the door frame once or twice, but Alex just laughed and lightly scolded him.

Later, once they did what they could and got settled, Michael found himself on Alex's back porch with cans of coke in hand instead of beer.

"I love the view," Michael said.

"There's deer that'll get close if you're quiet," Alex said, "You'll have to sit with me to see them sometime."

"Yeah, whenever you'll have me," Michael said.

"Whenever you want," Alex responded. He sounded like he meant it.

Him meaning it didn't stop his phone from lighting up, didn't stop the way Alex's face closed off, didn't stop the way he sighed and locked it back. He took a long sip of his drink before he spoke.

"Forrest is on his way," Alex said. Michael shifted in his seat and nodded.

"So I should go."

"Do you have work tomorrow?" Alex asked instead of saying leave, instead of saying stay.

"Yep, bright and early."

"Okay," Alex said, "If I bring my truck up there in the morning, do I get privileges where I can sit with you in the back while you look over it and tell me what I need to fix after it sitting in my yard for nine months?"

Michael swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. He was leaving, he had to go because it wasn't his place to stay right now. But there was a promise of tomorrow. Of spending more time together just because.

The privilege of it, Alex said.

"Absolutely," Michael said, standing up, "I'll squeeze you in."

"Cool. I appreciate it," Alex said, looking up at him with a smile, "And I appreciate you helping me out today. Made all of that a lot easier."

"Not a problem," he said, "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Wait," Alex said quickly, getting himself to his feet and coming closer. Without much of a warning about what exactly was coming, Alex wrapped his arms around his neck. Michael hugged him back easily.

Alex squeezed him; Michael squeezed back.

"I'm so glad you're back," Michael whispered against him.

"I've gotta come home at some point, right?" Alex whispered back. Michael nodded.

They held on for longer than they should.

"Alright," Alex said after awhile, letting go with a reluctance Michael wasn't so unfamiliar with it ached, "I'll see you in the morning. I'll bring food."

Michael didn't like to get his hopes up.

He decided not to be scared this time.

[foxxgirlvibes]

He gets jealous of your friend

Characters: atsumu, sakusa, kuroo, tendou

Summary: your boyfriend feels a bit left out whenever your best friend comes into the picture

』 ATSUMU

Probably the most obvious about his jealousy

Feels like every time your bestie shows up he’s second place :(

Doesn’t even try to hide it he complains to your face

Your friend definitely amps up the affection to annoy him

Atsumu huffed loudly as your best friend arrived at the park. He turned his back to them ready to flop into your lap when suddenly you were standing and running away from the picnic blanket.

“Y/N!!!!”

“B/F/N!!!!” You fell into a fit of giggles as the two of you collided in a hug. Leading them to the blanket, you sat between them and your boyfriend.

“Why dontcha hug me like that doll?” Atsumu whined as he pulled you closer to him while glaring at your friend.

You turned to him, eyebrow raised, “we live together tsumu, I hug you all the time.” You offered him a bite of the cookie in your hand, “and you could hug me like that, yet you don’t.” He accepted your cookie, pout still etched on his face.

While you were distracted by your phone, b/f/n sent atsumu a smug smile and picked up a strawberry. They poked you on the thigh, “hey, y/n,” you looked up at them curiously, “the strawberries are so sweet, open your mouth and I’ll feed you this one.” Smiling you leaned over and let them feed you the strawberry.

Atsumu was glaring holes into their head, “jeez b/f/n, don’t ya got yer own s/o to feed huh?”

You and your best friend let out a laugh at his blatant jealousy. “See y/n, I told you he was jealous of me, you owe me $20” Rolling your eyes you took out your wallet, slapping the money in their hands.

Turning to your gawking boyfriend, you sighed, “couldn’t you at least be subtle about it.” He sputtered out nonsense, face turning red, you waved him off. “And you,” you glared at you friend who was still laughing, “feeding me is basically cheating, we both know that was gonna set him off”

Your boyfriend draped his chin on your shoulder, “doll yer not playin fair” he whined. “Why would ya play wit my emotions like that”

Running your hand over his cheek you placed a kiss on the top of his head, “it’s funny to watch because you know b/f/n and I are only friends.” You tilt his chin up to place a chaste kiss on his lips, “you’re the one I’m dating dummy, I love you”

The grin that you love so much returned to his face as he kissed you again, “I love ya too, even though yer mean.” You rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead, your best friend made gagging noises from their side of the blanket.

』 Sakusa

The hardest to tell he’s jealous

Doesn’t want you to know, he thinks it’s embarrassing

Gets upset when you ignore him for your bff

Literally will deny it to the day he dies

You had been texting your best friend for the past hour and a half. There was drama going on in your friend group and the two of you were going from the group chat to sharing your opinions with each other. Normally this wouldn’t have been an issue, but unlike most Friday nights, your boyfriend was home.

Sakusa was sitting on the bed next to you, he had been silent ever since you started tapping constantly at your phone. MSBY practice had been cancelled and he had been looking forward to spending the day with you. Which he technically was, but not in the way he wanted.

His eyes left the show he had put on as you let out a gasp and the tapping increased in speed. He wanted to lay on your lap and have you run your hand through his curls, but he couldn’t be certain you would stop texting to indulge him. He let out a soft sigh, “are you and b/f/n still going?” You nodded without looking up at him. His lips moved into a slight pout as he turned back to the tv, “oh.”

He startled as you let out a sudden string of giggles. Tilting your head up at him in what felt like the first time you showed him your screen, “look what b/f/n just said, they’re so funny I love them.”

He starred blankly at your screen, “yeah, they’re hilarious.” Lips pursed he pointedly looked away from you, to the tv. Sakusa was incredibly annoyed that you had ignored him for so long only to speak to him when complimenting your best friend.

You texted your friend you were gonna dip for a bit. Turn your phone off you looked at the grumpy man next to you. “Omi what’s got your boxers in a bunch?”

“Me and my boxers are just fine y/n.”

“Omg omi, your pants are on fire!!” You snickered as he gave you a deadpan state.

He rolled his eyes at you and crossed his arms, “there’s nothing wrong, go back to your texting.”

That’s when it clicked for you, he was jealous of the attention you were giving to your friend. Cooing lightly, you reached for him, pulling him down on top of you. “I’m sorry for ignoring you baby, there’s no need to be jealous.”

He huffed and pulled your hand towards his hair, snuggling into you as you began playing with it, “‘m not jealous, that’s a stupid suggestion.”

You smiled down at your boyfriend knowing that you were absolutely right.

』 Kuroo

Another obvious one, but not as whiney as Atsumu

Tries to impress you to get your attention

Will embarrass you with his attempts to prove he’s better

Your friend doesn’t know if they should be amused or embarrassed

You and Kuroo had been invited out to watch your best friend play a gig at your local bar. They’re band had landed they’re first performance and you had been excited to support them.

Running up to the stage, you waved eagerly at you friend. They smiled and and reached a hand down to pull you up on the stage. You gave a friendly greeting to the other band mates before giving your friend a bear hug.

“B/f/n I’m so happy for you!!! This is sooo cool.” At this point you were gushing and singing their praises. Your friend matched your enthusiasm walking you around the stage and explaining the set up.

Your boyfriend huffed from the bottom of the stage as you and your friend walked back over. He reached for your hand to help you off and pull you back towards him. “Congrats on the gig b/f/n, can I have my s/o back now?”

Rolling their eyes they turned to you, “hey, cheer extra loud when we play your song.” They smiled as you nodded eagerly. “There now you can take your precious s/o,” b/f/n gave Kuroo a smug smile before heading back to their band mates.

“You know if you wanted a song I can serenade you at karaoke when their set is over.”

Eyes widening you ignored his suggestion before pulling Kuroo over to the table that had been reserved for you. Sure you loved him, but he couldn’t sing for shit.

The performance was going great, then the music changed and you squealed recognizing it as your favourite. Kuroo glanced over at you as you grinned and waved up at b/f/n. What was so great about them? So what they were in a band, you played this song enough he knew all the words. If you wanted it sung to you he could do it.

And do it he did.

You looked up at your boyfriend as he stood from his seat, “babe what are you doing?” The only response he gave you was a lazy smile before he started belting out the lyrics to your favourite song, terribly off pitch and loudly.

B/f/n stifled a laugh at the scene as you glared daggers at them and your boyfriend. Kuroo kept singing his heart out as you face planted into the table, praying the lights were dim enough that no one would be able to see you. After what felt like an eternity the song finished and Kuroo sat back down next to you.

“See, wasn’t that better than whatever b/f/n had going on up there. I’ll sing for you whenever you want baby.” He slung his arm over you shoulder looking very pleased with himself.

You peaked out at him from your arms, “Who lied to you and told you that you were the next Micheal Jackson?” He whined in protest as you continued, “Out of all the ways to process your jealousy you do this.” Waving a quick goodbye to your friend, you dragged Kuroo out of the bar and headed home.

』 Tendou

Not vocal about it but you can see it in his body language

Would hate for you to think that he wants to control who you hang out with

Once you realize he’ll reluctantly admit to it but feels bad

Just needs some reassurance

Tendou sighed as he watched your story again. It was of you and your best friend at the club for their birthday, an outing which you had excitedly rambled to him about for the past few days. He knows that he shouldn’t be bothered, the two of you have been friends for longer than he’s known you. But that doesn’t help the pit in his stomach seeing you dancing on them.

The sinking feeling hasn’t left him since your best friend had arrived at the door and whisked you away with little more than a quick acknowledgment. The both of you in coordinating outfits, telling him not to wait up.

You love him, he knows that, yet his heart squeezes terribly at every new addition to your story. He shook the thought from his mind and turned his phone off, dropping his head into his hands. He was being ridiculous, if you wanted to date your best friend you wouldn’t have moved in with him.

As he wallowed in self doubt, he missed the sound of the door opening as you slipped into your apartment quietly, to ensure you wouldn’t wake him if he was asleep. You were shocked to see your boyfriend on the couch gripping his hair. “‘Tori?” you approach him carefully, “what happened sweetheart?”

He tensed suddenly before looking up at you with a shaky smile, “hi love, how was the club?” He reached out and grabbed your hands.

You fixed him with a stern look, “satori, you can’t lie to me.” Hands still intertwined, you reached up to cup his cheek, stroking it with your thumb. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Sighing he closed his eyes and leaned into your hand. He was silent for a moment before speaking softly, “it’s stupid,” you shook your head and smiled up at him, giving him the confidence to continue, “I dunno... I just- felt kinda upset seeing you have so much fun with b/f/n. You guys are just friends and you love me, I know that, but you always just look so happy with them and I don’t know if I make you feel like that.”

You looked at him for a minute before peppering kisses on his face, “I love you both but I would rather eat dirt than date that idiot, we’re so close they’re like a sibling to me.” He gave you a watery smile as you continued, “and you can ask b/f/n yourself if you don’t believe me, but you make me so happy. You’re literally my favourite person ever.”

He tackled you onto the couch with a hug, “you’re my favourite person ever too y/n!!”

You laughed, running your hands through his hair, “you wanna cuddle and watch a movie?” He nodded enthusiastically as you handed him the remote, placing a kiss on his hair.

This is my first preference so hoping it’s okay. As someone who had an ex be jealous of my best friend I thought this would be fun to write.

Have a wonderful day!!!

[theopolis]

After some surprisingly enthusiastic feedback on the post in which I talked about it, here it is: My fix-it for Harry Osborn's storyline in The Amazing Spider-Man 2

Things start out as they did in the movie. Harry arrives back in NYC. His uncomfortable conversation with Norman and Norman's death ensue. Harry is bitter and conflicted and begrudgingly takes over Oscorp while worrying about his slowly deteriorating health on the side. The parksborn reunion happens.

Here's where I want things to take a turn.

For one, show us that Harry has a soft core. Having Peter back in his life should make his heart melt a little. Establish that he is very much a loving person underneath all the stress and moodiness and that Peter encourages this side of Harry. That way their eventual falling out will also hit harder.

As for the main gist of his arc, TASM Harry's corruption, much like 616 Harry's, is a matter of succumbing to the idea that he owes Norman something.

Remember that data chip Norman gave him at the beginning of the movie? I want it to contain a sort of diary that catalogues Norman's progress with finding a cure for their illness. That way, there's a more personal confrontation with the memory of his father.

The diary entries reveal that the cure was supposed to be based on Oscorp's cross species genetics studies, composing DNA of different animals in a way that would cancel out the various ailments coming with the Osborn's illness. The spider venom was a crucial ingredient in the antidote Norman and his team were working on. Of course, the spiders have been destroyed, which leads Harry to the entire Spider-Man's Blood plan. (Also I always felt there should be something more obvious pointing towards the connection between the Oscorp spiders and Spider-Man. Like build in a scene of Harry finding out that Spidey conveniently showed up a week or so after the lab containing the spiders was broken into and found with a bunch of them running free)

As in the original movie, Peter refuses to give his blood because he's scared it may have dire consequences.

Throughout the story, Harry grows more guilty over his resentment towards Norman, more obsessed with embodying the legacy of his father because that's what he "owes" him. The digital diary entries play a key role in this. In them, Norman will frequently talk about how much work has gone into building Oscorp and how much hope he puts into the creation of the antidote so that his legacy may continue - if not through him, at least through Harry.

Incorporate a recording that would really tip Harry over. A rare moment of vulnerability from Norman, something that Harry's always wanted to hear, just self centered enough that the audience may catch on that there's still something off, but Harry won't. (Would work well in juxtaposition to the Richard Parker video Peter finds too)

Better yet have Harry watch that clip when he explicitly feels abandoned by Peter. Let's say after Harry's conversation with Spidey went the way it did, Harry vented angrily to an anxious out of his mind Pete and pressured him to talk Spider-Man into helping him. Following that, Peter has been avoiding Harry for weeks because he doesn't know what to tell him or how to resolve the situation

But while Harry fears Peter's fading out of his life again, someone else has been fading in. In this version I want Harry and Gwen to meet way earlier in the movie and start developing a friendship that continues to grow throughout the film. They spend a lot of time together at Oscorp. They bond over shittalking Peter. They paint each others nails. This will have a huge impact on Gwen's eventual death.

As the story goes, Menken eventually frames Harry for covering up Max's accident, leading to him being expelled from Oscorp. However, in this version there's an addition to the scene just before the security storms the room, wherein Menken reveals to Harry that he and the other Oscorp chairmen have been gradually poisoning him, causing Harry's condition to worsen rapidly. (This would require some foreshadowing ofc)

In his expendable secondary villain glory, Menken gleefully estimates Harry may be mere hours from death. The stakes are heightened, but at the same time there's the looming awareness that at this point, Harry doesn't want to survive for himself - he wants to survive for Norman.

Harry breaks out Max and they infiltrate Oscorp together. Harry eventually makes it into the secret lab but instead of containing the spider venom, it contains the unfinished formula. And yes, it is green. Seeing it as his absolute last chance, Harry takes the risk and injects himself with the incomplete formula, causing him to undergo a painful transformation and become the mutated Green Goblin. (Who btw should look more monstrous. I'm thinking ITSV but like, brought down to Venom height)

Goblin Harry is terrified and of course blames his state on the missing ingredient. He flies off - with scales and claws and bat-like wings - to hunt down Spider-Man, finds out it's Peter, big dramatic fight with some really chilling dialog ensues. They start duking it out and Gwen, terrified to see two people she deeply cares for fight to a potentially lethal end, tries to interfere but ends up falling to her death due to all the back and forth.

Neither of them technically killed her, yet both of them did in a way.

Harry blames Peter because that's what he's determined to do, and Peter blames himself because, well, he's Peter. Gwen's death actively impacts the dynamic between Peter and Harry (which is still intact as Harry is far more redeemable and Peter mainly wants to help him) and therefore the story from here on out.

[ahtsumu]

again and again and again ; ushijima wakatoshi

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

synopsis: every august 13th, a void opens in your chest. the universe is one sick bastard.

tag(s): soulmate!au, very angsty, equally fluffy, reincarnation!au, prince!ushijima, rebel!ushijima. android!ushijima, dad!ushijima, pro-volleyball player!ushijima ; warning(s): lots of death n dying, suggestive themes, light profanity ; wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday ushi!!! inspired by cloud atlas and the raven cycle but you don’t have to have seen either to understand this fic. tbh it’s just a bunch of different au’s tied together by the strings of fate lol. a thousand thank you’s to @dorkyama​ for beta-ing!

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020

It’s another August 13th and Ushijima Wakatoshi might die today.

Glumly, you push away the plate of breakfast in front of you, cross your arms over the new space, and rest your forehead down as if in front of a grave.

“Please,” you beg with eyes shut. “Let Ushijima Wakatoshi live today.”

(You’ve whispered this phrase infinite times–– so often that it has a home in your mouth like a cavity.)

SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON, 2012

When you first meet Ushijima–– the first first time–– it’s evening and you’re lost in a meadow somewhere in Washington. Where exactly doesn’t quite matter and, even if it did, you wouldn’t be able to remember. At least, not at this moment. Because you see something most peculiar.

Under the half-lit sky, in the glade of overgrown sweet vernal grass and marigolds and daisies, a figure stands paler than the moon overhead.

The body belongs to a young man dressed in a sweater and slacks. His dark hair parts on the side, stopping right above a pair of firm dark eyes. Thin lips press in a perfunctory line, sharp nose radiates an aura of authority.

And yet, he looks lost.

“Hello?” you call out. The boy doesn’t respond, only continues to hover in the middle of the clearing with the same confounded expression on his face. So you ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest and inch closer until you’re just feet away, shivering. It’s a strangely cold day for July, you think.

“Can you tell me your name?” you ask. Seconds pass in silence as he stares past–– no, through–– you. With your thudding heartbeat and shallow breaths still the only sounds in the meadow, you realise that you may have to try something else.

Gently, you touch the pads of your fingers to his shoulder. A fresh wave of ice floods through your veins, raising goosebumps all over your skin. More curiously, though, your fingers fall through said shoulders. It feels like plunging your hand into a bucket of ice.

Eyes wide, you lunge backwards. A ghost?

No, ghosts aren’t real.

(If that’s the case, then what is he?)

At your touch, the boy’s head jerks up. Life floods his gaze. Blinking, he says, “Ushijima.” His voice is low and smooth, but quiet. Firm. He looks around the meadow as if seeing it for the first time.

“Is that all?”

Ushijima’s focus returns to you, this time with the addition of furrowed brows. His eyes are fixed on you in a way that makes you feel as if he’s reading your soul.

“That’s all there is.”

A million questions race through your mind and before you can decide which to ask first, his incorporeal figure vanishes from the meadow.

And you’re alone again.

Oddly enough, the way back to your aunt’s house comes naturally to you. Once inside the ancient wooden manor, you realise that the feeling that guided you back was the same that had led you to the meadow in the first place.

Then, you wonder, had you truly been lost?

Aunt Risa’s an eccentric woman in her thirties, always yabbering on about Mercury in retrograde and events that are yet to happen. Grandma had been the same. Clairvoyance, or what everyone claims is “clairvoyance”, supposedly runs in your family. You wouldn’t know, though, because apparently it skipped your mother. Coincidentally (or not), she’s extremely proud of her normality. And she’s also extremely proud that you, supposedly, are normal, too.

It’s safe to say that you don’t see your mother’s family often.

Still, she sent you here from New York to “connect with your roots”. And even though you know that’s a cover for “raise hell somewhere else for one summer”, you let yourself consider that it means getting acquainted with the mystic mumbo-jumbo you’ve ignored all these years. After all, nothing normal can explain what just happened in the field… right?

Good thing Aunt Risa isn’t normal.

“That’s Glendower’s Meadow you were just in,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes. “Lies atop a very powerful ley line.”

Ley lines, you learn, connect places around the world through electromagnetic forces. They are also able to transcend time, gravity, space… all forces that cannot be seen.

Aunt Risa adds that they do more than just connect places. “Soulmates countries apart can step on any point in the same line to see each other. It’s been said that the power ley lines emit is so strong that even soulmates worlds and years apart can meet in these little pockets of energy. Guess it tides you over til you’re destined to meet.”

Somehow, everything she says makes sense and doesn’t at the same time. Soulmates? Magic? None of this is real, is it?

“Now,” she continues, “it’s odd that you can use ley lines, though. Remember how you couldn’t tell a black jackal from a swan the last time you read tea leaves?”

You frown. At seven years old, you hadn’t exactly been trying.

“I guess there is something supernatural about you! You can’t deny how magical it is to have a love that transcends lifetimes…”

You don’t hear the rest of what she has to say. “Lifetimes?”

“Yup. Soulmates are the only people in this universe who go through reincarnation. The Universe is a hopeless romantic, letting her children fall in love again and again and again.”

And this explanation satisfies you because you’re sixteen, a little naive, and the Universe has never failed you before.

(She will.)

July passes in a honeyed haze: you spend every day with a content curve to your lips, thinking about a boy with eyes and hair dark as night.

Aunt Risa doesn’t have the heart to tell you that she’s seen his future in this life. And when you step out the creaky wooden door for the last time, ready to go back to the bustling jungle that is New York, she calls out to you with an expression you don’t yet recognise. “Don’t you worry, hun. You’ll see that Ushijima boy again.”

But not like this.

You’re about to get out of bed and dress for the first day of school when an out-of-control eighteen-wheeler runs his driver’s black SUV off the road. Ushijima Wakatoshi dies on August 13th in his timezone.

As it happens, you feel a strange sense of loss settle in. It’s like you’d been driving on the highway and just missed the last turn home.

(You’ll learn in the next life that you, in fact, do not have the gift of foresight. But you do have the curse of memory.)

PARIS, FRANCE, 1749

The year is 1749 and sunlight pours through the windows of Ushijima Wakatoshi���s second-floor bedroom.

In this life–– your second life–– you are a brilliant composer. The Universe, as you’ve guessed, follows no rules, no directions. Doesn’t even spare a glance at a linear timeline. Or perhaps, it’s time that isn’t linear. Either way, you try not to think about things out of your control. Life is good now.

At the sound of your fingers waltzing across ivory and ebony, Ushijima slowly sits up in the king-sized, soft linen sheets falling to reveal his chiselled torso.

“Good morning,” he rasps, a content smile tugging at his lips. “You look enchanting as always.”

The melody stops. Between the lid and music rack, your eyes meet–– his gentle, yours mirthful. “You flatter me,” you deny with a cheeky grin. Still, you rise (wearing his robes, Ushijima notes) from your seat and stroll over to your lover, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. “Happy birthday, darling.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I live another year just for you.” Ushijima really means that–– in fact, he believes with his whole heart that he was made for you and you him. There’s no other way to explain how your bodies mould so perfectly together, how you understand each other without even speaking, how time feels like it doesn’t exist whenever you’re around. Your meeting at Duke La Trémoille’s ball could only have been the work of Fate’s nimble fingers.

(It was. A ley line runs underneath the Duke’s family château.)

You hum, thankful that this time you have the privilege to love him as he lives. Your last life was spent agonising over the only memory you had of him. “And what does this day have in store for the man of the hour?” The words that leave your lips morph into bubbling laughter as he moves aside on the bed and pulls you into his embrace. Still giggling, you kiss his bare chest, relishing in how secure his arms feel around your waist.

“Mother is hosting a ball tonight in my honour,” he says. That you are not invited to, he doesn’t add. He doesn’t have to, though, because you know that she doesn’t approve of you. Not being French is the main reason why, but there’s also the fact that you’re a musician. A talented, accomplished, royally recognised musician, sure, but that doesn’t change how at the end of the day, all you have to your name is inked paper.

And Ushijima Wakatoshi is first in line for the throne of France.

“Ah.”

It’s hardly fair for you to feel slighted–– you knew what you were getting into the second the Crown Prince, notorious for his aloof nature, invited you to Versailles to perform for him and his friends.

(In his defense, Duke Tendou had forced his hand by threatening to throw a fit in front of the Queen, but only after he’d seen the painfully restrained wonder in the prince’s eyes.)

Still, you yearn for something more.

Ushijima feels your body stiffen in his arms and knows the moment has soured. “You can never be Queen of France,” he murmurs into your neck. Shivers crawl down your spine the same time tears prick at your eyes. “And I can never give you a throne.” It’s not the throne you yearn for.

“I know.” You curse whoever the lucky girl will be. And you curse Ushijima for reminding you that she will definitely not be you.

“I can only promise you my heart.” He presses his lips to the side of your neck. “My undying devotion.” A kiss to your exposed shoulder. “And my soul in every life we meet.” His hand slides under your chin and turns your head towards his. Soft lips move against yours while the pads of his fingers wipe away the tears that had spilled over your cheeks.

“Toshi, I must say that the literature tutor your mother hired is doing a marvellous job,” you murmur once you pull apart.

A short breath of amusement leaves his nose. “He’s only polishing a gem that already exists,” Ushijima counters.

You smile slyly, another witty remark ready to launch from your mouth, when three sharp knocks at the door cause both of you to freeze.

“My friends, the Devil approaches.” Tendou’s faint voice travels through the opulent front door.

Sighing, you slide off the bed and tug your day dress on. Without being asked, Ushijima ties the laces in the back together. “Tell your mother I said hello, won’t you?” you tease, kissing him deeply on the balcony.

“I’d prefer not to think about my mother with your lips pressed to mine, darling,” he replies.

You giggle softly, and with one leg dangling off the balustrade, say, “And careful not to wear yourself out dancing, Toshi. Expect a visit from me later.”

His sonorous laughter rings through the air as you jump and land deftly on the freshly cut grass below, running the whole way back to your humble apartment in the eleventh arrondissement.

Regrets of not sneaking into the ball will burn into your brain after Tendou arrives at your door later that evening with a faraway stare on his face.

Towards the end of the ball, Ushijima Wakatoshi is led away from the dance floor and into the gardens by his scheming younger brother Goshiki.

He doesn’t return. The beloved Crown Prince of France dies on his twenty-first birthday with a dagger in his chest and poison in his veins.

With two lives under your belt, you reach the cruel understanding that in every life you live, August 13th is the day that Ushijima Wakatoshi dies again and again and again.

In a sense, memory is foresight.

NEO SEOUL, 2144

Tomorrow, the Union Revolutionary Group exposes the government for their crimes against your people.

But tonight, your head rests against his chest–– a habit you picked up sometime after Germany, 1943, even though you are presently in Neo Seoul, 2144. To be honest, you’re not sure if it’s even 2144. Neo Seoul’s calendar isn’t like the one you went through your first few lives with and you’re certain one year here is equivalent to two back on the Earth you knew… or something like that. Either way, every August 13th passes under your nose without detection. Every day passes uneasily, because although you never truly know when anyone dies in any life, you really don’t know when he will in this one.

But hearing Ushijima’s heart beat firmly manages to take the edge off yours. Every pulse is a murmured confirmation that everything is still okay.

You jerk back when he stirs from sleep. Disorientated, Ushijima blinks at your dimly lit figure before registering that it’s you. A confused expression crosses his features. What had you just been doing?

“Is everything alright?” His voice is raspy with drowsiness but he sits upright against the headboard anyway.

“Yeah.”

“No, it’s not. Tell me what’s wrong.” Nothing ever slips past him–– at least, not when it comes to you. Still, you bite your lip and contemplate if it’s worth mentioning. Three years of working alongside the renegade Commander (and hundreds more from other lifetimes) have taught you that words of comfort do not belong in Ushijima’s vocabulary. But it’s the night before you, the only known freed Fabricant working with the Union, are going to expose the Unanimity’s enslavement of Fabricants to all inhabitants of Neo Seoul. And…

“I’m scared, Wakatoshi.”

He thinks you’re talking about tomorrow. His eyes dart to the holographic digits floating throughout his room. 12:02 AM. You’re talking about today, then. He’s not wrong–– you are afraid of today. But you’re also afraid every day.

Ushijima pauses, wondering what to say. He’s never felt fear the same way others do. Others might only see a myriad of ways they can fail or die but he simply sees a chance to prove himself. A chance to emerge victorious. “If you let yourself be scared,” he says, “then you lose without fighting. Fear is a wasted emotion. Even at your last breath, you should never be afraid.”

As you mull his words over in your head, a section of your hair falls in front of your face. Ushijima’s fingers twitch. Would it be too much to––

“Then what should I feel instead?” He stills.

The question hangs in the air, thickening until the spacious room feels suffocating. Normal people–– people you knew a couple of lifetimes ago–– would probably say something like “love” or “hope” or even “don’t”. You think Ushijima might, too.

But when Ushijima speaks, he says, “Feel right now.”

A shift in the moonbeam pouring through your surrounding glass walls casts a muted glow over your features, breaking through the darkness of the room. Ushijima’s olive eyes flash and fall to your shining lips.

His Adam’s apple bobs. Anticipation bubbles in your stomach.

You think that you might die tomorrow. He might die any day. What are you waiting for?

Feeling a fiery rush of blood surge through your veins, you close the distance between your bodies until the tips of your noses touch. Gently, your hand comes up to the back of his neck, feeling his pulse speed up under your fingers. He instantly reaches out, grips your waist firmly. Hot, uneven breaths fan across your face.

“What––”

“I know it’s forbidden between Fabricants and pure-bloods,” you breathe out, “but––”

Ushijima nudges his lips against yours. They move stiffly, unsurely, but it’s sincere. It’s his first kiss and it’s your… you’ve lost count by now. It doesn’t really matter, though. Past, future, or present, every one of his touches feels new.

Both of you might die tomorrow. But tonight, you both are so very alive.

And when his heart pounds, unmuffled, bare against yours, you are reminded to live now.

Twenty-one hours later, a laser beam whizzes past your ear.

“Go faster!” you shout over the wind, tightening your arms around Ushijima’s waist. “We have to get to the broadcast station now.”

“I’m trying,” he grits out, pressing his foot harder against the hoverbike’s pedal. You speed up, but only a little. “Fuck. Remember what I taught you about the laser pistols?”

“Always aim a little higher than you want to.” From the mirrors on the side, you see the corners of his lips quirk up. You reach for the gun in his belt.

Not a single police officer remains on your tail when you step foot into the broadcast station.

“We don’t have much time, miracle girl,” Tendou, a fellow Union soldier, says once you arrive. He punches the elevator button. Instantly, the chute opens. “Cameras have picked up on at least five Unanimity squads headed our way from the city.”

The sinking feeling that today out of all days might be August 13th suddenly weighs on your stomach. A shaky breath leaves your mouth.

Ushijima stops you before you can step in. Cupping your face with his large hands, the brunet gazes deeply into your eyes. “I believe in you,” he murmurs. “I believe in you.” His fingers brush against your cheekbones. You let your eyelids close, relishing in this stolen moment between two new lovers.

Ushijima presses his lips against yours, kissing you as if he’s trying to carve a message into your bones. He whispers his conviction one last time before stepping back and allowing Tendou to push you lightly into the elevator. The thought that Ushijima’s words allude to more than just faith nudges your brain as the two men grow smaller in your sight.

Halfway through your revelations, the Unanimity cuts through the metal doors of the station. Behind the glass panels encasing the radio room, you watch the shootout begin. Every bone in your body screams for you to join your comrades, but you remember what your orders are. No matter what happens, do not stop the broadcast. If the truth doesn’t come out now, the Union will have sacrificed everything in vain.

You will your voice to steady when Unanimity soldiers take out the Union soldiers hiding behind Tendou’s barricade.

You will your hands to unclench when Ushijima deftly slides over his squad’s barricade and tosses a plasma grenade towards a cluster of enemy soldiers, then picks off the survivors with his Union rifle.

You will your breath to endure when the brunet is blown back by a grenade tossed by another squadron. Ushijima’s cranium collides with the floor. His body stills; blood red as cherry wine pools around his head like a cruel halo. Swallowing, you push forth. You’re a soldier.

But you can’t help the way your throat dries or hands shake or lungs tighten when you see his head turn ever-so-slightly in your direction.

He smiles in his last breath.

(The Archivist asks if you loved Ushijima before you are taken away. You tell him you always have, do, will.

The Unanimity guillotine doesn’t scare you like you think it should. Knowing what and who waits ahead, it feels more like a kiss to your neck.)

QAASUURI, 3003

As you step out of the metal carriage, the ground beneath you begins to vibrate. This, as you’ve learned, can only mean that you are standing atop another ley line.

Olive eyes stare at you impassively when you look up. A dazzling array of awards and medals is pinned to his chest over a white military uniform. Compared to all the other soldiers around him, you gather that the deep purple cape over his shoulders means he’s someone important. Possibly your betrothed? You briefly recall another lifetime in which he’d been the crown prince of somewhere, and you, by a spectacular stroke of misfortune, had only been a composer then. Fighting back a smug grin, you muse that this time, you are a princess.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi, Captain of the Qaasuuri Royal Guard, at your service,” he says with a low bow. “King Washijou appointed me to ensure your safety during your courtship with the prince, your highness. These are trying times, especially with the war against Ibis.” Your heart falls. So it’s one of those lives.

Mustering the warmest smile you can, you curtsy and say, “Thank you, Ushijima. I hope we can get to know each other better.”

You do.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But nothing about him feels artificial. He is as real as he was in Berlin. Atlantis. Cairo. Camelot. Hanoi. Olympus. Tallahassee. He feels as human, too.

You get to relearn the way his cheeks flare up when you call him Toshi and not Ushijima for his first time (force of habit)... and every subsequent time (at your pleasure).

You get to relearn his wry humour, how every-so-often his stony demeanour breaks after one of your quick jabs, usually in response to his agonisingly blunt remarks. (“You should have brought a coat, princess,” he notes with disapproval when you shiver in the chilly spring air. You promise him that you look better with hypothermia than in any Qaasuuri coat. An amused breath blows out from his nose. And though he doesn’t say a word more on the subject, his white jacket over your shoulders speaks more than enough.)

You get to relearn how his hands feel on your skin. The first lesson is your mistake: missing a step down the spiralling staircase on your way to dinner. Automatically, his hand grips your arm to pull you back. He uses a little more force than necessary, though, and tugs you into his firm chest. Neither of you can look at each other for the rest of the evening. The second is his mistake: reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you read in the palace library, somehow knowing it’s one of your pet peeves. Both of you freeze when his fingers accidentally brush against your cheek. Ushijima thinks he’s never felt skin softer than yours–– you think it’s been too long since he last touched you.

The third is neither a mistake nor just one of your doings. It happens on a cool autumn evening as the two of you walk through the palace gardens with your hands dangling haphazardly at your sides, knocking against each other again and again as if begging for an opening. Finally, you acquiesce. You slip your hand into Ushijima’s cold palms. And though nothing shows on his stony face, his heart whirrs like an overheating engine for the rest of your walk. He doesn’t let go until the iron palace comes back into view.

“We should stop,” he pants between fervent kisses, “before this gets out of hand.” You nip at his neck. “You’re betrothed to the prince––” you suck on the skin between his collarbones and throat, drawing a low groan from his lips “––and I can never give you a throne.”

You pull back, knees on either side of his waist, and stare down into his eyes. “I don’t want a throne.” Ushijima watches you with rapt attention. Sometimes you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he remembers. Slowly, you repeat his words from lifetimes ago. “I only want your heart.” An unreadable expression crosses his face. “Your devotion.” It’s not recognition. “And your soul.”

It’s conviction.

By now you’ve seen many breathtaking things: entire cities built from ice, the end of the ocean, a Venusian sunrise. None compare to Ushijima Wakatoshi with his pupils blown wide, hair tousled, lips flushed. Red with love.

None compare when he promises, “You have that and more.”

A pause.

“Show me.”

With an effortless flip, Ushijima’s muscled body hovers over yours, olive eyes flashing wildly in your dim chambers.

Amid fast breaths and guttural moans, amid steely olive eyes and parted lips, amid the subatomic space between your bodies, you feel it cloak your skin like armour.

Love.

(The Ibis storm the Qaasuuri castle one month before the wedding. Ushijima fights the invaders valiantly, superhuman modifications undoubtedly being of help. But there’s just too many of them. The last thing he tells you is to run. The world burns when you look over your shoulder, only to see a Ibisian sword drive through his heart.

The Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But they still bleed the same.)

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2018

The oldest you ever witness him live to is thirty-two years old.

It’s the morning of August 13th and you walk into the kitchen to the sight of Ushijima Wakatoshi lifting your daughter up into the sky, spinning her little body around in circles, the pancakes on the stove slowly bronzing to a mouthwatering shade of gold.

“Mommy!” she giggles when she sees you. Leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed, you watch your husband set your daughter back down on the ground with a soft smile on his face.

“Sleep well?” you ask, ruffling her hair. She nods happily and bounces back to the stove. Her latest obsession has been cooking in the kitchen, though you’re not sure when exactly she moved on from “potion-making” in the backyard.

“Morning,” Ushijima murmurs, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Happy birthday, handsome,” you tease, leaning into his chest. As the words leave your mouth, the sunny morning haze cools into desaturated blue. But it’s been thirty-two years, you reason with a hard swallow. Maybe the cycle has broken. Your eyes dart to your daughter’s little figure on the stepping stool, her small hands gripping the spatula flipping a bronzed pancake over to its pale side. How would she…

You steel yourself, though a small fissure can’t help but open in your heart from the force.

She isn’t your first child and she won’t be your last. Time, you’ve learned, likes to play games, likes to set you on the same storyline again and again just to see if another ending will show itself. There will be more tomorrows and more yesterdays. There always is.

But that doesn’t make todays hurt any less.

Ushijima tilts his head to the side, olive eyes peering into yours. “Is everything okay?” He never misses (or missed) anything–– not when the two of you were heisting in Switzerland or revelling in Alexandria like Dionysians, not when you were crammed in the same codebreaking room during World War I or sailed across the Atlantic to your doom in 1912. Not now.

But you’re tired of carrying each bygone lifetime into the next. Willing yourself to forget the fact that you’ve seen him die again and again on August 13th, you put everything into the lie that slips your teeth: “More than okay.”

You choose to cherish the present.

“Order up!” your daughter exclaims, proudly presenting the plate of pancakes to you and Ushijima. “I even made one shaped like a heart for Dad for his birthday!”

With a grin, you come closer to inspect the heart-shaped pancake. “Excellent work, sous chef!” you compliment, tapping her nose lightly. It’s sharp like her father’s. She, however, inherited your eyes. You turn around to face your husband. “What does Head Chef Ushijima think?”

Smiling softly, he takes the plate from her hands and, without a second look, says, “It’s perfect. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Breakfast passes in a blur of laughter and honey.

(You think you have gone through another August 13th unscathed when night falls and all of your friends exit through the cherry wood doors of one of Tokyo’s finest restaurants. On the car ride home, however, your white SUV swerves to avoid a deer in the road and flips once, twice, three times.

You wake up neither a mother nor a wife.)

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020

A subtle sigh of relief exits your lungs when Ushijima Wakatoshi enters through the front door at 12:01 AM, red Team Japan suitcase in hand. He’s back from the airport. More importantly, he’s alive.

“Did I make it?” he asks with an upturned corner of his mouth. His olive eyes are half-closed from the exhausting transatlantic flight and his muscles are still a bit sore from how vigorously he played the game against Argentina (Oikawa’s team, for god’s sake)... but he’s here.

And he can’t be any happier.

You know that he’s talking about the time, probably hoping to joke that coming home to you is the best birthday present he can imagine. In that regard, he technically hasn’t made it.

And yet, you leap into his arms and press kisses all over his face as you repeat “yes” again

and again

and again.

[anne-with-an-evangelion]

When it comes to talking about DBH characters who get character growth/a redemption arc, Hank is the obvious person to bring up, and there’s the obvious fandom fixation on Gavin, but what about Adam Chapman? He has an arc in the game that sort of disappears in the fray when compared to other characters but he has the literal journey that everyone wants Gavin to have. But even in comparison to others I feel like Adam completely stands on his own as a good character with so much potential as far as his past, future and motivations.

When Kara, Luther and Alice first show up at Rose’s house, Adam is outside chopping wood and literally turns them away, saying his mom isn’t just too busy to talk to them - she doesn’t WANT to. Of course this isn’t the case and Rose invites everyone inside. And Adam is PISSED.

Also he’s wearing a shirt that says Average Casual Guy which is so funny

Adam is young, probably around twenty, he doesn’t seem to be away at college or anything, rather Rose says they just farm their own food to sell at the market and that’s how they scrape by. Sounds stressful, especially with a bunch of Androids living in their house. It’s obvious Adam doesn’t want them around and definitely doesn’t want any new deviants showing up, after the call for revolution that occurred with Markus’s Stratford Tower speech.

As the scene goes on, you get more information about the Chapman’s and the things they’ve been through. Rose is obviously an incredibly strong and compassionate person to be helping the Androids to this extent, but there’s no denying it’s putting her and Adam in danger. When Kara walks in on their right in the kitchen, Adam is telling Rose they need to stop getting involved, that it’s not safe, and he’s not going to back down about this issue anymore.

His outburst over this is pretty understandable, in the context of the game - even when Kara first shows up asking for Rose, Adam’s first question is, “What do you want with her?” Which I feel like isn’t just about whether Kara is an Android or not, but whether she’s someone there to bust them for having Androids in the house. And of course he’s right, because the cops come by like five minutes later to search the house. They are putting themselves in danger, and even though they’re doing the right thing, it must still be a strain on their family... and it’s clear they’ve fought about this many, many times.

So, yeah, his rejection of his mother’s desire to help the Androids comes from a place of fear for their safety, which is understandable to an extent. But he isn’t just afraid of deviants and doesn’t want to help them - he really seems to hate them, which shouldn’t be an understandable view to hold within the context of the game and the allegory of the Civil Rights Movement, and then the language he uses is like, yikes...

It’s not, I understand they’re in trouble but I’m upset you’re putting us in danger, it’s something else - and of course Adam is really mad, and maybe saying something he doesn’t necessarily mean, but this does seem to reflect his view of the Androids as a whole. At this time, Adam honestly doesn’t see them as being people, which probably makes it even harder for him to understand why Rose goes so far out of her way to help them.

I mean, she sets up trips across the river which have been obviously successful, she drives them to Jericho, she has some kind of contact with or understanding of the revolution leaders because she’s able to direct Kara on where to go, and though not much is explained, her brother (and Adam’s uncle) is obviously totally cool with Androids because he’s willing to help them too. She’s clearly been doing this for a while, or at least is proactive enough to take action and do whatever she has to. She’s even willing to take care of Alice once they get across the border. Literally the hero of DBH but I digress. Adam doesn’t think Androids are worthy of the rights they’re asking for, especially when compared to humans.

What follows this is one of the most intriguing lines in the scene (to me)

What does this mean?? We know his father passed away, and Rose says that ever since then, Adam just boils over sometimes. Maybe it happened suddenly, an accident possibly - or did he get sick? Were Androids involved somehow, like what happened with Cole? What was Rose’s husband’s opinion on Androids? Things have changed since he passed, for sure, but still. Did he hold that same “Androids aren’t alive” opinion that Adam is now expressing? Or is it just that Adam thinks if his dad were still here, he’d be able to solve this issue somehow? Maybe his dad was a politician who ran on pro-Android laws and after he died Adam has become disillusioned with his parents’ worldview ??? Maybe his father died helping Androids too and that’s why Adam rejects them so much. Or maybe his dad hated Androids so much he would have never allowed Rose to help them, and so they wouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place, in Adam’s mind. (Edited to say that apparently it’s canon that Adam’s father died of cancer though I can’t recall it specifically being said in the game, so that is definitely a sad addition to things☹️)

I’m literally just making shit up lol but I really do personally hesitate to give Adam some kind of super traumatic backstory or make him bigoted against Androids because the Black characters are already treated poorly enough in the game when it comes to those things. I’m inclined to think this is just a general outburst of missing his dad and wanting him to be there to ‘fix’ things or at least, maybe, mediate the conversation between Adam and Rose. Idk, it’s cool to speculate on, especially when other characters are given super deep dives into their literally nonexistent canon backstory, it definitely feels like there’s so much that’s unsaid here.

Obviously there’s a couple of different ways the gameplay can go after this - but one other thing I wanted to bring up was what happens if you end up with Kara at the border crossing and run into Rose and Adam there. After talking to Rose in the bathroom and making a plan to all go to her brother’s house, Kara talks to Adam outside-

He says he doesn’t agree with Markus’s methods (which is like.. ok.. a whole other conversation in itself)(EDIT: so apparently the answer is different if you choose the ‘pacifist’ route for Markus- Adam says that ‘seeing what Markus is doing made me realize you’re alive’ !!! Which is cool that it changes and def reflects something different about his character than if his response is always the same!) So anyway he now believes in Androids’ right to freedom and happiness. What made this come about?? Was it after interacting with Alice and Kara and Luther?? I have a theory that Rose knew Alice was an Android as soon as they showed up but just played along - maybe when Adam realized there were Android children mixed up in this too, he began to change his view on things, maybe see himself in them, or see things through his father’s eyes, wanting to protect his family and child. Maybe that’s the lens through which Adam begins to see it. It could be the peaceful pacifist revolution Markus is leading, if he is- but even if not, Adam still changes his mind.

Or, maybe after everything that’s happened, he just realizes he was being kind of an asshole about the whole thing and when it came down to it, a government that was literally going door to door searching for Androids and the people who might help them? That’s probably not the type of place Adam wants to live in. It’s definitely interesting to think about his motivations and what brought him to this point.

And even though it’s sad for Kara and Luther, I find the ending where Alice ends up with the Chapman’s really.. bittersweet-ly satisfying in a narrative way. Found family .... though of course it sounds like they were all planning on meeting at Rose’s brother’s house so they would have all been together anyway☹️

🥲I feel like I had so much more to say but yeah!! I think he’s such a cool interesting character and I love that he ends up on the side of the Androids in the end. And what happens after they escape safely??? Does he start helping deviants too like Rose does? Are they going to settle down and form a commune of sorts with the other Androids who escaped? I love the idea of that loss in Adam’s life being filled up with the addition of new people who care about him, and a little sister in Alice, since he seems to be an only child. The possibilities of it all...

Adam has a sad sort of story to his past, he dislikes Androids and then comes around, he has so much potential for what happens after the revolution - and he’s not the only one!!! There are so many characters in the game that deserve a closer look but I just love Adam..

[c-is-for-circinate]

So as close as I am to fully escaping Hades for the first time, I figure I might take this opportunity to write down a couple of things I'm scared of from this ending. The story is so good so far! But I have seen good stories before! And there are patterns, right, patterns it's so easy for even good stories to fall into, so yeah, I have fears, and they mostly come down to Hades himself.

(Yep, this one got long again! People seem to be enjoying my game-reaction rambles, so, for your enjoyment under the cut: themes of separation and reunion, predictions for what Zagreus is the god of, and a whole lot of discussion of familial abuse dynamics, how they're depicted in fiction, and the work it takes to change them in real life. Stay warned! Stay safe!)

(ALSO, I still haven't made it past the first couple of chambers in the Temple of Styx, so no spoilers in the reblogs/comments please! Yes, even though the whole post is me going on about predictions and hopes and concerns about the path the story might take. I WILL GET THERE SOON.)

It has been really interesting watching some of the stuff the game is doing with themes of parting and reunion, and how that corresponds to life and death. So many of our social links are about reuniting estranged loved ones: Chaos and Nyx, Eurydice and Orpheus, Patroclus and Achilles. Hades is estranged from Olympus, Persephone left. And every time we leave, or try to leave, it is both an attempt at a parting (and Meg and Than are so hurt by that goodbye, or lack thereof) and an attempt at a reunion with our mother. Every time we die it's a reunion, every time we die it's fun, it's great, we get to go back home and check in with all of our friends and be impressed by whoever made Employee Of The [Timeperiod] and sell fish to the cook and put down yet more rugs. (My Zagreus has something of a rug addiction. What can you do.)

It's at the point where I feel pretty secure in stating that Zagreus is going to discover eventually that he is both life/death/rebirth god, and god of partings and reunions. Both halves of both of those things. People leave each other when they die and re-find their loved ones in death; you go away from one group of people to come back to another; you have to depart to return, and I really think that's where we're going to end up with Zagreus. He's going to reunite his various friends with their loved ones, he's probably going to restore communications between Hades and Olympus and even Persephone, he's going to reunite with his mom, and he's going to come back to the Underworld before he leaves to see everyone up top all over again. And of course the vehicle for all of this coming and going is death, because death is the ultimate departure and reuniter. (This is absolutely a religious concept containing a whole bunch of "oh hey our culture has a lot of Christian influence, doesn't it", Greek trappings aside, but that's fine, it's a game made in 2018 not 300 BC, these things happen. They keep calling the Underworld 'hell' and 'infernal'. It's all good.) Of course he's a cthonic god. Of course he bleeds, because you have to bleed in order to die, and Zagreus has to die again and again and again. That's his whole thing.

Thing is, though, looking at those themes, I am also continually aware of the fact that some partings are for a really good reason. Some partings should not end in reunion.

Yes, of course this is about Hades the abusive dad. I have been talking about Hades the abusive dad basically non-stop since I started playing this game, where did you think this post was going.

There are a few things I'm nervous about, separate but related, and at the core it all comes down to, I'm not okay with it if we learn why Hades got to be this way, and Zagreus forgives him as we-the-audience are meant to do, and Hades promises to do better, and nothing concrete about the situation is forced to change. Actual, meaningful, practical, logistical, non-hypothetical non-metaphorical change, not just for Zagreus but for Hades himself.

Because I know how this story tends to go, in fiction. Fictional abusive parents (especially in fantasy/sci-fi stories) tend to come in two types: 'coerced their offspring into actual murder with a side of physical abuse and optional unethical lab experimentation', or 'this was here to create character conflict, we didn't mean for it to read as actually abusive, this parent just has flaws to make them a good character, we swear!' Hades isn't the first type--we have never once seen Hades strike his son, or anybody, or even come out from behind his desk--which means that the fear is, always, always, in every piece of fiction, that he's the second. That the writers are going to decide that the right response to his abuses is remorse, forgiveness, and one really good conversation. That they don't realize it's abuse in the first place.

And, like. They have to know, right? They have to. They can't have done this by accident. (Sometimes, writers get so close by accident.) They can't have done so well at drawing out this situation simply by going, 'well, people are meant to fear this god, so they'd probably react like this, and I guess based on what I've seen in other stories or vague acquaintances they'd then do this,' and never put the name on the situation. Every single time we leave to the tune of a Hades word-flash, he's being dismissive, insulting, and sometimes downright cruel. He is cruel. They have to know!!!

But oh boy have I been consuming media for a lot of years, and oh boy have I run into a lot of writers who don't know.

Reconciliation is such a loaded word, but stories about dysfunctional families really do love it. Stories based around themes of reunion are primed for it. And of course, it's nice, it ties a happy ending off with a sweet little bow, everyone gets to be with the people they love and the family is safe and nobody gets hurt, but so rarely have I seen stories that show the actual work required to rebuild those relationships in a realistic or meaningful way. So rarely do stories trying to build that happy ending actually let the victim of abuse set and maintain boundaries. The character never gets to actually just cut the damn ties to the thing that hurt them. The character so rarely even gets to be safe.

And it's so hard in this game specifically, because "THERE IS NO ESCAPE", because every single thing about this game says that the story's not over when Zagreus gets to the surface, that no matter what he's going to have to come back. It's so hard, because this is a game about reunions. I am not going to get an ending where the abused kid trying to flee his toxic home and abusive dad actually gets to leave and stay gone, not in this one. And that hurts (I have watched and supported and done my best to help multiple real-life friends get the fuck out of homes like that, and stay gone, I have seen how hard it is, how complicated, how awful, and there are never stories for that), but I can live with it, if I get an ending where Zagreus is at least safe. Where things change. Where they really change.

Which is why I need actual, concrete, material changes in the logistics and power structure of the Underworld for this ending to be okay. Understanding why Hades is Like That doesn't cut it. Remorse doesn't cut it! Because look, even if Hades wants to do better, even if he admits he's at fault and tries to be better, he is still set up in a position as an all-powerful tyrant, and trying to become a better person is hard. There is nobody around who can keep him in check when he starts backsliding, which he will. Even if he doesn't want to, he will.

Because people are people, and it's really difficult to break patterns! Especially if everything around them stays the same. Hades is going to slip at some point, be cruel, be callous, be tyrannical, no matter how much of an effort he's making. Not to mention, it is STRESSFUL to face your own crimes and improve, it sucks, it feels bad. And what do habitual abusers do when they feel bad? What's the only coping mechanism Hades appears to have established for dealing with his own shit? That's right, it's inflicting suffering on everyone else around him. (This is why it doesn't really matter what circumstances drove Hades to act this way, why it can't matter--I believe that he is suffering, but he copes with that suffering by inflicting additional suffering on everyone around him, everyone who relies on him, and that's still true no matter what made him feel bad to begin with.) So then we just get a great old guilt-->lashing out-->more guilt-->more lashing out merry-go-round of abuse even as Hades is trying to change. That's how these things work. And yes, change is possible, improvement is absolutely possible, but the environment needs to change first. The system that enables and rewards Hades for acting this way can't stay in place. Things need to actually change, with people who are around to support Hades in his growth and also check his power, people who have power of their own to stop him. And however it happens, for this story with this protagonist with these goals to feel like a happy ending, Zagreus needs to be safe.

It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if those changes were mostly based in magic and fate and, idk, divine mind-control. (This story has been so grounded in actual human dynamics that a fantastical solution to a realistic problem would feel like a letdown, but if it actually solved the problem I'd be okay with it, more or less.) It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if the responsibility for bringing Hades to heel fell upon Zagreus and Persephone, if the two family members who he hurt badly enough that they felt the need to run away from him entirely now had to shoulder the burden of helping him fix himself. (There are definitely ways to write that dynamic better and ways to write it worse, and I think I trust these writers to land on the 'better' side of the scale, but I still don't love the implications.) I think I'd be pretty into it if Hades took a vacation off to Olympus to Work Out His Shit with his own family, while a coalition of Meg, Nyx, Thanatos, Zagreus, and Queen Persephone took over running the Underworld in his absence. I think we might end up getting some combination of those things. I'm hopeful. I think these writers might know what they've written. I think they might have a sense for what it'll take to fix.

But yeah, I'm nervous. (Nervous enough that I might switch to God Mode just to get through, combat has started getting really tedious instead of fun, I want to know what happens next, and this is a game and there is no shame in making it more fun for myself by making the boring parts a little quicker and easier.) I've seen so many stories go wrong. This one has done so much to earn my trust. We'll see if it breaks.

[jenstar1992-2]

Heaven

Pairing: Echo X Reader

Warnings: Some language, insinuations of sexual activities (I don’t know if that’s the right wording necessarily, but there it is), mentions of nightmares, loss, and grieving.

Word Count: 3,836

A/N: So, I'm not sure what all devices in the Star Wars universe are called, and in order to not sound completely inept, I decided to just describe the devices' functions instead of naming them and seeing as I've never come across some of these types of devices in Star Wars, I figured this was the best way to go. I hope that makes sense. Also, I have added a lyric video below for reference. I was initially going to just link an already existing lyric video for the song, but then I just decided to make one instead, using some visuals that better fit the content. Which then meant I had to create a Youtube channel just to upload the thing and link it here, because it wouldn’t let me upload directly from my laptop. 🤷🏼‍♀️ So that's there if anyone wants it, and I now have a Youtube channel for my longer edits. 

It was one of those nice, quiet evenings, the kind you didn't get very often ever since you started working with The Bad Batch. They weren't necessarily the rowdiest bunch of clones you'd met, but they did seem to always find a way to interrupt you and your boyfriend's alone time.

It seemed like every time you and Echo found a quiet moment where it was just the two of you, one, if not the whole lot, of them would come barging in out of nowhere, needing something or another. Although, you were pretty sure Wrecker just did it because he thought it was funny to annoy you, and knowing that fact only annoyed you more, but you'd let it slide, always reassuring yourself that there would be a next time, one that wouldn't be intruded upon. It seemed that tonight was one of those times, seeing as the four commandos were off gathering supplies at the nearby village of the planet you were temporarily taking residence on, and you were planning on making the most of it while you could.

It didn't take you long to locate your boyfriend, despite your first impressions the Havoc Marauder was not that big of a craft, so there were only so many places he could be. You found him in the communal sleeping quarters, sitting on the bunk you two shared, datapad in hand reading something or another, as usual. You had been given your own bunk, but after your first week with the group, you realized that you preferred to just sleep together. You both had a little trouble sleeping and found that sleeping in one another's embrace seemed to keep the nightmares at bay and gave you both a much more restful sleep.

You walked over and sat beside him, sliding your arms around his middle and holding him as you rested your head on his shoulder. He chuckled and wrapped the nearest arm around you, keeping you close as he continued to read.

You smiled and let out a contented sigh. Moments like this were rare alright, which is what made you appreciate them more when they did occur. It was just nice to be able to have a sweet moment with your love without a joke being made, or the always popular, "Get a room" comment.

"Would love to", you'd say, "Only problem is, it just so happens to be everyone's room."

"Damn, doesn't that bite the big one", would come Crosshair's snide remark, as he shook his head, mocking you like the snarky ass he was.

It was a good thing that deep down you really did like these guys, or you would've kicked some asses long ago.

You reveled in this quiet moment for a while longer before peeking at the datapad in his hand and asking, "So, what are you reading this time, anything interesting, or just more boring rule books?"

He laughed and shook his head. "You know, I don't just read reg manuals", he responded, turning his head to give you a smirk.

You shrugged. "I know, but you definitely read them a lot more than anyone else I know. I'm not even sure if some of the boys have ever read them actually."

He laughed again and you smiled at the sound. "Well, I'd like to think I've been branching out more lately with my literary escapades. I'm at least trying to be more fun, wouldn't want your book worm of a boyfriend boring you to death", he said, leaning into you with a light shove before straightening up again.

You chuckled and held him a bit tighter. "Yeah, you're a book worm alright, but you’re my book worm, and you’re not boring love, far from it", you said as you pulled your head from his shoulder to meet his gaze.

His eyes softened as he looked into yours, silently thanking you for the praise. He leaned his face to yours and kissed you lovingly, and with so much softness it almost hurt when he pulled away.

You just gazed into each other's eyes for a minute before you remembered why you'd come to find him in the first place.

You unwrapped your arms from around him. "Speaking of trying to be more fun, I have something fun we could do", you said with a bright smile.

He eyed you curiously. "Oh yeah, what did you have in mind?"

You rose from the bunk to stand in front of him, grabbing the datapad from his flesh hand and tossing it on the pillow beside him, taking the now empty hand and his cybernetic one in yours and pulling him to his feet.

"You are going to indulge your girlfriend, who's been waiting all day for this mind you, with a dance", you replied, smile still taking over your features.

He cocked an eyebrow, as if your response surprised him. "Huh, definitely not what I thought you were going to say", he said.

"And what did you think I was going to say", you asked with a smirk as you went to your original bunk above your shared one and pulled out a small electronic device, typing away on it, searching for something.

"Well, I, um... I thought, uh...", Echo stammered, as he rubbed the back of his neck, still searching for the right words. He cleared his throat before saying, "Uh, nothing, nothing, so a dance, huh?"

You shook your head and chuckled at his nervous behavior, you knew exactly what he thought you'd meant, but you weren't going to embarrass him any further.

"Yes, a dance", you replied, finding the audio file you'd been searching for and pulling it up. You then connected the device to the small amplifying device on the table across the room.

"That sounds nice cyare, but I don't know how to dance", he confessed shyly.

You smiled and looked to him. "Then I'll teach you", you told him, pressing on the file to play it and setting the device back on the bed.

As the soft music filled the room, you walked to your now flustered looking boyfriend, taking him by the hand and then slowly guiding him to take your hips. He didn't hesitate to do so, and as he rested his hands on you, and you placed yours around his neck, a light blush rose on his cheeks. He always got like this when you two did anything even remotely intimate. It baffled you that after this long of being together, and after doing much more than this, that he'd be this worked up over, what you saw as, a simple act. But maybe it wasn't so simple to him, maybe the years of touch deprivation had him craving it more than you realized, and add the emotion behind the action, the love you felt transferring between the two of you in something as small as a glance, and you could understand his reaction. This realization had you thanking whatever powers at be for bringing you two together, allowing you to be that person for him, because it was truly a gift, one you wouldn't take for granted.

You began to slowly sway your body from side to side, coaxing him to follow your movements. As you both found the right pace and swayed in time to the song's slow rhythm, you listened to the words being sung and let your mind wander, the words bringing memories to the surface of your consciousness.

Oh, thinkin' about our younger years,

There was only you and me,

We were young and wild and free.

You remembered when you'd first met Echo, back when he was a new addition to the 501st. A young trooper, who's dream was to one day receive ARC statues. You had become fast friends, and after only a few months it was clear that your friendship had grown into something more. It was obvious you two had feelings for each other, the only people who were blind to this were you and Echo. A problem that was soon remedied by his brother, Fives, who had all but forced Echo to admit how he felt to you, which he did, albeit, with quite a bit of struggle on his part, the poor guy could barely get his words out. Luckily, you had caught on to what he was trying to say, and took pity on him, deciding to take this opportunity to tell him that you felt the same.

You still remember the look of surprise on his face at your confession, he hadn't believed it at first, but when you plucked up the courage to grab him by the chest plate and pull him into a tender kiss, he knew you weren't lying, and this had his heart soaring.

Now nothing can take you away from me.

We've been down that road before,

But that's over now.

You keep me comin' back for more.

After the battle to defend Kamino, Echo had finally gotten what he'd been working so hard to achieve, he had been promoted to ARC Trooper, and you couldn't have been happier for him. You remember him coming into your station of the hangar to tell you the good news.

You'd been working on fixing up some loose wiring on a transport ship when you were suddenly lifted from the ground and the world spun around you. After a moment of disorientation, you found your bearings and stared up at the culprit, only to find your boyfriend beaming down at you.

"Woah, where's the fire", you asked in jest.

"No fire, just have some good news", he responded, still smiling wide.

"Oh, ok then, spill."

"We did it", he said simply.

"Umm, ok, who did what exactly", you asked, furrowing your brows in confusion.

"Fives and I, we're being made ARC Troopers", he said, his chest puffing out a bit with pride.

"What, that's great", you practically shouted, and pulled him into a tight embrace. "I knew you could do it; you've worked so hard, you deserve this. I'm so happy for you, you're finally getting your dream."

He squeezed you tighter. "Thank you, and thank you for always believing in me, even when I didn't", he said quietly.

You pulled back to look at him before speaking. "I'll always believe in you Echo. Always and forever."

That was your thing, the mantra of your relationship, if you will, "I'll love you always and forever". This was because you both believed it to be true. Neither one of you could see yourselves falling for anyone else or loving another the way you did each other.

“Always and forever cyare”, he said, smiling softly at you, “And now I can focus on my other dream.”

You gave him confused look. “Other dream, what’s your other dream”, you asked.

His smile grew as he leaned in to speak low in your ear. “You”, he said, making your stomach do a somersault.

You knew it would be difficult, but you two wanted to plan a future together, and spend whatever time you had left together making a family and living a quiet, happy life. Once this miserable war was over, that's exactly what you were going to do.

Unfortunately, things don't always work out the way we want them to, and your dreams of a peaceful life with your beloved were shattered when the day came that the 501st returned from their mission on Lola Sayu, minus an ARC Trooper.

Oh, once in your life you'll find someone,

Who will turn your world around,

Pick you up when you're feelin' down.

Now nothing can change what you mean to me.

There's a lot that I could say,

But just hold me now.

Fives had been the one to give you the dreadful news and had stayed to help you through the initial shock and pain of it all. He had been ready for the inevitable tears he knew would come and did they ever. You couldn't remember a time before that, where you had cried with as much vigor or to the extent that you had, when shedding tears for your lost love.

I've been waiting for so long,

For somethin' to arrive,

For love to come along.

Time seemed to pass by agonizingly slow, as you tried to regain some semblance of normalcy in your life. Having both lost the person you held dear, you and Fives had found a new understanding for one another, and subsequently formed a close bond. He was the friend you desperately needed, just as you were for him. So, when you eventually lost him as well, you were beside yourself with grief.

Instead of wallowing in your sorrow, like you wanted to, you decided to throw yourself into your work, trying desperately to keep yourself busy, so as to not give yourself time to think of what you had lost. This worked most of the time, but there were always those times when something would remind you of them, a laugh that was just too close to the one you remembered, or a smile from a kind trooper that hit too close to home. Then there were those nights where you would wake from a nightmare and reach out beside you for a comforting hand, only to find empty space, those times were the hardest. It took everything you had inside you to just keep on going, because you knew that they wouldn't have wanted you to give up, so you carried on, even when it hurt.

Now our dreams are comin' true,

Through the good times and the bad,

I'll be standin' there by you.

It had been a year since the mission on Lola Sayu, a year of you trying to get on with your life, and forget the past, because remembering only caused you more pain. But life has a funny, if not sadistic, way of turning on its head and changing your course when you least expect it, because soon after that year mark, you received the news you never thought you'd get.

"He's alive", Rex said, eyes boring into yours, trying to get you to believe what he was telling you, but you weren't about to give in that easily.

"What you're saying is impossible, both you and Fives told me you saw him die at the citadel, and now you're telling me he miraculously survived. I'm not buying it, and I don't appreciate you trying to get my hopes up, just so they can be ripped back down once you're proven wrong", you said, with more venom in your voice than you had intended.

"I know I'm right on this one, (Y/N). I heard him, it was Echo's voice on that transmission, I'm sure of it", he reiterated, desperate for you to listen, or to at least consider it to be true.

"I'm sorry Rex, but I just can't believe what you're saying. I can't take another blow, I just can't, because if I do, I fear I won't make it out the other side this time" you said as tears began to fill your eyes.

Rex placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I understand, but I promise you, I'm telling the truth, Echo is alive, and I'm going to bring him home, I'm going to bring him back to you", he said, with so much conviction that you almost believed him, almost.

"Don't make promises you can't keep", you told him despondently.

He looked you in the eye, a determined expression on his face. "I intend to keep this one", he said, and he did.

No more than two days later, the team sent on the rescue mission to Skako Minor returned, with Echo.

You couldn't believe your eyes when Rex took you to see him in the med bay. He was different, that was for sure, but he was still Echo, he was still the man you loved, and you were just glad he was home.

And Baby you're all that I want,

When you're lying here in my arms,

I'm finding it hard to believe,

We're in heaven.

During his first mission, after being back, he had proven to still be the loyal soldier he had always been and had unofficially been dubbed the "Hero of Anaxes" for his brave actions.

After this mission he had also been extended the invitation to join The Bad Batch by their sergeant, which he wanted to accept, but not if it meant leaving you behind. So, Echo convinced the commandos that having a mechanic around wouldn't be such a bad idea, and they agreed.

That's how you ended up here, the mechanic onboard the Havoc Marauder, who was currently being held in the arms of the person she loved most in this galaxy, swaying to the soft music filling the air around them, in total bliss.

Love is all that I need,

And I found it there in your heart.

It isn't too hard to see,

We're in heaven.

Your head had been resting against Echo's chest, as you listened to the steady heartbeat beneath it. You never wanted this moment to end, and by the way he was holding you, without any indication of ever letting go, you were pretty sure he felt the same.

You lifted your head to look up at him, while keeping yourself flush against him, needing the contact to silently remind yourself that he was still here, he was with you. Something you still had a hard time believing from time to time, but it was real, he was here, and you were never letting go.

It had been some time since Anaxes, not a tremendous amount, but enough time where you could see a noticeable change in your boyfriend's appearance. He had filled out more and looked a lot less gaunt than he had initially upon his return. His color had improved as well, not fully, but with enough time, you were sure, he'd regain his copper glow. His hair was the other noticeable change, it had started to grow out again, and while it hadn't gotten to the length it was, there was enough where you could easily run your fingers through it, as you often did, absentmindedly.

This thought caused your hand to move of its own accord and slot itself amongst the short curls adorning his head. He gave a contented sigh as you started mindlessly running your fingers over his scalp, scratching lightly, and he leaned into your touch as his eyes closed, this always relaxed him.

After a moment, he opened his eyes to look at you, a soft smile taking shape over his features, before lowering his head to rest it against yours, both of you shutting your eyes to revel in the moment.

We're in heaven.

The music faded and soon the room fell silent. You both ceased your swaying but continued to stay in the embrace.

After what felt like an eternity, but had only been a few seconds, you broke the silence and said, "I love you Echo."

He smiled and replied, "I love you (Y/N). Always and forever."

You gave a smile of your own, the words bringing you back to those early days of your relationship, when anything was possible, and your future was bright. It could be that way again, now that you were together again, nothing was impossible.

"Always and forever", you echoed back.

With that, he closed the small gap between you and brought you into a passionate kiss.

Everything that had gone unspoken was expressed in this kiss; all the love and adoration that had built between you two over the years, all the pain that you both endured during your separation, all the missed time, and the promise that you would never be parted again, and that you would continue to strive for the future you two had planned so long ago. You were happier than you'd ever been and nothing could ruin this moment.

Suddenly, as if the universe itself wanted to prove you wrong, the door slid open and in walked all four commandos, with Wrecker in the lead.

"See, I told ya we'd find them doin' some sappy stuff", Wrecker said in his booming voice, effectively breaking your quiet moment, and your kiss, which in turn, pissed you off.

You both gave an annoyed sigh before turning to face the men. You crossed your arms over your chest and gave your best scowl in their direction, which only caused Wrecker to laugh. He'd so be getting an ass kicking later.

"Let's just be glad we didn't walk in on something... more intimate", Crosshair said, eyeing the both of you while giving a sly grin.

You let out an annoyed huff. "Yeah, you wish", you retorted, which only earned you a chuckle from the sniper. Okay, add another one to the "people who need an ass kicking" list. "I think you're both just jealous", you said, trying to make it sound snarky.

"Of this guy", Wrecker asked as he walked over, clapping his hand down on Echo's shoulder. "Damn straight, I mean, he’s got a bombshell for a girlfriend, how could we not be, he's one lucky bastard", he said, although you couldn't quite tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Either way it ticked you off, but before you could throw the punch you had geared up for, Echo pulled you to him, holding you securely against him and effectively blocking your way to the giant commando.

"Easy cyare, no need for bloodshed, and besides, he has a point", he said, leaning in and lowering his voice, "I am a very lucky man."

You shook your head at him but couldn't help the grin that formed at his words.

"Okay, that's enough boys, let's give the happy couple some privacy shall we. Besides, Wrecker, it's your turn to make dinner", Hunter interrupted, giving his brother a stern look.

"Oh man, again, I thought I just did that", Wrecker grumbled.

"You did, when it was your turn last week", Tech told him matter-of-factly.

Wrecker made a noise of aggravation before leaving the room, mumbling incoherently in displeasure. The other two followed him out, as you gave Hunter a thankful smile before he nodded and made his exit, letting the door slide shut behind him.

You turned back to Echo, who still had you in his embrace.

"So, where were we", you inquired, a soft smile back on your face.

He feigned ponderment. "Hmm, I believe we were right about...", he began, and suddenly pulled you close enough that your noses were touching, "Here", he finished, his smile widening before bringing you in for another heated kiss. You melted into it and fell into another state of bliss.

You stayed like that for another long moment, as the world faded around you. Wrapped in a loving embrace, engaged in an impassioned kiss, and lost in your own personal heaven.