#but it's still less of a cop-out than sword at least | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marquisegallery · 1 year ago

Text

I FINALLY managed to finish the Devil theory pics!! Just barely before the end of the week like I hoped I would ;u;

And so, finally, my very rambly set of headcanons for these gremlins. They're my gremlins now I guess, I have hyperfixated too much lol

(This is going to be long. Incredibly long. And very headcanon-y because these guys don't exactly have a lot going for them in canon anyways. I'm warning you now. :u )

There are some of these borrowed from/inspired by @mechanical-magician's excellent Devil Theory and other BRC headcanons, I will point them out when they come up! :>

Starting off with Devil Theory in general:

The crew name is something all four of them came up with to sound threatening yet badass. With their reputation, it works well!

Their aliases come from the types of weapons most commonly associated with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (for the most part). Daishō is named as such because naming him “Katana” probably would have made the connection too obvious.

He was originally going to have them named after famous Japanese swords/swordsmiths (since it would probably fit the samurai-theming of their costumes better), but decided on the TMNT weapon names because he thinks they flow together better anyways. And secretly, he named each of them after the weapon of the TMNT member they're most similar to.

Plus, he finds it amusing to see other people’s reactions when they find out, lol

The other members themselves did not even realize the themeing until much, much later. Sai and Bō were annoyed by it (Nunchaku still thinks it's hilarious), but by then they were all so used to their aliases that they didn't want to bother coming up with new ones. :P

I personally like to think the gravelly voices they have in game is a sort of "character voice" they do to sound more threatening most of the time.

The only person they genuinely respected before the events of the game was DJ Cyber, though they wouldn’t admit it publicly. Also it’s mostly due to the fact that he can kick (and has kicked) all four of their asses in a 4-against-1 fight. In game, it’s mentioned they were kicked out of Mataan, and in a way I like to think they were quite literally kicked out of Mataan by DJ Cyber himself.

After the game, they do have some respect for BRC overall too. But kind of begrudgingly, and mostly because BRC managed to beat Faux and save the whole city.

On that note! Before and during the game's main plot, they just liked to be heels/assholes for the hell of it (not exactly true, but it's what they tell people if asked). It wasn't until get backstabbed (and almost killed) by Faux as Project Algo did they start reconsidering that, hey, maybe they can afford to be a little less assholish. Sucks that it took that much for them to change, but hey, better than nothing I guess??

So they did manage a sort of Heel-Face Turn… but mostly in that they stop pushing the Code of the Street to the limit, and of course they’ve stopped ratting out rival crews to the cops. They still have their own "heel personas” while in costume though, and still continue their activities as writers. Also occasionally still physically fighting other writers anyways, but its fine, probably!

None of them expect the other crews to forgive them for what happened (especially, y'know, the snitching thing), and indeed no one offers any sort of forgiveness. The feelings from most of the other crews and writers towards Devil Theory ranges from "Well, at least you got what you deserved and learned your lesson. You better make good on your promise to be good or else, alright?" to "I don't fucking trust you and I'm gonna keep an eye on you assholes."

Devil Theory have enough grace to accept this judgement, because hey, it's understandable. And on a more selfish perspective, it's either this or stick to being such unapologetic assholes that they get kicked out of New Amsterdam altogether!

Each of them do feel genuine guilt over the snitching thing and working with Faux behind everyone's backs. Sai was the only one who was opposed to it all in the first place, only being convinced by the others and Faux that it would be "fine". So besides guilt in not pushing back harder, there's also a bit of, "I fuckin' called it that this was a bad idea. I only went along with it because you guys said it'd work out, and look what fuckin' happened!!"

Meanwhile... Daishō is the one who feels the most guilty about what happened, since he's basically the leader, and had convinced the others to go for it. So he feels like it's his fault first and foremost for trying to cheat, as well as for trusting Faux in all of this just because he was one of the Big 3. Not to mention all of his friends nearly dying because of Faux, especially with Sai being the one slammed against the statue in Mataan... If any of them died, Daishō definitely would not be able to live with himself after that. He has not admitted this to anyone and is still personally grappling with that guilt. Nobody knows because he's (unfortunately?) very good at masking these kinds of things...

Sai is the member who ends up leaving DT for BRC, though mostly out of revenge against BRC (and specifically Red) for the crew battle back on Pyramid Island. He gets that out of his system eventually, and sticks with BRC as a genuine member (I have a fan fic idea for this bit of story, hee hee). He's still friends with the remaining DT crew of course, they've all been friends for a long time. (I'll touch on this more in a bit)

So then after the events of the game and Sai joining BRC, as a show of good will, Devil Theory let other writers (and especially DJ Cyber) know how exactly they managed to sic the cops on people: Basically hijacking certain police signals to send in false tips. Because otherwise interacting with the cops directly would have just led to them getting arrested too. (It's something that Faux told them how to do in order to gain their trust and make a "deal")

Everyone thinks it might be at least good as last resort free distraction against the cops. Send in a false tip, something like "Ignore those writers, there's a bigger emergency that is conveniently on the opposite side of the city!!" No one's sure if the cops have the ability to actually trace back the false tips to the source (like what happened with DOT EXE finding out about Project Algo), so writers only use it for emergencies. Still, coincidentally, arrests against writers has gone way down after this!

This also leads to a new addition to the Code of the Street: Any writer found to be abusing the false tips in order to get another writer/crew arrested, will be ratted out to the cops themselves. An eye for an eye! DJ Cyber was considering doing this to Devil Theory as well, but figured them getting pummeled by Faux towards the end of the game was punishment enough.

This one comes from a Mech headcanon: Devil Theory has their own hideout in the shipping container maze on Pyramid Island. The confusing (and frankly rather unnerving) nature of that area means their hideout can stay secure from anyone who doesn’t know how to get there.

My personal addition to this: There are different routes to the hideout based on whether or not it’s Tuesday, raining, a bank holiday, or any combination of those factors. Also, the crew (and even the dock workers of Pyramid Island in general) have not ruled out the possibility of there being any sort of Backroom Beasties in the maze. Sometimes you can hear things in there...

Sai is still invited to hang out at their hideout. Anyone else has to have approval from him and the remaining DT members before they're allowed to visit.

Also based on a Mech headcanon: They have pet crabs they keep at their hideout. Me personally, I like to think they're specifically hermit crabs! So then the crew paint designs onto any shells brought for the crabs, and will let visitors paint one too.

Back to the topic of all four of them being friends for a long time, more specifically: Sai and Daishō have known each other since very early childhood, and then they became friends with Bō and Nunchaku during middle school (i.e. around ages 12/13). Nunchaku in particular was living in California at the time, so it was an online friendship with the other three, eventually moving to New Amsterdam after turning 18.

They may or may not have started an anime-manga club during their time in school, which is how Sai and Daishō met Bō (and with Nunchaku as an honorary online member). All four of them refuse to admit to it these days, lol

Truthfully, the main reason all four of them have stuck together for so long is because they have had rough childhoods in one way or another, mostly due to their respective parents. This is what lead to the four of them becoming friends and wanting to protect/defend each other (sort of like a found family kind of thing), and thus forming Devil Theory together later on. However, they are more likely to admit to the anime-manga club thing than any of this.

(I might elaborate more on how rough it was for each on them in a separate post. Or just save it for a fan fic, if I can manage it...)

All four of them learned to fight mostly from watching wrestling shows and martial arts movies. “But wrestling is fake, those moves probably wouldn’t actually hurt someone--” “Only if you hold back.”

Both Sai and Bō have face scars. Sai has it over part of his lips, while Bō has a mark on part of his jaw. Both of them got these from injuries while trying to learn how to skate and freerun in order to be writers.

With Bō in particular, he outright passed out when it happened, causing the others to panic. They had to take him to the Flesh Prince to get him fixed up (hospitals would ask too many questions for their liking).

For Sai, the only people who know about how he got his scar are the rest of Devil Theory (and eventually he tells Rise too). To anyone else, he just tells them he got it from fighting 3 walking tanks at once. Rise says he should tell people it was 5 tanks at once to make it sound more impressive!

All four of them have cybernetic lower legs (from looking at the in-game models, it definitely looks more like cybernetics/prosthetics than just armor, at least to me). Long story short, each of them lost a foot or part of a lower leg (sometimes on both legs) for one reason or another. It eventually got to the point where Daishō went, "You know what?? Fuck this, we're clearly cursed, so let's just get this over with." And paid for all of them to just get what's left of their lower legs upgraded to fancy cybernetics, as seen in the game!

This is at least another reason for them becoming writers ("With these legs we could probably manage it pretty good, right?"), and then of course eventually forming Devil Theory.

Some more specifics on the why for each member:

For Sai and Daishō, it was directly caused by their Respective Bad Parents. (Like I mentioned earlier in this post, I may go into further detail on that in a separate post. Especially since it gets pretty dark...)

For Bō, it was an accident out in New Amsterdam. Basically there was a failed test involving one of the police's walking tank, resulting in Bō and other civilians getting injured. Some of them fairly severely, and of course Bō being one of those. None of them (including himself) know what actually caused the accident, not even that it was caused by a walking tank.

For Nunchaku, it was a factory accident. This was back when she first moved to New Amsterdam and needed a job. That led her to having to work at a shady factory with unsafe work conditions, and which was taking advantage of new immigrants like her who don't 100% know their rights or who to go to for help right away. Her accident in particular was one of the worst at the factory up to that point, with several other employees getting hurt as well. They all of course quite after that, including Nunchaku herself.

Sai's incident was the earliest to happen chronologically, while Bō's was the last one.

Daishō and Sai tried dating each other at one point in high school. Emphasis on “tried”. Turned out they were incompatible, at least in terms of sexualities: Sai is bi, but Daishō is straight.

At the least, it wasn’t the worst relationship either of them have had, just awkward once Daishō realized he's straight. So they broke things off and were able to stay friends afterwards.

And now for each individual member! With bonus head pics. :P

Sai

As previously mentioned, he's the member who joins up with Bomb Rush Cyberfunk in the postgame.

Also as previous mentioned, he at first only joined BRC for revenge against Red, but they sort it out after a while!

Has some anger issues, but since joining BRC (especially after a final serious fight with Red) he’s gotten a much better handle on it.

Eventually after that previous point, he starts dating Rise, there is a whole outline for this I swear…

He and Red still fight each other, but it's more like sparring matches. The rest of BRC end up treating it like actual sport matches, basically cheering on one or the other! Cueball and Bel even act as commentators for these matches, lol

He is fairly stand-offish most of the time, and takes some time to open up to other people.

He can cook, as in cooking without necessarily following a strict recipe. He cooks a lot for his former crew, though it takes him a while to open up and cook for BRC as well. You will not be disappointed if you invite him to a potluck!

He can sing quite well, but he hates singing in front of others, even his own friends (they've only ever heard him by accident when he didn't mean for them to hear him at all). He eventually opens up to singing for Rise at least.

I have a personal headcanon that DJ Cyber will occasionally take suggestions for mixtapes he's working on. Sai suggested several reggaeton songs/remixes, though he expected none of them to be picked. He was super stoked when he found out the DJ actually included one of his suggestions (the AGUA remix) in the particular mixtape that plays on Pyramid Island.

Works as a freelance graphic designer/artist as his day job. He takes commissions on the side. No, he does not take requests and will not draw your OC for free.

He is the one who designed Devil Theory's graffiti in canon, Daishō paid him for it too!

He's Puerto Rican, he moved to New Amsterdam as a kid.

Fluent in Spanish, he has a noticeable Puerto Rican accent when speaking Spanish.

Daishō

He is the leader of Devil Theory!

He let Sai leave the group to join BRC because he started getting sick of Sai’s anger issues (it had been growing worse until the BRC crew battle, at which point said issues were at their worst).

Once Sai gets a better handle on his anger, they go back to being friends, even with Sai staying with BRC.

Fairly chill guy (though also arrogant and snarky at times) out of costume.

While in public as the Devil Theory leader, he can be ruthless (as seen by how the group pushes the Code of the Street to the limit). He can also be dramatic sometimes, almost playing it up like an anime villain/wrestling heel at times. At least he’s smart enough to not let himself get distracted by monologuing.

Though if you genuinely piss him off, he can be incredibly petty and cruel, regardless of him being “in costume” or not.

Daishō wears contacts while in costume, but just normal glasses outside of that

He’s the one who designed Devil Theory’s costumes. He has experience with cosplay before forming DT. Heck, he's still into cosplay, specifically crossplay (i.e. crossdressing and cosplay at the same time).

He’s also the one that came up with their Hip-Hop dance. He’s particularly proud of the “criss-cross hop” part of the dance, but this was also the part that the other members had a hard time getting right. (I say this as someone who has attempted doing the dance IRL myself, and also had problems with that part :P)

On that note, he's a pretty good dancer in general, with both freestyle and "formal" dances with specific steps.

He's a straight guy who's not afraid to be feminine! If the point about him enjoying crossplay doesn't already tip you off. Though, to clarify, he's not afraid to look/act feminine outside of crossplay too.

He supposedly has enough money to just live off of for the rest of his life, but he continues to be a writer for the fun of it (and as an outlet/destressor). He does still work part-time though, as a secretary for one of the companies in Mataan.

He's a theater major and part of a group that holds plays in New Amsterdam. He loves to play as the villains, especially in musicals. Villains always get the best songs!! That being said, his actual singing is about 100% confidence and 65% actual talent. Him singing villain songs is already great, but anything else is usually "just" alright.

Big fan of horror movies, mainly slasher/splatter and body horror. Also the kind of guy who goes looking for director's cut versions and deleted scenes. He will ramble for hours about his favorite horror movies, especially about the acting and special effects! Though he will also rant about genuinely awful horror movies just as much. He has opinions!!

Claims to have a girlfriend, but he never names who he’s dating or goes into any specific details about her, and the other DT members have never met her. They have a running joke about her being his “theoretical girlfriend”. (She does actually exist! But she doesn't know Daishō is part of Devil Theory, and she has a secret herself...)

This one gets its own subsection because it's pretty long lol:

Daishō is terrible with names. In general it takes a while for him to learn other people's names, and he tends to mess up by getting close-but-not-quite with names. And with him being the leader of Devil Theory, most people assume he's just being a jerk and making fun of them. :P

Some examples:

Tryce = Tricycle, Trace, Tracy, Trance, Trick

Bel = Bell, Beth, Bev, Ring (like a ringing bell lol)

Vinyl = Vine, Vino, Vinny, VHS

Solace = Soul, Solis, Crash, Test

He doesn't have this problem with people who are basically celebrities to him (DJ Cyber and Felix being two-thirds of The Big 3, and he knows Rise because he follows her on social media). So then otherwise, the only thing that helps is coming up with mnemonics/associations. "Bel's hair kinda looks like a bell", "Vinyl works at a record store", etc.

One of the rare times he managed to remember someone's name easily is Red. Because, y'know, literal red head. :P

And yes, this also applies to his own friends, at least with their real names. He had no trouble with their street names, but only because he was the one who came up with them, lol

He's half-Japanese and half-Peruvian, born and raised in New Amsterdam. Fluent in Spanish and Japanese. He has a Peruvian accent when speaking in Spanish, his mother insisted on teach him herself (and to avoid him potentially ending up with a Spaniard accent, lmaooo).

As mentioned much earlier, he has known Sai since they were kids in elementary school. Basically Sai latched onto him because he was the only other Latino at their school, and Sai was already being alienated by the other kids because of that. They eventually realizing they have a lot in common anyways (like same favorite manga at the time) and became friends.

On that note! He only got into anime and manga in the first place out of spite towards his dad, who basically looked down on it as "everything wrong with my homeland these days". Dad only very begrudgingly got Daishō stuff in the original Japanese, choosing to see it as at least a way for his kid to learn Japanese more easily.

That leads to a more genuine love for anime and manga, and then forming the anime-manga club, becoming friends with Bō and Nunchaku, and of course eventually all four of them forming Devil Theory. Funny how these things work out!

Bō

Rather stoic while in public as a Devil Theory member, but outside of that he tends to be fairly nerdy and polite.

Arguably the way he acts in and out of costume is probably the biggest difference among the rest of the DT members. Which tends to be rather jarring to most people…

The tech person of the group, bit of a hacker too. He was the one who figured out the false tips thing with the police signals, and frankly he finds the police force's security systems to be insulting pathetic a lot of the time.

His day job is as an IT tech, though he often gets forced into doing stuff outside of his job description, especially since his damn coworkers keep pushing their own work onto him. He even has to take care of coding things as a programmer/engineer, which is even more outside of his job description!

Being a writer is basically a destressor for him at this point. Do not ask him to troubleshoot your tech problems when he’s off the clock, he hates that. The rest of DT know this and don’t ask him unless it’s something genuinely serious (and only after they’ve done their own troubleshooting).

He's a gamer, and especially loves games that he can mod himself.

Related to the previous point: he has strong opinions about how the game industry is going these days (Little-to-no official support for preservation of older games, going after emulators when they won’t even help make their games more accessible, awful dev crunch especially from larger companies, etc.). He will rant about it if you let him!

He can't handle horror content very well, be it movies or video games. And I mean genuine horror stuff, especially with gore. Silly scary stuff like Luigi's Mansion is fine, but getting into Silent Hill and Resident Evil is where he starts genuinely freaking out. He'll at least watch his friends playing through survival horror games, not playing it himself, but he'll insist on having all the lights on.

One time the others did manage to drag him through a haunted house attraction. He ended up freaked out badly, and afterwards got into a fistfight with Sai over it (it was his idea to do that in the first place). Lesson learned!

He has attempted at least once to get a piercing like his friends, but he almost fainted while doing so (he might have a fear of needles). He hasn't tried since.

Knows how to fight like the rest of the DT members, but some people may underestimate him because they assume the tech guy isn’t that strong. Also, Bō is admittedly built more for weightlifting than outright fighting like the others. So he's a big guy with body fat and muscles, though some people assume he's just fat. But that doesn't mean he can't kick your ass!

On that note, he hates when people underestimate him in general, or otherwise think he’s naive.

Inspired by Mech's own CUE.mp4 and Pluto: Bō eventually starts dating Cueball (the DOT EXE member who joins BRC in the postgame). Admittedly at first I was like, only lightly considering something similar in my own stuff, like "That'd be cute, but it probably wouldn't work for these two in my AU/headcanons, ha ha" but eventually after more thinking I realized, "Wait a minute, this could work after all." lol

He's gay, would probably be considered a bear maybe, though he doesn't use that label himself (he doesn't hate it or anything, just doesn't want to use it).

His family has lived in New Amsterdam for generations.

Knows enough Spanish to follow along with Sai and Daishō when they have conversations in Spanish, though not necessarily respond to either of them in Spanish (or anyone else for that matter).

Nunchaku

In case her real name in my headcanons didn't already tip you off, Samus Aran surprise!! Nunchaku is a gal named Roxanne! She can pull off a gravely “character voice” like the rest of DT, and even her normal voice is a bit rough/raspy (think kinda like Rainbow Dash, but maybe a lower pitch).

She goes by Rox as a nickname out of costume/with friends.

"Wait so is she cis or trans--" Originally I handled this by saying, "Would Rox herself be comfortable answering that question? I don't think she would want to answer at all, regardless of being cis or trans." BUT, after thinking it over and discussing it with friends, I've decided to just pick one and stop leaving it up to interpretation.

So anyways, the answer is: she's a trans butch lesbian!

Overall a very positive and friendly (and energetic) person outside of Devil Theory, but can be surprisingly underhanded when in costume.

Though either way, she tends to be very high-energy. She is in fact the team member with the highest gremlin energy!

Her ears are pierced, but that was something her parents forced her into doing. She refuses to use earrings and stuff even as an adult, though she did eventually get that piercing on her nose.

She likes spicy food! Also has a tendency to add hot sauce to certain foods just to kick up the spice factor. Sai and Nunchaku used to have small arguments over her adding hot sauce to the food he cooked for her (Sai sees it almost as an insult, as if she’s saying it doesn’t already taste good enough). By now they’ve come to more of an understanding, and Sai just side-eyes her whenever she adds hot sauce to her food.

Was a bit of a kleptomaniac as a teen, and these days she still steals things on occasion. She’s good at it and manages to not get caught (a lot of the time).

One time she went to steal a new TV for the Devil Theory hideout. She saw the store she was hitting had a buy one get one free deal on TVs, so she stole two and gave the extra to BRC for their own hideout!

She works as a mechanic as her day job, mainly fixing cars, though also other kinds of large machines and equipment (washing machines, fridges, trucks, construction vehicles, etc). She’s in charge of fixing the crew’s skateboards when needed.

Adding onto her job backstory: The shop Nunchaku works for as a mechanic is owned by a guy who originally mentored her back at the factory she worked at (mentioned a lot earlier on this post). Basically he'd seen a lot of violations and other shady crap, none of it getting fixed despite multiple complaints and reports. And seeing so many people (including unfortunately Nunchaku) end up hurt at once was the last straw. So he quit, opened a repair shop, and offered Nunchaku and other former employees of the factory new jobs at his business. They're all happier to be away from that crappy factory, which has since been shut down due to the accidents and violations.

Nunchaku is crane and forklift certified. She figured it would look good on her resume, and hopefully be impressive to the ladies. Hopefully. It hasn't worked yet.

She has been interested in learning about welding, especially given how much money those types of jobs make, but for now she's happy with her mechanic job.

She likes to take things apart in order to put them back together again. She finds it's the easiest way for her to understand how something works!

She has a personal goal of someday taking apart DJ Cyber's spider tank thingamajig in order to figure out how it works. And ideally being able to make one of her own. Basically imagine the following: Nunchaku: "Heeeey, Mr. DJ, do you mind if I take a look at your tank thing? I promise I won't take long!" DJ: "Hell no."

She has a crush on Vinyl, but gets too nervous to actually ask her out. Nunchaku also keeps going to the music shop that Vinyl works at to buy records (she doesn’t even have a record player) just to talk to her. Note that Vinyl working at a music shop is inspired by Mech's headcanons for Vinyl! :>

Nunchaku's impromptu "record collection" is growing out of hand at this point, a lot of it for genres she doesn't even like, lol

She once tried to learn how to juggle knives in order to impress ladies! That ended in a trip to the Flesh Prince (again, hospitals would ask too many questions), and she hasn't tried that since.

She knows how to pick locks though! Most of the time it's just using one tool (more often than not the single-sided jiggler) to jam everything until they open. She gets excited when she has to pick a lock that actually requires genuine work to get open.

American, as mentioned a while ago she moved from California to New Amsterdam a bit after high school

Fluent in Japanese (she learned it due to being a weeb, lol); in terms of Spanish, she’s in the same boat as Bō, knowing enough to at least follow Sai and Daishō’s conversations in Spanish

---

SO THAT'S EVERYTHING!! For now. Maybe.

I'm gonna go hibernate like a bear for a while. Feel free to leave snacks in front of my cave if you want, loool

#Bomb Rush Cyberfunk #devil theory #bomb rush cyberfunk devil theory #brc devil theory #bomb rush cyberfunk headcanons #brc headcanons #there might be a bit of self-projection here too; that probably ties into why I feel embarrassed to share these headcanons lol...

39 notes · View notes

sarifinasnightmare · 1 year ago

Text

VENARARE

I wrote this incredibly pissed off, so if you don't like this too much, whatever.

Rated: Mature

Summary: The Winter Soldier is a terrifying gladiator who doesn't care about the world, much less love anyone. Well we'll see about that.

The Winter Soldier was the greatest, most terrifying gladiator in the area. They say he got his name from his time as a soldier up in the north among the hairy barbarians and in the freezing cold had lost his mind and slaughtered an entire village single-handedly. When he came back to the city he still craved violence and bloodshed so he became a gladiator in order to slack his dangerous lusts.

When he appeared on the line-up people knew they were in for a show. He decimated his fellow gladiators, leaving them out cold or even dead out on the sand if the crowd didn’t protest quickly enough to spare them. If criminals needed to be offed, he’d do it cleanly, sending the head sailing before the fool even knew he was dead. The number of animals he’d killed rivaled the legendary Cop Offerus. He had even made a cloak of white wolf pelt that he’d skinned off the beast that had nearly gotten him.

In his mail skirt, greaves, the Winter Soldier wore a silver manica down his left arm that glittered ominously in the sunlight. What made him stand out from all the other strong, powerfully built Murmillo was his refusal to wear a helmet. His long hair curled around his ear, and he covered the lower half of his face. Why? Some said it was to emphasize the icy blue of his eyes, but he never explained himself to anyone. He cared about nothing and no one. He ate, slept, pissed, fought and fucked with the same expression on his face.

Since he was no slave, but a citizen and a former soldier, the ludus he called home had been obliged to pay him some share of his winnings. The lanista had at first scoffed at paying him anything, but with every successive win and his growing popularity he gladly paid him so he’d stay and not go off with another owner. That did not mean he could shirk his duties. During the observations, people would crowd, scared and intrigued as he paced around the cage like a beast looking for his next prey. Children were terrified of him, men were fascinated and the woman…it depended.

People wanted a piece of him, his sweat was highly prized, he’d been at many homes of wealthy patrons who wanted private demonstrations of his prowess, whether that was sword or cock it didn’t matter to him. Many thought that they could tame him, bring him to heel with their powers or their beauty, but he’d seen it all, done it all. They were all a bore and he plowed through them until they were little more than gasping whimpering lumps of flesh on their perfumed couches. The wives of ancient senators were his personal favorite bit of sport. There was a pleasure in knowing that while the arrogant assholes were congratulating themselves on being so superior in their lecture halls, he was in their houses fucking their wives stupid, spilling his seed into their cunts and filling them with his bastards. He knew of at least three so far. One of the women even went and brought the infant to him. Fat little thing, he wished the child well, knowing that the cuckolded husband had long desired an heir and now he had it, so he needn’t worry about it’s future. She thought she could gain his affection this way, but he wasn’t moved. Those women, those men meant nothing to him. They were the ones who craved him; he didn’t want them at all. They could all disappear, and he’d be fine. One day he’d put his sword down, collect his winnings and leave. Where? No one’s damned business.

On a hot day during a funerary tournament, amongst the sea of white, red and purple togas was the delicate splash of pink that caught his eye. The Winter Soldier had just been stopped from killing his opponent and had been basking in the light breeze that came through only to have a pink linen wrap around his ankle. He picked it up and could smell the faintly spiced fragrance. Looking around he saw a woman also in pink going to the edge of the arena in the hopes of catching her kerchief but then tugged down by her companion. She wore her veil over her braided head, but her face was unmistakable. For one she was Afri, but not a slave, a free woman, a maiden. In fact, she was amongst a small group of them. Merchant class if their clothes were any indication. Her skin was an unbroken, unblemished mahogany with a glossy shine to her cheekbones that made her look almost goddess like. Even from this distance, he could see how plump her lips were as well as the slight glimpse of snow white teeth. Fire suddenly bloomed from his loins at the sight of her.

She stared at him, noticing her linen in his hands, her fingers twitching as if aching to get it back. He stared back, wanting her to see as he brought the soft cloth to his nose to inhale her fragrance and upon finding it pleasing, he slipped it down to tuck under his skirt for safekeeping.

The maiden looked away, blushing furiously and the Winter Soldier’s lips curled slightly.

___________________---

Afterward he waited for her to appear, to ask for her linen back. Much to his disappointment, it was her companion who appeared; a blonde skinny thing, who came in with a slave and an escort. She requested the return of her friend’s linen. He refused.

“She values her chastity, and she can’t be seen in the company of…you.” She explained even as her eyes slid over him in a familiar path. “I however have no such problems seeing you…or you seeing me.”

Boring. He could make this slip of a maiden come in five minutes without even having to take his tunic off. “Then it stays with me. It smells so sweetly of its owner. Perhaps I’ll wear it as a favor during my tournaments.”

Unable to do anything else, the blonde left in a huff and the Winter Soldier sat down on a bench. He took the linen from his pouch and stroked the fabric, thinking of her and savoring the ache that she created in him.

_______________________---

Sarah was upset when her friend returned without the linen and with what he said. She heartily cursed her brother for going against their parents’ wishes and wanting to go see the gladiator tournament. As the sheltered daughter of a wealthy merchant, she’d never been allowed to see such a thing, their mother feared it would be too much for her to handle. Being stubborn and a bit rebellious, and egged on by her new friend Fabia, she decided to make her brother take them. Now because of her impulsive decision, her handkerchief was in the hands of the most dangerous gladiator in the arena!

“Why is it such a bother?�� Fabia said in their shared room. “It’s just a little bit of cloth; there’s not even a mark to distinguish it as yours!”

“You don’t know my parents!” Sarah protested. “My mother is the goddess of discovery; she knows when something’s going on. She knows this color is my favorite and should your parents take my parents to the circus, and should she see that bit of pink she’ll get a feeling. Then the next thing I know she’ll pester my brother until he gives up the secret and I’m doomed!” She lays back on the couch and covers her face. “She’ll marry me off to the first fat, rich, old man in order to save my reputation!”

“Nothing a little poison in his wine can’t fix.”

“Fabia!”

The blonde shrugged. “Well if you can’t go to him, then I’ll just have to bring him to you.”

Sarah glared. “How?”

“My father is throwing a feast in honor of your father, right? So I’ll just do a little begging and insist that since us sweet little maidens can’t go to see the games if he’d hire a couple of the gladiators for a harmless exhibition to entertain the guests?”

“You can do that??”

The blonde scoffed. “I’m the only girl out of five sons and if his precious little darling wants to see the great Winter Soldier, then that’s what’s going to happen, so then while everyone is feasting, you can sneak over to him and get your linen.”

It was a crazy idea and the thought of being within reach of him made her shiver, but what else could she do? Sarah immediately agreed.

_______________________---

The Winter Soldier gave no thoughts about the party he and the rest of his companions were being sent to. It was pure entertainment, an exhibition only, so he didn’t care until he saw the older, dark-skinned matron standing next to her husband. Quicky, he saw the similar features to his pink maiden and realized that she might reside within. Now his senses were pricked, and his icy cold eyes darted around, taking in the layout as he carefully sought the slightest glimpse of her. They were taken to the slave’s quarters to prepar themselves until it was time for them to work. Some of the servant girls giggled and flirted with them and most were responsive, but not him. They weren’t the ones who shone like a black pearl in his mind.

“Where is Lady Sarah’s gown for tonight! Tell me it’s dry!” A black servant rushed in frantically.

“Here, here! Just came off the rack.” Another presented her with a folded white linen with green edges.

“Thank the heavens! She didn’t want to wear pink tonight for some reason.”

He appeared nonchalant as he listened to the little tidbits that they dropped for him. Sarah, her name is Sarah and she’ll be in a white and green dress. She’d wear no veil for the event as it was in a private residence, so he’d see the full scope of her beauty.

When they were finally taken to the grounds where he and the others would spar, he took a look around at the partygoers until he found her. She was seated next to the blonde at a small distance with the other women, but truly she shone like a pearl.

Roman men saw true beauty in pale white skin. Idiots to limit their views in such a way, because who could compare to the richness of Sarah’s dark skin? Her black hair was tressed up with cowrie shells and bits of gold. Her eyes were dark and sparkled like the night sky. She was a gorgeous, untouched beauty and his body abruptly ached with a want that nearly split him in two.

Suddenly he almost got walloped by a shield and he was forced to ignore her so as not to make a fool of himself. He wanted this fight to end quick, he didn’t care if he won or lost, he wanted to find her, go to her…

Briefly he caught a glimpse of her looking excited, the tip of her pink tongue peeking out and the frustrated rage that he couldn’t touch her made him charge against his opponent like a madman.

_____________________---

Sarah was nervous, during the mock battle the Winter Soldier fought like a beast unleashed, impressing the men and frightening the women. The other gladiators, groaning and aching were taken back to the servant’s quarters to relax, refresh and prepare in case they were wanted for other things. Now as the party continued, and the wine was being drunk to excess did she finally make her move to meet the great soldier.

Slowly one by one the Winter Soldier’s companions became otherwise occupied but no one called for him, then the black maid from earlier whistled to him and gestured for him to follow. It was time. Wordlessly he followed her. His body tightened in anticipation, he couldn’t help it and then there she was.

Sarah emerged from a darkened corner and gasped to see him suddenly less than foot away from her. He didn’t hesitate to shorten the distance between them until her back was pressed against the wall.

“Please don’t kill me, I just want my handkerchief.” She said breathlessly.

She was taller than he imagined, but that only made her more goddess like and the scent of her was sweeter than the bit of linen had implied. “I’m not going to kill you…” he touched her satin cheek with rough fingertips, “…why would I harm such perfection?”

Heat bloomed on her face and she looked down modestly. “I never knew soldiers could flatter.”

“They don’t, most are brutes who take what they want.” His thumb delicately stroked her lower lip and she shivered. The heat on her face now spread through her chest and further down her body.

“Like you did with my linen?” she managed to say softly. “I need it back.”

“You want me to give back what the gods decided was now mine?” He chided gently.

“It was the wind, not the gods.” She countered and carefully grabbed his wrist, drawing his inquisitive fingers away so she could think clearly. He was handsomer than she first thought, and those blue eyes weren’t cold, but warm, almost burning. “Please, my mother would be furious if she suspected I am here with a man…”

“I too would be furious to see you with a man.” He growled, taking her hands in his, finding her fingers long, but soft. “The thought of anyone touching you…” Dipping down he inhaled the perfume before kissing her knuckles.

He was too much, and she shuddered, overwhelmed. “Why are you so determined to keep my kerchief?”

“Because it is yours and when I touch it I feel as if I’m touching you.”

Goosebumps broke out and her heart skipped a beat. “What’s your name?”

“Hm?”

“Your name? I can’t call you soldier.”

“James.” He revealed softly.

The way he softened a bit when he revealed that to her was so charming. Perhaps he was not the beast he played to be. “If you wish to have a part of me so much then let me offer an exchange. If I give you another linen of mine, one my mother won’t recognize in exchange for the pink one, would you accept?”

The pink one had since lost its scent. “Only if given by your hands, Sarah.”

The butterflies fluttered within. She went with her maid to get the cloth and quicky returned with a soft white linen of the same size. Making sure they were still unseen she rejoined the gladiator in the darkened corner. He watched her, large and silent, as she approached him. With great tenderness she brought the linen to her lips for a gentle kiss, then offered it to him.

“As promised from my own hands to you, James.”

He bypassed the linen, grabbed her wrist and pulled her suddenly into his arms. He was a wall of muscle and heat, his blue eyes blazing into hers, catching her breathless.

“Is this linen the only way I will ever know the taste of your lips?”

“Is that all you crave?” She asked, as her hands rested over his shoulders, touching a man for the first time and finding the shape of his lips suddenly incredibly compelling.

“Sarah if I had my way I’d lay you out before that statue of Venus and teach you pleasures that send you to the stars.”

Seduced beyond understanding, she parted her lips and he claimed them, his tongue sliding in to awaken hers to this new form of pleasure. Passion scorched them to the bone as they kissed until they were panting desperately for more.

“My lady! My lady!” Her maid hissed. “Your mother’s looking for you!”

“No,” she whimpered, drawing away. “James I need to-”

“You’ve ruined me,” he growled, letting her go, but not before giving her the pink cloth back.

He watched her go, disappear back into the party full of people who’d keep her clean and pure and far away from men like him.

“Fuck you,” he said to no one in particular, then took the new white linen and pressed it to his nose, inhaling her scent.

____________________----

A fever had broken inside of him and there was no quenching it. It made him irritable and soon people gave him a wide berth. He threw himself into his battles, needing to burn the energy and when that wasn’t enough, he fucked his way through a succession of wives, leaving them gasping and bowl-legged.

But when he closed his eyes, it was Sarah on his mind and the kiss that snatched his soul and bound him to her. Sometimes he’d wake up from a nocturnal emission frustrated and full of longing.

In another part of the city Sarah was struggling with her own desires. His kiss left her aching, throbbing for more of what he promised. She wanted to see the stars, she wanted James to take her there.

“What is wrong with you?” Fabia whined as they walked through the gardens. “All you’ve done for a while is look out into the distance and sigh to yourself. Did your parents tell you something?”

“Well yes. My mother said when we go back home they’re going to start looking for a husband for me, but I knew that would happen soon…It’s just…I think of him…”

“Him?? There’s a him??” The blonde grinned and embraced her excitedly. “Who is it? How did you even meet him?”

Sarah hesitated for a moment. “It’s the Winter Soldier…when I asked for the linen back we spoke…and he kissed me.”

“You kissed the most terrifying gladiator in all of Rome! Sarah you’re mad!”

“He’s not terrible. He’s not terrible at all…Oh Fabia the feelings I’ve had in my stomach, in my heart…”

She clicked her tongue in sympathy. “Oh Sarah, Cupid has struck you.”

“I wonder if he feels the same? It’s been weeks.” She looked over the walls in the direction of the coliseum.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Fabia smiled cunningly.

“Fabia you’re insane!” She guessed.

“Do you wish to see him? Then be brave! True lovers will risk anything.”

Sarah was frightened of the consequences of her parents’ wrath, but the temptation was too strong, and she acquiesced.

___________________---

The Winter Soldier sat at the bench, thoughtfully chewing on his bread, ignoring the crowd that watched him and the other gladiators feast before their fight. He heard in the distance men shout their bets and exchange coins. He knew many were putting money on him, confident in his win. He thought of his share of the money, which has grown considerably.

A pebble suddenly landed on his plate. He looked over, irritated until he noticed it was Sarah’s maid. Realizing what that meant, his gaze darted around until he spotted her. She was escorted, an umbrella covering her from the sun, her veil properly in place, but it was her unmistakably. She came to see him but dared not approach, not with all the other gawkers. Her eyes moved around him, seeking. He pulled out the white linen kerchief and she smiled sweetly. She tapped her chest three times and pointed at him; her heart was glad to see him.

“My mistress wants to see you-” Suddenly one of the spectators tried to take liberties with the maid. Furious he grabbed him by his garment and yanked him violently against the steel bars. The fool fell into a heap, and everyone gave him a wide berth. Before the coliseum guards could pull him away, he listened to the maid finish. “-tonight by the west gate of your ludus.”

As the guards yanked him away he looked Sarah in the eyes and nodded.

_________________------

The whole day was torture for him. He’d fought like a god, knowing that the end of the day he would see his goddess again. The west gate of the ludus was least watched, mostly because it led to nowhere, only thick brush and rocky hills. However they were still locked and bars were solid, yet that didn’t diminish their reunion.

Sarah wore a black cloak, her maid and guard at a safe distance keeping watch, so they didn’t stop them as they kissed between the iron bars. The Winter Soldier was desperate to wrap his arms around her waist and pulled her as tight as the barriers allowed. Sarah cupped his dear face and kissed him fiercely.

“One kiss and I’m yours, James. What have you done to me?” She panted.

“Say it to me again. Tell me you’re mine, Sarah.” He commanded, his hands caressing, seeking.

He found her breasts and cupped them, making her hard little peaks bloom with desire. “I want to be yours, I dream of being yours.”

“The way I’ve starved for you. The way I’ve suffered from the lack of you.” He replied, “No woman nor man has tortured me as you have.”

The primal urge surged throughout her body, begging her to shed her clothes and let it fulfill it’s sacred duty with this man. “I want you to take me to the stars, James. Take me there before my husband does.”

The words stopped him dead. “Husband?”

“My family is leaving in a few weeks.” She revealed softly. “They plan to find me a husband.”

No, no! Is this a cruel joke by Venus to present a woman that finally awakened his soul only to snatch her away and give her to some pompous idiot who would only see her as a broodmare?

“I will go mad.” He said gruffly.

“And I will yearn for you for the rest of my days.” She replied. “Please.”

He could not deny her. “Send your maid to me in three days. I will tell her where we shall meet.”

____________________-----

The three days felt like years to Sarah, but she quietly prepared for their eventual joining. Fabia smuggled in oils and perfumes, helped her groom herself and arranged her clothes. Her mother noticed the change and commented on it.

“Fabia was showing me some new cosmetics.” she said shyly. “Do you like it?”

“It’s different, but it makes me think of what we’ll plan for when you get married. I’ve already ordered some new fabrics for dresses and ordered some stones…”

“Do you think I’ll be married off so fast, Mama? Or is that you want me to go?”

Her mother looked sad. “No! No, my darling it’s just…the relatives think we’ve been holding onto you for too long and that all this traveling will leave you restless and open to mischief. Don’t worry, I won’t have you given away so quickly. We will make sure your husband is a good man who will take good care of you, I promise.”

“And if I fall in love, Mama?”

“Then we will make sure he is worthy of that love.” She promised as well.

That night Sarah thought of her mother and her promise, but it didn’t dissuade her. With maid and guard beside her, she stole into the Roman night to meet with her true lover.

___________________---

By the temple of Venus there was a garden built by one of those snobby senators in order to win more points with the citizens. Of course, he built himself a little villa that overlooked it that only he could use. Luckily, said senator was off doing some pompous bullshit down south so the villa was empty. The Winter Soldier knew when he brought Sarah inside. He cleaned it a little and prepared the bedroom for his maiden. There were only a few oil lamps, but it was just enough for them to see each other as they undressed for the first time.

He never wore much to begin with, but what he revealed to her was shocking to say the least.

“Will that…in me?” She murmured breathlessly.

“I will be gentle.” He promised as he approached her and gently touched the cord around her waist. “May I?”

She nodded and only trembled slightly as the cord fell to the floor and her gown was slowly lifted from her body.

He had seen and fucked so many types of bodies, but hers, hers was without rival. Formed from the finest clay, glossy like satin, designed to make his mouth water.

“Is this pleasing?” she asked and gasped softly when he picked her up and effortlessly carried her to the bed. He hovered over her for a moment before bathing her in kisses.

“Gorgeous, radiant, divine….” He mouthed against her skin, “….the gods wept when they made you.”

He caressed her everywhere and made her feel glorious. When his tongue lapped her intimate place, she was momentarily repelled until new ecstasy caused her to cry out for more. She ran her fingers through his hair and pleaded with him to never stop.

Drunk with the taste of her, he pleasured her, teased her until the sweet music of her cries filled the air and she experienced her first climax. Taking advantage of her fresh slickness, he moved up between her long legs and placed the throbbing head of his shaft against her opening.

“I dedicate our joining to Venus, to guide me in showing you the true love between us and show you the delights of the celestial heavens.”

She knew there would be some pain, so the burn and the stretch didn’t scare her. She did her best to relax and moaned when James stroked her tender nerves, mingling pleasure with pain. It was a marvel that he could fit so perfectly inside her and by the time their roots met, she felt positively stuffed.

“Oh…”

James braced himself over her, sweating, her virgin sheath so good that it was killing him not to move. “Am I hurting you?”

“No…I’ve never felt anything like this….” She suddenly gave him a smoky smile. “I like it.”

“Sweet gods,” he whined, bowing his head in utter defeat as his hips rebelled against his control and began to move.

Sarah wrapped her arms around him and held his muscular body against hers as they gave in to the primal urge that stirred from the first look. There was no shame between them as they kissed, licked, caressed and moved as one. Black and white flesh mingled and rolled around in the sheets as they fought to draw out the pleasure for as long as they could.

James could not take his eyes off her, loving how she gleamed with pleasure, how the sweet scent of her mingled with their sex and then there was her unrestrained moans. She didn’t screech or howl like a whore determined to put on a good show. Her breathless, needy whines were of genuine joy and his own soon broke free, groans that were as deep as the pleasure churning in his loins, threatening to shatter him.

“James, James, I love you, I love you!” She cried out as the wave of delight crested over her body, threatening to drown her. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she forced him deeper and shuddered helplessly.

He was lost, lost in the tight heat of her and then she squeezed, flaying him with ecstasy. “My love, my love!”

The stars burst before them, and Venus blessed them with joy.

__________________---

They could not meet again for another interlude, although the gods knew they wanted to. Too quickly her family was packing their belongings from Fabia’s family’s residence and then she’d be on a ship heading back home.

Sarah did her best to come close to the Coliseum as often as she could, claiming that she wanted to walk it a few more times before leaving. James was there behind his iron bars waiting for her, staring at her as if he could make love to her from his gaze alone.

On the last day she came in her pink gown and dared to approach the bars. He grabbed her hands and dared to openly kiss them.

“I will be a good wife to my husband. I will run his house and give birth to his children, but my heart and soul will forever be yours James. Know this, believe this.”

He nodded and tried to speak. “I’ve been cold for so long. All my life I’ve felt nothing until I saw you. I, who have never prayed to the gods now beg them to reunite us in the end.”

She nodded, fighting back tears and thrust her original pink linen into his hands before turning away to go.

He watched her go, clutching the bars that he suddenly hated more than life itself. He gripped them until he was white knuckled and screamed at the injustice of it all.

Sarah heard the scream down to her bones and cried quietly in her bed as they sailed away.

_____________________----

The Winter Soldier was colder and meaner than ever on and off the arena. His companions at the ludus avoided him like the plague as all he wanted to do was drink, sleep and fight. He rejected the advances of former paramours, refusing to befoul the memories of Sarah with their filth.

She should be back home by now, no doubt picking out fabrics and jewels for her wedding day with her mother. Anger flooded him and he slammed his cup of wine down harshly, causing it to spill over.

“It’s a waste of food, soldier.”

He glanced over and saw that it was Sarah’s blonde little friend. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“When does a slave get to speak to me that way?”

“I’m not a slave, I’m a freeman! I’m here of my own free will!” He snapped.

She arched a brow. “Oh really? Then what’s stopping you from leaving the arena, sailing across the ocean and paying Sarah’s bride price?”

“I don’t have enough to do that….to provide for her and give her what she deserves.” He muttered.

“Bah, I bet you could earn more than enough in a single fight.” She countered. “If you wanted to, but I suppose a soldier like you only takes orders.”

Bullshit! Everything he’d ever done was because he wanted it, but Sarah had her wants too.

“She’s determined to do right for her parents. I cannot ruin that for her.” He argued.

“She slept in the same room as I and her tears for you were endless. Her heart and soul are broken without you. Do you really wish for her to be so miserable?”

No, and to know that she had been so unhappy made him angry. Why did Venus give him a taste of real love only to cut it off so abruptly? Was it his punishment for treating it so lightly before? Or was she perhaps offering him the chance to prove that he had changed and would risk it all?

“Find me a ship.” He said suddenly, standing up.

“For when?” She asked.

“Three days. It’s all I need.”

______________----

Sarah was glad to be home of sorts. They all arrived safely but her mother became very sick so all concerns were about her recovery. The matron had insisted that they continue with the matchmaking, but Sarah had firmly refused to even consider thinking about her happiness while her mother was in such a state. Relatives would accuse her of being selfish and unfilial.

Finally, when her mother was healthy enough to move around once more did she reluctantly agreed to start looking for a husband. There were plenty of men put forward by relatives insisting that they would be perfect for her. She doubted it.

It turned out the fussiest person in the groom selection process was not Sarah, but her father. He loved his son, but also doted on his daughter and wanted to make sure that the man for her was good, hard working, fearless and rich…very rich. It frustrated her mother to no end when he rejected nearly all the men when they tried to negotiate the bride price. He wanted a hundred head of cattle, goats and sheep, servants to take over their daughter’s former responsibilities, plus some jewels for his wife. There were some men who could do it, but wondered if the merchant’s daughter was worth so much.

“Hey,” Samuel disturbed her and her mother from their weaving, “a new suitor just showed up and he’s Roman. He’s talking to father right now.”

“What?” Both women were shocked and rose to investigate.

Rushing to the main sitting area, Sarah nearly collapsed when she saw that it was none other than James! Except he wasn’t dressed like a gladiator, but a Roman citizen.

Meanwhile James saw her enter and it was as if he had been given water from paradise. He offered her a small smirk before turning back to her father.

“Your daughter is a pearl without price, but I am willing to pay for her to be my wife.” He said firmly.

“I am surprised that you are here making such a request when I don’t even know you.” Her father asked.

“I was a common soldier who joined the legion and fought the barbarians up in the frozen north. I then became a gladiator because after all the ugliness and horror I saw I didn’t care what happened in the world. I was the Winter Soldier and my life was meaningless until I saw your daughter.”

Sarah blushed and her mother studied her. “You know this man, Sarah?”

“I do, Mama. I know him as James.” She admitted, her heart beating fast.

“When she left I wanted to die, but then someone reminded me that I had the choice and the means to get her back.” He then explained how he took his life savings and bet it all to win one of the largest, winner take all gladiator battles exhibited at the arena. There were no less than thirty pairings and winners kept fighting until only one stood standing, then the leaders decided to throw in a few tigers just for fun. By the end of it, he had been battered, bruised, bleeding and exhausted beyond belief. The only thing that gave him courage was the pink linen tucked on his belt, for her he’d fight until the end and he nearly did. His reward finally? He was rich beyond belief, so finally he dropped his sword, took his money and sailed across the sea to find the only one who would make him happy.

“Sarah, be my wife. Run my house, bear my children and I will love you with a flame that will shame the sun.”

“Yes!” She cried out, running and throwing her arms around him before anyone could stop her. To be in each other’s arms after believing that they never would again was intoxicating.

The family was then shocked to see them kiss with a passion that only lovers could have.

Her father cleared his throat sharply. “Sir…the bride price?”

James drew back, his eyes fixed on Sarah’s joyous expression. “Name it, name your price. I’ll give you Rome itself.”

The family matron gave her husband a knowing look and the man sighed understanding. “Rome will not be necessary, but we can negotiate the bride price into something reasonable so long as you promise to make my daughter smile as brightly as she is now.”

In the end her father got his hundred head of livestock, her mother got a small casket of jewels and Sarah sought out the most beautiful fabrics for her wedding dress.

Sam helped his new brother-in-law find a house worthy of his sister and arranged it to her liking. When the ceremony, rituals, and feasting was done, James took his beloved wife over the threshold of their new home and brought her to bed. There their passion was unleashed once more as their bodies mingled on the marital bed. James feasted on her like a man starved and she saw the heavens every time they joined.

“I’m yours, yours completely.” She murmured sleepily as they lay sated in their bed.

“My wife,” he replied pulling her close, desiring her warmth. “I loved you at first sight.”

They had an altar to Venus built and tied around the wrist for safe keeping was the pink kerchief.

#bucky barnes #sarah x bucky #sarahbucky #sarah wilson #fleur de louve #fatws #gladiator #i wrote this #in a fit of rage #by the time I was done I kind of exhausted #I'm a little better now

9 notes · View notes

nightmaretist · 6 months ago

Text

TIMING: Current PARTIES: Wyatt @loftylockjaw & Inge @nightmaretist LOCATION: Art Walk SUMMARY: Inge is walking the art walk. Wyatt recognizes her from his dreams. He responds very well. CONTENT WARNINGS: Cops, implied past domestic abuse.

Inge was a creature of the night, more and more these days. As the world grew sunnier and its days longer she found herself growing more agitated. But she was no recluse — though she was a being who thrived best when the sun was down, she would never become someone who hid in the shadows while it was daytime. So she wore glasses with tinted lenses and clothes that covered her glistening skin (or at least attempted to, some of it was made of sheer fabric) and went out.

Getting back into the swing of teaching after her semi-absence (due to a burn out on paper and sword related injuries in reality) was not going as smooth as she’d like and yet another day was over and done with. She moved through downtown now, to run an errand or two and judge the art walk murals with no holds barred.

It was, for all intents and purposes, a normal spring day.

Until – and there was an until, as there always was these days – her eyes fell on another pedestrian. She’d seen this man before, but it was often just when he was sprawled in bed, tied up in his sheets, or walking through her nightmarish traps. Inge had encountered this problem before, but precedence did not mean she was prepared for it now. To see a sleeper in the waking world, to be confronted with someone who had only seen her in their dreams was always a gamble — and it was a risk, most of all. People were unpredictable when their nights were restless. She had known this from personal experience once. Maybe she still did.

She turned to look at the mural, hoping that en profil she’d be less recognizable. Her eyes took in a larger-than-life Dolly Parton as she resisted the urge to turn and walk off.

—

He was on his way to Xó’s place, knowing that she needed him as much as he needed her right now. He hoped that he could pick himself up off the ground after the previous night, that he could get his shit together well enough to be the support that she needed, but it felt like a daunting task. His mind was fuzzy and thoughts disjointed as he walked, weaving his way through the evening’s foot traffic.

His gaze raked over the crowd, not seeing much. His attention was unfocused, wandering, not looking for anything in particular as he followed the familiar path to his friend’s home. People were looking up at the murals, admiring how nice they were, but Wyatt did not appreciate them in that moment. He was trying to appreciate how his eyelids did not feel too heavy, how the fifteen minutes he’d let himself sleep in the car after parking in town had given him a small boost of energy, hopefully enough to keep him on his feet for a few hours and give Xó the attention and care she deserved.

Only… maybe it hadn’t. He stopped, breath catching in his throat. It was her. It was her. He’d know her face anywhere, even though he couldn’t see it in full. She was a regular fixture in his nightmares, and sometimes he felt… her presence felt orchestrated, like she was the one pulling the strings. But he didn’t know her! How could she be?

… this was a dream. This was another dream. Fuck, he was still asleep in the car. Had he forgotten to set his alarm? No, no, no. If this went on for too long, it would turn strange. The arrival of the red-haired stranger only guaranteed it, guaranteed that he would be soon enveloped by fear, gripped by horror, strangled by panic. He felt his breathing quicken, heart thundering in his chest. He wouldn’t run. He wouldn’t run this time. She wasn’t even looking at him. This was different, but it still felt the same, somehow. She wasn’t looking. He would… he would confront her. It wouldn’t matter if this was a dream, probably. He wasn’t a dream expert. But he had to do something before the birds came.

Striding over to her, the shifter had no pretense. He had no tact and no plan on how to handle this. He was asleep, what did it matter? Nothing mattered. Nothing except… except getting at her. Maybe if he killed her in his dream, she wouldn’t show up again. Maybe it would just feel good, and that was it. He could stand that. He needed something to feel good.

“You,” he snarled, closing the distance between them. The people nearest them reacted to the growl by stepping back, eyes wide. “Who are you?” His panic rose, his heart beat faster, and he let out a desperate yowl, “Who are you?! Why are you here?! What do you want?!” He reached for her, a thirst for violence in his eyes. There were exclamations from the townies enjoying the art walk, and the empty space around them grew in size.

—

The artist was egocentric. It was impossible not to be, in a way. To kill one’s ego and still make art that was worthwhile was something that Inge thought impossible and so in every piece she made there was something of her embedded. For her physical, earthly works, this meant not so much besides that – in her opinion – her work was better for it.

But in dreams? In dreams she was so arrogant as to appear herself, to be a witness of the horrors if not a perpetrator. In dreams she was powerful and limitless, able to transform herself into some kind of monster. She could give herself claws or wings, feathery skin or a sharp beak, and she had done that in the dreams of Wyatt. Wyatt, who existed to her only in his bedroom, asleep and pliable, and who should not exist out here.

It was not the first time she was recognized by a sleeper. There was a precedence that had failed to make her wise and cautious enough to avoid running into the issue. So when Wyatt marched over, she felt her body tighten. She cursed the sun for shining. She cursed, somewhere deep inside, her own arrogance. But she did not run.

Not when he snarled, not when people stepped aside, not when he reached for her. Then, she stepped back, letting an expression of shock wash over her. It was genuine. It was played. It never really mattered any more, whether something was real or played up. What mattered was that it was convincing. “What do you mean?” Her voice was shrill and sharp, tucking her arms around her body. Inge was no fool. She’d been on this earth for over seven decades. A muscular man approaching a shorter, weaker-seeming woman like this made alarm bells sound. “I don’t want anything — I don’t even know you.”

—

Liar. She was a fuckin’ liar. There was no way he was mistaking that face, even if it wasn't haloed by onyx feathers, even if it lacked a beak that clacked and snapped with her laughter and still rang in his ears when he stumbled and fell back into consciousness. He knew that face. He feared that face.

But… she was recoiling. This was new. A new way of making him feel uncertain, unsteady. Was he awake or asleep? He could never tell anymore. But her presence, even if she was acting afraid, had to mean he was asleep, right? It had to. It had to, that was the only explanation. So he didn't really care what this looked like. He ignored the shouts from people who feared for the woman's safety but who were too afraid to lay hands on him themselves. They were nothing. They were ghosts.

“Bullshit,” he hissed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He wanted to grab her, he wanted to close his hand around her slender throat and strangle the air from it, for all the good that'd fucking do. He couldn’t dampen his temper, even if his actions meant nothing here. Being angry was better than being afraid. So he reached out again, fingertips brushing over her pale skin briefly before being jerked back. Pain bloomed on his jaw, and the shifter frowned. He glanced over, seeing some ghost in a dream with his fist raised, yelling something about calling the cops. Wyatt laughed, ignoring the interruption and focusing his piercing gaze back on the woman. But before he could snatch her up and rip her to pieces, there was another weight on his back. Hands gripped him tightly, and more pain erupted in his gut. There were more of them now, nameless specters, all attacking him and trying to drag him to the ground. Was this part of the nightmare? The shifter let out a furious, bellowing yowl, swinging his own fists to try and scatter the men, but they were many.

“I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!” he howled at the woman, successfully knocking one attacker to the ground only for two more to take his place. They were not fighters like he was, but together, they were a significant challenge. He sank to the ground after a kick to the back of his knees, but his gaze never left the woman's face. Anger turned to desperation as he realized he wasn't going to be getting back up, not with all the hands holding him down. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes and he grimaced through them. “Leave me alone,” he shouted at her. He just wanted restful sleep. Nothing more. This phantom woman, this fixture in his nightmares, had to have something to do with it. And if she didn't, if she was just a figment of his imagination, then begging for the impossible was certainly not something he was unfamiliar with. “God, just leave me alone!”

—

And so prey became predator became prey. Wyatt saw his nightmare in the flesh and finally reared his head and it was Inge who seemed the most easily harmed. It was a rush. Even in the waking world she held the upper hand, for once. She watched his temper flare and rage and she knew there was a chance that those hands would reach her body and do damage — but they were in public, and she’d recently been run through by a sword so a punch to the face was not the worst kind of violence to be anticipating.

He did touch her, just the once, and there was the audience. Inge didn’t usually perform with an audience but today was an exception and today the audience was on her side. She, the hero — Wyatt the villain. It was a kind of power she wanted to embrace and hold onto forever, this feeling of being untouchable even when caught by someone she had … well, not harmed, but certainly haunted. She let out a yelp at the display of violence and she had to work – no one ever applauded her for her hard work – to keep herself from smiling.

Where had this been, this level of control over a scene in the factory? In the bunker, hell, even in her classrooms? Inge took a step back, her back hitting the wall behind her. Dolly Parton smiled over her as she watched the shifter remain in his human, fallible body and seem beside himself. (She had – once, long ago – she had been beside herself, pulling at her own hair and marring her skin with her nails, feeling like the world was a cloud and the only tangible thing was the fear from her dreams or the promise of them. Long ago. Not now, though.) She watched with awe – that could be fear – as people rushed to her aid, those simple humans who saw a scene and did not dare to think twice. She watched the swings of violence, the way he’d only really brushed her skin and done not much more.

She stared at him, meeting his gaze all the way through as she pressed herself up against Dolly, as if she was backed in a corner rather than a witness to her own success. If this had been in a quiet corner of town or even in the woods where his house stood, she’d be dead — but in stead he was on the ground. Tears in his eyes. Inge hadn’t felt this level of control in quite some time and she welcomed it. She looked at him and shook her head, as if denying his request. And then she shook it harder and harder, eyes searching for one of the onlookers, one of the simple humans that had approached her. “I don’t know — I don’t even know him, he just —” Teeth burrowed into her lips and she was glad that her eyes were naturally wide. “I don’t know him.” The sound of whooping sirens made her head turn. Humans really were so very predictable.

—

Despair gripped Wyatt, even though part of him believed he was no closer to relief now than he had been before spotting her. He heard the sirens and thrashed violently in the grips of those trying to restrain him, bowling over a few of them but still failing to get his feet back underneath him. There was a commotion somewhere behind them, he could hear shouts and the approaching footsteps.

He stared her down, gaze swimming from the tears, not believing her act. “You know me! Stop lyin’! Goddamnit, stop—” More hands joined the ones already on him, and he was shoved unceremoniously forward, chest colliding painfully with the pavement below him. His arms were wrenched behind his back and cuffs tightened around his wrists. He felt panic swelling in his heart—was this real? Was it real? Who was she? Why did she appear in his nightmares? He was—they were—fuck—

Getting hoisted to his feet by people trained to handle brutes like him, Wyatt squirmed uncooperatively and was told to comply or face more severe charges. Charges! Hah! This was some fuckin’ bullshit.

The woman and her crocodile tears faded into the crowd as a different officer went up to talk to her and Wyatt was steered away from the scene. Someone shoved down hard on his shoulder as they forced him into the back of a squad car, shutting the door quickly behind as he started to scream and rail against it. He could shift. He could rip through these stupid cuffs like they were tissue paper, could chew through this door like it was warm butter, and go find that bitch and bite and shake her like a chew toy, but a quiet fear that this was real kept him from it.

Xó wasn’t going to be very happy about this.

—

It was an easy role to play, wasn’t it? A role from a former life, long gone but not quite forgotten. A role her body remembered. The small woman, the easily made-into-prey woman, the woman with wide eyes who feared a man taller and stronger than her. Inge didn’t need to tap into any kind of inspiration, she could just dive to the root of existence and draw from that. Like any good artist would, she reinterpreted a feeling she had once felt and made it into something else.

Perhaps the performing arts were hers to explore next.

Wyatt was arrested and remained human, which was good for him and good for her. She knew that the future would bring trouble, that this would not be the last time they would meet eye to eye in town. She’d have to avoid places where she could be caught by herself in the daytime, which was a safety measure she was already practicing anyway. As long as they had the public, she held the cards — or so she hoped.

An officer went up to her and she moved her attention from the onlooker to the female officer, who asked her if she was doing okay, if she could explain what had happened, if she wanted to press charges. Inge let her gaze travel to Wyatt in the car, trashing and the cop looked over her shoulder, then bored her eyes into Inge’s, tugging at her elbow as if to get her away from the scene of a traumatic would-be-crime.

“It’s — I don’t know him,” she repeated, “He … seems real troubled. It’s – he didn’t hurt me.” Inge was well aware that she could be hurt. She knew Anita’s diet, and though she doubted she had much nutritional value, she was far from immune from being bitten down on. But for now she was unscathed. “I don’t … no, no, no charges. It’s — well, I hope he can get the help he can, you know? He seems very troubled, like I said.”

The officer was taking some notes, kept asking some questions, asked if Inge needed any support and it was surreal, watching that one cop car drive off and the crowds scatter. But it happened, and though this was all unfortunate, though her sleeper had found out his nightmares had a cause and she was the root of his problem, she still felt that rush of control and power. The officer slipped her a card with her number and name and she took it, ensuring her that she’d take it easy and she left the scene of the crime, Dolly Parton watching her leave as a small smile crept on her lips.

#what a way to make a livin'.#threads.#wyatt.

6 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 2 years ago

Note

I always assumed that Cinder made her swords by conjuring sand with her maiden powers and then turning it into obsidian with her semblance. I assume Penny did the same thing using maiden fire instead cause at this point fuck Cinder's semblance/dust fabric/etc I guess. I also assume that the swords are still around because the power that made them is still alive in Winter, but notice how I'm overusing the word "assume". tbh I'm not even watching this volume so *shrug*

With semblances, regular dust, dust in clothing/weapons, Maiden powers, partially siphoned Maiden powers, and the writers' tendency to just do things without offering an explanation... yeah, your guess is as good as mine.

Honestly though, the adherence to Cinder and Penny's iconic weapons bugs me because it feels like such a cop-out?The Maiden powers were introduced as elemental: Amber summons cyclone-like winds, bolts of lightning, blows fire from her staff, and freezes leaves into deadly daggers. Bad enough that there's no real, distinguishing difference between the Maiden powers - the Fall Maiden that implies fire abilities and the Winter Maiden that implies ice abilities aren't actually limited that way - but now we're left to assume (as you say, anon) that Maidens can just do... anything? Anything the plot requires, that is. Note that I say Amber freezes leaves, not that she summons them into existence, so how is Cinder magicking up sand? There's no reason that the elementally-aligned power should allow Penny to materialize swords, but because the writers wanted her iconic poses and fighting style, it just happens. But as said, that feels like a cop-out because it doesn't force the characters to undergo any change, or struggle once the powers are acquired. Despite the early Volume claim that Amber lost because she was a new, inexperienced Maiden, none of our heroes have struggled a moment when it comes to using their abilities. From Cinder beating the most powerful wizard in the world literal seconds after she gets the full power, to Winter immediately flying like she was born for it, Maiden powers are a no-train insta-kill... unless the plot needs the Maiden to inexplicably lose. And that includes ~magically~ giving the characters the chance to summon up versions of their normal weapons. Why have Penny struggle to fight without her swords, perhaps contributing to how she dies, when she can just re-create them with her ambiguous, all-purpose magic?

Also, it's kinda funny how the lack of thought put into these powers keeps implying unwanted possibilities. You know how Ambrosius is this super powerful being whose only real limitation is his inability to keep creations around post-new wish? Well, doesn't the logic of Penny's sword take care of that? At least on a smaller scale. If she can instantly create a whole circle of swords, why can't a Maiden create other things too? And if the swords last after her death because the Maiden powers still exist in the world, surely anything else they make will last too! "Oh no, Mantle is dying because there's a giant hole in the wall that no one can possibly plug with dust or good, old-fashioned labor. Ironwood is the bad guy because he's not filling that hole with the tech needed to build a communications tower :( " Never fear! Wheel the Maiden outside and she can summon up a giant wall that will last forever! Plus, a slab of magic-concrete is a lot less complicated than a collection of tapered swords complete with decorative handles, so this should be a simple, thirty-second solution :)

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

24 notes · View notes

fallingtowers · 1 year ago

Note

Serious question: do you see Disco Elysium as copaganda because it humanizes cops, despite its brutal condemnation of police work? If so, how do you square that with disliking Succession, which does the absolute Most to critique capitalist structures while humanizing (but not endearing) its characters because, yes, even the worst of the worst are human? This isn't meant in bad faith, I'm genuinely curious!

this got long so i'm putting it under a cut

i've grappled with the question of "is disco elysium copaganda" and, like, no, obviously de isn't copaganda in terms of intent; it's obviously a clearsighted and intentional critique of the police and capital at large. (i've had the same thoughts about the discworld city watch books, another piece of cop media that i like a lot and whose creator by and large seemed like a decent guy, even if pratchett was less of a Hardline Marxist than the za/um folks.)

however, i do think de occupies a kind of uneasy position in the cultural landscape because while, yes, it would be pretty tough to play that game and come away from it being like "wow! cops are great!" a LOT of people came away from it being like "wow! kim kitsuragi so cool! i love hdb he's my little meow meow!" and, at least in some cases, i think it might well lead to those people developing a voice in their mind which is sympathetic to irl cops.

TO BE CLEAR, i don't mean disco elysium Made People Like Cops. i mean it might have made certain people, on an emotional level, without realizing it themselves, more inclined to judge the actions of irl cops somewhat more sympathetically.

that isn't to say that disco elysium has done more bad than it has good -- i genuinely don't believe it has. i just mean to illustrate that talking about this stuff is by necessity a double-edged sword. humans are naturally inclined towards sympathy, and by showing someone's perspective in the way that de or succession do you're priming the audience to, while not necessarily liking that person, at least attempting to understand them.

this is a little problematic especially in the context of succession -- in a television drama, especially one of succession's caliber, we expect intriguing and complicated character motivations. and so we get this web of familial loyalties and obligations and neuroses, while in real life i doubt most rich right-wing media people operate on motivations much more complex than "i want to make lots of money, and if i get [insert minority here] killed in the process that's just a bonus."

"even the worst of the worst are human" -- this kind of ties into the point i'm making. yes, of course, but do we need media that shows this? there are other ways to critique capital without giving the spotlight over to the worst of the worst. no matter how starkly the spotlight picks out their flaws, the spotlight is still on them.

again, i don't think it's like a moral ill to watch succession. i don't think it's a particularly bad show. it's fine! i'm not even trying to argue that it's doing more harm than good -- for all i know, it might have driven home the fact that capitalism bad to tons of viewers who hadn't already internalized that knowledge. i guess all i'm saying is it makes me feel weird when people reblog my joke textposts and tag it with "#this is sooo roman" or whatever.

so, to sum up: is de copaganda? nah, not really, BUT. is succession actually propaganda? nah, probably not, BUT. and the "but" in both those cases is "but, even if you're reasonably certain the media you are consuming wasn't created to actively manipulate you, it is still a good idea to always apply the wisdom of 'i am not immune to propaganda' and think about how it might be affecting your opinions and biases subconsciously"

#this is a lot of words for something i don't actually feel that strongly about. sorry.

14 notes · View notes

watching-pictures-move · 2 years ago

Text

Movie Review | Royal Warriors (Chung, 1986)

You know you're off to a good start when a movie opens with not just one, but two great action sequences. First you get Michelle Yeoh as a cop on vacation visiting Japan and doing touristy things like snapping pictures of street performers, only to run into a bunch of mob goons chasing some poor bastard. These mob goons are extra dangerous because they have swords, but you get Yeoh and the precision of her movements as she takes these suckers out one by one. Then you get Yeoh on a plane with Hiroyuki Sanada holding a giant stuffed animal and Michael Wong providing security, and a bunch of bad guys being transported as prisoners, only for some other bad guys to try to free them. You learn that two of the bad guys are named Tiger and Cockerel, and you know which one pulled the short straw when picking cool nicknames. You get a lot of punching and kicking and shooting in close quarters, one guy going out like Goldfinger (almost), and a thing with a grenade that you probably shouldn't try at home. We're off to a great start.

This is an early girls with guns actioner, in that it stars a girl with a gun in Michelle Yeoh (although she uses her arms and legs too), but pairs her with a couple of guys probably because producers were still uncertain about the viability of female-led action films and wanted to hedge their bets. To the movie's credit, Yeoh gets to be plenty badass and does not need much saving, as can happen in more annoying examples of bet-hedging, and actually plays off pretty well with the male leads while providing a charismatic centre. And she also plays things pretty by the book, at least until the end, which is a nice enough surprise. Anyway, alongside Yeoh you get Michael Wong as a hunky, goofy cop, providing some comedic elements without getting too annoying. He hits on Yeoh with some regularity, but it feels more like flirting between coworkers than the straight up sexual harassment you often get in these movies. And you get Hiroyuki Sanada as a Japanese cop, a more stoic counterpoint to the other two. I guess he's hunky too, but for him it's not really a character trait. And I suppose Yeoh is hunky too, whatever the girl version of hunky is. Hunkette. Let's go with that. I promise I'll be less thirsty in my reviews going forward but I've been sick the last few days so please forgive me. I'm drinking lots of water so that should help. Anyway, how hunky he is doesn't matter because he's a family man and off the market, until his family gets horrifically murdered with a car bomb. But there's no time to get back in the dating scene because he's off to get his revenge.

The bad guys do some revenging too, and in fact murdered Sanada's family in the first place for that reason, although there's a bit of a chain reaction happening here. Anyway, you get a lot of great action scenes, one of them in a neon-lit nightclub, a car chase turned demolition derby, lots of collateral damage in the form of innocent bystanders, non-zero amounts of Seinfeld bass, some sacrifices, some heroism, plenty of bloodshed, some heroic bloodshed while we're at it, some mishandled evidence, a twist involving two carefully edited videotapes, a fight scene involving a chainsaw, Sanada trapped under a car sliding across a gravel pit as Yeoh pushes it with her armoured car, a bunch of explosions that look too close for comfort, and I'm having a good time. If you're watching it on the Criterion Channel, I should note that the subtitles drop out for a little bit during a climactic fight scene, but as the characters are conversing through the universal language of punching and kicking, little is lost in translation.

#film #movie review #royal warriors #david chung

5 notes · View notes

promisewrites · 2 years ago

Text

starting a new project

The liminal space between an old project and a new project.

A few days ago I finished collating the first draft of page of swords into one document by importing all the individual documents I had accumulated over the course of NaNoWriMo into one Scrivener file. It was a tiring process, to say the least. And disheartening. When I stepped back to see all of the scene cards laid out, what had once been a monolith was now bone-thin.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. I had cut so many scenes in my race to finish the novel before the close of the month. It’s kind of silly because I didn’t finish the story by November 30, in the end, anyway. The 50,000-word goal was accomplished, but I still had the fourth act (the dénouement where the characters return to a more familiar setting, changed) to write.

Because of this, I didn’t take a break from the draft in December, ready to leap back into it with fresh eyes in the new year. Instead, I worked (less furiously) to reach those magnificent words—’the end’—which I typed out at twenty-to-midnight, December 31.

While I relished working at a more leisurely pace that allowed me to flesh the prose out and tune it the way I wanted to, it gave me no room to breathe. It’s interesting. That something can continue to inspire you, but your mental energy does not keep pace with your creativity. For example, I added two epilogue chapters in a moment of evil genius. Crushing, vivid, emotional chapters.

But now I can’t bring myself to work on it anymore. Which is good, since I am supposed to have stashed the printed manuscript in a dark drawer to collect cobwebs over a month by now.

So I come to where I am now: beginning something new. Among the cut scenes, some require writing and some I loved but they just didn’t fit. It is the latter that I have interest with. And looking at aesthetically curated images in my world setting Pinterest board. A perfect marriage.

the world—I know it’s a cop-out name, but it’s simply a placeholder like the rest—is something a bit different than I have done. Looser. Less thought-out. I already have the basic plot of the rest of this series, and onyx spills afresh, mapped out in summary form at the least. But for the world, I made it on a whim. And that’s the same for all its contents. Bits and pieces of half-formed ideas my romantic brain has latched onto that I am collecting like scraps of paper.

I’ll admit quite freely: I enjoy painting pictures with words as much as with gouache. I probably do it as egregiously as Robert Jordan. So I will probably enjoy this change of pace immensely, and I don’t think anyone can complain about purple prose if that is the whole point of the piece.

To conclude, there is a gold nugget of truth in authors’ recommendations to let your first draft marinate—especially if it was written in the firestorm of a one-month writing challenge—and I am immensely excited to embark on my next project.

It’s like getting a new journal full of crisp, blank pages, in a way, after putting your lovingly worn Moleskine to rest on the shelf.

#writing #writeblr #works #the world #new project #short story #trying something different

0 notes

sappynapper · 3 years ago

Text

Couples costumes you’d go as for Halloween x crew boys

Featured CCs: Dream, Sapnap, George, Karl, Quackity

cws: fem!reader, suggestive, alcohol mention in george’s

it was chilly today and now I am so fucking jazzed for halloween LETS GOOOO

Dream:

Percy and Annabeth - Percy Jackson

Nerd alert. He’s a percy kinnie and he wants to go as percy and annabeth and that’s that. you agree when he gives you those puppy eyes and calls you his “wise girl” (i’m going to scream). You spend the evening basically in character bc he keeps knocking things over with his sword and you keep wondering how you got here. you look cute in your matching orange shirts tho, makes it the most obvious-that-you’re-a-couple couple costume which dream is a fan of bc he’s clingy :3

Anakin and Padme - Star Wars

I repeat: NERD ALERT. He needs an excuse to buy a lightsaber and carry it around for the evening quoting that frickin “if you’re not with me, then you’re my enemy” thing. also he gets high key flustered seeing you dressed as his childhood crush, especially in that white outfit 😳 ((padme amidala supremacy🧎)) side note, this is actually not a couples costume because it also includes sapnap as obi-wan lmao. he is only slightly less nonplussed than you are

bonus: mans has the nerve to joke about going as shrek and fiona and then refuse to follow through smh

Sapnap:

I don’t know shit about anime so now neither does y/n even tho realistically sapnap would insist on anime costumes but anyway

Snorlax and Charmander - Pokemon

It was your idea, and admittedly sort of a cop out. you were busy ok??? but when you brought home the pokemon onesies, Sap was 100% on board. A fun halloween costume and he got to be cosy all evening?? how could he say no. Plus he thought you looked unfairly adorable with your lil flame tail and and literal sweater paws. can’t stop putting his arms round you all evening :))) 🔥

Fred and Daphne - Scooby Doo

mans agrees to go as fred and daphne so he can see you in a mini skirt send tweet

but fr it’d be cute as heck and i can see some of your friends going as the rest of the scooby gang (karl and tina as shaggy and velma? iconic??) dream might even let you put a scooby doo collar on patches for photos 🐾

George:

Flint Lockwood and Sam Sparks - Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs

Basically i think George isn’t super into costumes so the idea has to be reasonably low-key if you want to convince him. this one was perfect bc it really only involved wrestling the boy into a lab coat and attacking his hair with some extra strength hold gel (win win bc you get to have your hands in his hair and he gets to have your hands in his hair 😌) but the effect was still very much there. meanwhile you’re stuck hot glueing pipe cleaners and pom-poms to an umbrella to make a spaghetti and meatballs twister reference prop so your costume isn’t just a blue cardigan lol. george is very nice about the ugly ass homemade prop that you end up throwing in a skip after three drinks :3

Karl:

Ashitaka and San - Princess Mononoke

Karl would basically be down for any Ghibli duo but this is the one i can see him pulling off (as much as i would die to see him in a howl pendragon wig). You guys would put together the costumes yourself (couples crafts 😍) and they come out so cuuuute. I don’t normally include photos but these are the exact vibes i’m envisioning:

Cosmo and Wanda - Fairly OddParents

Iconic and easy to pull off with some simple colour coding. you get those spray cans of non-permanent hair dye from like claire’s and get it all over your dang hands help each other apply it. you also paint each other’s nails and you make little gold crowns and wands with stars on the end. actually adorable vibes by the time you’re done. highly instagrammable and you keep a polaroid of the two of you in costume in your phone case 🥺

also i think he’d wanna go as sword art online characters maybe? but i haven’t played it so

Quackity:

Lightning McQueen and Sally Carrera - Cars

ffsjfkdlfhb somehow he convinced you. i don’t know how. but now your face is smeared with blue face paint and Q has lightning bolts on his cheeks and the whole thing is so unbelievably cursed. it’s smudged before you even leave the house from the tears of laughter streaming down your faces, and you’re both just collapsed on the bathroom floor struggling to catch your breath and starting back up laughing every time you look at the other’s face

Gomez and Morticia Addams - The Addams Family

Last year he made you go as a blue cartoon car so now you can force him to don an outrageous fake moustache and pinstripe suit for the evening :) low-key he actually looked handsome asl though (you were mad your revenge plot kinda backfired tbh). if it helps you’ve got the sauce as morticia and mans is overwhelmed to say the least 😌

#mcyt x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #sapnap x reader #georgenotfound x reader #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader #dream x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt hcs #mcyt x you

497 notes · View notes

eliemo · 4 years ago

Text

Something Long and Stupid

Summary: Remus knew he wasn't a good person. He was Deadpool, a killer for hire, "the merc with a mouth." He'd come to terms with what he was a long time ago. He didn't need Spiderman to remind him of what he was.

He didn't need Virgil to come into his life and make him question it for the first time

TWs: Violence, threats, strong language, blood

Notes: Superhero au, Spiderman Virgil, Deadpool Remus, enemies to lovers Dukexiety

New project that nobody asked for. I know I should finish my ongoing wips before starting a new one but I do not control the hyperfixation.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

When Virgil kicked Remus in the chest and sent him hurtling off the building into an active construction site, Remus found himself thinking about how they’d met.

Honestly, it hadn’t started off much better. Spiderman was a piece of shit who thought he was so much better than Remus just because Deadpool killed some people every now and then.

Well, that had been the first impression anyway. They hadn’t exactly started off on the right foot.

Remus had been doing his job, thank you very much, he was a mercenary for hire, it wasn’t like he’d been going after a gang of strangers for fun. And he certainly hadn’t needed help.

There were three of them and one of him, just some standard thugs that had been causing a bit too much trouble for people with more money to spend, their names already set to pay for Remus’s rent this month.

He’d unsheathed his swords, (guns would make it over too quickly, and what was the fun in that?) letting the assholes get their hopes up by grabbing for their own weapons and then—

Then all his targets were all suddenly covered in webs, firmly plastered to the nearest wall with threats and screaming that Remus ignored in favor of whirling around, slicing the air with his blades.

“Hey, what the fuck?”

Spiderman was half hanging off the wall, stepping back down onto the ground when he saw Remus staring. “You’re welcome,” he called, like Remus had asked for him to come in ruin is fun.

Remus scoffed, because rude. You don’t just steal someone’s kill like that. But at least they were immobilized now, which meant shooting them and getting the day over with would be a piece of cake. The webs weren’t budging no matter how frantically they kicked.

He yanked his gun from his belt to do exactly that, only to have another web (seriously, fucking spider webs had no business being this strong) wrapped around his wrist, another pulling the pistol right out of his hand.

“Uh, motherfucker?” Remus took a step back, furiously grabbing at the lingering webs with his bare hands, grimacing at the way it clung to his leather. “Jeez, you want me to decapitate them instead?”

“They’re already down,” the asshole said, like Remus hadn’t noticed. “Back off, Deadpool.”

Remus didn’t have time to be surprised that Spiderman knew who he was, far too busy wanting to run over and punch him right in his stupid masked face. “Ok, clearly you don’t know my deal. Move it, Webs.”

“Then you don’t know mine,” he said, masked eye staring blankly from underneath the hood over his suit. “I’m not letting you murder defenseless people.”

“They’re not fucking defenseless.”

“They’re not breaking free,” the spider said. “The cops will take whoever I capture for them. Call them and leave.”

Remus scoffed and tightened his hold on his sword, wondering if he really wanted to get into a fight with Spiderman in the middle of the afternoon. It was only fucking Tuesday, he was too tired to deal with this shit. “And they can take them in body bags. Give me my gun back.”

Remus was a good foot taller than him, and loaded with about three times as many weapons, but the masked asshole didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. God, he was probably smirking under his suit.

“I finished the fight, I get to decide.” He turned around, his back to Remus like he didn’t even care. “Maybe try to be faster next time.”

“Oh, fuck right off with that,” Remus snarled. “Fuck off. Fuck off and suck a fat dick, you fucking—”

“Either you walk away, or I leave you tied to the wall.”

“Kinky,” Remus smirked, even if Spiderman couldn’t see it under his own mask. “But fat fucking luck. No way in hell am I letting some bitch in black and purple spanx steal my kill.”

Spiderman actually had the audacity to sigh, like he was dealing with a petulant child. “Nobody’s getting killed.”

“You know, I’ve got more than one gun,” Remus said, mentally calculating how fast he’d have to move to shoot every single person in this alleyway. “I’m playing nice. Get out of my way.”

“You’re not shooting someone who can’t fight back.”

“Oh, are you the moral police?” Jesus, Remus wanted to punch this guy. “Man, fuck off. It’s none of your business.”

He grabbed for his other gun, only to immediately feel something wrap around his waist and legs, yanking hard and lifting him into the air. He shouted something he really hoped no pedestrians were close by enough to overhear, doing his absolute best to give Spiderman his coldest glare as he was slammed against the brick wall, upside down, held firmly down by fucking spider webs.

“Oh, you bitch.”

Remus twisted and thrashed, and while he could feel the webs giving way already it would be a good few minutes until he was free. That fucking asshole.

“Next time I see you I’m cutting off your spider ass and hanging it on my fucking wall!”

Spiderman ignored him, and Remus watched as he grabbed the thugs Remus was supposed to kill and one by one swung them out of the alleyway before disappearing completely.

That whore.

It hadn’t been long, unfortunately, until they’d met again, and Remus had of course tried to punch the asshole right in the head.

They’d ended up on the same rooftop, which was even worse because Remus came up here to relax. Spiderman had just been sitting there, legs dangling over the edge as he watched over the city, looking almost peaceful with his hood down and the sun beating against his mask.

So Remus had immediately vaulted over and swung at him as hard as he possibly could.

And then he’d missed, because of course Spidey had to have fucking inhuman reflexes, which was bullshit. He’d ducked away and managed to jump to Remus’s side before Remus even registered that his fist had met nothing but air.

“Can you leave?” Spiderman asked, so unbothered it only made Remus angrier. “I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Making sure people don’t get killed,” he said, moving back towards the ledge. “You should try it sometime.”

Remus crossed his arms, watching the vigilante in disbelief. “You get that I’m a mercenary, right? You’re surprised by the killing thing?”

“I’m not,” he said, and he still wouldn’t even look at Remus. “But I’m stopping it when I can.”

“Oh? So you’re ruining a small business?” Remus threw his arms out and turned towards the ledge overlooking the bustling city. “Spiderman doesn’t support small businesses, you heard it here first, folks!”

Spidey was staring at him now, and Remus had a sneaking suspicion he would not appreciate the look he was being given if the mask was taken off. Asshole.

“I don’t support killing people, Deadpool.”

“Sucks,” Remus said. “You should’ve stayed out of the way. If I wasn’t so kind and generous I would have shot you.”

“You mean if you hadn’t been tied up and defenseless,” Spiderman corrected, and Remus was right back to wanting to punch him. “You’re lucky I didn’t get you arrested.”

Remus dramatically put a hand to his chest and gasped, walking along the roof’s edge. “Oh no. What ever would I have done? I’d be defeated! My one weakness. C ops.”

Spidey didn’t respond, but he did get up and move away when Remus got a bit too close to where he was perched on the ledge. Ha .

“Maybe I should have called the cops on you, Spidey,” Remus added. “They’d finally catch the masked menace. Some jail time might humble you.”

“I’d be fine,” Spiderman said. “I wasn’t the one tied to a wall.”

Remus hopped back onto the roof with a growl, grimacing at the reminder of how long it had taken to get those webs off his suit. “Yeah, don’t do that shit again. Seriously, I can and will end you.”

“Get in line behind half the city, Deadpool.”

Remus scoffed, something he apparently did a lot of whenever talking to Spiderman, and followed him across the rooftop. “Man, your ratings are shit. At least I don't act like a hero.”

It was hard to see, barely noticeable, but Remus saw Spidey’s shoulders tense, just a bit. Apparently he’d struck a nerve. Good.

“I don’t act like anything,” he said, and it was just a little less cocky than before. “I’m just trying to help people.”

“Oh, so you’re playing hero.” Remus grinned, moving until he was crouched right in front of the vigilante. “Ooh ooh, let me guess...you’re in college. You’re ...22. Maybe 23, or 24. You got these big bad powers one day and figured you were the only one in the whole wide world who could protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves.”

Spidey didn’t answer, just looked at him with that blank, unamused stare, so Remus continued. “Or were you born with them? Doesn’t seem like it, you’ve only popped up in the last two or three years—”

“It’s none of your business,” Spiderman cut in, and Remus smirked. “And you’re wrong, for the record.”

“Oh I am, am I?” Remus asked, amused despite himself. “If nobody wants you, why are you even trying?”

Spidey was tense now, and doing a real bad job of hiding it. “Maybe I don’t give a shit what people think.”

“Right.” Remus didn’t need to see the guy’s face to know that wasn’t it. “You do realize how much money you could make with those powers, right?”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I’m fine doing what I’m doing.”

Remus looked him over, he’d seen spidey all over newspapers and on TV before, but this was the first time actually talking to him in person, besides the other day when the asshole had ruined his afternoon. Honestly, it was kinda underwhelming. He expected the suit to be higher tech, at least.

“Are you broke?” he asked. “You seem broke. I could make you a way better mask, by the way. It looks like shit.”

“I’m sure,” Spidey said, completely ignoring his generous offer. Rude. “And how much do you get paid for killing people?”

“A lot.”

Spiderman hummed nonchalantly, no longer looking at Remus. “Well, I’m glad it’s worth it.”

“It is! I sleep like a baby in my king sized bed.” And yeah, that was a little bit of a lie. Barely.. He wasn’t living that luxuriously, New York was expensive as shit, but based on his tech he was way better off than Webs.

“That’s wonderful,” Spiderman said and damn, apparently the masked menace was capable of being a sarcastic bastard as well as a cocky asshole. “You done pretending now? Can I go?”

“I’m not pretending anything.”

“Yeah, ok.” Spiderman was back to sounding arrogant, and Remus couldn’t remember why they were talking instead of fighting to the death. “I know you sleep like shit.”

Remus actually laughed, humorless and cold, because what the fuck?

“Oh yeah?”

“Nobody kills for a living if their life is going great,” Spidey said. “What horrible trauma pushed you to that decision?”

Oh, this motherfucker. This piece of shit. He was so dead when Remus could catch him off guard.

“Nobody puts on a costume and fights crime when half the city wants him dead if his life is going great, either.” Remus smirked, moving to try to get Spidey to look at him again. “At least I get money for it. No student loan debt at 26 is pretty nice.”

He probably shouldn’t have given the vigilante that was quickly turning into his sworn enemy his age but eh. What was he gonna do, kill him? Remus didn’t stay dead.

“That’s great,” Spiderman said. “And all it cost was people’s lives.”

“Yep!” Remus hoped it came out cheery enough to piss him off a little more. “Think of it this way, Spidey. They’re gonna die anyway.”

Spiderman immediately straightened up and stalked to the other end of the rooftop, clearly wanting the conversation to end. Mission accomplished. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s true!” he called, just to drive home the fuck off a bit more. “Someone would have gotten to them eventually.”

“They’re still people, Deadpool.”

Remus shrugged. “Good people don't get hits put on them.”

“Maybe not,” the vigilante agreed. “But good people don’t murder in exchange for money, either.”

Remus barked another laugh at that, more genuine this time because... yeah? Duh. “No shit. I never fucking said I was a good person.”

“You’re lucky you haven't killed anyone innocent yet.” And goddammit there was that ‘hero’ shit again that made Remus want to throw up. He’d just been starting to have fun, too.

“It’s still not your business.”

“It will be,” Spidey said, perched on the ledge in a way that would make Remus dizzy if he cared. “Stick to killing criminals and we'll be fine.”

“Oh?” Remus followed, smirking in a way that would probably get him punched if he took off his mask. “Are you gonna come get me if I’m not good?”

“That’s my job.”

“Aw, don’t worry,” Remus teased. “I’ll wear something sexy for you.”

“Gross.”

“Love you too, Spider Babe!”

Spidey scoffed, responding with a gloved middle finger when Remus winked. Remus watched a web shoot from his wrist, and suddenly Spiderman was gone, swinging across New York rooftops, leaving Remus to try to figure out how he was getting down.

Remus honestly hadn’t expected to see him again. He was fucked in the head, but he didn’t have any plans to lose control and start killing everyone in sight. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t a villain Spiderman needed to spend time tracking down. New York was busy enough for both of them already.

He did plan on chucking the nearest heavy object at him if he ever saw Spidey swinging past. That never ended up happening. Not that he cared. He didn’t miss him.

He expected to catch a glimpse of him eventually, maybe close enough to yell a few lighthearted threats or call him names, but nothing as entertaining as the argument on the roof.

What he hadn’t expected, was to run right into the masked menace while walking home in the middle of the night.

Remus had just finished a job, something standard and quick, and after wiping the blood from his blades he’d decided to take the long way home. The sun had set, the night air was crisp and relaxing, and it helped Remus forget about the blood stains he needed to wash away.

He’d been cutting through sidestreets, mentally mapping out how to get back to his place. He turned a corner into an alleyway, and—

And there was Spiderman, hunched over himself and leaned against the wall like he’d been using it for support, shaking, gasping, and completely drenched in deep red blood.

Remus froze, and Spidey did too as soon as he registered Deadpool standing just a few paces away, the two of them staring silently for what felt like an eternity.

“Dude,” Remus said when he found his voice. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Spiderman was clutching at his chest, black and purple suit barely able to hide the red stains, leaned heavily against the brick wall as he watched Remus warily. “Nothing.”

“Don’t be stupid. Whose blood is that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he snapped, and his voice was wavering. “Keep walking.”

Remus took a step forward, frowning at the way the vigilante went tense against the wall. He ignored it. “Whose blood is it?” It came out more of a command than a question this time.

“Mostly mine,” Spiderman said, and Remus could see it pooling around his gloves now that he was closer. “It’s fine.”

“Why’re you bleeding?”

“None of your business. Go home.”

Remus tried to get a better look from where he stood, well aware that approaching might not be the best idea right now. “Was it a gun or a knife?”

“It was none of your business and you need to go away.”

Remus watched him, incredulous, because the idiot was barely standing and losing way too much blood way too quickly, and he was pretty sure Spiderman didn’t have Remus’s whole immortality deal.

“You really want to bleed out on the street like some street thug?”

The vigilante hesitated, and Remus listened to the way his breathing was turning into awful sounding wheezes. “I’m...not going to bleed out. I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah?” Remus challenged, probably a bit more aggressively than was needed for someone who looked like they were about to keel over. “Walk over to me then.”

He’d expected the lack of response, but even though the eyes built into the suit were practically lifeless (he really should get him some more advanced goggles. He’d be a lot more approachable if his eyes weren’t so blank) Remus could still see his whole body tense in fear.

“No,” he said, low and trembling. “Fuck off.”

“Spidey, this isn’t a joke.” Jesus, that was a lot of blood. “You’re gonna bleed out.”

“And you can throw a party—”

“Fucking come here.” He hadn’t meant to snap, but he wasn’t going to just stand here bickering with the city’s hero until he dropped dead. But Spidey still shook his head, pressed even further against the wall now, and Remus sighed. “Fine.”

Remus took a few steps forward, initially planning on prying his arms away to get a better look at the wound, but Spiderman flinched back, trying to scramble away like Remus was coming at him with a weapon.

Well, Remus supposed that made sense. He had threatened to kill him a couple times last time they spoke.

“Chill it, Spidey.” Remus crouched a bit, suddenly painfully aware of how much taller he was, carefully holding his hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he shot back. Which...yeah, fair. “I know you want to.”

“Does it look like I have a knife in my hand?” Remus asked. “No. Chill out and let me see.”

Spidey didn’t pull away when Remus took his shoulders, but he did flinch as soon as Deadpool touched him, probably involuntarily. Remus ignored it, focusing instead on figuring out where the blood was coming from. It was almost impossible in the dark lighting, especially up against the black suit.

“It’s...not that bad,” Spiderman rasped. “Seriously.”

Remus wasn’t buying that for a second. “What happened?”

“I was stupid, that’s what happened,” Spidey said, arms still wrapped firmly around himself. “It...there were five of them and one of them got lucky with a knife.”

“Jesus, fuck.” Remus pulled back, trying to figure out what to do. “You are stupid. Where?”

He only hesitated a moment. “Uh, my chest. I heal fast.”

“Jesus. How fast?”

Spiderman shrugged, then obviously regretted it when it pulled at the stab wound. “Hopefully fast enough,” he said. “I’ll be fine tomorrow or I’ll be dead.”

“Jesus,” Remus said again, because what the fuck else was he supposed to say? “Sit down. Jesus Christ.”

Spidey thankfully did as he said, though Remus suspected it had more to do with the fact that he couldn’t keep himself standing anymore rather than actually following instructions.

He wasn’t fighting anymore, almost limp as Remus took his wrists and moved them to his sides, but he did look like he was ready to bolt the second Deadpool made one wrong move.

Like he wouldn’t fall right on his face and hurt himself worse if he tried.

Remus could see the source of the blood now, a deep gash across his upper chest that had apparently sliced the black and purple suit like butter, still gushing crimson with each passing second.

Shit.

“Alright, uh.” This wasn’t his expertise in the slightest. Other than digging out some bullets, Remus didn't have to tend to his wounds. “I don’t think I have any fabric or...oh, your hoodie. Hand it over.”

Spiderman stared, and if he didn’t hurry up and get with the program Remus was going to knock him out and handle this himself. “Why?”

“Because you’re bleeding out. Give it.”

Spidey at least had the sense to listen and carefully peel the hoodie away from his suit, sliding it down his arms even as his gloved hands shook violently. Remus couldn’t help but wince at the noise Spiderman tried to choke back, because that had to hurt like a bitch.

“Maybe, like...lay down?” Remus suggested. “Yeah, do that. It’ll help.”

Spidey still hesitated, even as the blood continued to flow and he started to slide down against his will. “I...need to see what you’re doing.”

Remus sighed, bunching up the hoodie and pressing it firmly against the wound, ignoring the strangled gasp that came from the vigilante. Blood was quickly soaking through the cloth, and Remus just pressed harder.

“I’m just putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding,” Remus said. “If I wanted to kill you I’d leave you here. If it stops bleeding you’ll heal, right?”

The only answer he got was another wet, trembling gasp when Remus pushed harder, Spiderman’s blood soaking into his gloves. It took a second for him to realize he was grasping at Remus’s wrists, his hold weak.

“H-hopefully,” Spidey managed, and he really didn’t sound great. His eyes were drooping, and Remus figured the biggest danger right now was letting him fall asleep. “Or, you know. I’ll die.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Remus said without thinking. “I’m gonna stop the bleeding, you’re gonna heal with whatever weird powers you have, and then you’ll be less of a careless idiot next time.”

A few moments passed without an answer, and for once Remus wasn’t entirely sure how to fill the silence. The only sound between them was Spiderman’s labored, ragged breathing, which at least sounded a bit less shaky and faint as Remus continued to press down.

“What are you doing?” Spidey asked eventually, catching Remus completely off guard with the stupid question. “Why are you...trying to help?”

Remus wasn’t trying to do anything. He was helping. The city’s beloved hero would have been dead five minutes ago if he hadn’t managed to interrupt Remus’s perfectly nice, peaceful walk.

He hadn’t even really thought about it. Remus was an asshole, a murderer for a living, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t the guy who was going to leave New York’s savior to bleed out in an alleyway.

Besides, he’d been the first person Remus had been able to have a somewhat entertaining conversation with in months.

“Somebody’s gotta save everyone,” he eventually settled on, still pressing hard against the wound. “And I refuse to be the city’s only mouthy vigilante.”

Another beat of silence, and for a moment Remus thought he might have fallen asleep. “I don’t...save anyone. And I’m not mouthy.”

“You do,” Remus argued. “And you are.”

“I don’t,” he snapped, and at least he didn’t seem inclined to argue about the mouthy thing. “You do your job better than I do.”

Remus took a moment to look over the bleeding hero. He was weak and trembling, and probably dangerously pale and clammy under that suit. The blood flow had definitely slowed, but it hadn't stopped. There was a good chance he wouldn’t remember a damn thing Remus said to him tonight.

And if he did, it’s not like he really gave a shit, anyway.

“I’m a mercenary,” Remus said. “Anyone can kill someone. It takes something a lot stronger to save them. So shut up and stop being self deprecating.”

Spiderman shuddered when Remus carefully peeled back the bloody hoodie, leaning in to get a better look at where they were at. Either he was just that good at fixing stab wounds, or Spidey’s healing powers were gradually starting to kick in.

Remus decided to go with the former. He deserved it.

“I got someone killed tonight,” Spidey said, quiet and unbearably sad. “She...she died because I wasn’t fast enough, and I didn’t—”

“You can’t save everyone.”

The vigilante pulled his hands away from Remus’s wrists, like he’d just realized he was holding them. “I should have tried harder.”

Remus sighed. “You tried hard enough. You did fine.”

That was apparently the end of the conversation, Spiderman falling back into silence as Remus went back to making sure he didn’t start bleeding all over the place again. He didn’t have anything on him to properly clean it up, he wasn’t sure he even owned a first-aid kit, but Spidey’s breathing was starting to even out, and after about ten minutes or so the blood stopped flowing completely.

“You, uh...you good?”

“I’ll be fine,” Spiderman said, and it didn’t sound like a desperate lie this time. He still looked like shit, but he was able to slowly sit up on his own. “Not dying this time. Just...still hurts.”

They were plunged back into silence, slightly less tense than before but no less uncomfortable. Remus eventually relinquished his hold on the hoodie when Spidey was able to carefully take it from him.

Right, he was fine now. Remus didn’t need to stay, it wasn’t his business anymore. It hadn’t been his business to begin with.

“I...owe you,” Spiderman said, almost like it was strange for him to admit. “So, thank y—”

“Don’t thank me, Spidey.” God, this had been a mistake, hadn’t it? “Seriously. Just buy me a pizza sometime and we’ll call it square.”

Spiderman stared for second, unsteady hands holding his own hood to his chest, but the small laugh that escaped at least sounded genuine, and no longer quite so pained.

“Ok,” he said. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Remus hesitated before standing, not really sure if it would be more rude to leave or stay at this point. Spiderman probably didn’t want a mercenary for hire standing over him while he was wounded, whether Remus had saved his life or not.

Remus was still just as far from a hero as the villains Spiderman fought, and both of them had a reputation to keep.

“You sure you’re ok?” Remus asked. “I can like...stay. Or call you an ambulance or...something.”

“I’m good,” Spidey said, sitting up with a small hiss of pain until he was propped up against the wall, breathing still heavy. “You stopped the bleeding, I’ll live. You can go home, Deadpool.”

“Right.” He carefully stepped around the vigilante, still keeping a close eye on his chest to make sure the bleeding didn’t start again. “Just don’t die after all my hard work. My gloves are fucking soaked.”

Spiderman scoffed, but it was more good natured and light than it had been the last time they talked. “You got it.”

Remus kept walking down the alley, only turning around once more before turning the corner at the end. “And don’t forget my pizza, Spidey!”

#spiderman virgil #deadpool remus #superhero au #spiderman au #spideypool #dukexiety #virgil sanders #remus sanders #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends #violence tw #sex jokes #remus being remus #blood tw #injury #sanders sides #fanfiction #writing

198 notes · View notes

innuendostudios · 4 years ago

Text

Thoughts on... some funny games

[no spoilers to speak of]

Thoughts on Lair of the Clockwork God

The wisdom of the gaming cognoscenti insists that comedy is hard to do in video games. Having grown up with Monkey Island and Zork, I've never found this convincing. But one true thing is this: it's hard to write about comedic games. The ineffability of humor is hard enough to describe in less-interactive media; I can't even explain to my partner why Gretchen saying "I met January Jones once!" on You're the Worst busted me up, and they were sitting right next to me when she said it. Throw in the "you had to be there" nature of the player's active participation and I lose myself in a cornfield. The thing I found hilarious might come a beat to early for you, or not at all, or not be funny in text like it is in gameplay.

Why did I like Lair of the Clockwork God? It made me laugh.

The premise and particulars are a lot of "that could go either way." Ben and Dan - stars of Ben There, Dan That and Time Gentleman, Please! - have returned. Ben is still an adventure game star, but Dan has adopted platforming mechanics in an attempt to get with the times. So playing the game involves switching back and forth between a character who can leap across canyons but can't pick up items or talk to people, and one who can combine inventory but can't climb over a 3-pixel rock.

Does that sound potentially funny? Potentially grating? Yes to both!

The plot centers around our heroes trying to save the world from several simultaneous apocalypses and having to teach human emotions to a supercomputer in order to do so. (Don't ask.) These means, rather like Ben There, Dan That, traipsing through a number of fantasy worlds (read: computer simulations) until the correct emotion is provoked. This requires cross-genre cooperation: finding ways to get Ben to areas only Dan can access, getting Dan new power ups by combining objects in Ben's inventory (an act Dan insists on calling "crafting").

The best bits are at these intersections, when Dan's platforming is the puzzliest and Ben's puzzles take advantage of Dan's skills. Periodically the game gives you a Dan-centric platforming gauntlet the controls are NOT precise nor pleasant enough for, or a Ben-only moon logic puzzle that leaves you googling the walkthrough.

But I liked it! A lot. The genre-hopping seems to have invigorated the developers, Ben Ward and Dan Marshall. I discussed my favorite joke in Ben There, Dan That (in what is probably the least popular video I've ever made that wasn't asking for money), but was also dismayed that the game was never that clever again. But this one is, several times over! Progression here involves cheating your way to a better respawn zone, goofing around in game menus, exploiting "glitches," exiting out and loading up entirely other games. There is a lot of poking and prodding at what a game of this nature can or should be.

But, honestly? The only real selling point is... it was funny. The humor is as anarchic and metatextual as in previous titles, but it feels good-natured in a way BT,DT didn't. And there are, here and there, little bits of meat on its bones - the characters wondering if, as a couple thirtysomething white guys, the world hasn't left them behind, no longer comfortable with the juvenile humor of their youth but not really understanding the youth of today, but having not yet fully escaped the mentalities they used to hold. (There's an unspoken humor to Dan's idea of "modern" gameplay being 2D platforming mechanics, especially at a time when adventure games are significantly more popular than on his last outing; this is a good joke whether or not it's intentional.)

Also: this game contains the most poignant urinating-on-a-grave puzzle in gaming history, and you may quote me on that.

Having finished it months ago, I can't even remember what all the gags were that tickled me at the time. Comedy fades from memory faster than drama or frustration. Mostly I just remember having a good time.

Thoughts on The Darkside Detective

Here's a hook: sometime after the mayhem ends in Ghostbusters, The Exorcist, Evil Dead 2, or some other paranormal blockbuster that you watched over and over in the 90's until the VHS wore out, some overworked detective has to come into your town and piece together what the hell happened.

This is his story.

It's a good gag, and the devs wring every drop from it. Existing in a world where these things are commonplace and you have to fit them into some notion of "police procedure" is just funny. Like, it's one thing to have a running gag where you keep observing the moon in outdoor scenes, commenting, with increasing hostility, that its behavior is suspicious (it has been present at multiple crime scenes); it's a slightly different thing when, given the things you've encountered, the moon being the Big Bad is actually somewhat possible.

The game is divided into six main cases and three bonus DLC missions (which come included in the base game now, and the third of which is the proper ending/setup for the sequel). You are the cop tasked to deal with The Other Side - and, when The Other Side bleeds into our own world, its cops have to deal with you. You have a sidekick with a mental maturity of about 6, which I guess makes you the straight man. (You have to grade on a curve to find a straight man in this game.) And you solve tasks like rounding up escaped gremlins or finding an AWOL lake monster all juxtaposed with mundane problems like inter-office squabbles and having not bought your Christmas presents early enough. It's (pleasantly) lo-res and sparsely isolated, so the dialogue and premise do most of the work, but they are ably up to the task.

The gameplay... not so much. I'm an adventure game lifer, so I can put up with a lot of nonsense. It's mostly straightforward inventory puzzles and occasional minigames. Most of the puzzles are fine enough. As the cases progress, things get more involved, and the DLCs especially involve some awful moon logic. And the minigames are not above using that same jumping peg puzzle you've solved in a dozen other games already. So gameplay ranges from serviceable to irritating, but it mostly exists to string together funny lines and silly images. (Christmas mall elves being secretly in service to Krampus - that's the kind of thing we're talking about here.) You won't feel much guilt for opening up a walkthrough; the puzzles aren't why you're here.

The sequel has just been released, and both games are cheap, so check them out if you feel like smiling.

Thoughts on The Procession to Calvary

It's rare for a game to be hilarious to look at.

The Procession to Calvary takes its name from the Bruegel painting. It also takes all it's graphics from Renaissance oil paintings, and the designer delights in making famously rendered heroes and religious icons steal, stab, fart, and swear.

A strong Terry-Gilliam-with-After-Effects vibe is what we're describing.

You play as a lady knight from a war that's just ended, which sucks for you because, in this age of peace, you're no longer authorized to kill. And killing's, like, you're whole thing. But the one person your new, pacifist king wouldn't stop you from killing is the warlord you just deposed, who fled to the South. So you embark on a nonsensical journey to seek out the one human on Earth you are authorized to kill, because killing is just The. Best. Ever.

Of the three games we're discussing, this is the most overtly cheeky, and, at times, the most scatological. I could've done with a bit less scatology, if I'm being honest, but the cheekiness is very winning. As with Lair of the Clockwork God, a lot of jokes could go either way - a field of people being tortured and a woman on a blanket selling commemorative torture merch could be painfully try-hard. But something about the victims being seemingly everyone ever crucified or broken on the wheel in a famous painting, and having them writhe on their crosses in a way that is both gruesome and goofy, and having a cacophonous soundtrack of their screams and moans that you will now imagine every time you look at one of those elegantly elegiac paintings from now on... it works. That the music score is being played by an extremely jaunty piper who dances behind you just out of sword's reach as you traverse the field pushes it over the top.

Oh, and the puzzles, while never hair-pullingly obtuse, will leave you stumped at times. Push past that to get the proper ending, but, if you're sick of trying, you can, at any point, just start stabbing your way through problems. Which, again: it takes a very deft touch to make "protagonist resorts to violence" actually funny rather than lazy and obvious. And maybe, in another game, the perfect timing of every animation, the clever quips, the careful contrast of cathedrals and high-society music halls with gleeful sword-swinging wouldn't be enough. But something about it being frickin' Renaissance paintings carries it the last mile.

This is probably the basest game of the three, but it's also the one that made me giggle the most. Having a BFA that required several art history classes may have something to do with it. But check this thing out.

#capsule review #darkside detective #lair of the clockwork god #procession to calvary

99 notes · View notes

thebindingofpillo · 3 years ago

Photo

Barachiel (“God’s blessing”, I think their name is also spelled as Baraqiel, but Italian Wikipedia tells me that’s another angel, while English Wikipedia says they’re the same *insert so what is the truth meme here*) is the angel tasked with distributing the blessings of God on the people on Earth. Their attributes are the rose (in Byzantine Catholic and Eastern Ortodox churches), the staff and the bread basket (in Roman Catholicism). I’m not gonna dwell too much on their traditional interpretations bc it’s almost midnight and I really wanna talk about her so strap in

Barachiel is… hotheaded to say the least. Always the first to spring to action, with a really short fuse, and a one-strike-and-you’re-out attitude. Remember when I said I didn’t want Michael to just be a heavenly cop? That’s because it was her all along.

She was the last one to join the archangels, way after the Nephilim and the flood and all that. She never had a real role in all the action, and the stress of being the “new kid” has her compensate in ways that aren’t really… the best. Like her complete mistrust of Uriel, who she’s sure is just playing the long con and will eventually lead the legions of Hell into Heaven, how can the others not see that?! Once you’ve fallen you can never come back (fun fact: while writing this I found that Enoch mentions Barachiel being a fallen Watcher too, then they repented and became an archangel, so kill me now I guess).

Giong back to her, Barachiel doesn’t really get along with all the others, nor does she tries to. Sealtiel and Gabriel still try to reach out to her, and Raphael doesn’t count since he basically likes everyone, but she has demons to smite, she doesn’t have time for friends! Or jokes, for that matter. This has gained her the nickname of Michael Jr. but only from Uriel (and sometimes Gabriel and Sealtiel too but shh) and only when Michael is not around.

Speaking of Raphael, we’re gonna talk about their relationship now, but first a little tangent.

Enoch describes Barachiel as a Seraph, commander of little less than 500.000 legions of angels in Heaven, which is pretty cool, BUT I shall exercise my right to disregard his canon and make my own. Since the rose is a symbol often tied to the choir of Virtues, I’ve decided my Barachiel is going to be a Virtue as well.

Anyway, to the Virtues, Raphael is often considered their leader, so this means he’s Barachiel’s boss! Hooray. She’s actually okay with this, but only because she thinks she can “show him the right path”. The right path being the one to smite demons and punish sinners left and right. She’s all too fond of reminding him of what a fierce and ruthless warrior he was, slaying thousands of Nephilim in his heyday (and often triggering painful memories for him). She thinks his new occupation as a healer is nothing short of a waste, and just wishes he was more like Michael, always sword in hand.

Truth to be told, her assigned role is not something she’s too fond of. She doesn’t really see herself as someone who should be in charge of blessings (very few are deserving of them in her eyes anyway). She should be guarding the gate, with Michael! (yeah, the way I’m writing her, she seems to idolize Michael to a… worrying degree. This could work, but I don’t want it to be stalkerish, so let’s just say she tries her best to impress him). This however often causes her to butt heads with the others (and not just Uriel, who doesn’t like her at all), they are lenient to a degree (she’s the youngest one after all) but still think she should dedicate more time to her actual job instead of training for an impending war.

This is everything I have for her atm. I should probably make a big post with all their personalities listed, but right now I’m just happy I managed to finish all of them! I’m gonna go to bed now byeeeeee

#tboi #tboi oc #oc barachiel #pillart

8 notes · View notes

karimac · 3 years ago

Text

...in the details, Part 2

A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.

All relationships, at this point anyway, are platonic.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

A bit about the OC Kari

Part 1

All mistakes are my own.

Word count: 2,249

Before you ventured into Westview, a flight of birds overhead reminded you of Redwing and Sam. Poor Sam. That sixth sense you had told you that fight at the compound was going to lead you all into very weird places. And the first one left you very squarely not in the room once again.

This time it was Steve and Bucky being thick as thieves, and you and Sam were…making a sandwich run? Couldn’t exactly get GrubHub to make a delivery to an attack site, could you? Bruce did not want some driver with a cellphone putting video up on Snapchat. “How would that look?” he bemoaned as he worked on the time travel platform. “We’d be getting tourists left and right. I don’t need that.” So off you and Sam went.

“You know, you could just, you know,” Sam started to say as he waved his hands like he thought a wizard would do, “and just poof up a plate of stuff. Right? With extra food for Banner, of course. He inhales tacos like nobody’s business. Just ask Tic Tac.”

“Sam, what have I told all of you before? Magic is the transfer of energy and matter. No suitable food stuff means no sandwiches. I can’t just think about the deli counter at Wegman’s and make a sandwich and a side of coleslaw appear in my hand. So, we’ll order on the app and pick it up. Just like everyone else. Before I hit the button, any changes to your order?”

“No, it’s fine. But don’t tell me you’ve never done shit like that when you’ve had your back against it,” Falcon huffed as you went to the rental car you’d gotten earlier in the day. That, thank Heaven, was easy to get at the local but extremely small airport.

“I’ve killed small rodents and eaten them, and I don’t mean just rabbits. Snakes, too. And, well, birds of prey, like falcons,” you groaned as you started to get into the car, but you stopped and headed back to the passenger side. “And I know you hate my driving, so here you go,” you said as you handed Sam the keys. “Sorry it isn’t a Ferrari. I was lucky to get this Kia. They didn’t exactly have anything race course worthy.”

As Sam climbed in, he saw bags of gear in the back seat. “You pulling a Wanda? Need some me time away from all us testosterone jockeys? Cyborg is going to be pissed.”

“Bucky has other stuff to deal with, trust me,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “He does not need to add Crazy Old Broad to his growing list of things to do and people to take care of this week. I heard him talking to Steve…”

“You? Eavesdropping? You are human!” Sam smirked, but then he saw the comment had hit a nerve. “You know I was kidding, right?”

“I know you are,” you said as you swallowed hard. In reality, you were not exactly buying that last comment. Sam was a sweetheart, but his comment sounded like things Tony and Steve had said about you in the weeks before the Time Heist. It depended on the situation, but one or the other of them seemed to question you, your motives, your powers and what they could do, and, at times, your grasp on reality. You did have a connection to a goddess they couldn’t see. Blaming them for having those questions just was not in your wheelhouse. “And yeah, maybe I just need to go figure a few things out. You guys know how to get me back here if you need me.”

“Somehow I don’t think Steve, Bucky and I would look so great standing and screaming your name in the middle of a fight,” Sam noted as he finally turned the key in the ignition.

“Now who is having issues with gender roles?” you said with a very pronounced side glance. “Sam, we are all human. We all need a save now and then. Maybe you’ll never have to utter my name again after today, unless you guys can’t find something you think I hid? Thor will be back once he’s done exploring the universe, and you can always get him here fast if you have Strange find him. And Wong is just dying for his shot as a full time Avenger. We all know that! And I can go back and do, well, goddess stuff, I guess. And raise horses. Just, please, make sure no one drops the ball on Parker. He lost his parents and his uncle. Losing Tony will hit him harder than anyone likely expects. He’s a good kid. He just needs support and guidance. Now, want to get this thing moving, or do you want me to drive?”

“And have you antagonize the local cops by going Mach 1? No thank you!”

You had to laugh at that one. You did tend to floor it. A lot.

++++++++++

A short time later, you and Sam rolled back to the site Bruce had chosen to set up the time travel platform. After you two handed out all the food, you realized it was really time for you to get going. No, you didn’t have a train, plane or bus to catch or someone to meet. You just knew it was going to get harder to make the break the longer you stayed there.

“She’s pulling a Wanda on us,” Sam said as he finished off the last of the sweet tea he had grabbed at the deli where you’d gotten food. “I think it’s too much he-man macho stuff, but she won’t fess up to that.”

“Wilson, how many brothers did I have?” you asked as you cleaned up the trash from the table Bruce had borrowed from a local park that had been wrecked during the battle. It had a huge hole in the end, but hey, it was good enough for the moment.

“Eight,” Bucky replied before Sam got the chance. “Just don’t quiz me on all their names. I remember your twin, Branan, and the one who was the vampire. Ewan? Right?”

“Yup, that’s right,” you grinned at Buck. “And no quiz. Promise,” you said as you raised your left hand and crossed your heart with your right.

“Why are you leaving?” Bruce asked as he adjusted the sling on his still injured arm, putting extra emphasis on the word “are” as he uttered it. “We need all the help we can get.”

Bruce, heaven help him, was suddenly one of the last active OG Avengers standing on Earth. Thor was off finding himself with the Guardians, and no one could really begrudge him that. He needed time to heal, and you knew all too well that was not easy nor time limited. Clint had more or less retired again after Natasha’s sacrifice on Vormir. Steve was getting ready to take the stones back, but upon his return, he’d likely join up with Sam and Bucky again to root out any remaining Hydra cells. That left Bruce in a very different place this time around.

“Bruce, you don’t really need me being a head case. Trust me. You do not need me giving any news outlets ammunition to blast headlines that make the team look less than spotless. I need to go home, at least for a little while,” you replied, knowing full well you were not telling him or the others everything. “And as I reminded Sam, you guys can just call me, and I’ll be here. Just whisper my name. Or yell it. Whatever works. Text me! If it’s an emergency, and if I’m not in the middle of some new damned war on my end, I��ll come running. But I have a feeling you guys are going to be just fine. Hell, I’ll give you a blessing before I head out.”

Yeah. A blessing. More like the final nail in the coffin. The words to start the spell to make them forget you.

“Big guy, you first,” you said as you put your hands on Bruce’s injured right arm. “And no, I am doing this, Bruce. It won’t be a full healing, but it should speed things up. You got this, big guy. Biggest brain. Biggest heart. May you realize just how much this team was built with your sweat and tears as it was anyone else’s.”

“I can’t change your mind?” Bruce asked as he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye and pout a bit. “And I am not asking because you are likely the only one of us who can cook…”

“I’m pretty sure all of you guys can cook something. Maybe not a good Colcannon or a fine Dublin coddle, but you’ll survive. As for the cupcakes, you guys may need to get a bakery on speed dial,” you added with a laugh because you knew they’d make that bakery rich. The Avengers loved their sugary snacks.

“Just don’t bug my sister, Bruce,” Sam noted as he waited for you to come over to him. “I still remember asking why the Cupcake Lady had a sword that night when those demon things attacked near the tower. I never asked. Why the cupcakes?”

“And not why the demons or the sword?” you said as you nearly choked on your words. “You realize that was before Steve saw me at Peggy’s funeral. That night was truly a fluke, Sam. No one was supposed to see that side of me then. As for the cupcakes, they were my entry to your world. Gifts from a fan girl. They’re easy to carry, a synch to personalize when needed, and everyone can have their own without fighting,” you said with a grin as Sam shook his head. “What?”

“You sound like Sarah.”

“Then I am in good company. Tell her the good stuff you’ve told me all these years. The words of wisdom. The little jokes. The pep talks. Tell her often. A single mom with two boys needs that. Be there for her, and drag these guys to see her, too. It would do the boys a world of good to have all their uncles stop by. Now, Samuel,” you said as you gave him a hug, “remember to keep these guys flying right. And if the world drops opportunity in your lap, whatever it might be, do not look at it and push it away without a lot of thought. The world needs Sam Wilson, the hero with a heart.”

And now the hardest part of this good bye had you wiping tears from your eyes. “I know. I’m a big mush. Girls from Brooklyn would laugh at me for this, right? Sorry, but girls from Naas and Athy do cry sometimes. I’m going to miss you two lugs. A lot.”

“Lugs. Last time you called us that was in ’43,” Bucky said as he looked down at his feet for a minute. “Somehow Hydra missed that memory.”

“You’ll see us again,” Steve said as he turned briefly to see where the case with the stones was on the platform. “But this time, it better not take 70 years.”

As you looked at the best friends, something about their auras seemed off. They had been planning something when you almost walked in on their chat a few days ago. You had no idea what it was, and you suddenly didn’t want to hang around to find out what the next act was going to bring.

“Just…watch your back, Steve. From what Clint said about Vormir, that one is going to be tough. And Buck, whatever comes next, I’m rooting for you. Even if you can’t see me doing it.”

“You really don’t have to leave,” Bruce kept insisting as you hefted your backpack on your shoulder.

“Dr. Banner, do you really want to fight my demons after all this? I have enemies. You just haven’t seen them yet. Frankly, the only reason that Hydra didn’t grab me before I hooked up with the Howling Commandos was because I was pulled into another dimension by one of those enemies. It was only by some weird twist of fate that Peggy found me when she did. If the veil between worlds had not been so thin near that camp, I might never have made it back, or Hydra might have found me first. It was pure dumb luck.”

{{And, Heaven help me, part of it was these two lugs over here}} you thought as you turned to head to your car. Then you stopped. This was a lot harder than it had been any time before, but it was the curse of an immortal to have to keep moving on. “I wish you luck, joy and happiness. I wish you peace. And, if you are truly lucky, memories long enough to have little space to spare for the likes of me because they are filled with so much more! See you in my dreams, for now anyway, fellas.”

++++++++++

You rolled out of there before Steve started his mission to return the stones, and you got a text from Bruce hours later telling you everything that had happened. Steve not coming back as planned. Then an older version of Steve shows up, sitting on a bench near the platform, and he gives Sam the shield. Right in front of Bucky.

It was now weeks later. No. It was months later, and here you were staring up at the sign for Westview. You’d gotten out of your rental car so you could get a feeling for the area around this little town.

“You made it back,” a voice said behind you. “How are you, after all that mess with Wanda and that Agatha woman? She was a real piece of work.”

The person speaking to you was Dr. Darcy Lewis. Friend of Thor and Dr. Jane Foster. Why was she even here?

You couldn’t fully figure out what the hell she was talking about. You didn’t remember being here before. Yet, you knew who she was, and you had never met her before. Or at least you couldn’t remember meeting her, here or anywhere else.

“Apparently not as great as I thought I was,” you muttered as you winced again. “Dr. Lewis, how long ago was the blip?”

“Give or take a week, about six months ago,” she replied as you started to pace. “Why?”

“Shit. Not this again,” you hissed as you looked up at the sign once more. “I think I’m going to need your help. How much do you know about Celtic myths and Irish history, Dr. Lewis?”

17 notes · View notes