#but then it doesn’t because that would require me to actually approach them again or ask them to hang out or get their contact info

[idkhowtopickausername]

Been feeling especially lonely this week :(

[silveryclear]

MOJABI GHOST

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Ex Female Reader

CW: NSFW, Cunnilingus, Thigh and Knee Riding, Bilingual Dirty Talk, Penetration, Rough Sex, Needy, Desperate Sex, Mating Press, Cockwarming

Description: Miguel drops by your apartment after he can’t stand the silence of his penthouse. He misses you, and tonight, you’ll see just how much~

Translation done by yours truly~

Song: “MOJABI GHOST” by Tainy, ft. Bad Bunny

Smoking,

Drinking,

Fucking,

Pretending that I don’t think about you.

I don’t who I’m trying to kid,

For this feeling,

Won’t let me sleep.

And I wish,

I wish, that I could dream peacefully,

That I could dream about you.

Another night alone. Another night without you.

Miguel O'Hara looks over view of Nueva York while drinking from his third glass of whiskey on the rocks; rocks that have melted and diluted the drink that has been abandoned for thoughts about you.

The truth is that Miguel has abandoned many things because of his mind— the treacherous bitch does not stop thinking about you.

Who could ever stop thinking about you, is the question that he should be asking. But he doesn't. And he’s well aware why.

Because that would require him to accept the reality that he fucked up the only thing that had given him happiness and warmth after what had happened with his daughter. And once again, it’s something that he doesn’t allow himself to forgive.

At first, you were only a hindrance, an annoyance which he could not get rid of. You were always looking at him with that sweet expression, ready to face the next anomaly with a smile and good attitude. He couldn’t stand you. The fact that you could face every problem and tragedy, a particular characteristic of spiderpeople, without your spirit being corrupted ... he hated it. He hated it to death.

Yet, observe how easy it is for him to lie. Because in reality, he never hated you. How could he hate the one person who received him with such a unique and special warmth and affection— the woman who, one by one, took down each one of his walls, making them crumble to the ground and fall as he did when he fell in love with you. Although, too late.

He lets out a dry laugh. There is no doubt that he is Spider-Man: the people he loves never stay for long.

Isn't that how he ended up here in the first place?

He sighs, exhausted. I don't want to think anymore.

He takes a swig from the whiskey and frowns, letting out a sound of disgust from the watered down drink and decides to get back into the penthouse. He looks around.

And now what?

Fuck this pity party. Miguel may not be in his five senses at the moment, but he doesn’t think twice before activating his nanotech suit and traveling to your dimension. He doesn't know what is the right to do; If you prefer your space, that he never contacts you again. All he knows is that he cannot stand this purgatory; and that your screams and curses are better than the overwhelming silence of his apartment.

As soon as he steps out of the portal into your apartment, you can already sense each other. It is almost impossible to sneak up on a Spider person, that's why he isn’t surprised when he finds you sitting in your living room, staring at him without blinking.

"What are you doing here?" You ask without emotion after several seconds of silence.

"You know what I came for." he says as he removes his mask and approaches your figure. However, your cold look stops him in his tracks.

“I don't care. I want you to say it.” you say while you stare into his eyes sharply. He deserves it. "Be direct for once in your life."

"Hey," he warns, baring his fangs. “Don’t push it.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, ignoring his warning. "Then leave. I was clear: don't come back until you tell me how you really feel.”

"Don't you think I want to?!" Miguel shouts, frustrated; Not with you. Never with you. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, controlling his anger. When he opens his eyes, you’re surprised to see actual remorse. "I'm dying to have you in my arms again..."

You can’t help to soften your expression when you caught the frustration in his voice and how difficult it is to express his true emotions at the moment. "Then why the hesitation?" You ask softly, your voice a sweet melody to his ears. Then, a sudden thought makes your blood run cold. “...unless I wasn’t good enough for you.” Your voice trembles and you can't suppress the tears that arise.

Miguel’s face falls and without thinking twice, he runs to you and hugs you tightly, snaking an arm around your waist and his hand behind your neck. He listens as you sob into chest and he brings you even closer, his hand gently stroking your back. "Shh... no, my love, that can’t be further away from the truth." He whispers softly into your ear. "I am the one who’s not good enough for you."

Miguel lets out a dry, incredulous laugh. “I'm the worst… to cause the most wonderful woman in all of the multiverse to think the opposite…” He presses a kiss against your forehead and brings you closer to him. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please, forgive me for being such a coward.” He murmurs apologetically as he buries his face into your neck and breathes in your scent.

God, how I missed this smell~

He leans back and stares into your eyes, stroking your cheeks and wiping your tears.

"I love you," he declares, more confident than ever. "I don't want to keep loving you from afar. I don’t want to run away, fearing that one day I will lose you if it also keeps you far from my arms.” He presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and whispering the last few words full of emotion, "If I still lose you...”

"God, Miguel..." You crumble once again and hug him tightly. "I love you so much," you confess in the midst of tears. "I’m afraid too, we are both spider people, we both risk our lives to prevent Multiverse from collapsing… our job is dangerous and it is painful to think about the great possibility that I could lose you,” You look into his eyes, holding his face in your hands. "But it hurts more to have you so close, and not by my side."

"I know..." He whispers as he leans towards your sweet touch. “I'm such an idiot. I thought I was protecting you from the pain, but in reality, I hurt you even more.” He stares into your eyes, his gaze full of remorse. "You could forgive this fool in love?"

You laugh softly and Miguel swears that his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, you look at him with a mischievous smile. "Hmm, I don't know..."

Miguel groans and looks at you with desperation, as if he needed to hear that he has been forgiven to be calm. "Love, please..." He whimpers softly against your neck, kissing it sensually.

Your grin becomes wider and playful. You take his chin and make him look into your eyes. "But you sound so nice, Miguelito~” You purr. “Do it again~”

Shit...

Miguel feels how his cheeks redden and he short circuits when he hears your playful and dominant voice. It was a side of you that he had never seen. Or rather, one he never tried to get to know. He was so obsessed with controlling everything that he never realized that he kept you from expressing yourself around him.

Damn ... he definitely deserves to beg to you.

"My love..." He kneels in front of you and takes your hands in his. He looks at you with pleading eyes. "Please, I beg you... Forgive me. Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the sight of the most stoic and stubborn man in the multiverse kneeling in front of you, begging like a dog. Is this a dream? More like a miracle.

"Wow... You really missed me, didn't you, Miguelito~?"

Miguel takes your hand and kisses your palm, staring into your eyes. "You have no idea." He whispers. Your heart skips a beat, blood rushing through your veins at an extreme speed. You feel the love that this man has for you and you cannot avoid the genuine smile that grows in your face.

You place your arms around his neck and you kiss his cheek. "I forgive you. Show me exactly how sorry you are~"

It takes Miguel less than two seconds before he is on top of you, your back on the sofa while his knee separates your legs. It seems as if all your confidence disappears as soon as Miguel touches you, his large hands gripping your waist. You feel tempted to deviate your gaze, but his crimson eyes keep you paralyzed under their intensity, full of lust.

"Oh baby..." he lets out a soft growl as his lips brush against your neck, making you shiver once more. “Eres mía~” (You’re mine~)

His fingers quickly disrobe you, his lips kissing every inch of your soft skin. His breathing quickens, breathing hot and heavy as his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, hand groping the other. He lets out soft grunts and moans of pleasure as he worships your chest, sucking and biting, leaving wet hot marks on your skin.

You grab onto his hair, your back arching off from the couch as he continues his assault. He lets out a particularly long groan when he feels you grind your wet pussy on his knee. He chuckles darkly and presses onto you even harder, making you shiver and moan in delight.

“That’s it mami…” he growls, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Grind that needy pussy on me… make yourself feel good.”

A sound of pleasure escapes from your lips. You close your eyes and decide to immerse yourself in the pleasure that both have refused for too long— no longer wanting to deprive your body of what it craves; and your heart from the one you love.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hips bucking against his clothed knee, soaking the nanotech fabric. He can only watch in awe how easy it was to reduce you to a sensitive mess— rubbing and pressing his thigh against your throbbing pussy, gripping your hips tighter as he guides you.

“Oh fuckkkk… Miguel…” The way you so readily give your body to him— it awakens a primal side to him that even he didn’t realize he had. The need to explore how many times he can make you cum without fucking you with his cock had his mind reeling from the possibilities.

Should he finger you now? Should he make you cum on his tongue? Ride his face?

“Miguel… oh Miguel~” you mewl, the squelching sound of your juices on his leg echoing in the room. Small puffs of hot air leave past your lips, your hips bucking so needy and desperate for friction.

However the night ends, what he does know is that he so desperately craves to hear you whine his name like that again.

“Come on, cariño…” he keeps rutting your hips against his thigh, now unclothed as his dick strains against the nanotech clothing that covers his groin. “What do you need~?”

“Need you…” You pant out, chest heaving rapidly. “Need you inside… please Miguel~”

He chuckles darkly. “Already? But baby, we just started~” He teases, slowing down the rubbing against your clit, making you whine in frustration.

“Fuck that! I missed you, maldito!” You growl, making Miguel’s eyes widen when you voice out your frustrations.

This makes Miguel chuckle heartedly, gazing down at you with affection and primal lust. “You missed my cock that much, baby~?”

“Not your cock. You.” This startles Miguel, actually making him blush. His chest fills with so much love and affection for you. God, he needs you so badly.

“Te amo, mi arañita…” (I love you, my little spider…) Miguel murmurs softly before leaning down and claiming your lips softly. A low moans escape from your lips as you feel just how serious he is. “Missed you… missed your touch…” he breathes out against your neck once he pulls away, his lips brushing against your skin. Miguel shivers and groans, loving the way your warm, soft skin feels against his. You can only watch as he worships you, too paralyzed by this feeling to speak. “Missed your smell…” he inhales your scent softly before pressing a kiss on your neck. “Missed your voice… let me hear it please…”

“Ahhhh… Miguel…” you find your voice, breathing out your response as your chest rises and falls rapidly, trembling underneath him.

“Fuck…” he groans from your needy voice. Miguel trails wet kisses down your hot skin, licking away your sweat. His fangs lightly graze your thighs, teasing you with his tongue. He chuckles when you arch your back, whimpering his name, begging to take you— to do something already!

He grins as he kisses the inside of your thigh. “You’ve never been very patient.”

You whine, your hand making it’s way to his hair and tugging him closer to your throbbing pussy. He chuckles and licks a long, agonizing swipe along your glistening folds, making you groan in response. “Good thing I’ve never been very patient either~”

Miguel takes his time, swirling his tongue, lapping up your juices— yet, the way that he grips your thighs, so close to digging his claws into your skin while he groans from your taste— it only makes him look more desperate and feral than when he first begged for you.

You jolt and shiver in delight, the drag of his fat, warm tongue bringing you to heights of pleasure you only had the joy of experiencing with Miguel. The feelings of pleasure were so delicious and excruciating, it makes you buck your hips against his face. You grind your pussy on his face unashamedly, his nose brushing against your clit deliciously.

Watching from below, how your hips arch and you tug harder on his hair is all that Miguel needed to die happily. His groans and harsh breathing muffled by your desperate grinding.

“Mmm… shlppp… mmnh…” His eyes remain trained on your cute expressions, a particularly harsh suck of your clit eliciting a whiny moan from you that had him reeling.

“Fuck… Miguel…! I’m so close!” You whine so pretty and needy. His claws digging dig into your thighs, pressing his face harder against your cunt as he eats you out like an animal.

Miguel moans against your cunt, murmuring for you to cum on his tongue, to do it now. It comes out a wet, muffled mess, but you didn’t care. You were already a moaning mess as you came, spreading your juices all over Miguel’s face. His tongue works on your core like a man dying of thirst, lapping up every drop of your juices and overstimulating the fuck out of you. He never came up for air, submerged between your thighs, delving his tongue deeper, sucking harder. This is where he belongs.

“Mi— Miguel! It’s too much..!” You whine, trying to push his head away but he’s glued to your pussy— and he’s not moving until he’s licked you clean.

After a few more seconds, he gives your pussy one last lick before he comes back up, his tongue hanging out as he smiles smugly. You twitch and writhe underneath him from the overstimulation, gazing at him with a satisfied and dazed expression. He tantalizingly drags his long tongue around his mouth, lips, chin… cleaning up your cum from his face, making sure you watch. “Dios mío, que rico sabes mami~” (My god, you taste delicious mami~)

You whimper, your hole twitching at the erotic display. Miguel watches as your pussy flutters with primal lust, smiling at you like a predator. “You liked that, baby? Do you still want more?”

Before you could respond, Miguel is on top of you, claiming your lips in a hot, sensual kiss. You groan at the taste of yourself on his lips, this only turning you on even further. He grips your ass, bringing your wet core towards his now fully unclothed and erect cock.

“Mmmngh… mmnh… ahhhhh…” You whimper into the kiss as he grinds his cock against your sensitive folds, spreading your juices all over.

“You want this cock, baby? Huh? I can’t hear you. Tell me how badly you want me. Tell me. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.” Miguel whispered into your ear as he kept grinding himself against you, teasing you once again. You can only cry out, frustration building up inside of you as you feel your hole squeezing against nothing, craving his thick cock.

“Please… Miguel…”

“Dime lo que quieres preciosa… ¿quieres que te lo meta? ¿Sí? ¿Quieres que te coja?” (Tell me what you want, precious… you want me to put it in? Yeah? You want me to fuck you?)

“Yes, Miguel! Just… please!”

As much as he loves teasing you, he needed to nestle his cock inside of you. Right. Now.

“M’gonna bury this cock deep inside you… make sure your pussy remembers the shape of my cock…” He chuckles as he lines himself up with your hole and slowly pushes his cock past that first, tight ring inside your cunt. “Fuck… such a tight fit… bet you didn’t fuck anyone with a dick as big as mine…” he groans and pushes further. “no other cock can stretch you out like mine can…”

“No one… only you…” you breathe out in satisfaction as you finally feel your pussy getting full. “M’so full…”

Miguel lets out a string of curses and groans at the feeling of your tight pussy pulsating around him. “Yeah, that’s right baby… only my cock can fill you up this good.” He smirks as he looks down at you, caged between his arms and large body. “Gonna let me fuck this pussy, huh? Want me to pound you until you can’t think?”

“Yes, Miguel! Yes!”

That’s all the confirmation he needed before he started rutting his hips against yours at a fast pace. No time to start slow, no. This is the type of desperate and primal sex that lovers have after they’ve gone a long time without seeing each other. The type that builds up overtime only to be released in the heated thrust of each other’s hips. The type that has you moaning out gibberish and wrapping your arms and legs around him as Miguel thrusts his hard cock inside, going feral on your pussy.

“Fuck… I missed this… I missed you…” Miguel grunts with every thrust, small puffs of air leaving his lips as he ruts even faster, deeper. His muscles flex with every movement. He presses his hot body against yours, feeling your tits brush against his chest with every thrust.

“M-Miguel… please… harder!” You moan, digging your nails into his broad back.

“Yes…” his voice is so rough, so hungry that it’s almost jarring. Every word he says, every look on his face seems to radiate his intense feelings for you.

He needs you, oh, does he need you.

His arms are like steel on your body, keeping you still within his grasp, and he makes you feel every inch of him, pounding himself into you in a frenzy. This is what he had been looking for, needing. He fills your entire existence for just a moment, completely and utterly enraptured by you.

“Te amo… te amo tanto…” (I love you… I love you so much…) he whispers into your ear, biting and sucking on it. One of his hands makes its way between your legs as he rubs your clit. “Ven conmigo, bebé… I need you to cum with me…” (Come with me, baby…)

“Miguel! Ohh… I’m g- Mmm… Ahhhh~!” Your moans are muffled by his lips against yours. The pounding of his cock, his thumb rubbing your pussy, and this hot, searing kiss was all you needed to finally let go. Squelching hot cum bathes Miguel’s cock and balls as you tremble and writhe in ecstasy.

“That’s it, baby… god, you did so good…” he groans, placing your forehead against his as he ruts his hips faster. Grunting as he chases his own release. Not long after, Miguel is cumming inside your pussy, spurting hot loads of his cum so deep you can feel it in your womb. The moans he lets out sound so raw and desperate, you feel like you’re watching a whole other person.

He sighs in satisfaction, pressing a kiss on your forehead before laying down besides you. He pulls you into his body, his cock twitching as he keeps it nestled deep inside your cunt.

“Fuck… I don’t think I’ve ever come this much…” Miguel lets out a breathy laugh and you look at him in awe. The afterglow of your session makes him look so… ethereal. You blush and involuntarily clench your pussy around his cock.

Miguel chuckles. “I felt that, preciosa~”

You roll your eyes and look away from him, flustered. “Then take it out!”

“Mmm… why should I~? I very much prefer having you close like this.” Miguel inhales in your scent and presses a tender kiss on your neck. The action flusters you further, making you blush at his sweetness and his opposing teasing.

“Te amo, mi vida…” (I love you, my life..) He whispers softly as he closes his eyes, bringing you closer into his embrace.

You smile softly and close your eyes as well, slowly dozing off. Not before you utter the same words back, “Te amo, Miguelito~”

.

.

.

.

A/N: A little fun fact: this fic was originally written in Spanish first because I wanted to practice writing (specifically smut) in my native language. I might end up posting both languages on AO3.

[plotthotrobin]

@medicallyfascinating Absolutely, I’d love to elaborate! ☺️ But I will take it over here to a new post since that one is very Hilda-centric and because this will be a long ramble.

Hilda is very out of place as Claude’s “retainer” as a whole. She doesn’t swear herself to him out of loyalty, she isn’t even really shown to have a bond with him that is any more notable than the rest of the GD. Hell, she’s the one ‘retainer’ character that can be recruited at all. She’s kind of just… there. The only argument that can really be made here is that she is a Goneril, and that house is the one that defends Fódlan’s Throat - and personally, I don’t think that requires her to be in the ‘retainer’ position to touch on.

Most people who play FE3H can tell that some routes got more time and attention in the writing room than others, and I think VW and CF are the biggest victims of this. VW is messy, awful in terms of pacing, and infamously a clone of SS (But, in my incredibly biased opinion, better because of Claude). If I had it my way, the story would focus heavily around relations between Fódlan and Almyra, the Leicester Roundtable, Claude’s background as an Almyran prince, etc etc etc. The biggest crime this route commits is having nothing to do with its lord - especially given how interesting the tidbits he drops really are. With that setup, Cyril may have actually made an interesting ‘retainer’ character considering the fresh perspective on these topics that he could bring to the table. Such as the ones expressed in his really interesting supports with Claude. (I know Cyril isn’t GD, but he’s an honorary one in my mind.)

Assuming we’re sticking to the current VW story as closely as possible, however, there’s one particular issue about VW that stands out: A lot of the TWSITD/Nabatean elements are out of place and completely irrelevant to the Golden Deer and Claude especially.

…With the exception of one character: Lysithea.

Lysithea already pops into the actual story sections post-timeskip to provide information on TWSITD… and then is just brushed aside again. Bringing her more into the spotlight as an unofficial ‘retainer’ for Claude could have made a lot of the unfolding events feel a little less out of place.

Imagine with me that, instead of TWSITD coming up at the last second story-wise, it instead came up during the ongoing fight against Adrestia and Edelgard. In this scenario, Lysithea slowly starts to put two and two together: Edelgard has white hair, purple eyes, has clear connections to terrifyingly familiar mages, and is rushing to accomplish her goal swiftly at the cost of many lives. She hesitantly approaches Claude and Byleth in private and explains not only what happened to her, but that she suspects that the same thing happened to Edelgard. Maybe Lysithea brings up the possibility of her being under the direct control of TWSITD.

Claude is, reasonably, riled up and horrified at finding out all of this and realizes that Fódlan’s issues run much deeper than he initially thought. He now sees:

- The Church of Serios and Rhea, who he knows has been hiding deep secrets that he has been trying to get to the bottom of. He’s been reluctantly working with Seteth and the knights because he needs the support, but doesn’t trust them and still has the understanding that they’re hiding shit.

- Emperor Edelgard of Adrestia and TWSITD, who could potentially be coercing her into fighting the Church of Serios for some unknown reason - or, alternatively, are simply helping Edelgard for an equally unknown reason. He doesn’t trust any of them either, pretty obviously.

Claude now knows that, in order to even potentially achieve his dream of equality and peace, he has to get to the root of the clusterfuck that is Fódlan - because Sothis knows it’s not happening in this state of affairs.

On a more personal level, I’m sure he looks at Lysithea and tries to imagine an even younger version of her being strapped down and experimented on - and frankly, he just can’t bring himself to. It wouldn’t surprise me if, as a secondary goal, he also gently promises to do his best to help her find a cure. In turn, a stunned Lysithea devotes herself fully to him as a leader and his cause.

Now, a lot of this is just a lot of speculation and hypotheticals, and a lot of it is opinionated, but I personally believe there is just inherently more overall story potential this way than with the current setup. ☺️

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 5 - healing salve

Warnings: guns/talk of compromised food

Word Count: 1.8k (gif not mine)

Summary: Some reprieve is granted, but it’s not without cost.

<3

.

Thompson stares at Clint, then at Natasha.

“Fine,” he agrees.

“Fine. But given the events of the last couple of weeks, you can only use it before 7am or after 8pm. If you stray out of this, if you create trouble; whether it’s your fault or not, then the privilege is revoked. I’m allowing this because the intel you gave about Vladivostok has been valuable and saved two agents from certain death. So if you fuck up, that’s on you. You have to then earn the rights again. Do you understand me?”

Natasha looks straight past him, but Clint smiles easily, and thanks his superior.

“Clint. Stay.”

Natasha takes two steps out the door, standing at attention waiting for Clint to follow.

Met by Agent Coulson, she stands a little straighter and watches the man approach.

“Romanoff,” he greets mildly.

“How are you?”

She doesn’t want to be rude, but she also doesn’t want to say anything. The self imposed silence since the attack had been one way of keeping her anger close by, and her thoughts to herself.

Though mandated to talk in therapy, she tried to be cautious with her words, considering them before speaking and focusing on the questions in front of her. It was the same for the continued debrief.

They still only touched on the make up of the Red Room and the KGB, even the FSB and not delved too much into her own history, though she felt it was coming.

Too much did not make sense without the context behind it, Odessa and Chechnya loomed ahead and she knew that if she were to talk about them, it would take days to explain the compounds and layouts and what they actually held.

She nods in acknowledgment and he takes it as permission to step forward and engage her in conversation.

“Did Thompson allow the request to go through?” he asks as though he didn’t already know the answer.

Natasha nods again, waiting for another inane comment or question that he already knew the answer to.

Instead, he starts to talk about the weather and the variability of the day. He describes how one of the shooting ranges was on the roof, the other; for sniper shooting, stood just outside so the targets could be far enough for ranged shooting.

He talked about how the latter is Clint’s favourite and how he likes to show off with arrows.

“He’s going to want to make you shoot arrows with him,” he warns with a wry smile.

“I think it’s a right of passage for anyone who is his partner.”

Natasha frowns and looks at him, the conversation not requiring much; if anything, from her but instead gives her company whilst waiting.

She doesn’t know if he’s smart or an idiot in telling her things, whether it’s a trap, or if telling her that Clint is going to be her partner that she’s passed some kid of test.

What she wants to ask is what’s going to happen next. The days feel sisyphean, monotonous of late.

She continues to be debriefed and reliving moments of her life that she doesn’t want to, the process leaving her numbed out and hollow.

Life doesn’t seem like anything but a chore, but still she persists.

She made a choice and if anything she feels like she wants to see how it plays out.

“Have you ever shot an arrow before?”

Even as Natasha considers an answer, Clint opens the door and smiles to find Coulson standing with Natasha.

He greets him with a smile, a rare one that doesn’t feel faked.

Natasha feels she has come to tell the difference in the months she’s been with him.

Coulson turns his attention to Clint, asking him a couple of questions about Thompson’s debrief before turning back to Natasha.

“I’d take the sniper range if I was you. But your choice.”

Clint looks between the two in a question but neither Coulson nor Natasha elaborate.

There’s a beat of a moment before Coulson bids them good bye, knocks on the door and with a shout of admittance, and heads into Thompson’s office.

.

The rest of the day passes without incident.

Natasha is deposited back into her glass cell and she can’t help but feel caged.

Pacing like an animal, she tries to dissipate the feelings that lays below her skin, and recites numbers in English, then French, and as she hits her hundredth lap and pauses. She wishes there was a window or at the very least a clock in the room.

With no way to tell the time, except by way of food delivery, Natasha feels the heaviness of apathy as she begins her count again.

.

Clint finishes his paperwork, wanting to get to the shooting range. Glancing at the time that reads just past 7, he thinks that Natasha should have finished her dinner and likely is waiting for him.

It prompts him to stretch and stand, and go and find food for himself.

He finds the cafeteria mostly empty as he buys a chicken curry and rice, wondering if he’ll be able to handle the spice.

He thinks on Thompson’s words as he wishes he’d grabbed a drink as well, his mouth smarting in the spice.

He’d been asked who would support and take Natasha to and from therapy and debrief whilst he was gone.

Truth be told, he’s slightly excited about getting out.

The monotony had been feeling oppressive.

There was a toss up between Coulson and Maria, but the decision that Coulson needed to go with him to England rather than Maria had sealed the deal.

He hadn’t told Natasha, as he wanted her to know that he wasn’t abandoning her.

He felt guilty but knew that this mission had to be him.

His contact in Manchester was getting cold feet, and just needed some reassurance to continue to feed Shield information on Hydra.

As it stood, he’d been quiet reliable so Clint was unsure what had gone wrong.

He’d wanted to at least get to the shooting range once with Natasha, it felt mean to have be able to go and not do it, now that it had been approved.

He was unsure just how involved Maria wanted to be, given her apparent indifference to Natasha and if it was just escorting her to therapy and debrief and sitting through the debrief as Clint had done then he probably needed to give her a heads up on that.

He finishes his meal, throws out the packaging and starts on his way to the cells.

“Clint! Wait!”

Sharon jogs to catch up to him and he smiles to greet her.

“Are you still on guard jury?” Clint enquires, realising he hadn’t seen her in a couple of days.

Sharon nods.

“I just wanted to tell you that there’s been a couple of people trying to come to see her,” she tells him.

“I think it was Thompson’s order that it was only you, but they’ve been trying. I don’t let them, but the other guards, I don’t know.”

She looks down.

“I just wanted to let you know.”

Clint nods, anger building.

“Who?” he asks softly.

She looks uncomfortable.

“I.. Uh. I’m new. I just wanted to tell you that she might not be safe.”

Clint understands the underlying meaning to her words.

“When was your last shift?”

“Tuesday,” she pauses, “around 7pm.”

“Thanks,” Clint tells her, “I really appreciate it.”

Sharon makes to move away.

“Is it true what they say about her?”

Clint knows he’s missed the Shield gossip line.

“What’s that?”

“That she’s going to kill us the first chance she gets and take shield apart from the inside out?”

Clint shakes his head.

“No. She couldn’t. Even if she wanted to.”

He tries to be reassuring.

“She agreed to come, help and defect, she wouldn’t go through all of this just to take us all out. They’re just scared.”

Sharon lowers her eyes and stares at her hands.

“I know, when I take her food, she always says thank you when she sees me. They were putting things in it, I noticed when you changed it around, that they tried to change it back. When I asked them why they wanted me to take particular foods they just smiled. So I ate some, and it was foul. I think they’d been putting ground up bones or something equally as hard in any of the food and in the tea, they’d put another liquid that made it taste off. I don’t know Clint, I’m new, but I feel like they should have more integrity than that?”

Clint’s blood boils.

“How often are you on guard duty?” he asks, wondering just how safe she is.

He thought she just hadn’t been eating because the food was different, or the events of the day had been too much and not left much of an appetite.

But to hear that people had been messing with her, with her food and now wanting access, he can’t help but wonder just what else was going on.

If he was going to be away for the next week, he couldn’t imagine just what might happen to her without his protection.

“Every Monday to Wednesday,” she replies, almost as if it’s a question.

Clint leads her to Coulson office, and knocks twice, hoping that he’s still there and not gone home.

Predictably, the door opens, and Coulson seems unsurprised to see Clint standing with Sharon.

“Can we come in?”

Coulson steps aside and Sharon balks at the door.

“I don’t want to get anyone into trouble,” she hesitates.

Clint smiles, in what he hopes is a practiced, reassuring smile.

“No trouble, we just need a little more information and maybe your help, if you’re willing.”

Coulson looks confused and Clint shuts the door behind them.

.

Natasha curls into herself on the bed.

The thin anti suffocation sheets were not warm and the temperature of whole room was at the mercy to outsiders.

She was either too hot or too cold, but at least, she thought that she had clothes to keep her warm.

She had thought Clint would come, given the permission of being able to go to the shooting range. But he hadn’t.

Natasha hates herself for being disappointed.

She had come to trust his words, and she had thought that he was excited, given Coulson’s chat and Clint’s grin when it had been approved, but he hadn’t come.

No one had.

Hours she had been left alone and she was beginning to think she should start her bedtime routine.

Sighing softly to herself, she stretches her body and heads towards the tiny shower room, feeling sorry for herself.

.

Clint waits, wondering just how long she’d take in the bathroom, feeling quite creepy as he standing just outside the glass.

He was late, the time almost midnight, but wanting to be true to his word when he said he would come back.

If she is surprised when she exits, she doesn’t show it.

He starts with an apology and tries to explain.

“Your time here, over the past couple of months hasn’t been great, has it?”

Natasha doesn’t say anything.

He didn’t expect her to.

“Do you want to shoot some guns? We can only go to the one on the roof but there’s no one there and maybe it’ll help.”

He thinks he sees her smile.

She holds out her hands for the handcuffs and the door opens with Clint’s keycard.

“Hopefully we won’t have to do the whole handcuff thing too much longer,” he tells her, the click of them closing audible.

“I don’t mind,” she replies softly.

The walk to the roof is slow, and Clint seems to be deep in thought as he leads the way.

The gun range isn’t what she thought.

Enclosed, likely sound proofed, the room was black, lanes to shoot in there’s guns, to her left, in a cage.

“What do you want to shoot with?”

The question feels innocuous but Natasha feels that she can tell a lot from people in the gun they have.

Dreykov’s chosen firearm was a Makerov PM.

She hated that gun. He would shoot it and then make them smell the residue.

Clint picks the beretta 92fs.

“Here.”

She takes it, feeling the weight of the weapon and feeling more at ease that she had over the last months.

She disassembles it with ease, looking over the components and then reassembles it.

The monotony of it like a healing salve at having a means of protection and being able to do something that isn’t talking.

He hands her the clip and she inserts it in.

Clint takes his own gun and leads the way.

Earmuffs on, Clint shoots the first shot, allowing Natasha’s focuses her breathing, counting a breath in and out before she shoots.

The first shot goes wide.

Anger curls within her.

Grasping it with two hands, she presses the trigger again.

It hits centre.

The third and forth follow.

The next shots punch through and she feels at ease.

Glancing sideways to Clint he signals to ask if she’s finished.

They spend the next hour just shooting.

Clint doesn’t stop her.

For Natasha it’s the most cathartic thing she’s done and the most at peace she’s been in such a long time; and even though the night is late, he just lets her continue.

For once, her brain quietens.

She thinks that maybe she’ll even sleep.

As she expends the last clip, she knows they need to stop.

She joins him on the bench.

“Thank you,” she says sincerely.

Clint reaches across and squeezes her hand, letting go as quickly as he touches.

“I have to go to England tomorrow,” he tells her.

The world tips.

There is no good without the bad, she thinks idly. She should have known this was coming.

“Maria will be here and make sure that you’re okay.”

“I’ll be gone for about a week.”

The words seem to overshadow the last hour and a half and Natasha’s anxiety peaks.

She nods, unsure what to say; her mind reeling with the repercussions of not having him there.

“Can we go back now?” she decides on.

The walk back is slow.

She finds Sharon sitting guard, and then another at the next post.

In her mind she wonders how to protect herself.

They approach her cell and she turns on him.

“Can I keep these?” she asks, holding up the handcuffs.

Clint frowns.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid? That you won’t jeopardize the work we’ve done here? All the things you’ve done and put in motion already?”

Natasha doesn’t meet his eyes as he removes the cuffs but giving them to her anyway.

On a whim, she holds onto his hand, squeezing it.

“Thanks for trying,” she whispers, so softly he could have imagined it.

She pulls back before he can react and takes three steps back, just as she always does.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” he promises.

She turns away from him and he does the same, unsure what’s left.

It’s only when he returns to his car, that he realises she’s stolen his watch.

.

[whatevertheweather]

Hi hello. I miss y'all. That is my own fault but it's still true, and I'm writing this on saturday night and feeling maudlin about how wonderful and talented and dear this fandom is and how I never join in anymore, so I'm making my little post okay.

I'm going with Musical Chairs again because it's so far past time for that to be done. And I've said this before, but it is approaching done. And I'm gonna get into that, but it'll all be behind the scenes rambling, so it's below the cut, and for those who don't want to delve that far, here is some freshly written Penny POV.

“Ah,” Shepard smiled, “a good deed wasn’t motive enough on its own?” “Not when it’s for a stupid reason.” “What is your un-stupid reason?” “Un-stupid?” Penny repeated. She turned resolutely to her drink. “Nevermind. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” “Hey now,” Shepard said, ducking into her line of sight. “You struck me as someone who prefers being honest.” It was a job not to smile at that, but Penny put the work in.

Now for the mess.

It's a good mess I think. I have a new section in my miscellany document, tucked in between nine (9) sections of ramblings and cut scenes, and the new section is called "we got it this time boys," and I think it's right. I've written a full draft of the scene that's been holding us all back. It's there in its entirety, it just needs to be edited. And I'm so scared to reread it, because every time I think I got this scene right I come back and it's wrong. Which I've decided to be fine with, because so what!!! So what if I got 36k right and there's 5k that doesn't quite hit the way I want it to!!! The earth will keep spinning!!!

Anyway, "we got it this time boys" is 3 pages of what is technically kind of an outline for 5 pages of story, and every time I read the header it's in the voice of someone from some black-and-white hardboiled detective noir, which brings me the joy that might be the only reason I feel I've gotten it right in the first place. The outline is all written about as cohesively as it starts:

I think maybe, and gosh haven’t I said this a million times, I just need to stop trying to go that way. Stop trying to go any way. Like always “how do I get them to this moment” instead of “what would they do in this situation.” Unfortunately, the latter requires I connect with them on a level I’m not sure I can right now. But I guess let’s try. Actually let’s go for a walk, I can see the sun setting on the top of the house across the way and it’s lovely. Okay nice, it was lovely. Relaxing, refreshing. Saw a stump that looked like a beaver. Saw a cat. Thought of the opening to something I’m never going to write. So anyway,

It also sort of ends with:

Oh shit came up on an obstacle immediately. [Redacted]. This does not actually open the door for Baz to say something that can incite “[Redacted].” Fuck god okay whoops already going completely back on all I’ve decided and thinking maybe we could keep some of the new exchange I’d written, maybe he does reveal the ugh no stop I hate this. Just figure out a transition to bring in [...], what would Baz say to that other than what I’ve written him saying to that which doesn’t work for what I’m trying to do. I guess it could just be, like…he murmurs incorrigible. Or something. With a raised brow, a la baz. Sure let’s do that, however, I’ve laid down to do this and learned I’m actually quite sleepy, so let’s do it another time. Hopefully I don’t come up on another immediate problem and despair. Just remember not to start combining things and rereading things yet, okay. Please.

This would be alarming if I hadn't already gotten past this point and written the thing. So I'm going to go into editing it with the mindset that nothing substantial shall change and boohoo to me if I want it to, and once that's done we're pretty much home free.

Now tags.

Gonna dip a toe back into being melancholy and wistful about this fandom k, I really do miss it even though I'm the only one keeping me out. You're all my friends even if that is a surprise for you to hear because we haven't talked in months or maybe ever, but I love each and every one of you x

@fatalfangirl @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @moodandmist @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy

@bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @mooncello @noblecorgi @alexalexinii

@rimeswithpurple @ivelovedhimthroughworse @basiltonbutliketheherb @whogaveyoupermission @facewithoutheart

@martsonmars @iamamythologicalcreature @run-for-chamo-miles @thewholelemon

@forabeatofadrum @youarenevertooold @ileadacharmedlife @monbons

[clovermarigold]

Smoke & Ice Chap.1

Hey guys this is the first chapter of the smoke x oc/reader, bi han x oc/reader fic. This is somewhat of a trial chapter to see how I like the direction I started with. Currently working on chap 2, so it should be out soon. I swear I heard smoke’s voice lines, and I folded so fast 😂

I apologize for the pace of this chapter, I had to get at least some of the exposition out of the way. I promise future chapters won’t feel this slow. Feel free to give feedback on the pace, if it feels too slow or too fast give me a heads up.

Masterlist

Word count: 1554

“Okay, explain it to me again” Kenshi rolls his eyes at Johnny’s incompetence. “For the last time; Lord Liu Kang is sending us along with the Lin Kuei on a recruitment mission”. “Well, ok. But it doesn’t exactly explain why we are the ones going” Kenshi sighs deeply, prompting Raiden to place a hand on his shoulder. “What Kenshi means, is that Lord Liu Kang requires both the Shaolin and the Lin Kuei to have leaders present to convince the Hamadryad to join their place as earth realms protectors”. “Right! Right right… But why not send actual Shaolin” at that, both Kenshi and Kung Lao let out an in-sync groan of defeat. “Because, Johnny Cage, as contenders to be champions of this century's tournament, you are best suited for the task at hand” Liu Kang smiled to the others as he approached, Bi-han, Kauai Liang, and Smoke in tow. 

The four bowed to the god of fire, albeit some slower than others. “Oh great, this guy. You know you still owe me for my Hichuli” Johnny points at Bi han. “You will get nothing from me, cage” Kauai Liang held an arm out in front of his brother to stop him from approaching the American. Johnny smirked at Bi han’s visible anger, “So, who exactly are these hama-whatchamacallit”. 

“The Hamadryad were once one of the three protectors of earth realm, along with their sister’s the Shaolin and the Lin Kuei” Liu Kang explained, “However, they left our order before the last tournament”. “But why would a clan of earth forsake their duty” the soft spoken Raiden asked. A regretful look spread on the fire god’s face, “During the prior tournament the Hamadryad sustained heavy losses to their people. So much so that the elders decreed their recession from their duty and participation in the tournament”. 

“Heavy losses? I don’t know why I’ve never asked this, but.. Uh… What’s our record at this tournament” Johnny said with less than his usual snark. “Earth realm and Outworld have long been evenly matched. But Outworld is gaining strength. Should it win, its more militant factions will be emboldened”. “I thought you admired outworld” Raiden remarked. “It is a place of great knowledge, wealth, and beauty. But our realms do not share goals and beliefs. We coexist peacefully because Outworld respects our strength. Should we show weakness… our rival will become our enemy”. 

“And… this requires the aid of the Hamadryad” Raiden asks. “...The Hamadryad have long been among the greatest forces of earth realm, now, however, they are lost. It would benefit us all if they were to return” Bi han scoffed at the praise of the Hamadryad. “Come” Liu Kang instructed the group to follow as he walked towards an open path of stone. The group watched as Liu Kang summoned a fire portal, presumably to wherever the Hamadryad were.

Stepping through the portal they were met with lush green as they are surrounded in forest. “Huh, kinda reminds me of this movie I was in a few years back, we shot the whole thing in Greece, it was a box office hit” Johnny, being himself of course, said while filming the entire thing and scanning the area. “While I will not reveal our exact location, for the safety of the Hamadryad, I will confirm your suspicions” Liu Kang said, walking past them with his hands behind his back. “Oh, hell yes. We have GOT to go to this gyro place in Athens” the others walked past him, causing him to run to catch up while promising the gyros were worth it after stomaching all the bland rice they had with the Shaolin. 

The three Lin Kuei, however, hung back, walking at a slower pace. “I do not understand why we are wasting our time here” Bi han said, fists clenched. “Lord Liu Kang has requested our help. If he believes the Hamadryad can ensure safety for earth realm, then I believe him” Kauai Liang said, attempting to placate his brother. “These Hamadryad are nothing compared to the Lin Kuei, it is a waste of my time. I am grandmaster, I should be leading the others” Smoke and Kuai Liang shared a concerned look. “Were he here, father would advise us to proceed without protest” said Smoke, earning a scowl from the cryomancer. “Mind your place Tomas. Father may have taken you in, made you one of us. But your blood will never be Lin Kuei” The harsh words made the ninja momentarily pause in his stride, choosing to remain silent the rest of the journey. 

After about half an hour of walking the group came upon a large stone arch. “And this is where we shall part ways,” Liu Kang says. “Wait, you’re not staying” Johnny asks incredulously. “No, Johnny Cage, I will not. But I wish you luck in this endeavor, I hope that you all will return soon”.

“Wait, how long will we be here before we go back?” Kung Lao asks this time. “As long as it takes to convince the Matron of the Mangrove to rejoin us. Knowing her… weeks… at least” Bi han pushed past his brothers at this. “You expect us to remain here and leave the Lin Kuei without leadership for weeks,” he asks angrily. “The Lin Kuei will not be without leadership” Liu Kang says, “Kuai Liang will lead them in your absence”. 

“I am the Lin Kuei’s grandmaster. I should be the one to remain-”. “No, Bi han. This requires a leader of the Lin Kuei to be present. And Kuai Liang, similar to myself, would not be granted entry”. Bi han seethed at the notion that his brother would lead the Lin Kuei in his stead. Raiden broke the silence, “Why would you and Kuai Liang not be granted entry”. “The Hamadryad are a people similar to that of your legends of nymphs. Their life force is connected to that of their brethren tree they are born with. Because of that, fire is strictly prohibited within the Mangrove, Kauai Liang and myself, would be turned away” Liu Kang explains. 

“So, do we just go on in?” Johnny asked leaning to get a better view beyond the arch. “Whatever decisions you make from here on shall be your own. But remember, respect the rules of the Hamadryad, and learn from them” With a bow, Liu Kang, followed shortly by Kuai Liang turned back to the way they came. “Well, that was no help” Johnny said, earning a punch to the arm from Kenshi, “What- hey!” Bi han shoulder checked the actor, moving past him to go through the arch. “Alright, find this mangrove, convince their leader to join us, and don't start any fires… simple enough” Johnny said following the others through the arch. 

“Bi han you’re moving too fast” Smoke said gesturing to the others who were a good thirty feet behind them. “Liu Kang couldn’t have portaled us closer?” Johnny panted. “The longer it takes for us to get there, the longer we shall be stuck here”. “I understand your ambition to return swiftly but-” the faint sound of the breaking of wood caught the two ninja’s attention. 

Turning to the sound they are met with what looked to be a boy no older than twelve, staring at them like a deer in headlights. “Easy there” Smoke held out his hands to calm the boy, who though still, breathed heavily, eyes darting to each of them. In a flash the boy broke into a sprint, diving into the brush. “It seems our work will be done for us”. 

“Shouldn’t we follow him?” Kung Lao asks. “No, following him would only make us appear a threat. Better to let them come to us, and prove our intentions” Smoke said, turning to the others. The group sprawled out, finding places to stand and sit in the small clearing of the path. “So what was all that brethren tree stuff Liu Kang was talking about?” Johnny asked, kicking back to lean on a log. “Are you aware of Greek history, or is your ‘expertise’ limited to my clan’s history” Kenshi asked, making a reference to Sento “Yes, for your information, I do”.

“The Hamadryad are a type of dryad that are bound to a tree or a plant” Raiden explains, “When one dies, so does the other”. “Wicked, that’s definitely going in the movie” Johnny used his hands to gesture at an imaginary billboard, “Attack of the tree people”. Kenshi rolls his eyes, “Don’t you pay attention to anything the monks teach you. It’ll take a miracle for the matron to agree to anything with you around”.

“And what’s the deal with this matron? What’s her deal?” The others swear they could faintly hear smoke stopping Bi han from ‘shutting up the fool who won’t stop talking’. “The matron is the leader of the Hamadryad. It is usually a title to be inherited, like that of grandmaster. However, the last matron did not have children. And it was instead given to the oldest of them”. 

“Brother,” Smoke said quietly under his breath. “I am aware. We are being watched”. “Woah, who is Ms. smoke show” Johnny drew the attention from the group to the female figure emerging from the trees. “You are not welcome here, Shaolin. Leave”.

[sexyandhedonistic]

Faith (and feeling) is the secret: A small success story and what you can learn from it.

Hello, my loves. It’s been a while since I’ve made any sort of post on this blog. Today I’m going to be bringing you one of my many success stories. As someone who’s very private, I’m always skeptical about talking about any of them as they tend to be quite personal and oftentimes require me to disclose details to provide context. Even in this one, I’ll be keeping it occasionally vague and change a few insignificant details to preserve that privacy. Nevertheless, I feel good about sharing this one because I remember drawing so many comparisons and turning to a lot of what Neville himself said in his lectures and I applied what I’ve learned from beginning to end. Anyway, let’s get to the story:

This happened some time ago, it doesn’t really matter when but I had found out that a favorite artist of mine was having a concert after tickets had started going on sale. The concert was in one of my favorite cities which was a bit of distance from me so I was open to going, but not particularly compelled to. When I first heard about it, I looked up how much of the seating was occupied just to have an idea of how popular this concert was. 

I couldn’t even see the seating chart because it would halt me with a “there are no seats available at this time”. Knowing the law, if I really did want to go, what I had just read meant nothing in the slightest, so I wasn’t discouraged. I continued to check from time to time to see if anything had changed and I would bump into the same exact notice. But again, I was still open to going and what I had read held no value and my reaction was no different than if I had seen a stadium full of blue sections. It didn’t matter one bit. This went on for two months.

During that time, I found out that some of my friends were going, so now I was more interested in going as well. I hadn’t particularly assumed I would go throughout, I was always thinking of the idea rather than from it. So, although for the most part I had no solid desire to actually be there up until now, I still knew that if I wanted to, I could be. Not once through this entire time did I feel stressed nor desperate. I always had faith.

It was the month of the event and I still didn’t have seats, and then they announced a giveaway which I entered. The span to apply was approximately two weeks and they would announce a winner a week before the event. That very morning, I was still hopeful about winning. I felt good, I kept thinking about what it would be like to be in one of my favorite cities hanging out with my friends and seeing one of our favorite artists. And then I decided to induce the state akin to sleep to really place myself into that state of consciousness.

I would like to mention something very briefly here that I’m not sure whether or not I have previously brought up, but whenever I imagine during the state akin to sleep, I see it as death. What I mean by that is that I am conscious of being something I don’t want to be before I induce the SATS, and the goal should be to come out of that imaginal act conscious of being something else. That’s how you should always approach the state akin to sleep. Die to the old state and identify yourself with the new one. 

 Having already been in Los Angeles on numerous occasions, I drew the feeling from that. I recalled what the weather was like at that time of year, I remembered all of the landmarks I would pass by, I thought about how happy I would be to see my friends, how excited I would feel to see one of my favorite artists perform, and I mentally placed myself in that city. I was no longer sitting in bed within four walls miles and miles away. I was in Los Angeles. I was surrounded by the hot weather telling my friends how happy I was to see them and I heard them say it back to me. I saw the lights and the streets, I felt the butterflies of making my way to the venue and finding my seat. I took all of those feelings and really let myself sit and become fully drenched in them until I felt happy to be there. (And I remembered to think from the end and not of the end. Remember that this is key. If I simply thought about being there, it would create no shift in consciousness.) I kept focusing on that feeling, I didn’t have a particular scene in mind, I was simply focusing on the senses and the emotions of being there. I felt happy that I was able to make it, I was thinking about how glad I felt for not taking no for an answer and the memory of the present moment of me inducing the SATS was something I had done last week.

I wasn’t keeping track of the time I was in that state, but it was roughly an hour. I hadn’t slept and the sun was starting to rise when I pulled myself out. I felt satisfied with my prayer and I reminded myself that if for whatever reason I felt uncertain I could simply do the same, so I felt good. I wasn’t anxious about whether or not I had done enough because I knew praying and accepting that it was happening was all I had to do and soon enough I’d be making my way to LA. 

Then I went to sleep. The winners were to be announced in a few hours and shut my eyes assuming I would wake up to the good news. However, I didn’t win the giveaway, but I was a runner up and I was given access to purchase tickets at a heavily discounted price, which in itself was a good start to my trip to LA. I didn’t have a particular seat in mind when I saw myself there, but I did want to be close and I was (4th row from the stage). A seat that would’ve cost me about $230 went down to $60, so I snagged it. If you’re familiar with the You Are In Barbados story, this was my “Good news, Mr. Goddard” moment. It was happening.

I had my trip, I booked my flights, I prepared everything and within a week I was on my way to see so many of my favorite people in one city. I was ecstatic the entire time leading up to it and I enjoyed myself to death. The concert was on a weekend and I was back home by the time the week started. It was Tuesday and I was checking my inbox and for some reason I felt like going through my spam folder. And I came across an email that stood out to me.

It was an email from the event telling me that one of the winners hadn’t responded so I was next in line and I had won two tickets plus the opportunity to meet them. Now, I admit that I did think the giveaway was going to be the how in my story. When I induced the state akin to sleep, I didn’t visualize myself winning, I visualized myself being in LA because that was the actual end. What I most wanted was to attend the concert so that was the end I was living in. Yet, that email served as a reminder that if I really did want to meet them, I very much could have. That would’ve been the part where Abdullah would’ve told me, “Who said you are only attending? You are in Los Angeles and you met them.” If I had that desire in my heart, I would’ve remembered to remain faithful to that even after the giveaway had ended. Remember that it always comes down to persistence and brazen impudence when it comes to whatever it is that you really want. Know what you want and reject anything that isn’t it. Nothing more, nothing less.

I hope you guys enjoyed this little success story of mine and you can learn a thing or two from it. I know I’m always here providing advice to the best of my ability and this particular success story attests to the fact that I practice what I preach to you all. I’ve also told you guys before that when you all start having successes of your own, your faith in the law will only grow more and more. I speak from experience! 

So my advice to you from this story, as I always have advised:

Know what you want. Have a clear idea of your desire.

Facts aren’t important. The 3D isn’t important. 

Go straight to the end. You don’t need to become conscious of things in steps. (This is why I focused on being in LA and not on winning the giveaway.)

Have faith. Always walk by faith and not by sight.

The takeaway is to not worry about the how in the slightest, only concern yourself with what the end of your wish fulfilled looks like. It is yours if you truly want it. Focus on the end only, not anything in between. If you know circumstances don’t matter and you are limitless, that you don't need to worry about the how, the when, the why or the if, the only relevant question you should be asking yourself is the following:

Do you want it?

[confused-rat]

You ever read something so asinine that you instantly crave the taste of copper and dust that would come from bashing your head into the fucking pavement? So yeah, I saw Lily try to compare KH to Dark Souls. I crave the sweet release of unconsciousness by bludgeoning.

Dramatics aside, this is more than likely Lily saying shit to bait anons and deliberately piss off game nerds. (It’s me, I’m game nerd.) I know I’m falling for the trap, but by god, if I’m going down I’m taking Lily with me for being a mean spirited troll.

Anon made perfect sense actually Lily. Here, let me hold your hand as I walk you through this.

In KH, you start the game with a choice between three weapons/classes that’ll influence Sora’s stats throughout the rest of the game. You do not get to change this later. Your choice will influence which skills are learned faster, but you will still always learn said skills eventually as you play. And if you come across a boss that requires a different approach, you have the ability to immediately switch tactics/load-out.

In Souls games, you have to think about your build. You have to pick which stats you devote resources to and think about how said stats will affect your gameplay. It’s not hard, you just have to pay attention. You like big weapons? You need strength. You like magic? Go for intelligence. It’s DnD logic. However, if you devote time and energy to one build and later come across a boss who’s resistant to your strengths? You cannot simply pause and change out your equipment and spells. You either have to respec or push through.

Kingdom Hearts also has difficulty modes to choose from. Souls games do not. I know you can read Lily, come on, let’s sound this out — KH isn’t as punishing. It’s okay. I know it’s still a hard game. To this day, if I hear “Dance Water Dance” I go into a blind rage. Buuuuut, KH is still more forgiving with the fact it even has the option of a difficulty settings. You cannot “play Dark Souls on hard,” you can play Dark Souls and that’s it.

Now here I’ll concede that Kingdom Hearts can be immersive, but STILL in a very different way. Souls characters are blank slates. You have to create your character, you have to make choices that influence the story, the player character is completely apathetic to the world around them, you the player are the one who cares — which is contrasted to Sora because he is, you know, A FULLY FLESHED OUT CHARACTER. You have no influence over Sora’s decisions. Sora’s opinions. Sora’s reactions — they’re all his. Not the players.

KH is immersive in that you grow to like the characters and want to see them succeed.

Souls games are immersive because you alone want to succeed.

They were making a point about how the player characters are different (fully realized person vs empty player stand-in), don’t be a bitch Lily, I know you knew what they meant. For fucks sake, you play Bioware games, you KNOW customizable characters are inherently different from fully realized ones.

Again, stop being a bitch, Donald and Goofy and whatever extra party member you get from time to time are ai game mechanics made to support you throughout the whole game. Co-op Souls is optional, makes the bosses chunkier, and the only support they really contribute is an extra damage source and diverted aggression. The Summons effectively work the exact same. And you don’t have access to them for the majority of the game, unlike Donald and Goofy. Yes, you have the option to remove Donald and Goofy — but you don’t have the option to keep party members throughout Dark Souls. (“Oh but in co-op—“ I’m representing my psn account not-havers, we don’t get friendly randos online to help, we suffer through the bosses with ai or nothing.)

So yeah, it’s a completely different system.

Ah, a classic Lily tactic. One where you purposely withhold context to support your statement. Dark Souls was praised for not being as punishing…. as Demon Souls. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t still punishing.

I know what you’re trying to do here Lily. You think other gamers think Dark Souls is superior to Kingdom Hearts, so you’re trying to rage bait them by implying both games core mechanics are similar enough to require the same skill set (but somehow KH is still better?). But in actually, you just look really fucking insecure about your own interests. Kingdom Hearts doesn’t have to be Dark Souls to be good. It is challenging, it is silly, it is engaging and fun—stop demeaning its own worth by saying it’s the better version of a completely different genre of game.

You just want to imply you can do what any Dark Souls player can, and you can’t.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Her Secret Side

Summary: Icy is embarrassed to be in love with a nerd. Except Icy is also very much a nerd too so it's fine.

Why him?

Her heart—she apparently does have one—always makes the wrong choices.

On some level or another, it latches onto the wrong people. 

The people she would rather it not. 

Darkar, Valtor, Tritannus…they had all been strange choices in their own rights. She clearly has a preference, her own odd taste. An acquired one for certain. But at least those choices had made sense for her. 

But him?

Him?

She sits across from him, watching him tinker with her laptop. With a reassuring smile he promises that he will make it work again, no magic required. “In fact,” he informs her, “the best way to fix a broken laptop is to put magic aside and pick up traditional tools.” 

“Maybe that is the best way for someone who can locate the motherboard.” Icy folds her arms across her chest. 

“It’s actually pretty easy to find!” Timmy declares. “The good news is that we don’t need to. The laptop isn’t shutting down because of a motherboard malfunction. It’s overheating because the fans are broken; all we need to do is tighten a few screws and replace a few blades and the fan will be working again.”

She comes to conclude that she, in fact, has more in common with her laptop than with Timmy. But that doesn’t stop her frigid heart from seeking him out. Had she maybe dropped her laptop on purpose to create a believable reason for talking to the man? Sure. But her sisters will never pry that confession from her.

Not that it matters. Even though he and Tecna had gone their separate ways, it isn’t as though Timmy has any affection for witches. Especially one of the three that had made a point of calling him a dork and a dweeb. 

“I can show you how to do it.” Timmy offers. “So you can repair it yourself next time.”

“I’m not paying you for that.” 

Timmy shrugs. “I wasn’t going to ask you to. I just figured that you wouldn’t want to have to talk to a loser like me if you don’t have to.”

But she very much does want to and so she makes a point of forgetting everything that he has just told her so that she can approach him again to fix the fans. And then she swears that something else had broken when she dropped the laptop. He promises that it is functioning perfectly well. And so she deletes a few important files and pretends like she has no idea how to recover them. 

He probably thinks that she is an idiot. 

Better that than him realizing that she has affections for him. 

This time when she sets her laptop before him he sighs. “Alright, I think that I need to give you more in depth lessons.” He pushes his glasses, those stupid dorky glasses, up the bridge of his nose. “Free of charge, no worries.”

She nods. 

That will suffice. 

She can stop making up excuses to bring her laptop in and tell her sisters that she is learning how to fix it on her own so that she never has to talk to the dweeb again. Maybe if she spends enough time with him she can convince herself that he is cringe worthy enough to fall out of love with. It is a perfect plan that doesn’t work. 

A perfect plan that is perfect only in how flawlessly it has backfired. 

She finds that she quite enjoys working with the man. Enjoys listening to him explain how different hardwares and softwares work and tips to get them to last longer than they otherwise would have. “Although, I would recommend getting yourself a new laptop pronto. This one is built like a tank but you’ve dropped it like five times now. If I were you I would get the same model, it seems very durable.” 

He inspects the laptop and tells her the make and model as well as the exact coloration and the amount of space on the harddrive. She asks him if he can come with her to the store and help her pick out the best one. 

He has almost certainly put two and two together. 

He tells her that he knows that she is smarter than that.

He goes with her to the store anyhow.

He calls it a first date. 

She doesn’t dispute it. Denial will only make jesting and teasing worse. 

.oOo.

Icy knows that things are coming to an end when he declares, “I don’t want to be your secret anymore.” She supposes that it was always going to end this way. It really couldn’t end any other way. Either she chooses him or she chooses her reputation and the image that she has so carefully and painstakingly built up for herself. The cool and intimidating demeanor that she throws over most other aspects of her personality. 

She can’t let go of it. Not when the witches are eagerly waiting for a chance to pounce upon her and knock her off of her throne. She can name several witches who would love to pay her back for all of the pranks and insults she has thrown their way. 

And so she has to let him go. 

Has to pretend like she hadn’t spent months with the man taking computers apart and watching horror movies on them upon reassembly. 

She has to let him go. 

But he is the only one who has seen her wearing those glasses that she hates so much; they make her look ridiculous. 

And he is the only one with whom she feels comfortable having lengthy discussions about horror movies, the intricacies of true crime, her classwork, and various birds, crows especially.

He is the only one who seems invested in helping her work through each case, trying to dissect angles that detectives have missed and the theories that other enthusiasts have come up with.

He is the only person who won’t take jabs at her for genuinely enjoying classwork and for taking such pride in the high marks that she pretends have nothing to do with actually paying attention in class and getting invested in the material. 

He is the only person she thinks wouldn’t question why she has such a fascination with birds and why she knows all of their scientific names. 

He doesn’t think that it is dumb that she wants to collect horror movie posters and figurines. He buys them for her now and again. She never displays them. 

She has so many facts that she can prattle off about any one of the subjects that interest her and he is the only one who doesn’t cut her off or start to yawn halfway through her spiels. He like to go on rambles of his own and she has grown fond of letting him do so. 

“If you’re that embarrassed by me then why talk to me at all?”

“I’m not embarrassed by you…” She mumbles, folding her arms across her chest. 

Timmy furrows his brows. 

She hates that she can’t take what she dishes out. Resents that she will probably break if people start to treat her the way that she treats them. But more than anything, she dreads that Darcy and Stormy won’t want anything to do with her over this. Darcy is still mad about Riven. Riven who is also open and available now that Musa has,according to Timmy, declared that she has reached her limit with him.

“Yourself?” He guesses. “You’re embarrassed by yourself?”

“Timmy, if there was a second me in this room, I would probably kick my own ass.” Or at the very least she would relentlessly and ruthlessly bully herself. She supposes that she doesn’t need a second her to do that. She accomplishes it well enough on her own. 

“Why?” 

“Why!?” She frowns. “Well why wouldn’t I?” She gestures to her glasses. To the spread of true crime case notes on the floor. To her collection of DVD’s and posters. To the things that make her who she is. 

“You’re allowed to have interests, you know? And you don’t have to dull them down.”

Not when she is with him she doesn’t. But with every one else… “Yeah. I can have interests. Interests that aren’t nerdy.” 

“Horror movies aren’t nerdy. I thought that witches love horror movies.” Timmy points out.

“But birdwatching is an old lady hobby.” Icy grumbles. And with a shake of her head she adds, “and yeah, witches love horror movies but they don’t…”

“Cosplay.” He fills in.

She nods. 

“Who cares?” 

“Who cares?” Icy repeats. 

“Yeah. Who cares? Who cares what they think?”

She does.

Apparently.

“I’m pretty sure that you could just encase them all in ice or something. You probably don’t even have to do that—they’re scared of you, all you have to do is give them one of your ice cold glares and that’ll do the trick.” He tucks her bangs behind her ear, fixes her glasses onto her face, and kisses the tip of her nose. 

She doesn’t want to lose this. 

Doesn’t want to lose the one person who hasn’t had one bad thing to say of this side of her. 

But she doesn’t want anyone else to know about this side of her.

She also doesn’t want to lose her high ground.

“How about this?” Timmy offers. “Tell Darcy and Stormy at least and let me tell Sky and Tecna.”

“You still talk to Tecna?”

He laughs, “no need to get jealous…”

“I am not jealous!” 

She absolutely is the possessive type. 

“We’re still friends, Icy. She just…she decided that romance isn’t for her and that’s okay with me.” He pauses. “Nice try with changing the subject though. Can you at least tell Darcy and Stormy about me and let me tell a friend or two and then we can go from there?”

“I know what happens when one person knows a secret…”

“Tecna is great at keeping secrets and Sky pretended to be Brandon for months and we didn’t suspect a thing.”

Icy grumbles, “I wasn’t talking about your stupid friends, I was talking about mine.” 

Timmy sighs. “Witches.” 

“Fine.” She scowls. “I’ll tell them.” 

Timmy’s cheerful smile returns. He ruffles her hair. She hates that she has to pretend to hate that. “Great! Eventually we’ll get to a point where you feel comfortable enough to tell everybody else the truth.”

Icy sniffs. “Yeah right. Stormy is going to open her big mouth way before I get comfortable with anything.” 

He takes her into a hug. “You’ll live.” 

Clearly her sassy and sarcastic nature is rubbing off on him.

“You’ll live and you’ll realize that it’s perfectly okay to be a total dork.”

“I thought that you said…”

“I didn’t say anything about you not being a dork. You’re definitely one of the biggest nerds that I have had the pleasure of discussing the intricacies of comic book plotlines with. I said that I enjoyed that you’re a dork and think that you should embrace it.” 

She turns her head before he can see the flush creeping across her face. “Whatever. Let’s just start listening to the podcast before I get the both of us featured in one of them.” 

They turn the lights off and light the candles. It is her favorite ambiance for horror movies and true crime podcasts. He lets her stretch herself out upon the couch and lay herself across his lap. He likes to hold the hand that she typically rests beneath her sternum. 

She would very much miss this if she had to let go of it. 

And so she resigns herself to dealing with Darcy and Stormy’s cackles for at least a week.

[darthbabie]

Embarrassed Banquet

Description: Your required to go to Valentines Day banquet on Asgard. And it was going okay until Loki called you over to where he was hanging out with some other Asgardian women…

Loki x Reader

Trigger Warnings: Angst, embarrassment, public humiliation, arguing, heartbreak, let me know if I missed any. 💕

No use of Y/N

A/N: Heyy, I’ve never wrote angst before so this is a first. Let me know how I did, kindly please💕. I don’t know why but tonight I have felt like the most heart broken emotional person and I don’t know why. I just feel super alone and had a anxiety attack I believe. So after I calmed down I wrote this. Anyways I hope you enjoy💕😌👍

(Not my Gif, credits to maker)

Italics-Inner thoughts

You were sitting in your room laying on your bed, reading a book. A book about a love you’ve never felt. A perfect love, the couple had been through their hardships as all couples do. But as you were nearing the end of the book the couple was content. They loved each other, would die for each other and put each other first over everything. You stopped reading for a moment and zoned out as you imagined what that would be like. All the relationships you had been in before weren’t like that. It was always unevenly yoked. You always loved them more than they loved you. It always seemed you were a toy, just a pass time. Time and time again you had begged for just the bare minimum. Now your at the point you’ve just given up on love. You want to love again but no one seems to love you… you sit there picturing what it would be like for someone to hug you and mean it, to have someone wipe your tears away, smile at you and tell you it’s alright. For someone to have a tickle fight with, till you both are laughing so hard your insides hurt. For someone to say “I love you.” and actually mean it. With their whole heart. Eventually you look up at your clock and realize it’s time for you to get ready for the Valentine’s Day banquet. Thor heard of this holiday from Midgard and told the King about it and they decided to make it a required banquet for all of Asgard to attend. You grumbled to yourself as you weren’t ready to look at all the people who had what you desired so much. To see people actually love each other. Yes there was a singles portion to this banquet. But you know most people on Asgard… it usually doesn’t end well. Plus for awhile you’ve had feelings for Prince Loki, who you have been quiet close too. But as much as you have always given him your all, he has his eyes elsewhere…

Walking through the gorgeous halls is the castle, you absorb all the pink and red and purple decorations. As you cringe because you’re dreading this banquet so much. You start to approach the doors to the banquet hall as your dress sways and your heels click across the floor. You stop for just a moment and take a deep breath, you hear all the music, talking and laughing…you just cringe. But you know you have to attend so you force yourself to walk in. Once your inside you find the nearest corner you can find to get out of the way so you can just observe. Your not very good at socializing, so you just stand there awkwardly looking at your shoes and playing with the fabric of your dress or the ring on your finger. You do it so much that your finger starts to hurt from you rubbing the ring so much. Eventually you see Loki, as usual he’s flirting with pretty much everyone. Everyone but you… your pretty sure he doesn’t even know your there. But that’s really no surprise to you as no one seems to notice that your there. But your used to it, not that you like it. But it is what it is… eventually your parents notice you and greet you. And of course they harp on you about how your just standing in a corner and that you’ll never find anyone that way. And you know they’re right. Your not pretty enough for someone to just walk up to you and flirt. Now your parents wouldn’t say that to you but you all know it’s true…

The night starts to die down and finally Loki actually notices you and waves you over to him. As you walk over from your corner that you had made your temporary home, you start to get nervous and have butterflies in your stomach.

“Hello my dear, how has your night gone?” Loki asks you

“I’ve just been standing in the corner where you saw me, just not really my thing.” You replied as you continued to play with your ring on your finger.

“I understand my dearest, it can be overwhelming.”

A couple of girls come up behind Loki as they look at you. If looks could kill, you would be dead. One girl places a hand on Loki’s shoulder another greets him by kissing him on the cheek. Of course your heart sinks, you feel it drop like a bowling ball had just dropped from your chest to the bottom of your stomach. And your heart physically felt pain. But those feelings seem to be an age old friend. Really more like a parasite you can’t seem to get rid of. He grins and greets both women. And with venom behind every laced word they ask “Who is she and why is she talking to you?” Loki then introduces them to you and he introduces you to them and explaining to them that your an age old friend. Unfortunately the girls read you like a book and could tell that you liked him more than a friend. Your not quite sure what gave it away. If it was your demeanor about how shy you were with him and how every time he smiled at you, you blushed. Or if it was the way you played with your ring and looked down when you spoke to him. But they took that as competition and they decided they wanted to put that to an end in the most embarrassing way possible…

When Loki finished explaining that you and him were age old friends, they laughed. They literally laughed, audibly and loudly. Causing people around to glance over to the four of you as the Prince looked confused.

“Friends? Aww that’s cute that you think your just friends.” the girl on the left said loudly to Loki.

“She has a little school girl crush on you can’t you see?” The girl on the right says as the girl on the left is laughing so hard and so loud she has to grab her stomach.

“Seriously it’s so obvious I mean look at her now, her face is bright red.”

“Aww it looks like she’s about to cry.”

And you are, your about to cry. Your trying so hard not too. Not just because Loki is right there but now because they have caused a scene and everyone is now looking and the banquet is silent and focused on you. Unfortunately Loki is in shock and just doesn’t know what to do.

“Seriously what makes you think a girl like you could ever stand a chance to have any relationship with the Prince. Your lucky that he even thinks your friends.”

At this point you are crying and you have no idea what to do so you just run. You run as fast as you can as your tears stream down your face, ruining the make up you worked so hard on. You were so proud of it. You’ve never been so humiliated, all you can hear is those girls laughing. You think you possibly hear Loki call your name after you started running but you decided that it was just your heart playing with you. As you ran you could hear your heart beating in your chest. You couldn’t breathe, you were hyperventilating. Your chest heavy all you wanted to was scream. All you could do was focus on getting to your room and crawling in bed. Your head started to hurt as you were under such emotional and physical strain…

You finally got back to your room and you never have shut your door so quickly. You slammed it shut and once you did, you just fell to the floor. You tried sitting up but your body just collapsed as you laid on the ground crying. Your body shaking as your breathing was so out of wack. You tried so hard to take deep breaths and calm down but nothing seemed to help…

You just kept crying eventually it started to slow down a little and your just quietly sobbing. Eventually you hear a knock at your door. And you hear your mom and dad on the other side.

“Hey honey, we saw what happened and we are so sorry. We didn’t want to rush after you right when it happened because we figured you would want to time to yourself. If you don’t wanna let us in that’s okay too. We left you a little gift for you outside your door. We love you honey.”

You smiled a little but still had quiet sobs. Eventually you dozed off on the floor. Still in your dress and tear stained face. You just didn’t have the energy nor the care to move to your bed.

You slept well into the next day, a knock at your door is actually what awoke you. You sat up and looked at your window and saw the sun was setting.

“I can’t believe I slept all night and day.”

A knock sounded on your door again.

“Hello dear, it’s Loki. Nobody has seen you today including myself. Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah sure I’m alright, especially after last night.” You thought to your self sarcastically as you just chose to lay back down on the ground, still not having the energy to get up after last night.

“Everyone is extremely worried about you.”

“Yeah sure.”

“Your parents have left you a gift out here I’ll gladly bring it in for you.”

Seconds pass…

“If you don’t open this door I’m going teleport myself in.”

…More seconds pass…

You hear a slight thud sound as you look up to see Loki. You can’t believe he would invade your privacy like that… but then you remember how bad you look and start to panic, the color draining from your face, you look away.

“Oh dear.” Loki says with a look of worry on his face. He looks down at you and gets down on his knees. “Look your parents brought you a vase of beautiful flowers. They even have a little note on them. I’ll let you read it yourself.” You look up at him to look at the flowers but you hide your face away with your hands. He reaches over to you and pulls your hand away from your face. “We all cry sometimes it’s alright.” he says in a calming tone. You then just try to wipe your face with your hands hoping to help a little with your ruined mascara and eyeliner. He then hands you the flowers, and you smile as you smell them and admire the beauty of them. You wonder what it must be like to be a object that is so beautiful that no one hates. You take the note your parents wrote you and place it on your dresser to read later once Loki has left. And put the vase of flowers next to it. You then lean against your door and fold your legs up and place your elbows on your knees as you play with your ring again.

“I truly am sorry dear for the way people treated you last night. And I’m sorry that I froze and didn’t know what to do.” He said to you in an endearing manner.

“Thank you, but you didn’t do anything wrong really.” You replied.

He then looked down at the floor then back up to you as he heard you take a deep breath.

“Loki why do you hang out with those types of people. They aren’t you, not the real you. I know you, your better than that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do, I really doubt those women have seen what I’ve seen you do. The caring side of you, not the flirtatious cocky attitude you portray for your father.”

“How dare you, really? That you think you know me so well?”

“Yes I do and I know you well enough that I know this isn’t you speaking, it’s your father.”

“How dare you speak to me like this maybe you did deserve what happened last night. Or is it true does the little girl has a school girl crush on me.” Loki says with a laugh.

“Screw you.” you reply looking away.

“Ahh so it is true, that’s why you ran out crying because you were exposed. I mean I really can’t blame you, I am quite ravishing but how pathetic it truly is.”

“Loki I know this is you just trying to deny your self so you can make your father proud. So you can go off and date all these beautiful women who are perfect and come from perfect families. And if that’s what you wanna choose over someone who truly cares about you and loves you for who you are. For the son who is adopted and isn’t full Asgardian. But I never cared that you were part frost giant. Go tell those girls that and see how they react. I’m the person who has sat by your side and read books with you by the fire late into the morning. I’m the one who has sparred with you and eventually in turns into a wrestling match on the ground as we laugh and end up rolling down the hill together holding on to each other as we cry laughing. I’m the one who listens to you rant about your father.” You say all this gradually getting louder and more mad and more upset.

“I’m the one who actually will be there for you and I’m not just chasing after money or the throne. If you wanna throw that away fine! Then leave me alone and don’t ever come to me when those girls don’t work out because I’m not going to be there. I’m not a last resort Loki.” You say yelling through tears streaming down your face.

Loki just sits there in silence. He knows your right. He knows your the right choice. The one who would truly cares, the one that truly loves him. But he’s so torn, because he just wants to impress his father. To be equal with his brother to his fathers eyes. Unfortunately by choosing you… he would be scolded or even possibly punished by his father. And he’s worked so hard his whole life. To just prove that he is worthy… What he doesn’t know is that to you, he is worthy.

He doesn’t know what to do or say…

“I’m sorry my dearest…” he says to you and just vanishes, teleporting out with his magic. And all that’s left is just a little bit of green smoke, then eventually nothing but your quiet sobs.

A/N: Helloo, I hope you enjoyed this. If you liked it and would like a short part two with a possible happy ending I can do that. Right now I’m upset and just wanted to write something kinda how I feel. But when I’m in a better mood I’d gladly write a happy ending part two or I can just leave it sad like this.

-Kisses💕

[justanechoflower-ddlc]

(Alright, Monikanon here again, to clarify a few things.)

(The submission I gave (which you saw Nat respond to, the final in-character one for a while) was written BEFORE we worked out things aren't going that well and there's a chance this arc won't even be concluded properly. They were written not long after Nat's previous in-character post. And as it should have been apparent, there were never really any commitments on exactly WHAT would happen post-arc on this blog. That's something to be determined later. And Nat's right, the odds of something like what I described are smaller than they were when I said what I did then. And even back then, that was a small possibility out of a pretty big pool of possibilities, I didn't really have a clear vision in mind, just several possibilties of what it MIGHT look like, which is why I had said "more on that when we approach the arc's end".)

(Oh, and guys, full-scale AUs (On the scale of Inverted Fate/Underswap) were never on the table. If the blog's momentum had kept up, and it turned out that we decided that what I described DID happen (as opposed to some of the other possibilities I had in mind, or would have came up with later on, nothing about the future of the blog was EVER set in stone, the idea is we'd work that out when it's time to work that out), it probably would have been short scenarios. Think less "AU" and more simple "What If?", maybe on the scale of ONE of the Undertale Yellow "What If" animations by Robr0. (Except not animated, and I doubt it'd get even close to that level of detail) Also, it wouldn't be too surprising if that REALLY just turned into just broadly saying what might have happened in the same "here's an overview of what might happened". As I said before, nothing was ever confirmed, very good chance it'd never go in that direction at all, we didn't have a direction, we would have worked out where to go with this blog's future when we approached that point)

(And for why Monika hasn't returned, it's probably a combination of a lot of the factors we went over. My current (really rough, and nowhere near set in stone) outline is that the BEGINNING of bringing Ivan back is at the end of Flowey's trip, but of course he's not there for the whole process, the process itself takes up some of the time gap. Then there's catching up with the other girls, but there's also getting MC/Ivan to join the club again, and whether or not HE should know the game-related stuff, and how to catch HIM up into it. That's also going to take some time, and as the characters worked out, Flowey probably can't be there for that process, which means it's part of the time gap. That, and catching up with the others, is what I have right now, as I work out whether or not that's enough for that long of a gap. This is probably something we'll work out more over time here.)

(Oh, and I'll tweak probability a bit so Monika buys Flowey's explanation, or at least doesn't dig enough into it to work out what's really going on. I don't want that to happen either, and there are timelines where this would work. You won't see the results for a while though, for reasons I outlined in my previous submission. -Monikanon)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(For some reason tumblr doesn’t want me editing submissions anymore before posting them because they say it will mess up the formatting? But I found a loophole around that and just copied and pasted what you wrote into a new post. I’ll also tag you at the end of the posts since there wouldn’t be any more notifications of “justanechoflower posted your submission.”

(Tumblr seems to be making quite a few changes with submissions including the new account requirement plus the fact I can’t edit them now. Oh well. They can’t stop us!!!!

(I have actually made animations before, but quick ones, and they mostly just include Flowey as the main focus in his flower form, which is really simple to draw in comparison to animating people. So yeah, if this fleshed out blog cuts short, we most likely would keep it a brief summary with a few still art pieces from me to sum up how this “what if” timeline would end. Probably in a similar format to the recaps we are going to be making for what’s happened so far.

(Your explanation for why Monika wouldn’t be present for the time between the end of the blog and now makes sense! And so far everything seems like it can line up with the main blog so it’s good that you have that prepared. Most likely when Monika returns to the ask blog, Flowey will be complaining about something alone the lines of “What took you so long? I’ve been having to deal with all these idiots single-handedly for forever!” Opening a chance for you to put in that explanation through Monika.

@ddlc-a-new-beginning

[catenary-chad]

Stex Appreciation Month: Electra

Fav actor: Koffi Missah is the best overall.  I think the MJ/Prince train angle is the most effective characterization for Electra and he looks, acts, and sounds perfect for that approach.  It’s fun and recognizable in the cheap seats in a language you don’t know.  But it also has a lot of potential for depth, there’s a double entendre to be made about the government/big companies conspiring against electric trains for being too successful and certain tropes about electrical powers. 

Mykal Rand is basically impossible to beat aesthetically for me.  I cannot look away from the absurdity of how smooth and girly his face is combined with how cartoonishly ripped he is.  Even footage of him on tiny tour stages in beat up ill-fitting costumes is captivating. He’s just so extreme and maximalist yet alien looking.  

I’m surprisingly unpicky on Electra actors as long as they aren’t boring.  That’s the only real crime.  But I tend to prefer ones who have/could pull off Greaseball because I prefer a bolder, louder Electra (and basically require it post 2018 so I don’t forget he even exists with that borderline camoflouge costume)

Fav songs/scenes: Dinah’s Disco because I love watching him get shoved, a nice more intense version of AC/DC, anything involving No Comeback or its leitmotif.  Once again, What Time Is It? is a terrible song but purely redeemed because Mykal is hilarious in it.

Fav costumes: Broadway/Bochum toothpaste is a classic, but I’m also weirdly fond of Late London because I love the cartoony look (especially on Chris Copeland since he went all in on the makeup style to match)

Ships/Friendships: already went over how I view him and Greaseball the other day.

I like to look at pictures from the JPN/AUS tours out of context and think Electra looks cold and lonely and in need of a buddy and Caboose coaxes him into fun bad ideas

Headcanons: 

-I habitually call Electra “he” because it’s what canon does 90% of the time, but view the character as neutral (all of them really).  Electra and the Components are about the only ones smart enough to realize these forms are an illusion and there’s no reason to play by human paradigms, it would be equally stupid if they subscribed to blood type personalities too.  They are VERY smug about this but slowly the message is spreading.  

-I vary in what exact basis I’ll give him but see him as either irl, alternate timeline, or outright sci-fi Amtrak’s choice of successor to the GG1.  He isn’t weak or terribly delicate if the infrastructure works (unless you keep him as 40101 lol), he follows in their tracks of being a huge effortless machine that’ll run away with basically anything you stick on it.  If he actually played it clean, he’d probably dominate going uphill vs Greaseball and especially Rusty, he just doesn’t flaunt strength much in canon because it’s not relevant to the race.

-Electra is a  Fully Automated Bi Space Communist who wants to run catenaries across the Rocky Mountains and Siberia

-If you turn the dials and knobs Electra will morph like a game’s character slider just like how it’s simple to regear electric locos for passenger/freight use.  

Unpopular opinions:  lmao I think all my Electra preferences are moderately to very fandom unpopular.  I’m a contrarian who likes the character for fundamentally different reasons than most.  I’ve vaguely known of the character for years but didn’t really fall in love with him until recently when I saw those 2013 tour videos people either love or hate. Yeah they have the worst staging and costumes but I went “oh hell yeah finally a less problematic alternative to my blorbos Ganondorf and Velvet von Ragnar”.  I think those two names alone make it pretty clear why I like a bulkier, hotter natured, more affectionate and competent Electra than most.  I crave novelty and get bored by oversaturated things so I’m naturally drawn to androgynous characters that aren’t twinks or prettyboys so seeing Mykal vs the more typical tall skinny Electras really made me more interested in the character, even if I think there’s more interesting characterizations than his.  

[stillresolved]

@ptternminds sent in: If María had a table to do it on, any kind of surface, she'd slam the pin down on it. Completely misplaced rage, the usual. Arrogance, a sort of elitism she doesn't recognize as such, when she approaches an Avox because everyone else is making her want to set fire to the entire damn place. Her arm doesn't shoot out, but the motion with which she lifts her hand between herself and Aeri is just as sharp. Her fingers unfold to reveal the pin the Avox had adjusted the last time they'd met. "What you did last time...," her voice doesn't bite off as much as her expression would have foreshadowed it to. It's tight. But tightly controlled as well. Putting in an effort. "Could you fix my hair again. Please. It actually held when you did it and they're driving me nuts over there." ((I LOVE SENDING YOU THINGS, DON'T WORRY ABOUT HOW OFTEN I AM IN YOUR INBOX, I'M BLESSED BY GETTING TO HOP IN SOME MORE >:33333 also GOSH María having Aeri's pin is something I can NOT let go, it just had a way too violent effect on me, hope this is okay ♥))

SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN STRIPPED OF HER TITLE, but does not mean the heiress has been beaten out of her. Not completely at least. Kang Aeri would throw herself into the river first before admitting that the brat lifting her hand is enough to make Aeri flinch. It turns out that avoxes are more than less of indentured servants and more like…property. It’s not like her family would go out of their way to rescue her anyways. Meaning one step out of line with any of the guests and it’s a guaranteed punishment of some kind. Usually physical.

Sometimes it’s worse.

( And if it is, Aeri does not tell her love. It’s better that way. Aeri refuses to let her see Aeri sink any lower. )

But still, Aeri bites the inside of her mouth, clipped fingernails digging into calloused palms. It’s atrocious: aside from the mandatory red gowns they’re all required to wear, all with the skirts loose ( she can’t even style it to her own liking ), avoxes aren’t even allowed to paint their nails. It’s as if they want the avoxes to be the walking versions of traffic cones.

Tragic. And infuriating really. For a country that values appearances above all else, one would think to elevate the style of their servants. One is only as stylish as their weakest link after all.

( Not that Aeri ever thought of them. Not until she became one of them. )

The brat reveals a hair pin though– Aeri’s hairpin. She remembers that one: sleek, gold, with a caprice of diamonds on the end sticking up. It was supposed to be worn the day she would have made her debut in the Capitol. 

Of course, that had to go to shit. And of course, her pin ( and now that Aeri thinks about it’s probably her dress too ), had to end up in the brat’s possession. Aeri glares at her. It should be Aeri in those clothes. Just watching the brat’s behavior over the course of the months, Aeri bets the 74th Victor would relish wearing an avox’s dress. The brat’s so obsessed with fighting anyone and everyone in the Capitol, why not let her descend to the people at her level? Most people in the districts don’t know how to appreciate luxury when they see it.

But alas, the brat still is a guest and if Aeri were to refuse, who knows what her ‘supervisor’ might do. She takes a step forward, one loud enough to reverberate across the floor, had she been in high heels, and snatches the hairpin out of the brat’s hand.

( Just because it’s an order doesn’t mean Aeri has to be nice about complying. )

She studies it. The diamonds shine in under the electric lights and the gold, it looks like it’s been polished. Not recently though; Aeri can see the fingerprints over the middle. It’s probably either the brat’s or her idiotic stylists– none of them would think to wash their hands before handling such luxury, would they?

Lips crease together in disapproval before she grabs the girl by the shoulder and spins her around. Now just looking at the pin just pisses Aeri off. Slotting the pin behind her own ear, Aeri gathers the brat’s messy– but what can Aeri do about it; the brat didn’t even bring a hairbrush along– hair into a ponytail. 

The bun forms itself under Aeri’s calloused fingers and once she knows it’s secure, she sticks her hairpin back in. A strand falls over the brat’s ear, much to Aeri’s annoyance, but she doesn’t try to fix that. The brat likes her hair looking half-assed anyways. 

Satisfied with her work, Aeri shoves the brat towards the dressing room once more although she’s quick to follow behind.

They better not be dressing María Castro in her designs too.

[no1frogfan]

Desire lines, part 2

Kuroo x afab reader

Series synopsis: Against his wishes, Kuroo must hire a personal assistant. You’re not exactly the right person for the job, but it’s a job, and you need the money. Inspired by Robert Macfarlane’s definition of desire lines in landscapes: “paths and tracks made over time by the wishes and feet of walkers, especially those paths that run contrary to design or planning.”

Chapter word count: ~2.4k

Chapter tags & warnings: none afaik

Note: I said this was going to come out on Sunday, but I became obsessed and couldn’t help finishing early. So you get it early.

Series masterlist part 1 | part 3

2. A foot in the door

“OH! OH! What about Takata?” Bokuto yells excitedly, “He’s responsible!”

Akaashi immediately shoots him down. “I don’t think Takata would want to quit his stable accounting job to do something like this, Kou.”

“Hmm…” Bokuto knocks his head with his fist. “OH! What about Iwasaki? She just quit as one of the MSBY managers recently and she’s really pretty.”

Akaashi shoots him down again. “Iwasaki quit the manager position because she’s 7 months pregnant and wants to stay at home with the baby after it’s born.”

Bokuto pouts into his drink. “You think of someone then Keiji.”

Akaashi wracks his brain, but, “Sorry Kuroo, I don’t think we know anyone that fits the bill.” He smiles apologetically, “But if we do come up with someone, we’ll definitely let you know.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kuroo waves him off, “Tell me what you two have been up to?”

And that’s how ten days fly by with no solution in sight.

Two weeks hadn’t felt quite so urgent when he’d asked for suggestions from Akaashi and Bokuto on day one, but now he’d asked everyone around him for help — Kenma, Yaku, Kai, Daichi…even Lev and Tsukishima — and still nobody fitting had materialized.

You’d think it’d be an easy task to find someone who is 1) trustworthy, and 2) looking for an easy job. There must be thousands of people in Tokyo who meet both those criteria, but strangely, none of his friends knew any of them.

Trustworthiness was actually the easier requirement. Pretty much every potential candidate his friends came up with could be trusted to keep the deal secret from Nishida and the office gossips. Surprisingly, the more difficult requirement has been the job itself. Kuroo didn’t understand at first. After all, this would be perfect for someone just out of college, for example, hoping to save up some money while they search for a more permanent position. But, as Daichi reminded him, most of those bright, young college graduates are looking to break into a new field, and that means meeting and working with people in that field, not spending all day at a dead-end position, even if it’s an easy job with a great salary.

With less than four days left until Nishida’s deadline, the panic is starting to bubble up.

Kuroo dunks his head under the water one last time and steps out of the shower. Wrapping a towel loosely around his waist, he pads to the kitchen for his morning coffee — well, noon coffee at this point.

As if on cue, the phone buzzes on the counter as he walks by. He answers without glancing at the screen, using his shoulder to hold the phone against the side of his face. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Iwaizumi.”

Kuroo breaks out in a smile. “Hey man, what’s up?”

“I’m in town for a few days. Want to grab coffee?”

Kuroo might be short on time to resolve this whole assistant issue, but then again, tackling the problem head-on hasn’t been working, so maybe some time away to rethink his approach is just what he needs. Anyway, Iwaizumi doesn’t come back to Japan too often these days. “Of course! Where should I meet you?”

“I’ll text you the address. I’m already here talking to a friend so drop by whenever,” Iwaizumi tells him before hanging up.

An hour later, Kuroo steps through the front door of the cafe. He immediately spots a hulking Iwaizumi facing away and talking with someone he doesn’t recognize. Like Iwaizumi, they’re dressed comfortably in blue jeans and a tank top, soaking up the sun spilling in from the huge windows.

Kuroo grins as he walks up behind Iwaizumi, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “Didn’t think you were the type to pick someone up at a cafe, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi whips around, stammering, “I- no- it’s not like that!” Until he registers who it is. “Oh, Kuroo,” he grumbles, thoroughly unamused.

You giggle at the dozen expressions that flitted across Iwa’s face in that split second. Turning to the stranger, you introduce yourself. “I’m pretty sure his partner would have a few things to say about that. Iwa and I are friends from college.”

Kuroo shakes your outstretched hand. “Kuroo Tetsurou. Iwaizumi and I were volleyball rivals in high school.”

You nod to him as you stand up. “Well, volleyball rival Kuroo-san, it’s nice to meet you. And Iwa, I’m glad we got to catch up a little. Let’s chat again soon?”

Iwaizumi’s arm flies out to block your way. “You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to impose…”

“You’re not imposing. I’m sure Kuroo doesn’t mind.” Iwaizumi doesn’t bother looking to him for confirmation.

Kuroo shrugs, “Up to you.”

“Such enthusiasm,” you deadpan, but sit back down. “You two go on and order then, I’ll guard our table.”

Iwaizumi gets up to keep Kuroo company and you take the chance to look Kuroo over. Standing next to Iwa, Kuroo looks a touch taller than him (even accounting for the messy hair) and less broad, but still clearly athletic. In the warmth of the cafe, he takes off his bomber jacket, revealing the simple long-sleeve shirt he’s wearing over a pair of black jeans. He definitely knows how to highlight his lean frame, well-built arms, and…you should probably stop ogling his ass.

You quickly tear your eyes away when they spin around. (There was a small tussle at the register as they each clamored to pay. Predictably, Iwa won out.) They’re both engrossed in conversation as they walk back to the table, allowing you to bury your face in your coffee with minimal embarrassment.

You watch amused as the two sit down. You’ve only ever seen Hajime like this with Tooru. Perhaps it’s because Kuroo and Tooru have a similar impish energy. You listen to Kuroo push and prod at Iwa playfully, asking after him and tormenting him in the span of a single phrase. Iwa meanwhile endures the teasing like a veteran, snapping back a few of his own gruff retorts that make Kuroo cackle like a madman.

All the while, the conversation weaves in and out of business.

“Well, work has really kept me busy, but I’m doing fine! How long are you in Tokyo this time?”

“Only a week,” Hajime complains, “but I should be back again soon for a few months to set up the new training regimen.”

Kuroo hums into his coffee. “Think I could get you to help with a JVA promotion?”

“You ask me that every time. But sure. How’s Kenma?” Iwaizumi grunts.

Kuroo wipes some condensation off his glass. “Kenma’s fine. He’s had his nose stuck in a new game for a while now.”

Hajime nods. “And your grandparents?”

“Ah, yea, they’re also doing fine.” His voice sounds lighter than before, but you’re probably just imagining it. You look over at Iwaizumi. Or maybe not, because a soft crease forms on Iwa’s brow.

But as you expect, Iwa doesn’t push him. He lets Kuroo lead the conversation back to work and to his current predicament. “After today, I’ve still got three more days to find someone, so my luck’s not entirely run out yet.”

A thoughtful look crosses Iwaizumi's face.

Oh no, he’s not—

“Weren’t you just telling me you were looking for something temporary?” Iwa asks you.

“Uh, well, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind…”

Iwaizumi leans forward, gesturing toward you but addressing Kuroo, “They would be a great asset to the JVA, you know.” Kuroo’s attention swivels to you. “They moved to Japan to get into more literature translation, you know poems, novels, stuff like that, but they’ve got experience with all kinds of Japanese-English translation. We’ve worked together before at post-game interviews and conferences and I’ve always been impressed by their competence and professionalism. Gets along well with the players too. That kind of expertise must be in high demand for an organization like the JVA.”

Turning back to you, Iwa adds, “It sounds like the position doesn’t include many responsibilities, and since you just moved here, this would be a great opportunity to earn some money while you work on getting your foot in the door with the publishers.”

You frown, eyes locked on the empty mug in your hands as if the foamy dregs might form an answer. He’s not wrong, but…

Kuroo eyes you appraisingly. If Iwaizumi is vouching for you, then you’re definitely trustworthy. And he can’t deny that having interpretation experience will come in very handy for the upcoming FIVB meetings, not to mention you definitely sound competent enough to type up some meeting notes. Plus, unlike his other prospects so far, it seems like working as his assistant for now might actually be perfect for your long-term goals…

“Sounds like a great idea!” Kuroo declares.

“…At least give me some time to think about it,” you mutter, intensely aware of their expectant gazes.

“Ok, but let me know by tomorrow night,” Kuroo replies confidently.

You shove another spoonful of cereal into your mouth, ignoring the milk that sloshes off the spoon and splashes back into the bowl. The texture is awful. The flakes are almost completely soggy and spongy after sitting untouched for the past few minutes.

Your mind is elsewhere.

You’d woken up way too early for a Sunday, mind plagued by Kuroo’s offer since the three of you parted ways yesterday afternoon.

You wash the soggy slime off your tongue with a sip of coffee — instant Nescafe, sadly, though you’re wistful for another latte or even an americano.

Maybe writing things out will help you think it through more clearly. You smooth out a piece of used scratch paper and turn it over to draw a simple cross on the page. On the top left, you write PROS and on the top right CONS.

First.

Under PROS, you write easy job. Kuroo made it clear that you wouldn’t have to do much. Aside from showing up every day and sitting at a desk, the only other thing you’d have to do is attend his meetings and type up meeting notes. Like Iwa said, that theoretically leaves you with a lot of time for your own things.

Sighing, you jot too easy? under CONS. An easy job isn’t bad, but it might end up becoming awkward if other people have different expectations of you than Kuroo does. What if his boss gives you extra responsibilities, or wants you to report to him on Kuroo’s schedule? The problem with this arrangement is that it’s vague and hence unpredictable. It may end up turning into a real, full-time job despite your understanding with Kuroo.

Moving on to the thorniest problem.

You add Kuroo under PROS. He’s undeniably attractive, and if Hajime is friends with him, then he’s probably a pretty good guy and a pretty good boss. Under normal circumstances, you’d be thrilled to have some eye candy around and possibly even a hookup at your fingertips, but—

You reluctantly write Kuroo again under CONS. But Kuroo would be your boss. That makes him 10,000% off limits. God forbid you hook up and things go south as they’re wont to do. You’d not only jeopardize your income, you might also jeopardize Kuroo’s job and his friendship with Iwaizumi.

Finally, by far the biggest pro, and you’d saved it for last.

MONEY. You underline it once. The salary is generous, more than generous. (You pull up your bank account balance for what feels like the hundredth time, hoping you might have read the numbers wrong the last 99 times. Nope, still the same.) You haven’t mentioned your dwindling bank account to anyone, but let’s just say you’re not feeling so optimistic now that you’ve been unemployed for four months. So unless you just happen to land a huge project (technically, anything’s possible) like, today (it’s still the morning, so…), with a big advance upfront (ok, that’s never happening), soon you’re not even going to be able to afford cereal and instant coffee.

Who are you kidding? You underline MONEY two more times in resignation. The longer you wait, the closer you’ll get to the point where you’ll have to take literally anything. There’s no way in hell you can turn this down.

You text Kuroo before you can change your mind.

His reply comes almost instantly: Perfect! You can start tomorrow. The address is…

Monday morning, you head into the office for the first time, thanking your nerves for setting your alarm too early and leaving the house with time to spare because figuring out the subway transfers during rush hour ended up being more confusing than you anticipated. Even though you left a half hour early, you arrive with only a minute to collect your thoughts as you ride the elevator up to the 38th floor.

A passing employee directs you to Kuroo’s office door. You smooth down your clothes before knocking quietly and waiting for a “come in.”

“You’re here!”

Kuroo steps out from behind his desk with a relieved smile and you thank the gods you spent the rest of yesterday and one full month’s rent investing in nicer officewear as your eyes travel up from his brown leather oxfords, up along his slim navy suit pants, to the matching navy vest cinching his waist, up the rolled-up sleeves of the white-button down shirt, up the gold polka-dot tie topped with a perfect windsor knot, all the way up to his golden eyes. His hair is still an absolute disaster, but it somehow works together, giving him an aura of charm rather than vanity. Yeah, your old, cheap, ill-fitting tops and suit pants would have been an embarrassment.

“Just in time, too. My first meeting today is in 15 minutes.”

He walks toward you, stopping to stand a little ways away as he continues. (Now that he’s closer, you realize the pattern on his tie isn’t polka dots, but tiny paw prints.) He holds out a hand toward toward the empty desk you passed on your way in. “Why don’t you get set up at the desk and I’ll grab you on my way there? After the meeting, I’ll introduce you to Nishida-san and a few other people around the office.”

He's just close enough that the spicy musk of his cologne tickles the edge of your senses. You’ve been here less than a minute and already you’re tempted to pull him in for a deeper lungful.

[everygame]

Super Mario Bros. 2 / The Lost Levels

Developed/Published by: Nintendo EAD / Nintendo Released: 3/05/1986 Completed: 14/05/2023 Completion: Beat it by using warp zones (1-2 to 4-1, 5-2 to 8) and abusing saves at the most miserable parts. At least I'm honest! Version Played: Switch Online Trophies / Achievements: n/a 

How many times have I played the original Super Mario Bros. in my life? It must be thousands, from the real thing, pirate carts, emulation as early as Nesticle… of all video games it is probably the platonic form of the video game, the first screen the most indelible image, beating out Pac-Man or anything modern.

It is the Mona Lisa to art, or Dancing Queen to pop. Something we all know, something you respect, something that, probably, you never need to look at or hear again.

I do think that’s how I feel about the original Super Mario Bros. A masterpiece that I don’t really want to touch. In fact, even though I’ve never played The Lost Levels, I’ve played Super Mario Bros. so much that I approached this almost without curiosity, and after playing it for a while and slamming into its absurd difficulty spikes, I put it down for a long long time.

Because I just found it boring. The story goes that when developing VS. Super Mario Bros., Nintendo’s unusual (US-only!) arcade remix of the NES original, Miyamoto and his team had such fun making the levels more difficult that they thought it would be even more fun if they made an entire game of extremely hard levels–and with Nintendo all-in on the Famicom Disk System, a new Mario game wouldn’t even have to be a huge production. They could just slam it out on disk, quickly.

The thing is… as a level designer, I’m keenly aware that making extremely difficult levels is… well, it’s fun! But it’s fun because it’s easy. You just have to do a couple of things. You make everything that the player has to do require them get it perfect or at the absolute limit of their player character’s abilities. So the platform is as far as it can be for them to land on it at full speed. And then the other thing you do is that you trick the player as much as possible. You know that they need to jump there to make it across, so why not put a block in their way so they’ll bump their head and not make it! Funny!

It’s one of the first thing a level designer does, and I have been as guilty of it as anyone. It’s why games like Limbo are bad, because they’re tuned exactly this way. The player doesn’t play. They just do exactly, exactly what the designer is demanding that they do, with the frustration that what they’re being asked to do is either obscure, difficult, or both.

The funny thing about The Lost Levels, though, is that despite its fierce reputation, the game isn’t made up of only these moments. In fact, when you play the Lost Levels, you become aware of what it is that you’re good at in a Mario game and which parts of the design or controls you’ve never got a hook on. Because while I wouldn’t claim the levels have any meaningful overarching design concept, they generally just… play like a Super Mario Bros. level, until you get to a difficulty spike or a lie.

Playing the Lost Levels, I realized: I’m actually not bad at getting past Hammer Bros.; I guess I’ve internalized how to do it. I can get past fire bars!

But a springboard? Fuck me. It’ll kill me 99 times out of a hundred. I just can’t hit the button at the right time, and maybe I never will. From about the second level of this I’m fucked.

The cleverness, then, of the designers at the time was to work out which of these things were going to fuck the most players. What ways of playing Super Mario Bros. people hadn’t internalised. So it’s not just jumping to hit things at Mario’s limit, sometimes you’re having to awkwardly jump to platforms below you, or hit blocks just right so you don’t immediately suicide and can then get on top of them later.

It’d probably be fine if you didn’t have to generally play through the entire fucking level just to get back to the bit you fucked up! Unlike the classic argument for this (“you’re getting better at the game each time you have to run to the bit you got stuck on!”) here you’re already good at Super Mario Bros. so used to it, generally, that you’re bored of it. And then you do a bit that uses a muscle you’ve maybe never used.

This is probably fun to some people, and I’m sure it was fun to a room full of Nintendo game designers in 1986, but it’s not for me. I mean they really are taking the piss at some points (like 8-2, where the exit is actually completely hidden without a bit of luck or foreknowledge.) 

Some people–many people–are still happy when Dancing Queen comes on the radio. It’s possible you’re one of the people for whom more Mario is always a good thing, who consider the slippy inertia and brown graphics as good as a warm bath. If you are, this is largely more Mario, just sort of unfair in a way that is only rarely interesting.

Will I ever play it again? The Lost Levels, originally Super Mario Bros. 2 “for Super Players” truly was for the super player in that if you could finish it without using warps you got an extra world–where you only got one life. And if you beat the game eight times, you got four extra worlds. I will have a noodle on the SNES port of this one day but I just don’t feel like I need to see any of those extras…

Final Thought: The Lost Levels stands out to me as a situation where an American video game executive actually was correct, which even as I type it I can’t really believe it. Howard Phillips, Nintendo’s product analyst, gave such poor feedback to this that it was decided that it shouldn’t be released in the US.

I don’t think Phillips was thinking this way, but The Lost Levels represents a moment for the Mario franchise where it could have faced stagnation and irrelevance. Nintendo of Japan was thinking in the past. Think of Lode Runner, a series that really doesn’t come up in conversation at all, but in the early 80s was a phenomenon. Sequels and remixes were released endlessly, in a flood, doing nothing but creating more and more difficult and obscure games that you couldn’t even begin to play unless you were a Lode Runner master. I myself remember trying to get past the first level of Hyper Lode Runner on the Game Boy as a kid and never managing it.

It would be possible to hypothesise, actually, that in being forced to remix Doki Doki Panic into Super Mario Bros. 2, Super Mario Bros. 3 as a true evolution of the platform game as a whole was begat.

Not that I’m saying that’s what happened or anything. Just interesting to think about.

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[acti-veg]

Vegan to vegan advice? I've rescued cats and dogs most of my life, and have a couple of best friends currently. I don't make a lot of money, enough to get by and care for myself and them but not enough to afford vegan ''pet'' food, which I've done enough research on to know it's pretty safe for dogs and, with the right nutrients and vet visits, safe for cats. (I think if I'm wrong then let me know) But I can't afford it, which sucks because animals don't deserve to die to feed them, they're lives are more important. And part of me knows it may be irresponsible to rescue any other non-human animals in crisis because that means killing non-human animals for them too, but I can't ignore anyone in need. It just sucks trying to sleep at night constantly remembering how many lives are taken for theirs, what do you think? Any advice or ideas, maybe even some homemade vegan ''pet'' foods that are cheap but have the right nutrients?

I can definitely empathise with this, it’s one of the reasons I don’t have pets myself. I’m afraid I don’t have enough knowledge on animal nutrition to be comfortable offering any recipes, i can’t even speak for the efficacy of the ones I can find online either, so I’ll approach this solely from an ethical perspective.

In rescuing an animal, you commit to adequately provide for their needs, including health, nutrition, stimulation, socialisation etc. You should only rescue if you know you have the time and resources to do that. It sounds like you do have those resources, just not so much that you can afford specialty foods - though that would be something you’d need to factor in if a vet ever prescribed it.

For you, what you have to reckon with is your own comfort levels - rescuing involves providing meat to those animals who need it. It’s fine if you’re not comfortable with that, but in that case you should look towards rescuing herbivorous animals. I do disagree on the idea that we know plant-based foods are safe for dogs and cats, but since that isn’t a viable option for you anyway there is no point in me going into that.

It is worth pointing out that whether you feed these animals or not, they are going to require food derived from other animals - the only question is again how comfortable you are being the one to feed it to them. The alternative is that they stay in the rescue centre, or someone else adopts them and also feeds them food containing meat, or that they don’t get rescued and end up euthanised, which I’d argue is not preferable.

By buying food containing meat, all you’re doing is providing for them what they need with what resources you have, that certainly doesn’t make you any less vegan, even if it does make you feel guilty. You are doing a good thing by rescuing so long as you actually can can afford to keep doing so and don’t over commit, you just need to decide if the guilt you feel over feeding them is enough of a problem to make you want to stop doing it.