#can you believe I originally planned to let him blow himself up

[bharv]

How do you think Gale would treat his sweet lady on their birthday when their family forgot? Feeling sad

"It's fine, Gale. It doesn't matter."

She always does this. In the year that they have been married, he's realised she cannot help but make excuses for other people, to rationalise, to talk herself out of her feelings.

"They're six hundred miles away," she continues, moving to pick up the plates from their breakfast. "Any number of things could have happened to a missive, if they even remembered to send one. Melis has just had twins, so the whole family is busy with-"

"They should have sent something."

"Honestly, Gale. Not everybody is as close to their families as you are with your mother. And perhaps that's a good thing."

Ah, and there was the deflection. The second line of defence. He takes the plates from her hands and puts them back on the table before picking her up into his lap. She tries to wriggle out of it (she hates being picked up when she is irate, or sad, so at least that has confirmed his theory) but he holds onto her waist regardless.

"Gale-"

"It is okay to be disappointed."

She softens slightly, a slight pout of annoyance still on her lips. Then, with a sigh, she lays her head against his shoulder.

"It thought after the wedding, it might be different. I thought things were better between us."

"I know, love."

"It's silly. I'm not a child."

"I think these feelings make us all feel like children again."

He thinks of his father, barely a few miles away in his house with his new family. He has not seen him in decades, and he declined the invite to the wedding, which Gale knew he should not have sent really. He was disowned, after all.

"Listen," he says to her, turning her in his lap and kissing her forehead. "I have such a day planned. Luncheon at Radagar's with fresh fish from the bay, then onto the Temple of Beauty, and an evening at the playhouse for Mellencamp's latest."

"Not Death of Dhanzscul? Gale, those tickets are golddust!"

"Only the very best for you. Forever."

She pulls him to her and kisses him so softly. "I don't deserve you, you know."

"Oh, I think you do quite well in proving otherwise."

"And this morning. No big plans?"

"Well," he says as he picks her up and takes her back through to the bedroom. "Only one."

[ahummingbirdwitch]

Fantasize (Cypher x F!Reader) Part 3

Summary: Part 3 to Fantasize. Read part 1 here and part 2 here!

Pairing: Cypher x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7,042

Warnings: vaginal fingering, p in v sex, blow jobs

Notes: Sorry for the long wait, guys! Here's 7,000 words of Cypher love to make up for it ;)

You’re exciting, boy come find me

Your eyes told me, “Girl, come ride me”

Fuck that feeling both us fighting

Could he try me? Mm, most likely

~~~

Something was off with Cypher.

The last few weeks, he hadn’t seemed quite like himself, but the past few days, it had become even more apparent. He was less present. Less focused. Quieter. He’d always been quiet —but this was a different kind of quiet. The distracted kind; the kind that told you his mind was somewhere else, far away from here.

On missions, he’d hardly been cracking jokes like usual, and only spoke to you to give orders. The rest of the time, he spoke to you even less, and scarcely stuck around for team activities. No doubt, something was troubling him; he seemed more on edge than you’d ever seen him. A couple times, you’d approached him to ask him a question, and he reacted almost as if you’d spooked him. And both times, he’d been quick to leave after giving you the answers you sought.

You weren’t stupid; you knew he was avoiding you. But… why?

In the back of your mind, you’d worried that he’d seen something that night—the night you’d touched yourself to him. If anyone were to find out about it, Cypher—the man with thousands of eyes—would be the first. You’d known it was a possibility even in the heat of the moment, and yet, you’d believed he didn’t know. Because if he did know, surely he wouldn’t act like this.

Cypher never let anything get to him. Ever. He wasn’t emotional. He never let the information he gathered interfere with his work, or his relationships. That was why he was so good at what he did.

Still, though, it worried you. Had you done something to offend him? Annoy him? Or was there something else on his mind that had nothing to do with you, and you were simply always in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Whatever the case, you couldn’t let this go on any longer. Your feelings for him aside, you didn’t want things to continue this way. He was more than just your teammate; he was your friend, wasn’t he? What could be bothering him so much that he couldn’t talk or joke with you like he always did? You wanted to understand, and help if you could.

At the end of the day, as training sessions wrapped up, you searched for Cypher in the common room. When you didn’t find him there, you went out into the hall, heading for the dorms. If he was in his room, there was a low chance you could get him out to talk, but you had to try.

Then, just as you rounded the corner, you ran into him.

Cypher made a sound of surprise when you smacked into him, and you pulled back abruptly, mortified. “Oh, shit!” you exclaimed. “Sorry, sorry.”

The pale blue eyes of his mask blinked at you, and for a second you feared you’d angered him. But unexpectedly, he chuckled. “It’s alright,” he said. “I was…” He glanced away briefly. “I was actually looking for you.”

Your heart jolted so violently you thought it might burst. What? He had been looking for you? “You—you were?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said, still not quite looking at you directly. “I was, well… hoping we could… talk. If you are not busy.”

You were shaking your head before you could even answer him. “No, I’m not busy,” you assured him. “I was—I was actually looking for you just now.”

His eyes seemed to widen. “I… I see. That is…” He trailed off, then cleared his throat again. “Well, er… we should… go somewhere private. I… cannot show you my room, but I know somewhere else that will—”

“We can go to my room,” you said before he could finish. It had been your original plan to speak with him there, if you had succeeded in catching him at the right time, but your heart was pounding now that the words had left your mouth.

Cypher hesitated. “Are… are you sure? I wouldn’t want to—”

“It’s fine,” you promised. You managed a smile, despite how nervous you’d become. “It’s fine, really. Should we, um—go right now?”

“Yes, if you’re sure it’s alright,” he answered slowly.

“It is,” you said earnestly. “This way.”

You led Cypher down the hall to your room, miraculously making it there without your legs giving out from sheer anxiety. Once you were both inside, you closed the door behind you.

The two of you stood in silence for just a moment, and you wondered if he was just as afraid to make the first move as you. Finally, you asked him, “Do you, um—want some water?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he replied, moving to lean against one wall.

Looking around the room, you tried not to panic. What had you been thinking? There was practically nowhere for him to sit apart from the chair by your desk and… your bed. Shit, you were so stupid. Things were already awkward between you two, and you’d only made it worse.

Still, you had to ask. “Do you want to sit down?” you asked, gesturing to your desk chair. “It’s no problem, really.”

“Thank you, but I would prefer to stand,” he returned, sounding oddly grave all of a sudden. “But please, feel free to sit. Do not stand on my account.”

You couldn’t help but be worried by his change in tone. “Well, what exactly are we talking about?” you asked, laughing in spite of—or maybe because of—your apprehension. “Is it something I should sit down for?”

He didn’t laugh, and that made you worry even more. Instinctively, you moved towards the bed, taking a seat at the edge of it, and looked over at him. He was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on the floor. What was going on? Why couldn’t he look at you?

“Cypher?” you said softly. “What is it?”

He lifted his head ever so slightly, then let out a sigh. “I… must be honest with you about something,” he murmured.

You were silent, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your ears.

When he spoke again, you could hear the effort it was taking him to go on. “You know that I see everything,” he continued. “That I have… cameras everywhere. Well…” He swallowed. “I have cameras… in here, as well.”

You froze, and immediately, devastatingly, you knew where this was going.

“I can’t tell you where they are, or why they are here, but—” Cypher turned his head, the brim of his hat covering much of his face. “One night, a few weeks ago, I—”

“You saw me,” you finished for him.

He looked up at you, and even with his mask on, you could tell he was stunned. After a short pause, he nodded. “I… saw you,” he echoed. “And I… heard you.”

You looked down at your hands, feeling as though the room was spinning around you. He knew. He’d known for weeks. Of course he had.

He’d heard you say his name—his codename and his real name. Your throat tightened with realization.

He’d heard you say you loved him.

The words were tumbling out of you before you could stop them. “I’m so sorry.”

A heartbeat passed, then Cypher spoke, his voice startlingly soft. “Why are you sorry?” he asked, bewildered.

You shook your head, unable to look at him. “I just—I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I shouldn’t have—fuck, I’m just—I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”

You were sorry, but for what, you didn’t know. Sorry for yourself? Sorry you hadn’t kept your secret better? Sorry you hadn’t told him?

Sorry you were in love with him at all?

Cypher was quiet for a long moment. You willed yourself not to cry, thinking desperately of what you could possibly say to rectify this situation, but then he said, “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

You raised your head at that. Tentatively, you found the strength to look at him again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that…” He seemed to be searching for the right words. “Well, I mean that… there is no need to apologize. You’ve done… nothing wrong.”

You studied him, wishing more than ever that you could read his expression, understand how he was feeling. What was he trying to say? “You’re not… upset?” you asked, disbelieving.

“No.” He shifted against the wall, eyes still on the floor. “No, I… I’m not upset.”

You believed he was telling the truth, but you could see the discomfort in his stance. He might not be upset with you, but there was still something he wasn’t articulating.

Your throat was so dry; you wished you’d gotten yourself some water before sitting down. “Then… why have you been avoiding me?”

Cypher sighed. “I am… sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—what I mean to say is… avoiding you was… not my intention.”

Something told you he was lying.

“Cypher,” you said, “I—I mean it when I say I’m sorry. I didn’t want to complicate things like this, I just—” It pained you to say it, but you did anyway. You’d do anything to make this right. “It’s nothing, okay? It’s just a little crush. It’ll—it’ll go away.”

Cypher turned his head, meeting your eyes with those ice-cold blue orbs. “You… said my name,” he murmured. “That night.”

You faltered, unable to look away. “I-I—yeah, I did,” you stuttered. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Why did you?” he asked. There was no anger, no accusation behind the question. Only a desire to understand.

You tore your eyes away, occupying yourself with your hands in your lap. “I-I—I just—” You knew your voice was quivering, but you could do little to steady it. “In the moment, I guess I—I don’t know. I wanted to know the real you.”

Cypher did not answer right away. You wished you knew what he was thinking. “You said you… loved me,” he said, in that same soft tone.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “I know,” you whispered, your face burning. “I didn’t know what I was saying. I didn’t—I didn’t mean it. I promise.”

“You… didn’t?”

The softness in his voice took you completely aback. You looked up at him, blinking away the tears that were seconds from gathering. “What?” was all you could say.

“You didn’t mean it?” he asked. “When you… said you loved me.”

You didn’t know what to say. Why was he asking you this? You’d already told him it meant nothing. Unless… he didn’t believe you.

But… why would that matter to him? What did he care whether you loved him or not? Was this just more information he intended to keep for himself, to store away for later?

You shut your eyes, forcing back the tears once more. You could easily lie. You could say it had been nothing. You could say you didn’t know how you really felt, and that would be true, at least partially. You still didn’t understand all this, but you had to give him an answer. There was no way out of this.

And you weren’t a very good liar.

Looking down, you nodded. “I did mean it,” you said. “I meant it in the moment, and… I mean it now.”

Cypher was silent.

“It’s true I have feelings for you,” you went on, needing to get everything out before he said anything back. “I do, but… I care about this job. I care about the agency. And I respect you too much to let this change things.” You wrung your hands together. “I won’t let this get in the way. I’ll—I’ll keep working hard, and if you don’t want to work with me anymore, I—I understand. I just want to do my job. I don’t… I don’t want things to be different. I just want things to go back to normal. Please. ”

You felt the heat of his gaze on you as you waited for him to respond. He said he wasn’t angry, he said you’d done nothing wrong, but why was he so fucking quiet? What was going on in his head? You wished he would just tell you.

Tell me what I have to do, and I’ll do it.

You heard the sound of footsteps, and suddenly, his shadow entered your field of vision. You looked up ever so slightly, and saw that Cypher had moved from his spot nearby; he was standing in front of you now, just a few feet away.

Slowly, he took off his hat, holding it to his chest. “Sweetheart,” he said softly. “I have feelings for you, too.”

It was as if every one of your nerves had been shocked back to life. You stared at him. “You—you do?” you uttered.

“Yes.” He gripped his hat a little tighter. “That night, I… I didn’t mean to see you. I watch everyone, as you know, but… I don’t—I don’t watch them like that. I’m not that kind of man.”

You believed him.

“I saw you, and I heard you say my name, and I…” Every word seemed difficult for him to get out, as though he were frightened to be so vulnerable with you. “I couldn’t… stop thinking about you. For weeks I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was… interfering with my work. I couldn’t focus.”

That much had been obvious. And, if you were being honest, you’d been off your game, too.

“I didn’t understand it at first,” Cypher continued. “I am… never like this. This is not familiar to me. Or at least it… hasn’t been for a long time.” He swallowed. “I realized that… you’ve affected me. I have not been the same since that night. I have feelings for you, and… I thought it best to tell you.”

You were lost for words, mind reeling with the weight of his confession. Cypher had feelings for you. Real feelings. You’d… affected him, without even meaning to. Your heart, confused though it was, had begun to beat madly.

All this time, he’d felt the same way.

You wanted to stand, to meet him at his level, but you were in such a state of shock, you feared you would pass out if you did. “What does this mean?” you asked him, your voice small.

Cypher fidgeted with the brim of his hat. “I… don’t know,” he confessed. “Not yet. All I knew was that I needed to tell you… for both our sakes. But…” He took the smallest step closer to you. “You know that… because of this, and because we are both agents here, nothing will be the same.”

You nodded, knowing it to be true.

“You know that I… can never tell you everything,” he said ruefully. “I can’t tell you about my past. And I can never let you see my face, as much as I may want you to.”

Your heart twisted. “I know.”

Cypher took another step, stopping right at your feet. The tips of his shoes were nearly brushing yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. When he looked down at you, you could almost see the sorrow in his eyes under the mask. “I’m sorry for all of this. For not telling you until now.” He scratched the back of his head with one hand. “I… haven’t done this in so long. I’ve almost forgotten what to do.” He laughed, though there was sadness in the sound. “I would… understand if this is too difficult.”

You peered up at him, still not understanding. “Do you… want to be with me?”

“I…” He had started to fray the edges of his hat. “I, well… I wish to be something with you,” he answered. “I… am not sure what exactly, yet. This is still new to me, and… I don’t understand all of it.” He shuffled his feet. “But… I can never be fully vulnerable with you. I may never be all you need me to be… because of who I am. What I’ve become.” A sigh escaped him. “I am truly sorry if this hurts you.”

Your arms reached out, seemingly moving of their own accord. Before you could think twice about it, you took the sides of his face in your hands. Though your touch no doubt surprised him, he did not pull away. “Cypher,” you whispered. “I… I don’t care.”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t care,” you repeated. “I don’t… I don’t need to see your face. I would never make you show it to me.” You realized just how much you meant that. “I don’t need to know your past. I know something hurt you, something that forced you to hide yourself like this, and… that’s all I need to know.” You could feel a smile forming on your lips, slowly but surely. “I… mean that. I really do.”

He looked at you, his bewilderment evident even with his mask. “You… are really okay? With all of this?” he asked, full of disbelief.

You gave him a feverish nod. “Of course I am,” you said. “I fell for you as you are, didn’t I?” You laughed lightly.

“I…” His mask was warm. Was he blushing under there? “I’m… older, you know,” he mumbled. “I’m… out of practice. W-With—a lot of things. I haven’t been… well…”

You giggled. “That’s okay,” you reassured him. “We can—we can take things slow, okay? We’re still figuring this out.”

Cypher stared at you a moment longer, speechless as you held his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low rasp. “You are… lovely,” he said. “You know that?”

You glanced away, your cheeks hot. “Thank you,” you murmured. “You know, I… I can’t believe you’re really here right now. Are we sure I’m not dreaming?” You chuckled nervously.

Cypher leaned into your touch, dropping lower so that he was eye-to-eye with you. “You’re not,” he said. “And I will prove it to you.”

Before you knew what was happening, he ducked gently out of your grasp, letting his hat drop to the floor. With one hand, he reached for his mask, then took it off.

Your breath caught in your throat. What was going on? Had he changed his mind? Had he decided to show you his face after all?

But under his mask, his face remained hidden. There was another black mask that covered his skull and features, skin-tight like spandex, with the blue orbs over his eyes attached. Cypher grasped the bottom of it, lifting it up just above his nose, and your heart thrummed fiercely in your ribcage. It wasn’t all of it, but it was his face; olive-skinned, angular, with a trimmed, dark beard and a scar on his lip.

His lip. His lips. His lips.

Cypher brought his gloved hand to your face, stroking your jaw. “May I kiss you?” he asked.

You didn’t even answer. You just kissed him.

Your first thought when your lips met his was that he was warm. There was so much warmth coming from him, gentle and encompassing like the sun, and though his beard was a bit rough, his lips were so soft. You melted into the kiss, throwing your arms around his neck. You needed more of him.

This wasn’t a fantasy. This was better than anything you could’ve conjured up.

Cypher matched your eagerness in kind, tangling his fingers in your hair as he kissed you. You felt his tongue at the seam of your lips, catching you by surprise, and you welcomed it inside your mouth, the softest of moans escaping you when it entered.

He pulled back for just a second, hand still in your hair. “Are you alright? Is—Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you breathed before kissing him again.

You tugged at him, pulling him forward as the kiss deepened. You felt his chest on yours, his weight pressing down on you, and then you were falling back onto the bed, Cypher atop you as your mouths remained interlocked. Fiery warmth spread through you, rushing from your face down to your core. You held him closer, moaning when he sucked on your lower lip.

This wasn’t a dream; you were sure of it by now. But what was going to happen? How far did he want to take this?

“Cy—Cypher,” you managed to say against his lips. “Do you—do you want to—”

Cypher stiffened slightly, as if stirring from a trance. “I…” His breath was hot in your mouth. “I— yes. I want to, but—”

“But?” you said.

“I can’t be… naked,” he said breathlessly. “Not completely. I can’t—my body—”

“It’s okay,” you cut in. “You don’t have to. It’s okay.” You kissed the side of his mouth. “Can you—take off some things?”

“Yes,” he answered. He jolted suddenly, like he’d just remembered something. “Wait, wait—do you—do you have condoms?”

You blushed. “Yeah, I-I should have some—somewhere. They should still be good.”

“Okay.” Cypher shook his head, reining himself back in. “I—I’m sorry. If I’d known, I would have prepared for—”

You shut him up with another searing kiss.

No more talking. Just show me what you can do.

Cypher grunted into the kiss, carding his fingers through your hair. Slowly, steadily, he began to move against you. “ Ghzâla, ” he whispered.

The word sent a shiver down your spine. “What does—that mean?” you asked between kisses.

“Lovely,” he rasped.

You shuddered. You felt his thigh rub between your legs, and your hips thrust up instinctively. You dug your nails into the back of his coat. “Please.”

Cypher broke away from your lips, kissing your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck. “What do you want?” he asked. “Do you want me to touch you?”

You didn’t hesitate to answer him. “Yes.”

He kissed the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Where?”

The two of you had only just started, and you were already falling apart. “Everywhere,” you whimpered.

His lips were at your collarbone. “Everywhere?”

Holy shit, was he teasing you? This was too much. “Yes, everywhere,” you responded, trying not to sound as desperate as you felt. “Please, just—just touch me.” You’d dreamed about this for so long; there was no more holding back.

Impatient, you reached for your shirt, yanking it out from where it had been tucked into your pants. Noticing at once, Cypher acted accordingly, taking the hem from you and hoisting it up. You lifted your arms, and he pulled it off swiftly, exposing your bra and bare upper body. He leaned back, sitting up on his knees as he looked you over hungrily. “Beautiful,” he said, breathless. “So beautiful.”

You moved to unzip your pants, but he was faster this time, pulling them down with palpable desperation. Once he’d gotten them off, leaving you in only your undergarments, he put his hand to your panties. His touch was featherlight, but the second you felt it, it was like one of Neon’s electric shocks. You bit your lip to keep from moaning.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, adding just a little more pressure.

You let out the tiniest of gasps. You were soaked already, and you were sure he could feel it. He was so close to where you needed him. “Yes. Please.”

He stroked the outside with two fingers, feeling the shape of you through the fabric. His lips were parted, as if he were awestruck by you. “So wet,” he uttered, half to himself.

Unable to help yourself, you bucked against his hand. “Cypher,” you begged. “ Please. ”

He looked at you once, and that was enough to get him to focus. He made quick work of his coat and belts, then tore the gloves off his hands, setting them aside before flexing his freed fingers. They were the same color as his face, and just as scarred, with nails trimmed impeccably.

Thank goodness.

Cypher took hold of your panties, tugging them gently down your hips. Without speaking, he brought two fingers to your entrance, gathering your slick to coat the tips. Then, in one gentle motion, he plunged one inside of you.

You threw your head back, moaning as he entered. Cypher parted your walls with painstaking care, and you did your best to relax for him, knowing your pussy was strangling his finger with everything it had. It’d been months since you’d last had sex, and though you pleasured yourself often, the feeling of someone else’s finger inside you still came as a shock. You could feel every inch of it; the ridges, the callouses, the knuckle pressing up against the outside of you.

It was so good.

“Cypher,” you whined, feeling cockdrunk even at the small penetration. “Please.”

He was watching you intently, maintaining a steady pace with his finger. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

“No.” He curled it inside you, and you gasped. “No, don’t stop, please.”

“I won’t,” he promised. He sat back on the edge of the bed, studying you like a man entranced. He did not slow down.

He pumped deeper, hitting your g-spot, and you moaned louder, urging him to keep going. You were gone already, lost in the sensation. The dorms could be on fire outside this room, and still you wouldn’t care. Cypher was alone with you, touching you, and it was everything you wanted and more.

“N-Need you,” you blurted out. “I need you. Please.”

Cypher tilted his head, looking at you curiously. “What do you need, dear?”

The sweetness in his voice was killing you. “You,” you pleaded. “ You. I��” You were cut off by your own moan when his thumb brushed your clit. “Please. Please, can we—”

“You want to?” He leaned over you. “Already?”

“ Yes. ” You hardly recognized your own voice, so heavy with need.

“Yes, we can, but—are you ready?” he asked, concerned.

“Yes, yes, please,” you babbled. “Please, I just—I need you.” Under normal circumstances, you would be more embarrassed with yourself, but right now, you were too flustered, too hot with desire to care.

“Okay.” Cypher nodded, understanding, and carefully withdrew his finger with a wet pop. You shivered as it left you, watching him get up from the bed and look around. “You—said there were condoms somewhere, yes?”

“Y-Yeah.” You forced yourself to focus, if only for a few seconds. “Check—check the drawer. Right there.”

You pointed to your night table, and he went to it, opening a drawer to search inside. As he rummaged, you sat up, removing your bra and panties faster than you’d ever done in the past. After a minute, Cypher turned, a wrapped condom in hand. When he saw you, his jaw dropped.

Actually dropped. For once, you could see his mouth, and know what was on his mind.

“Sweetheart,” he said, mystified, “you didn’t have to—I would have understood if—”

“Just shut up and get over here,” you ordered, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him forward.

Cypher collapsed onto the bed, head hitting the pillows as you climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. He looked up at you, mouth still open with awe. “You’re beautiful,” he marveled.

“So are you,” you replied before bending down to kiss him.

Cypher opened up for you eagerly, his tongue parting your lips with ease. “You—you don’t know that,” he breathed. “You’ve never seen my face. I could be ugly under here.”

You ground your body against him, nipping at his lower lip. “I know you’re not.”

He made a low sound in his throat, grabbing hold of your thighs. He kissed you hard, squeezing your soft flesh. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked when he finally broke free.

“ Yes, ” you answered firmly. You were naked on top of him, spreading slick all over his pants, and kissing him like you needed him to breathe. What more did you have to do to convince him?

You looked at him beneath you, face still half-covered by his mask. You could tell he wanted you; you could feel it in his lap. But as much as you craved him, you needed to be sure. “Do you want this?” you whispered.

Cypher gripped your thighs. “I-I do,” he said. “I do. I’ve wanted this for weeks. It’s just… been a long time.”

You understood. You wanted this so badly, wanted to jump right in, but you would go at his pace. “We can take this slow,” you promised. “I won’t take anything off of you. Not unless you want me to.”

He smiled, and your heart swelled. “Thank you, sokar. ”

You gave him a curious look. “What does that one mean?”

He grinned. “I will tell you later.” He reached for the condom, unwrapping it from its package, then met your eyes. “Will you help me? Please?”

“Oh. Y-Yeah. Yeah.” You shifted in his lap, moving aside so you could undo his belt. Once it was gone, you unzipped his pants to reveal his boxers underneath, feeling around gently until you found an unmistakable hard shape. Cypher made a soft noise when you touched it, and you looked up, fearing you’d done something wrong. But then he gave you a nod, encouraging you, and you got back to work.

Deftly, you freed his cock, bringing it out into the open, and abruptly sucked in a breath at the sight of it.

You’d been right. He was big.

It was long and thick, that same lovely tone as the rest of him, with dark hair trimmed short. “What did I tell you?” you said, dumbstruck. “You are beautiful.”

Cypher laughed. “You’re too sweet,” he remarked. “Pretty girl.”

Those words, spoken so affectionately, got you riled up in a way you’d never felt before. Remembering your task, you took the condom and brought it to the head of his cock, unrolling it all down the shaft. Cypher very nearly whimpered as you did so, and that made you all the more determined to get it done.

Once you’d covered him completely, you spread your legs, positioning yourself over his cock. “Do you want to start like this?” you asked him. “Or do you want to be on top?”

Cypher’s hands found their way back to your thighs, gripping them. “Like this,” he murmured. “Just go slow, dear. Please.”

Your heart fluttered, your whole body ablaze. This was really happening. You were about to have sex with him, and he was letting you take control.

You brought yourself lower, gasping when the head of his cock met your entrance. Taking a deep breath, you went even lower, then all at once, you were easing yourself onto him.

You moved slowly, walls splitting as you took him inside of you. It was a light sting at first, only the head of him penetrating you, then the further you went, the more you could feel yourself being opened, spread apart by his massive length. You were helpless not to moan as you went, the pain quickly replaced by mind-numbing, mouth-watering pleasure the deeper you took him. There was some resistance on the way, but at last, he bottomed out, and when you sat yourself fully in his lap, he moaned in tandem with you.

“Shit,” you gasped. “You’re so big.”

Cypher breathed out shakily, chest heaving as he adjusted to a sensation he likely hadn’t felt in years. His hands still grasped your thighs, his grip tightening after a heartbeat. “So tight,” he groaned. “Does it—does it hurt?”

“N-No,” you said, clenching around him without meaning to.

He winced, though not in pain. To your surprise, he rolled his hips up into you. “Please,” he uttered. “Please.”

His plea took your breath away. Knowing at once what he wanted, you began to move, sliding yourself up and down his length. You were so wet, it was effortless, even without the condom’s lubrication. You placed your hands on his chest, supporting yourself as you took him in and out, in and out. This couldn’t be real. Nothing this good could ever be real. “Cypher,” you moaned.

“That’s good,” he choked out. He thrust up into you, almost shyly, then he did it again, and again. Each time, you let out a whine, and that seemed to spur him on. “Good girl. Yes. ”

You moved faster, needing more of his praise, more of him. You were fucking him. He was fucking you. “S-So good,” was all you could get out.

He chuckled in between moans. “You’re so good, sokar, ” he cooed. “So—so pretty.”

There was that nickname again. You tightened around him, forcing a strangled noise from him. “Please,” you whimpered.

He tilted his head up. “What is it, dear?”

“Please, I—” You couldn’t put it to words. You couldn’t think right now—how could you? How could anyone? There was only pure, overpowering need. Driven by instinct alone, you leaned down and took his face in your hands, kissing him hard.

If your first kiss with him was a flame, this was an inferno. It was as though all your desire for him, all that lust and desperation that had built inside you for months had finally risen to the surface, taking control of you now. You claimed his mouth greedily, feverishly, and he kissed you with the same ferocity, digging bruises into your thighs. You nipped at him, clutching the sides of his face as you tasted him, his tongue colliding with yours. You wanted to devour him. You wanted to make him yours.

Cypher thrust into you harder and faster, holding your hips in place, making you mewl into the kiss. “ Please, ” you whined.

“You like that?” he panted. “Is this—what you imagined that night? When you touched yourself?”

You moaned, faltering with every thrust. “Yes,” you said feebly. You could barely remember your fantasy that night; it paled in comparison to this. “Yes, yes, I wanted this…”

You could almost see his eyes rolling back. “Sweet girl,” he groaned. “Why me?”

You hadn’t expected that question. “What? What do you— mm —mean?”

“Why me,” he repeated, his voice low and gravelly. “Why not Phoenix, or Sova, or— anyone in Valorant? Why me, sweetheart?”

For a moment, you didn’t know how to answer. The answer itself was so simple, but… why was he asking this? Why now? “Because—because you’re you,” you responded, fighting to speak clearly. “Because you’re—you’re Cypher. You’re smart and—and kind and—” You cut yourself off with a shrill moan when he hit you just right. “You’re—you’re just—”

For several seconds, Cypher said nothing, processing your words. Then, all of a sudden, he grabbed your face, forcing you to look straight at him. “Do you love me?” he asked, panting.

With your bodies so close like this, his hands on your face and his heart beating with yours, there was only one answer. “Yes,” you moaned out. “I-I do.”

He did not look away from you, not letting up on the rough pace he had set. “Say it,” he whispered. It wasn’t an order. It was a plea.

Cypher released you, pushing you back gently. You sat up straight in his lap, bouncing on his cock as he continued to thrust. You obeyed without question. “I love you.”

“Please,” he said.

“I love you,” you chanted. “I love you, I love you. ” You meant it, with every fiber of your being.

“Say my name,” he said, nearly begging. “ My name.”

“Amir,” you breathed. “I love you, Amir.”

Cypher made a sound so new, so vulnerable that you could hardly believe it came from him at all. It was soft, halfway between a moan and a whine. “ Sokar, ” he uttered.

You gripped the edges of his shirt. “Amir.”

He said your name. Your real name, not your codename.

Reaching down, you searched for your clit, circling it with two of your fingers. “Amir.”

He said your name again and again, like a prayer.

You rubbed your clit harder, the coil inside you so close to snapping. “I love you,” you gasped. “I’ve loved you for months. I love—I love everything about you. Amir. ”

“ Ghzâla, ” he said weakly. He sounded so frail, like a man about to break.

“I love it all,” you went on. You were babbling now, but you didn’t care. “I love—I love the way you look, the way you talk. I-I—I love your laugh, your—”

“Sweetheart,” he interrupted. “Stop, please—I’m close.”

“Then cum for me,” you said without hesitation. Your body jerked at the pleasure from your clit, and you clenched around him with a gasp. “Cum for me, please. ”

Cypher breathed out harshly. “Stop,” he pleaded. “No more, please. I’m going to cum.”

You were so close, too, you could feel it. “Cum inside me,” you begged.

He bit his lip, and for a moment, he seemed to be considering it. He groaned, gritting his teeth, then shook his head wildly. “No—no, I can’t.”

You wanted to argue, to moan and beg until he popped like a cork inside you. You wanted it so badly. You wanted to be his, in a way no one was. Not Nora, or anybody else.

But you couldn’t. Not like this.

Without saying a word, you obeyed him, moving off of his lap just as he cried out, gasping for air as he came. His cock pulsed inside the condom, filling it to the brim with thick seed. You laid on your side, watching him as he grabbed the base of his cock and pumped it, groaning while he rode the wave of his orgasm—the likes of which he probably hadn’t experienced in years.

It took him a moment to come down from his high. When his body relaxed, no longer convulsing, Cypher sat up slowly and exhaled. He said nothing yet, still catching his breath, but when he turned and looked at you, he suddenly sprang into action.

He pinned you down before you had time to react, holding your arms above your head with one hand. You stared up at him, startled, only to moan sharply when you felt his fingers at your clit, rubbing it ardently. You tried to say something, to ask what he was doing, but you couldn’t form a single word. 

Cypher grinned down at you. “Your turn, lovely girl,” he purred. “Let yourself go.”

Holy shit, it was so good. “A-Amir,” you mewled. “Fuck, please —”

“Almost there, yes,” he coaxed, breathy with effort. “You did so well. Cum for me now.”

You were drowning. You were drowning in pleasure and it was all him, him, him. “P-Please—”

“Cum now,” he cooed into your ear. “Let me hear you.”

That command, spoken so softly, was all you needed. You wailed as you reached your peak, loud enough that someone outside could’ve heard you. Your pussy, still gushing from earlier, fluttered and clenched around nothing as you came, and Cypher’s fingers on your clit slowed to a soothing rhythm. “Good girl,” he murmured. “So good. I knew you could do it.”

You panted, collecting yourself as your heart calmed and your body went still on the bed. You pussy throbbed, and the sheets beneath you were soaked, but words could not describe how elated you were.

Cypher wanted you just as much as you wanted him. He’d just fucked you stupid, and made you cum.

The man himself looked down at you now, smiling. “Feeling okay?” he asked, moving a strand of hair from your forehead.

You gave him an “Are you serious?” look. “Better than okay,” you answered, smiling back. “I think I could walk on air right now, honestly.”

He chuckled. “So sweet,” he said. “That’s why I call you sokar. ”

“Are you going to tell me what that means already?” you asked humorously.

He smiled. “Sugar.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Cypher leaned down, pressing a kiss to your cheek before sitting up and stretching. “I should get cleaned up,” he said, eyeing the stuffed condom. “It was… a lot. It has… been a while, as you know.”

You looked at the condom too—Jesus, it was a lot. Still woozy from your climax, your body warm all over, you had an idea all of a sudden. “Wait,” you said. “Let—let me.”

He turned, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

You scooted closer to him, deciding to show rather than tell. Sliding off of the bed, you settled on your knees at his feet, taking your condom in your hands and gingerly rolling it up his cock. Cypher’s breath hitched when you pulled it off of him, but just before anything could drip from his shaft, you latched your mouth around his cock.

The moan that came out of him was better than you could’ve hoped. Clutching the base of his cock, you sucked up the remaining cum, licking and cleaning and swallowing. Cypher groaned as you worked, one hand coming down to grip your hair, and you did not stop until all of it was gone.

When you’d finished, you got to your feet, then disposed of the condom. Cypher was still sitting on the edge of the bed, hands on his thighs, flushed and panting like he’d just fucked you all over again. “You,” he said, his voice low. “I was—I was not expecting that.”

You giggled. Something about seeing him like this—so affected by you—was utterly amazing. You sat beside him on the bed, the mattress dipping under the weight of you both. “Sorry for the surprise,” you said, only half-apologetically.

“N-No, I—” He cleared his throat. “No, that was, I—” He laughed, avoiding your eyes. “Please do that again sometime.”

You laughed too.

You knew it was partly the hormones, but you felt so different now. Lighter. Freer. So much had just happened, in such a short span of time. Everything had changed between you and Cypher—but you welcomed it with open arms.

You liked him, and he liked you. Neither of you had to hide it anymore.

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “Will you stay?” you asked. “Just a little bit longer?”

Cypher wrapped one arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him. He was quiet for just a moment, then finally, he answered, “Yes. For a little while.”

Hope you guys enjoyed!

[scoobydoodean]

speaking of your "15.20 is like a punishment for Sam" idea, I've thought that Dean's death, Sam living on, etc. was supposed to echo the season 3 finale, except with a sort of remixing of Sam & Dean's roles.

imo it was only a few minutes that Dean was in heaven without Sam, because Bobby says time works differently in heaven ("Time up here, it's… it's different. You got everything you could ever want… or need or… dream.") in what seems like a deliberate echo of Dean's line around his time in hell ("It was four months up here, but down there… I don't know. Time's different.") so: in 3.16, Sam isn't able to save Dean, Dean dies & goes to hell, Sam goes on his revenge quest vs. 15.20 Sam isn't able to save Dean, Dean dies & goes to heaven, Sam lives a 'normal' life until he dies & reunites w/ Dean. Dean spends 40 years in hell, Sam 4 months on earth; Dean spends a few minutes (say 4) in heaven, Sam spend ~40 years on earth/in metaphorical 'hell' or at least in grief before finally reuniting w/ Dean. as you say, all the people Sam is closest to die/leave and he just has to live on for decades after. he does get his 'reward' in going to heaven and reuniting with Dean and everybody else, but still!

(on a writing level, it feels revealing to me that the writers didn't go with a remix of season 3's original ending, of Sam being able to save Dean. because the actual season 3 ending didn't happen naturally but because of real-world setbacks. yeah yeah Dean dying & Sam carrying on it fits with the show's focus on how people deal with death and death's inevitability, but... idk, there's something about it that just feels off to me. can't explain it logically though.)

Yeah that's one of the other Big Things for me about the ending of Supernatural is that it presents Sam as a failure who tried over and over to save his brother but always failed. He wanted to save Dean in season 3 and failed repeatedly and it ripped him apart. He deluded himself into thinking (to an extent) that he was saving Dean somehow in season 4 (see: 4.12 and 4.18) but he epically failed. Season 5 was supposed to culminate in some sort of redemption in a way, but then Sam came back soulless and harmed Dean. Then in 8.14, he promised to save Dean from his suicidal thoughts, but then became suicidal himself, tried to kill himself, blamed Dean for not Sam not killing himself, and then Dean did something reckless (take on the Mark of Cain) as a build up to literal years of depression and then again at the end of season 9, culminating in his death (and Sam was trying to be there but Dean got stabbed through the heart anyway). Then Sam makes a series of incredibly morally dubious plays to save Dean in season 10 but unleashes the darkness at the same time, which again—culminates in Dean needing to die to save the world at the end of season 11 (with a brief stint where Sam tries to take on the Mark of Cain but fails). Then Dean succeeds in stopping the world from ending all on his own, and comes to save Sam from the BMoL. Then Dean agrees to be possessed by AU Michael to save Sam and Jack. Then Dean makes the box plan and Sam insists Dean not get in the Mal-ak box and that he trust Sam to fix all of this. Then they don't actually fucking fix it. It all blows up in their faces and causes a chain reaction like so many dominos toppled over.

And over all of that time... Sam also has a fixation on trust. He wants Dean to trust him so bad, but Sam never actually succeeds at the things he promises/wants and tries to get Dean to believe he can do so bad (without dire consequences). And I don't think Dean resents Sam for that, and I really don't actually think he distrusts Sam either in the late series. But I think it weighs on Sam and that's part of why he has a fixation on trust to begin with that he can never really let go of. All that to say... if I had to summarize the "brothers" storyline, it culminates in Sam failing at the number one thing he wanted to accomplish most: save Dean from a young and bloody death. And the fact that the majority of the people who claim to love Sam and Dean's brotherhood more than anything celebrate that as poetic disgusts me, because there is nothing poetic about it at all. It's meaningless garbage that makes Sam look like an utter failure who is being punished.

[pricetagofficial]

How Far We Fall -D.G.

Warnings: Language, angst, mentions of death, child loss, therapy, trauma, attempted murder, poor Tim is caught in the middle of this

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: You guys voted for the angst, well you got the angst. I don't actually remember how I came up with this. All I remember is that I wanted to write pain, and well here I am!

I am not sorry, you guys wanted this.

Dick couldn’t believe what he was looking at, here you were in front of him with a dagger to his younger brother’s throat, Tim’s throat, and a murderous look in your eyes. 

He watched as Robin squirmed in your hold, desperate to get away but one wrong move and his throat would be slit and there would be no going back. 

Batman tensed beside him, ready for a fight to save his youngest. Somehow, you had gotten past their security and wormed your way into their lives. Somehow, you fit in so well they didn’t even think twice before accepting you. 

That was their mistake. 

“Y/N–” Dick held a hand out, the glove of his suit palm up as if he was trying to convince you to come back to him. “Let him go, and we can talk about this.” 

“Talk? You want to talk?” you scoffed. “Fine then. Why don’t we talk about the reason why we’re here.” 

After years of planning, this was your moment to get back at the Batman. Back at him for everything you’ve lost because of him and his senseless no-killing rule. If he didn’t have that rule, you wouldn’t be holding his youngest at knifepoint threatening to take his son from him, like he took your daughter. 

How could he have been so blind? So smitten with you, the idea of who you were, Dick gave you everything including his secret identity without so much as batting an eye. 

“Y/N, please–” he pleaded, trying to keep his voice from breaking, “He’s just a kid–” 

“So was my daughter!” you screamed, voice echoing off the walls around you. “She was barely a year old and it’s your fucking fault!” 

Dick stopped in his tracks at your words, what were you talking about? After living with you for the last six months, he would have noticed if you had a kid. 

“What are you talking about?” Dick asked, his eyes not leaving you or Tim. 

Your jaw tensed as your eyes flitted past Dick and stared at the man responsible. “Two years ago, October 31st.” 

Halloween, two years ago? Dick looked behind him towards Bruce; he was in Bludhaven at the time, but he heard how bad it was. The Joker and Mad Hatter decided that blowing up a city block or two and dosing them with gas was a good trick-or-treat gift. Bruce struggled hard and kept Robin inside that night. He was about to open his mouth when Bruce spoke up. 

“You were there,” his voice rumbled through the air making your nerves stand on end. 

“Of course I was there.” you hissed. “I was trapped in the rubble for 4 hours, another 3 before they found her.” 

Dick didn’t miss the way your voice wavered, nor the way your grip loosened on the knife. Tim didn’t seem to either, before steadying himself on his feet. 

“I lost the most important person in my life because you can’t keep your fucking city in check.” Your grip on Tim’s cape tightened, pulling him back into you. “And now I’ll take someone important to you.” 

Batman let out an audible growl before Dick jumped between him and yourself. 

“Y/N stop! Think this through!” 

“I have thought it through,” you spoke, voice unnaturally calm despite the circumstances. “You were my original target, Dick.” 

Dick’s blood ran cold at your words, you were planning to kill him? 

 You laughed. “But somehow you wriggled your way into my heart and I couldn’t kill you, so I had to improvise.” 

“So you kidnap a child to prove a point?” 

“I’m fourteen,” 

“Not now, Tim.”

You hardened your gaze, “There’s no going back for me, Dick. This is where it ends.” 

Daring to take a step towards you, Dick pulled the mask off his eyes. 

“Nightwing–” 

“Bruce now is not the time.” Turning his attention back on you, Dick kept a calm look on his face despite the terror coursing through him. He failed one brother, he couldn’t fail another. 

“Come back with me. Let Tim go and we can go home and forget this ever happened.” 

You scoffed. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know how this works. The second I let the kid go, he’s going to go running to you while Batman leaves me a bloody pulp for the police to find.” 

Dick sighed, dropping his head before he looked at you once more. “You’re right, we can’t just forget this. But we can get you help, get you to the right people.” 

Pressing the knife to Tim’s throat, you felt him tense under your hold. “I’m not going to that hellhole you call Arkham.” 

Taking another step, Dick shook his head. “No, not Arkham. But the second you hurt Tim, I can’t stop them from sending you there.” 

Swallowing hard, you took a look around. What were you doing? Dick had a point, Tim was a child no matter how many times he pointed out to you how old he was. Were you really going to kill him because Batman was responsible for the death of your baby?

Meeting Dick’s eyes again, you could see why he removed the mask. It was so you could see the expression in them, the longing, the hope that you would let his brother go and take his hand. 

The blue in his eyes stood out in the darkness around you, almost matching the blue of his suit. After all this, did he really think the two of you could go back to what you were before? He really trusted you enough not to try something like this again?

“Trust me, Y/N. Please?” 

Hearing those words, you dropped the knife. 

Immediately, Tim darted forward past Dick to Bruce. Dick was on his knees, catching you as your weight gave in and you collapsed into his arms. 

Unable to stop the tears, you cried into Dick’s chest. “It’s not fair!” 

Running a hand through your hair, Dick held you as you cried. Placing a kiss on the crown of your head, he closed his eyes. 

“I know baby, I know it’s not.” 

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

Months passed and true to his word, Dick got you the help you needed without going to Arkham. Your relationship was strained but on the mend. No matter how much he promised it would all be okay, you knew they wouldn’t forget let alone forgive the fact that you tried to kill Tim out of revenge. 

You lost count of how many times you apologized to him and Bruce, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. Not for a while at least. 

Keeping your part of the promise, you sought help professionally at least once a week. Your session that afternoon wasn’t bad, but it was exhausting. Recounting the events of that Halloween to someone again drained all the energy you had left within you.

You were currently standing on the balcony of your apartment when you heard a soft thud behind you. Hearing the sound of light footsteps behind you, you felt a pair of hands rest on your shoulders. 

“Hey, what are you doing up this late?” 

Dick’s voice was tired but laced with worry, worry for you and your sleeping habits. He must have just finished his patrol for the night. 

Placing a hand on his, you smiled softly. It meant a lot that Dick stuck around when anyone else would have left you by this point. You felt a pair of lips brush your cheek before you were pulled back into his hold, warm and safe. 

“I’m okay, Dickie.” you hummed. “Just thinking I guess,” 

You didn’t have to see the look on Dick’s face to know that he was frowning. 

“You should be asleep,” he started. 

“I tried,” 

Dick sighed and rested his head on your shoulder. “I know it’s hard when I’m not there, but you have to try.” 

“Dick please, don’t start this tonight,” you begged, turning to bury your face in his chest. “I don’t have the energy for it.” 

Wrapping his arms around you fully, Dick held you close. The nightmares must have been bad this time if you were refusing to try again without him near you. Placing a kiss on the top of your head, Dick led you inside. 

“Alright, let me just get changed and we can catch some z’s together okay?” 

Nodding slowly, you let go of him but kept a grip on his fingers. The only time you let go of his hand was when he had to pull off his suit. Once he had sweats on, Dick pulled you along to the couch and rested you on top of his chest. 

Slowly you melted into his warmth as he turned on the T.V. letting the old reruns play as you listened to the sound of his heartbeat. 

Now that Dick knew the full story, he could see all the symptoms and signs you gave him from the very beginning. It was surprising how he missed them in the first place, with the way you left things around the place it was almost as if you wanted to be caught before it was too late. 

After a while, he heard the soft sounds of your breath against his bare chest and smiled softly. This was the only way you could sleep, with him next to you. Dick promised he was going to help you, and help is what you were going to get. 

Of course, Dick got the biggest lecture from Bruce, for the millionth time about why we don’t flaunt secret identities around. But Dick knew he could trust you. What he wanted to know was if you could trust him. 

Dick knew that death and loss made people do crazy things, he had been down that path before when his parents died, and again when Jason died. It was a hard one to come back from, but Dick planned on being there for you every step of the way, for as long as you would let him.

@bluejay-the-geek @niggxrette @offendedfishnoises @restwellsoon @littleredwing89

[johanarchy]

Lately I've been having a lot of fun creating some Chaos Marine OCs and I thought I might introduce them here !

So behold ! A very unlikely friend group :

The Iron Warrior is called Cassius Merle, the Death Guard is Mychos Ankou and the Emperor's Child is named Antares Fitz.

I have a whole story for how they met, but the short version is that they all got stranded on a ruined world after the end of the 13th Black Crusade and had to team up to get away.

I have informally named them The Smelly Trio because they all stink. They bicker. They share a braincell. Together they can overcome anything.

Mychos and Antares are in a romantic relationship. No one understands how it happened, least of all the two of them. Cassius is in some kind of queerplatonic partnership with both, though he would rather die than to admit that he actually likes them.

More doodles and yapping under the cut (ft me not being fully set on what their armours look like)

"I really don't care for the Gods. Like everything, they serve a purpose, but I have never needed their help blowing walls up, and I don't see why that should change."

Cassius is the youngest, he was recruited just a few decades before the Black Crusade. As most post-Heresy Chaos Marines, he isn't his Primarch's gene-son; he comes from Imperial Fist geneseed, something he feels extremely angsty about.

He's short of height and of temper, and though he tries very hard to be the hypercompetent brain of the group, he is absolutely not suited for leadership, or for functionning outside of the rigid structure of his legion. That's not his fault, he was just never really taught critical thinking. Or proper social skills.

He likes manual labor, it makes him feel useful and lets him turn his brain off, both things he desperately needs.

"You misunderstand me. I do not wish for the end of humanity. Humanity delights me, like all species of living beings do. But to think that, just because I am part of it, that I should believe it above the laws of nature ? No, this is something that I cannot accept."

Mychos is the oldest, having actually been part of one of the first waves of Death Guards from Barbarus. He used to be, and technically still is, an apothecary, but nowadays his duty is mainly to create more and more elaborate biological weapons for his fellow Plague Marines to use.

He carries himself with the unnerving friendliness and cheerfulness that only nurglites can have, and with a sort of "gentle giant" attitude that makes many people dismiss him as slow and simple minded; but do not be deceived, this is a wisened veteran who knows the world he lives in, he's just very chill about it.

He is a big nature lover, with a soft spot for fungi, which he lets grow over his exposed bones. He tends to start little gardens in every place he stays in for more than a few weeks, something he is exceptionally skilled at. He talks to all living things in his little ecosystems, plants, fungi, insects, even bacteria, and sometimes they actually answer.

"The problem with the Imperium is that it's run by losers and prudes who have never had a single minute of fun in their lives, and they expect everyone else to be as miserable as them or die. I say fuck them. Do whatever you want. If your so-called-God has a plan, you won't live long enough to see it happen anyway."

Antares is also fairly old, being of the original Emperor's Children stock, but he joined the legion at the tail end of the Great Crusade, just before the Heresy, so to him, the influence of Slaanesh has always been an integral part of it.

As such, he became the very picture of selfish hedonism; indulging his impulses and never thinking about consequences. This makes him a pretty bad soldier, as he does not respond well to authority and struggles greatly with delayed gratification. His saving grace is his skill as a fighter, especially on difficult terrain where his satyr-like mutations offer him great mobility. He had to heavily modify his armour to accomodate his legs, but his own vanity was also very much a factor in some of the choices.

Like any good slaaneshi, he loves his drugs and sex and music, but his true passion is food. He is teaching himself to cook, to varrying degrees of success, but mostly he tends to pillage the kitchens of whatever place he is helping raid at the moment. His taste is not refined, he just chases intensity in flavour.

I have more to say but it would take entirely too long to type it all up so I will stop there for now. Thank you for your time !

[planetgutz]

kill bill

✶ content: a little bit of angst ??, makeup sex, vaginal sex, fingering, praise, dirty talk, creampie, the l bomb (a few times cuz im sappy), dom leaning mammon

✶ pairing: ex boyfriend!mammon x fem!reader

you and mammon had broken up about three months ago. you couldn't deal with his constant schemes to further his wealth, some of these schemes even dragging you down with him. the last straw for you came when the avatar of greed suggested to you that the both of you could monetize your sex life, starting an nsfw page on twitter and accepting donations.

you almost couldn't believe what you were hearing. mammon had always told you that you were just his, he wasn't willing to share you with anyone else. this was a major blow to you so you ended the relationship right then and there. you can still remember how mammon tried to act indifferent as if he couldn't care less, as tears welled in his eyes and threatened to spill over. you hadn't spoken to him or any of the other brothers since then, opting to stay with simeon, solomon, and luke for the time being.

"y/n, we know we love you but you can't stay here forever," luke tells you one day while you're brushing his hair. solomon looks up from the book he's reading, obviously amused. you stop brushing luke's hair. "i know that, i just can't bring myself to face any of them still" solomon laughs from his side of the room and you shoot him a death glare.

"it's best to just rip the bandaid off now, diavolo only gave you this accommodation temporarily anyway"

you reflect on this for a moment and can't help but agree. the group of boys had all been so kind to you in your time of need, you didn't want to continue mooching off of them. you pat luke's head and turn back to solomon. "you know, for once, you're actually right, i have to face them, including him" the boys in the room notice the way your expression changes when you mention mammon, even without saying his name.

solomon walks over and places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "you don't have to leave right away if you don't want to, you're always welcome here" you give him a soft smile and stand to face him and luke. "like you said, it's best to rip the bandaid off now"

the three of you wait until simeon returns to tell him your plans of returning to your original dorm. as sad as he is to see you go, he agrees that its the best for you. the boys help you pack up your things and escort you back to the main dorms.

"y/n, if you want to come back at any point, just call us and we'll come get you right away" simeon tells you, pulling you into a tight embrace. you nod and wave goodbye to the three as you roll your suitcase towards the front door. a foreboding dread looms over you as your hand hovers over the door. so many memories made here, both good and bad. you muster up the courage to knock on the door. you hear rushed footsteps, a crash followed by a loud curse, and then the door swings open.

it's him.

mammon is stunned, probably never expecting to see you again. he's frozen for a moment before collecting himself. "it's uhm good to see ya, mc" you expected it to be this awkward. you nod. "yea good to see you too, mammon, i'm here to move back in" you say, gesturing towards your suitcase. his eyes widen at that for a moment before returning to normal.

"yeah, of course, come right in" mammon steps aside to let you into the house. he leads you to your old bedroom, stopping when the two of you get to the door. you expect the two of you to part ways but instead, he speaks up. "mc, can we talk please?" you blink owlishly at him before nodding and leading him into your bedroom. you both side on your bed, ample distance between each other.

for some reason, all the memories of the things you and he had done in this room come flooding back. hot and intense memories invade your brain, causing you to clear your throat and cross your legs. mammon takes notice of this but doesn't say a word. "so what did you have to talk to me about?" mammon turns to you, deadly serious.

"listen, i know you probably won't forgive me but i'm sorry, i've regretted what i did since you left 'cuz i lost the love of my life"

he pauses.

"i just want you to know that not a day has gone by where i didn't think of ya, mc" he sighs and moves to stand and leave, already anticipating rejection. you reach out and grab his arm. "mc, huh wh-"

you cut him off, slamming your lips against his. the kiss is returned almost instantly, mammon moving to wrap his arms around your waist. he hoists you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, arms locking around his neck. neither one of you comes up for air as he walks over to your dresser and places you on it. his tongue invades your mouth as you both fight for dominance. mammon is the first to pull back, pupils blown wide.

"i'm gonna show ya how much i missed ya"

he roughly drags your sweats down your legs, underwear following soon after. he groans, taking in the sight of your exposed cunt. mammon slides one finger into your tight cunt, causing you to moan. once he deems you loose enough, he slides another finger in. he's curling his fingers just right, hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you. mammon leans down close to your ear. "tell me how bad ya want me, tell me ya only belong to me, mc"

you grip his forearm, squirming, pleasure becoming intense. your eyes roll back as your orgasm approaches but mammon stops his movements and smacks your thighs. "what did i say, mc?" you're full on desperate now, orgasm ripped away from you.

"please, mammon! i'm all yours, i want you so bad, just please fuck me!"

a smile takes over mammon's face as he pulls his fingers from your cunt. "that's my good girl, i'll give you what ya want now" he unzips his pants, freeing his cock. mammon had always gone commando, a detail you'd almost forgotten. he strokes his cock a few times before angling it against your throbbing hole. you yelp as he begins pushing it inside. he leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. "don't worry baby, doing so well for me" you reach your hands out to pull him closer and he obliges, pushing you further up on to the dresser. he bottoms out and gives you a moment to adjust. you begin kissing along his neck and he takes that as a sign that you're ready.

mammon slides all the way out of you before slamming back in. he maintains a steady pace, rocking both of you as you clutch onto him for dear life. "mine, pretty girl, all mine, love you so much" the room is filled with your loud cries and the occasional grunt and whine from mammon. "fuck! mammon mm gonna cum!"

mammon digs his nails into your hips, picking up the pace. "ya gonna cream on my dick, baby?" you nod mindlessly. mammon smirks. "i want ya to cum all over this dick and ima fill ya up, okay? you keep nodding, pressure building. "make sure everyone knows ya belong to me" mammon bites down on the side of your neck, hard. you come undone after this, cumming hard around his cock. mammon finishes not long after, filling you up with his seed. he pulls out, cock coated in the evidence of your lovemaking. mammon's cum begins to drip out of you and onto your dresser and you whine.

mammon moves to pick you up, swooping you up into his arms bridal style. "c'mon mc, lets get ya in a bath" you nuzzle into his neck, already drifting off to sleep. "i missed you, mammon" he laughs. "i missed you too, mc" you yawn, attempting to stretch your legs in his grip. "i love you" you say, finally falling asleep.

"i love you more than you'd ever know"

[kakushimiko]

Vox Machina final rambling before S3 Finale part 6.

(get ready guys, this is going to be a long one)

So this is it guys, there’s only hours for the Season Finale, I’m so happy that you guys liked my silly ramblings so much to give them likes, reblogs and responses, I didn’t really expect to get that much attention. There will be a couple more ramblings after the finale, after I have processed and recovered from the emotional impact that this season has brought upon my fragile soul lol

So what’s this rambling about? Well, is about my predictions of how things are going to end and how Scanlan will play a major role in it before he leaves the team, like every good performer, he’s going out with a blast.

I believe that Percy is coming back before the season ends, and that the events of his resurrection will combine with the events of Bard’s Lament in some way.

I don’t know what were the exactly circumstances that made Scanlan leave the group (I’m trying to not spoil myself too much and watch the original campaign, so I just know what I gathered from fics and fan art) all I know is that Scanlan felt useless in the team and leaves to be with Kaylie, and Sam's new character gets introduced, Taryon Darrington, who is also awesome (Sam is an extremely funny and charismatic guy, of course his character would be likeable).

So, this is how I believe things are going to happen if I picked the signs right:

VM focus is on Raishan, and then later they will go after Ripley. That part is obvious.

Raishan, since she never found a cure for her illness, is planning on using Thordak’s body as her new body. Now, does she know how to transfer her soul into a new body, or, maybe… she needs the help of some entity that can take and move souls to other places?

Can you see where I’m going with this?

Ripley is in dire need of new resources after Percy blowed up her factory, and she has no problem in forming alliances with dragons, and Orthax is just as happy to help if this gets cursed guns that would feed him souls for years out into the world.

Because of this, I believe the final fight is going to be against Raishan, Ripley and Orthax at the same time, because it can’t be any more epic that to take all the antagonist of this season in one giant awesome fight.

Now with Scanlan.

My bet was on Vax and/or Vex to figure out Percy’s soul whereabouts (the first for his connection to the Matron and the later for the power of love), but I feel like Scanlan is going to get his moment to shine after letting everybody down, from barely being able to connect with Kaylie and barely saving Percy at the last second in ep2, to miss Kaylie’s show to not being there when Whitestone was attacked and in Glintshore, resulting in Percy’s death (I’m not blaming Scanland for all of this, I think this is how he feels about himself, always being late when he was needed the most), but this time, he has to get it right by both Kaylie and VM, and finally take control over his life, the whole season has been building this scenario for him.

Scanlan, with his soul out of his body, but not ready to pass away yet, will probably gain the ability to see ghosts or other spiritual entities, or maybe, and here is the good part, he gets to see the threads of destiny/fate that connects all of them. Maybe he follows the threads that connects him to VM, to Kaylie, and then, there’s this last thread that takes him much farther away, leading him to Percy, who is in Orthax’s grasp atm. Maybe he even sees Ripley and Raishan plans to put her in Thordak’s body.

Scanlan wakes up and tells the team all he saw. They start planning, now with a way to defeat all three enemies and recover Percy in one move. Is not going to be easy, but this is probably their only chance to end this for good.

I find funny the idea of VM stealing Percy’s body, because where are they putting him? In a bag of holding or in Vex’s pokeball thingy with Trinket? Lmao, Percy is not going to be amused by that. Maybe they don’t need to steal his body but they have to put him somewhere that is easy to carry and be unnoticed 🤣

From here you can guess the rest, they make plans on How are they going to do this (hah!), maybe they'll wait for the right time to take Orthax out (Keyleth gets all BAMF and kicks that bitch demon crow ass and releases her BFF) and use Raishan’s soul transfer ritual on Percy instead, that would be cool. And I’m reeeally hoping that at some moment in the chaos, Percy gets to put Cabal’s Ruin and get his moment of awesomeness, because this is the moment so many, me included, have been waiting for, and I’m also hoping that Percy gets the killing blow on Raishan because, according to this interesting analysis (link here), each member of VM, alone and in pairs, got the killing blow on each of the Chroma Conclave dragons, Grog got Brymscise, Scanlan got Umbrasyl, Vex and Keyleth got Vorugal, and Pike and Vax got Thordak, only Percy is missing here (a power up Bad News with the power of Cabal’s Ruin, H.O.L.Y S.H.I.T that would be such an epic and beautiful animation moment).

VM will get the killing blow on Ripley instead (and Orthax if he is still around at this point). Just like with Delilah being killed by Cassandra, Percy is over with revenge, he already forgave her and even tried to give Ripley a chance, now his family gets the justice to punish her. (My bet is that Vex will mess her up so badly, is going to be so catathic for all of us)

And that’s it, they go back to Whitestone and everybody celebrates Percy’s revival, and after the party, Scanlan says he’s leaving with his daughter. Kaylie must have hear about Scanlan’s almost dying fighting Thordak and came to see him, they make peace and are going to give it a shot at being father and daughter. Scanlan ensures that VM will be fine without him but to call if help is needed. I want to believe that they will part ways in better terms than in the original.

After that, I don’t know if the rest of team will separate for a while too, I hear that this happens in the campaign but I'm not sure, I hope this doesn’t happen but it would be understandable if it does, with the two couples wanting to have some time for themselves, and Pike will have some thinking to do too, with her religious crisis and the magical blood thing. Grog will just be Grog, he’s happy like that.

Then, at the very end, we get the teaser of the BBEG who’s been waiting under Whitestone since S1 😂

God, this was a long, and if anybody stuck with me up to this point, thank you so very much, hope you didn’t get bored. As I say before, these ramblings are more of a therapeutic tool because I would go crazy with all these theories in my head. I don’t expect the finale season to go like I explained here , but I’m sure I got some parts right (if I got EVERYTHING right I would be astonished 😲, my prophetic powers are getting stronger!)

I’m so happy and sad at the same time, I loved the thrill of waiting a week to see how the story ends for such lovely characters, but is sad that now is over, I’ll do rewatchs of this series because the urge to write has come back to me after so many years, and I also have the campaigns to watch as well, from C1 to C3 and a possible C4, and I’ll keep an eye for the Mighty Nein series too, there’s still plenty for me to see, but Vox Machina and my boy Percy will always be n°1 in my heart.

… and in another news… SEASON 4 WAS JUST CONFIRMED HOURS AGO!!! WOOOOW!!! THE LEGEND OF VOX MACHINA WILL CONTINUE!!! LET’S GOOOO!!!

Thursday is almost her!

[spinningbuster98]

Since yesterday we talked about my *favorite* story: I think what really confuses me about the NFCV fans who defend Hector's writing by praising his final action, letting Lenore go, as the rightful conclusion of his character arc... is that it only works if you completely memory hole S3.

Hector is introduced as someone who burned his own parents alive after a childhood of abuse, bitter enough to believe humanity needed to be culled. From this perspective, him learning to forgive Lenore, or at least granting her mercy and dignity, could be a good character development. But Hector through the show was not written to be bitter, vengeful and violent: that was Isaac.

Or alternatively, Hector's biggest flaw is that he needs to be loved, so much that his favorite spell is reanimating dead animals so that they could love him unconditionally. He forces those creatures to him. He keeps this behavior by clinging to Dracula, then Carmilla (he could have ran away, he chose to stay with her after Dracula's death), then Lenore (after Carmilla's death and Isaac making him live, Lenore became his only certainty in life). From this perspective, him not forcing Lenore to live an existence she didn't want to live, but accepting her decision, could be poignant. But Hector never actively sought anyone: he was swayed and lured in. Besides, his pets stopped being relevant after S2.

Hector's arc was one of passivity. You can't miss it: even Isaac points out that Hector lacked agency. Hector spent his entire arc being thrown around left and right, lied to, beaten, humiliated, dehumanized, and he simply... existed. He has no objective, he barely has any negative emotions. Hector in S3 was a blow up doll, and we audience were meant to laugh at his stupidity while jerking off over the submissive and breedable peggable guy being called "good boy". S4 pretends he grew, with his working behind the scenes to resurrect Dracula, but it's not enough, for all the reasons we know. That's why him letting Lenore go feels like the last spit in the face for him: not only Hector is the only character in the season who is left with a bittersweet ending at best, but... he didn't do anything to affirm himself. He didn't choose to leave Lenore: Lenore chose to leave him, and he simply nodded to that. He didn't talk to her about their problematic relationship, now that nothing was between them. He didn't take the chance to recognize his own self-worth in the same way Isaac did. We don't know what he plans to do with Isaac, we don't know if he plans to leave the castle at some point. The pattern of him going "sure why not" at everything thrown at him was not shaken.

(I don't need to tell you that as someone who loves the original Hector's story precisely for the way he seizes agency for himself, this pisses me off something fierce. More idealistic? Maybe, but also encouraging.)

I'll be honest: Hector as a character is so empty that I feel his fans simply project themselves into him, especially victims of abuse who see the way he crawled back to Lenore and think that it was an intentionally nuanced representation of the way abuse twists your mind and priorities. And if his story resonates with you, I can't take it away from you, but I can assure you that the guy who spent a whole episode writing his puppy fetish for no reason other than fanservice does not give a single shit about the realism of abuse, let alone the things he was accused of.

And I wonder if the same can be applied to other aspects of the show, like Trephacard's friendship that straight up doesn't exist on screen, or Isaac's "development" which might resonate with people similar to him. Just a lot of projecting and filling in the holes, of which the show has plenty because it would rather waste its time with pointless filibustering and people being mean and crass to each other or piss jokes.

This is gonna sound very cynical but the main reason for the show's success is, essentially, that it's superficially deep and insightful.

Superficial presentation can go a very, very long way in hiding very egregious writing flaws, stuff like great fight scenes, emotional music and dialogues that sounds very cool, philosophical and deep can easily convince people that what they're watching is far more than it really is. These are cases where, if you don't pay attention to the finer details, you would really be led to believe that it's exactly what the show is presenting itself as

As another example: Sonic fans, even after all of these years, still like to parade Mephiles around as the best written villain in the series, even though his plan makes less than zero sense. This is because he looks cool (?), has cool powers, has a cool voice and the game consistently presents him as a mastermind...so folks fall for it, it's all about the vibes and how they emotionally impact the viewers, who in turn don't tackle the material with actual critical thought. Some seem to do so, given the plethora of in-depth analysis of characters like Isaac, but, and I know this is really offensive of me to say, I think they are still being influenced by the emotional impact of the way the story likes to present itself, preventing them from truly being 100% objective

People see Hector's pseudo philosophical speech to Lenore, they see her killing herself with the beautiful cinematography and music, and they mistake it for actual art, because it makes them forget or reinterpret the likes of S3. The reason why so many undermine or even justify Lenore's treatment of Hector in S3 is not, I believe, out of genuine rape apologism, but rather becaus people have a subconscious need to have everything neatly fit into their view of events

The ending of S4 looks so beautiful and deep and meaningful, but their relationship in S3 is in direct contradiction of that, so instead of recognizing that they twist the facts in their own head in order for all of it to make sense, because if you admit the existence of S3 as it truly was to yourself, then S4 and it's "beautiful" emotional impact falls apart like a ton of bricks

This is sounding very arrogant if not downright misanthropic I know, as I'm essentially saying that people don't know how to consume the media they like and that they don't even truly know what it is that they like. I feel a bit ashamed in saying this because it's the type of reasoning that would anger me usually, especially if directed at me, so in a way I guess I'm being hypocritical...but I truly don't see any other way to explain this phenomenon

Isaac is, of course, another good example: it's "easy" for most people to forget his hypocrisy because the show puts such a laser focus on his "development" and emotions and philosophy etc. It's like dangling keys in front of a toddler in order to distract them from some other thing

Something like Other M could have had the same effect, but the difference I feel is that Other M is far more egregious in its superficial dialogue: Samus sounds boring and stupid even at a surface level, she can't fool the audience, and Adam's character doesn't feature nowhere close as many "distractions" from his shitty behavior, especially since the authorization mechanic is pervasive throughout the whole game, so people immediately see what a douchebag he is and how self contradicting the story is about him.

[blackjackkent]

Continuing Rakha's explorations in Last Light - we wander into the last side room on the bottom floor and encounter a familiar face!

HI FLORRICK!

Rakha remembers the woman - an associate of Wyll's father, a leader in the city she has never seen - from the fire at Waukeen's Rest. Florrick looks considerably more put-together now, albeit even more grim. Near her on one of the inn's beds is a semi-conscious man in trousers and an arm sling, mumbling a strange, incoherent song to himself.

Florrick is in the midst of a conversation about the invalid with one of the Flaming Fist as Rakha approaches.

"He still won't speak. Just keeps going with the bloody song."

"Nothing of use on his person?"

"His original writ of duty - signed by Eltan himself. Fella must be one of the very first Flaming Fist."

"He must know something. Let's not give up on him yet." Florrick pauses, turns to look at Rakha as she approaches - then flicks her eyes over to Wyll.

"Florrick."

"Wyll?" Florrick looks troubled - and extremely tired. "Gods, please, no. The Blade of Frontiers was supposed to be my secret weapon."

(A/N: I'm legitimately not sure what she means here? Probably that she doesn't want him in danger here because she was hoping he'd help with the Absolutists back in the city? But that doesn't make sense because she was the one who told us to go after Ravengard out here in the first place. Perplexing.)

"We believe the cultists have taken your father to Moonrise Towers," she goes on soberly. "I don't suppose you've found a way in?"

"Not yet," Rakha answers. They have possibilities, certainly - particularly this Selunite that Jaheira mentioned upstairs. But no sure plan yet.

Florrick lets out a heavy breath and nods. "I trust that you will do everything you can to free the duke. But in case you don't find a way, I'll be heading to Baldur's Gate to seek reinforcements. The Council sent a carrier pigeon with news that the city has been dealing with Absolutist attacks. The Steel Watch is holding strong. I'll request that Lord Gortash send some of them to aid in the fight against Moonrise. The curse won't harm them."

Rakha goes still. She barely registers the comment about the Steel Watch - which means nothing to her. But that name...

Gortash.

She knows that name. Karlach has spoken it as well - the man who sold her to the Hells. And both times it has struck her like a blow. She doesn't know why. She has no memory associated with it. But she knows that name...

...and it makes her feel ill to hear it.

"Gortash, as in Enver Gortash?" Wyll is saying, sounding puzzled. "Last I knew, he was a minor player in city affairs."

"A lot's changed since you left Baldur's Gate, Wyll," Florrick answers. "Gortash has gained considerable influence since then."

Rakha finds that her mouth has gone dry. "Gortash," she rasps out. "That name... it's... sickeningly familiar..."

Florrick squints at her, clearly bemused by this reaction. "Lord Gortash is the man responsible for the creation of the Steel Watch. It's no wonder he earned the title. The Steel Watch are the future of warfare. Gondian automatons that can be sent into battle without risking any live - except those of our enemies. Lord Gortash had only completed work on the prototypes before Ravengard and I left for Elturel, but even they were formidable. With the Steel Watch at our backs, we could storm the tower whatever Ketheric throws at us, I'm sure of it."

Were this any other conversation, Rakha would no doubt be listening intently. This is information, important information; Florrick is describing machines of death that she means to bring in to fight at their side against the cult.

But she is barely listening - and despite the subject matter, neither is the beast in her head. Both of them are still fixated on that name, which echoes repeatedly within her at each utterance.

Gortash. Gortash. Gortash.

Who is he? Why does she know the name? Why does Florrick know him as a Lord - a title of importance, Rakha gathers - and Wyll know him only as a minor player and Karlach know him as a traitorous arms dealer? Why does Rakha know the name at all?

Florrick is looking at her, clearly expecting an answer, but Rakha is far too preoccupied to provide one. After a while, the Counselor just shrugs. "I'll do my best, but there's every chance I'll fall to the curse or the cult before I reach the city," she goes on. "Don't count on me, and assume no aid is coming. Work with Jaheira - that Harper's mind is as sharp as her blade. Follow her guidance."

She draws back and inclines her head at Wyll. "Farewell. We'll meet again, gods willing."

------

As Florrick turns with her guard to stalk out the door, Wyll looks at Rakha with some concern. "All right there?" he asks. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"I know the name," Rakha mutters. "Gortash."

His eyebrows lift. "You're remembering something?"

Her jaw works with evident frustration. "No. It's just... familiar. I knew him. I must have..."

He tilts his head, thinking. "Perhaps you were a politician, then," he says cautiously. "Since Florrick says he's climbing the ranks."

"I don't know." Rakha lets out a sudden hoarse growl of frustration and slams her fist against the mantel over the fireplace, startling one of the nearby Fist. "I don't know," she adds more sharply. "I am tired of not knowing, Wyll."

"Yeah." His eyes narrow sympathetically... but of course he has no answers to offer. "When she comes back with these Steel Watch, we can ask her further," he suggests. "Maybe she can track down something about where you came from. Frankly, where the city's concerned, I think Florrick's capable of just about anything."

"Perhaps."

[landofzero-archive]

Absolute - The Pure Land 10

(Location: Absolute Stage)

(A few minutes later. A secret discussion with everyone else, a slight distance away from Shaka who is taking on Nagisa’s appearance. )

Hiyori: …… He said everything he wanted to say to his heart’s content, huh.

What should we do, Ibara? Is there really nothing that can be done?

Ibara: No. I’ve said this over and over again; but Shaka-shi is still only that world’s number one idol, and is not a pro criminal.

Even though that plan looks perfect, there are still flaws here and there. Shaka-shi probably persuaded Priest’s subordinates and made them his pawns by saying something like the following.

“This time as well I, Shaka, will make money, so just shut up and obey me.”

That Shaka mentioned is of course His Excellency Nagisa who was forced into Shaka-shi’s position and appearance.

Jun: Meaning……?

Ibara: Meaning, Priests’s subordinates would not be so easily able to dispose of Shaka-shi = His Excellency (1), who would be the said money tree.

Even though Shaka-shi was threatening us with that smug face (2), I can conclude that the likelihood of harm being inflicted on His Excellency is quite low.

But still, that’s not absolute. Because it’s possible that Priest’s subordinates might choose that option.

Where the fake Shaka-shi, which is His Excellency, gets disposed of, and afterwards, the real Shaka-san gets captured and returned to his original appearance— And have him be the world’s number one idol this time as well.

NEGI: “That would probably be the worst plotline for Shaka-san. Because the thread of hope that he grasped with great pains has to be cut short right there.

…… Shaka-san said that he couldn’t help but hate, hate himself.

That’s why he’s throwing it away. It made him despair that much.

I didn’t notice it.

When he was talking to me, Shaka-san was a naive, kind older brother, so much so that it felt like the title of the world’s number one idol didn’t suit him.

But. That was all a lie. He simply wanted to steal useful techniques from me……

When he said that his life was being targeted so he wanted help, the truth was that it wasn’t like he was being targeted by a killer.

It was, simply, an excuse to learn those techniques from me?

No. Was the person targeting Shaka-san's life— Shaka-san himself, who couldn’t help but hate, hate himself?

The other person Shaka-san was afraid of was Shaka-san himself, who would crush himself into nothing. That person was worn out, split himself apart and became crazy.”

Ibara: ……However, that’s exactly why we should not let our guard down.

Shaka-shi is a bomb with its fuse lit. If you carelessly provoke him, he’ll blow up instantly.

So that His Excellency may return alive and return to everyday life as usual— we have to overturn that plan with nothing less than carefully and conscientiously .

Jun: But, what should we do? Do we have no choice but to appear in Absolute as planned, just like Shaka-san told us to?

Ah, we just have to spill everything to the audience gathered here! Expose Shaka-san’s plan, and just like that—

Ibara: I guess the venue will be filled with outbursts of laughter.

Who’s going to believe in us? No, between us who have no recognition here, and Shaka-shi, which of us is more persuasive?

Even if we claim that “Ouw fwiend has been wepwaced with the wowld’s numbew one idol ~!”(3) in clumsy English.

It will just be taken as a joke or some strange performance.

Absolute is the festival of insanity; the Fanatic Festival.

In this crazy environment, no matter how seriously you try to convey the truth, it’ll only be taken as a comedy routine.

It’s naturally ridiculous to think that a human would be replaced.

Jun: No way…… But, I see. That’s what’ll happen.

Hiyori: Maybe. That’s probably why Shaka-san brazenly showed himself in front of us and politely explained everything.

Even if we were to spread the truth around, no one would believe it—is what he means.

Ibara: That self-conceit is deadly. It’d be great if I could say that, but I can’t think of what to do at this moment.

Shaka-shi and his pawns Priest’s subordinates seem to be cooperating, but their goals are different—

That part feels like the main point that will allow us to break their plans.

I still can’t think of a way to do that. Still a move too short. (4)

Jun: ……?

Ibara: ? What is it, Jun? Did you think of something?

As expected of the man who unpredictably manages to pull off a miracle once in a blue moon! 

Jun: Oh, um, don’t you hear some kinda weird sound?

NEGI: “Ah, it’s the smartphone! From Hiyori-sama’s pocket!”

Hiyori: Ah, Aah…… Come to mention it, it doesn’t really matter now that we’ve come to this, but I was thinking of having Ibara analyze the smartphone.

Because it seemed like Shaka-san sent detailed correspondence to the Staff in Absolute’s Tent Village.

Jun: Thinking about it now, that’s probably because Shaka-san had planned to have Nagi-Senpai appear on Absolute as his substitute.

Hiyori: Mm. So that Priest’s subordinates would listen to what he said, and at the same time, to not have them get involved any further—

It’s necessary for Shaka-san to win Absolute overall.

They should have made arrangements for that. Have Nagisa-kun perform as Shaka-san’s substitute, no, as his living sacrifice(5) — and make him win.

And then he offers to Priest’s subordinates the money tree to replace himself.

By way of such a ritual, Shaka-san would finally be completely free. He would foist everything he hated onto Nagisa-kun, and he would set out on a journey to a new world.

…… It’s a revolting story though. Well, that’s why we thought there would be correspondence from Shaka-san again, so that’s why we borrowed this smartphone.

We thought that if we could trace the call through this smartphone, we would be able to pin down Shaka-san’s whereabouts.

Ibara: You mean to say that you’ve received a call on that smartphone? So that means, it couldn’t be— please lend it to me!

Hiyori: Wawaa? I get it, I’ll lend it to you, so don’t be so rough?

Ibara: The number is restricted…….but could it be?

—Hello? Could this be Your Excellency?

TL Notes: 1. Shaka-shi = His Excellency; in this part, Ibara literally uses the equal sign =, which probably means that he’s treating Shaka and His Excellency as a singular subject in this sentence, but also considering this is supposed to be spoken language; how did he do that? Mod kept it in for your enjoyment.

2. Ibara used slang here; ドヤ顔 (DoyaKao) which literally means ‘face you’ll beat’, but used the same way as ‘smug face’.

3. He actually said “Our friend has been replaced with the world’s number one idol~!” in normal JP, but added a cutesy, babylike でしゅ(Deshu) instead of a normal です (Desu) at the end. So. As a side note, he used 僕たち (Bokutachi) here. It’s a polite first person plural pronoun that he never uses otherwise.

4. He’s speaking in board game (chess, go, shogi, etc) lingo. He said he lacks 一手 (itte) or literally, ‘one move’.

5. The word 生贄 (Ikenie) is sacrifice as in, ritual sacrifice.

Previous | Directory | Next

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

Hi what about 1 and 12 for the fic ask?

Hi winnie!!! Thank you for the ask 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

1. Which three fics occupy your top posts? Tell me a bit about the inspiration behind them!

I’m going to assume this means my most popular posts, so I’m going to go by hits

#3 - It Had To Be You: this is the first fic I ever posted so I’m not surprised it has some of the highest ratings on my profile. Sakuatsu was HUGE back when I wrote this and I think people were ready to consume any media about them at the time because this is not my finest work lol. The inspiration came from watching When Harry Met Sally (my fav romcom of all time, I rewatch it like 10 times a year) and I realized that the personalities of the main pairing fell in line well with sakuatsu.

#2 - you’ll always know me: my baby. My piece de resistance. I’m not surprised it didn’t blow up the way aibtntfi has as hq has a shit ton of extremely good fics so you’re never really lacking for good content, but I’m very pleased this is my second most read! The basic inspiration for this was that I was listening to Taylor Swift’s evermore album (tis the damn season/dorothea in particular) and those two songs reminded me a lot of iwaoi in the time skip. A childhood friends to enemies to friends to lovers was perfectly in the cards for it and I think I planned out the entire fic in like three days.

#1 - and i’ve been tryin’ not to feel it: no one is shocked except for me lol. I never expected for this fic to do as well as it has but now this fic is basically the reason I have a following at all! The inspiration behind this was seeing a lot of jjk tiktokers doing ooc skits and it made me so irritated that I had to write a Megumi and itafushi that I felt was in character for a modern au. It was originally supposed to be a short oneshot but here we are 12 chapters later lol

12. Pick three fics that feature the same trope. What do you like the most about writing that trope and/or how did you do that trope differently in each story?

Friends 👏🏻 to 👏🏻 lovers 👏🏻 slow 👏🏻 burn 👏🏻 Slow burns are my favorite romance trope. I’m aspec so it’s RARE that I’m ever convinced by an insta-love story and I think slow burns where the couple truly gets to know and understand each other are the most romantic sort. Honestly, the only fics of mine that really feature this and can be considered a slow burn are my only three multi-chapter fics lol

• you’ll always know me: This one was the most fun to write, hands down. The angst, the yearning, the passion, this fic had everything that I love I truly wrote it for myself. I think it has the most believable romance out of all of my fics and my use of memories/flashbacks at the beginning or end of each chapter really made the story and relationship feel so much deeper. I can’t rave enough about how much I love it.

• and i’ve been tryin’ not to feel it: This fic is a slow burn in the sense that they like each other the entire time but are both idiots. I did include instant attraction in this one, but it’s not insta-love. Megumi is immediately intrigued and attracted to Yuuji but he refuses to let himself get drawn in by him (he folds almost immediately). Their relationship has been very fun to write and seeing them grow together and slowly understand themselves and each other has been wonderful to write out.

• It Had To Be You: this one isn’t unique at all in the sense that I didn’t realize I didn’t have to copy When Harry Met Sally plot point by plot point. I waited way too late to start changing things up and adding my own personal flair to the storyline, but it’s still a fun time. This fic has the most standard annoyances to friends to lovers plot but I still think it’s quite believable.

[aylen-san]

Eru Iluvatar: How should Arda be?

Greetings to all who are reading these lines, which means that you have at least invented writing and at most the Internet. It's me again, Eru Iluvatar, the great creator and incorruptible improviser. Today I want to talk about what Arda should have been... or rather, what it could have been if I had actually had a clear plan. Yes, yes, don't believe the fairy tales: there was no original plan. How do you imagine it? Sitting in a void and drawing diagrams? No, the reality is much more interesting - and chaotic.

Do you think it was possible to come up with something like this? It's hard to believe that this bubbling mixture of light, darkness, magic and marasmus and contagious disorder was the result of long and thoughtful planning. But unfortunately, I couldn't admit to anyone that it was pure improvisation. So let's discuss what Arda should look like according to the "original plan".

First, the landscape. Ideally, Arda should have been a place of peace and beauty, where every corner is a painting worthy of a gallery. Low hills, sparkling rivers, quiet forests, and perfectly level mountains that don't collapse on your head at the slightest bump. In reality, the mountains shift and explode, the rivers overflow, and the forests are full of creatures ready to eat you alive. That's asymmetry!

Then there's the climate. Let's just say that Arda was supposed to be a place of eternal spring - no rain, no snow, no wind to blow a man off his feet. But you can see for yourself what has happened. Here, winter drags on forever, summer turns into a sweltering inferno, and spring and fall are more myth than reality. Weather anomalies are certainly not what I originally planned. You remember what I didn't plan, right?

Now about the population. Elves should be majestic, wise, and immune to all kinds of power struggles. Humans were supposed to be kind, hardworking, peace-loving, and live long and peaceful lives. But in the end, elves can't go a year without starting some kind of war, and humans... well, let's just say I wouldn't be surprised if they invented nuclear weapons.

Magic. In the original plan, magic was supposed to be a rare and powerful gift available only to a select few. But what happened? Magic is everywhere. Some crazy Maiar burns down half the world, then the Rings of Power start the cycle of history. And Saruman's endless experiments. He's talented, of course, but how annoying he is to everyone with his inventions!

Now let's talk about the most interesting character, Pheanor. Ah, Pheanor... When I created him, I wanted him to be the epitome of talent, creativity, and willpower. A great blacksmith, a wise leader, a role model. But what did he turn out to be? A great innovator with the temperament of a volcano, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. The quest for Silmarilas alone is worth it. Who would have thought that creating beautiful stones would turn into such a disaster?

His passion and ambition have led to many tragedies. Fraternal wars, exile, burned ships - it's certainly not what I had originally planned. Although I have to admit that it was extremely exciting to watch, like a reality show that you can't look away from. And most importantly, all for the glory of my beloved.

And of course, his vows. He really outdid himself. Vowing vengeance on anyone who dares to trespass on his creations, including his family and friends, was not in the original plan, to say the least. Pheanor turned Arda into a battleground for his ambitions, and not always in a good way. And then he took it and died at the most interesting point! But honestly, all of Pheanor's unpredictability brought something special to Arda.

Melkor. Ah, Melkor... He was not supposed to be perfect, of course, but not so destructive. Somehow things got out of hand, and now we have what we have - a perpetually angry and disgruntled music lover who turns my symphonies upside down. Who knew that one dissonance could lead to such a disaster?

And, of course, the Valar and the Maiar. They were supposed to be role models, impeccable rulers who would rule the world wisely. But what have they turned out to be? Constant bickering, intrigue, and as a result, floods, earthquakes, and plagues. Varda, for example, instead of being a quiet and calm star goddess, became a real firework of emotions and surprises.

Now let's move on to Sauron, Aule's talented but extremely wilful apprentice. Melkor number two, only with a greater love of jewelry making. Sauron was supposed to be the keeper of order, but ultimately decided that order meant bending everyone to his will. The Rings of Power, the creation of Orcs, the constant experimentation with nature - it's a far cry from what I had planned. But it has certainly made life in Arda a fascinating series full of intrigue and unexpected twists.

Now let's talk about Luthien, our beautiful revolutionary. She was supposed to be a symbol of elven grace and wisdom, a beautiful princess living in peace and harmony. But what did she become? This sweet girl with her love for a mortal man made everyone nervous. I can't help but notice her courage and determination, but when she set out to rescue Beren from the clutches of Sauron, things didn't go as planned. So much fuss over one love! And for what it's worth, her daddy Thingol, with his perpetual xenophobia and love of treasure, has become a real headache for everyone around him.

But, let's face it, there's beauty in chaos. Arda is not perfect, but it is alive, full of surprises and drama. It's a place where even I, the creator, don't know what will happen tomorrow. And maybe that is even better than endless calm and predictability. After all, it's so much fun to watch my creations find their own way in this tumultuous world.

So let's not lie to ourselves or others. There was no original intention. Being a creator isn't always about following a strict plan. Sometimes it's just great improvisation that turns chaos into beauty.

Yours is Eru Iluvatar, creator of the world and master of improvisation.

[glapplebloom]

Which of these two are legit better?

So Sonic Prime ended and I really enjoyed the finale. I’m going to be doing a three parter, two of which are based on some stuff I saw on Twitter. The first being some people thinking Reverse Tails from Archie Comics is a better concept than Nine. I disagree with this assumption because, quite simply, Reverse Tails literally has nothing. 13 appearances in the comics in total. So let’s look at them real quick before we compare him to Nine.

His first appearance was in #11, which he does nothing. His next appearance #24, where he pretends to be Tails alongside the rest of the doubles. They get quickly defeated. Then #151 where he is part of a group beating up Sonic because they think he’s Reverse Sonic. They get the advantage for a while but are quickly defeated. I’m not even going to look at the Super Sonic Special #10 because it’s likely a flashback to a previous time. 

It’ll be #188-189 where he now refers to himself as Miles. He fights with Tails for a bit but in reality he’s part of an invading force with Scourge being the boss. #190 has him complain that Tails ignores his magical heritage and follows Sonic. Does he show any magic during this time? No. In fact, it is shown that all of Scourge’s crew are afraid of him. #191 shows him trying to use Scourge’s ego to have him face Metal Sonic alone. In #192 he suggested to the others that with Sonic on their side they could take over Scourge’s reign. 

#193 is when he enacts his plan. Going to the Mobotropolis to suggest to Sally an alliance to defeat Scourge once and for all. He also thinks little of Tails. #194 has the plan set in motion. Fiona was Scourge’s only ally. Of course, he double crosses them so he can send both Scourge and Sonic to the Reverse universe. #195 the plan was they expect Sonic to wear down Scourge enough so when they show up he’ll be easy pickings. And in #196, that plan blows up in their face when Super Scourge shows up.

This is the Panel I think of when I think of Reverse Tails. Someone who has a big picture, but when it comes time to step up he crumbles like a deck of cards. Even Tails went to fight Super Scourge. And the comic ends with Sally being in charge but her admitting who is really in charge. And that’s it. That’s all there is to Reverse Tails. If you saw Prime, you probably can see why thinking that Reverse Tails is better than Nine is. But for those who haven't seen it, here’s a summary.

Unlike Reverse Tails whose reason is “lol, Evil”, Nine was originally Tails who hadn't been rescued by Sonic when he got picked on for his two Tails. So he became a loner, not trusting anyone. He augmented himself and only works on keeping himself safe. Then Sonic came to town. To his surprise, he found someone he could put faith into; someone who he could trust. And that pushes Nine to be more outgoing and help others.

But when he was reforming the Paradox Prism, that’s when their ideologies clashed. Sonic wanted to restore everything back to normal. Nine wanted to recreate a world where they could live in peace without trouble. Seeing Sonic not going along with that plan, he felt betrayed and took the Paradox Prism so he can create his own world while letting the other worlds get destroyed thanks to the Egg Council’s Doing.

He would have too if not for the missing energy needed to solidify the Paradox Prism, which exists in Sonic. So Season 3 has him fighting to get Sonic. He created an Army of Mecha Versions of the Prime Cast, including a Giant Big, and when Sonic and crew got close he used the power of the Paradox Prism to fight them off himself, even though it was causing further destruction as well as taking a lot out of him.

And this is why I do not believe Reverse Sonic is a better Evil Tails than Nine. Nine has an actual reason, an actual story, a better design, implications that were explored, and most importantly he was actually important to the series. You could remove Reverse Tails from everything and nothing would have changed. You can’t say the same thing for Nine.

[crystalelemental]

Pokemon Team Characterization - Koga

The other request for, and I can’t believe I’m reading this right, “All of the Poison specialists.”  That’s like five guys.  Oh god it’s six I forgot Plumeria.  So okay, I guess that’s my afternoon.  So let’s kick it off with the original ninjaman, Koga.

FRLG Koga is super easy to analyze.  This is a man with only one game plan.  I am going to Poison you, then dodge, or explode.  The dodge or explode part is what kills me.  Either I’m confident and am going to try legitimately stalling you our, or I’m going to get flighty and pull the trigger immediately.  Koga is a man with anxiety.  He is a father of a ninja child, I think it’s fair.  But more importantly, in contrast to Whitney’s Jack of All Trades approach, Koga is “Do one thing well.”  They are, essentially, opposites.  And his mentality got him to the Elite Four, so make of that what you will.

By HGSS, Koga’s team is much more refined.  I’m going with his rematch team because they’re largely identical, but I think there’s more to draw from this.  The only loss is Forretress, which...is sad.  I think the stealthy shielded Pokemon throwing out Toxic Spikes is like the perfect Ninja Pokemon, but I respect Koga’s actual commitment to his type.  Unlike some people around this league, LANCE.

The Lead (Skuntank) Poison/Dark is a nasty type combination, that gives it only one weakness: Ground.  It counters the “obvious” response to Poison in Psychic beautifully, and even packs Sucker Punch to hit those typically faster threats.  That said, at his core...Koga never changes.  Toxic, Dig for a sure miss, and Explosion.

Koga remains cautious and flighty.  He appreciates a sure thing in Toxic, and likes getting the jump on his opponents, but when in doubt, explode.  Just blow it up, bro, it’s fine.  Know when to fold ‘em.

The Ace (Crobat) This is his highest level, so it’s his ace.  If you were expecting a different approach, think again.  Who do you think you’re dealing with?  Do one thing well, we’ve been over this.  Toxic, Fly, do the thing.  But interestingly, Crobat cannot explode, and he didn’t opt for U-Turn here.  He opted for Mean Look.  Crobat is the coup de grace.  It’s the confidence.  When you’re uncertain, going through something that isn’t familiar, be ready to drop the game plan.  But when the chips are down, commit.  Moreover, when you’re dealing with someone else, hold them accountable.  They’re not allowed to back out of something they came in to.  God, he is a dad.

Same As It Ever Was (Muk, Venomoth) Muk and Venomoth repeat the same things as usual.  Toxic play, evasion play, do what you’ve gotta do.  What’s fascinating to me is that Muk has no attacking moves.  Taunt Bait Central.  It’s about Toxic, attempting to deny your opponent’s action through confuse, and evasion.  Muk is confidence.  It’s the certainty that you can keep up the pressure, and evade what you need to evade.  It’s so confident I’m willing to boost your attack, that’s how confident I am.  In contrast, Venomoth is Baton Pass.  Venomoth is not confident, but it is here to support its allies.

Koga is someone who is confident in his abilities, despite his backup plan being exploding.  He’s willing to play his luck and skills against an opponent, and when he gets himself rolling, is deadly confident in his ability to finish the job.  Enough so that Venomoth’s Baton Pass is him actively assisting others.  Koga’s a helper, he’ll work with others and functions as a solid team player.  Evasion in particular suggests a sort of defensive approach, being more protective of those he works with and cares for.

These Guys (Swallot, Toxicroak) Toxicroak is the muscle.  You can’t always rely on tricks, sometimes you just have to face it down directly.  And with Swagger, he’s got the confidence he can pull that off too.  Offensive coverage is wise.  X-Scissor hits Psychic types he’s weak to, while Cross Chop hits Steel types immune to his Poison shenanigans.  He knows where to apply pressure.  Swallot is a bit more unusual.  Pain Split to recover, Yawn to slow the foe down, Amnesia for bulk, and Sludge Bomb as a bit of offense.  It’s a weird pick, and doesn’t mesh well with the rest of the team.

Toxicroak is Koga knowing when to be direct.  While he’s usually more hands-off, preferring to support but stand at a distance, sometimes you have to get your own hands dirty, and he’s willing and able to do that, applying smart pressure where needed.  Swallot is the opposite.  Swallot is...restful.  It’s the more relaxed approach, the taking some time for yourself.  Amnesia suggests a sort of letting go of what’s on the mind, with Pain Split being that sharing of struggle.  Pain Split in particular works both ways; it can be taking on someone else’s struggle, or sharing his own with someone trusted.  Yawn relaxes, it soothes into peaceful sleep.  It’s an indicating that Koga’s probably a solid friend who’s a good listener.  He’s good at soothing the soul, for a man who likes explosions so much.

Summation Koga’s teams are sequential.  The first team is very “do one thing well,” and emphasizes a lot of mono-Poison types, which doubles down on that approach.  Koga as someone who is fairly one-note, and doesn’t have much beyond his one neat trick.

But by HGSS, Koga’s team is much more diverse, and while the core strategy is the same as always, he’s very different in how he approaches it, having a lot more confidence in it, and being a bit more willing to take risks.  At the same time, he’s demonstrating a bit more as a partner, someone who is able to find time for himself and relax, and is a fairly compassionate guy who’s trusting and supportive of his comrades.  He’s a team structure that shows a lot of growth, from someone who’s maybe more anxious and quick to drop something, to someone who’s more self-assured.  There’s probably something in here to do with raising a kid, where the early years are largely fixed on them and not having much time for yourself, so you stick to the bare essentials of managing your life.  But as they grow and become more independent, suddenly you can find time for yourself again and be a little calmer and available.

If anyone has an alternate read on the team, I’d love to hear it.  I admit to not thinking about Koga too much, but that’s mostly because I am a Psychic fan and consider Johto’s Elite Four more like food.

[hermionefae]

The Devil's Right Hand Woman

MJF x Original Fem character

Suzie is a undervalued wrestler in AEW but she knows she can be more, in steps MJF who says he can help her, but is he only in it for himself?

Part 1

I walked down the hallway of the Prudential Center on my way back to the women's locker room, pausing to spit put the left over blood pack from my mouth into the bin.

If my mother could see me now she would have been horrified at her only daughter covered in fake blood wearing a bright pink cheerleader wrestling outfit. But as my mother didn't approve of my choice of career I didn't have to worry about her opinion of my appearance.

I entered the locker room where the rest of the other ladies were just packing up, ready to go home. There was still one more match of the night but as that was between the men, us women weren't needed so we could warm down and pack up. I groaned as I sat down, I was feeling pretty beaten up after my match with Britt Baker, a wrestler that I admired and modeled my career on, so when I heard that Tony Kahn had arranged for us to have a match, I was estatic. But, as usual it was pre-planned for me to loose as I had just graduated from a jobber, I still couldn't be seen to beat the great Britt Baker, who had just walked through the door.

"Thanks for a great match Kiddo, you really put me through my paces." Said Britt loosening her boots and stepping out of them. All the other wrestlers called me Kiddo , they couldn't be bothered to learn my name and they thought this was a term of endearment, it wasn't.

"Oh thank you for letting me try out those new spots, I think the crowd loved them" I replied.

"They certainly thought it was something" came Toni Storm's voice from the shower.

Britt rolled her eyes "ignore her, I think you're really coming along."

I sighed "I just wish Tony would let me win for once"

"Well, perhaps you should tell him toots" a male voice answered. My head snapped to the door, some whst painfully after my fight to see MJF, the AEW World Champion in all his glory with belt and wrestling gear on.

"Get out of here Max, this is the woman's locker room and last time I checked you weren't a woman" bit back Britt.

Max held up his hands and smirked at the Doctor. "Sheesh, I'm going anyway, I've got better things to do then hang out with you loosers." And with that he was gone as quickly as he appeared.

"I still can't believe they made him champion" said Toni as she came out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her.

"Don't worry, Adam will take the title from him in London. Then we'll have a real champ" smiled Britt as she got up to go into the shower room, she turned back to me "I meant what I said Kiddo, you'll get your shot soon. Are you coming to the after party? Kenny is hosting at his hotel."

I hadn't planned on going, in fact, I wasn't even aware that I was invited but after the night I had, I needed to have a few drinks to let off some steam. "Yeah sure, why not" I replied.

I showered and changed back into the clothes I arrived in which was just a pair of jeans and a black tight t-shirt. I hoped that this wasn't a dressed up party as I hadn't brought anything like that with me.

Kenny Omega and the other men stayed in a different hotel to most of the women, only the couple like Britt and Adam Cole stayed in the same hotel for obvious reasons. Tonight it seemed that Kenny had booked out the downstairs bar that lead to the outside pool area. It was a warm New York night and I was grateful for the glass of sparkling wine that was given to me once I showed the security guard my AEW pass with my ID.

Everyone was here, even the House of Black and Julia Hart who despite their appearances when they were in character were actually the nicest people in AEW. Juila was the only one who actually called me by name. She spotted me and waved me over.

"Hey Suzie, I didn't know you were coming tonight"

"Yes, well I needed to blow off some steam and im not booked for a while so I can have lots of drinks before I get back to training"

"That's my girl" cheered Julia as she passed me a tequila shot. I quickly downed my wine, licked the salt from the back of my hand, shot the tequila and finally bit into the lemon, shivering from the alcohol and bitterness of the lemon.

My night went by in a flash after that in a whirlwind of alcohol and laughter. I even got to speak with Kenny and the Young Bucks who were a great laugh but the night was winding down now as the sun was threatening to come up and I was trying to work out in my drunk mind how to get back to the hotel whilst I was laying on the sun lounger.

"Getting a head start on your tan toots?" I looked up to see MJF once again.

"Maxwell Jacob Friedman, what do I owe the pleasure" I slurred

"I think I understood that, I just thought I saw a damsel in distress thst might need saving"

"Like you care"

Max sat down next to me "despite what you may think of me, I'm not a bad person Kiddo"

"Suzie" I corrected him.

"What?"

"My name is Suzie, Susan actually but I prefer Susie"

Max held out his hand "you can call me Max"

I took his outstretched hand and instead of him shaking it he brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it. " Now I heard on the grapevine that you were a little pissed off with the matches Khan had been booking you in"

"He treats me like a jobber but I know I can be more. I am more"

"Hmmm seems to me that you need an image change. Plus a new training reigme. I can help with both"

I was shocked "really? Why?"

"I won't tell you my reasons now, you won't remember them. I just want you to trust me. Can you Suzie? Trust me?"

"Fine " I said, without thinking.

Part 2 here

[mania-sama]

rule #20 - blessed by a curse

Rule #20 - Blessed by a Curse - Fish in a Birdcage

➼ information ❧ Bungou Stray Dogs ❧ Pairings: Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/Nakajima Atsushi ❧ Additional Characters: Nikolai Gogol ❧ Tags: spiderman au, hostage situations, hopeful ending, high school au, no ability users au, emotional hurt/comfort, self-sacrifice ❧ Summary: Nikolai, a supervillain the great Spider-man has been fighting for weeks on end, has finally presented the superhero with an impossible choice: save Atsushi from falling from the top of the Yokohama Landmark Tower or save the onlooking crowd from an impending explosion. ❧ Word Count: 2,203 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 5 October 2023

➼ whumptober 2023 ❧ Day 5: Hostage ❧ Previous Day ❧ Next Day ❧ Masterlist

Atsushi had never been afraid of heights before, but hanging over the edge of Yokohama Landmark Tower with nothing but a tie holding his entire weight really changes a man. The rough wind blows through his hair and nearly loosens his precarious foothold on the square edge. Every time he feels the building or himself sway, his heart jumps to his throat. It doesn’t help that the person holding him is only doing so with one arm and seems all too content with the idea of just letting Atsushi plummet to his death.

Nikolai, as his captor introduced himself as regards him with faint interest. His pupil is a narrow slit, following the exact line a pink scar makes over his eye. The vibrant blue color of his iris glows with an intensity Atsushi recognizes as unnatural. Superhuman.

Such was made clear when Atsushi was pulled through a gaping yellow portal that appeared out of nowhere and planted on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in Japan. All he saw before he was promptly shoved over the edge was the empty helicopter pad, the open blue sky, and a billowing white cape.

Now, he could see the malicious gleam in the man’s eyes and the tiny, on-looking crowd hundreds of meters below him. He can’t hear their uproar, but he can assume it well enough. Police cars have surrounded the perimeter of the building, and a net has been thrown out in order to somehow catch Atsushi.

“Don’t worry!” Nikolai exclaimed, a laugh echoing his words. “Even jumping into water from this height would kill you!”

Atsushi swears he will never set foot on a roof ever again if he somehow makes it out of this alive. And he really, truthfully hopes he does. For the first time in his pitiful life, he has ambitions for his future. He’s been accepted into Osaka University, and he plans to get a doctorate as a veterinarian. He has an adoptive little sister, brother, father, and a boyfriend who has been accepted to the same university. They want to live together one day.

Atsushi has dreams and people to live for. He can’t just let it be taken away so easily.

But from the top of the Yokohama Landmark Tower, there’s nothing he can do but try not to get himself killed before he shows up.

“He’s taking his sweet time,” Nikolai mutters. His smile slowly fades with each passing second. “The clock doesn’t stop, you know? My patience runs thinner than an emaciated cat. I should just drop you now and take someone else. You’re all the same in my eyes!”

The superhuman lets one finger lift from Atsushi’s tie, and his entire body drops down a centimeter. His arms and legs go numb at the movement. He can’t stop his terrified yelp, and it seems to bring back that manic delight on Nikolai’s face. “Or I can keep you. That sound you made was really fun! We should do this more often, you and I.”

A blur of black lands silently on the yellow H of the helicopter pad. Spider-man stands up so smoothly that it’s hard to believe that he just scaled the tallest building in Yokohama. He crosses his arms and waits silently for Nikolai to notice. Of course, it doesn’t take very long.

“Spider-man!” Nikolai shouts, and he shifts his body to be able to face more in the direction of Spider-man. This, in turn, causes Atsushi to almost faint. He loses his balance on the building, and he drops and raises an alarming number of times before Nikolai finally settles. Behind the mask, it’s hard to tell what Spider-man is thinking about the situation. “It’s been so long. I just knew this would get you to come running! Now, I’m sure you’ve thought of a million ways to get dear Atsushi out of this, but I—”

A trailing black web shoots from Akutagawa’s wrist straight at Nikolai’s face. It doesn’t land. A yellow portal transports it behind Atsushi’s back and presumably falls to the crowd below. Nikolai shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “I wasn’t done with my speech!  You’ve been moved to my naughty list. I was considering letting you go this one time, but now that thought is banished!”

When he talks like this, he waves his arm around and shifts his weight, dragging Atsushi along for the ride. It feels like the tie is coming loose, or the fabric has ripped, or something. The longer Nikolai stalls, the less likely Atsushi will make it out of this alive. The little strip of cloth can’t last him a lifetime.

Seemingly sensing the same thing, Spider-man says with his voice distortion filter: “I don’t like this wind. Hurry up.” Nikolai pauses. He turns his head back and forth between Atsushi and Spider-man like a cat trying to chase two laser pointers at once. His eyes are blown wide and his mouth hangs open. “Well!” He exclaims with exasperation. “If you so insist, Lord of Spiders."

The mask’s white eyes narrow at that expression, but he stays willfully silent. He knows just as well as Atsushi that cheap fabric doesn’t last forever.

A portal appears, and Nikolai sticks his arm through to bring out a remote with only one red button. He waves it in the air, showcasing it to both Spider-man and the helicopters observing from above. The whole exchange is being live broadcast because of course it is. Seeing how freely Nikolai speaks, they must not be able to pick up their voices from that high up.

“Early today, I used my powers to rig the entire building with bombs! They will detonate when I press this button. See?” Nikolai wags his finger in the direction of the button but stops just short of pressing. “Exploding it now would get rid of the fun. I’m sure you know what I’m going to ask next. It’s a tale as old as time. What can I say? I like my fairytales.

“You, my dear Man-spider have three options.” He uses the hand holding Atsushi’s tie to count with his fingers. It can be said that Atsushi does not appreciate it. With every finger he loosens, Atsushi slips down a centimeter. “One, save Atsushi and let the building explode. You may be thinking this is the best option since everyone inside has cleared out. Wrong! While there may be no people inside, they are all waiting outside. The building will crush them to pieces

“Two, save the building and let Atsushi fall. This would be the most obvious choice for the average person. But you, Spider-man, this boy’s death would be very devastating for you. Ah, the human mind, ever trapped in a birdcage of sanity and morality!” Nikolai presses the back of his hand to his head in mock agony. Atsushi yelps as he sways dramatically against the building and digs his hands further into the arm holding him up.

Spider-man does not react to the dramatics.

“Three!” A portal opens and drops a handgun at Spider-man’s feet. “Shoot yourself so you don’t have to bear the overbearing weight of death on your shoulders!” He says, returning all of his fingers to Atsushi’s tie. When Spider-man crouches to pick the gun off the ground, Nikolai laughs. “Don’t go misusing that! A stray bullet can just wind up in a kid’s head, you know.”

They know that he doesn’t mean Spider-man’s head.

“What will it be, Spider-man? The boy, the people, or blissful oblivion?” Spider-man examines the handgun, flipping it over and over in his hands before finally resting it back on the ground. “Good! It would’ve been rather disappointing not to see your face when someone dies!”

He just stands there, watching, waiting, not reacting to a word Nikolai says. Atsushi has faith in him, but it’s slowly diminishing.

Atsushi doesn’t know what he’d do in Akutagawa’s position, either.

He’s fairly certain that Akutagawa doesn’t know that Atsushi knows. It’s not that he’s oblivious, he simply hasn’t had time to pay attention to what Atsushi has figured out independently. When they are together, Akutagawa relaxes. He fixes his wounds from his latest fight and calms himself down. He shouldn’t have to worry about Atsushi being in danger due to their close relationship.

But now Atsushi is at the top of the Yokohama Landmark Tower. What shouldn’t be is now a reality, and Akutagawa doesn’t know what to do. In a split second, Atsushi decides for him. He lifts his hands off Nikolai and undoes his tie in one swooping motion. His stomach drops as he drops, and he thinks of the frothing crowd below him. If he cannot fulfill his dreams, at the very least they would still have the chance to fulfill theirs. Akutagawa would move on. He has to.

His life doesn’t revolve around Atsushi.

He closes his eyes and waits for the impact.

His back bends suddenly, rotating his whole body in the air and causing him to against a window of the tower. Pain explodes through his side, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that somehow, a spiderweb connected to his back and kept him from falling far. It must’ve happened when Akutagawa shot the web at Nikolai.

That means he anticipated what Nikolai would do. Atsushi is struck by the revelation that Akutagawa has been fighting someone this strong for this long, long enough to be able to anticipate where he’d relocate the web.

Atsushi hears the loud exclamation of “No! You assholes!” from the top of the roof, and a remote comes flying down with a trailing black web attached. Atsushi barely catches it in his hands, fumbling with it before tucking it into his chest to keep it one hundred percent safe. A millisecond later, a portal opens where the remote would be if Atsushi hadn’t caught it. “You will regret the day you were ever born! I swear to you, you will die a very painful death!” A flash of yellow above Atsushi’s line of sight and utter silence indicate that Nikolai has fled the scene.

Spider-man swings down the building next and easily detaches Atsushi from the building. Atsushi wraps himself around Akutagawa so he can swing and support the weight of two people at the same time. They jump over the crowd, who Atsushi can hear are cheering for another successful rescue from Spider-man. Akutagawa doesn’t spare them a speech or parting goodbye; the city knows not to expect that from him.

When they reach the much lower rooftop of an apartment building, Akutagawa gently sets Atsushi down on the ground. He's not all too thrilled to be on another roof, but if it's just for a moment, he'll deal with it.

Akutagawa hesitates in place, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to say it, or he’s worried that he’ll reveal his true identity by doing so.

“I know,” Atsushi says, and it visibly startles Spider-man. “I know it’s you, Ryuu. I’d like to see your face.”

Akutagawa stares at him for a while, shoulders slumped and faux eyes wide. Finally, they go back to normal size and he rips the mask off his face, revealing a very disheveled eighteen-year-old boy. His black-and-white hair falls around his face and neck, and his face is contorted into a strange mixture of frustration and anxiety.

Without saying anything, Atsushi brings Ryuunosuke into a tight hug, crushing his strong bones in his grip. Akutagawa doesn’t hug as tightly back — he never does. Not for a lack of love, but for his consistent ability to freeze up at any sort of affection — but instead buries his head into Atsushi’s neck. He whispers: “I never meant for this to happen.”

“I know,” Atsushi says reassuringly. He rubs circles into his boyfriend’s back. “How did you know I was going to make myself fall?”

Akutagawa pulls back to level an unimpressed stare at Atsushi. “You’d jump in front of a moving train if it meant saving a squirrel. Predicting your actions was the easier part.”

Despite the attempt at firmness, the distress in his tone is impossible to hide. Akutagawa’s temple in his light grip around Atsushi’s forearms. He doesn’t know which part shook up Akutagawa the most; Nikolai’s stunt, Atsushi’s attempted sacrifice, or the fact that hundreds of lives – or just one boy — depended on mere predictions.

Or perhaps it’s the definite threat Nikolai laid for Akutagawa. They’ve been fighting for months; Akutagawa knows to take him seriously.

“We’ll make it to graduation,” Atsushi promises. And Akutagawa looks at him as though he’d just recited the entirety Holy Bible in perfect Hebrew. In the next second, his face is back on Atsushi’s shoulders, and he breaks down into a coughing fit. Atsushi figured long ago that when he gained powers, he was somehow able to calm the severity of his disease.

They’d make it to graduation. Akutagawa didn’t have to worry about dying at twenty from lung disease anymore. They have dreams and people to live for, even if it took them until they were eighteen to realize it.

Nikolai wouldn’t take it from them that easily.