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felassan · 7 months ago

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Game Informer:

"A Deep Dive Into Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Combat, Abilities, Skill Tree, And More by Wesley LeBlanc on Jun 18, 2024 at 02:10 PM If you're at all familiar with the Dragon Age series, you likely already know BioWare has experimented quite a lot with its gameplay. From Dragon Age: Origins' real-time strategy RPG approach to Dragon Age II's mostly-set-within-one-city action experience to Dragon Age: Inquisition's strategy-action mix, BioWare hasn't quite defined the franchise's combat. However, a through-line is apparent from Origins to Inquisition: BioWare seemingly wants this franchise to be action but has attempted to shift to that without abandoning its longtime fans. With Dragon Age: The Veilguard, BioWare has completed its transition from strategy to real-time action, but thanks to an optional tactical pause-and-play combat wheel that harkens back to the series' origins, I feel it's found a great (battle)ground for Dragon Age combat. Of course, it's hard to tell how Veilguard's action will hold up over what is sure to be a dozens-of-hours-long RPG, but if what I've seen so far is any indication, the studio is on to something. A Shift In Strategy"

""I think the first thing to keep in mind is that combat [...] in the franchise has been an evolution," game director Corinne Busche tells me within BioWare's Edmonton office. "Every single entry reimagines what combat is like and I would say our goal was to make sure we had a system that allowed players to feel like they actually were able to step into the world of Thedas. They're not a player observing from afar – they are inside of this world. Being this authentic world that's brought to life, the combat system needs to support that, so you are in control of every single action, every block, every dodge, every swing of your sword." Busche says players complete every swing in real-time, with particular attention paid to animation swing-through and canceling. On the topic of canceling, I watch Busche "bookmark" combos with a quick dash. With this mechanic, players can pause a combo's status with a dash to safety and continue the combo where they left off afterward. Alongside the dash, there's a parry for some classes, the ability to charge moves, and a revamped healing system that allows players to quickly use potions by pressing right on the d-pad. Busche says each character will play the same in a way, regardless of class, in that you execute light and heavy attacks with the same buttons, use abilities with the same buttons, and interact with the combo wheel in the same way. During my demo at one point, we use a sword-and-shield Warrior Qunari that hip-fires and aims their shield to throw it like Captain America while hammering down big damage with a sword. Pressing the same buttons as a mage might throw out magical ranged attacks instead of a shield. [embedded link to DA:TV gameplay reveal video] Abilities, like a Spartan-like kick from a Warrior or a Mage's firewall that deals continuous damage, add to the player's repertoire of combat options. Warriors can parry incoming attacks, staggering enemies in the process. Rogues have a larger parry window, and Mages can't parry at all but instead throw up a shield that blocks all incoming damage so long as they have the mana to sustain the shield. "That is just the baseline that allows us to get that level of immersion of, 'I'm actually in this world; I'm a part of it,'" Busche says. "But again, the abilities, the strategy, linking my companions' abilities together to perform devastating combos, that is really where the depth and the complexity comes into play." Abilities And The Skill Tree"

"[caption for image above] Warrior Rook Skill Tree This extends to companions, who, at your choosing, bring three abilities (of their five total) into combat, executed either with quick select buttons or the pause-and-play combat wheel. Every time you rank up a companion's Relationship Level, you unlock a skill point to spend specifically on that companion – this is how you unlock new combat abilities. Though companion skill trees pale in comparison to Rook's expansive tree, which features passive abilities, combat abilities, and more, as well as paths to three unique class specializations, there's still some customization here. You can find the skill tree for Rook and companions within Veilguard's start or pause menu. This menu contains pages for Veilguard's map, journal, character sheets, and a library for lore information, too. Here, you can cross-compare equipment and equip new gear for Rook and companions, build weapon loadouts, and customize your abilities and builds via the aforementioned skill tree, which looks relatively easy to understand."

"- Large circle: Class - Diamonds: Abilities - Medium circle: Major Passives and Ability Upgrades - Small hexagon: Traits - Small circle: Minor Passives and Stat Boosts You won't find minutiae here, "just real numbers," Busche says. In other words, a new unlocked trait might increase damage by 25% against armor, but that's as in-depth as the numbers get. Passive abilities unlock jump attacks and guarantee critical hit opportunities, while abilities add moves like firewall and spartan kicks to your arsenal. As you spec out this skill tree, which is 100% bespoke to each class, you'll work closer to unlocking a specialization (which doesn't take reaching the max level of 50). Every class has three specializations, each with a unique ultimate ability. Busche says BioWare's philosophy with the skill tree is "about changing the way you play, not the statistical minutiae." Companions In Combat"

"If you completely ignore companions in combat, they will attack targets, use abilities, and defeat enemies all on their own. "[Companions] are their own people, "Busche says. "They have their own behaviors, they have their own autonomy on the battlefield, they'll pick their own targets. As their plots progress, they'll learn how to use their abilities more competently, and it really feels like you're fighting alongside these realized characters in battle." Speaking to companion synergy, Busche adds, "I see all the abilities Harding has, and I see everything that Bellara is capable of. And sometimes, I'm using vulnerabilities synergistically. Maybe I'm pausing or slowing time with Bellara so that I can unleash devastating attacks with Harding, knocking down the enemy, and then me, as Rook, I'm rushing in and capitalizing on this setup they've created for me. It is a game about creating this organic sense of teamwork." Busche says there are more explicit synergies, with intentional combos where specific companions can play off each other, and you can queue up their abilities to do just that. That’s what the pause-and-play combat wheel is for in Veilguard. In this screen, which pauses the camera and pulls up a flashy combat wheel that highlights you and your companions' skills, you can choose abilities, queue them up, and strategize with synergies and combos the game recognizes, all while targeting specific enemies. Select what you want and release the wheel to watch your selections play out. Putting It All Together"

During a mission within Arlathan Forest after Veilguard's prologue, Busche utilizes Veilguard's dual-loadout mechanic. As Rook, you can create two weapon loadouts for quick switch-ups mid-combat. As a mage Rook, she uses magical attacks to add three stacks of arcane build-up to make an Arcane Bomb on a Sentinel, a mechanical set of armor possessed by a demon. If you hit the Sentinel's Arcane Bomb with a heavy attack, the enemy will take devastating damage. Once the Sentinel has an Arcane Bomb on it, Busche begins charging a heavy attack on her magical staff, then switches to magical daggers in Rook's second loadout, accessed with a quick tap of down on the d-pad to unleash some quick light attacks, then back to the staff to finish charging its attack. She then unleashes the heavy attack, and the Arcane Bomb explodes in a liquidy whirl of green magic. "I've seen [Veilguard's combat] refined over time [and] I love it," BioWare general manager Gary McKay tells me. "I love that balance of real-time fluid action, but also the ability to have the depth in the RPG, not just in terms of pause-and-play, but the depth in terms of how you bring your companions into the battlefield. What are you going to do with their skill points? What's the loadout you're going to use? Everything is about bringing Rook to the center of the battlefield, and I love it." Former Dragon Age executive producer and Veilguard consultant Mark Darrah feels Veilguard is the first game where the combat is legitimately fun. "What I see in Veilguard is a game that finally bridges the gap," he says. "Uncharitably, previous Dragon Age games got to the realm of 'combat wasn't too bad.' In this game, the combat's actually fun, but it does keep that thread that's always been there. You have the focus on Rook, on your character, but still have that control and character coming into the combat experience from the other people in your party." I get the sense from watching Busche play several hours of Veilguard that BioWare has designed a combat system that relies heavily on players extracting what they want out of it. If you want to button mash and use abilities freely when their cooldowns expire, you can probably progress fine (although on the game's easier difficulties). But if you want to strategize your combos, take advantage of elemental vulnerabilities, and min-max companions and Rook loadouts, you can do that, too, and I think you'll find Veilguard rewards that with a more enriching experience. For more about the game, including exclusive details, interviews, video features, and more, click the Dragon Age: The Veilguard hub button below."

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

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devilmen-collector · 9 months ago

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The Pope is Dead

Ft. M!MC, the Devil Kings (only the five who have been released), Gamigin and other nobles (only nobles who have appeared stories, except Astaroth, I don't have any story part with Astaroth in my account), the Seraphim

C/W: religious theme, reader's death (natural cause)

This is a revamp of my own fic in OM with similar theme

It has been 72 years...

It has been 72 years since you last saw them. Back then, you were a young man with many lustful desires of the youth. Yet you remember the time you spent with them... It went by in an instant but you were happy.

When did it start to go wrong? When did the conflict start to appear? Maybe because your got into conflict with them when you saw or heard them blaspheme God. After all, you were raised a cradle Catholic, seeing them blaspheme God never sat right with you. Or maybe it was because you saw the danger if devils continued to have influence on humanity. After all, we and they are two different races, with different views towards things. And you knew that many things applied to devils and their society can't be applied to human society, regarding how the society works, government, laws, etc. You foresaw what you believed to be the inevitable destruction if you continued to let human have contact with devils. Or maybe some other reasons. It was very complicated. Sometimes, you don't even know what ultimately led to the rift.

That day 72 years ago, you used the devils' power to pull the strings behind the scene to get yourself elected to the most powerful spiritual position in the world, the Pope. The devils were unhappy but they followed your wish anyway, even though your office is totally opposed to them. They loved you too much for their own good to go against your will.

Right after your election, you exposed the existence of angels and devils to the world. With concreate evidence, even the most convinced atheists and agnostics before had to believe in the existence in the supernatural. Then you made sure the idea that the human society was incompatible in every way to devils became the mainstream and most accepted opinion. You also made sure that people never believed that inventions came from devils, but devils only claimed that to be the case to control human society. Leaders of the world soon declared they would be cutting ties with the devils. You didn't believe them completely, of course, which was why you waged a Crusade. The Crusade was fueled by either the faith or the wrath of 8 billion normal citizen and it was so effective that it's believed that all ties between Earth and Hell were cut off. At least, no concrete evidence or sign or any report sent to you supported a remaining connection between earth and Hell.

You also used the powers that you inherited from your ancestor, Solomon, to make a shield around papal residence, which prevents any devil from coming in.

As for the angels, you tricked the Seraphim that you were on their side now. With what you had done, they believed in you. But you trapped them and turned them into energy sources to sustain the shield around your residence. With their infinite life forces God has given them, they are still alive and curse you every day from under the Vatican basilica, where they are imprisoned.

Even though you did manage to cut off Hell's influence on humanity and make the Church's influence stronger, world peace has never been achieved as you have hoped, many people still live in poverty and starvation. Technology is more advanced, but the world is still the same now when you are at death's door as it was 72 years ago.

*cough cough*

"Holy Father" your secretary uses a piece of tissue to wipe the blood that is flowing from your mouth after the coughing.

"We have little time left." You say, almost like a whisper, but all of those cardinals, bishops, priests and doctors around you understand what you said. Your priest secretary can't even hold back his tears.

"We are the longest-reigning Pope ever, with 72 yeats occupying the Chair of St. Peter, but We have not achieved anything noteworthy, except pushing all devils back to Hell."

"No, Holy Father, you have achieved something we couldn't for more than 20 centuries. God will reward His faithful servant." A cardinal says.

"You are a faithful laborer of the Lord." Says another cardinal.

Suddenly, a Swiss guard runs into the room, his face terrified.

"T-the Devil Kings, t-they are here..." The guard says as he pants.

Ah, the shield protecting the papal residence must have been weakening as I lay dying. You say to yourself. That must be the reason why the Devil Kings can break in now.

"Leave." You say calmly. All the clergy and the guard turn to look at you, surprised by your order.

"Leave." You order again, your tone more firm this time. It's time for you to face them, alone. The children God has committed to your care have nothing to do with this.

Some of them start to cry but all of them leave, but not before whispering among themselves to alert all the exorcists and papal guards. However, the Swiss guard stay.

"Holy Father, I have sworn to protect you, even if I have to sacrifice myself." The Swiss guard says. You know he won't leave so you agree to let him stay.

The doors to your room bursts open, as four devil kings, no, three devil kings and a hundreds of flies step or fly into the room. You can see the young guard standing by your side shudder but he stands firm, determining to protect you, whatever the cost he may have to pay.

"You have changed so much." Beelzebub is the first one to speak as his handsome appearance emerge from hundreds of flies. He doesn't smile.

"We- I see that you guys are still the same." You look at the four devil kings. There's Beelzebub, Mammon, Leviathan, and Lucifer.

So Satan, Asmodeus and Belphegor aren't here. They must be so mad at me that they don't want to see me again. You say within yourself. You aren't surprised that the nobles aren't here. The shield may be weakened because you are dying, allowing the kings to pass through, but you are still breathing and sustaining it with your powers, and it's strong enough to prevent the nobles.

"Not the same ever since you left, Master." Mammon says with a sad voice.

You are surprised to hear Mammon still calling you Master, but you no longer have the strength to point it out.

"I must have hurt you guys a lot."

"Yes, you did." Leviathan says with an angry expression. "You said you would stay in Hell but you betrayed us." However, the scowl is quickly replaced by an expression that looks like Leviathan is holding back his emotions.

Lucifer is the first one to come over to your bed. The guard beside you raises his weapon but he's knocked unconscious soon enough.

"Don't kill him." You say weakly.

Lucifer nods as he takes your hand. He checks your weakening pulse. You can see his eyes sadden. "Oh the fate of all children of Adam." You can hear him whispering, like talking to himself. Other kings also come over and stand beside your bed.

Ah, that's my cue. You close your eyes, awaiting your cruel death, after all, you are on your death bed, you have no regrets.

However, nothing comes.

"Aren't you going to kill me?" You open your eyes and ask.

"No, we're here to take you home." Beelzebub answers.

"Even after my betrayal?"

"We have never gotten over that. But knowing you are dying, we want to take you back first, Master. We will talk about this over in Hell."

"I'm dying, Mammon. I can't be there for the talk."

"That's why we have created a plan."

"We will wait for you to die, so that the office of the Pope will leave you. Then we will have Gamigin revive you."

"And I'll have Orias feed you angel's soul to make you young again."

"It won't work." You say calmly. "It's the sentence on all children of Adam. Gamigin's revival ability won't work. Just as your healing ability won't work on me, Lucifer, because I'm dying of natural cause."

The kings go silent. They know you could be right. Lucifer, more than anyone, knows you are right because none of the healing he is doing works. He only clings to some hope. You know you are crushing their hope, but you have accepted your fate long ago. At least you know they still love you. Thinking about that, tears start to flow from your eyes

"Where are Satan and the others?" You ask.

"Gehenna nobles are here. But Satan...he's very depressed after you left."

"It will be...too...late..."

The vision you start to see changes. The images of yourself and your memories, be it happy or sad, start to flash through your eyes. With each moment of you with the devils, your tears start to shed more as you can't help but say "sorry", "I miss you" and "I love you" in your mind. Your breathing becomes harder and you can't feel your body anymore.

Lord, forgive me, I wish I could have served you more faithfully.

I love you all and I'm sorry.

Is that Leamas and Nina waving at me?

Is that you... Minhyeok? It has been so long.

"You have done what you think is best. Now rest." The young man with long purple hair says and smiles. "With you, my bloodline is extinct, but I won't hold it against you." You can even hear a little bit mischief toward the end.

Outside the papal residence, the devil nobles, led by Sitri, Bimet, Foras and Bael, are engaged in a mostly glaring contest at the guards and exorcists and clergy who have arrived to aid the Pope. There are a few guards lying on the ground, but they are only knocked unconscious.

"No." Sitri suddenly laments as the shield around the palace disintegrated.

"That means..."

"Let's go inside."

As the devils rush inside, the clergy, exorcists and guards follow suit.

As they come into the room, they see the devil kings surrounding you, who are clearly dead.

"Holy Father!" All of Catholics in the room kneel down and weep.

"Who is the Camerlengo?" Lucifer asks and one cardinal stands up in response to his question. The Camerlengo knows what he has to do. He comes over to check your body to confirm if you are dead or not.

"I need a doctor. But all doctors left for safety. Only us clergy returned."

Lucifer turns and nods at Morax, who comes over to check on you. After finishing, he tells the Camerlengo his conclusion. The Camerlengo turns to all in the room and says.

"The Pope is dead."

The Camerlengo turns back to you. He kisses the golden ring on your right hand and takes it out and destroys it in the presence of all, signifying the end of your papacy. The Catholics make the sign of the Cross and say the prayers for the dead. A priest leaves for the adjacent room to say Mass for the deceased pontiff.

Even with the plan, the devil kings don't plan to stop the piety of the Catholics.

"Gamigin."

"Yes, hyung."

Satan arrives when the bells of the Vatican basilica are being rung. Hundreds of people in the square immediately get into prayers as they know what those bells signify. Satan doesn't care and speeds up his vehicle pass them.

Many thoughts are going through Satan's head: anger, depression, the feeling of betrayed, sadness, etc. But the biggest thought in his head is that he wants to meet you again. Everything else, let's sort out later. He speeds up the Akira into the papal residence. The Akira runs through the corridors until it arrives at the room of the Pope. Satan only stops because he can't go in further with the motorcycle. He can't wait to see his beloved alive and well because he believes in the plan. He did feel his bond with the human got broken earlier but he believes in Gamigin's ability to bring his human back.

"Where's MC?" Satan runs in the room and shouts.

"He's right there." Mammon says with a sad voice and points at the bed.

No. Satan rushed over to your bed. No, it can't be.

"Gamigin, why haven't you brought him back yet?" Satan shouts his question at Gamigin, who is holding his staff and stands behind Lucifer.

"Your Majesty, it didn't work. MC's heart will no longer beat." Sitri tries to stay composed as much as possible as he reports to Satan but the hand holding the tea cup is shaking.

Satan turns to the remains of you on the bed.

"OPEN YOUR EYES AND TELL ME THIS IS A CRUEL JOKE, MC!!!" Satan shouts and punches the wall on the side of the bed, making it crack.

All of the human in the room flinch at Satan's wrathful action, however, your lifeless body makes no move.

"I want to take MC's remains back to Gehenna." Satan says as he crunches his teeth.

"No, you can't do that. A Catholic must be buried on consecrated ground." A bunch of clergy react and state the Church's teaching.

"I will kill all of you." Satan crunches his teeth again. The clergy flinch but don't have any intention to back down.

"Your Majesty Satan," Paimon intervenes, "if you kill them, MC will be sad. After all, they are MC's spiritual children.

"I can let you consecrate a plot of land in Paradise Lost." Lucifer says.

"We have to see what he has written in his will." The Camerlengo says. "But his will can only be opened at the meeting of cardinals after the mourning period, but before the next conclave."

"How long before the next conclave?" Leviathan asks.

"15 days, the Canon Law doesn't allow anytime sooner." The Camerlengo answers.

Leviathan scowls but Beelzebub intervenes.

"Then let's wait for 2 weeks. If MC has a clause in his will to be buried in Hell, can you promise you will accept that and give his body to us?"

"Only with the condition of burial on consecrated ground and we can build a chapel around it."

"You have only mentioned the consecrated ground before, now you include a chapel. You human just keep asking more and more." Leviathan scowls again.

Before anyone can say another thing, the ground begins to shake like there is an earthquake. But it soon stops.

"They are here." Lucifer mumbles. "But they won't have any strength left to fight if we are here."

The devils all look outside the window and they see three shadows emerge from underground. They are the three Seraphim, finally released from their bondage after the death of their captor.

The Devil Kings immediately surround the bed to protect the remains of their beloved.

"Where is he? I'm going to cut off his head." Michael growls, he's so angry that blood vessel can be seen on his face.

Sensing the Devil Kings, the Seraphim all look at the papal residence, which is right beside the Vatican basilica.

"He-he's dead." Gabriel says as he looks at the remains on the bed through the window.

Seeing that you're dead, Raphael begins to laugh maniacally non-stop, so much that he has to hug his stomach mid-air.

"The kings are here. Let's...retreat for today." Michael says as his wings soar toward the sky. Gabriel follows suit.

"Remember to send funeral invitation." Raphael says finally before following his two brothers.

"Let continue our discussion later." The Camerlengo says after the commotion has subsided.

Some other people enter the room and walk toward the remains of the Pope.

"What are you doing?" Satan crunches his teeth as the newcomers.

"Calm down, Satan. They are here to take the body away for bathing and vesting."

All the devils don't want to leave you but they all back down to let people do their job.

...

"You really are so beautiful, Master, it's like all the precious things in this world are created to adorn you." Mammon says as he looks at the papal remains put on display inside the Vatican basilica of St. Peter.

You lying there, on a dark green catafalque. You are vested with red vestments, your hands are vested with red gloves embroidered with the Holy Name of the Savior, your legs wear traditional red papal shoes embroidered with a golden cross on each one. On each shoe is also adorned a ruby, which came from Mammon's treasury. A golden cross and a rosary were also put in your hands. The golden cross was from Lucifer, an accessory from the time he was still a Seraph. On your head, a golden mitre, with two folds, representing the Old Testament and the New Testament, the two "horns" of a bishop. Surrounding the catafalque are 72 candles made from pure beeswax, each represents a year of your pontificate.

The kings and their nobles stand on the upper floor of the basilica, looking at thousands of mourners paying respect to you. Each cardinal who comes over sprinkles holy water on your remains and kisses your hand. Priests and religious gather around your remains to pray for your soul.

At an occasion like this, Bimet would have already gone to collect funeral money. However, this time, he doesn't want to do that, but only to look at your "sleeping" face. Eligos standing next to him can't stop his sniffles. Valefor standing behind Mammon looking at your remains, now that nothing can be done to bring you back to them, he wishes he could stand guard beside your body as the last thing he could do for you.

Foras doesn't say anything but his heart is broken, even his beautiful horns seem to be darker than normal. Barbatos looks at the withered rose in his hand. In his heart currently there is a complete solar eclipse that has covered the sun of his life, the sun which he knows will never shine its light on him again. Glasyalabolas can't help but get angry with you, with Leviathan, with everyone, and with himself. Angry with you for being a traitor to his love. Angry with Leviathan for his bad decision of not pursuing you when the problem starts and only meet you when you are dying. Angry with everyone who separate you from him, including God. And angry with himself for failing the promise to create a kingdom with only you two. Orias drops the angel's soul in his hand. It was the angel's soul that was supposed to be used to make you young again. But what use is it when you are dead?

Bael is the only one staying in the basilica of Abyss camp, beside Beelzebub, closing his eyes remembering your smile and each moment you called his name sweetly. Stolas has gone somewhere to shoot his guns to his heart's content, calling it the last salute for you, who are "a fool". Naberius and Amon are staying with him, not speaking a word.

"It doesn't come true." Leraye remembers he once said he saw you both walking together on the streets of Gehenna, enjoying your time together for many years to come. But that never comes true. He's wondering of the only target he has missed is your heart, he fails in convincing you to stay in Hell. Paimon tries to console Leraye, but his heart is also breaking apart. Zagan doesn't say a word but he has lost an important person he must protect. Belial tries not to shed any tear, he has to stay strong for Jjyu. Sitri couldn't hold his tea cup anymore and it is dropped to the ground, shattering into countless pieces.

Andrealphus holds tight to his scythe, as if he needs something to hold tight to after he lost you. They say twins share a soul. He lost half of his souls when his brother was killed. But your death breaks to pieces the remaining half.

"It's my fault. I can't bring him back." Gamigin blames himself.

"No, it's not your fault." Each time Gamigin blames himself, a brother of his in Paradise Lost will reject that. They don't say anything more comforting because they have no strength to do that right now.

Each of the kings' heart is broken but each of them knows they have to stay strong, as for their nobles and people. They will only mourn your death in private.

Lucifer is the only one walking in the lower floor. He doesn't join the line of mourners but wandering around aimlessly, no one stops him either. Finally, he stops to look at the mosaic of the Eternal Father stretching his hand out on the dome of the basilica.

Why? Father, why? I have served you faithfully since the beginning of time, I had one source of happiness, and you took him away from me. Why? SAY SOMETHING! ANSWER ME!

...

In a graveyard in Korea, where almost no one comes on such a mourning day for the whole world, there is a little lump floating above a grave. He poured a glass of soju on the ground of the grave.

"Minhyeok, the son of Solomon...went over to meet you. Have you two...reunited? I hope you did. Please...send my regards to him." Ppyong says even though he can't stop his sniffles.

The end.

...

I have an epilogue but decided to not write it and let you guys decide the final burial place :)

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xamiipholia · 11 months ago

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okay y'all seemed to like the last one so here's a few more Horizon 3 thoughts:

Aloy won’t die. It would completely upend the series’ themes and just be really nihilistic.

Since Nemesis is a gestalt entity I think it’s a safe bet that we’ll see Sam Witwer, Carrie-Anne Moss, etc again. I’m curious how they’re going to do it because at least structurally, it’s basically a reaper. Maybe it’ll use different Avatars when communicating like the Leviathan in ME3.

It's gonna take some work to make a flashback/dream/vision not contrived but I would love to see Varl and Rost again. I think we deserve that.

Minerva is gonna have its work cut out for it blocking access to both the dormant Faro Swarm and the ZD terraforming system.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Nemesis has some sort of corruption function that becomes the equivalent of the corruption in HZD. It would be a really fun tech showcase if GG uses Zenith nanotech for machine corruption and leans into mechanical body horror.

If we’re going to Ban-Ur I really really hope they do the work to make the Banuk less problematic and more fleshed out as a culture. A quasi-Spartan society absolutely would not survive in an extreme environment, *especially* without megafauna to hunt. The Banuk characters are lovely and well-written; they deserve a society as well thought out as the Utaru or Carja. I’m honestly fine if there’s retcons or revamps to the cultural lore because the whole “outsider barges in and becomes chief” is rooted in racist, colonial tropes and we just don’t really need that imo.

The most recent footage of Death Stranding 2 (also running on Decima) has me SO excited for the visuals. GG’s gonna knock it out. The facial rendering and animation that Kojima Productions are doing looks industry-peak and I’m sure GG’s gonna match that. Aloy’s Gay Panic™️ scene on the beach in HBS is already top-tier nonverbal storytelling through animation. Digital Foundry actually just posted a really cool tech breakdown of the current Decima engine. I’m especially excited about the environmental stuff. The ocean simulations in HFW are already incredible and I hope they increase verticality in the world. I can’t wait to see the Sacred Lands in current gen graphics.

I really love Kotallo’s DIY arm and it’s so so important to his development but Beta and Gaia now have access to Zenith nanotech, maybe give your buddy a sick upgrade hmm?

Speaking of, I can’t wait to see Beta come into her own. She’s one of the best parts of HFW and Aloy’s character absolutely shines in a sibling dynamic.

I wouldn’t get your hopes up for a romance mechanic. Everyone’s feelings on that aside, it would be really odd from a game development perspective to just overhaul part of how the narrative develops Aloy’s character in the last act of the story. Yeah, there are flashpoints but I would argue that the presence of choice in Horizon is smoke and mirrors- cosmetic at best. Kentucky Route Zero (which you should play) does something similar where the player is given a certain amount of control over the substance of individual conversations and scenarios and it does absolutely nothing to alter the plot, by design. I think it’s the same here - this isn’t really a choice-based RPG, the flashpoints don’t really affect anything plot-wise or for Aloy’s character development. Olin is still out of the story, Nil lives, Regalla still dies one way or another. Aloy’s character development is pretty firmly on rails (think Jin Sakai, not Shepard - you get to guide some momentary character reactions but that’s it). I don’t think HBS is a testing ground either - If they were gonna introduce a romance mechanic I think they’d just do it, and not spend two years making a direct continuation of HFW’s main quest and establishing a specific romance hard-baked into the plot, complete with multiple leitmotifs for the character relationship (which is something they haven’t done before afaik) just to introduce a side quest mechanic coming in 5 years. I genuinely can’t think of any game or dev that has beta tested a major alteration to upcoming game mechanics that way - it doesn’t really make any sense in terms of developer resources, and these games are extremely time-consuming to make. I know this is a thing a bunch of people want and I can totally empathize with that! I just think it’s probably not on the table.

I would bet money the series will bookend itself and the epilogue will involve a) the naming of Zo and Varl’s kid and b) Lis’ pendant.

Mostly I'm just looking forward to being surprised. One of my favorite things that Horizon does is use carefully established elements in the world to pull the plot in unexpected directions and keeping the world grounded while they lean into speculative science fiction. I can't wait to see what Guerrilla is cooking up

#horizon 3 #horizon zero dawn #horizon forbidden west #horizon #hfw #aloy #guerrilla games #hzd #horizon burning shores #horizon theories #well not so much theories as observation and vague speculation #and some zesty takes #I love this world though #erend #sylens #varl #kotallo #beta #alva

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ivoryghostyy · 1 year ago

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「 image, not mine. sourced from pinterest. 」

「 note: previously known as "love bite" and this is the actual revamp of the oneshot. "destined pair" feels too different from the original, so here's something closer. have fun. ^^ 」

「 tw: possessive, mentions of blood, non-consensual biting, non-consensual drinking of blood, slightly suggestive?, implications of stalking, violence — read with caution, i guess. 」

a dark chuckle reverberates through the winding hallways, filling you with a sinking sense of dread.

"come now, you can't hide from me. while i do enjoy this little game of chase, i'm beginning to lose my patience."

you do your best to calm the erratic pace of your heart, but the pressure is getting to you. you're bleeding out, for god's sake. for all you knew, you wouldn't make it out of this alive.

'how comforting,' you thought, as you basked in your own bitter notions. your mind blanks, however, when you finally notice the footsteps resounding nearby.

they're quiet—you barely heard them—but they're close.

dangerously close.

your first mistake was exposing yourself so soon. it was meant to be a quick mission: locate the target and take him down. but he had noticed you too early—almost instantly, as if he knew the whole time.

that should have been enough of a reason for you to back out, as even the slightest risk could lead to your death. you're dealing with vampires, after all.

yet, absurdly, you continued on.

why? somehow, you didn't know either. 'could be the alcohol. or perhaps, there was something bigger at play here. regardless, you kept your pace, staying at a distance and waiting for an opportunity to strike.

which, to be honest, took a lot longer than you expected. if only you could simply kill the witnesses, too.

he was a social butterfly, easily getting along with every person he conversed with. but then again, why wouldn't he? he manages a large organization, after all. with a handsome grin, he knocked everyone's guards down, leaving them completely vulnerable to his charms.

he's beautiful, you'll give him that.

after a while, he excuses himself, and you tail after him. as an experienced hunter, you've learned to mask your presence; to hide within the shadows cast beneath the soft moonlight.

it was going smoothly.

until it wasn't.

he stopped, turning his head to meet your alarmed gaze. it was brief, but it was enough for you to know: he knew you were there.

ruh-roh raggy.

you knew that playing ignorant wouldn't work on him. you've read his files—despite them highly lacking in details. he does a good job of keeping his information confidential—it's practically part of his job to find out if someone's lying or not!

seduction? he may be hot, but really, all you want to do right now is go to sleep. you are not getting laid tonight. really?

'alright, plan C it is.'

you booked it.

cursing under your breath, you ignore the painful ache of your poor feet. you'll be fine, probably. this isn't your first rodeo. for the record, you've once managed to escape with a broken leg, a stab wound, and a splitting headache. this should be easy! don't be so complacent, dear. plot armour can only do so much.

his looming figure casts a shadow over your guarded frame.

"there you are."

you're stuck. trapped between two unwavering arms as he grinned cheekily at you. his eyes are dilated, and he looks almost.. intoxicated.

"i warned you, didn't i? you can't hide from me, fawn."

fawn.

what a stupid nickname. you sneer.

"i'm impressed, really. not many can land a hit on me."

he refers to the healing cut on his chest, the wound beginning to weave itself back together.

righr now, you couldn't do much. with a bleeding gash running from along your hips, you're basically screwed. your hand clutches the wound, blood trickling through your palm as you struggle to apply enough force to your trembling hand.

god, you feel so weak. his eyes pull you into a trance-like state, and you're barely able to hold yourself together. he leans down with an angelic curl to his lips, reaching up to stroke your cheek.

"how cute. 'still resisting, dear? my, you're quite stubborn."

you grumble under your breath. unfortunately for you, he hears it. glowing optics bore right into you, and for a moment, you thought he'd kill you right then and there.

to your surprise, however, he simply chuckles. you release a breath of relief, shivering from the hot puff of air that brushes your neck.

then you wheeze; a pained gasp fumbling out of your lips as he slams you against the wall. a rough hand curls around your throat, sharp nails poking your skin—that should be enough of a warning to keep you still.

"now," your eyes trail to the side as you shift;

but he moves in, lips only an inch away from yours.

"ah-ah, what are you looking at, fawn? i don't want your attention straying. your gaze is meant only for me."

"shut up, you i-insufferable-" you cough, lightly gasping when the grip on your throat tightens.

"-oversized mosquito!"

…

goddamn it-

"pfft-"

his eyes crinkle as he laughs, and you're completely stunned; mesmerized by how genuine he sounds. seriously, has this guy considered making asmr videos?

"oversized mosquito? is that supposed to be an insult?"

his grip loosens for a moment, but he regains his composure before you can make a move. fuck vampires and their inhuman speed.

"i quite like you. you've always been an entertaining little fawn." he pauses, a thoughtful look crossing his handsome features before he smirks. "i've decided, i'll be keeping you." it shouldn't be a problem. you've always been his.

he smiles, but his eyes are dimly lit, glinting ominously.

"what!? no-" he interrupts you, a sharpened nail digging into the skin of your neck, drawing a few drops of blood.

"i don't think you heard me. see,"

he guides you impossibly closer. his lips now only mere centimetres away from yours. his thumb trails along your jaw as the other wanders up the skin of your thigh, landing on the small of your back. his touch leaves a trail of heat, a shiver crawling up your spine.

"i wasn't asking, fawn."

and in the next moment, you're pinned against the wall. he leans his weight against you, pulling your hands behind your back. his fangs graze your neck, and you can feel your heart beating frantically.

"i'll have you, even if i have to break you in the process."

the dread settles in, and for the first time in years, you're filled with pure, unadulterated fear.

"shh, don't worry, dear. the pain is only for a moment."

you're scared. he's going to bite you. he's going to bite you. as a last-ditch attempt, you move to stun him.

"stay still."

he's quicker.

fangs sink into your skin, and you whimper at the pain. the feeling of your blood being drained, of the unbearable sting of his fangs in your neck, you almost cry from the agonizing discomfort.

but this isn't what you fear the most. no, this doesn't even come close. you're not scared of pain; half your life was spent with pain playing the role of a clingy lover.

what you fear.. is what comes next.

pleasure.

you can't succumb to it. you can't! you can still take him down with what little strength you have left. you need to resist-

his fanks sink deeper, lulling the ache away and replacing it with a heated embrace. your tense muscles relax, and you stifle a guttural moan at the growing heat in your abdomen.

your instincts fight against the sedative effects, still trying to pull you out from drowning in pleasure.

wake up, goddamn it! he'll kill you!

breathing heavily, you once again struggle against his hold, forcing yourself to shove him off.

his jaw clenches, and you flinch. his hand pulls you closer, pressing against your stomach, causing a wave of heat to course through your trembling frame.

you feel so sensitive; almost like you're drunk on aphrodisiac.

as all fight leaves you, an open moan flittering through your lips. your eyebrows furrow. you don't feel the need to resist anymore.

why would you? you're safe with him. he is all you need.

your limbs grow heavy. why're you so tired? you groan, leaning your head back as he moves away. your wobbly legs can barely hold you up, so he takes the liberty of pulling you into his arms.

he grins in content, licking off the stray blood on your neck. you shiver, clutching the fabric of his clothes. 'you're so adorable. all vulnerable and dazed in his hold,' he muses to himself. you're disoriented, unable to think clearly as you nuzzle into his chest.

"look at you, darling. safe and warm, right here with me."

he'll make sure to take care of you. he's not just watching from afar anymore; now, you're finally in his arms.

'finally, mine.'

#₊👻❜﹕phantasy press con.#₊💀❜﹕teratophilia edition #random scenarios #possessive yandere #tw stalking #i dont know what i am doing #scenarios #yeah idk #vampire #slightly suggestive #tw noncon #yandere x reader #vampire x reader #x reader #reader insert #yes

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sunflowerrosewood · 7 months ago

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Innocent Yet Intelligent ~ Oswald Cobblepot

Author's Note: Since my other account @cheekyredwillow got deleted. I am adding some of my favorite fanfictions to this account and revamping this one with new ones. I hope to make an actual list of fandoms I am still a fan of! NO requests for the time being.

Warnings: none

~~~

You were the new elementary teacher for 2nd graders in Gotham city. You are Jim Gordon’s sister named Y/n and you recently moved back. You were finishing up some school work and grades before Jim messaged you that he was going to pick you up from work to take you back to your shared apartment. Luckily the police department was only a few minutes away. So you completed some grading as Jim messaged you he was here.

“What took you so long?” Jim asked as you pulled your messenger bag into the car.

“I was completing some grading while you were on your way. I finished the last assignment when you told me you were here.” You said as he smiled at you.

“You always are so kind to those kids.” Jim said as you laughed.

“Just because I’m a teacher in Gotham doesn’t mean I have to be bad.” You laughed as Jim’s phone went off. You barely heard the conversation except Jim saying to meet at the police department and he would talk there.

“Sorry we have to make a pit stop by the police department.” Jim apologized as you buckled your seat belt.

“I’m not surprised. But I’m not in a rush to get home.” You said as Jim nodded his head and drove back to the police department.

Once you got there, Jim wanted to have you come inside because he was afraid this meeting would last long. You told him that you would bring in some lesson plans and grading to keep you busy.

So the two of you walked into Gotham PD and you saw a man in a tuxedo, black straight hair, and a limp in one of his legs. You couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat as he met your eyes.

“Thank you for meeting me Jim and who might this beautiful lady be?” The man asked as Jim rolled his eyes.

“The lady you are commenting on is my sister Y/n. She’s going to be working on some lessons while we meet. I wasn’t going to leave her in the car.” Jim introduced as you playfully roll your eyes.

“I could introduce myself you know?” You said as Jim shrugged his shoulders. “Who might this be?”

“My name is Oswald Cobblepot.” Oswald introduced as he kissed your hand.

"Oh I didn't know you meant the Mayor?" You said towards Jim while blushing.

"Can we get this meeting started or do you two still need to flirt some more?" Jim snapped as you shrugged your shoulders.

"I'm fine here. I don't mind it Jim." You said as Jim walked towards the meeting room. "My apologies Oswald, he is overprotective."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to see you after?" Oswald offered.

Before you could answer, Jim pulled Oswald into the office. Your smile fell as you were itching to tell Oswald you'd love to. As you sat down to work on work, you missed the conversation that went on before the "real" conversation.

"Look Oswald, stay away from my sister. She is innocent and I don't need you corrupting her." Jim snapped while holding Oswald's collar.

“Jim, Jim, Jim. I know you are protective of her but she likes me like how I like her.” Oswald said as Jim continued to hold his collar.

“Either stay away or don’t plan on corrupting her. She’s the only family I have left.” Jim growled as Oswald held his hands up.

“I wasn’t planning on harming her. Look, I think she looks nice and I’d like to ask her out. I’m not planning on making her some evil ruler of Gotham. I don’t want her to change.” Oswald said as Jim sat him down.

As the meeting Jim and Oswald had begun to slow down, you had finished up what you were going to teach tomorrow. Jim and Oswald came out still chatting as you started to put things away.

Your notebook dropped off the desk and onto the floor and spilled some of your papers. You muttered under your breath and began to pick up the papers.

“Here, I’ll help.” Oswald said as he picked up some papers and handed them to you. “So about that date?”

“I’d love to see you again. The paper you just picked up is my number, take it.” You said softly as Oswald tuck it into his tuxedo’s pants.

“Then I will be calling you soon.” Oswald said as he gave you the notebook and kissed your hand. “See you soon Y/n.”

You noticed Jim seemed to be understanding and ushered you to the car. Oswald walked out with the two of you and opened the door to get into Jim’s car. It seemed they both had a silent understanding before Oswald was picked up in his limo and Jim drove back to his apartment. Jim told you later that he was okay with the two of you dating and wanted you to go with Oswald.

So when the text message came in if you would go on a date that Saturday, you immediately said yes and were excited for the weekend. You wondered what date you would end up going on.

#gotham #gotham fandom #gotham fanfic #gotham fanfiction #gotham oswald cobblepot #oswald cobblepot fanfiction #oswald cobblepot gotham #oswald cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot imagine #oswald cobblepot #gotham fluff #oswald cobblepot fluff #gotham oswald fanfiction

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marsbutterfly · 14 days ago

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Another Form of Love

a/n: this was originally written a couple years ago for my wife, @tsukidrama. I did revamp it a little bit but it is entirely based on her fic called "The Road Not Taken."

warnings: lmao, none. this is pure fluff. wc: 1.4k

Late-night meetings with the Alliance had become Annie's new routine. There hadn't been a single night throughout the week where she didn't get home before 11 p.m., maybe even later than that. She would barely listen to a single word they were saying, not even pretending to pay attention to the boring sentences that left Armin’s mouth. Her mind was completely elsewhere, a place she had left her heart at before making her way to the boat.

She couldn’t stop thinking about you. She barely had time to spare for even a cup of coffee, let alone for you or her father, and, to make things worse, she couldn't stop worrying about how the two of you would get along spending so much time together without having her around.

In the past, the two of you had been known to bicker. Small disagreements over what to make for dinner had turned into yelling matches about all the mistakes he had made while raising his daughter. All the times you have bitched him out while telling stories of a sobbing version of Annie that you had to comfort as she cried about her past.

She couldn’t deny that she was afraid of leaving the two of you alone for too long, but her presence during these meetings seemed to be more and more important these days, even if she was a silent shadow, unable to focus on whatever the subject was.

This night was no different: dealing with Armin talking about politics for over three hours and Pieck outsmarting him at every step of the way as he described his plan. Jean and Connie cracking jokes here and there while Reiner looked so tired, he might actually have fallen asleep with his eyes open for a second there.

By the time the car dropped her off at the cottage, she was exhausted and ready to go to bed. Her feet were hurting from wearing these ridiculous heels, her head was pounding and the idea of walking from the gate to the house seemed like an actual nightmare, but before she could get too distracted by her own misery, a distant sight caught her eye. The image of you and her father, the man spinning you around with certain difficulty but graciously at a certain level.

Her heart speeds up in her chest and she doesn’t even notice just how big her smile is until her cheeks start to hurt. It is the most endearing thing she has ever seen and, before either of you have time to see her, she quietly rushes to hide behind a relatively large bush.

Though she doesn’t need to be super careful, you are using every bit of your attention to make sure you don’t step on his toes, giving him the fake sensation that he is the one leading the dance. Your arm rests on his shoulder (upon his request), even though you don’t put nearly any weight on it in hopes of not putting extra stress on his injured leg.

From inside the house, the upbeat melody continues to play and it blends with the sound of your laughter. The two of you stumble around, dancing to the music. Though you would never tell him this, he was the one who taught you how to dance like this, who taught you how to spin and embrace the music with a relaxed body and mind.

Finally, the music comes to an end, and the two of you part ways. Your face feels warm, though you can’t tell if it is from embarrassment or from this workout session, your forehead is sweaty and your breathing is heavy, but the smile on your face could not mean anything short of absolute joy.

"Think you have one more in you?" He taunts and you laugh softly, already thinking about what vinyl you will play next once the final song is over but, as you are about to make your way into the house and take a look at his collection of records, a few drops of rain begin to fall from the sky. With the back of your wrist, you wipe away the droplets of salty liquid that rest on your forehead.

"We always do at least three albums," you say, taking your place back against him, his hand finding its way back to yours, "I'm not going to chicken out now, not because of a bit of rain!"

Finally, the last song begins to play and your feet gain a life of their own. Papa's hand finds a way towards your lower back and you, once again, support most of his body weight so he will be able to move in a more swift manner.

When the rhythm starts to pick up, the two of you begin a battle of wills, trying to see which one is more fit to lead the other. One arm crosses over the other, legs trip over on themselves and, ultimately, the two of you end up on the ground.

For a few seconds, you have a concerned look on your face, scared that the man would find himself in more pain than usual. The tension in the air is so thick that you could nearly cut it with a knife and Annie wonders if she should rush to assist her father.

As she takes one step out from behind the bush, she hears a sound she is not at all used to: her father’s laughter. The man places both of his hands behind his back for support, his legs extended before him while you immediately stand up.

It’s hard for her to see from the spot she is in, but from what she can tell, Papa has his ass on the ground, hat resting by his hands while you place both of your fists on your waist, head tilting to the side as you think for a couple of seconds about what is the best way to deal with the situation at hand.

The rain gets stronger and there is nothing you can do to lift this heavy, disabled man off of the ground, at least not without Annie's help. The best you can do for the time being is to loop your arms underneath his armpits and drag his body underneath the closest tree.

Lucky for you, as soon as his back comes in contact with the trunk of the tree, Annie's figure begins rushing towards the two of you, her heels in one hand while the other holds her purse above her head in an attempt to protect herself from the rain.

"What are you two doing out here?" She asks, holding back a smile while knowing damn well what the two of you were up to. You look away for a second, trying to come up with a lie but you realize that there is no reason not to tell her.

"We were dancing in the rain," Papa responds before you have a chance to. The two of you share a look before glancing at the blonde girl before you, her heart overflowing with love. There is nothing she wanted more for you and her father to get along and small things like this were enough to make her realize how lucky she is.

"Why are you on the ground?" She asks, placing her things down and putting her hair up in a bun, trying to get as much visibility as possible, even with all the water falling down her face. She wraps one of her father's arms around her shoulders and nods with her head for you to follow her lead, which you do without a second thought.

Together, the two of you manage to get the man up on his feet and, with the three of you working together, you make it to the house with enough time to not be completely soaked and still catch the last twenty seconds of the melody.

Once Papa is fully situated and has gone into the shower, Annie turns to you, lacing your fingers with hers as she looks deep into your eyes, "Will you give me the honor of dancing outside with me?"

“In the rain?” You laugh and she smiles, her thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“What? You haven’t had a Leonhardt Overdose yet, have you?” She teases and you continue to laugh. She may not be his biological daughter, but she sure has the exact same type of humor her father does. Your free hand comes up to her face, gently cupping her cheek as you bring your face closer. Once your foreheads touch, you close your eyes and enjoy her warmth for a split second before whispering,

"I would be delighted."

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happiestplacehq · 3 months ago

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SECOND STAR TO THE RIGHT AND STRAIGHT ON TILL

SEASON TWO !!

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. ⛧*｡ .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. ⛧*｡ .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

It is with great pleasure that I can finally announce the end to our hiatus, and the beginning of the new season of HAPPIESTPLACEHQ!

I cannot wait to see what the future brings for us, and hope that you are all as thrilled as I am to be back. Keep your eyes peeled for updated bios and graphics, new characters, events and plot drops, as well as an update to our rules and pages.

Not everything is complete just yet, so pardon our pixie dust for a moment longer while graphics continue to be changed in the coming weeks.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. ⛧*｡ .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. ⛧*｡ .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Please find below a full list of everything that has been updated during our revamp. Once you have read through the updates, roleplaying can once again begin!

The Rules Updates - [read the new rules page here]

New activity and character rules are now in place for all players! Please read carefully as this is in effect from 1st October.

Activity Changes

Players must be active on all their characters at least twice per month, on two separate weeks. (For example, posting on the 1st week of the month and the 3rd week of the month). This will be checked at the end of each month, and a warning issued to those who have not posted within this time span.

You must have an interaction with at least 2 other players (not characters) on each character. If you are seen to only be interacting with certain players (bubbling) and not reaching out to anyone else in the RP you will be issued a warning. You will be notified if you have been inactive on individual characters.

Please keep on top of the threads you owe and don’t drop threads after the first or second interaction. Reply to the starters people make for you, and reply to the replies you get on your open starters. Reply to open starters!! I will be checking reply counts on threads. Reply to your replies and communicate with your partner if the thread isn’t working.

If you’re going to be gone for between two weeks to a month or more, you must ask for a hiatus. You do not need to give a reason for the hiatus, but you are asked to check in with us at the end of your hiatus if you need an extension or are returning to the dash.

Muse posts do not count toward activity. Completing tasks does, as long as you have also been active at least once in the month.

Other Rules

In the interest of diversity and making our group as welcoming as possible to all writers, your 2nd character’s faceclaim must be either a Person of Colour, Body Diverse or Gender Diverse (or meet multiple criteria). If your 2nd character is not a person of colour, then your 3rd character must be a person of colour.

As our upper limit has been extended to 10 characters, we ask that no more than 4 characters are white & cisgender. This means that 6 characters must be diverse in some way, meeting at least one of the above criteria.

Starters are your friends. Please reply to at least two open starters before posting your own, and remember to post an open starter at minimum every few weeks so all players have a chance to interact.

So I know you have read and understood these changes to activity and character diversity, please reply to this post with your least favourite colour.

Character Bios

All bios will be receiving a fresh coat of paint over the next few weeks including better formatting and new graphics (the graphics load was too much to finish before the hiatus ended)

All currently taken bios will be reposted via the queue with new graphics and the updates everyone sent to me last month. (For blacklisting, I will be using the tag #happiestbio).

Open bios will be getting updates including new FCs and re-writes, which are still ongoing with the graphics. These will simply be updated rather than re-posted.

The character navigation page has been updated.

All old OCs have now been archived.

Page Updates

OOC and Contact Pages

Locations - now includes a long list of brand new locations! You can find it [here].

The navigation sections and plot drops section is currently being updated to be more cohesive. (This was more work than anticipated, but a dedicated page to the entire plot thus far is in the works.)

Applications

OC applications will now be open to all until the end of the year to celebrate our new season!

Applications will be open again from October 1st.

Our first acceptance of the season will be Friday 4th October!

Coming Soon

Our next event!

Another big plot drop and a big push toward furthering our plot!

New bios are on their way, and I'm super excited for you all to see them! These will be mixed into the queue with the taken bios.

A locations blog is coming soon, which will feature information on various spots around town. (Thank you Naomi for your ongoing help with this!)

Once again, thank you all for sticking around! I look forward to writing with you all again.

#disney rp #disney roleplay #lsrpg #ouat rp #fairytale rp #town rp #mystery rp #happiestmod #happiestplaceseason2

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gwen-ever · 1 month ago

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Chapter 2: The Traitor

Hey there, fabulous readers! 🖤 This is not your usual Chapter 1—it’s the remastered, deluxe edition! 🎉 I’ve sprinkled in extra details, hidden gems, and juicy insights that I think you’ll absolutely love. Think of it as the director’s cut of this fic! While you’re diving into this revamped chapter, know that I’m also hard at work crafting brand-new, never-before-seen chapters (exciting, right?!). These will hit your screens on either Saturdays or Sundays—so mark your calendars and keep an eye out! ⏳ A little extra fun: I’d love to hear your thoughts! What do you think is going to happen between Thorin and Geira? 🤔 Do you have any spicy theories or suspicions about where the story is headed? Drop your predictions—I’m dying to know! 🔮 Thank you so much for your incredible support—it means the world to me. If you enjoyed this chapter, consider leaving a review or reblogging it on Tumblr. Seriously, every little bit helps this story grow! 💖 Now, let’s jump back into the action and explore all the new twists and turns. Enjoy! Huge thank you to @lathalea to being my beta reader and tell me when I am messing up! <3 Mashkil: Dirt 'Angûna: Filth

Summary: When Smaug arrived, he not only killed the dwarves of Erebor, but he also destroyed the lives of the few who survived… whether he did it on purpose or not.After a hundred years, a part of Thorin’s past will come back to haunt him in the form of a dwarf who last knocks on the door of Bilbo Baggins’ house, resurrecting old grudges and the pain of a life no one wants to talk about. Geira, daughter of Geiri, is anything but an open book, an exiled who no one wants around, a warrior who has no one to fight for, but only an oath she must fulfil.

Relationships: Thorin x FemaleOC Rating: M Warnings: none. AO3 LINK: HERE

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“What is she doing here?” roared Thorin Oakenshield, pointing an accusatory finger at the newcomer, who had just set her wooden bow down in a corner and removed her heavy black travelling cloak.

She felt the king's gaze burn into her like fire but avoided looking at him, even as he stepped closer, like an animal poised to attack. Instead, she raised her eyes towards the tall figure of the wizard, who smiled at her faintly from the corner of his mouth.

“My dear Geira, allow me to introduce our host, Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf announced in a composed tone, ignoring, like her, the dwarven king’s question.

With small steps, Gandalf moved to one side, gesturing towards the small hobbit standing in the centre of the hallway.

“Good evening.” The hobbit tilted his head slightly to get a better look at her.

She guessed that he probably didn’t like being surrounded by so many intruders. Now that another one had arrived, he was likely in complete panic. She understood, as she could imagine how bewildering the scene must be for him.

For a brief moment, she felt sincere sympathy for him. But she herself was not in the best of moods, and maintaining that façade of indifference was becoming increasingly difficult.

Maintaining her composure, she offered him a small smile, inclined her head slightly, and touched her chest while clutching the edge of her red tunic. “Geira, daughter of Geiri, at your service,” she introduced herself.

“Traitor to her people!” Dwalin added scornfully, shouting at the top of his lungs.

She tried to ignore the dwarf’s words and continued smiling faintly at the hobbit before her. But then another voice, one she could never forget even in a thousand years, spoke.

“What are you doing here, filthy mashkil ?” Thorin growled, his voice reverberating through the house.

Her resolve to stay calm shattered like a crystal glass thrown to the ground.

Geira lifted her eyes, finally meeting Thorin’s. His icy blue gaze bore into hers, cold as a winter’s night during a snowstorm. Yet what she felt was... nothing.

She felt nothing. Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

“No one asked for you to speak, King Under the Mountain,” she spat.

The moment she finished speaking, several elderly dwarves around the table erupted with exclamations. In an instant, some of them stood up, shouting at her.

One dwarf in particular kicked over his stool and slammed his two iron fists onto the wooden table, making it groan under the force.

“Filthy traitor, say that again!” Dwalin roared. “I dare you to say it again!”

Her eyes were drawn to the muscles of his arms, rippling with anger, and to the scars on his forearms, which seemed to take on a life of their own. She needed to extract herself from the situation—for the sake of the promise she had made to herself.

“Sit down, Dwalin...” Geira murmured.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do, angûna . Just breathing your air disgusts me. You should die for daring to show your face here!”

“This is not dwarven territory...”

“As long as I am under this roof, everything around me is dwarven territory!”

At this, however, Geira couldn’t suppress a sneer. “It’s ironic that you’re so preoccupied with noticing and acknowledging my presence instead of thinking about how to reclaim your territory,” she shot back, staring him down.

The dwarf roared, stepping away from the table with a swift movement.

“One word from you, Thorin, and I’ll make her regret it bitterly! Damned traitor!” he bellowed, consumed by rage.

Geira turned her gaze to the Dwarven king, who remained standing. She locked eyes with him, waiting silently for his response to the warrior dwarf’s demand. And she got it.

The frown on Thorin’s brow deepened, but his gaze remained cold—icy and terrifying, like the last look he had given her long ago.

Thorin opened his mouth to issue a command, but both were interrupted by the most unexpected voice, which, to her surprise, came to her defence.

“Excuse me, but I don’t believe that’s the proper way to speak to a lady.” All eyes turned to the side of the corridor—to Bilbo.

The hobbit stammered under their scrutiny, adjusting his stance with his feet planted together.

“Although, I mean... If she’s what you’re saying... or what you think you’re saying,” he added, glancing at Thorin. “But not in my home. No, sir!” He tugged on the straps of his trousers, more out of irritation than anything else.

Geira released her grip on the sword hilt at her side, startled by the hobbit’s boldness towards Thorin. That small gesture of courage piqued her interest, a rarity for her these days.

She noticed Gandalf’s amused glance at the hobbit, who rocked on his heels, likely expecting Dwalin and Thorin to return to their seats—but they didn’t.

Instead, the clatter of dishes and a few chuckles from the adjoining sitting room broke the icy silence that had descended upon them, dispelling the tension that had thickened like frost.

“Uh-oh! Someone’s angered Master Dwalin! Take this pint, brother, and tread carefully.”

“Watch it yourself, you’re the one stepping on my foot, Kili!”

“Well, then move over! We’re missing all the fun because of you!”

The entire room quickly turned towards the source of the noise—all except for one dwarf: Thorin, who kept his eyes fixed on the dwarf woman without a moment’s distraction.

Before Geira could wonder what was happening, two young dwarves appeared from the kitchen, each carrying two pints. One had hair as golden as molten gold, and the other sported dark and curly locks that were painfully familiar.

Geira held her breath for a few seconds.

“Oh, shut it, Fili! You’re always in the way. If you’d just step aside, I might figure out why they’ve all stopped shouting too,” said the younger dwarf, lifting the pints to take a seat.

“Surely Uncle has finished,” the other replied, mimicking his brother’s movements. “Or the other... burg... lady... has arrived…”

The blonde dwarf didn’t finish his sentence as his blue eyes landed on Geira.

His jaw dropped, causing the twin braids of his moustache to sway.

The hazel-haired dwarf tilted his head to the side as he observed his brother in confusion, slowly lowering himself into a seat.

“What’s a burg... lady?”

Finally, his gaze also fell upon her. But unlike his brother’s stunned expression, his open mouth soon curved into a warm smile.

“SO YOU’RE THE NEW MEMBER! WELCOME!” he shouted, throwing his arms in the air, pints still in hand.

Geira said nothing, remaining impassive, all while feeling the other brother’s gaze still upon her.

“WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? SIT DOWN! I EVEN HAVE AN EXTRA PINT FOR YOU IF YOU WANT IT!”

“Kili...” Thorin growled a warning.

“Why were you all shouting like that? And why are you still standing? We were about to explain to Mister Baggins how...”

“Kili,” the elder of the two brothers interrupted, motioning with a glance towards Geira’s sword hilt.

Geira noticed Fili’s eyes and quickly covered the visible seal on the pommel of her sword with her hand. Yet his blue eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re a...”

“Fili, Kili, silence!” Thorin stopped them, but Kili persisted, seemingly unaware that they were only making matters worse.

“Oh, come on, Uncle, it’s wonderful! It will be all...”

“Silence, I said!” Thorin’s roar shook the room, his fist slamming against the table.

Both brothers froze, mouths agape, stunned by their uncle’s sudden outburst. Yet they obeyed, remaining silent as instructed, although their eyes cast accusatory glances of the room. They instinctively knew something wasn’t right.

Geira’s hand slipped away from her sword hilt, her fingers falling as if pulled by an invisible force. Though she avoided meeting the two brothers’ gazes, she felt the weight of their silent scrutiny. They sat back down quietly, their eyes fixed on her.

The dwarven king, however, narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening as he shifted his focus back to Gandalf.

A heavy silence once again filled the room, laden with unspoken words.

“I want her gone,” Thorin declared emotionlessly.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Gandalf replied calmly as he returned to his seat.

“I won’t allow her to stay here. I won’t permit her to remain near my company and endanger it simply with her presence,” Thorin growled lowly. “I don’t trust her, and I don’t trust anything she says!” he snapped, refusing to look at her.

Geira clenched her fists, struggling to remain calm, though it was becoming increasingly difficult.

How dare he speak of trust? Him, of all people—he who had betrayed her.

How dare he!

She gritted her teeth as a blind fury clouded her vision.

“You’ll have to, for I have done what I thought was right, and recalling her from exile is the right choice,” Gandalf interjected.

“The right choice?” Thorin’s voice rose, his piercing blue eyes glinting dangerously. “And how would we know that?”

Gandalf gestured towards Geira, encouraging her to speak with a slight nod of his head. Thirteen heads turned towards her, and even Thorin finally rested his cold gaze upon her.

For a moment, his mere glance made her falter, causing her to choke on the words she had not yet uttered. Yet she had to say them—for herself, for her father, for her 120 years of exile, and for all the pain she had endured because of the cursed dwarf staring at her.

Swallowing her anger, her vision slowly cleared.

“I am here to fulfil my oath,” she said, looking the dwarven king straight in the eyes.

A subtle shiver swept through the room, penetrating to the bones of those present.

A dull thud echoed through the room—the sound of a cup slamming onto the wooden table.

“This is too much!” Dwalin roared, rising to his feet again. “Thorin, just say a word and I’ll take her head off her shoulders, as I should have done years ago!”

Thorin didn’t respond to Dwalin, keeping his attention fixed on her.

“Your oath?” he asked, his tone unnervingly calm.

With a few strides, he closed the distance between them, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. “Your oath holds no value anymore. It was broken long ago. Your words, your oath, are nothing but a heap of cold ash!”

She almost dug her nails into her palm. “An oath is for life. You were there when I swore it.”

Thorin’s jaw clenched again, his breathing unsteady.

“And I was there when you broke it,” he growled lowly. “Right in front of my eyes...”

A pang of pain tore through her chest, memories of that day rushing back to her. She could see his look again, feel the tears streaking her face, feel her heart being torn from her chest. She could see her world burning before her eyes, her life reduced to ashes—and then... exile.

The exile he had condemned her to.

“I have no intention of fulfilling my oath for you , if that’s what concerns you, King Under the Mountain,” she spat.

“I don’t care why you want to keep it. I don’t need you to keep it!” Thorin roared, enraged. “Your words mean nothing to me, a'lâju Mahal !”

His words were followed by the screech of a chair being pushed back.

“Thorin...” Balin whispered, but Thorin was unstoppable, like a raging fire.

“You have no place among us, no honour, no name, no clan! You are nothing! Your oaths were broken the moment you turned your back on us. Your blood is tainted, just like your father’s!”

For Geira, this was the final straw.

She approached him with a few steps, glaring down at him, her words pouring out like an unstoppable torrent.

“Then let Dwalin take my head now, this instant, for I assure you, Thorin, son of Thrain, that I would rather be buried in the ground than keep the words I once swore to your family!” she retorted mercilessly. “If I could, I would take them back one by one!”

“Silence, traitor!” he shouted at her, slamming his fist against the wall beside him.

“ENOUGH!”

Darkness suddenly descended over everyone present, enveloping the room in a dense, almost tangible shadow. Before Geira could respond, a profound silence fell around them, broken only by the power Gandalf had just unleashed.

Gandalf looked down with an intensity that seemed to shrink them, as if the darkness itself sought to break their determination.

Almost. For as sure as the sunrise, dwarves were not easily intimidated—even when the shadow’s power belonged to a wizard.

“You dwarves and your stubbornness! You’ll ruin us all before we even begin our journey! Geira will come with us. If I say her presence is essential, then it is essential! Her reasons do not matter to me, nor should they to any of you!”

“It does matter,” Thorin’s deep voice rose from the silence that had gripped his companions. “You cannot ask us to trust her, Gandalf. What she did is...”

“I know, but I ask you, for the sake of this mission, to set aside old grievances. Otherwise, we won’t get far if you keep quarrelling. When we reach the Lonely Mountain...” Gandalf paused briefly, taking a deep breath. “Geira will accompany us there and help us reclaim it, and then...”

“Then I’ll leave, if that’s what you wish, Thorin Oakenshield,” Geira interrupted, glancing at Thorin’s hand still resting against the wall beside her.

Thorin raised an eyebrow and slowly stepped back, returning to his seat. “That is what I wish for now—that you leave—and that will not change,” he stated, casting a glance at her hair, so short that it revealed her neck, shoulders, and part of her ears.

The same length it had been when he last saw her.

“I don’t want it to change...” she replied, ashamed of those short locks once more after so long.

The cut he had given her.

And with one last disgusted glance from Thorin at her head, the discussion came to an end. Geira bit her tongue, lowering her gaze. After that long exchange, she accepted the chair that the hobbit kindly offered her with a smile. Meanwhile, the company resumed the conversations they had been having before her arrival.

But the grave atmosphere continued to permeate the room, even as everyone’s focus shifted back to the hobbit.

Geira observed him as Gandalf began explaining the mission to him. It seemed suicidal, at best. The hobbit’s brow furrowed with each new detail, each wrinkle reflecting a small, desperate question. He glanced back and forth between Thorin and Gandalf, his wide eyes almost pleading, as though hoping one of them would reveal that it was all just a cruel joke.

It wasn’t hard to imagine the storm of thoughts swirling in his head. She felt an odd kinship with him. She knew the instinct to flee, to turn around, and slip out through the round door, pretending none of it had happened.

But she remained rooted in place, her feet practically sinking into the floorboards.

She had given her word to Gandalf and, more importantly, to herself. This time, she wouldn’t run. Her father’s voice echoed faintly in her memory, reminding her that she was more than the whispered stories people told about her. Enough hiding , she thought, steadying her heart.

It was time to face whatever was thrown at her.

A long scroll, resembling a contract, appeared in Gandalf’s hands, drawing her attention back to the room. She watched as the hobbit examined it, his brow tightening, his shoulders slumping with every line, his fingers twitching faintly. Every word seemed to weigh him down, dragging him deeper into the journey that awaited them.

“Incineration?” he asked incredulously, unfurling the parchment further. “...I’m going to faint...” he whispered.

“Think of a furnace with wings: a flash of light, searing pain, and puff! You’re nothing more than a pile of ash!” quipped Bofur, peering out from the doorway where he sat.

Bilbo lost all colour in his face, becoming alarmingly pale. To Geira, it looked like an alarm bell; she held her breath until he fainted, collapsing onto the green carpet like a sack of potatoes.

So his courage in speaking to Thorin earlier had been a fleeting spark of bravery?

Chaos erupted in that moment. Everyone leapt to their feet, the floorboards creaking under the sudden commotion. Hands reached out, voices shouted over one another, a frenzied attempt to help—but all they managed to do was create more disorder. The room seemed to come alive with confusion.

“Out. All of you. Now,” Gandalf’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. With a wave of his hand, he ushered them outside, sending them stumbling into the open air.

Dwalin and Nori stayed behind, carefully lifting Bilbo with their strong hands and helping him sit upright. They murmured soft, reassuring words to him, though Geira, already heading to the kitchen, barely noticed.

It had been years since she had worked in a proper kitchen, and the delicate dishes felt foreign to her now.

Her fingers brushed the edge of a blue-and-yellow cup, its smooth surface almost startling her. She picked it up carefully. After what felt like an eternity, she finally brought a steaming cup back into the parlour, her hands trembling slightly from the effort.

Bilbo was seated in a deep armchair, his gaze distant and unfocused, his posture rigid. The moment he heard her steps, his eyes darted to her, following her every movement with quiet intensity.

As soon as she approached, his eyes remained fixed on her, watching each of her gestures until she broke the silence, offering him the cup of aromatic tea.

“Your eyes haven’t stopped following me since I stepped through your door, Bilbo Baggins. I get the feeling you have many questions to ask me,” she said, forcing a smile and trying to appear as friendly as possible.

It was so difficult.

“Well, I... uh...” he stammered, unsure how to continue, perhaps embarrassed to have been caught staring.

He watched her silently as she found a spot near the lit fireplace, leaning her back against its side. “Well, you... you’re like them, aren’t you?”

“A dwarf?”

He nodded, shifting the warm cup between his hands. “But, well, I’d heard that dwarf women... had long...” The hobbit trailed off abruptly, glancing quickly at her hair.

She sighed, deciding to tell him a half-truth.

“I cut them a long time ago,” she explained hurriedly, though she tried not to offend him. “As a sign of... mourning,” she murmured.

It wasn’t the whole truth.

Bilbo’s eyes lingered on her, as though trying to read the story hidden in the dark, tormented depths of her gaze. For a moment, his curiosity took root, growing like a vine left undisturbed for too long. When was the last time anyone had intrigued him like this?

The silence between them grew, filled only by the crackling of the fire, until at last, he spoke, unable to resist.

“May I ask another question?” he ventured, watching her eyes gradually lose themselves in the flames. “Is it true, what they said about you earlier? Those names they called you—are they true?”

“Are you afraid I’ll stab you in your sleep?” she retorted sharply, raising an eyebrow.

Bilbo cursed himself—cursed his Tookish curiosity.

“N-no... no...”

“I am exiled, yes. But a traitor... that...” She hesitated, staring again into the fire that crackled silently before them. “That I am not. Never...” she said softly, her voice trailing off. “I am here for one purpose only: to fulfil a promise I made long ago, too long ago...” she murmured, turning towards him. Grey, curious but respectful eyes met dark, deep, tormented ones.

“All of you have a purpose, a mission in all this. I... I’m just a hobbit. I’m not what you all think I am...”

Geira watched the hobbit’s fingers tighten around the cup, and her gaze clouded momentarily.

They were good questions he was asking. Yet Gandalf believed in him, and the dwarves in the other room trusted him far more than they trusted her, someone of their own kind.

For a moment, he reminded her of a young dwarven lady in a grand, luxurious room in a distant mountain, years and years ago, questioning what she wanted to do with her life.

Slowly, she moved closer to him, kneeling beside his green armchair and resting her hands on the armrest.

“I believe you’ll only find out if you come with us. There’s much more to you than meets the eye, Bilbo. I saw it before, and... even if you can’t see it, it’s there. It always is,” she said gently, surprised at her own words.

Why was she speaking to him like this, in that tone, as though she knew him? As though she cared about his opinion? Perhaps it was because she hadn’t spoken to anyone this way in years.

“The journey would be fraught with danger—both from outside and within the Company. It would require courage, but also a deep fear of the unknown, to achieve what we need to do. Because what awaits us on the other side of the known world could be everything—or nothing. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to come with us.”

“Danger... within the Company?” Bilbo repeated.

Geira was about to respond when the moment was interrupted by approaching footsteps. The wizard entered, his gaze immediately falling on Bilbo as he checked on the hobbit’s condition.

“Excuse me,” Geira murmured, stepping back and preparing to leave, understanding that it might be better to leave the hobbit with the wizard.

She adjusted her cloak, her fingers brushing the fabric as she approached the door. Just as her hand closed around the handle, Bilbo’s voice called after her.

“Thank you, Lady Geira.”

She paused, glancing back over her shoulder with a faint smile. “You may call me Geira,” she replied, her voice soft and unexpectedly warm.

Bilbo’s gaze lingered on her, wide-eyed, before quickly shifting back to the cup in his hands. He gave a small nod, his expression a mixture of surprise and gratitude.

Geira caught the subtle smile that curled at the corners of his lips—hesitant, but present. She returned the gesture with a slight smile of her own. With one final look at the hobbit, she opened the door.

The cool night air brushed her face as she stepped out into the darkness, the gentle rustle of leaves accompanying the soft creak of the door closing behind her.

She needed to calm her nerves, to regain the composure and cold detachment that the evening’s events had so thoroughly shaken. From an inner pocket of her cloak, she retrieved her long white wooden pipe. From another, she pulled out her pipe weed pouch.

Before long, she was peacefully smoking, seated on the bench just outside the door. Each long puff released small clouds that dissipated into the air; she watched them with her eyes until they disappeared, her mind wandering into the labyrinth of her tangled thoughts.

From the moment Gandalf had appeared before her in that human village, she had known this would be anything but a stroll in the woods. She knew how the others would see her, how they would treat her for the entirety of the journey. What she had experienced earlier was merely a taste of it.

She shook her head, taking another long drag from her pipe to clear her thoughts. She was here for a good reason—she had explained it to Bilbo. She just needed to focus on that and nothing else. It didn’t matter if they ignored her, refused to speak to her along the leagues they would travel, or treated her with suspicion and indifference. She would let them. Their stares would have to slide off her like water on stone.

What Gandalf had told her had haunted her for weeks. The possibility of hope—that if she fulfilled her oath, perhaps, if she survived, she could reclaim her name and return... home.

But did she truly want to go home? Why was she still clinging to a broken oath?

“Are we interrupting?”

A young voice pulled her from her thoughts. Turning, she found herself facing not one, but two young dwarves. They were the same two who had tried to persuade Thorin to include her in the group—Fili and Kili, if she recalled correctly. They had recognised what she was and who she was.

Thorin’s nephews.

Two princes.

Removing the pipe from her mouth, a mix of emotions swirled in her chest—the desire to send them away battling against the impulse to ask them to stay.

“That depends on what you want,” she replied cautiously.

Kili sat beside her without waiting for an invitation. Despite sensing Geira’s wary gaze on him, he paid it no mind.

He pulled out his own pipe and, after lighting it, leaned back on the bench, exhaling small clouds of smoke.

“We just wanted to share some tobacco with you, that’s all,” he insisted, offering a brief smile.

“But perhaps I don’t want to share.”

The younger dwarf widened his eyes and looked at her, almost apologetically.

Geira reproached herself—perhaps that wasn’t the right way to proceed. They were her companions now, and she should at least try not to quarrel with them. Yet the situation was proving so complicated, and the blue eyes of the other brother weren’t making it any easier.

“You should, if you don’t want to isolate yourself before we even set off...” Fili interjected.

Even in the moonlight, his piercing blue eyes gleamed—so familiar it hurt.

She forced herself not to let the sting in his words seep into her voice. “I thought I was already an outcast before we set off, Master Dwarf. And forgive me, but I don’t yet officially know your names, which seems unfair given that you already know mine.”

The dark-haired dwarf sitting next to her laughed, throwing his head back. “You’re right, forgive us. But the earlier circumstances didn’t allow for introductions. I’m Kili, and this is my brother Fili. We’re the sons of Vili.”

Sons of Vili, this mean that they were also Dís’s sons.

A pang in her stomach made her grip her pipe tightly, and suddenly her chest felt incredibly heavy.

The sons of Dís, Princess Dís.

How many years had passed? Had it truly been so long? Had time around her slowed so much that she didn’t even know how many years she had lived this life?

They had been children, but they were older now—older than she had been when everything had changed.

Geira remained silent, trying to calm her racing heart after the revelation. She took another puff of smoke only to realise she was out of tobacco. She cursed silently, cleaned her pipe, and placed it back in her pocket.

Wrapping her cloak more tightly around herself, she braced against a gust of wind that cut through her heavy travelling clothes.

“You’re not very talkative, are you? Yet you spoke to the hobbit. I heard you!” Kili teased, sitting far too close.

“You’re talkative enough for the both of us, young prince,” she replied.

His eyes widened for a moment before narrowing suspiciously.

Geira explained herself before the situation could escalate. “You called Thorin ‘uncle’ earlier. I don’t possess magical powers, if that’s what you fear.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking. But I am surprised you called me young. You don’t seem as old as Balin, or Dori, or Master Óin...”

This time, it was Geira who smiled. She barely lifted the corner of her lips, but it was enough for Kili—even if he didn’t know it.

“Appearances can be deceiving. To me, you are certainly quite young—mere boys.”

“How old...”

His brother Fili interrupted him sharply, his glacial eyes again fixating on Geira’s sword, just as they had before.“The sword. Where did you..?” “Lads, come back inside, please. The hobbit has decided,” Balin’s voice interrupted Fili’s question as he appeared in the doorway.

This allowed Geira to avoid answering a rather uncomfortable query.

The old dwarf cast her a brief but penetrating glance before retreating indoors with the two brothers, not bothering to check if she followed. Geira chose to remain outside a little longer, alone.

Balin left Bag End’s door slightly ajar, and from the ensuing murmurs and heavy sighs, Geira deduced that Bilbo had refused to join them on their quest.

A part of her felt a deep sadness and regret. She had resigned herself to embarking on this journey with dwarves who despised her, but the burden seemed less heavy knowing that a face less hostile than the others would have been at her side.

She let out a deep sigh, straining to catch snippets of arguments, angry exclamations, or stubborn remonstrances from inside, but her ears were met with an unsettling silence.

Then, softly, a melody hummed through the quiet; Thorin’s voice, deep and warm, filled the air like an intoxicating scent.

Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old, We must away, ere break of day, To find our long-forgotten gold.

Geira froze as the melody swelled. The words were different from what she remembered, but the song struck her deeply.

A powerful grip seemed to seize her chest, as though an invisible hand had wrapped around her heart. The words carried a bitter flavour, nostalgia for something lost long ago—a longing for home, for family.

Soon, Thorin was no longer the only one singing; the others joined in.

The pines were roaring on the height, The winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread, The trees like torches blazed with light.

The song ended, but the sorrow lingered.

Geira quickly retreated further into the shadows of the night, her old and familiar companion, to hide the sadness gripping her chest.

She blinked rapidly to stop the tears from falling and took a deep breath, forcing herself to listen as Thorin gave instructions for the next morning’s departure.

“Get as much rest as possible. Gandalf will guide us to our lodgings...”

The room stirred with movement, signs that everyone was gathering their belongings. Not wanting to be seen in such a pitiful state, Geira decided to wait outside. Perhaps, under the cover of darkness, no one would notice her.

As she expected, the others emerged, their faces grim. They cast her fleeting glances before disappearing down a path leading to a small inn. Once the last of them—Ori—had vanished from view, Geira entered the hobbit’s home, looking for her bow. She found it where she had left it, leaning against the small kitchen wall. She cast a quick glance around, noting how clean and orderly everything was once again, as though nothing had happened.

It was a beautiful home, one that belonged to someone who loved their life and wouldn’t change it for all the gold in the world.

Securing her bow across her back, she picked up her quiver and slung it over her shoulder. She moved briskly through the hallway but stopped when her eyes fell on the long contract Thorin had signed, countersigned by Balin, resting on a stool in front of the chair.

Bilbo’s signature was missing—untouched, blank.

She sighed again, brushing her fingers lightly across the parchment.

When Bilbo had thanked her, had he already decided in his heart not to take part? Running a hand through her short hair, she touched each lock from her forehead to her nape.

“You’ll see. He’ll come,” Gandalf’s voice echoed as he approached, his hands clasped behind his back and his usual sardonic smile playing on his lips. He regarded her for a long moment, those piercing blue eyes seeming to delve into her very soul.

Geira, deep down, feared them.

“The contract will be signed very soon,” he insisted.

“You’re so sure? That young hobbit wasn’t convinced. I’ve seen that look far too often—in young soldiers, recruits, even captains of the guard.”

“Oh, I have hope! But, as usual, my hopes tend to be correct!”

“Like the hope that I would come?” she retorted sharply, raising her gaze to meet his.

Gandalf took a deep breath, tilting his head slightly to avoid hitting the ceiling. “That is the uncertainty that, whether you believe me or not, has tormented me for weeks,” he explained softly. “I won’t hide that I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“I didn’t want to,” Geira admitted. “I waited in Aldburg as long as I could,” she added, smoothing her travelling bag with a swipe of her hand.

The wizard nodded before speaking again. “I understand. What changed your mind?”

At that unexpected question, Geira stiffened. She had spent weeks in a small inn room in the village of Aldburg in Rohan, mulling over the wizard’s proposal. Until a fortnight ago, she had been more than certain that she would not participate in the expedition.

Why should she? Why should she believe what Gandalf had told her outside that inn? She had known nothing of what lay ahead, yet the future he had painted for her had been too much even for a hardened soul like hers.

He could revoke your exile, Geira. You could return home, fulfil your oath, and be free. Isn’t that what you want? To be free again?

“ I don’t want to die like this—in the filth of a human village, with an invisible chain wrapped around my chest... I don’t want to be bound to him any longer,” she replied hastily, reciting the words as though they were a well-rehearsed chant.

“And it’s not about him?”

She raised her eyes to Gandalf. “Would you ask that of a victim at the executioner’s block? Or the wife of a soldier killed in battle?”

“That depends on how much the victim cared for the executioner—and vice versa,” he answered quietly.

For Geira, it felt like a punch to the chest. A surge of frustration and anger overwhelmed her, and she fought the urge to shout, to release the fury she had held inside all evening.

She trembled, furious, and finally asked the question that had been gnawing at her for months.

“Why did you want me to come? You have warriors, smart and capable dwarves. Why did you come to me? And don’t tell me it was for me !” she nearly growled.

As he had done throughout the evening, Gandalf remained silent for several seconds. He didn’t show anger or displeasure, but the way he looked at her made the world around her feel cold and heavy. For a moment, she felt the same.

“Because you must fulfil your oath,” he finally said.

"I never intended to honour it! That oath was broken long ago, just like the one he made to me! You know i just want to get this thing away from me and the only way to do it is to cut any connection with him. Stop lying to me!" she insisted, pleading with her eyes.

She was owed an answer, a simple answer, nothing more. She just wanted to know why Gandalf wanted her to suffer, why he wanted her so badly in that Company, why he cared so much that he forced Thorin to accept her as a member of his Company.

Gandalf sighed gently, smiling sadly at the corner of his mouth. "I didn’t do it for you, I did it for the executioner, the warrior, the king..."

Geira unexpectedly smiled, a sad smile, without the slightest hint of joy on her face. "You know Gandalf, now I understand why you lied to me, because if those had been the true reasons, you know, I’m sure I would have rejected your invitation."

And without saying another word, she turned and exited through the rounded green door.

She left the hobbit’s house behind, following the same path the others had taken, passing more green mounds— the hobbits' homes— and finally stopping at the inn where the entire company was already lodging, though still awake. And she knew that tonight, like many others, she would find no rest.

Was she really doing this just for herself? Yes, that was the answer, because if it had been otherwise, she would rather have died at his hands than relive all this. To feel it again. To be betrayed again.

—————-

"I told you coming here would be a waste of time!"

"Hiring a hobbit, where did he get such an idea?!"

"I didn’t think such a small body could possess so much..."

"Stubbornness, Oin?"

"Well, why would he help us if he doesn’t even know us?" Bofur observed, relighting his pipe with a flint and sitting more comfortably on the windowsill."Gandalf promised us the hobbit would come with us; an’ if he said so, we must trust him."

"How about a bet then? Come on, Nori! What do ya say?"

A long conversation began, involving everyone, and bets were placed on whether Bilbo would arrive by the next morning.

The hustle and bustle filling the small inn room, where they were to sleep, allowed two dwarves to slip into the corridor, out of sight and earshot.

"What do you think, lad?" Balin asked, smoothing his long white beard.

The other dwarf sighed wearily, the inevitable frown between his brows speaking louder than words; even after removing his heavy cloak to reveal the long blue tunic covering his trousers, his figure was imposing and commanded awe and respect.

No matter how hard Balin tried, he still struggled to believe that this dwarf, once a child, then a young man, would become king so soon, facing two great battles that had taken everything from him and with which he had to reckon every day, every night.

The old dwarf knew with certainty: even in his dreams, Thorin Oakenshield had never been free, safe from resentment and regret.

"I think this mission began under the worst of omens: I wonder if..." Thorin paused, not quite sure how to continue.

"If we should continuewith the quest?"

The king nodded, but his gaze was far from convinced, lost in thoughts unknown to most, but perceptible to Balin; or, at least, for most of the time. But, for safety's sake, he decided to approach the subject calmly, one step at a time.

"Don’t trouble yourself about the hobbit: if you hadn’t given me a sign and brought me here, I would have placed a bet in his favour, you know?" he gave a half-smile.

Thorin made a dismissive sound, somewhere between scepticism and despair.

"Dwalin was right: coming here was a waste of time. It was madness to believe in his help; but even without him, we must go on. No, it’s not his presence that concerns me... no... not him."

There it was, the exposed nerve, the sore point. Just as Balin had imagined: it wasn’t the thought of the failed thief that troubled him.

"Thorin..." Balin began, placing a hand on Thorin’s forearm. But as soon as he did, the muscles beneath the shirt tensed, and the old dwarf was stopped by a raised hand and a fierce look.

"No, Balin. I don’t want to talk about it," came his abrupt reply; and no matter how much the older dwarf insisted, he would not be listened to. The pride of his king was stronger than reason, which struggled to prevail: if he had even tried to think, Thorin would have understood; but stubbornness and rage blinded him.

Balin sighed deeply and shook his head, but in his heart, he hoped this journey would bring victories beyond the dwarves' lost pride.

———————-

Dawn came too soon, and the continuous yawns surprised Geira as she splashed her face with cold water and then fastened her sword to her side, but first, she drew it from its scabbard, inspecting the blade for new scratches. The daylight broke across it, sending blinding glimmers along the walls: her hand caressed the finely crafted hilt.

That sword was her past, her present, perhaps her future. Everything she still possessed was that sword, all that tied her to who she had been was that sword.

She had allowed the two princes to know who she was and what she had been.

She had managed to avoid their questions, but she was sure, having seen the two princes, they would ask Balin, Dwalin... or Thorin for confirmation. And what would they hear?

She returned the sword to its place and stopped losing herself in pointless thoughts; she took one last quick look around the room, tracing the outlines of the simple wooden bed, the chest against the wall, and the windowsill, where a vase of fragrant lilac and yellow flowers stood: perfect, she hadn’t forgotten anything.

She adjusted her travel pack on her shoulder and closed the door, descending to the ground floor; she nodded to the innkeeper and handed him a coin, then stepped out into the warm morning air. Outside, a riot of colours and scents overwhelmed her, leaving her stunned: everything was so wonderfully green, and as the previous evening, she wondered what life could be like there.

"Good morning!"

Kili’s sunny, mischievous smile interrupted her thoughts, just as it had the evening before. He was standing in front of her, chewing a piece of dried meat with his usual nonchalance, while Fili joined him at his side, wearing the same roguish grin.

"Come on, we’ll show you your pony."

"My pony?" she asked, incredulous.

With a nod, Fili invited her to follow them, or rather, to follow his younger brother, who had already begun walking with his hands crossed behind his neck. They took her to the back of the inn, where three animals stood in a large pen. Kili opened the wooden gate and pointed to the pony, a female with an entirely white coat, calm and gentle: Geira approached her, gently stroking her; the pony neighed, appreciating the gesture and making her new mistress smile.

Yes, she liked her, she admitted: she would be a good travelling companion.

"Thank you, lads," she said, offering a grateful smile to the two brothers.

They lowered their heads in response, still focusing on the straps of their bags before leading their horses outside, where the others waited in silence.

Geira followed them without receiving a single greeting from the other members of the company: only a deep and penetrating silence that reminded her of everything they thought of her.

Even her smile slipped from her lips like a shadow chased away by the light.

Silently, she mounted her pony, preparing for the long road ahead. When they were all ready, Thorin looked at each of them, including Gandalf and Geira, with a solemn and distant look, as though he was searching for an ancient strength or perhaps a hint of fear in their faces.

He did not say a word; there was no need. Each of them knew the task that awaited them, the risks and dangers that accompanied it. Yet, nothing would dissuade them: their hearts belonged to Erebor, their promised land, and nothing would deter or stop them from claiming what was theirs.

Thorin led his mount along the paths of Hobbiton, and the others followed in silence. Geira did not look back, keeping her gaze forward while her heart balanced between the weight of memories and an unexpected relief.

They left the town and entered a clearing bordered by ancient trees, whose branches bent under the weight of past ages.

"Wait!"

A familiar voice stopped them, and Geira turned in the saddle, almost incredulous.

Bilbo Baggins, the little hobbit, was now to their left, panting after the long run that brought him there. With an awkward smile, he handed the contract to Balin, claiming his decision with the pride of one who has crossed a threshold. When the old dwarf confirmed the signature, Geira smiled at Bilbo warmly and sincerely, a look that erased any doubt from the hobbit’s face.

#thorin oakenshield #richard armitage #the hobbit #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin x y/n #thorin #middle earth #middle earth fic

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ordinaryschmuck · 9 days ago

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Let's try something a little differently tonight.

Ten good things that happened this year:

Started Full Family AU and got some fun writing it.

Gave up trying to read every Marvel comic ever made. That is...an unrealistic goal. I see that now. From now on, it's just reading whatever I want for however long I can.

Got more into The Amazing Digital Circus. The Pilot wasn't bad, but it didn't really suck me in like it did everyone else. The next three episodes we got this year, however, has steadily made the show sky rocket into one of my latest obsessions that I look forward to seeing continue day after day.

Consumed a lot of good superhero media. X-Men 97, Deadpool & Wolverine, the rest of Invincible Season 2, The Penguin and even something like Agatha All Along managed to surprise me with how good it was. None of the highs reached the same as last years, but for the first time in a while I'm more hopeful for the MCU again and looking forward to what DC can bring next. I'm also got really into the new Ultimate universe. The Ultimates and Ultimate Spider-Man are the definite highlights of the year, taking the characters we know and revamping them into newer, more mature stories. Ultimate Black Panther and Ultimate X-Men doesn't strike me as strongly as the others, but I still look forward to see what happens next as both are gearing up for a bigger, darker story.

I gained much more of a hefty collection of Marvel Legends figures that are cool to have all at once.

I'm almost finished with my final review of The Owl House. It was nice looking over every aspect of the show possible.

Started this thing where I'll occasionally have randomized marathons of some of my favorite shows. Really helps give the brain the mental reset it often needs.

Finally got some Therapy that made me feel a better sense of understanding about myself. But given what's going to happen in 2025 and the lows I've been experiencing as this year ticks closer to an end, I think it's safe to say that I'll need to talk to someone again, real soon. And I'm glad to think about doing that again.

Stopped following some people on Twitter and Tumblr, for the sole reason that they either have needlessly cynical opinions about media I consume or because they're just overly angry at everything. Sometimes it's justified but other times it's clear that they either read way too much into one thing or are quick to judge something or someone because they made up their mind before a counterargument can be made. That type of toxicity isn't good to listen to, even if there was SOME content I liked to follow. It's not worth it anymore and I'm proud to give that up.

Got a Lego Dinosaur for my birthday. His name is now Chompers, and I love him.

And, to keep mixing things up...

Ten good improvements I've made to myself:

I'm getting better at ignoring others instead of starting shit or sticking my nose into something it doesn't belong.

I'm accepting that there isn't anything wrong with me liking certain media that some people might call TRASH. I like what I like, and it's okay to admit that.

I'm starting to realize that my diet...isn't healthy, and I'm at least willing to admit that and WANT to make some changes. Committing to that is difficult, chocolate's AMAZING, but I'm okay to improve myself. That says something.

I finally gave up Twitter more and moved over to Bluesky. It's good for me and I can share whatever opinion I want without some fucker calling me out. Or ANYONE out. It's a site to make your peace and share whatever you want without inviting arguments. I wish it had something similar to Twitter's trending feature, but I'm fine with what it is and it's better for me.

I'm getting better at talking to people and getting better at keeping my rage down. I'm not completely rage free, but is anyone ever?

I'm getting better at letting myself relax. Sometimes, a day's just draining and I need time to let myself rest. There's nothing wrong with that.

I'm getting better at realizing my flaws and managing them.

I'm becoming more okay again with respecting people using other means to watch content. I was VERY not okay with it because doing so hurts good shows from continuing to exist, but given how studios and networks are doing their damnedest to erase every good show they've made because they want to make room for reality TV and AI slop, I feel like it's best to describe "special means" as a sense of media preservation. Take it from a guy who spent a good part of his year watching the original episodes of his favorite Sci-Fi series. It's never a good thing to have parts of things you love get erased forever, no matter the quality of it.

I'm gaining a better media consuming pallet. Can't watch children's cartoons and superhero movies forever. Now, I'm watching ADULT cartoons and a few more challenging stuff. Not always, but I still make time to watch something better for my maturing brain.

I'm getting better at realizing that I'm not...young anymore. I'm not a teenager, I'm not a child. I'm an adult in his mid-twenties. It's time to start acting better and more mature instead of the same child who wasn't that great dealing with in the first place. I'm getting better at that, and I'll hopefully gain a better understanding of it in the new year.

That's the good things of the year. Good things about me, and good things that I went through. Not a lot has happened, but it doesn't need to. I can let the big things occur next year. Just...hoping a certain someone doesn't ruin it.

#good things

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hippielittlemetalhead · 3 months ago

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The King Is Dead (Long Live The King): My Kingdom For A Kiss

Long Live The King Prelude (In The Beginning)

For those of y'all who have been liking and reblogging my OLD Punk!Steve AU stuff: Thank you so much?! I am so glad people still like it but I will admit that version, that timeline is abandoned, we're restarting, rebranding that AU, rewriting and revamping. I hope you like this new (I consider improved) version even better and I can't wait to continue creating this world with all of you!

Sometimes Steve actually appreciated the fact that his parents were never home. Times like when he shrugs off invitations to house parties, garage hang-outs or lakeside bonfires to celebrate the end of the first week of the new school year as he walks down the front steps of the school and instead hops into the brand new Beemer his folks had delivered to the house the day before school started and heads out to the edge of Hawkins.

He's got a duffel bag in his trunk with a map of Indianapolis with the route he needs to go drawn over in highliter and a wad of cash from his savings he's accumulated from the last few years of the larger allowance his parents had been giving him to take care of himself and the house. There's an address book in the inner pocket of his denim jacket (after the first few days of school his leather one was just too hot to wear regularly. He doesn't know how Munson does it.) with the names and contact information Val and Bo had given him on a couple sheets of notebook paper back in New York carefully copied down in his neatest handwriting. He had called most of the numbers he'd been given. There were a few he'd avoided because he either wasn't ready for what the name attached to it represented or the guys had left little notes next to them telling him in no uncertain terms to only call those numbers if he was in some shit and needed help.

One he hadn't called because he wanted to talk to them in person.

Benny's is a staple of Hawkins, older than the movie theater and music store and even the library. It used to be called Hawkins' Diner, owned by and named for the founding family of Hawkins itself, before Benny Hammond got his hands on it. He'd inherited it from his father, along with a few other businesses that he'd immediately sold and used the money to completely renovate the diner. Steve used to spend his weekends camping out at the diner's bar counter or getting underfoot 'helping' in the kitchen with his younger cousin Beary. That ended when his mom and aunt (Benny's sisters) had their latest falling out before Steve's freshman year. Lenora Harrington and Matilda Emerson had always been complete opposites of each other and their younger brother was more than done with their childhood feud.

So weekends with Uncle Benny and Cousin Beary ended but Steve still tried to have at least one meal at the diner each week. Usually more when his parents were out of town. The last time Steve had seen his Uncle Benny was a week before his trip with his parents. Uncle Benny had sent his old highschool buddy (James 'Call me Hop' Hopper) who is apparently the new chief of Hawkins' police force to check on him after not seeing him in almost a month. Steve had made his way down to his uncle's diner just to yell at the man. He said things he'd regretted as soon as he got home but then his parents were swanning through the front door, listing all of the -acceptable- social events he was required to attend with them before leaving Hawkins. Then they were in New York for months. He hadn't even called his uncle when they landed in the city or when he made it back home.

Benny's is quiet for a Friday afternoon, empty except for a couple of truckers at the bar counter. They both look up when he walks in the door, looking him up and down before seemingly deciding he wasn't anything of interest before turning back down to their food.

"Is that my sunshine boy?" Steve can't help the smile that overcomes his face as a plump gray-haired woman comes out from the back kitchen, spotting him.

"Hey there Miss Medda."

"Oh honey!" She wraps him up in a crushing hug before he can even take a full step towards her. "Where ya been kid? I missed seeing you skulking around the dining room."

"Dreamin' of your homemade cherry pie. But yeah, I was out of state with my folks. Just got back into town for school."

"Uh-huh. Is out of state the reason behind this new hair?" She smiles as he ducks dramatically to avoid the hand she'd raised to tousle said hair. "And what is that jacket? Are you trying to melt out there?"

"Miss Medda I-"

"Medda, where did you go? The coffee has been just sitting there for ten minutes!"

Medda rolls her eyes and smiles at Steve conspiratorially before turning round to face the kitchen with her hands on her hips. "Benjamin Hammond it's not been a minute since that pot finished and you can wait a darn minute before you get your millionth cup o' jitter juice. Heavens know it'd probably do your heart a favor to miss a cup."

The man who comes out from the kitchen, spatula in hand and stained apron folded in half leaving his shirt uncovered, is tall and broad and Steve has to bite back a joke about his hairline being even farther back than the last time he saw him. He stops, staring at Steve still standing by the front door of the diner.

Steve raises one hand, wiggling his fingers in a tentative wave, "Uh, hey there Uncle Benny." He winces when his uncle just raises one bushy eyebrow.

"Steve. What brings you round here?"

"Uh, I was hoping- Hoping we could talk?"

"Figured you did all the talking you wanted last time we saw each other."

Steve winces as Medda hisses out a scolding "Ben Hammond!" At his uncle.

"Yeah, no I- I'm sorry about that." He takes a deep breath, "I was hoping I could talk to you about something? Alone?"

His uncle sighs, one hand coming up to tug at his beard. "Alright kid. Medda, go ahead and close up for a bit after these gents finish up. Take an extra break or something. I'll fetch ya when the kid and I are done talking."

"Sounds good hun. You boys play nice now."

Both uncle and nephew call out, "Yes Miss Medda." As Steve makes his way back into the kitchen after his uncle. They both make their way back through the kitchen to Benny's small office. It used to be the dry pantry before Benny's dad switched the dry pantry with what used to be the larger office space. Steve remembers setting up camp under the desk that took up almost half the space with his little cousin while he tried to practice reading Dr. Seuss and his cousin used their Uncle's menu drafts as coloring paper.

"So," Benny says, leaning against the old oak desk with a tired groan that Steve makes a concerted effort to not make a joke about. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Uncle Benny, I-" And Steve feels his throat closing up and his hands getting clammy. He has his little black address book burning a hole in his pocket that tells him Benny is one of the good ones. One of the best ones. He's safe and supportive and the type of guy other people wish they were related to and had in their corner. So why can't he say it?

His breathes are coming quick and shallow as his uncle steps into his space. One large hand rests on his shoulder and the other reaches back to grip the back of his neck. "Woah there Stevie, deep breaths kiddo. Whatever it is, it's alright. I'm right here and I ain't going anywhere." The hand on the back of his neck squeezes softly and Steve feels his body relaxing into the touch.

"I- I um. You know how my folks and I went to New York?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well, you were right. They didn't really want me there they just wanted to show off to their business friends their shiny show dog and all it's little tricks."

Benny curses under his breath and Steve is pulled into a tight hug. "I am so sorry kid. I wish you hadn't had to deal with that."

Steve sniffs, getting a whif of fry oil and fresh bread and pancakes with the everpresent smell of coffee. "Yeah but I'm glad I went. Made some new friends."

"Friends huh?" And his uncle has pulled back, one hand going up to tug at the bit of hair curled over his forehead before resting back on his shoulder. "That the story behind the new look?"

"A bit. They actually helped me figure some stuff out. Offered to put me in touch with some other friends of theirs in the area."

"This isn't where you tell me you got yourself caught up in some legal trouble is it? Or that you need help getting a young lady to a... certain sort of clinic?"

"Oh God, Uncle Benny no!" Steve can't help but laugh. "They just were good people. Told me were to find others who are... safe."

That makes his uncle stop the pacing he'd started in the small cramped broom closet of an office. "Safe? Safe from what?"

Steve takes a deep breath, "Have Bo and Val called you about Baby, yet?"

Benny completely freezes and Steve can't make himself move either. They both just stand staring at each other a beat longer than Steve is really comfortable with before Benny throws his head back, letting out a belly-roar of a laugh. "Oh, shit kid. They said you'd be an interesting one but my own nephew? Oh those little shits!"

"What, they knew?!"

"Oh knowing them probably figured it out soon as you said your name and that you were from Hawkins." He reaches up to wipe away tears from laughing so hard. "Baby? Really? That was the best you could come up with?"

"Well it was that or Nicks. Like Stevie Nicks."

"Baby Nicks!" And his uncle is off laughing again. Steve pouts at him.

"It's not that funny."

"It's pretty funny kid."

"Well- well you're bald."

"You're a little shit."

"It's a Hammond trait."

"Damn right it is. Now come help me make some more pancakes while you tell me about your time with those two numbnuts."

And they talk. About the places Bo and Val and the others had shown him and the music he'd taken to listening to. He tells Benny about hiding his new wardrobe from his mom even if he knows there's not much she could find fault in about it and about the struggle of finding hair products that let him do his hair the way he wants without falling from the summer humidity. They talk about Val kissing and disappearing from parties with boys and Bo doing the same with boys and with girls. Benny tells him the word is Bisexual. It's not a commonly used word and there are even members of the queer community that might try to tell him it wasn't a real thing but it was just as valid as any other experience of love and attraction if it's what felt right and didn't hurt anyone else.

There's a lot he wants to ask his uncle. So many questions about how he got involved in the world Steve had found himself in and how many others he knew of out there besides the ones in his little black book. There's so many questions Benny laughs and tells him to put an apron on and be useful if he's going to stick around hounding him through the dinner rush. So he does. He hangs his denim jacket up next to Medda's butter yellow cardigan and his uncle's own canvas jacket and grabs one of the extra aprons. Falling in step with Medda and his uncle and the couple of extra hands that clock in while he's doing his best to make himself useful while pestering his uncle is easy. Easier than he thought it would be when his uncle first offered him a summer job at the diner and he'd declined to go across the country with his parents.

Most of the tables he takes orders from are kids his own age who giggle and snicker behind their menus but seem to lose interest when he's obviously unphased. He hears more gossip than he expected there to be after just one week at school but still has his ears perking up as he takes mental notes. It's a few hours into his impromptu shift that he sees the Wheelers and Hollands make their way into the diner. Karen Wheeler is bouncing a baby Holly on her hip while trying to make small talk with Marsha Holland while Aaron and Ted seemed to be dutifully ignoring each other. Baby Holly is on the verge of tears and Nancy's little brother (he thinks she said his name was Mike?) is looking about the crowded diner with a scowl on his little face.

"Hey there, folks!" Steve pastes on his brightest smile as he approaches the waiting party. "Got a whole party goin' on by the looks of it. We all lookin' to sit together or we needing separate tables?"

Karen and Marsha both turn to him with similarly relieved looks on their faces but before they can answer Nancy is stepping forward, her arms wrapped tightly about her middle and looking up at him through her eyelashes in a way that might have been cute if she didn't seem on the edge of being upset. "Steve, what are you doing here?"

He feels his smile drop a little at the bite in her voice but he keeps his voice light as he reaches beneath the hostess stand to grab some crayons and paper. "Just helping my Uncle Benny out some. He and Miss Medda were a bit shorthanded so I aproned up and joined the fray."

"Oh that's sweet of you Steve, helping your uncle out like that." Coos Karen Wheeler as Marsha nods in agreement.

"I forget you're Benny's nephew sometimes," cuts in Marsha. "Family is just so important and it's so good to see y'all keeping the diner in the family like this."

Steve laughs and gives the older women what Tommy calls his 'aw shucks' grin and shrug as Nancy seems to uncoil a bit and Barbara just rolls her eyes. "Well I don't know about all that Mrs. Holland. Uncle Benny isn't going anywhere anytime soon and between you and me, I'm still holding out for another younger cousin. Cousin Beary is too cool to come round these days, I need another baby cousin to think I'm the coolest thing around and help me steal extra cookies from the kitchen." That has even the dads chuckling at him so he takes a moment to check the available seating on the chart and marking where he plans to seat the two families. "Now if you folks will come right this way, we'll get you seated and taken care of right quick."

It's almost too easy, getting both families seated and started on drinks as one of the other waitresses passes by carrying a high chair and asking him to help clear her table. The routine is one he learned by shadowing Medda as a kid when he was convinced he was going to take over Benny's when he grew up and spend his days making pancakes and drinking coffee. That was before his mom and Aunt Matilda had their falling out, before his parents had another miscarriage on the tail-end of another of his dad's affairs and Steve became the only proper hope of continuing the Harrington name.

Steve shakes his head to clear the bitter line of thought that was starting and makes sure he's smiling when he gets to their table. "So what were we thinking tonight? We celebratin' anything or just having a night out?"

Aaron Holland perks up at that. "Oh I don't know if the girls told you they were on the wait-list for Mr. Hauser's class?"

Steve frowns, "Isn't that a Juniors class?"

Marsha Holland nods her head emphatically, "Yes, exactly! But the girl's grades were so good last year they're being allowed to take it this year instead. And not just that. But the advanced course."

He feels himself grin big and bright. He knows he doesn't have the right to but he feels almost proud of Nancy and Holland for this. "No kidding!" He turns to look at a bashful Nancy and a scowling but slightly blushing Barbara, "That's amazing, guys. Hey, when ya'll are ready desert's on me."

Barbara's scowl deepens, "Won't your uncle mind you giving away free food?"

"Nah he wouldn't mind but Miss Medda would string me up by my ears for giving out free food. Don't worry about it, I'll just pay for it from my wages for helping out. Uncle Benny never let me or Beary work for free even if it was a last minute thing. So I'll just take whatever y'all want out of what I'd get paid and everything breaks fairly even."

"Oh no Steve," Nancy turns to him with big earnest blue eyes, "We couldn't ask you to do that with your own money and-"

"Well good thing you're not asking. I'm offering." He grins small and sharp and leans in like he's telling a secret, "Let's call it an apology for the first day of school." Nancy flushes a pretty pink that sits high on her cheeks and brushes across her nose. Her mom and Marsha are eyeing the two of them with amused but worried looks on their faces as Barbara's face is full of just plain suspicion.

"What happened the first day of school?" Little Mike Wheeler bites out, glaring at Steve over his kid's menu and pack of crayons.

Steve had never really dealt with little kids outside of when he himself was one. He tries smiling soft and dopey and unarming, "Bit of a head-on collision in the front hall, Little Wheeler. Your sister was carrying a stack of books bigger than she is and I was trying to figure out just what Munson was yammering about this time and we plumb ran right smack into each other."

The kid still doesn't seem to trust him quite yet but he nods like he accepts Steve's story and goes back to scribbling on his kid's menu. Steve notices that he's not actually playing any of the little games on it but instead writing in the blank spaces.

"Well that's very sweet of you, Steve." Karen Wheeler cuts in, "We'll let you know if we decide to have dessert. So long as you're sure and you won't get into any trouble."

Steve shrugs her off with another small smile and makes his way to the kitchen window with their drinks and starters order. The rest of the evening is a rush as even more people flood in and he's finding himself doing a bit of everything. The Holland-Wheeler party stays long after their food is done and even after they finish the dessert Steve paid for just as promised. They stay until Medda and his uncle are getting ready to switch out with the overnight staff for the diner's weekend overnight hours and shoo him out with the other teens scheduled around curfews. His uncle gives him a pat on the shoulder and a schedule of shifts for the next couple of weeks he's expected to show up for and Steve can't help the grin on his face at the silent message. Medda shoves some leftovers from the lunch rush specials in his arms with a kiss on his cheek as she makes her way out the doors to her own car.

Nancy and Barbara meet him outside while their parents and Nancy's siblings slowly make their way to their respective vehicles. "Thank you again for the dessert, Steve." Nancy almost whispers up at him through her lashes, dainty hands picking at the edge of her cardigan. "You really didn't have to do that."

"Well I know that, but like I said, I wanted to." Nancy blushes with a small giggle and he ignores Barbara's eye-roll. "You guys did something really impressive and that deserves to be celebrated."

"You're not what I expected, Steve Harrington."

"You-" Steve feels his palm going sweaty in his pockets. Images of frizzed curly hair and eerily wide grins flash behind his eyes. But this is Nancy. Not-so-soft, not-so-sweet Nancy that he doesn't think he will ever be able to know nearly enough about. "You're everything Nancy Wheeler."

"Oh pu-lease!" Barbara groans, turning on her heel and walking towards their families as she grumbled about doe-eyed dunderheads.

"Everything huh? High praise coming from 'King Steve' himself."

"Always hated that nickname."

"Ah yes, heavy is head that wears the crown."

"You get it." Another giggle. "Tell me if I'm reading too much into this-" She raises an eyebrow at him as he takes one hand out of his pocket and reaches up to push a strand of hair behind her ear. "But this reluctant king would trade all his kingdom for just one kiss from the fairest maiden in the land."

Her eyes are big and bright and her lips are parted in shock. "What?"

He starts to take a step back. "I'm sorry, I just thought-" and is cut off by a deceptively strong hand grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling him down for a quick kiss that makes his brain short circuit.

"You're an idiot Steve Harrington."

"Absolutely, whatever you say."

"See you Monday?"

"Or tomorrow? My shift ends at noon."

She smiles up at him like she didn't just rewire his entire brain, "See you tomorrow at noon."

Steve nods silently as she pulls away. He can't stop staring after her as she jogs over to her smiling parents and scowling brother. Tomorrow can't come soon enough.

Taglist:

@heartsong18 @knightofthieves @13catastrophic-blues @nightmareglitter @steddie-as-they-go @sani-86 @lawrencebshoggoth

#rambler writes #punk!steve harrington #punk steve au #preppy punk #punk king steve #king steve but make it punk #The King Is Dead (Long Live The King)#TKIDLLTK #stranger things fic #yeah the ramblings of a madperson #stranger things wip #rambler writes fic #not stancy endgame

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cheritzteam · 1 year ago

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[The Ssum] Season 2 <Love from Today> & New Ssumone “June” Update!

Hello, dear lab participant!

Season 2 of <The Ssum>, <Love from Today> update has been completed.

Don't forget to claim the server maintenance reward of 10 Aurora Batteries, available for 3 days! *Claim your reward by: ~ October 21st, 2023 (KST)

[Download the new <The Ssum>] ♥ iOS: https://bit.ly/3oMM81e ♥ Android: https://bit.ly/3poKHTJ

For lab participants wondering what changed with the Season 2 update, we've summarized the highlights of this update below.

Please check it out and use it as a guide for your love research!

< ① Meet “June,” the First Ssumone of Season 2! >

You now have access to the new Ssumone “June” with this update! He's been waiting for you for a long time… 2 years!

Will you join June on his journey out of his little world and into a bigger one? This journey includes an unlimited supply of June's love♡

In version 2.0, you will be able to chat and call June for a total of 30 days, and the rest of his story will be added in future updates.

If you're currently matched with someone else, tap the Profile button on the main screen. Tap the arrow button next to your current match's profile picture to match with someone else.

*Chats with your current match will not be deleted and can be continued when you reconnect. When reconnecting, please note the time of your last chat so that you don't miss any chats/calls. *When you match with a new Ssumone, you will need to change your Ssumone at your wake-up time to ensure that all Day 1 chats can take place.

< ② An even more adorable and cuter UI! >

As part of our Season 2 update, we have revamped some of our UI along with the <The Ssum> logo.

Head on over to the app and check out the new design that reflects all the excitement!

List of UI redesign content:

App Entry Screen

Prologue

Voice Call Screen (Season 2 Ssumones only)

Loading Screen

< ③ Let's talk face to face! >

Have you ever missed your Ssumone and realized that a voice call just doesn't cut it?

Now you can have a face-to-face conversation with your Ssumone via video call!

Don't miss out on all the different facial expressions and small gestures that show your Ssumone's emotions.

*Only some calls will have video; the rest will be regular voice calls. *Video calling is currently only available with June.

< ④ Free roam the Infinite Universe! >

Vanas, Mewry, Tolup….

Teo's and Harry's chats used to have seasonal planets assigned to them.

Starting in Season 2, Ssumones' chats will not be assigned a seasonal planet. Instead, the day's energy attributes will activate the corresponding Seasonal Planet's influence.

This gives you more freedom to explore the Infinite Universe!

You can see which energy day it is by tapping the heart button next to the Day display on the main screen.

List of contents affected by Energy Day:

Chat theme (automatic change can be turned ON/OFF in game settings)

Chance to craft Seasonal Planetary Frequencies when using the Emotion Incubator (increased chance of crafting planetary Frequencies for the season)

Chance to encounter regional creatures when opening a creature box in the Anti-gravity Chamber (increased chance of encountering regional creatures for the season)

Loading Screen UI

*Researchers matched with Teo and Harry will also have free exploration mode enabled starting with Chat Season 9, which will be released in a later update.

< ⑤ PIU-PIU Feature Update! >

We've improved the "I Can See Your Voice" feature that records and delivers conversations that happen around your Ssumone in real-time.

Instead of simply displaying the name of the person doing the talking, we've added a profile picture for each person so you can understand the flow of the conversation more intuitively.

*Please take note: PIU-PIU will omit profile pictures of people it deems are not important!

This feature was added to June's chat as well as Teo and Harry's, so if you were matched with either of the latter, we encourage you to check out their previous chats to see some familiar(?) faces♡

We're also celebrating the Season 2 update with events you won't want to miss!

Check out the details here: (link)

We hope this post was helpful to you with your love research.

If you have any further questions, please contact The Ssum Support Center!

Thank you for your support and interest in <The Ssum: Love from Today>. We will do our best to deliver more exciting content in the future.

Thank you.

-Cheritz-

#TheSsum #TS #Cheritz #OtomeGame

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sluttywonwoo · 2 years ago

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instead of you [part ten] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, mentions of sex (18+ mdni)

word count: 2.6k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

“Just that you’re not technically a chef yet,” Minho explained defensively. “You’re not certified.”

“A chef doesn’t need a piece of paper to call themselves a chef,” Leo countered. “Anyone can be a chef. But don’t tell the WAC I said that.”

“Yeah, Minho haven’t you ever seen Ratatouille?” you teased.

“Great movie,” Leo added. “Jisung, great job on your dough,” he reiterated.

Jisung stuck his tongue out at his brother across the table who rolled his eyes in response as Leo picked up his ball of dough and rolled it in his hands.

“Minho, yours is still a little tough. Keep working on it.”

He nodded and took his dough back to continue kneading it. You noticed his jaw clenched subtly in frustration, but he didn’t say anything else. You watched as he rolled the pasta dough with a little more force, maybe a little too much.

Leo checked yours next and gave you similar feedback to Minho’s, even though Jisung had helped you with yours. You didn’t want to think about what kind of feedback you would have gotten on your own.

Your dough was still flaking apart when you went back to working on it, and you tried desperately to hold it together with little success. Jisung had left your side to help his mom so you were on your own.

At least Minho was also struggling. You felt a little better knowing he was miserable too.

You were starting to sweat with effort, you were so out of shape that even cooking had you catching your breath. You had thought this was going to be fun, but instead you were having flashbacks to high school P.E. class.

Leo made his way down the rest of the table and checked everyone else’s dough before circling back to you and Minho. He took over for Minho and instructed Jisung to finish kneading yours so that he could move on with the lesson. It was embarrassing to be singled out, but Jisung assured you it wasn’t your fault. He wasn’t making much progress with yours either.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with yours,” Jisung whispered to you.

“I probably did it wrong,” you hissed back.

“I watched you do it, you did it the same way as everyone else.”

“Then why is it being like this?”

“Sometimes food has a mind of its own,” Leo interjected, making you realize the entire class had been listening to you and Jisung’s back and forth. “This is good enough, though. We can set it aside with the other balls of dough to let them rest while we make the fillings.”

You and Minho set your sad pasta balls on the counter with the others before moving to the sink to rinse your hands.

“I think they’ll still taste good,” Minho said thoughtfully as he offered the bottle of soap to you and pumped some into your hands.

“I hope so.”

“It’s pasta, it’s almost impossible to fuck it up.”

“Yet somehow we still managed to.”

“Some would say it’s talent,” he said and shrugged.

You bumped his shoulder with your own as you fought over the water stream. You managed to stick your hands in first and Minho put his above yours only for you to shove them away.

“Hey!”

“You’re completely ruining the purpose of washing my hands!”

“I have soap on my hands, you have soap on your hands, what’s the issue?”

“And you’re washing off your germs and they’re going on my hands now!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll wait my turn,” he seceded and let you finish washing your hands before he rinsed off his own.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Making the fillings for the pasta was a much simpler process than making the dough. All you had to do was mix certain ingredients together. It didn’t matter what order you added them, if you whisked fast or slow, the only important thing was that everything made it into the bowl one way or another.

You worked in pairs for this step. Jisung mixed together the pesto filling while you did the parmesan-truffle one.

“This is different than the pesto I make,” he said, looking at the mixture in his bowl.

You frowned. “But I like your pesto.”

“It’ll still be good, baby,” he assured you with a kiss to the forehead. “Don’t worry.”

When the fillings were done it was time to revisit the balls of dough and roll them into pasta. Jisung explained it to you like rolling Play-Doh, but it was far more difficult in your opinion. Play-Doh was nowhere near as stubborn as this. The pasta dough somehow retained tension, and would bounce back every time you tried to stretch it.

Jisung ended up having to help you and Minho because both of you were starting at a disadvantage with your fucked up dough.

“I never want to hear you say I have it easier than you ever again,” Jisung warned as he folded your strands of dough into raviolis.

The class had moved on to the final step, shaping and filling the noodles, but you had already tapped out. Jisung was done with his portion before you had even finished one so he had taken over for you.

“I’m sorry for saying that,” you said, remembering all the times you had teased him for stressing out over his ‘soufflé final’ or ‘crepe labs’. “I would much rather be writing a paper right now.”

He shrugged. “Everyone has their strengths.”

“I’m starting to think that Ratatouille movie was bullshit,” you groaned.

“How ironic,” Minho snorted across from you.

He was really starting to get on your nerves. But you let his comment go, not allowing your temper to get the better of you. He was still Jisung’s family, even if they had a… complicated relationship.

When the class finally settled in the dining room of the restaurant to eat you were sweaty, sore, and exhausted. You could feel your skin sticking to the leather seat, and you felt severely underdressed. Back in the kitchen you hadn’t been so self-conscious. But now you couldn’t stop thinking about your appearance.

The atmosphere was much more sophisticated. The lights were dim, and soft music played in the background. All of the other guests were following an unspoken black-tie dress code while the fifteen of you were still wearing your disposable aprons, only now they were covered in flour and egg yolk.

And to make it worse-

“Smile!”

Nikki held up her phone and motioned for you and Jisung to scoot your chairs closer together. You took a deep breath and complied, leaning your head against your fake boyfriend’s and managing a grin. You really didn’t want this moment to be immortalized, but you didn’t want to be difficult either.

The camera flashed once, then again. Jisung wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled your body against his, pressing a kiss to your cheek for another picture. You scrunched up your face as the flash went off, the tickle of his breath against your skin and the feather-light touch of his lips making you squeeze your eyes shut.

“That’s a good one!” Nikki complimented, even though you were sure it wasn’t as flattering as she was making it out to be.

The pasta was served with a glass of red wine for everyone. Jisung was right, the pesto was different from his, but it was still good. It was no match for his recipe, but the handmade pasta did give it a few bonus points. You were sure you hadn’t gotten any of the noodles you made because all of the ones on your plate were perfect. It didn’t feel fair that you got to enjoy somebody else’s hard work while they got your shitty excuse of a ravioli.

But as the wine dwindled from your glass the negative thoughts began to ebb away too. Your muscles, though still sore, relaxed slightly and you rested your head on Jisung’s shoulder as everyone else finished their meals around you. The conversation carried on without your contribution. Your social battery had died hours ago, but you were content to listen to the Hans chat with other students at the table.

You weren’t a huge fan of wine, but the one served with dinner was palatable, and to be honest you weren’t one to turn down complimentary alcohol anyway. It tasted more expensive than anything you had ever drank, like the equivalent of velvet on your tongue. You finished your glass and the rest of Felix’s.

The next few days in Florence passed in a similar fashion. You ate a lot of carbs, drank a lot of alcohol and let the business of the itinerary overwhelm you. It was getting tiring, living in an act. Trailing along behind the Hans like a dog, worn on Jisung’s arm like an accessory.

You had known what you were getting into, and you were trying your best to enjoy the experiences- because who the fuck knows when you’ll ever get to go on such a nice vacation again, but pretending to be in love with your best friend was a harder feat than you had thought.

It felt like being in a school play. Every move and phrase had to be intentional. You tread the lines of your relationship with rehearsed expertise. And you had to watch what you said, because everyone’s eyes were on you. At least that’s what it felt like.

Jisung’s parents were easy. They fully bought into your lie, seeing what they wanted to. They usually left you to your own devices, too. His brothers were the ones who needed convincing. Not even Felix, though. Minho was the problem. Minho was always the problem.

You were in Rome now, walking back to the hotel from the Colosseum. Jisung had his arm slung around your shoulders and was talking his twin brother’s ear off about the Gladiators and inaccuracies in films about Ancient Rome.

You didn’t think you’d seen him this excited the entire trip. It was cute, the way he talked with his hands and looked off into the distance whenever he was really engaged in something. Felix was also cute. He was trying his best to keep up with Jisung, nodding his head at all the right points, asking questions when there was a pause in conversation.

“Yeah, gladiators fucking unionized,” Jisung explained. “They put their lives on the line all the time, ya know? Might as well get benefits.”

“If I was a gladiator I’d join their union,” you said, adding to the conversation for the first time in a while.

“There were women gladiators too, babe! You totally could’ve been one.”

You laughed. “You remember my season on the intramural dodgeball team? I wouldn’t last a day. But I appreciate the thought, Ji.”

You had dinner in the restaurant attached to the hotel lobby. Nikki passed around her Canon for everyone to look through the pictures from the day while a bottle of limoncello was passed around the table.

You’d scarfed down your pasta and passed on dessert in favor of another shot of limoncello. Rookie mistake.

In the past the sugary drink had always tasted like cough syrup to you, but this batch tasted like straight-up lemonade. You were tipsy, bordering on drunk, but nowhere near blacked. Nikki and Dom turned in around shot three, leaving the tab open for the four of you. Jisung went upstairs next, having gone too hard too fast on the limoncello (he was on shot five when his parents went back to their room).

Then it was just You, Felix, and Minho. You told Jisung you’d join him in a bit after the pianist played a couple more songs. In all honesty, the music reminded you of Jisung. Back at school you could always find Jisung in the music hall if he wasn’t in the culinary building. You’d always hear him playing as soon as you walked through the double doors. You could always tell it was him at the keys by the way the playing sounded. He was self-taught, but still a genius in your mind. He didn’t need any formal training to make beautiful music, and that’s what you loved about it.

When he moved out of the dorms and into an apartment he bought a keyboard, and you’d spend nights together in his room illegally pirating sheet music for him to learn new songs. He’d play whatever you requested, and if he didn’t know how to play it he’d teach himself.

The pianist in the restaurant played with a little more expertise. The notes sounded refined, perfected. Jisung always told you that perfect music was restrained music, that real music had flaws, that a song should sound a little different every time it was played.

After an encore of Beethoven the man at the piano stood from his bench and took a bow, passing his hat around the room to collect tips. Minho dropped a bill into the hat and you did as well, handing it back to the man afterwards. He dumped the contents of the hat into a briefcase and closed the lid of the piano, thanking everyone in the audience for their donations.

“Well, I think I’m going to head up now,” Felix said, yawning for emphasis. “We still have to get up at the ass crack of dawn even though we’ll all probably be hungover.”

“Speak for yourself,” Minho said cockily, then turned to you. “One more shot?”

The bottle of limoncello was almost empty anyway. Might as well finish it off, it’d be a shame to let it go to waste, right?

“Hit me.”

“God, you’re both going to be so fucked tomorrow,” Felix groaned.

“We’ll be fine,” Minho insisted, rolling his eyes at his younger brother.

“Good night, Felix,” you sang, waving at him as he walked off.

“Yeah whatever.”

Minho wasted no time pouring you both a shot of what was left of the limoncello. The restaurant was beginning to clear out so he worked fast, filling the glasses up to the marked line. You both took one and clinked them together before throwing them back.

You winced at the burning sensation in the back of your throat and put the glass back on the table, searching for something to chase the shot with. Your eyes fell to Minho, lingering on his cheeks, his lips, both pink from the alcohol or something else. You flicked your gaze down to his neck, his collarbone that was peeking out from the neckline of his shirt. You thought about how it would feel to kiss him there, to run your tongue over a love bite you’d given him.

You forced your gaze back to his eyes, hoping he hadn’t caught you staring. You had to act uninterested, you couldn’t let on to- but he was staring back. His eyes were intense, and almost impossible to read in the darkness of the room. You knew you should look away, knew you had to keep up appearances, but you couldn’t.

Later you’d blame it on the alcohol, but in that moment you knew the limoncello wasn’t what was making your head spin, or your what was making your vision cloudy.

You were about to leave the table, about to rush to the elevator and back to Jisung but then suddenly Minho was kissing you. He cradled your head in his hand and tilted your chin up to meet his lips. It wasn’t desperate or messy like most drunk kisses were. Instead, it was delicate. You swore you could feel every line of his lips against yours, feel his heartbeat through his hands on your cheek.

It was only for a second, not enough time for you to react or reciprocate and then he was pulling away, eyes wide with panic.

“Please don’t tell Jisung.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

no taglist today bc my laptop is broken but if you’d like to add yourself to the taglist you can do so here!

#instead of you skz #iou skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x female reader #skz x female reader #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #lino x reader #minho x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids series #skz séries #stray kids fic

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