#every time I replay this game I hear a new voice line

[septic-salad]

"See ya 👹"

[yevmarie]

You Own Me

Pairing: Scud x Female Reader

Word count: 2,2k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, terribly written smut, p-in-v sex, creampie (the reader is on pills), sub!Scud, dom!reader, dirty talk, vouyeurism, degradation, praising, pet names, Scud calling reader a mistress, alcohol consuming, mentions of pot smoking, profanity, bad English (not my first language).

It was a late, lonely evening in your apartment. You were tipsy from alcohol that had been consumed before. Sitting on the couch, your head laying on the throw pillows, eyes closed. Some music was humming in the background. You needed to vent, and that was the maximum you could afford.

You secretly wanted some fling with him. That damn stoner was as hot as fuck. And if you hadn't known the details of how he was saved by Blade, you would try something long-term, but no, no, and no. So you were quite cold with him and bitchy. To your surprise, it worked the opposite way for him. 

That had been a stressful working day with Scud, who was flirting the whole day while you were trying to focus on new explosives for Blade’s next mission. It wasn’t so unusual about his flirty and touchy nature. He always tried to fill your space with his presence. Sometimes, he just sits silently in his chair, smoking and observing every move from you. Or traps you between him and a wall when you meet in a corridor. But this time, he almost crossed the line. Scud’s hands were accidentally brushing your butt when he walked by. He was trying to help you with explosives, standing behind you with an obvious boner poking between your ass cheeks. Or saying some pieces of advice in your ear with his sweet and relaxed voice, which sounded dubious. Damn, perv.

So, this teasing game at work today made you lose focus, and that damn lab could have been almost destroyed to the ground, but it ended with a local fire that you both knocked out. It was an understatement how Blade was furious, as it was quite luxurious to lose all the tech and valuable staff. After that incident, Josh was staying flirty, and you just sent him off and went home furious. 

You were almost falling asleep out of stress, tiredness, and the volume of alcohol in your blood system when you got a message from Scud. The display on your phone was showing a voice message. Not a usual behavior from him but still. Is it an apology message? Expecting him to tell some stupid jokes after smoking pot as an apology, you tiredly played it. 

Your eyes widened almost immediately upon hearing him whimpering; there were some squelching sounds in the background. He was whispering in a shaky voice. 

“Ah! Want you so badly. Just bend you over the table and fuck you stupidly till you can’t walk.”

JEESUS! The blood pulsating in your temples was almost hurting, and a sheer layer of sweat appeared on your forehead. Damn, that stupid stoner probably mispressed the recipient. But that didn't stop you from replaying it several times until you found yourself fantasizing and relieving your sexual tension. 

However, it didn’t let you fall asleep until the early morning. Being tired, worn out, and angry, you were preparing for work. You were craving an explanation from him, so you decided to wear the sluttiest outfit you had in your closet just in case your guesses were true that that damn message was addressed to you. Wearing a top with no bra underneath and a mini skirt, you went to work.

You came to the warehouse a bit later than Scud, who was already smoking and welding some parts. He turned around to greet you with a smirk on his face but froze, seeing you in a skimpy look. Tits with no bra evidently bounced under the top every time you made a step. Your legs seemed even longer with the help of the mini. 

“Morning,” he mumbled through the joint between his mouth. You silently sat down on the chair next to him. 

“Wanna get some explanations from you.” You were angry as fuck, but you were doing your best to hide it. “Yesterday evening, I got one interesting message from you…” 

“An interesting message?” He puffed out the smoke, playing dumb. 

“I can explain,” but he was trapped with your foot placed between his legs, applying a slight pressure to his hardness and balls. 

“Shit, no way he doesn’t remember anything; he is playing with me. A stud.” You silently took out your phone from your pocket and played that cursed message. His skin reddened in seconds, his lower lip was trapped between his teeth, his chest was heaving, and a smirk was forming. He shifted in his seat to stand up.

“Son of a bitch, you’ve even got aroused already,” you thought. “Then explain.” 

He gasped, his throat seeking air. He licked his lips, feeling dizzy, and that stupid smirk never left his face. 

“I was just… I smoked a lot, and… I’m really sorry; I barely remember it.” He was acting, clearly enjoying the setting. 

Your foot added some pressure to his arousal, now evidently visible to you. He whimpered, bucked his hips to your foot, and held onto the table so his fingers became white. You tilted your head to the side, your darkened eyes boring into his. 

“You, working almost in oblivion, are telling me now that you smoked too much?” He didn't reply; he just breathed heavily, being dark red. What a whore! You put off your leg and stood up, seeing him doing the same, but you just pushed him down back to the chair. 

“So, will you try to explain again?” 

“Sit down.” You took a plastic cable tie from the table you had laid your eyes on before and walked behind him. You aggressively grabbed his hands behind him and tied them. But surprisingly to you, he obeyed, and it pissed you off even more. “Damn, he literally craves my attention.” You walked back to your chair and sat down. 

He breathed heavier and more rapidly. “Okay, it was on purpose. Just tired of dancing around and stuff. You know what I want from you.” He licked his dry lips, observing you with a hungry look and already undressing you mentally, if not fucking you like an animal. 

“And you won’t get it,” you replied in a cold tone.

“Why?” He pouted playfully and shifted in the seat as if trying to free himself from the plastic tie. 

“I wanna show you how it is to be a tease. Wanna make you beg.” You spread your legs and shifted your underwear aside, letting your fingers glide over your arousal and smearing it over your clit. 

“Holly shit,” his eyes were glued to your movement.

You gasped and rolled your head back, back curved, with the other hand placed on the chair for stability. He licked his lips and bit them down with anticipation. His boner was painfully restrained in his jeans. 

You whispered, playing with yourself, lost in pleasure. “You like the view?” And you inserted two fingers inside your pussy earning a lewd moan from yourself. You heard him breathing rapidly, almost panting. 

“I want you, Y/N. Pleeease.” He was squirming, trying to find any friction in his jeans, but it failed. His cock was painfully trapped and leaking with pre-cum appearing as a wet spot on the fabric. 

“Who told you if you beg, you get what you want?” Your fingers moved back and forth inside you. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered, which made you laugh deviously and move your fingers faster, which made you clench, and you understood you wouldn't last long. 

“Please. Want you to use me. Wanna be your fuck toy. Just let me feel you.” His whining sent a jolt of pleasure. Understanding it was your approaching orgasm, you did the impossible and stopped yourself. You put your fingers out when you saw him opening his mouth, slightly hinting to taste you. You stood up in front of him and shoved your fingers in his mouth, which he started to suck eagerly momentarily. He was moaning while sucking your fingers, whispering in between.

“Mmmph, you taste so good, girl. I want more. I want all of you, please.”

“Think you deserve it?” Despite your cold demeanor, you were enjoying the view, which made you even more aroused. 

“Yes, please. I wanna take all of you. Wanna feel you tight around me. Please, Y/N.” He hummed and sucked your fingers. 

“My needy little slut”

“Yours and only. Just let me dive into your sweet pussy, please. I will do anything for you.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah, anything,” he whimpered needily. “Just fuck me already.”

These words made you clench around nothing, so you put off your fingers, seeing his hungry and desperate gaze, and decided to finally do what you wanted for so long. 

“Hips up!” You commanded, unbuttoning his jeans, and he obeyed with no hesitation. You pulled his jeans and boxers down his thighs, his cock springing free, hard and throbbing. 

“Ah, finally,” he gasped with relief when you suddenly grabbed his jaw in your hand. 

“Finally? How come those little needy brains thought I would fuck you, huh?” Your other hand grabbed his cock, smearing pre-cum over his tip, and started stroking it teasingly slowly. He shivered and exhaled shakily, his mouth agape.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Thought you're gonna show your sympathy towards me.” He let out a whine, his cock twitching. “I’m all yours, Y/N. Just sit on me, ride me, use me.” You started to stroke him faster, seeing his cock almost ready to cum while Scud was squirming, whimpering, and almost crying out of pleasure. And you suddenly stopped hearing a bitter whine from him and whispering, “Please, please, please.”

You pulled up your skirt a bit and stood closer, ready to sit down on his leaking length. You were lowering above his cock, shifting your underwear aside, and finally sank on his tip, letting out a soft gasp. Meanwhile, Scud was babbling yeses and other stuff you didn't pay attention to as you slid down his above-average shaft. When you finally consumed him whole and were adjusting to his size, he whined more. 

“Ohhh, please!”

You felt a sudden wave of hunger and tugged his hair on the back of his head, making him gasp and open his mouth. 

“Shut up, Josh!” You closed the distance between your faces and kissed him aggressively, though passionately, shoving your tongue in his mouth. And you both moaned sweetly, finally getting what you both craved. You started rolling your hips, slowly teasing both of you. Scud whispered between kisses. 

“You feel so good, baby,” and at this moment you knew you were damn lost, tugging his hair more than before and riding him in a fast rhythm. 

Panting, moans, whimpers, groans, skin slapping, and lips smacking were making an obscene symphony filling the space of the warehouse. You rode him furiously as if you were a nymphomaniac chasing your high, enjoying every moment. 

Scud was even more lost in pleasure. Totally fucked out, falling apart, his eyes half closed, his mouth babbling sweet nothings. The image was so beautiful, it almost looked like a piece of art. 

“You are using me so well. Want my cock to belong only to you, mistress. Want you to ride me forever.” You clenched around him involuntarily, earning moans from both of you. 

“Mistress, huh?” You smirked deviously and leaned to his ear, saying in a lower and silent voice. “And you are nothing more than a fuck toy.”

“Fuck!” He panted and rolled his head back, his eyes threatening to close. You grabbed his choker, pulling him closer to your face, and took a handful of his hair again while riding him. 

“Eyes on me!” he ignored as he was in a haze, obviously enjoying every second of the intimacy. “EYES.ON.ME.” You slowed your movements until he opened his eyes, drunk with sex. 

“Fuck!” You whimpered, feeling your pussy clenching as this view made you closer to your approaching orgasm. Just a couple of frictions, and you are done. You whispered, lips inching from his mouth. 

“Wanna cum inside? I’m on pills.” You exhaled deeply and choked on your pleasure, riding yourself slowly through your orgasm, and this was the last straw for him.

“Ah, fuck!” He groaned, moaning, his eyes rolling back, his body jolting. You felt him pulsing inside you, spilling his warmth. Scud’s panting, mixed with cries of satisfaction, echoed in the building. 

After some moments, he tiredly looked at you, and you placed a gentle and slow kiss on his lips, which he eagerly reciprocated. You leaned back after a while and said silently. 

“Hope you liked it.” You smirked a little and took scissors from the table to free his tied hands, earning a tight hug from him and hungry kisses mixed with moans. Then he pulled away a bit to admire your face.

“Me? Liked it?” He chuckled tiredly. “Gonna send you more voice messages from now on.”

“Dork.” You tried to stand up from him but were tugged back to him, earning a gasp from you and a confused look.

“Now your personal dork, mistress. You own me,” he smirked. You smirked too and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, letting yourself get lost in him. 

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part IX)

Summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader

Word count: 2.3k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings for this chapter: some spoilers and references to S4 and Gen V, mentions of sex, mentions of kindaping, so much lying from these fuckers!!

Notes: idk who's still interested on this crap because my original drafts went to hell once S4 dropped (but also my fault i was waiting for that lol), anyway I'll try to be consistent with this is giving me nightmares i swear. thank you if you're still here 😭

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And if it wasn’t much worse, there he was still, lying down on the other side of the mattress, sleeping and snoring like a stray dog you just took in to protect him from the dangers of the night. Who would have thought? But you wanted this. You fell for it eventually. And you didn’t give a single shit about it, not yet. It was great, you had to admit that. In the end, Ben was right, he could fuck pretty good and could bark about that with good reasons.

Part IX: Nobody’s Business

Rolling on your side of the bed, your eyes fluttered open. There was a warmth coming from the mattress, one that you were not used to every time you woke up. That side always came up empty, but then your mind replayed the memories of last night's events. The small and soft light emanating from the window forced you to sit up abruptly, covering your breasts with the bed sheets. The clock told you it was almost 9 a.m.

But duties are duties, you told yourself, sitting down and reaching your phone on the nightstand. There were six missed calls from an unknown number; you were pretty sure who that was. With a scoff, you got on your feet and full in your naked glory, stepped out of the room, just taking your dress from the floor to put it on as best as you could while you heard the line from the other side.

“Oi, I’ve been calling you, answer the damn phone,” the British voice on the other side spit.

You grimaced, pulling the phone away as he yelled at you before speaking. “I had important things last night. Sorry for having a life,” you lied gracefully, making your way to the kitchen to boil some water for a tea. “Besides, since do you care? I barely fucking know you, so tell me what is it before I hung up.”

Butcher sighed from the other side of the line. “I need the kid back.”

“Ryan?”

“Yeah, and I need something for it. I don’t wanna force him, but tough times require even tougher methods…”

There was a silence coming from you, trying to process his words. Soldier Boy wanted the kid, Butcher wanted the kid, and Homelander of course wanted his fucking kid. You didn’t know who was the best for Ryan. Homelander was out of the league immediately, but maybe Butcher was the only sane motherfucker between them to take care of him. After all, he was his dead wife’s son.

“What do you want me to do? You’re not gonna kidnap him, right?” you asked, unsure of what would happen if you agreed to help Butcher on it.

“No, but don’t play innocent. Can imagine you have plenty of analgesics to take down an army, doctor.”

You pictured that fucked up smirk on his face at his words, and followed his game to see if you could get somewhere.

“And what do I get in exchange? I’m not giving anything for free.”

“Novichok. Put him to deep slumber and can test the strongest drug you have on Soldier Boy without getting killed,” he whispered over the phone, as if someone was hearing his words.

“Alright, deal,” you accepted, taking off a cup to pour your tea. “Send me the address and we can meet today. Just don’t mess with me, I don’t have enough arguments to trust you right now.”

“And I can respect that. Should be receiving it soon, darling.”

With those final words, Butcher hung up the call.

Your head felt spinning, as if something had crushed you so bad. Your body hurted, and you were sore. Probably you regretted it. Not because it wasn’t good, it was something else. What had happened between Ben and you wasn’t supposed to be. It just simply couldn’t. He was a killing machine you were just reaping, eventually discarding him when you took what you needed. However, the right time to test the Anti V prototype had yet to come. Sipping from your hot tea, you heard hard steps from the stairs, and for some reason, you were not prepared to face him the morning after.

“Ah, preparing my breakfast already, doll,” Ben said cheerfully, much to your liking, and approaching you as you faced your back to him.

His arms wrapped around your waist, and as much as you wanted to enjoy his touch, you pushed him away and turned on your feet to see his confused grin.

“First of all, good morning. And second, no. You can make yourself a sandwich,” you replied.

A smile appeared on your lips as his own slowly faded away.

“So, nothing for me, even if I made you feel so good with my cock?”

“God, you’re so gross…”

Ben snorted, leaning to give soft kisses on the skin of your neck as he whispered. “I don’t remember you complaining about it last night.”

As an impulse, you shut your eyes. His touch and lips over your sensitive skin were too intoxicated for you to react quickly and stop him. Ben took the cup of tea from your hand, putting it on the countertop; the place he fucked you so good the night before. He would kill to go again, with you beneath him, yearning and crying for his dick. Or maybe he’d fuck you in the couch before taking you to your bed, exactly like he did after you did it in the kitchen…

“Stop,” you said, pushing him away softly.

He did as you asked rapidly, licking his lips, and watching your lustful gaze intently. You wanted it as much as he did, but it wasn’t the right time.

“I’m still sore,” you continued. “And I have some stuff to do right now. I have to go.”

He nodded. “Right.”

To your surprise, Ben gave you some space and you stepped up, not before taking the cup and your phone between your hands again. You stopped, standing by his side for a moment.

“Maybe later?” you said, watching his face attentively.

That sleazy smirk curved on his lips. “Later.”

You walked away then, feeling his eyes over your figure. God, you were so fucking regretting offering yourself to him already for some reason.

You sat down on the dining table as he settled down a saucer and two cups of tea with a bowl of biscuits.

“It’s not necessary–”

“Nonsense, take it,” Butcher said, taking a seat in front of you.

He served you and him the tea with an elegance only a British man could ever have, not that you expected him to have that inside. Butcher was a soldier once, now an undercover agent whom you had no idea what to expect, besides the few things Grace had told you about him, but she wasn’t there. This meeting was hidden from everyone. Butcher crossed his arms on his chest, looking at you with an expression you could not decode. You were barely knowing him after all.

“I’m not trying to poison you,” he joked, taking his own cup to taste the tea.

“Well, thanks for your kindness,” you took the cup and sipped the warm drink. It was surprisingly good. “So, weren’t you after Victoria?” you asked, following the previous conversation you had with him before sitting down.

“Yeah, cunt’s indestructible,” he remarks. “Can’t do anything now, planning on just retiring and just leaving it all...”

“There’s a fucking outburst right now between Homelander’s cult and Starlight fanatics, Victoria is almost there along with Robert Singer at the White House. Why you wanna give up on that?”

“I’m not part of the team anymore,” Butcher confessed, taking you aback.

“Is that the reason you want Ryan back?”

He nodded and you sensed vulnerability coming from him. The tough facade, the immoral plans, the thirst for revenge for the fucker who screw up his life and made his wife’s a living hell… Even your own thirst for payback and burning Vought to the ground wasn’t as big as his own grief. After all, you were just another piece on the chessboard. Butcher saw you as one, and you did the same with him and Ben. You were just taking in things that would help you to reach your own, selfish goals. One can’t compete with that.

He coughed in the middle of the silence you shared, and you noticed there was a black liquid coming off one of his ears you have never seen.

“Are you okay?” you worriedly asked.

Butcher looked like he noticed your eyes staring at the side of his face and wiped up the substance with his finger, cleaning it up with a napkin.

“You stopped taking the temp V?” you insisted on his silence.

“Yeah, I fucking did, and then had it again. The true V this time, didn’t help. Just accelerated my own death,” Butcher seemed like he didn’t give a shit as he told you.

“Fuck, are you crazy?!” you exclaimed.

“Thought it’d save me, alright?!” he ranted. “Thought it could. So I could say I had more time with Ryan, but I don’t. That’s why you’re here. Do you have what I asked or not?”

Grumbling, with your jaw tight, you took from your jacket a small packet of white powder and tossed it on top of the table.

“A sedative. Will keep him asleep for days if you’re not careful,” you announced. “Give me the gas now.”

Butcher stood up abruptly, and searched for something in one of the kitchen cabinets. He took out a grey cylindrical vessel, similar to a fire extinguisher, and left it on the floor by your feet.

“There you have it,” he said, before taking his seat back.

You didn’t say ‘thank you’, neither did he, but Butcher dared to speak out again.

“Can you come when Ryan is here?”

“Excuse me? I don’t know the kid, I don’t see why I should be here.”

“Another secret is good enough for ya,” he insisted. His face was just as plain as yours.

You didn’t know what else to expect from him at this point, but you followed him up.

“And?”

“There’s something down Godolkin. A virus, created to exterminate supes,” he explained, leaning forward and whispering as if someone else could hear outside the walls. “If your cure ain’t working, maybe you could use some help from there.”

Ben emptied the last drawer in your room. There was fucking nothing. The only pleasure he took in from sniffing into your stuff was checking your underwear, from the most comfy cotton panties to the lingerie he’d love to see on you while he fucked your brains out. And then, nothing. Emptiness. No secrets, no files. Nothing.

Not caring of putting your stuff in place, he just tossed them into the drawer. If you were to indulge back there, you would certainly notice the mess. But he didn’t care if you did. He fucked you good, but that didn’t mean he trusted you. That’s why he spent the last hours of the day checking the whole place after you left him all alone and by himself. The past few days, he had spent checking everywhere to find a clue or something that could give you away easily.

Tired, Ben went down to the living room and checked between the bookshelves, only to find dust and old books he didn’t give a shit about. He scoffed to himself, and walked to the back of the room, where the aisle ended. The carpet felt different, as if another floor was down there. He knocked on the floor with his fist. He was right; there was another floor down the living room.

“What are you fucking hiding in here?” he mumbled to himself, his mind pulling the tricks of any stuff you could probably have down there.

He pulled the carpet away and found a small metal knob, unlocked. He opened it just to reveal stairs and he went down carefully. A heavy metal door stood in front of him, an electronic panel with numbers by the side. The walls were also made of the same material, and he tensed. It wasn’t a good sign. Before, he noticed you would sneak out of your room some nights. There was no other place you should be visiting but here.

He thought of breaking the door, but it wasn’t that subtle. There was a code to get inside, probably he could get it. It had to be something important for you, right? Shouldn’t be so difficult.

But he knew better than to continue playing this fucking game of hiding the thruth from him. Anger seized him in a second, thinking of endless possibilities this could be a hidden lab. You were a doctor after all, he knew what those cocksuckers were capable of. You were no exception.

He clenched his fists tightly, and heard in the distance the sound of your car. Ben quickly climbed the stairs and covered the door to the basement. The click of the door announced you were home and he made his way to the kitchen to take out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

Once you stepped up, he poured the liquor. You left a couple of bags full with groceries on the kitchen counter as Ben gave you a dirty smile and offered the whiskey to you. It was his way of disguising what he really felt.

A quick fuck should do, he thought.

“So, later, right?” he said, taking a sip from his glass.

Immediately, you knew what those words meant.

“You’ve been waiting so long I see,” you smirked.

He pulled you closer with a single hand before claiming your lips in a harsh kiss. He smiled when you moaned against his tongue and he pulled away, this time his lips claiming the sensitive spot on your neck.

“And can’t wait any longer, sugar.”

this fic tags:

@k-slla @syrma-sensei @mostlymarvelgirl @cheynovak @drasticemotions @thesilmarillionblog @deans-spinster-witch @girlsforpjm @delaynew

[luci4theminorannoyance]

heyyy!! you may or may not see this so i might send it again but i actually have a self aware idea that i kinda wanna write myself too but i wanna see how you make it:

self aware kreuger and keegan who’s like in love with us or something and we’re like a commentary youtuber who does videos on icebergs, deep dives into video games or controversial/problematic things

HELP ik this is confusing so here are some examples

(i love both of these youtubers to death btw go subscribe to them they make fire videos)

and call of duty happened to be what we were gonna be covering in our video and we were gonna talk about it’s history, the problematic parts of the fandom, cosplaying on social media, and what cod became today and all that jazz

again i might resend just incase you dont see it but you dont have to do this !! i also plan on writing my interpretation of this and stuff so watch out for that hehe x

i saw this as romantic and gn reader would be great but its up to you !!

a/n: woah this is a super cool idea!!! I am not truly equipped to do all of this but I’ll see if I can make it live up to such a cool concept 🥲

Keegan:

-Keegan had watched you for months, from the screen as you sat on the loading selection page, or while you deeply dived into little bits of characters or chats or simply played to take notes… it was cute, watching you work so hard on something

-luckily for him, you recorded it in the same room too and it gave him an awful lot of information on his ‘world’ or at least what he was to your point of view and how others viewed everything about his life, other people, and anything related

-it was hard to accept of course, but Keegan didn’t shatter under the weighing pressure that his world wasn’t fully real. As he had you now. And that was more then enough for him

-he’d voice specific lines about lore you would otherwise have to Google for hours, diving into files you couldn’t reach and finding out what you had been oh so stressed about the night before while going through nitty gritty details

-he felt his blood boil just a tiny bit every time he heard you replaying videos of less then correct interpretations of himself, or of some cosplayer making him a man he wasn’t. It was nice attention though, he couldn’t deny that.

-oh he couldn’t wait to tell you all about what you wanted to know, or to hear about you for once… he wanted to know so badly what your favorite color was or why you do videos, but he could wait a bit longer to tell you, hopefully

Krueger:

-LOVES hearing your voice when you film, when you talk, when you sigh over new drama to cover or giggle when you get some traction on a post, since it means the very world to him

-he’s slightly scared you’ll set down the game as soon as your done with the video on Call of Duty. He doesn’t want to be alone again, not after he’s come to the conclusion of his life not being real

-what if you set down the game and don’t come back? What if you give up on the video? What if it doesn’t do well so you don’t post about call of duty again and you forget all about him

-makes him scared and antsy to tell you, to signal you that he’s there. That he’s alive or at least as alive as pixels can be

-he wants to hold you and squeeze you and tell you all the things you spend time researching or chuckle with you and having you hear him properly

-at least he’s figured out some semblance of a quick way to get to the internet, and he plays your videos on repeat, time after time to hear your voice and to see your smile

[madaqueue]

Dripping in Gold | Chapter 3

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, fluff, smut. kissing, brief fingering (f receiving), car sex. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.3k

a/n: the way i've given up proofreading this lmao lemme know if y'all find any errors bc i'm simply not looking for em anymore! anyways eat up :)

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What the hell did I get myself into?

The question repeats in your mind while the cool air in Gojo’s car blasts against your skin, still hot from earlier, as his hand returns to its natural place along your thigh.

After your little encounter, he promised to take you to one of his favorite places for lunch. He also promised to wash your soiled panties for you as he shoved them into his pocket with a smirk, citing how “gentlemanly” he is.

The events of less than an hour prior replay in your mind as you remember how his touch felt, how his lips pressed against yours, how badly you wanted him to bend you over and fuck you then and there. But instead, he just picked up all the dresses you had tried on and marched them out of the changing room to the front of the store, setting them down and paying without a second thought. “Oh, and we’ll take the yellow one she’s wearing, too,” he chirps to the attendant as she rings up an amount you can’t even fathom.

You get pulled out of your thoughts as the car stops, your door opening suddenly as Gojo once again holds his hand out to you. He has brought you to an adorable restaurant you’ve never even seen before, with yellow flowers lining the walkways and windowsills of the old building, perfectly complementing the new outfit you have on.

Once again, the date is actually really lovely. He orders you both champagne and tells you to get whatever else you want from the menu, and conversation flows naturally between you two, almost like old friends. Wanting to learn more about him, you direct the discussion to his past, probing to understand more about his background. While he often acts like an open book, you find that there are three things he will absolutely not talk about: his family, his home, or his money. Whenever one of these topics comes up he maneuvers the conversation elsewhere, often deflecting back to you.

That said, holy shit does this man love to talk - you bet that if you put him in an empty room he’d speak just to hear his own voice. He seems to know something about everything, and he wants to make sure you know it, too.

“Do you ever shut up?” you tease after his fourth time interjecting a random, unwarranted piece of information into a story you were telling him.

“Hmm,” he thinks, bringing a hand up to ruffle through his hair. “Nope, I don’t think so,” a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

While the time you spend with him is nice, his inability to be forthcoming does put you slightly on edge. You can’t help but find yourself wondering, in a tiny corner of the back of your mind, what’s the catch? Why is someone who seems so perfect possibly interested in you?

You push the feelings of unease down as you continue your meal. Eventually you look up and see his eyes locked on yours, taking in your every move. The cerulean pierces through you like a cold wind, and you can’t quite place the feeling it sends through you until you feel his fingertips brush against your knee from under the table.

Desire.

“You know,” you say, a grin slowly forming on your face, “I love this dress, but I almost feel like it’s getting a bit uncomfortable.”

“Oh yeah?” he tilts his head, knowingly playing into your little game. “Well, that’s a shame.” He sighs dramatically. “I guess you could take it off, if you really need to.”

“Mhm,” you hum, “I might need your help with that, though.”

Leaning forward slightly, his words come out airy, “Anything for you, princess.”

He stands up and holds his hand out again, your fingers intertwining with his as his free hand pulls out his wallet and drops a few hundred dollar bills on the table, more than enough to cover your meal. Leading you back to his car, you feel your heart start to race in anticipation.

Pulling open the back door, you hop in first and get comfortable against the seat before he joins you inside. You hadn’t noticed how spacious the back of his car is but you’re grateful that it at least won’t be uncomfortable; you expected him to take you back to his place or yours, but this will do just fine for now, as your need for him was increasing with every second he wasn’t inside you.

Immediately upon closing the door his lips crash into yours, soft and warm against the lingering cool air inside the vehicle. As you sit in his lap his arms reach around your body to undo the zipper of your dress before sliding it over your head, tossing it somewhere into the depths of the car.

Since your panties were already stuffed into his pocket and you hadn’t worn a bra, you were now fully bare in front of him. He pulls away from the kiss for a moment, allowing his eyes to slowly cover every inch of your body, taking you in as a smile curls at the corners of his lips.

Gojo lays down with his back against the seats so you can straddle him, legs around his waist as you start to undo the buttons of his white dress shirt. With your eyes closed and hands shaking slightly in excitement, you take longer than the man would like as he sighs against your lips and simply rips his shirt open, muttering “I’ll buy a new one,” as it slides off his shoulders.

Your eyes open for a moment to take in his body beneath you - his firm chest, abs surrounded by a v-line that dipped below the waist of his pants, practically begging you to trace along it with your fingers. As you do, you hear Gojo’s breath hitch momentarily at your touch.

“Aw, are you nervous?” you tease against him as your fingertips brush along his waistband, slowly fumbling against the buckle of his belt.

He smirks at you through the kiss. “Just impatient.”

Before you can quip back, he has undone his belt and zipper, allowing you to pull his black slacks down to his ankles, sitting up slightly to let him kick them off. Your hands find the top of his black boxers before his hands wrap around your wrists.

Pulling his mouth away from yours for a moment, his eyes open to meet your gaze. “Are you sure?” he asks through a breathy sigh.

You nod eagerly, starting to lean back down before a hand reaches up to stop you.

“Say it,” he commands, voice suddenly low and raspy.

“I want to fuck you, Satoru,” the words barely leaving your mouth before your lips crash back into his, a new greediness between both of you as your tongues glide against each other’s.

Your attention turns back to undressing him as you pull his boxers down, revealing his fully erect cock. The tip flushed, needy, drawing your hands to it as you use your thumb to drag the leaking precum around his tip before sliding your hand loosely down his length. Satoru sighs into your open mouth at the feeling, reaching his own hand down between your legs.

As soon as he touches you, you feel electricity shoot through your body, his fingers barely brushing against your clit. Maybe you were still horny from earlier, maybe you just needed him that badly, but something in you couldn’t wait any longer.

Your hips move so you’re hovering above him, using your hand around his base to align him with your entrance. His tip slowly enters you, the feeling already threatening to send you over the edge as you envelop him in your warmth.

He moans your name softly as you drop your hips to take all of him inside of you. His cock stretches at your walls, the mix of pleasure and pain better than anything you’ve felt before. You fit him perfectly as he fills up every last inch of you, your wetness allowing him to glide in and out with ease.

“Wanted you so bad,” he murmurs against your lips as you grind your hips in circles up and down his length, “needed you.” One of his hands grips at your waist while the other snakes behind you to grab the thick flesh of your ass.

You continue your movements, using one hand on his chest to stabilize yourself, his cock pressing into every last part of you. “S’good, you feel s’good,” he babbles, a never-ending stream of consciousness leaving his mouth as your body moves against his.

Damn, he really can’t shut up, can he? you think to yourself with a grin.

You don’t mind though, the silky lightness of his voice only adding to your pleasure. As you feel yourself approaching your release, your pussy clenches around him, eliciting another moan from the man underneath you.

His grip tightens on your waist as he suddenly begins thrusting his hips up into you, adding to the pace. You open your eyes slightly as he reaches even deeper into you, glancing down to see the veins in his arms as his fingers dig into your skin.

“F-fuck, I’m close,” he whines, desperation dripping from his voice as he continues pumping into you.

“Me too, ‘Toru,” the words leaving your throat in a hoarse whisper.

You don’t even process the nickname, something simply spoken out of ease as sounds struggled to escape your lips through moans of pleasure, but it sends butterflies through Satoru’s body as he is suddenly pushed into his climax. You follow almost immediately, your body racked with pleasure as your legs shake and cunt flutters around his cock as he finishes inside of you.

The humidity of the car finally hits you as you try to slow your breathing, realizing both you and Satoru are covered in a thin layer of sweat as you peel yourself off of him to sit up.

“Wow,” he pants, reaching a hand up to brush white hair off of his slightly damp forehead, “that was amazing.”

“I know,” you reply slyly, leaning down to place a peck against his lips.

He chuckles, “So cocky already? And here I thought we could have a sweet post-fuck cuddle or something.”

You can’t stop yourself from giggling. “Oh yeah, in the comfort of the back seat of your car?”

“Aw, are you saying you don’t like my car?” he fakes a pout. “Guess you can just walk home then.”

You roll your eyes at his teasing. “You and I both know damn well I’m not walking home, and we aren’t going anywhere until you find my dress.”

“As you wish, sweetheart,” he smirks, sitting up and wrapping his arms tightly around you, placing a wet kiss on your cheek as you laugh and squirm in his lap.

–

For a while, things with Satoru are easy. You find yourself slipping into a rhythm with him: he calls you, he takes you out somewhere, you fuck, and he pays you. It feels nice to finally be able to afford to live again and not stress about your job hunt, and you start to genuinely enjoy the time you spend with him, looking forward to your weekly dates.

Between the times you see him, you also find yourselves communicating more often. He starts sending you pictures of himself trying on clothes in that all-too-familiar dressing room, asking for your opinions on what he should get so he can match you whenever you go out somewhere. You start video calling each other too, getting to see that stupid grin on his face whenever you pick up. Usually you just talk about your days or what shows you're watching, but you slowly start bringing him more into your life, telling him about your family and whatever gossip you hear about from your friends. A few times you’ve even invited him to come out with your group, but he always declines with a vague excuse. A part of you wants more, to have him in your life fully, but you also know that it would bring with it the complicated explanation of how you met and how your relationship first started.

You also begin to notice that you never hook up in your apartment or his - it’s always in restaurant bathrooms, his car, or the few times he’s gotten you a hotel room to stay with him overnight. You don’t particularly mind, since your apartment is still not the cleanest, although it’s certainly gotten better with your newfound free time, but it does seem odd to you. Whenever you try to bring it up, he just shrugs or brushes it off with a wave of his hand. “It’s too personal,” he always reasons, and you decide that you either have to drop it and accept how things are or push it and risk losing him.

Around six months after your first date, something changes. He drops you off at home after an amazing dinner at a new steakhouse and even better sex, this time in the private lounge of the restaurant. Inside your apartment you shower and head straight to bed. When you awake the next morning, you see two notifications on your phone: one from your bank informing you of a deposit of $6,000, and one from Gojo.

Gojo: Sorry about not paying you right away last night, I must have been a little distracted after our dinner and dessert 🥰 (the dessert was us having sex). I sent you a bit extra as compensation for any emotional damages I may have caused <3

You roll your eyes, a smile involuntarily forming on your lips as you read his message. Suddenly, it hits you: you didn’t even notice that he didn’t pay you. For months, that had been the routine, the expectation you both had set and agreed to. But last night, you didn’t notice. And maybe, you didn’t care?

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

[e-vay]

if it’s okay to ask, What are top 5 favourite sonic games and what is it that you like about them?

Mine are 1. Sonic Unleashed, 2. Sonic Adventure 2, 3. The Murder of Sonic The Hedgehog, 4. Sonic Riders Zero Gravity, 4. Sonic Frontiers

Those are some great picks!

Mine are constantly changing, but my current top 5 as I'm typing this are:

1: The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog. This game was so unexpected and it did not need to be as awesome as it was, but man they put everything into it. The art is GORGEOUS. The writing is HILARIOUS. The gameplay is actually fun! And Amy's (basically) the main character? An absolute treasure! I can only hope we get more like it!

2: Sonic Adventure 2 Battle. The game I think of when I think "Sonic." It's the perfect balance of great story and gameplay. It's heavy but it's also fun. The Chao Garden. The main storyline already has great replay value, but the individual challenges for each level were actually fun (and killer) and made you explore each level in a new way. I never get tired of playing this game!

3: Sonic Frontiers. This game is so beautiful not only visually but emotionally. I can't tell you how many times while playing I would specifically scale to the top of a structure just so I could enjoy the view. And every time it rains in the game it's breathtaking! I LOVED that we got a story with serious, heartbreaking themes. I cried multiple times (AND ESPECIALLY DURING EGGMAN MOMENTS!?!). Don't get me wrong, I think it's important for Sonic games to be fun too (and I had a lot of fun playing this, for sure) but I love when the writers aren't afraid to delve deeper and explore the vulnerability of these seemingly unshakable characters.

4: Sonic the Hedgehog 3. My favorite of all the classic Sonic games. I enjoy the graphics in this version the most and the music tracks and levels are peak in my opinion. And even though the bonus level drives me nucking futs, I actually love it (I'm a masochist I suppose).

5: Sonic Dream Team. I was not expecting this level of quality from a mobile game. The character models ARE SO GOOD I CAN'T TAKE IT. They're so beautiful??? Let me kiss them PLEASE. The levels are vivid and so detailed and really look straight out of a dream. There are VOICE LINES?! I constantly replay levels as both Sonic and Amy because I just love hearing them so much. I also love games that offer different gameplay styles depending on the characters you play (though obvi I prefer playing as Sonic and Amy). It's reminiscent of SA2. I just wish it was a console game and not limited to Apple Arcade. More people should be able to play it, especially on a big screen where you can appreciate it!

Thanks for the question!

[patchoulimademoiselle]

Bat Shit Crazy. (Part 2)

Bucky Barnes x Reader Fic

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: language, sub/dom dynamic, large age gap, smut, praise kink. Reader has bpd, and a personality switch takes place. Bucky cusses you out in Russian. All the good stuff.

Summary: Your first mission together in a while doesn't exactly go as you expected it to. 

Notes: This fic is dark, and it only gets darker. This is more Winter Soldier Bucky in terms of behavioral traits and dynamics with other characters. This is not a soft lovey dovey style fic, and if that bothers you DO NOT READ. 

Masterlist

You savor Bucky being home, home, as if you can call it that without a guilty conscience. Your trigger finger is itching by the time you’re assigned a new mission, but you’re disappointed to find that its only recon, and it’s in harsh winter terrain.

Your black tactical gear has been switched for white, a thick winter coat and light colored combat boots. The air is crisp, stinging the tip of your nose every time you inhale. You hate recon, and you hate whatever country this is, Russia maybe? You have a bad habit of not paying attention during mission briefings. You are not the brains in this equation. More like a secret weapon hidden in a small frame, so as you find a million ways to distract yourself, Bucky soaks up the details like a sponge.

Your short attention span does bother him, one day it can cost you your life if you aren’t careful. But the dynamic between you tends to work with it, he gives you a shorter version on the way to the drop sight, and you have signals assigned between each other as code. You can never ignore a signal. That’s the deal between you. It’s all fun and games until you take it too far, he has warned you so many times that it will cost you everything.

I will not let you kill me and yourself by being reckless, the warning replays in your head and it sends a shiver down your spine, you reach to grab his arm, struggling to keep up with his pace.

“Bucky,” You smile, a little breathless. “I’m dying here.”

“You’re fine.” He says, “Tighten up.”

This is who he is, traces of his training are hidden in everything he does, his life before this making him cold and rough around the edges. But here, stalking through the snow, like a predator searching for prey, you can sense how dangerous he really is. There are traces of the winter soldier still in him, and it concerns him to know that it excites you. Those rough edges will do more than cut you one day, but for now, he is no more dangerous to you than a guard dog to its owner, loyal, trusting. You know he will die before he lets you get hurt.

You trust him, so you tighten up, fighting through the burn in your thighs as you continue uphill for what feels like hours. The hike only takes about two before he’s signaling you to stop, his footsteps stopping abruptly.

You hear nothing, but as you look up at his face, you know he senses something. He starts to crouch, you follow his lead until you’re both belly down in the snow. He sets up the rifle that was hanging on his shoulder, using it to survey the area.

“What is it?” You’re close enough to talk into his ear, voice barely audible in the air around you.

“This is a high traffic area,” His voice is so low, the thickness of it making it hard to hear. You strain, faces touching, “Their camp must be close.” They, you weren’t sure who, that’s the whole point of this. “Mark these coordinates. We have to move soon.”

 You reach into his coat pocket, slowly, pulling out the sat nav Tony had designed for the team, marking your coordinates, entering a note of high traffic, before returning it to his pocket.

Bucky must feel sure of himself, because he turns his head to you now, lips almost touching as he says, “Remember your training, what do you see?”

You want to kiss him, a few stray strands of hair fall over his forehead, the fur lining of his coat hood makes him look so much younger, normal, as if you weren’t on a recon mission in the snow. A young couple going on a camping trip, a winter hike in the woods to get away from your busy lives.

But then you look into his eyes, dark, cold, a trained soldier focused on the task at hand, and you know he would kill you himself if you tried to distract him.

So you turn your head, looking at the trees in front of you. He watches you as you say, “A disadvantage.” And you swear you see the corner of his lips twitch up in a smile.

“Good girl.” Then he’s sitting up, slowly. “We’ll have to go around, find higher ground.” He extends a hand to you, you take it, and he pulls you up out of the snow. “Keep your eyes moving.” You're shocked at his change in attitude, an unfamiliar gentleness in his tone.

You don’t remember the last time he seemed so carefree on a mission like this. It must be a lighter feeling compared to what he just went through with Steve, but he has never let his guard down so much with you. He is always on edge, expecting you to fuck up somehow.

But he seems to trust you here, or maybe he’s testing you. Either way, you’re grateful for it. You don’t feel like you’re walking on eggshells, he trusts you, and that means more than he can know.

You think he senses it, his eyes lighter when you stand.

He wants you, you recognize this stance, that stare, there are memories floating behind his eyes, his seemingly innocent touch isn’t so innocent, his hand lingering, hesitating to let you go.

But you’re too exposed here, the reality of your situation setting in and ruining the moment as flurries of snow fall between you. A smile breaks across your face, pulling your hand from his to catch a snowflake.

“We need to move.” He’s back, your window of opportunity has closed, shoving your shoulder to force you backwards, you turn, walking away from the spot you had just laid in the snow, away from the moment you just shared.

He lets you lead, you aren’t sure why, his eyes watching your every move. But it doesn’t feel invasive, doesn’t feel threatening at all. It feels protective, guiding. You embrace this dynamic.

It is hard for him to let you be yourself sometimes. Aloof, just a young girl still trying to navigate the world compared to his hardened persona. A part of him knows he is ruining you, exposing you to a darkness you would have never known if you hadn’t become so close. Your life was troubled before him, but he knows he is only fueling the fire, teaching you to dance along with the flames, teaching you to embrace the pain of the burn.

But you don’t seem to notice it yet, and he couldn’t ever find it in himself to let you be. So you stay this way, wild, careless, continuously dancing on the edge. Because he is there to catch you, even if he is the reason you fall.

But most of the time, you take yourself there, filled with an anger he hasn’t helped you control yet, a recklessness that comes from a hard life, not caring what happens, needing a thrill to make it all worth it.

Like right now, a lapse in judgment, a fallen log up ahead, you jump on it, trying to balance, but it collapses under your weight, the sound of wood cracking echoes into the air around you, no doubt traveling for miles.

You freeze, knowing you fucked up, knowing that if you get out of this alive, you will be tortured for this mistake. But you don’t really have time to think about the consequences, Bucky is grabbing you by the hood of your coat, pulling you into a run.

It’s choaking you, the zipper digging into your skin, but you don’t dare complain, letting him pull you as you run, stopping when you’ve reached a good distance. He pushes you against a tree, thick enough to cover you, then presses himself in front of you, shielding you both.

His jaw is clenched, breathing erratic as he tries to calm himself, there’s an anger in his eyes that you know will come with a harsh punishment later. You wait there, minutes go by, no one comes. And as soon as he knows it’s clear, his anger is directed at you.

“How stupid can you be?” His voice is strained, trying to control his volume.

“Oh please, we’re fine!”

He clamps your mouth with his hand, “Заткнись.” Shut the fuck up. He hardly ever speaks in Russian to you, he taught you in case of emergency, but you know this is only a display of anger, “Вам повезло, что вы живы.” You are lucky to be alive.

And just like that, the good feeling is gone. The trust, the security, everything that made this feel easy, gone. You shove his hand away, trying your hardest to bite down your own anger. How silly of you to think that this would be different, that you could lighten up and enjoy his good mood.

You say nothing else, watching as he pulls out the sat nav, marking your location and making a note.

Your cheeks are hot, with mostly embarrassment, watching him struggle to control his anger.

You almost compromised the entire mission, taking it too far, searching for the wrong kind of thrills. The only excitement you are allowed here, with a man like him, is from squeezing a trigger.

His eyes burn into you as you hold your hand out, not asking, demanding to take his riffle. If there is anything he can trust in you, it is your anger, allowing your darkness to consume you and help you push through. He knows he doesn’t have to worry about anything else happening, allowing you to take it.

It feels cold, heavy, a physical translation of the burden that sits on your shoulders.

You are not just a girl anymore. You are a trained soldier, you are a weapon.

This is where you will find your purpose. This is where you will find all the thrill you will ever know. This is what he wants you to be.

Bucky leads you deeper into the woods, the trees becoming taller, thicker, the change in terrain tells you that you are closer to their base, the uphill hike turning into flat ground. Your disadvantage is lost, eyes scanning the trees for movement, for traces of life.

Before long, you hear it, voices, only a few meters ahead of you. A watch post no doubt. Bucky raises a closed fist, signaling you to stop. You freeze. Rifle raised to scope the area. You can not see them, but the fact that they are close enough to hear makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

He holds two fingers up, waving them in a circular motion, signaling you to go around. It’s a simple maneuver, one that you’ve done many times. It feels like muscle memory, you nod to him, side stepping through the snow to circle around the area. You’re light on your feet, securing the rifle to your back, footsteps silent as you follow the sound of their voices.

Three men, armed with assault rifles, military grade. They are camouflaged, it takes you a moment to spot them. And in the distance, beside a tree, you see Bucky, eyes locking. He marks your coordinates, then signals you to keep moving.

A few feet out, when their voices start to fade, you circle back, taking a moment to find cover behind a tree, making sure it is clear before you speak. “There will be more of them.”

“I know,” You can barely see his eyes from under your hood, but his voice tells you he is tense, “We need to find a vantage point to stake out.”

You take your rifle in hand, following him through the trees. The snow feels more compact here, walked on over and over, another heavy foot traffic area. You are close, too close. Your pace is slow, cautious as you search for any vantage point. A slight hill, no doubt used as a watch post, You watch as Bucky reaches down to pull a knife from his ankle, arming himself in case of an encounter.

But to your luck, no one is there to greet you when you reach the top of the hill.

You’re quick to set up a stake out post, unloading the pack you brought with you, setting up a scope on your riffle. Bucky pulls out and energy bar, opening the wrapper and handing it to you. You lay flat on your belly, taking an occasional bite, until you find a foot soldier, about a hundred yards out.

You follow him, you can feel Bucky watching as you shift to the right, he leads you right to their base, a small camp with two tents and a fire. There are two ATV’s parked to the far left of their camp, a group of foot soldiers guarding each tent.

“I’ve got them.” You scoot back, giving him room to take his spot so that he can see for himself.

You watch as he lays flat as a board, settling in to where you’ve positioned the rifle. You dig into your pack, pulling out the canteen you brought, taking a sip of water.

“Good girl.” The praise does nothing to excite you, not after earlier, you simply watch him in silence. “Let me take first watch, use the sat nav to make a map.”

You reach into his pocket, retrieving the device. Inside your pack, pen and paper, an old school style of marking your territory. But you realize you may need it on case you two are ever separated, in case you need a backup plan. You do your very best, marking your stake out post first, then a hundred yard out as you have just discovered, their base. You mark the exact coordinates of where you are, and of where you found the first watch post.

By the time you are done, your energy bar is done, the water a quarter gone. You tap his side, “What do you see?”

“There must be another watch post twenty-five yards out in the opposite direction,” He points with two fingers. “They switch out in groups of three, but it seems to be at alternating times from the other post we first saw.”

“You should go find out, I’ll stay here and keep watch.” He looks at you then, his face is expressionless, you can’t read him, but you know he’s thinking something. “I’ll be fine, we have a job to do.”

He sits up, letting you take back your post. He fills up on an energy bar and takes a few sips of water while he goes over the map you made for him. You burned a lot of energy hiking up hill, the first thing he ever taught you was to conserve your energy, always refuel as soon as you are safe.

His hand on your shoulder, crouching to look at you. “Don’t move from this spot.” That darkness in his eyes return, a promise to let the world burn if something happens to you. He rests his forehead against yours, a goodbye, a promise to return, and that if he doesn’t he died trying.

Nothing else matters in a moment like this. Every time you separate, it could easily be the last time you see each other.

And then he’s gone, footsteps silent as he leaves your post. You don’t dare leave, watching their camp with complete focus. You want to know what they are protecting, who they are protecting. Why so many guns for just two little tents in the fucking woods? You focus on the tent flaps, the soldiers that come in and out. You see nothing useful, deciding to focus on the soldiers themselves. Their commander has a com system, tech too advanced to be just an ex-military group like you originally thought. Their ATV’s are unregistered, fake plates that are no doubt a cover up, you memorize the plate numbers, logging them into the sat nav, along with identifications for their weaponry.

Every piece of information helps, the grade of uniform, the tents, anything that can be traced to something. You double check the area, no one in sight, and reach for the camera in your pack. You take as many photos as you can, their camp, the vehicles, their uniforms and weapons.

You get lost in it a bit, trying to focus on as many details as possible, when a hand clamps around your mouth, lips at your ear. “Персик.” Peach, a greeting. And then a kiss, soft, light, too quick to be savored, placed at your temple. He settles beside you, pulling the map from his coat pocket, he takes the camera from you, trading.

He has marked two other lookout posts on the map, measured twenty-five yards from each other, just like he estimated. His tracking skills are better than anyone else you have seen, you’ve only been able to pick up on some of it.

“Any activity here?” He asks, looking through the pictures you’ve taken.

“No, whoever they are protecting in that tent is to heavily guarded, I can’t see anything.”

“If we wait long enough, we will see something.” He says, “They have to rotate eventually, a fresh group will come to replace these soldiers.”

You don’t want to stay here over night. The temperature will drop to below freezing, you have nothing but insulated blankets to keep you warm. You can’t make a fire, and one of you will have to stay up to keep watch all night.

But he says nothing about packing up as the sun starts to set, nothing about how you will survive the night. He only taps your shoulder, offering to switch. He pulls his knife from his ankle, keeping it in hand as he settles behind the rifle.

“Bucky?”

“Stay next to me under the blanket, I’ll wake you up when it’s time to switch.” Is all he says.

So you do as you’re told. You scoot as close to him as you’re able, laying on your back to avoid any aches. The blanket does nothing at first, draped across both of you to shield you from the harsh air. But as time goes by, your breath filling the air trapped around you, the heat radiating from your body and his as you shiver, the cold snow beneath you doesn’t feel as cold anymore. With Bucky’s presence beside you, solid, safe, familiar, it doesn’t feel so bad as you close your eyes and let yourself relax.

He never wakes you to switch, he lets you sleep through the night, knife clenched in his hand, head continuously on a swivel. Looking down to you, checking for your breathing, back to the camp for any activity, in the directions of all marked lookout posts. He half expects something to go wrong, this is all playing out so well.

The snow stopped hour ago, the wind is soft enough to allow actual insulation under the blanket, you are sleeping peacefully, no nightmares, no movement.

But nothing happens. The crack of sunlight behind you is what wakes you up, you are resting too well, you fear something is wrong when you jump out of your sleep, a twitch more than anything else, too afraid of what is waiting for you.

But you feel Bucky still beside you, eyes on you when you poke your head out from under the blanket. He didn’t sleep at all, but nothing on his face tells you he is tired, or that his face feels frozen. It was an act of kindness, taking the full watch, and you will repay him for it later.

You sit up slowly, trying not to make too much noise as you gather the blanket, folding it up and packing it away. You crouch behind a tree, relieving yourself and burying your piss under the snow. With what little cover of darkness you have left, you quickly switch places with Bucky, watching the camp while he relieves himself, stretches his muscles after remaining still for so long.

You could never do it yourself, you know part of it is the super soldier serum in his veins, the training her has undergone in his past, to remain so disciplined, to withstand harsh conditions for so long with no effects on his body. You are thankful for it, even if it feels like nothing to him.

It is everything to you.

You let him eat, drink, have a moment of peace to figure out a plan. Until you finally see it, movement.

“Buck, the camera.”

You don’t have to say anything else, he’s quick to lay beside you, watching as another ATV arrives at the camp. You time stamp it in the sat nav, watching as the soldiers switch out, and finally, two men exit the tents. You don’t recognize them, you have no idea who you’ve just seen, but you know right away that Bucky does.

His body goes ridged, only for a second, before he returns to taking pictures.

Someone from his past? You can only wonder, you know he will never tell you, or anyone.

You wait until the shift change is finished, a fresh group of soldiers, and a new person to take position inside of the left tent. You hope this is enough, you hope these people can be identified and that this stake out wasn’t for nothing.

You know more now than you did walking in, which is the entire point. You try not to stress over it, Bucky’s voice pulling you out of your head as he tells you to pack up.

You’re done here.

He doesn’t have to explain to you what’s going on, you’ve had enough training on recon missions to know his tactics. You never pick up where you drop off. If you are ever compromised, the first thing they will do is track where you came from. Doubling back increases your chances of getting caught.

So you continue deeper into the woods, the complete opposite of the clearing you were dropped off at. The jets are quiet, cloaked, but not completely untraceable. If their tech is as advanced as it seems to be, they can find any incoming aircrafts if they know to look. If you have remained uncompromised, this will be easy.

But of course, you always have to expect the worst.

You walk for hours, so deep within the terrain that you start to worry you are lost until Bucky tells you to cut north to a clearing. Finally, he turns on the locator in the sat nav, and you do your best to hide out until the extraction team arrives.

You feel lighter, you can breathe again. The mission is finished, you aren’t out of the woods yet, literally and figuratively, but the hardest part is over.

And as you sit there, back against a tree, a bit of snow in your boots, cheeks rosy from the cold, you try to find the bright side of this. The peace and quiet, the fresh air, the time outside of HQ with the only person in the world you care about.

He watches you, a glint of something soft in his eyes, adoration, love maybe, and against his better judgement, he reaches out to grab your hand, pulling you to come closer, onto his lap.

“You stress me the fuck out.” He sighs, a gloved hand securing itself at your hip. “But you proved yourself.”

You can’t tell if he’s scolding you, or if this is a compliment. But you embrace it, whatever this is, because he would never allow it any other time. You are technically not out of danger yet, there is still a chance you can be discovered here. But it seems like he doesn’t care, his need to touch you is stronger than his instincts. Everything inside of you is telling you to take advantage of this moment of weakness, this crack in his armor.

You exploit it, leaning in to kiss him, lips cold and slightly chapped from your night spent outdoors. But you don’t care, neither does he, a deep moan vibrating through his chest as he pulls you even closer against him.

You scared him, he thought for a moment he might lose you, that you would be caught and killed in the middle of nowhere.

But you pulled through for him, understood his worry and corrected yourself. He was rewarding you, giving you the attention and the thrill you had been seeking from him before. The danger, the adrenalin.

He’s guiding you to grind against him, tongue in your mouth when you moan with pleasure, letting him encourage you, letting him set a pace for you.

It doesn’t take long, your moans becoming more desperate, he’s quick to discard of his gloves, cold hands finding their way inside your coat, under your shirt, gripping harshly at your breasts.

The contrast of warm and cold makes you gasp, pulling back to look at him, cheeks flushing when you see the look in his eyes. Primal desire, the only good thing to exist out of his darkness is his want for you, and you start to see the reality of this bond you share. This curse to be consumed by darkness, the inability to prevent it.

He’s working at your pants, admiring you, the life that comes to your face in the heat of the moment, the wildness in your eyes that is wanting and waiting for his next move.

You sit back, letting him slide your pants down to your ankles, exposing your bare ass to the cold elements. He frees himself from his own pants, pulling you to sit on him once again, moaning at how wet you are, grinding yourself against his cock, hard and twitching. He kisses you again, grabbing your hips and guiding you to grind yourself against his length, the feeling has your eyes rolling shut, cold and hot, soft and hard. Until finally, he guides himself inside of you, stretching ever so slightly, you moan, arms wrapping around his neck for support as he lowers you onto him.

He doesn’t stop until you bottom out, making you take all of him, giving you only a moment to adjust before he lifts you, slowly, his cock sliding out of you at a pace that makes you ache.

You moan, feeling him twitch inside of you. His jaw is clenched, a display of his restraint. It makes you smile, devilment twinkling in your eyes as you squeeze, clenching around him. A choked gasp escapes his throat, eyes shifting.

He pushes you back, air forced out of your lungs in a gasp as you fall against he cold ground, the snow creeping inside your coat. He follows you, slotting himself between your legs, positioning himself at your entrance before he slides in, quick, forceful, a second gasp escaping you except there is no air left. Breathless.

He grabs your hands forcing them above your head, lips finding yours as he begins to thrust in and out of you, holding nothing back as he fucks you in the snow.

It feels so wrong, the exposure, the risk of being found from how loud you’re being, desperately wrapping yourself around him, trying to force yourself even closer.

He forces his tongue into your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as he bottoms out inside you, grinding his hips against yours. You can’t control the moan that escapes you, matched with a grunt that he can’t hold back. Your fingers squeeze his, fighting the overpowering feeling of pleasure, the way he is dominating you, the way he knows exactly how to please you.

He pulls back for air, letting you catch your breath, resuming a slow pace as he begins to pump in and out of you. “Fuck, look at what you do to me.” He talks you through it, eyes locked with yours. “Do you feel me inside of you?”

You’re breathless, unable to respond until he squeezes your hands, prompting you to say something, anything. “Fuck, yes.” You love how wrecked you sound, voice thick with lust for him, and you love how he melts at the sound of it. “I love when you fuck me like this.”

“I know you do, baby.” He lowers himself to embrace you, releasing one of your hands. He cradles your head, pulling you flush against him, letting you finally embrace him. “You always take it so well.”

You feel weightless, clinging to him as he fucks you nice and slow, his lips at your ear. “You like scaring me like that?” He asks, accompanied by a harsh thrust, “You like pissing me off so I’ll fuck you like this, don’t you?”

And there it is, the agony he promised to pay you back with, his hips snapping to meet yours as he picks up his pace, knocking the air out of you with every thrust. You’re speechless, mouth agape as you lose awareness, all you can feel is him and the intense pleasure he’s giving you.

“Answer me.” All you can do is moan, a strangled cry as you struggle with the pleasure, eyes starting to roll back. But that doesn’t satisfy him, his teeth sinking into your earlobe, pulling a cry of pleasurable pain from the back of your throat. “You love pissing me off, don’t you?”

“Yes!” You don’t care how desperate you sound, voice whiny and laced with pleasure, “Yes, daddy. I love it.”

He hums, teasing you, teeth replaced with soft kisses, but he maintains his pace, fucking into you until you feel your legs begin to shake. You can feel him smile against your skin, “There you go baby, you gonna come for me?”

You can feel an orgasm building, your body hot and your pussy pulsing with pleasure. All you can do is curl into him, mouth finding his skin, biting down as an orgasm overtakes you, he moans at the feeling, you clench around him as you come, teeth sinking into his neck. He doesn’t stop though, fucking you through it, chasing an orgasm of his own.

And as you come back to reality, your pleasure subsiding, you help him through his, just like he had done for you. “Come for me,” You whisper against his skin, clenching around him over and over, moaning at the pleasure it brings you. “Come inside me, baby.” Your voice is soft, gentle, placing soft kisses against his skin. “You’ve been so brave, so strong. Now relax for me.”

His voice is broken as he moans, “Oh god,” His grip around you tightens, he’s almost there, you can feel how desperate he is. “Keep talking.”

You’ve experienced this with him a few times, praise is so uncommon for him that his body doesn’t know how else to react except finding pleasure in it. You love making him so weak, so desperate, “You protect me so well, make me feel so safe.” A kiss to his throat, you hear him gasp softly, “But you fuck me even better.” You moan, this feels so wrong, so dirty, the way his cock is pumping inside of you, the way he is about to fall apart on top of you. “Come inside me, James.”

That does it, a harsh groan tearing from his throat as he stills on top of you, you can feel his warm cum spilling inside of you, but he continues to thrust, determined to release everything he has.

And then he’s kissing you, your eyes futtering closed as he finishes inside of you. Riding out his high, he continues to fuck you, his hands rough as they find your waste, pinning you against the ground. And for a second time, he comes inside of you, using you for his pleasure, fucking his frustration into you.

It isn’t until he’s fully spent that he finally stops, pulling out, his eyes locked on yours as he bends down to lick you clean. It turns you on again, his mouth is warm, your legs twitching to wrap around his head and trap you there. But he just kisses you instead, once, twice, lips lingering on your pussy just to torture you before he’s pulling away, a cocky smile on his face as he starts to pull your clothes back up your legs.

You’re suddenly cold now, watching as he fixes his clothes, he looks exhausted, and you want nothing more than to embrace him and lay back down in the snow.

But the jet is here, the sound of the engine getting closer and closer, you give him a teasing smile as you gather your things. The way he looks at you tells you this is far from over, he isn’t done with you, a silent promise as he takes your hand, guiding you over to the jet as it lands.

The extraction team boards you quickly, the medic examines you for frostbite and dehydration. For reasons unknown to them, you do seem dehydrated, slightly delirious. They radio HQ requesting the med bay be ready for your arrival. But for now, they give you water and a blanket, allowing you to sit and strap in for the ride home.

Bucky lays his head on your shoulder, and it isn’t long until he’s fast asleep.

Your heart aches, a longing to wrap him up and hide him away from the world overcomes you, you stretch your legs out and let him lay his head in your lap, the blanket hiding him from view.

You stroke his hair, letting him finally rest.  

---------------------------------------

Masterlist

Like, Reblog, Share. It helps out a lot, thanks :)

[twilightprince101]

Fire Emblem Fates: Conquest REWRITTEN

I recently decided to replay Conquest after years of not even thinking about it, and I've been having a lot of fun! It's my first time playing on Classic/Permadeath, so learning the intricacies of the system for the first time is really fun!

Only thing is that, now as someone aiming for a Creative Writing bachelors and having experience editing... wow the story is not written well. Conquest has its moments, but there is a LOT of missed potential.

But that's the key word here: Missed Potential. For Conquest's story, it had the chance to be really good. The bedrock for an amazing story was all there--you side with the Obviously Evil King because you love the family that raised you and want to rescue them from their abusive father. But with just how blatantly evil King Garon is, Lilith being completely absent from the plot (despite showing up in Chapter 7) and Corrin's honestly irresponsible method of conducting himself in a War Zone, it's hard to see the gold under the grime.

So I thought, "Hey, I'm aiming to be a developmental editor for authors and have experience dabbling in editing already. How about we try using those skills on Conquest?"

And thus, Conquest Rewritten was born!

I'm going to do my best to utilize all of the elements currently present within the game to draw out a more impactful story. This means that there will be no new assets (artwork, voice acting, maps) added in. Every chapter and map will still be the same gameplay-wise, every major event will proceed as it originally did. The only difference is how it is done. The job of a developmental editor is to polish the original story, not create a new one after all!

If you're interested, feel free to come along for the ride! At the moment, Chapters 1-7 have been edited to a point I am satisfied with (though 1 and 6 didn't need any major revisions). I'll likely be releasing edited chapters in batches like this in the future. I'm currently busy with University work, so keep in mind that I might not update too often.

Either way, thank you for reading! Click the links below if you want to get to reading, click the "read more" link to see an example of a scene and how I'm conducting this!

Hope everyone has a nice day! And remember: Only you can forge a fate that's to your liking~

GO TO THE INDEX ->

GO TO CHAPTER 1/PREFACE ->

[Original text of the first lines of Chapter 5, where Hinoka and Ryoma explain the Faceless with clearly prejudiced language against Nohrians, and Corrin does not fight back against that language despite growing up in Nohr his entire life]

[Rewritten text, where Livéle (stand in for protagonist), after hearing that same language, pushes back against them calling Nohrians "evil" and setting clear boundaries for herself, standing up for her Nohrian siblings]

[sentinel-kinjo]

"The Game of Life", Tsurugi Kinjo Centric

Hi, Tumblr community. You may recognise me as sentinel.kinjo on instagram, and some of you may know me as Psycho Police on discord. Regardless, I am here, and I figure this is the best way to share my writing, as there is no chance in hell that I'm waiting for an AO3 account.

I aim to post my works often, here. :)

-

This fanfic is pure Tsurugi angst, and was a practice in using extended metaphors to convey a message. Hope you lot enjoy.

Word Count: 1,159 words

Characters: Tsurugi Kinjo. Juu Kinjo (mentioned), Yamato Kisaragi

Summary: Surely, there is a reason as to why Tsurugi only loses chess games these days.. Does he ever put up a fight? Or is something greater stopping him?

0:57 ————|——— -2:10

A pawn can always take on a queen, if necessary.

To win at any cost.

Efficiency yields the bloodshed they turn a blind eye to. 

Pushing the pawn forward, one space at a time to stare upon the ivory heart of the queen, while his unused comrades make their undignified exeunt from the world. Their heads were never graced by digits that forced their hand. No. They were less experienced, unmoved and awaiting the bishops, the rooks and knights with blades that cut fingertips that slid closer to them.

Yet still, the pawn kept moving forward, avoiding his fate by luck alone. The wrong place at the wrong time, and suddenly, his imperviousness superseded his meekness.

His team dropped around him, infested by those who absorbed goodness and light through blackened hearts. You don't know the full story. When you saw that interview, you saw the grace of someone calm, moving forward without a tear in his eyes. His shoulders were still, mouth dry, holding back bile at the news of someone else having fallen. It was all in the name of efficiency. This pawn was the best one, how puny and weak it seemed didn't matter so, as long as it trudged into the next square. A broken spirit meant nothing if it was never discussed beyond mild utterances.

You don't know what happened that day, the day where birds sang a solemn, tuneless song from above to fill the thick air. Everyone was saved, every hostage was unharmed, thanks to Tsurugi Kinjo, who cried in his first interview, uncertainty and fear bubbling into screams of guilt - I did it, I did it, why won't you hear me

The recording was deleted. No harm, no foul, no one the wiser for it, no one the more knowing than any other under the beauty of blissful ignorance.

The camera was burned, the camera was thrown away, and he was fed his lines so quietly, until only his voice was heard - the closest taste of autonomy was drunk with salt-tears that no one was ever privy to in the linear nature of time. But it would replay in his mind again and again, punishing him for his transgressions in an endless loop, an undeletable, untitled recording.

But he did the right thing. The eyes of the law shone down on him, beaming and congratulating him for succeeding. The terrorists were all dead, there was one left standing amongst the defenceless. The crowds urged him to carry on, his rehearsed, stern expression making headlines as the youngest up-and-coming police officer. There were no cries of injustice as long as Tsurugi succeeded. Pawn, child, whatever- as long as he stood a chance, they would push him again on the board, let alone the cracks, hair-thin against his surface.

Reminders of the battles he fought and the battles he won, ranking rising ever higher for the jerky actions he took, akin to the marionette on a string, or two, or eight. God, he sobbed; what he couldn't control was his only source of freedom - for no strings could manipulate them until he had none left to cry. Tear stricken lines on his cheeks replaced by dirty scars, slashed close to thin cheekbones. Pawn, child, whatever. He was what was left before victory's grasp, the closest one defending the king, or the Chief of Police.

How cruel, he wished someone would cry.

How cruel is it that an all-powerful king should send his pawn to fight his battles.

But he was alone again on the battlefield, battered and bruised until he was nothing.

Tsurugi saw nothing of himself, his hands were not his, his head a scrambled mess of shapeless thought, hopelessly unarranged for as long as eternity was allowed to be.

Tsurugi was numb, his body filled with hissing and wailing static - but still made to move. His mouth was static-filled as well, following orders like the good soldier he was. But what is a good soldier or a good person, if all they are is the culmination of the rules they are contracted to follow, unable to cross the dotted line? What is a good person if they are fearful of the consequences of retreating, rejecting, contesting?  

He will be remembered as such when he is dead, a calculated incentive to let the good die on around him while he waits his turn, kneeling and trembling before the also defenceless queen.

Tsurugi wanted nothing more than to lie back and let the war-torn world live on, beyond the point of no return he feared most. His good persona was rewarded with prestige, honour, another board to survive alone.

 They died, again - same white, innocent pieces collapsed and bleeding, choking their final song of apologies, regrets and everything in between.

Tsurugi had to watch as he abandoned them for retribution's sake, to make those he couldn't hurt once pay for their sins, their misdeeds circling them to the path of the grave. One down, two down, three down and four, until his own hands were coated in their residue, reminding him of the price he had to pay.

An eye for an eye, a death for a death. That was Tsurugi's motto, and how infamously revered it was amongst the newly damned who fell by his index point. He was kept alive in the dog-eat-dog (or pawn-eat-pawn) world to win - his destiny was set and decided by his strings - unhandled, they still danced to his father's discordant melody. An eye for an eye, a death for his death. Everyone's motto as a police officer, and everyone nodded with glazed over eyes, guns meticulously raised in the same position to unite and confront those who opposed.

Tsurugi joined and imposed the same until the fallen begged for mercy - lives beyond pawns like his. To save what is dear to them outside, to protect a friend, to help someone escape alone, God, make it stop.

Chess is supposed to be easy. One side was yours, the other belonged to your opponent. One side was light, one side was dark, malignancy and altruism decided in advance between them. One evil, one good.

The shades of the boards were polarised, Tsurugi's fingers skidding between the boundaries of good and evil down to the minute gradient separating them.

Alas, he was made a mockery of. Blackeneds were not Blackeneds, and the innocent were soon damned to hell, breaking Tsurugi.

Hairline fractures came in black, seeping and bleeding from his eyes, his mouth, when he pulled the trigger to end it, to cut the strings that jerked him up - to kill the deserved, when he was one all along.

Chess is supposed to be easy, and yet..

"I win again, Kinjo.. You're making this way too easy on me, you definitely could have won this game.. a while ago, now."

"Sorry. I just.. It doesn't feel right. Having a pawn go up against a queen.."

A pause.

"It's cruel."

3:07 ———————| -0:00

[digitalstickzac]

Personal thoughts on: Fallout New Vegas DLC 1/4 - Dead Money

I have started a new FNV playthrough and am going to 100% everything, which included replaying the DLC. Now that I've finished it, I can take my time on a repeat playthrough and thoroughly explore the new areas. I will add onto these reviews after playing through them. Now for Part 1 - Dead Money. (Spoilers below the cut)

QUICK SYNOPSIS

Courier 6 receives a radio broadcast inviting them to the Sierra Madre's grand opening - a paradise away from the clutches of the old world and safe from Nuclear Warfare, a place to let go and begin again. Rather than get a paradise the Courier will be in a fight for their lives as they are forced to survive the horrors that await them.

OVERALL PRESENTATION

DM has my second favorite design out of all the DLCs. The Art Deco is a beautiful contrast to the Futurism Design of the Mojave, combined with heavy red colour pallet. Despite being abandoned and left to the elements the Sierra still looks amazing.

GAMEPLAY

I do like how the game forces you into a fight-for-your life for the entirety of the DLC's runtime. No fast travel, no waiting or resting, you need to move fast and react faster. I enjoy having to scavenge and look around for supplies as every bit helps and going into the DLC with a Level 30 Courier opposed to Level 25 and putting skills into MELEE and SURVIVAL made my run more enjoyable this time. The Exploding Collar and Ghost People were a nice addition at first but quickly got annoying, especially when you have to manage both at the same time.

STORY

DM tells a beautifully tragic tale of the inhabitants - past and present - that reside in the Sierra Madre. Sinclair wanting to build a safe sanctuary for the love of his life Vera Keyes but instead created a tomb that would be his and hers demise. Near the end where you hear Vera plead to escape from the Sierra and beg for forgiveness, Sinclair's message to Domino and the ending you can get if you read the message hits hard and well.

Father Elijah is a well written villain and at times can be chilling with how spiteful and angry his tone, wording and delivery can be. The Courier is expendable and is treated as such, we are not the first and could potentially not be the last victim that came to this death trap.

Christine having gone through a constant nightmare of getting his vocal cords torn out and replaced over and over and still having the courage to want to finish the job and kill the man who had destroyed her life. Getting her voice back and working together to open the Vault is beautiful.

Dean Domino... I'll be honest I don't care much for him. He is well written and has a few good lines but I am indifferent.

God / Dog's journey from two enemies who hate each other to coming to a middle ground and becoming one is a feels great journey that I still enjoy doing.

FINAL NOTES

I initially dreaded replaying this DLC because of the weapons / equipment removal, the Collar and the toxic cloud but after getting over that initial hump I still love coming back to the Sierra and reexpericing it all over again. Also I killed Elijah with the Holorifle he gives you at the start of the DLC, giving him another example of a bad choice he has made.

[game-boy-pocket]

Well, I beat Nickelodeon All-Star Brawl's story mode.

I'll say this, it's on the repetitive side, since you essentially have to clear the campaign four and one third times to get the actual ending. Not much changes between your attempts. There's three worlds. And the first two worlds have two potential bosses, I think the one you fight is random. But then the boss of the final world is always the same, except on your final time playing through the campaign for the true ending.

One thing breaking up the repetition though is that the characters seem to have unique dialogue for every dialogue exchange, I wasn't really expecting that. Fully voiced even, though to be honest, some of the voice acting is weak. Billy West's Ren and Stimpy reminds me of current day Marge Simpson, and none of the lines are delivered quite right. But still, it adds replay value to the main campaign. Though it would be very difficult to hear ever piece of unique dialogue possible, as you have very little control over which characters you unlock in the story, and you have no choice but to start as Spongebob first, and unlock Patrick first.

All that said, I had a fun time with the story mode. I'll come back to it a few times, because I want to clear it with everyone. But I think i'm going to put the game down until the first patch comes out, the Switch version seriously needs the performance enhancer, the load times are unbearable and he FPS stinks, especially if you're in the campaign mode HUB and you buy the decorations that Gary is selling.

Im one of the people that thought NASB1was a perfectly serviceable game, so I would have been happy if they had just continued adding new content to that, but, very shitty roster cuts aside, this game is an improvement in almost every way... again though... if you want this, either don't get it on the switch, or wait until you hear what the first patch fixes.

[bronskibeet]

For as long as i live i think space channel 5 part 2 is gonna be my "comfort game"... i'm not even especially good at it i haven't managed to 100% perfect clear any level but even so I manage to find something new to appreciate every time I dust it off for a replay. in the second level as you rescue the kids playing instruments you can hear each instrument added to the mix one by one. whenever you're playing drums, guitar, etc. you can hit different directional keys for different animations. I recently noticed that depending on which lines you mess up (if you do mess up) the structure of the levels change very slightly to ease up on you which is cool.

despite everything ridiculous about the game & how corny the english voice acting is, the final bossfight sequence always makes me :') a little

[sarahsinwonderland]

would you lie with me and just forget the world // carly sloan

Carly had been sitting in her dorm room when she got the call. The call that stopped her world. Her father’s voice on the line, along with people screaming all around him. She only had to hear ‘Marcus’ and ‘injured’ before she was standing up and grabbing everything within arms reach to throw into her duffel. Her roommate had turned to look at her and the way Carly looked must have been enough for Cecilia to be scared. ‘Bug, you need to come home.’ As if she would have stayed while her best friend, the only person other than Shawn who knew her better than anyone, was hurt. She said ‘I love you’s’ before she threw her keys at Cece. 

“I need you to drive to the airport. Please. Take my car, use it, I just...” She couldn’t break. Marcus. Think of Marcus. Cece nodded and as soon as they both had shoes on, Carly grabbed her bag and they left. Her dad sent her the ticket he had bought her and by the time she hit TSA, she had 20 minutes til boarding. When she was sitting alone in the bursting terminal, that’s when she called Lexie.

“Mommy...mommy how bad?”

“It’s bad. Callie and Link are working on him now.”

Carly forced most of the tears away, wiping the few stray ones that had fallen. “C-can you tell Shawn to pick me up? We’re leaving in 30 minutes.”

After hanging up with her mom and boarding the plane, she had found her seat, the first class window seat, right near the front of the plane. Her bag stuffed underneath the seat in front of her and her head back, hands rested on her stomach as she reminded herself to breathe. 

Until she heard it.

Next to her, the man was watching ESPN, in particular, a recap from the game came on and showed a replay of the game. Carly knew she shouldn’t have looked. But she did.

And she immediately grabbed the air sick bag from the seat back pocket and got sick. 

Not from the image or some weird unexplained phantom pain, but from the sureness that her best friend would likely never make it pro like he had dreamed of for years. From knowing that her best friend would wake up, in pain and mad.

But he sure as hell wouldn’t be alone. An hour later and she was bolting from her seat, bypassing everything and walking out of the airport to the arrivals, seeing her twin standing by his car. A deep breath and a moment to steady herself and before she could say a word, his arms were around her. 

“Let’s go.” She nodded into his shoulder and got into the car, putting on her seatbelt and stuffing the bag under her feet. Her brother drove well over the speed limit, getting them there in an astonishing 7 minutes, less than half the time it should have taken them. But before she knew it, she was running, actually sprinting, through the hospital to get to the place she knew they would be. 

The first one she saw was Nico and he immediately wrapped her in his arms. Her breath was coming out in pants but her arms wrapped tightly around him. She had grown up around them. Nico and Levi were the closest she got to a second set of parents aside from Meredith and Derek. She tightened her hold, pressing her face into the shoulder of his sweatshirt and finally letting go. 

She had held it in for so long, the fear, the pain, the...the agony. She let it all go now, her sobs coming harder and faster. Soon Levi had joined his husband and she was being held by her best friend’s parents, soothed and comforted.

Hours later, she was curled in the corner, her iPad in her lap and the Apple pencil in hand as she journaled every feeling in an attempt to not to think about looking up the video or the news or anything. Nico had turned the TV’s to some kid’s channel and she had spent the first 30 minutes watching some show about cartoon dogs with Australian accents. It was oddly calming. 

When Link and Callie came out, she stood, wringing her hands and standing a distance away before Levi waved her over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. When they were shown to his room, Carly held back her gasp. Her best friend. He looked...he looked nothing like her Marcus. This Marcus was still and silent. Her ray of sunshine was never still. She joked that he would just burst if made to sit still. 

But still she moved to the side with his good arm and sat in the chair, knees pulled up to her chest and grabbed his hand. 

She didn’t move. She was like that when he woke up. Just sitting beside him, asleep with her head against her knees and his hand in her own. 

[hirazuki]

Hi! Re: the fic writer ask game, what about 1, 42, 49, 14 please?

Hi!! I don't think I actually reblogged the writing ask yet -- I was absolutely planning to once I got home for the day for good -- but you totally anticipated me and I am absurdly delighted 😂💕

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

Probably A Step Faster -- it's a very self-contained one-shot which incorporates pretty much all themes/tropes that I'm drawn to, and is a good example of how I like to balance adherence to canon with canon divergence; skirting that line is one of my favorite things. It's also one of my more recent fics, so it gives a sense of what my current writing voice is like, as well as my habit of switching POVs and my preferred way of enjoying romance/shipping dynamics.

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

The two that come to mind immediately are: one on my Bleach longfic, where someone said that if they didn't know better, they'd have thought the mangaka himself wrote it; and one on the fic I linked in the previous question, that said they keep coming back to reread it. But literally any comment that someone enjoyed what I wrote will replay in my head for weeks ♡

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

Ahaha, I have so much that's in varying states of WIP-ness, but since you're here for the Tolkien, that's what we'll go with. Full disclaimer, it still needs a ton of work ^^;

It takes a breath and a half for recognition and the beginnings of wariness and rage to replace the shock in Maedhros’ eyes of finding someone else skulking in the shadows, but that span is more than enough for Mairon to conclude what Feanor’s eldest must be doing here.

He hates Feanor and his brood – for their obstinance, for the obstacles they have ever proven themselves to be, for the crafting of those miserable jewels that set madness ablaze in all but a few and stole everything from him – but he hates the Valar more.

So, he closes his eyes – perhaps not wise given his once-time prisoner is standing before him; he was not involved in his torment or his hanging, but though he doubts Maedhros grants him the courtesy of that distinction, he also knows this elf with the intimacy of blood and bone upon rock and wind; knows that for all his ruthlessness, he is pragmatic; for all that he is murderer and kinslayer, he still, somehow, clutches to the shreds of principle – and casts his senses out from his body.

It is a simple matter, to find them. He knows them intricately, having lived under their cold, searing light for centuries. He would know them anywhere. He could not forget them, even if he tried.

(He has tried.)

“Third tent on your right,” Mairon says in a low voice. “That blue one.”

Maedhros does not thank him, and Mairon does not wait.

He turns his back – and if that is yet another unwise decision, it is merely the latest in a long line; he has been acting out of character since waking up with salt water in his mouth and seaweed in his hair and loss in his throat and soul – and continues his escape from the camp.

“They’ve put the fire out!” He hears a new voice whisper. “We don’t have much time until – brother, who was that?”

Mairon tenses.

“No one,” Maedhros says after a heartbeat, his voice even; unaffected, to all ears but those who heard every shade of raw inflection in his chords for thirty years. “They’re this way; come.”

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?

Hmm, I guess anything that is darker/"problematic" (like idk, rape or very dark/graphic torture)? I have no problem with that kind of content itself at all, but dislike when writing for those things becomes excessive and slips into melodrama, for the sake of shock value, especially at the expense of stuff like good characterization. OH AND REDEMPTION. Omg, I have come to greatly dislike the trope of redemption as I've grown older, because too often I find that it either defangs the character to make them more palatable, or it has this very preachy, holier-than-thou approach about it, particularly with regard to the concept of "deserving," that just leaves the atheist in me me feeling all slimy and gross.

[app-oh-sigh-oh-pieces]

there is no perfect version of 999

I originally played 999 as part of the Nonary Games edition on Steam. I really enjoyed it, but I found the Adventure / Novel distinction annoying. In Adventure mode, you can see the art better and almost all text is voiced, but you're going to miss a lot of context. In Novel mode, you get more context, but you're going to be sitting there reading in silence a long while.

The port of VLR handled this better by deciding how the game would display for every line of dialogue in advance.

I tried to watch a playthrough a voice actor did, hoping the narration would help the experience, but they turned on Adventure mode immediately and their cohost kept stumbling on puzzles in a way that was painful to watch. But in the comments I saw someone say that the DS version handles this split better, with one screen being Adventure and the other being Novel.

And checking out the DS version, it is a lot more straightforward to follow in that aspect! No worrying that I'm missing something important, no text covering up the picture, no... voice acting, no... checkpoints, no... auto-advance...

Okay, seems like there are some tradeoffs.

My ideal version of 999 would have:

High-def text for ease of reading

Flowchart unlocked only after you've reached an ending—it would show branch points off of what you've currently seen, but not where that branch point goes until you've gotten there

Auto-advance toggle (holding down a button does not count, that's physical work)

Adventure and Novel either displayed simultaneously or swapped intelligently

FULL voice acting. Narrator too.

The narrator being voiced is important to me because this game has a lot of wordy exposition and frankly, if I wanted to read a novel, I would prefer to read a novel—the ink and paper type. I found it legitimately difficult to stay engaged for the long stretches of time between escape rooms, even though I cared about the plot, because my options were to click a button every time I finished reading a line (oof ouch my hand) or to hope that I processed the text in the time it was on the screen.

But wait, isn't there a good reason in-game that the narrator isn't voiced?

Yes, there is. And I know that reason. But I think I have a solution.

Major spoilers under the cut for the true endings of Nine Hours Nine Persons Nine Doors and Virtue's Last Reward.

The reason the narrator in 999 isn't voiced is because the voice itself would be a spoiler for a major twist. The game is narrated by the child version of Akane Kurashiki, and even if a player didn't work out that it was the same voice actress, it would still be deeply odd, not knowing the twist, that it was being narrated by any child.

But my solution bypasses that entirely: Recast old Akane from VLR with an actual older woman using a naturalistic voice, and use the new actress for both 999's narration and old Akane's VLR dialogue.

Why old Akane? Well, time is already screwy, so why would an older version of her be any stranger than a younger one? An older person sounds like a suitable narrator in a way that a child doesn't, and it would be easy for players to assume the devs just wanted someone who wouldn't be mistaken for a member of the cast—Lotus, the oldest woman, is in her 30s-40s.

Why recast? Because a narrator needs to sound like they aren't putting on a voice, and no shade to Cindy Robinson, this wasn't the direction she was given, but I can tell she doesn't naturally sound like an old lady. And you'd want to give people the closure of hearing the same voice in the next game to cement that it really was Akane.

But what about the reveal? Excellent question. When the reveal happens, the voice acting switches to child Akane and continues for the rest of the game. In my dream version, upon clearing the game you'd unlock spoiler narration and could replay with child Akane the whole time.

A similar thing in reverse could be used to voice Sigma in VLR, though you'd only need to swap his dialogue voice and not his narration (because he still is mentally a young man).

[sweet-art-o-mine]

First Date HCs [Arthur Morgan x F!Reader - RDR2]

[[A/N: Author Allie here! Nobody requested this (I do currently have an Arthur ask in the inbox rn, I see you there anon 👀 I’ll get to you soon) but I reinstalled and have been replaying RDR2 for like the 6th time lately, so I am in SUCH an Arthur Morgan mood. Here’s some free headcanons about this gentle cowboy asking a female reader (assumedly one who does not live at camp with him) out on a date for the first time. 

Hope you enjoy!]]

This man is big. This man has killed many people with his bare hands or his knife. This man is scary and tough and strong as all hell. This man will blush like a lovestruck teenager the first time you lock eyes from across a street

He finds any reason to go over and say hello, just to hear your voice and get your name. Hi ma’am, did you just shoot me? Because my heart stopped when I saw you- (no he would not say that, but he might think of some stupid pickup lines and then immediately chastise himself for being stupid in front of a lady)

Arthur has a major fear of rejection. Have you HEARD the comments he says to and about himself in the mirror in-game?? He calls himself an ugly bastard and says "no wonder they all leave you". He's terrified of spilling his heart and soul to somebody and having them reject him - even if they were very kind and gentle about it, it would still shatter him. 

So it takes him a while of liking you, of your smile plaguing his every thought and your laugh lulling him to sleep every night, for him to work up the nerve to even THINK about asking you somewhere. He has to spend lots of time getting to know you, falling ever deeper in love, in order to finally make the plunge and ask you on a date

And make no mistake, that's absolutely how he approaches this possible romance - he asks you out to go to the theaters, to see a play or listen to an old timey band on stage. He doesn't know a whole lot about what women like to do as a first date, so he thinks over a ton of options and will even ask Hosea and Dutch for advice on where to take you 

Mary-Beth probably overhears while reading a book nearby and immediately gasps and goes to tell the other girls about it, they forcibly get involved and give Arthur a ton of conflicting advice

Mary-Beth tells him to treat her like a queen, to be courteous and polite like a high society gentleman. Tilly tells him to be smooth, say some suave pickup lines to sweep his lady friend off of her feet. Karen tells him to just be himself. Mrs. Grimshaw comes by and shoos all the girls back to cleaning and sewing because damn it this camp isn’t going to keep itself functional! 

After they’re gone she tells Arthur to make sure his new love interest is okay with his life as an outlaw first and foremost, and he tells her there’s no way he’s opening up the date with ‘hi I’m a criminal wanna come do crime with me’

Even with their advice, he still ends up offering you several places so you can choose for yourself... "I was thinkin' maybe we could go see a play tomorrow.. or, or a picnic in the afternoon if you'd prefer!" 

If you suggest something less "feminine" (such as hunting, visiting the gun range, going to a bar, etc.) he would definitely be surprised, but also amused and relieved. Not only for your willingness to participate and help him out with finding something to do, but also because it's something he's much more accustomed to doing so he'd feel more at ease 

Although he would absolutely still be uncomfortable in general because he's so desperate to only show you the 'good' side to him, being the most polite gentleman he knows how to be

he's convinced he's a terrible, terrible man and he's incapable of being good to anyone for any reason... yet, some deeply buried part of himself is desperate for your approval. He wants you to smile at him and laugh at his silly jokes and bond with him over shared activities... 

A very affectionate man who has spent many years closing that side of him off to the world after his messy breakup with Mary. He would find SO many opportunities to be physically close to you in some way, line up the perfect change to lay his hand on top of yours or sit so close you're touching... but he wouldn't take any of them. He'd think about it nearly obsessively, but he is so unsure of what's okay to do and what would be pushing the boundaries of a first date, so he would do nothing at all 

Please hold his hand. He needs it. He might cry he needs it so bad 

The longer the date goes on, the more ecstatic he is. He feels giddy, all full of butterflies and blushing like a damn fool 

just because you seem to be enjoying yourself with him. Imagine that! You! A beautiful woman with a beautiful soul! Enjoying his company! Incredible. Something he never thought he’d see

He has such self esteem issues, if you complimented his outfit or his hair or his beard, or ANYTHING at all, he'd laugh it off sheepishly and meekly disagree with you. But if you're determined enough he might eventually accept a compliment from you with a giddy smile 

At the very end of the date, he takes you home and stops outside your house. There’s no way he’s gonna try to come in, not on the first date - he knows better. He's holding his hat in his hands, sheepishly toying with the rim and looking down at his boots like a lovesick kid. He feels like a teen all over again 

"Thank you... for.. For givin' me a chance." 

His eyes light up like the got damn SUN if you kiss him on the cheek after the date. He'll stutter. His face heats up so bad it's like a furnace in winter. He's a tomato. Someone get this man a glass of water I think he’s stopped breathing-

When he goes back to camp, some of the men and absolutely all of the ladies are there waiting with bated breath for the details like a wild group of wine aunts over for the holidays. They NEED the tea, they need to make sure their boy is getting treated like the king he is 👑 It makes him laugh that his family friends are so invested in his romantic life

He'll be thinking about you, about your date, about your smile and your laugh and your eyes and your everything, until he can see you again 

But he'll remember that first date for the rest of his life.