#how long is a day in saints row: the third

[warrenwoodhouse]

How long is the Day Cycle and Night Cycle in Saints Row: The Third? (Saints Row: The Third Guide) (Game Guides) (Guides)

Article by @warrenwoodhouse

The day and night cycle work differently in Saints Row The Third than it did in its predecessors in the series. The Sun in Saints Row The Third seems to remain in the exact same place in the sky during daytime cycles and the Moon remains in the same place as well during nighttime cycles.

During Act 1, the in-game time only changes when Missions and Activities are completed. During the rest of the game, the cycles shift from daytime to nighttime by completing Missions, Activities and Dying. The cash flow from the CASH app transfers money via Steelport Bank & Trust every 15 minutes real time while gameplay and free roam is active.

A full day in Steelport lasts 8 hours real time. That means that there is 15 minutes per hour with a slight variation during the nighttime cycle which only lasts every 5 minutes for cash transfer.

[megalony]

No Interruptions

This is another Eddie Diaz request from Anon, I loved writing this so much. My third post of the day, I'm on a writing high right now. Enjoy, thank you all for the constant requests and support.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefanthefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: Eddie has some time before his shift and he intends on spending it with his wife early in the morning. His son, however, has other ideas and Eddie starts to get desperate for his wife.

Enjoy.

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

A groan rumbled up Eddie's chest and past his lips when he checked the time on his phone. He turned off the alarm in advance and threw his phone back under the pillow where he left it during the night.

He wasn't looking forward to this. Two days on the trot; four shifts in a row where he could get a few hours of sleep in the bunker in between. God knows how many callouts he was going to see over the next two days.

But it was going to be two days away from Christopher. Two full days away from his wife, and when she looked like this, that felt like a crime.

He wasn't ready for a long shift away, he hadn't done over a fourteen hour shift in over two months and this past month it was starting to feel like he was finally living at home, not the station. Eddie didn't want that balance to shift back to where he worked at the station and visited his house.

He moved his hand that was stuck under the pillow and rubbed his eyes to try and wake himself up and get his mind going. But a smile curved at his lips when he felt (Y/n)'s fingers curl around his arm that had been laid over her chest in his sleep. She pulled his arm tighter around her chest and started to glide her fingers up and down his skin until he was shivering with goosebumps beneath her touch. And when she kissed his arm and peppered a trail up his bicep, he was leaning forward, groaning into her hair.

It was always hit and miss how they would wake up in a morning. Sometimes Eddie would wake up on the edge of the bed with Christopher wedged between them. Other times he had (Y/n) laid directly on top of him and he realised why he dreamed he was drowning because it was hard to breathe but he wouldn't have it any other way.

He liked these mornings the best, where he woke up with her wrapped up in his arms and a while before he had to get up and ready for shift. And when there was no little monster in the bed with them, mornings like this got even better.

"Do you have to go soon?" (Y/n) muttered the words quietly against his arm, her voice laced with sleep but her fingers were still running up and down his arm. And Eddie could feel her shuffling back until her back was moulded against his bare chest as if the minimal space between them was an ocean she wanted to disappear.

"Hm, I've got some time."

(Y/n)'s eyes shot open and a gasp tumbled past her lips when the arm she had been holding onto shot down to her waist and he rolled her over onto her back. She could feel herself laughing quietly when Eddie climbed over her and moved so he was kneeling between her legs. Both his hands planted down on the pillow beside her head and his teeth flashed in a sharp grin that made his eyes crease at the corners.

She brought her hands up to cup his face, smoothing her thumbs over his cheekbones as he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips.

"Afraid this has to go, though." Eddie leaned back and rested his weight on his heels before his hands slowly trailed down her sides until he could grab the hem of her shirt. It clung to her frame tight enough that there was nothing left to the imagination and when (Y/n) bit her lip but obliged and leaned up to let him peel it off, it was like he was taking off a layer of her skin.

He threw the small, flimsy material down on the floor and gave the cover a nudge until it fell off his back and crumpled to the bottom of the bed. He was starting to burn up already, they didn't need any extra layers on covering them.

While he took a moment to admire the view in front of him, (Y/n) took her chance to scrape her nails agonisingly slow over his skin, starting from his abdomen and she worked her way up until her hands were curved around his neck. Her fingers tickled the small hairs at the back of his neck and she sat up to meet him in the middle, moulding her chest against his before she pulled his lips down to hers.

(Y/n) could feel the fever behind his kiss and the way his fingertips dug bruisingly into her hips when she pushed her chest up against him just to irritate him and goad him further.

Her lips curved into a smile against his and when she pulled back (Y/n) sucked his lower lip between her teeth and have a small tug until she could feel the growl deep in his chest, rumbling through into her own.

Her fingertips slid away from the back of his neck and trailed their way back down the middle of his chest, covering every square inch that she would. Her plump lips left Eddie's and moved towards his razor sharp jaw and when she could feel him starting to quiver beneath her, she started to kiss down his neck.

The moment her teeth grazed against his neck about to leave a mark, Eddie grabbed her wrists that were near his abdomen and leaned his weight onto her. He pushed her down into the bed again and fell forward with her until his chest was moulded down against hers and her hands were pinned down to the mattress. He tried to keep some of his weight on his legs and arms so he wasn't fully crushing her beneath him but he could still feel every inch of her pressing into him. Even the curve of her small bump moulded perfectly against his lower abdomen.

"My turn." There was something demanding and authorative in his voice that was not to be messed with and all (Y/n) could do was turn to mush beneath his touch.

She barely had chance to gasp before Eddie smothered her mouth with his and let his tongue explore past her lips.

Wet, panting kisses were peppered along her neck and down the middle of her throat so every time she gasped or swallowed, Eddie could feel each movement. He let go of her hands and moved his fingertips across her sides and down the dips and curves to that special area just above her hips where (Y/n) was ticklish. He loved the way her stomach would pull in and she would jump against his touch when all he had to do was lightly trace the pad of his finger along her skin and it had her gasping and laughing beneath him.

"We won't be needing these any more." He hooked his fingers into the top of her underwear and shuffled back on his knees to remove them when (Y/n) lifted her legs.

She watched him throw the dark red lace onto the floor along with her top and a deep laugh rumbled past his lips when she pressed her feet against his hips and managed to push his boxers down rather easily from where she was laid on her back. If he wasn't going to let her sit up and do it manually, she had to get creative.

"I can't decide whether that's eager or impressive,"

"Make up your mind while you take them off."

(Y/n) quipped back, leaning up on her elbows a little so she could watch him lean up and roll them past his knees so he could kick them on the floor. When they were off, (Y/n) sat up and looped her arms back round his neck, desperate to be as close as possible.

"I'm gonna go with eager, but then again so am I." Eddie's hands groped at her hips, admiring the view in front of him now that there were no layers between them.

"Don't think you can last two days, Eddie?" She knew exactly what kind of reaction she got from using his name and as expected, something burned darker and deeper in his eyes.

She felt his hand move and his arm wrapped like an iron bar around her back just above her bum so he could reel her in and pull her closer. He held her so close and tight that he left her up and she had to move her weight onto her feet and the back of her legs to stay tall and close to him like this. Her hands gripped his shoulders to steady herself but she gasped when his other hand moved to grip the underside of her thigh before he pushed her back.

(Y/n) felt her back hit the headboard and her knees coiled up as Eddie shifted forwards onto her chest and kneeled between her spread legs like he always had and always would belong there.

"Don't think I can last two minutes, let alone two days," He gruffed back before their lips crashed together in a silent but deadly battle. He dug his nails tighter into her thigh and moved her leg to hook it around his hip so he could brace his hand on the wall behind the bed. The last thing Eddie wanted was to put all of his weight onto (Y/n) or give her bruises down her spine from the wooden headboard.

"Fuck, Eddie-"

"Mummy!"

"Shit! Shit, no Chris don't do this to me." Eddie buried his face in the crook of (Y/n)'s neck and sank his teeth down on the soft flesh. Praying Chris would settle himself back down and carry on sleeping just for a bit longer. This was the worst timing Chris had ever had, he couldn't shout out yet.

Not now. Now when Eddie needed (Y/n) too; he needed her badly.

"Mummy, help! Mummy!" Oh God, he was crying. He wasn't going to settle himself back to sleep or occupy himself with his books or games or tv in his room. Not when he was crying, he must have had a nightmare and if that happened he wouldn't settle or go back to sleep. He needed one of his parents in there to console him and make him feel better and calm him down.

"Fuck!" Eddie's hand clenched into a fist against the wall and he moved his head to press his lips against the side of (Y/n)'s head. "Why's he doing this to me? Blocked by my own kid."

"Mummy!"

"Sorry baby. I'm coming sweetheart." (Y/n) tilted her head up to kiss the side of Eddie's jaw when he shuffled back an inch to let her move even though he really didn't want to.

"Don't think I will be today,"

"Eddie!" She batted her hand against his shoulder when she pushed off the bed and scanned the floor quickly for something to wear. She couldn't very well walk into his room wearing nothing at all, that would only unsettle him even more.

The first thing (Y/n) grabbed happened to be one of Eddie's work shirts. A back t-shirt with the fire station logo and number in a circle on the left side of her chest. It barely covered her bum so she had to grab Eddie's boxers and slip them on as well but when she did she heard her husband groan and when she turned around, he was kneeling up in the middle of the bed staring at her.

Why did she have to look that good wearing his clothes? That shirt alone with nothing else on underneath was more than enough to drive Eddie crazy. He could see every ridge and curve of her body beneath it and she didn't even realise how she swayed her hips when she walked.

"That's teasing," He muttered defeatedly with his fingers dragging through his hair in a rigid motion.

(Y/n) could hear his harsh steps following her out of their room and she barely turned her head over her shoulder to see what he was doing before he reached out for her. His hand caught her chin and he tilted her head up so he could give her a searing kiss before he let her go.

"I need to get ready," Eddie spoke more to himself and he turned off into the bathroom when (Y/n) diverted down into Chris's room.

He was so close.

There was no way Eddie was going to last two days away when (Y/n) was stood there like that, burning her image into his eyes and leaving it on his brain. How could he go out on a call and focus when his wife was at home looking that good and he couldn't even touch her?

"Chris, I need to head off now. You be good for me and I'll be back Friday night, okay?" Eddie strapped his watch around his wrist before he crouched down beside the table Chris was sat at. He was still wearing his pyjamas and dressing gown, munching away on his cereal.

"Okay, love you."

"I love you too." With his hand pressed against the back of Chris's head, Eddie kissed his temple and leaned over to hug him before he got to his feet and looked over at (Y/n).

The sight of her stood there like that was enough to make Eddie growl and rethink going into work today.

She was still wearing his shirt and boxers which were glued rather shapely against her bum. And his shirt hung off her left shoulder as if giving him a sneak preview of what he was missing out on but it was the way his shirt was bunched up over her hip that made it hard to stay in control. He wanted to go over there and rip it over her head and drag the boxers down to her ankles.

A shiver rolled down (Y/n)'s spine when a familiar pair of strong arms coiled around her waist and she felt Eddie's chin perch on her shoulder. He pulled her back into his chest and lifted her high enough that she had to push up on her tiptoes to stay balanced against him.

The feeling of him breathing and sucking at her neck had her knees going weak but when she looked at the watch strapped on his wrist, she knew he was going to be late if he stayed. And Christopher was awake now, they couldn't exactly do anything without him hearing or noticing. He was an observant kid.

"You'll be late," She turned her head to look at him and he caught her lips in a kiss instead and she could feel his hands slip beneath her shirt. His palms pressed flat against the curve of her stomach before his fingertips traced lower and dipped into the waistband of his boxers that she was wearing.

Two days was going to feel like two years at this rate.

"Eddie, baby… you," Kiss. "Have to," Kiss. "Go."

Maybe she should walk him to the door to make sure he actually left. It wouldn't do him any favours to be late to work when he had a clean track record so far.

She turned around in his arms and have him a gentle nudge until he was walking backwards, his arms back around her waist with his elbows dug into her hips and his hands now cupping her bum beneath the underwear she wore. Her hands reached up to rub across his chest and she continued to nudge him backwards while he stole kiss after kiss from her lips like it was the last time he was going to see her and he was getting his money's worth.

"Don't wanna go,"

"Two days, baby. Then you're off all weekend and Chris is at his sleepover. No chance of interruptions, you'll be mine all weekend."

"Hm, but I want you now." The weekend felt so far away when Eddie had to leave her right now and stay at the station for the next two days. He had to get his head in gear and rush into uncertain situations with this image of (Y/n) at the forefront of his mind. He had to save people and clean the trucks and take a power nap in the back room of the station, all while (Y/n) danced across his mind and all he could have was her voice on the other end of the phone.

And even then, he knew Chris would steal the phone because he wouldn't go to sleep unless Eddie said goodnight to him over the phone when he was away at work.

"Go to work,"

Eddie moved one arm behind him to unlock the door and grab his keys from the lock. He stepped back over the threshold but when (Y/n) moved out of his arms, he held the doorframe and the door to prevent her from closing the door on him.

He waited until (Y/n) cupped his face in her hands and tugged him down to press a feverish kiss to his lips. She let him swipe his tongue across her lower lip, begging for entrance before she pulled back, mumbling a quiet 'I love you' against his lips before giving him a final nudge out the door.

Two days. Two whole fucking days.

How was he going to survive with that image burned into his mind and the desire bubbling away inside of him?

***

Leaning over the bed, (Y/n) pressed a lasting kiss against the top of Christopher's head and smoothed his curls down before she turned on the night light and moved back. He was that tired tonight that he didn't want to wait up for Eddie to come home from shift, he wanted to go to bed and sleep because he knew when his dad came home, he would come in and kiss him goodnight anyway.

She waited an extra second just to make sure he was asleep and settled before she turned on her heels and headed out of the room.

The door barely closed behind her before (Y/n) jumped back against it and gasped when a figure loomed over her in the dim light coming from the living room.

Eddie.

"Christ Eddie, what are you trying to do to me?" (Y/n) pressed a hand over her chest and grabbed his arm to steady herself. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and jumping up into her throat while the baby started to move from fright.

"You have no idea how long the last two days have been."

With that, Eddie's arms were around her waist and he was pulling her away from Chris's bedroom so they didn't wake him. He wasn't having anymore interruptions this time around. He had gotten so close the other day only for the plans to be ruined and he had spent the last two days desperate to get back home to his wife and take her to bed.

That was exactly what he was planning to do.

(Y/n) grinned and coiled her arms around his neck when his hands moved to cup the back of her thighs and he lifted her up off her feet. He hoisted her up in his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist so she was sat low on his hips. Able to feel every ridge of part of him and see what her image had done to him these past two days.

"No interruptions this time," It was a statement more than a plea or a request and (Y/n) could only nod in agreement before he was smothering her with his lips.

He kissed every inch of skin he could see and reach. Her neck, down her throat then back up to her lips, her nose, her cheek. He nibbled and then bit down harder on her jaw until she was moaning against his lips and gripping his neck tighter. She barely felt him move until she heard the bedroom door open and realise he was carrying her towards their bed.

"I missed you, Eddie. Can you guess how much?"

Her bum hit the bed with a thud and she took the initiative to lay down on her back and dig her heels into the dip on his lower back to pull him down with her.

"God, you're mine now." He groaned in her ear while he unhooked her legs from his waist so he could pull her underwear down so hard and fast (Y/n) heard a rip in the fabric. Looks like she wouldn't be wearing those ones again anytime soon. And they were his favourite pair too.

"Always."

"Let's try again, shall we?"

[strangersteddierthings]

February 1

rating: G cw: none prompt: Love is letting someone take care of you

It wasn't a lesson Eddie learned easily, or all that willingly. No one had cared for him after his Mama had died. Not for a long time after.

He dad likes to pretend he'd tried. When Eddie was feeling generous, he'd even say he agreed. His parents were so in love it was almost sickening. Losing her must have broken the part of his Dad that knew how to love fully. He didn't turn mean, not like some dads did, but he definitely cared more about his next scheme than he did about the kid that looked too much like his Mama.

Wayne taught him that people who care about you take care of you. They take care of you when you're barely nine and have burned yourself on the stove twice this week, even if you think you should have learned after the first time. They take care of you when you've been caught stealing candy from Melvald's, and skipping school, and flunking senior year (and then doing that again), and even when people accuse you of murder.

Wayne has taught him that people that really, really love you are there when you need them, care for you when you need them.

And Eddie's heart aches that no one seems to have taught Steve that.

Eddie's trying. He steps in to help with "babysitting" duties, especially when Steve looks particularly run down. He started inserting himself into the Platonic Soulmate thing Steve and Robin have going because he wants to be an established replacement Temporary Soulmate while Robin's at college. (Being fair, this was Robin's suggestion. She's worried about how he'll be when she's not around to look after him.)

He's started hanging out with Steve without Robin, too. They get along well, it turns out. Eddie loves to talk and Steve loves to listen. But, more importantly, Eddie's good at getting Steve to talk. As a rule in general, Eddie isn't a good listener, but he could listen to Steve read him the phone book and never be bored. He tries to take an interest in Steve's hobbies. He doesn't have the hand/eye coordination for basketball, or the lungs for swimming laps, but he does have the energy to keep going even when he's bad at those things.

Steve seems to appreciate it, if the soft smiles he gives Eddie is any indication.

And it's not all up hill. Steve's got hangups that seem to crop up when he thinks he's failed at something. He's got a quick temper but it's never physical anger. He's only ever yelled at Eddie twice, and being fair, that first was deserved. Eddie's pushed too far, in his desire to help, not knowing the limit yet.

Eddie gets pissy, too, he's no saint, either.

There's been no fight they haven't gotten through, though.

But the lesson, the thing Wayne was really trying to teach him, comes when Steve gets sick.

No one but Robin has ever seen him sick. She's off at college now and it's just Eddie, fumbling to make soup and not dribble water down Steve's front while he holds the glass Steve is too weak to and Eddie forgot to get some straws at the store.

Steve tried to get him to leave only once. It was the third day in a row Eddie was there.

"You don't have to be here, you know," Steve had whispered, throat still feeling like he ate glass.

Eddie just met his eye and gave a small smile, "I do know."

Steve looks surprised, which is ridiculous, because he had to of known the answer Eddie would give. But then that surprise softens to a new look. Sappier, eyes a bit wetter, and Steve must not want him to see because his whole face scrunches with how quickly he shuts his eyes.

Eddie sets the sleeve of saltines down on the night stand and reached for Steve's hand. Just to give it a squeeze.

He finds he can't take his hand back when Steve tangles their fingers together and drags their joined hands to his face, where Steve rests his feverish forehead against Eddie's hand.

Steve teaches him that, yes, love is caring for someone. But sometimes, it's also letting someone else take care of you.

-

@steddielovemonth @i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss

[chaos-has-theories]

It's here! My TLT Hemospectrum chart. Turns out I'd even finished the description, it just needed light editing.

One day I said to my roommate "Gideon is just so rustblood coded" and then I said "Harrow is definitely a blue blood" and three days later I had this. I'm… sorry? But don't get me wrong, I am deadly serious. THE BUTTS (colors) MATCH

Blank Hemospectrum chart by Rotommowtom, found here. Explanation/Image ID below.

Let's start from the bottom, shall we?

Gideon Nav: candy-red Images: GtN cover; astrological cancer symbol/Sign of the Signless; the scratched out Ninth on Gideon's chapter skull Text: "incongruously red hair" "mutant blood" "the Signless" Additional lines to Rust Class (for her servitude) and Bronze class (for her specific colors)

And, well. She's lesbian Jesus. Just like Karkat and Kankri. Sth sth Gideon's first act being unlocking her cuffs sth the sign of the signless sth Gideon on that fence vs the Sufferer in his Saint Sebastian getup. Quoth also my roommate: "Gideon wearing glasses and her hood is like Karkat greytyping"

Gideon is incredibly Rustblood-coded. Just look at her eyes and hair and the colors on her book.

But it really is no more than coding. Because very clearly, she's actually mutant candy-red! The Signless. She grows up without a Lusus parents and she is treated as a mutant and an outcast by the Ninth House. She's assumed to be at the bottom of the barrel when really she should be all the way at the top.

Rust Class: Second House Text: "A very common class, often used to serve and protect Highbloods, often has jobs tailored to Janitorial work, sometimes has Psychic Abilities" "Second-styled Cohort all scarlet and white" Title: Ranked Captain

The actual Rustbloods. Have you ever looked through the Dramatis Personae of GtN and noticed that the 2nd have seemingly no inherited title* whatsoever? Yeah. And obviously, their house color is red. Plus, compare how Judith only ever thinks she has any kind of cachet around the rest of the houses, even though her one attempt to pull rank fails miserably. ("A cohort captain don't rank higher than a Third official.")

(*Judith does get adressed as "Lady Judith" by Teacher once. Draw your own conclusions, but I think that might be generic towards a house heir with no other titles.)

Bronze Class: Fifth or Seventh? Text: "Are often Gifted with the Ability to Commune with Animals" "brown, long coated suit" (fifth); "'I agree', said her bronze statue of a cavalier" (seventh)

Gold Class: Eighth House Text: "Very often has Psychic Abilities, Often used as External Power Sources" "soul siphoner" "mustard blood" "mayonnaise uncle"; "Nona's eyes were a deep, warm gold" Title: Master Templar

This one I'm the most unclear on. By House colors, it would have to be the Fifth, but I also have reasons to place them higher up in the chart.

Additionally Protesilaus (non-puppeted version ) gets described as "bronzed and vigorous" and a "bronze statue" three times in row. As we've already seen with Gideon, though, I suspect that necros and their cavs can be placed in different Classes. There's 12 of them, after all, and only 9 Houses. I'm inclined to give this one to Pro, and maybe even Dulcie - she and Tavros have at least the wheelchair in common.

This is the one that struck me with lightning and had me go down this rabbit-hole in earnest. "Often used as external power sources". Did you mean: Soul Siphoning?

And: Gold blood gets derogatorily described as "mustard blood" on multiple occasions. Mayonnaise uncle, anyone?

Note that I'd consider placing Silas higher up on his own, but he patently does not have a noble title. Even Teacher just calls him "Master Octakiseron". Still, I've got a tentative line up to Teal for his "justice of the tome".

Olive Class: The Sixth Text: "Rarely having Psychic abilities. The Middle Class."; "nice normal olive" Title: Master Warden

There's an extra line here, linking Alecto's golden eyes to the idea of an external power source. (And Gideon's, of course. There's a theme about only the cavalier characters being Golden.)

Also, while one of the Third House colors is Gold, I have good reason to keep them further up this pyramid. In any case, it's mostly Corona who gets described as the "golden twin" (in GtN). See also this on the question of whether Corona has been used as Ianthe's power source since birth.

Jade Class: Fifth House? Text: "Oddly a very rare class. Tends to the Mother Grub and assists young grubs" "A strong relationship with both Tettares and Chatur" Title: Lady (and Seneschal) of Koniortos Court

This one was a bit more difficult, but Camilla is described as having "olive skin" twice (those being the only uses of the word in all three books). Also, just vibes-based, I asked around, and this was the result.

More importantly, maybe: "the middle class". You will find that noone below this line has a noble title, while everyone above does. Yes, everyone.

Slightly unclear here, except that Magnus and Abigail have the strongest parent vibes I've ever seen. Their whole house uses those parent vibes as political weapons, okay. Lipsticks, chainsaws, and how the fifth "skinned itself over with such airs of civilization…but they were spirit talkers, and speakers to the dead. And the dead were savage." Relatedly: "Abigail Pent blazed like a flare from a blue and Alien sun…. Abigail was soaking wet, wreathed in hot mistlike shimmers by spirit magic… A reek hit Harrow like a faceful of snow: water, brine, blood." Compare that to Kanaya's shiny rainbow drinker form.

I am also having thoughts about Nona being called a "green thing". Sth sth mother grub, and the ability to repopulate humanity.

Teal Class: Seventh House Text: "Often Legislacerators, and often deals with judicial issues"; "Her dress was a (concoction) of seafoam" Title: Duchess (and Knight) of Rhodes

See also sth sth representation of disabilty as seen in both Dulcie and Terezi, and potentially even how Cytherea causes Gideon's death, while Dulcie tells Harrow that she might still be saved. Compare to Terezi killing and then saving Vriska to save everyone… le shrug, as the kids say.

Colorwise perfectly correct, and a Duchess definitely belongs into the Bluebloods.

I don't know what to think about the "Judicial Issues" - hence the uncertain line connecting to Silas and the "judgement of the tome" - but admittedly Cytherea is at Canaan House to mete out her version of justice.

Cerulean Class: Ninth House Images: HtN cover Text: "Sometimes has the Ability to Mind control others"; "'You can control my body,' she said. 'You can read my thoughts.' 'No. Not remotely.'

Somewhat unclear. But the line about whether or not Harrow can control Gideon was always… hm. Is "borrowing perceptions" really so much different from mind reading? Besides, mind controlling Gideon is like Harrow's #1 activity starting in chapter one, even if she does it through considerable planning. And of course once we get into the permeability of the soul, looking at "your most intimate memories" is the least of your troubles.

Anyway, Harrow is just so blue-coded. It's her cover, her vibes, and listen: Teacher and Aiglamene call her "Your Grace". It's the correct style for a Bishop or Archbishop, but it's also solidly intriguing considering it's also used for Duchesses and Kings (real life) and Lyctors (NtN).

Indigo Class: Fourth House Text: "Often possesses high levels of Physical Strength and Nobility"; "blue hood". Title: Baron (and Knight) of Tisis

The Dreadful Teens wear blue. Strength, Nobility, Fidelity, and the Emperor.

Purple Class: Third House Text: "Highest Landdwelling Caste, keeps lowerbloods in check"; "Ianthe's pallid purple irises" Title: Princess of Ida

Violet Class: Third House Text: "Royal bloods that ensure the safety of the empress"; "deep, liquid violet"; "I won't tell her. You can't do this, doll, not now."; "1950s-style human greaser" Title: (Crown) Princess and Prince of Ida

Things get properly interesting here. Because yeah, blah blah, highest titles of the nobility, "royal bloods" and princesses; and Naberius' connection to pre-scratch Cronus Ampora.

But while Coronabeth's eyes consistently get described as "violet", Ianthe's are only ever "purple". Or occasionally "dying violets". "Violets on dialysis." Definitely not true violet, no matter how much Ianthe tries. Also, Ianthe "Gatekeep" Tridentarius loves to keep lowbloods in check. It's like her favorite thing.

To get our purples mixed up even more, it's the Fuchsias that traditionally fight with tridents in Homestuck. Tridents, Tridentarius, Trident Knife. Though of course -

Fuchsia Class: First House Text: "The Ruling Empress, has the power to enforce and influence all castes"; "Necromancer Divine, King of the Nine Renewals, our Resurrector, the Necrolord Prime" Title: The Emperor

Do I really need to explain that? He's the Emperor. Of course he's at the top of the pyramid. His "Stop" spell thingy is just the cherry on top. What else could there be to say?

…I'm SO glad you asked. Cherub time!

Alecto: Lime Green Images: green cherub spiral Text: "The dominant personality will then completely consume the other, integr8ting it in such a way that only one is left."; "Muse of Space"

John Gaius: Candy Red Text: "I mastered Death, Harrowhark; I wish I'd done the smarter thing and mastered Time."; "Lord of Time"

Aaaand that's it! Thank you most kindly for reading all this, and if you have any questions, ideas, or frustrated noises to make, come scream at me please :D

I've talked about this before, but John and Alecto are absolutely a Lord of Time/Muse of Space duo. Active vs Passive, life vs death, and the process of a cherub maturing is eerily like Lyctorhood.

There's been plenty of theorizing on whether John actually does control time. Personally I don't think so, but it's certainly suggestive! And if John's the metaphorical mutant red, it's exactly what passed on to Gideon ("lipochrome. recessive") while the lime green neatly ties Alecto back to her "green and breathing thing".

[c3stlav1e]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ THE COLD WAR RETURNS: ON THE BIGGEST RED CARPET IN THE WORLD.

written by EnVieOus

The Met Gala, taking place the first Monday of May each year, is undoubtedly one of the most watched events of the year in the realm of the filthy rich and those finely attuned in to the lives of celebrities. Celebrated in New York City and hosted by international phenomenon Vogue Magazine, recent years of the event have seen more and more internationally recognized celebrities welcomed to grace the number one red carpet of the fashion world, something that gives us Kpop fans a reason to cheer. While a swath of idols were seen at this year's gala, 3 that never fail to catch my eye were La Vie's Anya, Star, and Mari.

from left to right: Anya Na in custom YSL, Star Shinawatra in custom YSL, Mari Bang in Schiaparelli haute couture '21

Anya and Star both stunned in custom Yves Saint Laurent, unsurprising from the luxury brand's princess and her closest confidant. While this was Star's debut at the Met, this is the third year in a row that Anya has been invited by the designer house.

However, Lovies were left with plenty of questions when the group's maknae Mari arrived later than the former two in a striking yet conflicting outfit by Schiaparelli. Although the three only briefly passed on the carpet, no acknowledgments were shared.

To older fans, this icy greeting is hardly news. Its been recently made clear that tensions between La Vie and their maknae have been raised ever since she first made her solo debut in the American music industry back in 2021. Some fans had bashed the idol for "abandoning" the group to focus on western fame and validation.

Lovies were led to believe that things were on the mend between them all when Mari returned to the group for their most recent comeback celebrating the group's 7th year anniversary, making it the first OT6 comeback in nearly 2 years. The group released a 2 hour long documentary highlighting the group's history and the album's making which had an emotional segment on Mari's absence, how it had effected the group's dynamic, and her intentions to right any wrongs in the hearts of her members and her fans. It was all very touching.

And yet, almost a year later, we are seeing the conflict back in full swing. 4 days before the Gala, La Vie posted a teaser for their newest comeback to all of the group's socials. The teaser very notably only featuring 5 of the members (missing Mari once again), much to the disappointment of hopeful Lovies everywhere.

"Teaser ; White Swan" posted to La Vie socials on May 2, 2024

While this in itself stirred up controversy, nothing would compare to the shitstorm that arose when 2 days later, Mari dropped a teaser for her newest single, set to release only a week after the rest of the group's mini album.

Teaser posted on May 4, 2024 to Mari's Instagram, @ maribang, captioned " ugh, what a b!! SOMETHING NEW COMING TO U JUNE 4TH "

Fans and netizens have conveyed a wide range of emotions the past few days, from outrage to disappointment to jumping for joy, and this most recent interaction (or lack thereof) has only added to the overflowing dramatics of the public's opinion. Calls for Mari's official removal from the group have only increased since her apparent cold shoulder on the carpet. Some are blaming conflict between Rainbow Entertainment and MGM, Mari's record label in America, for the issues, fruitlessly arguing that the girls would never want to treat each other so coldly of their own accord.

After years of this drama, the people are beginning to demand answers, but the radio silence on both ends continues. Was it simply an accident, where one didn't see the other? Or a blatant cold shoulder between former best friends?

Let us know what YOU think here !

Click to read more comments...

ltov6: this is a reachhhh!!!!!! they were on the same part of the carpet for like .2 seconds before star and anya were rushed off. don't put words in their mouth!!

bangbangmarmar: anyway. mari outsold on her own, she doesn't need those washed up bitches🙄🙄

expensiveanya: well my princess was serving as per usual so that's all that matters🤭

lvis6: wait... SHES THE BLACK SWAN!!!! ot6 cb is coming!!!!!!

feelinlikepsychoo: good god can they just kick her out already...... like they clearly do not need her. dragging their name down for no reason.

2sunz: if sol was there she wouldve straightened them out fr. acting like children without their mama

lovelylovie: to everyone saying she probably didn't know... she's literally dressed as a black swan. she knew.

[yellowkitkieran]

Two Minutes (Kieran Tierney)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Kieran isn’t very good with words, which leads to you thinking he doesn’t care, which he very much does. Requested by @oh-saints

Kieran is a man of few words. You learned that very early on when you met him. His actions speak louder anyway; what be can't say with his mouth, he'll let you know through his actions. Well, in most cases that is. 

Before you officially started dating, Kieran was an attentive man. He sent you messages after dates to make sure you got home okay and sent you flowers after your first dinner together. Now that you're officially his girlfriend though, something seems to have shifted. You don't hear from him as often. When you do, it's rarely anything substantial, usually only a quick chat about your days before he's yawning and telling you he needs to rest. 

You lay in bed, staring at your phone. For the third night in a row, you wait up for a text that doesn't come. Kieran's been busy with training for the London derby tomorrow and your schedules haven't lined up to let you see each other for what feels like ages. You miss him, plain and simple. You'd do anything to see him for five minutes. But apparently, Kieran doesn't miss you enough to so much as send you a short message before bed.

It isn't too much to ask for. You message him a few times throughout your day, updating him on the monotonous things in your life like your exam scores and the fact that the kitchen on campus ran out of jam and muffins this morning. He's read them but hasn't replied to a single one, and that's getting on your nerves. 

Three dots appear on your screen and you almost think you're hallucinating until a message pops up. 

Hey, sorry I've been so busy. Are you still coming to the match tomorrow?

You want to leave him on read so he knows how you've felt all day. However that's just not something you can do; you'll take any opportunity you can to hear from him, seeing as you're not sure when you'll get the chance again. 

That's my plan! Are you busy now? We could maybe facetime xx

I really need to get to bed… but I'll see you at the stadium?

Kieran's message pulls the plug on your mental sink, draining your excitement in seconds. Can't he spare two minutes so you can lay eyes on him? At this point you're half convinced he wants nothing to do with you and is just stringing you along. 

Oh, yeah of course. Sleep tight Kieran xx

You don't bother waiting for a response when you know it won't come. He's probably already plugged his phone into the charger and put it face down on his nightstand. He's probably put on his white noise machine playing and is cuddled up under his fuzzy white blanket, waiting for sleep to take him.

The irony is, you know Kieran's pre-matchday routine like the back of your hand, but you doubt he could even tell you how you like your eggs. You could make him a full breakfast just the way he likes, with his fruit in a separate bowl from his oatmeal and everything, and he doesn't even know if you like fruit. 

Overall, you can't shake the feeling that Kieran just doesn't care. Is it irrational? Maybe, but if he cared, he'd try and make time for you, wouldn't he? Even just two minutes, that's all you're asking for. Two minutes of his time. Apparently, that's too high of a cost for Kieran to pay.

**********

You suppose the nice part of being a wag is the fact that you don't need to pay for parking. You're allowed to park in the same lot as the players, which is a treat considering you also don't need to wait in a long, winding line to get inside. 

You're early. Like, really early. When you woke up this morning you decided you were going to see Kieran whether he wanted to or not- so here you sit, scrolling through Instagram on your phone while you wait for Kieran to pull in. And he can't miss you either; you made sure to park in his unassigned assigned spot so he can't claim he didn't see you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a gray Audi. Your heart becomes stuck in your throat as it parks next to you. You force yourself to wait until Kieran knocks on your window to roll it down and look up at his smiling face. 

"Hey, I didn't expect to see you here so early. Wow- you went all out today didn't you?"

You bristle, glancing down at your jeans and Arsenal jersey with Kieran's number in the center of your chest. You barely bothered to do your hair and you only put on a minimal amount of makeup. What's he trying to say, that you don't normally put any effort in?

You shake your head, "I wanted to see you before your match today so I could wish you luck. Seeing as you've barely spoken to me all week."

Kieran's face softens and you almost feel guilty. "Right, I'm sorry about that. I've been busy like I said-" 

"Too busy to text me and say goodnight?"

You don't mean to accuse him so directly before an important game. It just tumbles out of you like rocks down a hillside, and you're powerless to stop it. You can't take the words back once they're spoken, despite the fact that Kieran looks like you've slapped him.

Kieran straightens with a sigh. His hand falls off your door and you begin to panic as he walks away, tears pricking your eyes. That's one way to break up with someone you suppose. You rest your head on the wheel, nearly jumping out of your skin when the passenger door opens and Kieran climbs inside. 

"What are you-"

"I'm not going inside until I've spoken to you about this." Okay, maybe you should stop jumping to conclusions, because Kieran looks as close to tears as you are. He takes a breath, reaching across for your hand. After a week of nothing, his touch does wonders to calm your frayed nerves. You feel your panic ebbing away like the tide, soothed by the way his thumb rubs over your knuckles. 

"Look, I'm terrible at communicating. I'm doing my best but clearly I'm not doing enough, because I don't mean to make you feel like this."

"It feels like you don't care anymore." Your voice is a barely recognizable whisper, heavy with months of pent up emotion. Your throat feels raw, though a weight lifts off your shoulders as you finally lay it out for him, "in the beginning you were so in tune with me? Sweet gestures all the time, messages to check in on me… what's changed Kieran? Is it something I did?"

"No, no, my love, you haven't done anything I promise," Kieran murmurs, quick to soothe you. "We started dating during the off season, remember? I had so much more time then than I do now. I realize that isn't an excuse but most days I come home from training and literally head right to bed after I eat. Getting back in the swing of things has been exhausting. And it doesn't help that I really have no idea what I'm doing here. You're the first proper girlfriend I've had."

"Wait… I am?"

Kieran nods, his cheeks red. "Yeah, you are. So I'm doing what I think I'm supposed to but like I said, I have no idea. I'll message you more, okay? I promise you that. And I'll make more of an effort to see you. Actually, take this."

Kieran digs in his pocket and pulls out his key ring, removing a silver key and placing it in your palm. "You can come to mine whenever you want, okay? I wouldn't mind walking in and having you be the first thing I see when I get home."

"This is your house key."

"Uh huh."

"Like, you're giving me a key to your house."

"Aye sweetheart I am. I hope that's alright?"

You stare at the metal in your hand. Suddenly you feel stupid for doubting him when he clearly has perfectly valid reasons for being distant lately. You have trusted Kieran since the day you met and he hasn't given you a reason to doubt him. Your insecurities simply got the best of you this time, but you're determined not to let it happen again. 

"It's perfect Kieran. Just like you." You smile, grabbing the front of Kieran's shirt and pull him to you for a passionate, heavy kiss that certainly isn't appropriate for your surroundings, not when one of his teammates honks when they drive by. You break apart, both laughing as you try to catch your breath. 

"Go get 'em, Key. Score a goal for me."

"Anything you say sweetheart. I'll meet you at home after, yeah?"

"I'll be waiting."

[all-risejd]

Puppy Heaven [All Doms Go To Heaven]

Warnings: Puppy Play, if you squint it’s an orgy but not really?, subspace, anal, painting people with cum?, Roman and Damian are both doms?, awkward situations, Paul Heyman is a literal saint, and power play. 

Roman Reigns had heard things about how The Judgment Day operated. You didn’t make it this far in pro-wrestling without either realizing how heavily fetishized the subculture was or succumbing to your innermost desires. He also knew well the rumors and startling whispers that circled Damian Priest - so when Paul brought up the tentative partnership Roman hadn’t been sure it was a good idea. They were selling very different versions of the family. But, as always The Wise Man had his points, and so Roman had begrudgingly accepted his logic. Solo massacred Rey Mysterio and the Judgment Day men were doing well against Sami, KO, and Riddle until the LWO got involved - it took too long for the twins and Solo to intercede on behalf of the Judgment Day. But Roman had noticed that Solo was particularly protective of Dom while all four factions were in the ring. 

It had reminded Roman that there was life after the Judgment Day and the youngest two members were nuclear levels of heat. Perhaps they could be his future enforcers. The thought made him smile, even as Paul slid back into the room, dressed in his suit as usual, “My tribal chief, Priest, has requested a change of venue. Something about Dominik not being in a good headspace for public consumption. They’ve asked if we would mind meeting them at their rental house.” That was another thing Roman had noticed, The Judgment Day no longer lived hotel to hotel. They got short term rental properties from city to city. He’d tried to ask Hunter about it but the man had just dismissed him with a ‘Dominik needs them’. Like that explained everything. What was so special about Dominik Mysterio?

Curiosity peaked, Roman hummed, “That sounds agreeable, ask if we need to bring anything with us.” He preferred to be a good house guest even if he was going to somewhere he was sure was a den of sins. Paul typed away at his phone for a few minutes, then hummed, before he looked back up at Roman, “Well?”

“Priest suggest an open mind and that we wear clothing that’s not itchy or… uncomfortable to rub?”

Roman snorted, “Don’t look so freaked out. You know Priest. He’s probably just being a dramatic Dominant. We can wear soft clothes. He has his reasons.” Roman was a bit more curious about those reasons, now. Roman changed into softer shorts and a henley, before he trailed along behind Paul to the rental SUV with the twins, and eventually Solo followed along behind. Roman smiled as he realized that they had all followed Paul’s request to change into ‘softer’ clothes, all of them except Paul in fact looked like they were headed for a cotton-thread themed workout. The rental SUV posed a bit of a question of seating arrangements, but the twins ended up in the third row of seats, with Solo in the middle, one of the seats laid down, and Roman in the front passenger with Paul driving, as Roman connected the GPS.

“Man, I’m a bit curious to see what the hell they rented.” Came from Jey, “Also, the fact they get to rent houses…” He trailed off, a bit of jealousy leaking into his words.

Jimmy elbowed him, “Dude, Priest is Hunter’s favorite new boy.” Roman huffed, because being Hunter’s favorite anything walked the thin line between getting everything you wanted and having to deal with all the bullshit that went with being someone Hunter thought could handle the extra baggage. 

-/-

The house was not what Roman thought it would be like, it was bright and full of sunshine and flowers. The juxtaposition between the deep black silk like pajamas on Damian’s frame as he opened the door to greet them, and the yellow siding was enough to make Roman do a double take, momentarily concerned he’d stepped into some sort of twilight zone. “Welcome, Bloodline, do come in.” He stepped back in the doorway and ushered them all in, “Finn is making lunch, Rhea and Dom Dom will be down in a few minutes.” Roman waited for Jimmy and Jey to settle on the overstuffed loveseat before he slid into the comfortable looking couch, Paul moved to stand by the fireplace, while Solo found a seat in the recliner. 

Finn emerged from the kitchen in his own black shorts, that looked a lot like workout shorts, holding a tray of sandwiches. He settled them on the middle coffee table and headed back to the kitchen to grab the lemonaid, and several cups, before he dropped onto the arm of the chair that Damian had settled into, “Has Rhea not made it down yet?” 

“No, Dom Dom was having… he was struggling, I assume she will make it down at some point.” Damian shrugged, unbothered, then looked at Paul, “I assume this meeting is about our loss but Solo’s victory?”

Paul started to talk, but Roman cut him off, “I would like to apologize, the Usos and Solo had their orders, and opted not to follow them. I did not want you to take the loss, and I feel that it was our fault.” Roman reached forward and poured himself a glass of lemonade, “Thank you for making us sandwiches and offering us drinks.” He gave the boys a look, which prompted Jimmy, Jey and Solo to each grab a drink and sandwich. “We were a bit confused about the venue change.”

“Sometimes, it’s best for Dom Dom to have a safe space.” Damian offered, he held Roman’s gaze, “As you know we in the Judgment Day have a certain… stigma about our… personal lives.” 

Roman raised his eyebrow, “Is this about the fact that you all four have kinks that fall off the normal BDSM scene?” He offered, he kept his eyes locked on Damian’s, the older man bobbed his head slightly, “It’s fine, whatever is going on with Mysterio is going to be fine.” He said evenly, “We won’t judge, but we do need to decide our next moves when it comes to the Draft and to Backlash.”

“I’ll go get Rhea and Dom Dom.” Finn pushed off the chair arm, Damian patted his side, and Roman watched as he climbed the stairs, clearly worried about the turn of events.

“Can we get some sort of warning?” Jimmy asked, Roman recognized the mild concern in his cousin’s voice.

“Warning?” Damian looked perplexed.

“They want to know what to expect.” Paul sounded a bit like he wanted to know, too.

Damian chuckled, “Dom Dom is a good boy, a sweet puppy, very loving.” He offered, his smile widening. 

Roman felt his eyes widen, that was a pointed statement, and if Damian was suggesting what Roman thought, well, he might just have to spend more time with the purple wearing vigilanties. A creak from the top of the stairs revealed Finn making his way back down, behind him was Rhea in an oversized t-shirt with no visible shorts underneath, “Come on, Dom Dom.” Rhea called, lovingly. 

Roman almost flicked his gaze to his cousins, to watch their expressions, but he wanted to see the full reveal for himself. Dominik, afterall, was the son of a legend, and Roman knew for a fact Rey had no idea about this side of his son. Roman preferred to know what no one else did, and more than that - the fact that the Judgment Day was willing to let him see Dominik in any position other than one of power… well, it spoke volumes of how well they were going to partner, if he played his cards right. 

Behind Rhea, from the top of the stairs, Dominik crawled. His purple and black puphood that resembles more of a hound, with long ears on either side of his head, his naturally long hair was fluffier than normal, and looked soft to touch. Dominik was on his hands and knees, a mesh soft looking purple shirt on his frame, it had been cut into a crop top, with tiny leather shorts on his hips, with a long faux black furry tail, that almost drug the floor as he crawled along.

“Such a good boy.” Roman offered as Dominik made it to the landing, standing between both Finn and Rhea, “Isn’t the puppy so cute, boys?” He turned to give Solo, Jey and Jimmy a pointed stare. He assumed Paul had been in the business long enough to accept that some things just happened. Jey was the first to nod his head, before reaching his palm out and whistling, Dominik turned his head upward, looking at Rhea who made an affirmative noise, the boy crawled across the floor to push his leather snout into Jey’s waiting hands. Roman, internally, sighed in relief. At least one of his cousins understood.

“Can I pet him, too?” Jimmy asked, softly, fingertips already extended and inched forward to touch Dominik.

“Sure.” Rhea offered, “He’s really good.” She promised, “I’m going to get his snack, ok?” She looked at Damian who nodded his head, “Uh, just don’t play rough with him, he doesn’t like his ears or tail pulled, and if you're rubbing his side don’t press too hard on the left side his ribs are bruised from Mania.” 

“Of course.” Roman hummed, “We don’t want to hurt your puppy, do we lads?”

“Nope.” Solo offered, as he too moved to pet Dominik. Roman watched as the three ended up largely in the floor petting Dominik gently, Jey still rubbing his long hair, while Jimmy kept his palm largely trailing up and down Dominik’s spine (Roman would be willing to bet that Jimmy had experience with this, Roman had in fact met Naomi and the woman while crazy really liked cheetah print, and being on her knees). “Good boy, Dom.” Solo patted his head, “I’m going to listen to the meeting, ok?” Dom wagged his butt a little to give the illusion of his tail wagging.

Roman chuckled, as he stretched back out, “Come here, puppy.” He called softly, and watched as Dominik turned his head, snout first, long ears hitting him as he moved, to look at Roman, then he flicked his gaze to Damian.

“Go ahead,” Damian chuckled, “Rhea is making your snack, and we both know Roman is on your couch.”

Roman watched Paul reach out and run his fingers down Dominik’s spine as the boy hurriedly crawled toward Roman and then clambered onto the couch. Once Dominik was next to him, Roman adjusted so Dominik could rest his upper body across his lap, Roman immediately started scratching the boys head, letting his fingers tangle gently in Dominik’s hair. Roman cleared his throat, “What are we thinking about for Backlash? I already know where I am going for the Draft and I assume Rhea is aware?”

Rhea returned, to sit next to Roman, almost too close - he could feel the heat of her body against his side, as she smiled, “I know where I’m going, and where my boys are going. The real question is are they splitting you and Solo from the twins? And can I feed Dom his snack on your lap?” She held up a bowl full of strawberries and fresh cut fruit. 

“Go ahead.” Roman offered, and watched Rhea pull the first strawberry up and maneuver it into his mouth. “Alright, so Backlash?” The planning after that was relatively simple - they knew what was going on Backlash wise, and what they thought the Draft was going to be like for the rest of the crew. 

They’d largely wrapped up when Damian cleared his throat, “Dom Dom probably wants to play.” He checked his watch, “If anyone is interested?” He looked over the group, carefully.

Roman grinned, “I would love to watch you and Dom play, personally.” Then he remembered the room he was in, and looked toward the twins, Jimmy and Jey both were pitched forward, clearly interested in the turn of events, Solo looked like he might bolt, Paul, on the other hand, just shrugged his shoulders, unbothered. 

Damian’s smile stretched uncomfortably large, “Rhea, did Dom Dom get all his snacks?”

“He did.” She confirmed, with a huge smile, “Let me get his blanket.” She stood and handed Finn the bowl that she’d been feeding out of, Roman watched as the man headed back for the kitchen, only to return with a bottle of water, with a straw coming out of the top of it, he helped Dominik get a long drink, then backed off. Rhea returned with a large purple overstuffed blanket that looked soft and comfortable. Damian moved from his chair to kneel on the blanket even as Rhea tugged on Dominik’s ear softly. “Are you ready to play, Dom?” He looked up at her and wagged his butt again. 

Damian patted the blanket, “Come here boy,” Dom climbed down, which allowed Roman to move forward, resting his elbows on his knees, to watch closer. He snickered as Paul moved to drop onto the couch next to him. Finn had taken the seat Damian had vacated, Rhea now that Dominik was comfortably on the blanket, moved to sit on Finn’s lap. 

“What are the rules, can we pet him while you play?” Jey asked, breaking the silence that Roman had been reveling in, as Damain carefully positioned Dominik and ran his fingers over the boys’ long hair and down his back, to drag the palm of his hands over Dominik’s ass. 

That’s when it clicked for Roman, this was never the Judgment Day trying to show how much they trusted the Bloodline, this was them playing with power, showing him they knew who he was, they knew his dark secrets. He’d been caught out and had no Earthly idea how they’d figured out what he wanted most. This was the Judgment Day taunting him, and providing a blackmail avenue for themselves. 

Roman and Jey were the only two to move, both dropping into the floor to rub at Dominik’s shoulders and head, both offering encouragement to the pup. Damian, meanwhile, had pressed his large hands over Dominik’s thighs, and was squeezing them, as the boy squirmed in what Roman assumed was eager anticipation. Rhea and Finn moved to join the pile on the floor, with Rhea carefully unlacing the shorts Dominik had been wearing, Roman watched as they fell away, revealing that the tail was actually a plug, Roman licked his lips, he couldn’t help it. 

Damian waited for Finn to hand him something, then motioned for Roman closer, Jey meanwhile had settled in front of Dom, and was scratching at the base of his ears, where his natural hair overlapped the mask. Few men in life had made Roman jealous, but right now he wanted everything Priest was about to have. Damian nudged Dominik’s knees apart slightly, as Roman watched him gently pull on the base of the furry plug. Dominik let out a keening noise that had Rhea smirking as she bent toward Jey, only to kiss Dominik’s snout and whisper, “Be good for your Master, pupper, and I’ll let you have a special treat after.” That made his tail wag again, and by the look Rhea gave Dominik it was probably something Roman would have been more than interested in too.

Damian, meanwhile, was teasing the plug in and out of Dominik’s stretched hole, tantalizingly slow, slow enough that Roman could feel his mouth watering. Jimmy had moved to join his twin and Rhea, all three were rubbing all over Dominik’s back and stomach. “Ready, puppy?” Damian’s voice was honey, sticky sweet, and it made Roman’s spine tingle with want. He’d sort out his confusion over if he wanted to be Dominik or Damian at this moment, later, the show was about to get good. Damian pushed his own silky pajama pants down, revealing his hard cock. “Wanna be breed so bad, don’t you, pupper.” Damian cooed at him, affectionately. 

Roman, for his own sanity, was not going to wax poetic over Damian’s cock, although it was nice, about the same size as his, but thicker, and quite literally pretty. Instead, he was going to salivate over the glorious image that was Damian slowly inching the plug out of Dominik’s tight little hole. Roman would have savored the moment, maybe teased Dominik with his fingers or his tongue, but Damian did neither, instead he lined his cock up and pressed forward, Dominik whimpered, but seemed to press his hips backward toward Damian. 

“Don’t get impatient, pupper, wouldn’t want you to be a brat.” Roman said, evenly, not even realizing he might have over stepped something, Rhea shot him a look he couldn’t read, before she moved to kiss at Dominick's hips where Damian’s fingers were digging into Dominik’s flesh on the right side, while Finn was doing much the same on the left side. Jimmy and Jey were still rubbing at Dominik’s hair and snout, pressing kisses to his snout, and rubbing their hands over his shoulders and down his arms. Solo had pulled away from the group, with wide eyes and an expression of pure curiosity on his face. Roman spared him a second thought - perhaps Solo wasn’t aware that there was more to life than the vanilla world? 

Shrugging it off, he glanced back at Damian whose hips were now completely flush with Dominik’s ass.  Dominik it seemed, was content to be bred as Damian had suggested, Roman trailed his hand along Dominik’s side careful of his discolored skin from his bruised ribs, he had admittedly thought Dominik was cute for sometime - the boy was built different, and looked like someone worth snuggling up in a blanket and keeping safe and sound. It seemed like The Judgment Day had similar ideas about him. Damian slowly drug himself out of Dominik, only to plow back into the boy. Dominik let out a soft keening noise from the back of his throat, clearly pleased with all the attention he was getting. 

Roman was entranced, as he watched Damian - big, powerful, slightly terrifying but one hundred percent alphamale - fuck in and out of Dominik like it was his professional job. Rhea and Finn were both offering words of encouragement, both to Dominik and Damian, Paul had apparently decided to watch them with the expression of someone who had very little interest in the current proceedings. Dominik was exquisite. A thing of beauty really, all soft skin and smooth lines, his back arched just right and his whines turned more feral and desperate as Damian pushed into him harder, thrusting with enough force the younger man was jolted forward with each snap of Damian’s hips. 

“Rhea.” Damian’s voice held power and control, Roman’s own cock was half-hard and begging for his attention as he watched her shuffle forward to bend under Dominik’s body, Roman tilted down to watch her suck Dominik’s red weeping coco head into her mouth, as Finn’s fist coiled around his balls and tugged. Dominik let out a truly beautiful if not pitiful yelp, “Such a good puppy cumming just when told.” Rhea moved back out from under Dom and presented her open mouth to Damian first who smiled then to Roman, who was surprised to see that she hadn’t swallowed Dominik’s cum, instead she met Finn over the younger boys back in a sloppy kiss, to share his release. 

Damian hadn’t slowed his hips down and with the patient way that Dominik was taking the nearly violent thrust, Roman realized just how often this had to happen. “You can cum on him if you want.” Finn offered, his hand already down his shorts jacking himself off, Rhea had backed off a bit and was rubbing her hand over her upper thighs. Clearly waiting for something. Roman flicked his gaze over his cousins, Jimmy and Jey had apparently already been jacking off as both men gave him guilty looks, Solo however was hard in his shorts but sitting on his hands. Processing more than likely, Roman decided, even as he pushed his shorts down to rest under his balls. 

He didn’t expect Finn to catch his wrist and spit on his hand, but he’d take it - lubrication of any kind seemed idea as he moved to fist his dick at the same speed Damian was brutally fucking into Dominik with. Roman came quicker than he expected, his balls drawing up as Damian let out a growl of sorts and stopped his long thrust only to buck his hips once flush against Dominik’s ass in a sort of up-down motion, the boy had drool running down his snout, and his shoulders were shaking with exhaustion. Roman smiled as his cum splattered against the purple mesh and dark bruises on Dominik’s skin. 

Damian’s hips stilled, it took Roman by surprise how much care Damian put into sliding out of Dominik and pushing the tail plug back in place, the boy seemed to collapse onto the rug so Damian pulled his pants back up and bodily life’s Dominik so he could cradle the boy in the chair with him. Rhea and Finn moved to sit on either arm of the chair, all three petting Dominik’s still quivering form. 

Paul gave them a few minutes before he cleared his throat, “My tribal chief, Mr. Priest, sorry to interrupt more of what I am sure would be fantastic team bonding,” He turned to look at Roman, “But you have a afternoon meeting with Mr. Rhodes and I’m sure you would prefer to wear a suit to that.”

“Of course.” Roman agreed as he shakily stood, “Thank you for having us over and thank you for letting us play,” He rubbed Dominik’s head affectionately, “If you ever need a puppy sitter let us know.” He moved to walk away when Damian handed him a small flash drive. Roman raised an eyebrow at him. 

“It’s a helpful list, for people like us.” Damian said unbothered. “Safe places and rental properties.” Roman accepted the offer, a bit irritated. Obviously the Judgment Day had won this round, in a competition that he hadn’t been aware they were having. 

-/-

It always took Dominik a while to come out of either puppy or subspace but once he did there was a house rule that Damian, Rhea and Finn would explain what happened and how. This time he’d sort of drifted back into awareness with his head between Rhea’s spread thighs licking her beautiful cunt like a starving man. He didn’t mind, not really that was probably one of his favorite places to be, but his hazy memories of his drop always seemed to come back in static after his head started to clear. 

The after-Roman conversation. That’s what he’s going to refer to as the horrible discussion he and Damian had to suffer through after the meeting of the two factions, although Dominik is fairly sure they should have covered a lot more of exactly what they were doing in the before conversation. Damian had explained that the Bloodline were coming to visit them, he’d told Dominik how he thought Roman and at least Jey were inclined as they were (he had taken that to mean into kinks most normal people didn’t talk about) and that they were going to discuss the Draft and Backlash. Dominik hadn’t expected to be used as some sort of power play. 

Admittedly he was flattered that he had power over Roman and his boys at least outside of the ring. He spent most of the afternoon pouting until Rhea inched into bed with him, “We wouldn’t have done anything to hurt you, you know that?” He nodded with his head still under the covers, “Damian would never put us in harms way. Not you and me. He might sacrifice Finn but we are his babies.” She patted her approximation of his head, “You did so good, Dominik and you honestly gave us our first leg up on the Bloodline. All those boys are married and the approximation of perfect households.” Rhea hummed, “You know how much fun we have with Damian, it’s an itch we can’t scratch anywhere else. It’s leverage baby.” She promised as he slowly inched out of the blanket to look at her, “You made us all proud today, and Roman? He wanted to be you.” 

That made the twisted upset inside of Dominik subside. Rhea was right. Damian would never let anything happen to him or Rhea that would hurt them in their careers, physically or emotionally. 

[ncytiri]

OC TAG GAME

tagged by: @nuclearstorms, thank you bones!!! 💗 tagging: anyone who has ocs they want to talk about! please tag me if you do because i wanna read about yours!! template by @sehyune / picrew

✦ favorite oc

zafira al-sentinel (skyrim)

all of my ocs are so dear to me but i think if i had to pick one, it would be zafira <3 she is one of my oldest too (i think this year she will be maybeeeee 6 years old?) because i have been playing with variations of her since my junior year of high school so she is like a true day one :') she is such a sweetheart and loves helping people and loves animals!!! she's sort of a reluctant hero and didn't really wanna be dovahkiin but realized she could use her powers for good :')))

✦ newest oc

jang mi-cha (fallout 3)

i recently started playing fallout 3 for the first time since it came out??? because i rmr playing it when i was like 8 and being way too scared by it KSDLFKJS so i figured to give it another shot! so this is ms. mi-cha!! my lone wanderer and for my playthrough, she is half korean, half black (going off of the fact that catherine's game model is black which i never knew until i started going through the fallout wiki!) and she is a lil smartypants <3 and OFC she's bi (she dated amata when they were young teens but realized they were better as friends and they were each others first kisses!!)

✦ oldest oc

refer to the seventh question because i realized mara is in fact my oldest oc but i didn't wanna rewrite that here so yeah! see mara's info down there 🫶

✦ meanest oc

this is crazy i don't actually have a true mean oc... i can't help but make nice characters 😔 he doesn't count since he isn't my oc but i do play around with miraak from skyrim and he is such an asshole but he's my little asshole <3

✦ softest oc

deon cameron (state of decay 2)

MY SWEET BOYYYYY (i say abt a 25 year old man), deon is definitely the softest oc i have so far, he is the second in command, later the leader, of my first community in state of decay 2, the fragments! he took over the position after his best friend (and crush) max's mental health started to decline as a result of stuff he had to do as warlord (a subclass of hero in sod2) :( he is a very kind hearted man, always wanting what is best for the settlement and as a trader hero, he established a trading outpost at their homebase allowing for traders from around the region to come and trade! he also looooves animals and specialized in pathology to help create more plague samples and became one of the settlement's main medics! he is a very busy man but he doesn't care what is thrown his way, as long as it means that the settlement and the valley is safe!!

✦ most aloof/standoffish oc

venus (cyberpunk 2077)

it comes as no surprise as someone who was once embroiled in arasaka's innerworkings and coming from a family who was thoroughly involved in arasaka business would be standoffish but after being backstabbed by a higher up in a botched assassination attempt on another higher up and having everything she had worked so hard to earn taken away in the blink of an eye, it's no wonder that venus is the way she is :/ but don't let her steely expression and sharp words get to you too much, once you crack through her touch outer shell, you will find a woman who wants nothing more than to be loved and trusted :/ she rly does have a heart of gold tho, she kept it quietly but when she was still employed at arasaka, a small chunk of her paycheck went towards a school for inner city kids to help fund their educations and provide teachers with supplies 💗

✦ dumbest (affectionate) oc

mara sanchez (saints row 2)

i mean. if you have seen saints row 2 in any way, either played it or watched a playthrough of it, you will see how much of a dumb (affectionate) game it is 😭 i believe mara is my oldest oc omg... this bitch has been with me for 10+ years?? that's actually so crazy to think abt omg... anywho, mara is the boss of the third street saints and is genuinely one unserious women. she is fashionable as hell and likes to appear a professional, well kept lady but she is anything but 💀 has been caught streaking multiple times on the beach during a night out with her crew, once got stuck hanging out the side of a helicopter during a mission with her underwear on full display, advertises open house free weed "tastings" at the university district apartment, joined a coed curling team at the university when she was younger for the hell of it... just a very unserious woman

✦ smartest oc

xolia vene (star wars) and jang mi-cha (fallout 3)

i already mentioned mi-cha being a smart lady in her section but i felt i would mention her here once more <3 and ms. xolia my beloved... she is a benefactor for the resistance in my sequel trilogy rewrite and i can't decide whether i want her to run a nice nightclub or be like an art gallery curator that is able to shuffle money around without suspicion... but yes! she was orphaned as a young child and taken in by a wealthy family from naboo who later saw their oldest child become the senator of naboo and xolia sort of followed in her sister's footsteps during her teenage years, shadowing her and learning the inner workings of the galactic senate. she is a very attentive and smart woman and i love her dearly 💓

✦ oc you'd be best friends with irl

vernon (cyberpunk 2077)

VERNONNNNN named after vernon from the kpop group seventeen and also inspired by vernon himself! he is a nomad and just such a little comedian, even though he is a pretty quiet guy! like when he is in the right atmosphere, around the right people, he will be the absolute life of the party. he is a major cat lover and is looking to adopt whatever cat he might stumble upon in night city. i think vernon and i would get along super well for all of these reasons but specifically the part abt being cat lovers!

[megafreeman]

So, remember how I mentioned I'll do Saints Row reboot as a sequel to SRTT instead of a full reboot? Well I decided to make a whole list of what leads to the start of SRR. It serves more-so as a sequel to my unfinished fanfic Rose of Stilwater. Putting it under a read more cause its long.

First to establish the epilogue of Rose of Stilwater (which I won't even finish at this point lol). Its spoilers so don't read if you actually wanna hope I finish it one day. SPOILERS: Luchadores end up being selfish, Bloodhounds back off their partnership, Luchadores kill Anabelle, which triggers Bloodhounds allying with the Saints, after the Luchadores are defeated they became pretty much part of the Saints, as Saints ascent into a criminal empire approach similar to the Syndicate (basically Bloodhounds are what Luchadores are to Syndicate). Diesel, being a champion of Stilwater's Fight Club, gets offered by Lina to be Ultor's wrestling champion after they've been pestering her to start a wrestling career cause of the SRTT's Murderbrawl mission, and he moves to Steelport to manage his career from there, and runs Bloodhounds 2 from Saintfied Three Count, while Arron runs Bloodhounds 1 in Stilwater. Fuego betrays the Saints in favor for macho luchadores and ends up getting killed by hardened Rose at the end of the fic after learning how to be a proper ruthless leader. End spoiler.

Actual important details of epilogue: Saints become a criminal empire, getting split into Stilwater Saints and Steelport Saints. Stilwater Saints are led by SR1 Playa/SR2&TT Boss Lina after her return from Steelport adventures (who also runs THE empire, basically Saints Phillipe Loren), while Steelport Saints are lead by Viola after she proved to be trustworthy and capable leader in SRTT. Ryan leaves the Stilwater PD after realizing they don't care about the community and only care about filling reports, and that the Saints benefit the community a lot more.

Now actually stuff related to this AU

In 2016, after successfully stopping Cyrus' terrorist attack, Lina decided to run for President, she leaves the leadership of Stilwater Third Street Saints in Rose's hands after she proved herself in the fanfic.

In 2017, when Lina got inaugurated officially into White House, Rose took over the Saints full time and started running it with no limits.

Saints partnership with Ultor gets rocky as they ran out of stars to push Saints-Ultor Media group with. They wanted to make Rose into a star, but she refuses, breaking the cycle.

As Ultor are desperate trying to find new stars within the Saints, they slowly start becoming Ultor's moneypit as the profits starts stalling and a lot of projects had to be cancelled due to Lina's presidency.

They decide to instead hire Saints for a covert operation, they invite Rose to a meeting and ask her to sneak into their biggest rival's platoon, as they suspect that they have been stealing prototypes from them.

They specifically ask Rose because Ultor has been trying their hardest to stay clear from Santo Ileso after the 2001 union busting "accident". (I feel the need to note that this is an actual SRR canon) They needed an outsider, and nothing catchy for press to make headlines out of.

Ryan comes with Rose. He's bored of guard duty and wanted to see some action. He argues that he'd be great at it because of his experience as the undercover cop.

Ultor gives them fake identities with proper paperwork for them and a job to sneak into Marshall as their grunts. They are applied for their boot camp, which is where the two meet Sebastian and hit off with him.

They're provided housing by Ultor, where they're given an apartment suite in Poseidon's Palace in El Dorado, which is owned by one of Ultor's shell companies. (thought of this because Poseidon's is owned by Ultor in SR2, so this makes it a franchise owned by the same company)

This is where they story starts but here are a few more details. They get hired to work in the museum with Sebastian, but the whole security team gets laid off after the Hummingbird Codex is stolen. During the Networking mission, Sebastian reaches out to Ryan and Rose, who are desperately trying to figure out how to get back in Marshall without reporting their failure to Ultor (Saints-Ultor, and therefore Saints biggest moneymaker was on the line), and asks them to join the Saints. They figured, they could at least destroy the Marshall if anything.

Sebastian, who named Saints after Third Street Saints (massive fanboy), actually doesn't know they're Third Street Saints until mid game plot twist reveals it.

Game ends with Saints being merged into Saints Empire, and becomes Santo Ileso Saints alongside Stilwater Saints and Steelport Saints. Despite this, they have full reign over Saints activity in the west coast.

[pastortomsteers]

The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

August 4, 2024

Pastor Tom Steers

Christ the Saviour Lutheran Church, Toronto

Divine Service Setting III (Pages 184 – 202)

Lutheran Service Book

We begin our service with the Invocation:

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Confession and Absolution   Page 184-185

Introit (read by the Pastor)

Psalm: 78:23-25; antiphon: Psalm 78:72

 

72 With upright heart he shepherded them     and guided them with his skillful hand.

23 Yet he commanded the skies above     and opened the doors of heaven, 24 and he rained down on them manna to eat     and gave them the grain of heaven. 25 Man ate of the bread of the angels;     he sent them food in abundance.

Glory be to the Father and to the Son

and to the Holy Spirit;

as it was in the beginning,

is now, and will be forever. Amen.

72 With upright heart he shepherded them     and guided them with his skillful hand.

 

The Kyrie  (Lord Have Mercy)

Congregation:

Lord have mercy upon us.

Christ have mercy upon us.

Lord have mercy upon us.

The Salutation:

Pastor:  The Lord be with you.

Congregation:  And with thy spirit.

Our Collect Prayer:

Merciful Father, You gave Your son Jesus as the heavenly bread of life. Grant us faith to feast on the Him in Your Word and Sacraments that we may be nourished into life everlasting; through the same Jesus Christ, our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Our Opening Hymn is: “The Church’s One Foundation”

Lutheran Service Book, 644 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XxdX3wgNSu0

Our Bible readings this Sunday:

Old Testament – Exodus 16:2-15

Psalm 145:10-21

Epistle – Ephesians 4:1-16

Gospel – John 6:22-35

The Apostles’ Creed –

I believe in God, the Father almighty,

maker of heaven and earth,

And in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord,

who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,

born of the Virgin Mary,

suffered under Pontius Pilate,

was crucified, died and was buried.

He descended into hell.

The third day he rose again from the dead.

He ascended into heaven

and sits at the right hand of God

the Father almighty.

From there he will come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,

the holy Christian Church,

the communion of saints,

the forgiveness of sins,

the resurrection of the body,

and the life everlasting. Amen.

Our Hymn of the Day is: “O Living Bread from Heaven”

Lutheran Service Book, 642 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqUpkoTBGSU

The Sermon

“I Am the Bread of Life” –

It had been a long time without any rest for Jesus and His disciples.

Christ spent the previous day ministering to people in the wilderness.

He even multiplied a boy’s lunch of bread and fish to feed 5,000 men and their families.

Then the twelve spent all night trying to row across the sea against a strong head wind.

They weren’t able to cross until Christ walked to them over the water.

As the day dawned, they arrived at the other side of Lake Galilee.

People ran from all over the countryside to bring the sick and injured to Jesus for healing.

There was no stop … no letup.

The crowd that Jesus left on the far side of the lake showed up for breakfast, but quickly figured out He was no longer there.

When more boats came along, they also crossed the waters, and found Jesus.

When they reached Him on the other side of the sea, they asked, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” (John 6:25)

They were trying to understand how Jesus got across the water and back to Capernaum.

He hadn’t left with the disciples, and hadn’t taken a boat from shore.

It seems like a fairly innocent question.

Never the less, Jesus looks at the heart.

He understood that the motive of the crowd wasn’t as innocent as it might seem.

Jesus answers:

“Truly, truly, I say to you, you are seeking me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him God the Father has set his seal.” (John 6:26–27)

Jesus understood they were just interested in another free meal.

They didn’t understand that Christ came to give eternal life, not just a complimentary breakfast or lunch.

The question-and-answer session they have with Jesus clearly demonstrates they don’t get it.

Eventually the crowd asked a question revealing their unbelief.

“Then what sign do you do, that we may see and believe you? What work do you perform? Our fathers ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” (John 6:30–31)

Our Lord replied, “Truly, truly, I say to you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” (John 6:32-33)

The crowd asks, “Sir, give us this bread always.”

Jesus replies, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.” (John 6:35)

Jesus had been healing the sick, curing the lame, causing the deaf to hear and the blind to see.

He cast out demons and raised people from the dead.

This very crowd had eaten bread and fish miraculously multiplied from His hand, yet they ask for a sign.

The stubborn, unbelieving heart is never satisfied.

It will always ask for more proof.

The same is true today.

Jesus is the bread of life.

Many have read and heard those Biblical words, but do we take them into our hearts?

Without food we die.

Without Christ we die spiritually, eternally separated from God.

Jesus is that important, because ultimately, we are dying – physical life in this world has a 100 percent mortality rate.

We can exercise, avoid risks, take vitamins, but death is inescapable.

The death of our physical bodies though isn’t the half of it.

The bad news for atheists and agnostics is that death isn’t the end.

The irony for those who want nothing to do with Christ in this life is that they will get their wish in eternity.

Science offers no hope in the matter, it doesn’t even acknowledge there is a spiritual world because it can’t find an instrument to measure it.

If Christ is real life, what hope do we have of connecting to Him?

He lived, died and rose up to Heaven some time ago.

We live in a secular, even anti-Christian culture that either ignores or mocks our faith.

We hunger for the things of God while living in God-less times.

Where do we find hope, sustenance?

The Good News is that Jesus truly is the bread of life – He’s come to save this world because it is dying.

My death isn’t an obstacle for Him.

He raises dead people. It’s His job description.

The promise He makes is that His gift is not only for this life and day, but for eternity.

We aren’t phantoms, briefly seen, but beloved children of God, precious to the eternal Lord of Heaven and earth, and He’s worked mightily, effecting salvation for believers.

This isn’t a salvation we earn with our ‘good works,’ it isn’t about what we do.

The Prophet Isaiah made clear that before God those deeds are filthy rags. (Isaiah 64:6)

It’s about Christ, the sinless Son of God, and His ultimate good work, what He’s done for us on the cross in paying for our sins.

The Apostle John wrote: “Then they said to him, “What must we do, to be doing the works of God?” Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” (John 6:28-29)

Faith is worked in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, the Third Person of the Trinity, through God’s Word and the Sacraments of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper.

Of course we’re broken, it’s the way we were born, but Christ is not broken.

The same Jesus who fed the multitudes and rose from the dead has joined Himself to us in the waters of our Baptism, come to us time and again in His Word, and given us His very body and blood in the Lord’s Supper.

He does this out of love for you and me, and carries us in the day of heartache, loss, and despair.

He loves to work through the broken and weak things of this world.

He died a slavish death on a cross, cruelly treated by people He created.

Don’t look for His strength in displays of worldly power, but in other-worldly love and compassion.

Look for the Lord’s power to be shown to us in His mercy, through the crucified and resurrected Christ.

For some that opens a door for doubt, He knows it.

Yet He doesn’t tell fearful disciples as He walks across the sea that He’s done with knuckleheads, and that He’ll be replacing them with more ‘spiritual’ sorts of people.

He doesn’t look at our brokenness, our repeated sins and say, ‘I’m out of here.’

He comes down from Heaven, and on His way to the cross speaks words of hope and salvation, offering a starving world the true bread from Heaven – Himself.

The crowds that look for a sign are patiently taught, and many hearts and minds transformed.

Peter, who will deny the Lord and yet go on to die a martyr’s death for Him in faith, will say, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

Amen.

PRAYERS OF THE CHURCH

SERVICE OF THE SACRAMENT  Page 194

THE LORD’S PRAYER  Page 196                                               

THE WORDS OF OUR LORD  Page 197

Pax Domini                                                                                                                                 Pastor: The peace of the Lord be with you always.                                                                              Congregation: Amen.

THE DISTRIBUTION

Post Communion Collect (Left-hand column)  Page 201                                                                                                    Salutation and Benedicamus  Page 201-202                                                                                                               Benediction   Page 202

The Benediction –

The Lord bless you and keep you.

The Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you.

The Lord lift up His countenance upon you and + give you peace.

Amen.

Our Closing Hymn is: “Guide Me, O Thou Great Redeemer”

Lutheran Service Book, 918 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fk8iY7do4A

[dontreadthisgamereview]

My Top Games of All Time List

This is my Top Games Experiences of All Time List. The rating of this is based on memories. I know some of these were in different orders on my lists for the previous years, but this list is based on how I feel about them today, which may change again in the future.

I've put a "thought" next to each. Some of these you can click on. Some of these you could play someday. I'd recommend trying any!

The Tops

Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey

My best game experience. I live in Michigan, so the waters of the Greek Isles? Like nothing I've experienced, but this game helps me imagine it. Then, place a great game in this world? Like, So Much game too? Great. Just great.

Saints Row the Third

My original experience with is what I chase in every video game I played. It was just… fun. Stupid, but exciting fun. It's wacky in story and style, you collect stuff, and you the skill tree is addicting. All about this.

Read Dead Redemption

This game impressed the heck out of me on first playthrough. It was so epic. The different biomes and acts to the game and different cities. It was not only sprawling in space, but in story and scope.

Control

To me, this game was all about the details. In the effects, in the environment, in the lore. Also, gameplay was slick and mood was awesome.

Horizon Zero Dawn

Nothing like this story. It felt like a prestige TV series, but not a boring something to watch but an exciting thing to play.

Batman: Arkham Knight

This is my pick to represent the entire series. This is not everyone's favorite, but it really grabbed me some reason. I love the city, the shooting, the "refresh" of the action gameplay, and it was one of the first Photo Modes I played with - which blew my mind.

Far Cry 6

Not only best of the series, but best FPS-Open-World period.

Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne

Thick with style, short, impactful.

Bioshock

Great graphics, style, and in-game storytelling.

Fallout 3

My intro to open world games. Massive game.

Duke Nukem 3D

My intro to what FPSs could do.

Doom II

My intro to FPSs.

Sonic 2

Perhaps the first full game I beat. I was really proud. Replaying enough to get this one "programed" this soundtrack into my head…

Resident Evil 4 (Gamecube)

Playing back in the day at a friends was just simply a good time.

Resident Evil Village VR

Wacky, weird, and great in VR.

Tomb Raider (1)

Formative.

Sam & Max Hit The Road

Formative.

Tom Clancy's The Division

One of the best open-world (modern-city) games in my opinion. This one in a quarantined New York City. No cars, so all walking on foot. The cover based shooting felt really "professional." Super slick.

Dead Rising 2: Off The Record

The benefits of the sequel tech, but also an unprecedently "redo" with a redirection to wild fun. Super great.

Watch Dogs 2

The best open-world (modern-city) games in my opinion. A solid story with great style and so much to see. Lots of great touches and unique things to the series. Far better than the original. Just try it!

The Evil Within 2

This was the only game that made me feel kind of sick in my throat from some of the horror elements. So, definitely impactful to me.

Dragon Quest Builders 2

I thought this series was great. Some parts felt too long, but that's what also gave it the feel of accomplishment after you spent so much time in a world and completed it. The best "building" game in my mind.

Ultimate Spider-man

The first of the Spider-man games that really clicked for me. This was a great experience for me at the time. I played several times. I loved the style.

Resident Evil 2 (remake)

The best remake of anything I played. Genius.

Super

The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Best in this series so far. Flawed, yes, but the experience at the time was unparalleled.

Prey

It takes a lot from other games, but it does it well!

Akiba's Trip

I like the cut of this games' gib.

Marvel's Midnight Suns

By far the best of the "series" of isometric Marvel strategy games.

Star Trek: Resurgence

Best Star Trek game, and one of the best sci-fi Adventure Games I've played.

Bully: Scholarship Edition

I loved the world and how it opened up, the seasons, the stories, the "classes minigames," etc. It didn't have the "highs" of some other games, but there really weren't any "lows" in this game in my memory!

TRON 2.0

Better than the movies to me. It just made a lot of sense, and also played darn well.

Banjo Kazooie: Nuts and Bolts

The best vehicle builder game in my opinion.

Metal Gear Solid V

Other than Death Stranding, this is the only Kojima game I've played all the way through. And I’m putting this one on the list instead just because it got me just as much or more weirdness, but faster.

Tomb Raider (reboot)

This really shocked me in how "cool" a reboot could be. Many things from this game I won't forget. Best in this series in my mind.

Astro's Playroom

Slick as heck.

Luigi's Mansion 3

The only one of the series I've played, but I'm guessing the best. This is just really great.

Freedom Fighters

I've been playing recently even.

GTA San Andreas

The best one in my mind. There was nothing like the Act change where you had to go into exile. It made you do new gameplay, explore new areas, all these things in the same game.

The Crew

Some people rip on this game as not being exactly a street to street rebuild of the United States, but that would be terrible. THIS is the best version of a real coast-to-coast driving game thus far. Technically, The Crew 2 has better graphics, but that's not even a game. THIS is a game. It's not just a tech demo like the sequel.

Super Mario Odyssey

Perfect game.

Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor

See our podcast episode about this: link

LEGO Marvel Super Heroes 2

The best LEGO game in my mind. Fully of characters and places and styles and jokes and it's completely beatable.

Zombie Army 4: Dead War

This series is wild. This is the most advanced in this series thus far.

Hitman: Absolution

The best in the series in my mind. This was the last before a reboot.

Katamari

Of course.

No One Lives Forever 2: A Spy in H.A.R.M.'s Way

Back in the day, this was packed full of gameplay and style.

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time

Back in the day, this was slick.

Ratchet & Clank - A Rift Apart

The best of this series. Looks like a Pixar movie and plays great too.

Rocksmith

I learned some bass using this.

Blood and Truth

The first VR game I played that was a "real game." Not to mention, unique in being a fast paced shooter.

Sniper Elite 5

I liked this entire series, so this is the most advanced version thus far.

South Park: The Fractured but Whole

This game literally surprised me in how actually funny it was. Best South Park thing, better than the show.

Sunset Overdrive

Some people rip on this one online, but I love the weird and wacky style, and the gameplay is fast and unique.

Sacred 3

A game I played long after its release, but it was just a fun and fast paced game.

The Godfather: The Game

A strange game I played on PC. Some pretty unique ideas, lol

Uncharted 2

One of the best in the series in my mind.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine

It was the best game I played that summer, when I was really lonely at my internship in Ohio.

Star Wars: X-Wing Alliance

The best of the series in my mind. I really liked how slow the story started, from your family owned business to being part of the Rebels.

Resident Evil Revelations 2

This game was a weird one, but when I played the collection of the episodes - it was a like playing a "hidden" game no one knew about. Oddly, one of my top RE games.

Guacamelee 2

One of the few "hard" games I've played all the way through. But, it was all doable!

Void Bastards

A viable rougelike. And now that I think back, a Boomer Shooter too?

Dead or Alive 4

What can I say? Good gameplay, wacky style, and the FPS on Dreamcast was wild.

Great

Ghostwire: Tokyo

Great style. Nothing like it in an FPS.

HUNTDOWN

Unique retro style game with slick, die and repeat gameplay.

The Medium

One of the few "real horror" games I've played. But it got me really engaged and I enjoyed from start to finish.

Prototype 2

Best of this series. This game is extremely playable.

Dance Central 2

I first played this series at a friend's, then I bought the whole setup. I don't know where my Kinect got to…

Shovel Knight

This one really surprised me. I hadn't played a lot of "hard" games like this one, but it played SO well.

Fallout 2

I played a lot.

Bulletstorm

'tude

FEAR 2

A good one in the series. Story is all out of whack, but allows for a great game "world."

Titan Quest

I never did the Diablo thing, but this one grabbed me for some reason. I played through several times.

Alien: Isolation

Superb style and pacing.

Alien Shooter: Vengeance

I played back on PC in the old days. I really never played anything like it before, or since.

Crackdown 3

I liked the series, and this one is the most polished.

da blob 2

I don't think about often, but I remember fondly.

Dishonored 2

The best of the series for me. Like the original, but amped up.

Star Wars: Dark Forces 2: Jedi Knight

The best star Wars game I played for a long time. A great mix of the FPS, the lightsaber, characters, and even FMV stuff!

Star Wars: Tie Fighter

I still remember flying with Vader, and really hoping he would approve of me.

Trover Saves the Universe

A groundbreaking VR game, but also game. It was subversive to what a game "should be" like. This game usually goes left when it's supposed to go right.

The Talos Principle: Deluxe Edition

One of the few puzzle games I completed. The style and world was trippy/cool.

Dragon Age: Inquisition

The best of the series in my memory.

Dying Light

Not a lot from this games sister series grabbed me really, but this one did. I felt like it just all came together "right."

Freedom Force

One of the first games with a deep style I played. Then I found out who John Kirby was later.

Hitman (1)

I had some good memories with this one.

The Witcher 3

Iconic.

Sackboy Adventures

The only Playstation platformer that rivals Nintendo ones.

Assassin's Creed Syndicate

I loved the style on this one. I think I near 100%'d it.

Mirror's Edge Catalyst

I liked the original, and this one made it playable. No other gameplay like it that I know of.

Portal 2

The original is slick, but this one is a full game.

Red Faction: Armageddon

In this game, you really can destroy everything in it. Even walkways you need to continue on. Thus, they have a "nanotech" tool to rebuild stuff. It's the only way a game can really let you destroy everything in the space.

Remember Me

A unique sci-fi game with super cool ideas. Great style too.

Life is Strange

I never got much into sequels or other "emo" games, but this one hit me at the right time. Love the soundtrack.

Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six: Vegas: 2

I played this one way back. Best of the series in my memory.

Uncharted: The Lost Legacy

The best of the series for me. It uses the top tech, and it's short.

Titanfall 2

Best pilot/mech gameplay I've had.

Outlast II

Some scary memories from this one. Very dark, as in almost no light in some scenes. It's an experience.

Steam World Dig 2

All these Steam World games are quality, but this one grabbed me and was easy and short enough to finish.

Detroit: Become Human

This game seems to be made fun of by a lot of people online, but I started, was engaged, and finished. The best David Cage game I've played.

Ace Combat 7: Skies Unknown

The only fighter jet game I've ever started and finished. So, in my mind, the best one.

Wolfenstein: Youngblood

Gameplay wise, my favorite of the new series.

Cat Quest

A unique hack and slash game where you mostly play on the "map" screen. Good sense of humor and fun.

Journey to the Savage Planet

FPS Roguelike with a great sense of humor.

Honorable Mentions

Mass Effect 2

Best in the series.

The Saboteur

One of the first games I felt like I wanted to "get everything on the map."

Deus Ex: Human Revolution

The entire series was interesting, but this was the best playing for me.

Dead Space 2

The better of the two

Monkey Island 3: The Curse of Monkey Island

Encapsulates a certain sense of humor. Made me wish for warm climates.

Majin and the Forbidden Kingdom

Interesting puzzle game.

FF9

The first half was solid.

50 Cent: Blood on the Sand

Actually… a good Cover-Based-Shooter for the time.

Alice: The Madness Returns

Took the idea of the original, but made it look and play good!

Shadow Complex

A PS Now discovery. Quite fun.

Slayers X

A perfect homage.

Amped 3

I remember using my digital camera to take some videos of my screen of replays of my best runs.

SSX (reboot)

Introduced me to some great music.

Bayonetta

You can't deny the style, but I never got into the gameplay.

Beyond Good & Evil

Could have been greater, if they were only a bit more focused.

Binary Domain

Uniquely experimental. I enjoyed playing with friends.

Nights of Azure

Unapologetically alternative

Black & White

Interesting attempt, if nothing else.

James Bond 007: Blood Stone

I didn't like this series of the movies, but I liked this.

Captain America: Super Soldier

At the time, this was alright.

Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow

Not many of these grabbed me, but this one did perfectly.

The Chronicles of Riddick: Escape from Butcher Bay

Had a lot of fun sci fi ideas. A good looking game for it's time.

Conan

Okay. It looked good. It had topless women in it on PS3.

Condemned: Criminal Origins

Dark game with mix of investigation and grimy violence.

Dark Void

The best "jet pack" game I've played. Activating it indoors had a 90% chance to kill you, just like you'd expect!

Dante's Inferno

The goth, metal, emo, dark, in your face style was unique and not really done to this extent again. It went all in on style, with only tolerable gameplay.

The Darkness II

I was considering putting the first one on here because of its innovations, but this one was better to play.

Deadpool

One of the most humor based games I've played. And gameplay is o.k.

Fable

Great sense of humor and style. Better than all the sequels in my mind.

Far Cry 2

I just remember having to keep getting these very hard to find malaria pills to stay alive. Not many games have your character just die if they can't find an actually tough to find item.

Folklore

Felt like an indie comic somehow. Odd style.

Freelancer

Early "open world" stuff.

Tearaway: Unfolded

Full of gimmicks and weirdness. Hard to forget some of the strange things they tried.

Might & Magic: Clash of Heroes

Simple and unique gameplay. Would make a good, modern mobile app.

Lollipop Chainsaw

Trash. But, like, as in "Trash Cinema." As in, good.

Lost Planet 3

I'll never forget the feeling of being a lone contractor on this hostile ice planet. It was one of the first games with a "vibe" I remember

Metro Exodus

I always wanted to like this series, and the is the one that allowed me

Murdered Soul Suspect

Never seen an adventure game with this kind of plot before, or since

Oni

Very unique, experimental gameplay. No one did this control scheme again, but it was a unique idea for the time.

Overlord

Great sense of humor and unique (gameplay)

Soul Reaver: Legacy of Kain

I remember trying to wrap my head around the plot/mechanics of this. Both might have been beyond me at the time

Splatterhouse (PS3)

Tough to play now, but parts were striking upon release

Gal*Gun 2

Nothing like it (except for Gal Gun 1)

School Girl Zombie Hunter

Very unique

[jcmarchi]

Embracer Reportedly Might Close Free Radical Design, Its Reformed TimeSplitters Team

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/embracer-reportedly-might-close-free-radical-design-its-reformed-timesplitters-team/

Embracer Reportedly Might Close Free Radical Design, Its Reformed TimeSplitters Team

Publisher Deep Silver, which is owned by Embracer Group, announced in 2021 that it was reforming TimeSplitters developer Free Radical Design to begin development on a new entry in the series. Now, a new report from VideoGamesChronicle says this reformed Free Radical Design could be facing a complete shutdown, adding to Embracer’s continued restructuring that has resulted in the closure of studios like Saints Row developer Volition Games. 

Yesterday, Embracer COO Egil Strunke announced that he had resigned from the position to launch a new game company, as reported by PC Gamer, amidst Embracer’s rough year. Today, VGC reports that people familar with the matters of Free Radical Design say the studio has been part of an evaluation within Embracer and that the studio could close as a result. The publication writes that Plaion, which is the Embracer division that runs Free Radical Design, must consult employees at least 30 days in advance before layoffs per U.K. law. That law is likely how Free Radical Design employees have learned about a potential closure. 

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VGC notes that on LinkedIn and social media, at least 15 Free Radical Design employee have said they’re looking for new employment within the last 24 hours. Game Informer has reached out to Embracer to ask for confirmation and more details surrounding Free Radical Design’s potential closure, and will update this story if more information is learned. 

As noted by VGC, while the studio could close, that’s not yet guaranteed. It could be acquired by a third-party interested in the team, or simply kept open with a change of mind by Embracer.

Embracer-owned publisher Deep Silver, who also published this year’s Dead Island 2, announced in 2021 that it had reformed the original TimeSplitters developer, Free Radical Design, to create a new TimeSplitters game. This new version of Free Radical Design features key members of the original team, including founders Steve Ellis and David Doak, both of whom worked on games like GoldenEye 007 and Perfect Dark while previously employed at Rare.

[embedded content]

The first iteration of Free Radical Design was purchased by Crytek in 2009 and then rebranded as Crytek UK. However, it was shutdown in 2014, with much of the staff moving to Dead Island 2 developer Deep Silver Dambuster Studio, which also developed Homefront: The Revolution. 

Deep Silver owners Koch Media purchased the TimeSplitters IP in 2018, officially making Free Radical Design a Deep Silver studio in the process, all of which are now under the Embracer Group umbrella after Embracer purchased Koch Media in 2018. 

Free Radical Design was set to develop the fourth TimeSplitters game in the series, but now its future as a studio remains unclear. 

The potential Free Radical Design closure joins an unfortunately ever-growing list of layoffs affecting studios this year. Yesterday, Ubisoft laid off more than 100 employees, and last week, roughly 100 employees were laid off at Destiny 2 developer Bungie. 

In January, Microsoft laid off 10,000 employees amidst its ongoing $69 billion acquisition of Activision Blizzard, which it completed last month. 

In August, Striking Distance Studios, the team behind last year’s The Callisto Protocol, laid off more than 30 employees, and that same month, Mass Effect and Dragon Age developer BioWare laid off 50 employees, including long-time studio veterans. The following month, in September, Immortals of Aveum developer Ascendant Studios laid off roughly 45% of its staff. 

Just last month month, The Last of Us developer Naughty Dog has laid off at least 25 employees, and Telltale Games has gone through layoffs as well, although an actual number of laid-off employees has not yet been revealed.  And in late October, Dreams developer Media Molecule laid off 20 employees. 

The hearts of the Game Informer staff are with everyone affected by these layoffs and those at Free Radical Design. 

[Source: VideoGamesChronicle]

[deathbyvalentine]

DuD Prompts

Coming Aboard

Moving quarters was not new to him. Having two sets might be though. He did love a good 'first' and he supposed this certainly was one. He dropped his bag at the door and surveyed the room with a critical eye. Good desk. Bed was slightly but definitely at an angle, which meant he had months of bruised shins in his future. Bigger than the Chaser, unsurprisingly. He never really knew what to do with all the space. He didn't actually own very much, not that he carried. He'd been in service too long. The bedroom on Durovera was filled with a child's belongings and he hadn't been back in... too long.

He thoroughly believed in the importance of bedding in however. Who cares if you got reassigned in two weeks? You had to think of the ship you were on as home. That way, you fought to the teeth for it. What could he do in here without taking stuff from the Chaser? Pin up some more pictures of Astrid. Hang up some of his old dog-tags. See how likely he was to get away with painting a lightning symbol somewhere. On the plus, he probably got some new weapons out of it and setting up their maintenance here would be a joy.

The top drawer of the desk was always dedicated to actual work, plans and correspondence. Into the second draw of the desk, he dropped some brushes, some polish, a few rags. In the third drawer, he placed what looked like an odd collection of cogs, gears and wires. Random to onlookers but clearly of great import to him. Out of interest, after this, he placed his bottle of water on the desk and drops to eye level to watch the vibrations. He couldn't help but grin, affectionately place a palm to the floor. "Strong old gal, aren't you?" He patted the floor and stood back up.

His next move was to hang up the uniform, the spare flightsuit (the one he always couldn't help but think of as his funeral suit because he'll be damned if he's interred in the Durovera tomb wearing anything else.) After that... Nothing.

He should sleep. He knows he should sleep. It had been a frantic day or so (was it a day? everything had blended into one). But - and this was key - he had not in fact been ordered to. And so, time for one of his favourite parts of a new assignment... exploration. Especially before anyone got to think of him as important yet. You got away with so much more before anyone knew your rank. Or, rather, had processed and absorbed what rank you actually were. This went for surnames too, one being much like the other if you were him.

He wondered how deep Astrid was already in the vents. As she went to her home territory, he would start from the bottom of the ship and work his way up. He crouched to tie his boots up tighter. This was going to be a hike and a half and he was so excited.

______________________________________________________________ Flight Deck

It's not like coming home. It is coming home. Lance, the last person in the sector who could be accused of sentimentality, found himself pausing in the entrance, the hum of activity and smell of oil hitting him with a wave of comfort and nostalgia so strong it almost robbed the breath from him. He recovered quickly, regaining his stride and following a small gaggle of junior medicae and their clipboards.

His eyes, inevitably, were pulled up to the intricate paintings. And - he couldn't help it - there was the small, fierce swell of noble pride that it was his ancestor that fronted the crusade, that made history. There would be something bright and virtuous in launching from a bay watched on by this set of saints and knowing that legacy was his to honour.

He turned his attention to the neat row of shrines. Lance, like all pilots, was superstitious which was really another way of saying devout, right? This meant that he would be compelled, before every flight, to press his fingers to a saint, whisper a prayer. Every time, even if he was running, even if there was no time to spare. He hadn't missed one yet, provided shrines were available and not under conditions such as 'maybe a bit on fire'.

Delaying his gratification further, he raised his eyes up the neat blocks, one of which would contain his office. Let's face it, not particularly important considering he spent as little time as possible in it and had been known to do particularly boring paperwork in the cockpit. More exciting were the workshops, practically crying for him to go an irritate the priests by asking a hundred questions about everything they were doing and generally getting underfoot. The gymnasia too, very crucial for bonding and if needed, brutally putting someone back in their place via judicious application of force and bad sportsmanship.

Finally, he let himself look, turning on his heel. The fighters. The bays. The rumble underfoot with movement and power. Already he was picturing his Baby here, finally where she belonged, ready to show some of these fuckers what exactly a Lightning could do. But also, new machines to make his acquaintance with, to look after and love, to pair with other pilots that would also fall head over heels. That was one of the best parts of being in command - introducing new, green recruits to the greatest addiction and love affair they would ever know. Saving them as it had saved him. And god, fighting with others again, formations and manoeuvres and the trust that builds, speed and the endless blanket of stars spread out before them all -

He felt his heart rate literally jump up a notch and he laughed at his own ridiculousness. Maybe he was a little sentimental after all. Mawkish even. But he couldn't help it. He hadn't realised he had missed this. But he had, oh he had. And he was going to be good at this.

_____________________________________________________________

Night Out

They plunged deeper into the station, his breath caught in his chest, one hand entwined with Astrid's, Saffy and Purge only a step behind. Everything shimmered at the edges, lights blurring and fracturing into smaller and smaller pieces. There was no way to tell if the fierce joy that burned in his chest was chemical or not - did it really matter? Knowing the Inquisition meant knowing that your next day off might be years away. You had to seize the moment, when it came.

The club he finds them is bathed in blue, cheap sheets of plastic covering the station units lights. The floor is slightly tacky against their boots. No matter. There's a press of bodies and that's what matters. Not all of them are entirely human but at least there weren't any xenos rubbing shoulders with the humans. Small mercies. He could at least keep a veneer of respectability. Nothing he had to pretend to feel guilty about later.

He dove into the sea of people, pulling Astrid with him. It was loud. He could feel the music through his feet, deep bass that coiled at the base of his metal spine. He ramped the sensitivity right up. If he was feeling something, best feel it utterly. Best drown yourself in the sensation until the real world melted away. He closed his eyes. Within minutes he was lost. He could always recognise Astrid's touch, would know it at the end of the universe, but the other hands, other bodies and breath could be anyone's. He didn't want to open them and ruin the surprise.

Another of Saffy's magic pills that were probably some deep inquisitorial experiment. Whatever. Let them be. Right now he could forget he was in the Inquisition at all, could be a teenager again. With Astrid and Saffy here and with the quality of the dive club, it was scarcely any different. Well, perhaps the quality was a bit lower than the joints he hit up with Saffy but close enough.

Tomorrow he would do better. He'd wash his face and get sober again. Maybe this time was different. Maybe now, all grown up, he could just do it once. He could have nights out that didn't spiral out into strung out weeks. He could stop when he wanted to and go no further down this well trodden path.

Maybe, even, any of that was true.

______________________________________________________________

Pilot Death One

He rested the pen against his bottom lip, frowning a little. It was a rare expression on his face and looked somewhat out of place, incongruent against his somewhat boyish looks. He tapped the pen a few times, sighed. No matter how many of these he wrote, it never seemed to become instinctive. He means sure, he could make a boilerplate copy and paste kind of job, regret and faux-grief rolled into a professional package, but that didn't feel right somehow. He almost smiled at that revelation - let those who said he had no heart eat their words. He didn't want to hurt those who suddenly found they had a gaping wound in their life any further than they had been.

And so he thought about Magnus, what little time they'd had together. What his impressions were, what phrases stuck. Magnus had an uncanny ability to arrive precisely one second before the change alarm finishing ringing and so was never technically late. Magnus hated his first name with a passion and had once been on a charge for lamping someone who called him Archie. Magnus who had one front tooth slightly chipped from the sudden impact of a poor landing when he was back in basic training.

Magnus who had died clawing at his own throat as they translated out of the Warp. They had found him too late, believed him when he said he'd be back in a minute, he'd just forgotten something. Lance tried to instil a fucking buddy system when at Warp but people slip up. They aren't perfect, no matter how much he strives for them to be. It was nobody's fault, not really. Except he was the officer. So it was his. And that was fair.

He wrote a few lines, commending Magnus's fierce spirit and tenacity. A polite way of saying he was a pain in the arse sometimes. Lance hoped his family would know that, would know that beneath the officer's distance there was real and profound affection there. He wouldn't deliver the letter itself - he'd delegate that. Not from any emotional cowardice on his part as people crying didn't really stir any negative emotion in him itself, but because people didn't want to cry at an officer of a certain rank. It was uncomfortable for them and they didn't need that additional stress in one of the worst moments of their life. He glanced down at the next-of-kin list. Two partners onboard, a father planetside. Not as bad as it could be. No dependents.

He glanced at the forms next to him for the cremation, the schedule for family to be sent his personal effects from his locker and bunk space, such as they were. He had already doublechecked his last wishes, made certain there was some sort of will (not that he had much to give that he hadn't already shared with his family mind, good lad). All the minutia and detail that didn't just make up a life, but made up a death. There were details to root out and act on, things other people could forget but not him.

Speaking of, he almost forgot - pastoral care. He scrawled down a note on his dataslate to schedule in some extra chaplaincy from the duty priest. More than a couple of poor fuckers had seen what was left of Magnus. They were going to need some moral bolstering and then some. When he had see the body, he had felt the hard thump deep in his stomach, the drop that wasn't surprise as such but more like a long dropped shoe finally meeting its destination. You were always waiting for the next.

He signed his name, the flourish looking out of place with the cold, impersonal typeface. The name was important here. People wanted to know their loved ones had been thought of, memory preserved, in the mind of someone important. That they had felt some measure of pain, of sorrow.

Was Lance sad? Yes, he realised. Magnus was a cheering presence, promising. He wouldn't miss him, he never missed anyone but Astrid and his mother but for a while he would keep feeling the lack, like the tongue running over the space where a tooth once was.

Tell you what though, only one of his lost on that warp translation? Fething lucky.

______________________________________________________________

Engine Tertius

The first chance he got, Lance went down to the engines and made a nuisance of himself. As he wandered down (allowing himself to get liberally lost on the way, gotta learn the ship somehow), he slipped a pair of earplugs in. He didn't need to fuck up his hearing any more than a lifetime of machine bothering already had. You learnt after the first time that some of the safety notices meant business. You could tell when you were going the right way by the strength of the vibrations coming up from the floor. People unused to void travel would sometimes complain about how their muscles felt afterwards but Lance found it deeply soothing. He hip bumped the door open and took a deep breath, the smell of oil and hot metal rushing to meet him.

His eyes went to the moving parts first, giant pistons, great fans stretching up and out of sight. Steam hissed from great pipes, snaking in every direction. He walked out onto the gangway and looked down to see the other bridges and viewing platforms, tech priests moving this way and that, data slates or tools in hand. When he snapped back to himself properly, he realised two lay-mechanicus, had frozen like rabbits in headlights. He had not warned them he would be visiting. Where would be the fun in that? He didn't want to see the clean, shiny parts of the work here. He wanted the dirt and sweat and hard work. He introduced himself cheerfully, asked their designations, their specialities until he saw their prehensile tentacles relax a little. He could not, however, convince them to let him roam alone so one of them scurried off to find a more senior tech priest to give him the tour.

While it did that, Lance found the nearest shrine and dipped his fingers in the engine oil, repeated a prayer in binaric code. He always found the Omnissiah easier to reach in some ways, grounded as They were in nuts and bolts, tangible machines that promised life or death. You followed the rules and you got results. If something went wrong it was because you had broken a rule. Easy. When he stood up from his prayer the senior tech priest had arrived and was looking on approvingly. A good impression he didn't even intend to make. Five more minutes and they would be cooing over his spine, mark his words.

They walked to the edge of the gangway together and Lance got that rush of vertigo that was more like an urge to jump when he peered over. Gears ground together, pistons fired. One could get philosophical, thinking of the simplicity of being a cog. But machines were his escape from philosophy and he refused to indulge it.

The tour took the better part of two hours and by the end of it his feet were protesting mightily. He didn't care. He had that fizz and energy about him, that light in his eyes. And he couldn't be stopped when he insisted on helping, rolling up the sleeves of his boiler suit and borrowing some tools from a very squeaky and meek enginseer. With an air of great resignation, the senior mech assigned him to a troubleshooting team, muttering something about making himself useful.

Which, to their surprise, he did. And he was therefore a little more welcome down on the engine decks, as long as he pitched in. An audience they had no use for but an eager semi-mechanic. That they could work with.

_____________________________________________________________

Mischief on the Flight Decks/Asleep in a Cupboard

Sometimes being an officer was hard. Not for the long hours, impossible choices or backbreaking work. No, the greatest trial of an officer was when your ratings got ideas in their head. Sometimes you could knock it out of them with a stern word or two. Sometimes no force on this sector could and changing their nature was akin to changing the course of a raging river.

Which was why, right now, he was wedged in-between the box of spare flight suits and the machine waxer in the flight deck cupboard, knees up by his chest and head resting against the back wall. He had brought a ratpack in with him, as well as a thermos of recaff. Who knew when it would be safe to go out. He had resigned himself to living here for foreseeable. Outside there was the unmistakable sound of a scuffle. Lance winced and sent a message on his dataslate to warn Med.

It had started innocently enough. Scramble drills. Streamlining the process as much as possible. He'd wanted to shave three seconds off their current time. So he had stood with a stop watch and a whistle, blowing it at every interval they should be changing tasks. The problem had started when in some slight exasperation, he said they should be able to do it backwards and blindfolded. In hindsight, he definitely shouldn't have said that the most efficient could have his ration of cocoa for the day. The element of competition to pilots was like blood in the water. He was the same when he was their age. And just like them, he also would have started sabotaging his opponents. He made a deal with himself that if it sounded like anyone was drawing blood he would emerge from the cupboard. Other than that, he settled himself in for the long haul.

He was in there for exactly seven and a half minutes when he heard the crisp sound of the boots he doesn't usually hear on the flight deck floors. He froze. Held his breath. Hoped that the noise had been some sort of terror based hallucination. But there was no mistaking the final step or indeed the silence that followed. He closed his eyes. The steps came closed and then there was a polite rap on the door.

"D'ya hear there Flight?"

He let out his breath, unfolding his limbs and resigning himself utterly. "Yes sir."

______________________________________________________________ Bridge Crew

There was just something intensely satisfying about the walk up to the bridge. He had to stop himself grinning on most walks up there. He took stairs two at a time, swung on bannisters at the bottom. It sort of felt like he had made it. That all the stupid work, all the endless hours, all the sleepless shifts had actually led to where he wanted to be. And he had done it. Not his last name, not his connections. But because he was damn good at his job. Bridge and Nic would not have promoted him otherwise. They had shown that they didn't give out favours, didn't deal in pity. Is this what actual achievement felt like? He hadn't felt it since his last, actual promotion before the Inquisition had happened to him and sucked all normalcy and joy out of the work.

He was welcome here. There was a place for him here.

With that realisation came the clear weight of responsibility - but not the type he shied away from or rejected. This was the responsibility of rank. He had to become the image of the best officer he could imagine. He had to set an example in his manner and presentation, not just in his decisions or actions. No more fucking about, no more picking fights or insolence (though truly, he had been out of that phase for a good long while, this was simply the culmination of those efforts). Just the work.

The ship under his feet thrummed more noticeably than the Chaser, reminding him of all the Countless naval ships he had walked on before. None of them had ever felt like home, until now.

He scans his pass and the door opens into the Bridge. "Right, what have we got today?"

______________________________________________________________ Repairs (flight deck 2)

Flight deck two had taken a hell of a beating. He stood, hands on hips, looking over it. The tech-priests had been hard at work to at least get it void-sealed, no longer quite the gaping wound it was and unlikely to kill anyone just by standing in it. This had, to say the least, taken some doing. Even now there were priests skuttling up and down the walls like mechanical spiders.

The upshot was, that while it would of course be returned to original spec, there was a little room for personalisation. Or at least, for things to be where he preferred them. Though this may look like an absolutely fucked flight deck, it was really a blank canvas. Call him an optimist.

He glanced at his timepiece. He technically had an hour before his next immediate task, give or take. He lived life by a schedule generally, it kept his nose clean and stopped him from the biggest enemy a person like him could have; empty time. Repairs weren't strictly in his job description. But going above and beyond was the sign of a good officer. Nobody could hold him doing more work against him.

He rummaged in his kit for his rebreather and goggles. For all that he fucked about, he did not fuck about when soldering. Not least because the tech priests he used to bother incessantly to teach him lessons refused to unless he was elbow deep in PPE. And the cogs here would trust him more if he didn't act like an idiot. If he showed he revered the holy teachings just as much as they did.

In another life he would have been a tech priest. And he would have been both bloody good at it and damn happy. One of many ways being a Durovera had screwed up his chances at life long satisfaction and happiness. He could add it to the books.

Soon he was set up in a corner, reenforcing some of the hull panels. The air smelt of hot metal and the noise of sizzling was a balm to his overwrought soul. It was also a good way to get to know the ship. Syncing with the manifold was one thing sure, but the physical bit was important too. Walking the sections was a good start but you also had to feel. Put your palms on the metal, know the noise it makes when it's hammered, know exactly what makes up each section. If he was going to be using the flight decks, he wanted to know exactly what it was made out of.

And maybe, just a little, knowing he had helped heal part of her would endear her to him. He even resisted the urge to add his signature.

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

Hangover

He groaned. His head pounded in time to his heartbeat and he could swear he felt his pulse in his feet. He felt bruised all over. He opened one eye warily, immediately squinting at the white hive light filtering in from the corridor. His mouth tasted like ashes. Every muscle made their complaints known as he pushed himself into a sitting position, having to stay very very still once upright in order not to vomit on his feet. He was about now he became faintly aware of the body next to him. And a few moments after that, the other sleeping forms in the room.

He was still wearing his trousers so there was a solid chance he hadn't slept with any of them, though you could never really be entirely sure. It was Astrid asleep beside him though, blonde hair slightly tousled, her brow furrowed even in her sleep. Who's flat even was this? He wondered, untangling himself with the same approach as if he was dodging a laser maze. Oh, it's a club back room. He realised belatedly, looking in vain for a sock or shoe, ideally his though beggars could not be choosers. At least some common sense had made him keep his damn shirt on - nobody needed to see the state the carved decagram was in.

The raivans must have, wisely, buggered off, so it was Charity and a few other hangers on passed out. None of them were Pyke from a glance, which was good. Though now he thought about it, he did have a distinct ache in his jaw that suggested some violence. Faintly, the memory of a doorman bubbled up to the top. He closed his eyes at the recollection of exactly what he said. "I'm Lance fucking Durovera." He thought he had grown out of that phase but apparently whatever was in the red dust he had been throwing back like shots brought it out on him.

One night. He told himself sternly. And they weren't even like, proper drugs. You got it out of your system and now never again, got it? But he was already missing the soft buffer of chemical fog between him and the real world, even if they were a bit juvenile for his tastes.

But it had, evidently, been a fun night. Drinks, dancing, actually blowing off some fucking steam, celebrating Esme doing the moral thing and removing herself from his concerns forever. He had the bone deep satisfaction of a hedonist who had indulged some vices. The nice ones, the shiny allowed ones. Nobody could blame him for needing some off time.

He put his foot on the floor and immediately onto a shard of sharp glass. He stumbled into a sitting position, wincing as he pulled out the shard, holding it up in the light to see how much slick red blood it had drawn. More than nothing but hardly serious. If a cut foot was the only consequence of this evening, well, he had little to worry about.

______________________________________________________________

Burnt at the Stake AU

Their knees were shredded from when they stumbled and their captors kept walking. They tried to keep their footing, underarms aching from the tight grip keeping them up, but it was hard when you couldn't see. The blindfold around their blue eyes was tight and left them in utter darkness. It at least stopped the sweat dripping into their eyes - the day was unusually hot and the sun was merciless. Cal could feel the back of their neck starting to burn. Their lips were cracked and dry. Cal wondered if they passed out, would the captors just carry their body, dragging it behind them? Probably. But that wasn't how they were going to face their death. They would face it on their feet, God Emperor help them.

The burning and the heat didn't bother them as much as it might have. The sun only served to remind them of their Love. They tilted their face up, a small smile appearing as they felt the fierce burning of devotion they held in their chest mirrored on their skin. How else does one prove one's love but by enduring?

Though they could not see, they could certainly hear. It had layers. Below everything else, the whispering. Concerned citizens leaning in close, telling tales about the dangerous witch. Then, the talk. Concerned parents, gossiping neighbours, arbites telling people to move back out the path, don't worry, everyone will be able to see. Then the shouts. The jeers. The village children shrieking with imagined fear or courage as they pass.

It was hard to stay brave. Despite everything, they were still a person. They still bled when a stone thrown by a child caught the back of their leg, sharp. They swung wildly between fierce pride, the joy of defiance, the joy of absolute certainty. And then the small part of them that shied from this hated. That didn't want to die and especially didn't want to die alone.

The soundscape changed a little and the dust underneath their feet changed to cobbles. They were in the town square. They took a little savage pleasure in knowing their bleeding feet would leave ruddy streaks on their pristine stones. One thing they had learnt while travelling the sector - take your wins where you can. If they ruined so much of one of this crowd's day, they'd consider today a success.

They tried to comfort themselves with other things too. That being killed meant they were a threat. That killing them like this would spread knowledge of who they were more than a year of preaching. That the Chaser crew, wherever they were, would remember them. Maybe even fondly, if Cal didn't get their ego in check and allowed themselves to hope. Even now there were points of light in the darkness that surrounded them all. You just had to look with new eyes.

They were steered up some steps that left splinters in their feet. Then they weren't on steps at all, a wooden platform with - ah. So it was going to be at the stake then. They had hoped for hanging, a gunshot. They tried to keep their chin high, back straight. But their hands, tied behind them trembled as if it were winter. And now, there, the inevitable stake and being lashed to it as if they were on a sailing ship and the sirens were calling -

Then, deliverance. Because the Emperor was kind and loved them very, very much. Deliverance did not come in the form of being spared, rain or everyone condemning them falling down dead. It came with a warm hand brushing their own, a fellow prisoner about to share their fate.

"Good of you to join me Cal, even if you are running rather late, old chap." Cal took a sharp intake of breath, scrabbling and twisting their hand until they could hold it tight in their own. Close by, the crackle of purifying flame began. And for the first time all day, Cal smiled.

______________________________________________________________

Medbay

He lay in the medbay bed, breathing erratic, eyes closed, dark freckles stark against the paleness of his skin. From the inside of his wrist, vines grew out and curled around his fingers, some moss crept up his throat. The bright blue sack of opia hung beside the bed, nestled between a multitude of monitors and tubing. Occasionally his eyelids would flutter, as if dreaming. The first order from Med after all the work had been done and rounded up had been for him to sleep, after seeing the dangerous sway in his walk once they were back aboard the Despite proper. If he was being honest with himself, the quiet of the bay and the crisp whiteness of his sheets had comforted him more than he would like to admit, and as soon as the immediate treatment was over, he had barely time to put his head on the pillow before he was asleep.

When he woke back up, the bay was on its night cycle, the lights dimmed and any voices from the medicaes hushed. His fingers twitched under the pillow for his pistol before he relaxed, remembering where he was. He groaned a little as he shifted, though it felt as if he was somehow feeling the pain from a great distance away, where he could dismiss it as unimportant. He also knew exactly what caused that feeling and quite how bad it was, but he dismissed that thought too. He had died. He got a few days off from thinking about that.

He turned his head. In the seat next to the bed, Astrid sat, asleep. Her blonde hair was escaping the tie, the top button of her tunic was undone. He watched her chest rise and fall, lit by the eerie light of the monitors. She looked tired. He reached to his side table and retrieved his time piece, blinking at it. Ah. He had roughly been asleep two days. That explained some of the half-dreams he had had, of Recce slipping needles into his skin under the supervision of Med, her changing the saline bags. He assumed it was wishful thinking, his brain seeing what it wanted to see. But no, he shouldn't have doubted. Of course she was here. He shifted again and couldn't help a small smile when his fingers brushed something laid beside him. The sealskin. He pulled it up to bury his face in it. It smelt of salt and the sea, so therefore Lewick, therefore Astrid.

The movement must have woken her as when he surfaced, her eyes were open and resting on him. "Hi." "Hi." She reached out her hand to him and he shook his head, moving onto his side and across the bed, leaving a gap for her to climb into. In a small flurry of boots and arms, they were ensconced next to each other, foreheads resting together. The opia made him a little clumsy so Astrid untangled the various wires and tubes before settling completely. He had a thousand things he wanted to say, but it was Astrid, so one glance and he had said all of it. He relaxed, his hair being ran through Astrid's fingers. He was sure he was moments away from sleep again. The thought didn't inspire him in the buzzing annoyance that sleep was interrupting his day. It felt alright. He let himself fall again.

______________________________________________________________

Extreme Measures

"Sir, Lance isn't breathing - "

Lance's body arches before slamming back down into the medbay table hard enough to rattle his teeth and he hears a distant keening sound that he realised a moment later was him. His nerves feel like they're on fire, worse than when they haywire, worse than when he's jacked in and the Lightning is hit. He's sobbing too, begging for it to stop, begging to a god he knows is not listening. He can't even beg the other being that restored him to life - rejected by that too. Not Nic or Bridge either, they're not here. Why weren't they here? His heart twisted a little at their absence before - unimportant, Astrid was here so he could call on the only two things he could rely on; him and her. Then Med arrived, blessed angel that they were and listened to him when he said he wanted drugs. Flooded his system with opia. Felt the blissful quieting of his body and mind he hadn't felt in eight years. Bit by ragged bit, he got himself under control, managing the juddering pain, trying to find the satisfaction he sometimes felt when he hurt himself. It didn't really work but it worked enough that he could open his eyes.

The raivens were close and they had given him a knife and they had not let him die. They had guarded his body and even if they did not know it, guarded his soul. He reached out his hand to grasp whichever was closest, unable to form words of gratitude just yet. The contact made was momentary though as a second later he had been wrenched up into Astrid's arms. He hadn't seen her like this in a long, long time. She was shaking all over, pale, undone. Her embrace rattled his bones, everything aching and burning still, but no force in this sector could make him push her away.

A little while ago, he was alone in the dark, being offered a deal. Then had been dragged back to this brightness, this theatre set of a world and the gratitude was almost as vivid as the pain coursing through him. He didn't know what he would have answered - no, that's a lie, he did. Did he even have any other option when Astrid was here? He made a promise to her he intended to always keep. If he didn't come back under his own steam, you could bet she'd be marching into hell to drag him back out.

______________________________________________________________

Clean-Up

Personally Lance thought there was a lot to be said for rounding up all the planetary nobility and firing them into the nearest sun available. They irritated him. They were not proper nobles and seemed to be under the impression being cruel made them so. Made all the more ironic by the fact they were amateurs in the cruelty olympics as far as nobles went. Try playing chess on a sector wide level and then you got to sit at the adults table.

Nic was going to make some recommendation to Conclave about ways to shore up the stability of the planet, something clever and socio-politically complex, pulling in Gearwrights and all sorts. If he was a better person, Lance might have felt some vague obligation to stay and see it through. But fundamentally he still hated this backwater place and would cheerfully chew off his arm rather than stay another day in the land where tech comes to die.

He hoped the servants had resisted the best efforts of agents to recruit them. You'd think that civilians were stray pets with the obsession some people got about keeping them. He wasn't sure they had considered the inherent cruelty that joining the Inquisition necessitated. Aside from the lifestyle and the physical dangers of the job (of which there were many), by joining they were of a heightened risk for corruption, been given more opportunities to have their soul eroded. Better to give their minds a wipe and set them back on the boring, safe path through life until they died and went home to the God Emperor. Or whatever.

But maybe this was part of being the Inquisition too, if you weren't careful. Slowly you start considering yourself the type of person that got to make the choice over someone's fate. That for a joke or some pleasant company, you got to tell some innocent the secrets of the universe. Nobody could tell you no, after all. You were the Inquisition. Lance, a man known for treating people as things, found this idea unsavoury. It was the careless nature with which it was done. If you harmed someone, at least have the good grace to do it on purpose.

____________________________________________________________

Angles of a House

They were all going to die and it was his fault. He had made a bad call. The first real mistake in his Inquisition career so far? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that a yawning chasm had opened in his stomach. His hands gripped the bannister, knuckles white while the rest of him went perfectly, dangerously still. Lance counted his breaths and watched Nic on the vox, co-ordinating with Recce. A thousand calculations ran through his mind, a hundred actions he could take. He wouldn't arrange another rescue mission for fear of it being a recursive problem. He would, however, as soon as Recce stopped replying on the vox, go in by himself and rescue her.

He understood that other people's minds hurt when they were in the Mirror-House. That the angles and doors cut into their vision, formed patterns that made no sense. Except they did make sense to him. He could move within it and his brain didn't stutter over how impossible it all was. This was ultimately unsurprising, but it didn't stop him finding the entire thing distasteful. But maybe he could use it for the better, find things quicker. They should have done that in the first damn place.

He felt an odd sort of resentment towards those he set out to rescue who had pulled, let's be clear, some bullshit in order to get out. Without having the good grace to let him know or appearing somewhere he could notice them in time. Frankly bloody rude. Next time he won't bother getting a rescue and they could continue being eaten by void fish at their leisure. He was projecting. He knew he was projecting. But the tight knot in his stomach would not disappear until he saw Astrid, whole and alive, and so he would keep waiting.

______________________________________________________________

Noblesse Oblige

You have a duty to those lesser than you. Lesser in power, status, rank. If you were in a command chain with them, that chain shackled you tight to responsibility. Generally it manifested for Lance in the relationships with his subordinates, his pilots. He did not order them around frivolously or cruelly, he did not use them as cover for his own mistakes, he did not take pleasure in punishing them. He had, in the past, been assigned under officers that did not share this philosophy. He had the scars on his back and the chip on his shoulder to prove it.

Servants counted. You treated them like people. You said please and thank you. You asked how they were, didn't ask them to do things that would get them into trouble, defended them if a mistake was made performing a task for you. Lance would be the first to admit he was an utter brat to his tutors and nannies growing up, but he had firstly never crossed certain lines and secondly had grown out of it. He'd even written some apologies when he crossed paths with poor Mr Templeton and Mistress Radcliffe.

The way the nobles were acting here was wrong. Not just morally, but socially. Torturing those under your power showed nothing strong about your character. It made Lance think of little boys with magnifying glasses and ant hills. He kept his face carefully calm and dispassionate when he saw a brother strike a maid across the face, even as his blood jumped inside his chest, telling him to go over and show him what real cruelty could be. The image of taking the dagger and sinking it into his chest - no, better, wrapping the maid's hand around the dagger and guiding it into his gut was delicious.

He shook his head to clear the thought, kept his hands firmly behind his back. He would make up for his appalling lack of intervention in other ways. He comforted a few servants over mistakes, gave others biscuits, checked on Heather when she was falling asleep where she sat. Servants were your people. Part of the pack and you protected them. And if the so called nobles of this 'house' would not, Lance would.

He knew what recommendations he would make for next steps when this was all over. Personally he thought they should ask the servants what they wanted to do with their torturers. The thought made him smile.

______________________________________________________________

Guard Duty

He was not naturally suited to guard duty. He fizzed with impatience, always wanting to be where the action was, wanting newness and excitement. Standing in front of someone for a couple of hours was not it. His attention seemed to be pulled away every two seconds, by intense conversations or sudden bouts of violence.

There were worse people to be guarding though. Lady Georgina was nothing like her daughter, except perhaps for the general expectation she would be catered to and for. Which was fair enough in her own house. Lance had dealt with a lot of nobles in his life and she was by no means the worst. Not even the worst in her family. Not even top ten, unless she turned out to be a secret psyker, which wasn't outside the realm of possibility considering George.

Though Lady Georgina felt afraid, Lance also reckoned if they stuck a knife in her hand she would still be more than capable of fucking up any assailant that tried it. She was not helpless, nor did she give the impression of being fragile or precious. One of the reasons he liked her, he supposed. He had no time for those who waited to be rescued rather than climbing out the hole themselves. He wasn't willing to die for Lady Georgina but he was ready to get stabbed for her and would bodily protect her. The thought almost made him sigh in resignation. What a stupid job this was.

Later though, there was the genius idea of assigned his bodyguards to Lady Georgina. At first he thought it was genius because it meant he could wander around, but once he saw them with her, flanking and professional (shades resting on their noses delicately, of course), he realised it was genius because they had a far better chance of protecting the Lady of the House than he did. It was important to know your strengths and apparently protection was theirs.

______________________________________________________________

Sword

It was raining sporadically, but the rain wasn't cold. It fell thick and warm and Lance realised that it wasn't water that was falling from the towering, roiling warp sky, but blood. The smell of it pervaded everything, along with that sweet rotten honey scent that you found nowhere else but here. Behind him the Red Saint was roaring and he swore he could feel the ground move underneath his knees.

Because he was on his knees beside Zaphiel, ignoring the pounding in his head and heart, ignoring the chanting and wailing of the cultists that surrounded them. He wasn't afraid. Not really. How could he be? What he felt instead was a rising sense of panic - panic that not everyone would be coming back with them, panic that he could be left here forever, panic that Zaphiel, the person who was meant to be defeating this monstrosity was on the ground and bleeding. He brushes blood-slick hair from his eyes and then realises Zaphiel is screaming at him.

"Cut it off, get it off!"

For a moment, he has no idea what she's talking about. Then he notices how there's a shimmer around her sword arm, like gold mist in the air. He doesn't like how quickly he grabs her sword once he realises what she's asking.

It takes two cuts. Just two. The first to get through the flesh to the bone. The second to break through the bone and out the other side. Later, Zaphiel would say it was done with surgical precision. He was good with blades and she had kept hers sharp. With some leverage, it cut through her like butter. No bile rose to his throat, no shudders of horror went through him. One moment her arm was attached to her and the next it was not.

He was sent back on his heels as she rose like a dread creature, remaining hand thrusting out to demand that what was hers by right, the sanctified axe. Someone handed it to her, he wasn't sure who, his eyes were blinded by darkness and blood. It wasn't his. He hadn't been hit once. He stood, chest heaving, as he watched her re-enter the fray. There was screaming and he wasn't sure from who. He went back down to one knee to aim another pointless shot with his pistols. Then there was the sound of something tearing -

They were back in the Stanford House. The sudden lights blinded him for a moment, his chest tightening as it readjusted to being in real space. When his eyes refocused, he saw Zaphiel victorious, bleeding and on the ground next to what no longer looked like a warp monster children would have nightmares about, but rather a mutated human in agony. He barely had time to move aside as Pilotspear surged forward. He couldn't stop looking at the wound he had left until Zaphiel had been taken away by medics. He barely heard the 'thank you'. Only then could he focus on what the XO was doing next to the Red Saint.

______________________________________________________________

Foreign Object

Lance felt sick. He was standing by the open manor door, trying to cool himself down. There was cold sweat upon his brow and he knew something was wrong. He wasn't sure what but something. He could feel it in his bones. His blood. Things moved past him slowly, sound distorting. It felt like time was a long string being spooled out but ready to snap any second. This was not how his body felt - his heart was hammering inside his chest, beating so quickly it felt more like a continuous hum than a beat. Every few moments a shiver would go through him, no matter how he tried to suppress it. Under his ribs, the wound Astrid had sewn up pulsed. Long tendrils of pain crackled from it, each breath feeling like it did a little bit more damage. As though from a great distance away, as if watching a pict screen, he noted passively that a black border was beginning to creep into his vision.

It was then that he hit the floor.

If he was properly awake, he would have panicked. Because he didn't get sick. He got injured, got patched up, got right back to it. He didn't just drop, no cause, no explanation. It had not even occurred to him that perhaps something was wrong with the wound Astrid had seen to. Now he was shivering uncontrollably, his breath stopping and starting erratically. He could hear someone screaming for supplies. He realised after a moment it was Astrid. Which was wrong. Because Astrid didn't scream. He must be hallucinating because of whatever was wrong with him. He tried to move his arm to put around her but his body had stopped listening to him completely. He realised he couldn't see at all now, actually. He could hear his rushing, pounding blood roaring like the engine of a fighter.

Something pricked the inside of his arm and then it felt like his blood was on fire, burning through every nerve and vein. There was noise again and he couldn't tell who was shouting. Was it him? It might be him. He tried to stop himself and bit his tongue so hard it bled, though the copper tang was welcome as a sensory input that wasn't agonising. He wished for the shivers and fever back, if it would stop whatever this was.

But slowly (so slowly it felt like an eternity, like each second held a thousand years), the pain abated. The water pulled back from the shore. He felt a heft as someone picked him up, murmurs of voices. He was about to open his eyes when someone was apologising to him. He had about three seconds to feel a grim sense of impending dude and then Med was cutting into his (very new! very new and very sore!) wound. He didn't bother even trying not to yell. That ship had sailed whenever someone injected whatever it was into him. Something was tugged out of his flesh and though it was agony, the hot, tight feeling that had been behind his ribs vanished too. A knot of muscles in his shoulders relaxed, just a little.

When he opened his eyes, there was sweat pooled in the small of his back, bright lights above him and Astrid crying. Only one of those felt currently important. Ignore the screaming in your ribs, the stomach that very much would like to throw up and comfort her, you wanker. Who cares if you just nearly died? So did she. And so clumsily, with poor grace and a lot of headrush, he reached for her.

_____________________________________________________________

Transfusion

He settled himself down, putting his feet up on the chair in front. A blood transfusion was as good an excuse as any to stay still for fifteen minutes while having a cup of recaff. He looked over at Astrid, laid out on the table, still too-pale, still a little delirious. He hadn't let anybody else do this. It was more than them having the same blood type - in his head, they had the same blood (convenient, considering by the end of the day they will have all but swapped blood). It was lucky that neither of them were squeamish. He watches the blood pulse down the tubing, from his arm into hers.

Fresh blood was always so much redder than people expected it to be, he found. He remembers a fight he was in when he was about ten, the way that after he had headbutted the other boy, he had brought a hand to his nose, staring at Lance and then his bloody fingers as if Lance had performed some arcane magic. Violence was a type of magic, he guessed. Cause and effect in pretty much it's purest form.

It hadn't been his first fight or even his last. His life would be littered with them, sometimes so closely together you couldn't see the trees for the forest. He'd grow to love them, appreciate them beyond a simple expression of rage or self-defence. Here's the secret nobody wanted you to know: violence could be fun.

Not here though. Not when it happened to Astrid by someone other than him. He put his hand in hers, stroking small circles on her palm. He rested his head on his other hand, watching her carefully, eyes flickering to the door every time somebody walked in. When one of them was downed, the other kept watch. That was the rule for almost as long as they had known each other. Nobody and nothing else would do. Surrounded by enemies, they became the shield of the other. And knife, too.

______________________________________________________________

Keeping Order

He sat down carefully, pushing his protective glasses up off his face. Absently he rubbed the bridge of his nose with a thumb, soothing the soft red mark left there. When the world got too loud and too confusing, and he couldn't retreat into the blissful quiet of the Lightning cockpit, he could at least do this.

He opened his tool box that was also his medkit, much to the distress of both engineers and medics everywhere. He folded out the drawers, not so much as a squeak out of them. To anyone looking over his shoulder, it looked like chaos. Small vials jostling against tubs of oil, syringes rubbing shoulders with miniscule pistons, plastic tubing that may have belonged to either category... But to him, it made sense. He didn't just throw things in. Much, anyway.

He snapped on some gloves, pulling them down with his teeth. Once secured, he dipped into the largest compartment of the box and fished out a coolant fan. The blades had been twisted by something, making them catch when they span in their frame. He retrieved the set of pliers that lived permanently in his back pocket and with indescribable care began untwisting each single piece of metal. There's an unusual singularity to the focus he has now, his eyes on the piece of machinery and not flickering around the room, his body utterly still instead of a foot tapping or leg shaking. People come and go in the room and he pays them no mind, giving out neither greeting nor insult.

After a few moments, he straightens a little, looking at the item this way and that in the pale merwaldian morning light. He parts his lips and blows on it gently, watches the blades spin without any friction. There was a quiet satisfaction in making something work just right. And there was no ambiguity here, no hard choices. Just the subtle movements that meant something was fixed or it wasn't. That simple.

He carefully places the fan back into the box, flashes a quick sign of the Omnissiah, a quick ave. The next item is a small rotary with a grill over the top. He fishes out a toothbrush, the best tool to clean shrapnel out of flesh or dust out of metal. Not for the first time, it flickered through his mind; the alternate life he would have lead if he were allowed to become an engineseer, as he had always wanted. He knew now it would have been impossible on five different axis, but he wished it regardless. He wondered if he'd still be as sociopathic as he was now and decided he would be, it would have just been much less of a problem. He picks up the bottle of sealant, pours a few drops onto his working cloth.

After a few moments, he heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering and pistols firing. He heaved an almighty sigh, recapping the small bottle and taking care to fold the little piece of tech in the scrap of cloth Isto gave him. Once carefully in place, he clicked the compartments back, shut the lid and locked it tight. Then he stood, weary joints (the ones that hadn't been replaced yet) popping in protest. He rolled his shoulders back, clicked his neck either side, then picked up his dual pistols, leaving the room at a leisurely pace to go and murder some heretics.

_____________________________________________________________

Exhaustion

His spine keeps him up. A bit of a tweak he had done himself with a mirror, an extra long set of tweezers and a scalpel. It's technically exploiting a back end mechanism but it isn't a glitch so he's pretty sure it's not heresy. It keeps his top half flush against the wall, no matter how much his shoulders wish for him to sink down. His hips are only marginally less traitorous but the other heroes are his knees. They don't buckle or slip, regardless of how organic they have the misfortune to be.

He too relies on his augmetic sensors. With this many unknown agents he would hesitate over blinking too long, let alone closing his eyes on purpose. But with his reactions, someone could launch a punch at him when he was dead asleep and he was 86% certain he could dodge and their fist would meet the wall. And anyway, he isn't dead asleep. Just resting. His trigger finger rests away from the guard.

Close by he can hear Pilotspear and Zaphiel whispering conspiratorially on the stairs. He feels it as much as hears it, through the soles of his feet. His atmospheric sensitivity is tuned up right to the max. He can feel Astrid close by, though he doesn't need his sensors for that. Nic and Bridge are (with an excitement that was actually adorable) discussing the ins and outs of bat parentage. All in all, it was relaxing. Nothing calmed him more than a shot of adrenaline and mild fear for his life.

He closes his eyes, slows his breathing. Something in his shoulders unclenches. But he doesn't drop his gun and he doesn't stop standing up. Let it never be said that Lance didn't do his share of guard duty. Even if he had to do it unconscious.

______________________________________________________________

Efficiency (pre-Merewald)

For the most part, he was able to keep his temper in check. It took constant work, sure, but he was able to do it. It was a skill like any other. It wasn't that he never got angry - in fact, his irritation and ire was easy to earn. It was that his anger was something to be controlled, used or pushed down. You couldn't particularly earn the respect and trust of your collegues if you fly off the handle every time something went wrong.

But, as there always was, there were exceptions. He had very little tolerance for cowardice or moping. But the true enemies were inefficiency, stupidity and incompetence, often found gathered as a group. In his past, commanders who showed even one of this unholy trifecta instantly found themselves held in his contempt with little chance for recovery.

Is there a more annoying feeling than watching a clusterfuck unfold before your eyes, thinking all the while about how you could have performed it better? Lance's head was always full of blueprints and plans as a default, but watching a command falter sent it into overdrive. His eternal frustration that people could not be simply be moved by chess pieces. He knew exactly who was putting that thought in his head but it wasn't like he could stop thinking it.

He wouldn't accept it on his deck. He drilled his pilots over and over until they could recite flight patterns in their sleep, dreaming of star charts all the while. His standards were punishingly high but he would help every single one of them to meet them. Their failures were his failures after all. He would make the Despite deck something to be envied fleets over or die from disappointment. You know, so proportionate expectations.

______________________________________________________________

Disappeared

It happened every time without fail. Despite the fact she was always alright, despite the fact she had returned back to him every single time. That heady few seconds after a mission, his heart stopped. He would count, he would search the (inevitably inconveniently gathered) crowd until he saw her. Then his breath would return back to his chest and his heartbeat would be allowed to resume. He was fairly sure he would never grow out of it. If this much time in the Inquisition hadn't, he saw no reason why any more time would.

It wasn't that he didn't trust in her or her capabilities. Quite the opposite - it was far more likely she would come back to base than he would on any given day. It was more that he didn't trust in the unfeeling, ironic universe they had found themselves in. People he loved died or disappeared - no melodrama, just cold fact. Acolytes and sailors died even more often. The odds were just not in their favour.

Back on Merewald, the endless hallways had snatched her and he had felt with some animal part of his brain that she needed help. And so in he went, giving away some part of himself in order to get her (and to a lesser extent, several others) out alive. It was a worthy trade. He'd do it again. No hesitation.

When Bridge and Nic talked about hard decisions, he supposed this was exactly what they were talking about. The eternal balance of duty versus love, logic versus emotion. For everyone else he knew, Lance's sense of duty and logic would win out every time. He did his work and he did it well, putting his feelings into a box to be ignored until eventually a time came where he could air them. If it came down to Astrid versus the Entire Sector, he knew exactly what he would choose.

_____________________________________________________________

Scalpel

Lance was starting to feel like he was terminally unlucky. He hadn't quite gotten to that point previously, despite the myriad of indicators (metaphysical and otherwise) that told him so. But now he was lying on the med bay gurney for the fourth time in as many hours, he had some sort of inkling that maybe the universe was against him. The nerves in his arm hissed and fizzed, refusing to respond to his demands to move fingers or bend at the elbow. This fucking arm. He swore an oath to himself he would take it off personally.

He wasn't a stoic patient. He screamed and bucked and shuddered. Even the not-insignificant part of him that enjoyed pain couldn't ignore his body's survival responses, the involuntary reactions that were encoded in every part of him. Usually it was Astrid pinning him down, keeping him still but it had been Nic, Gwyn and one or two other poor sods. It was a thankless job, as the bitemark on Gwyn's shoulder attested. He wasn't sure if it was the sort of thing you could get better at, but he supposed with the rate of his injuries, he would soon find out.

The scalpel split his skin. He felt the warm, vibrant trickle of blood slide down the inside of his wrist. It came in low pulses as his heart beat. Part of him wanted to put his mouth to it, like when you got a paper cut. Part of him wondered if you could see right down to the bone. His teeth were clenched so hard it hurt his jaw. Funny no matter how much pain you felt, there was always room for more, other places to put it. His fingers twitched, involuntarily as Med pressed against something.

He found it easier to picture what was happening if he thought of his arm like a machine. Veins as tubes carrying fuel and coolant. The pistons in his joint, pushing and pulling. Nerves carrying motive force - well that bit was pretty much the same. Except machines were better. Machines were sensible enough not to bother with pain sensors. Humans were very badly designed. He wanted a word with the creator.

Whatever Med was doing was over. The sharp, bright slices of pain had blurred into a steady, dull pulse. Luckily it was early enough in the day they didn't need to resort to stitches yet. They could afford to use the spray. The thing was though, this healing wasn't magic. It wasn't like what biomancers could do, blending away wounds so it was like they never even happened, your mind the only memory the body had left of the injury. It would still be present, unable to be forgotten completely.

He sat up on the med table, ignoring the headrush, determined to vacate the space so the next needy soul could be carved up. Space was at a premium. There was always someone waiting to be seen. No gentle recoveries here. Back on your feet, back to work, before the blood had even dried.

______________________________________________________________

Drowning

It wasn't the impact that knocked the air from his lungs - that was the cold. It invaded every inch of him, robbing him of all sensation that wasn't the thousand pinpricks of ice driving into his skin, his nose, his throat. The next thing he managed to register was pressure, the weight of the water on top of him, around him, below him, pressing as hard as it could. Even when he closed his eyes, the pale blue light pressed through his eyelids.

The second attempted breath was more painful than the first. He was sure he could feel it in his spine. In the thousand thousand deadened and dying nerves spread across him. Some of them will never be the same. He kicks to try and make his way to the surface, but the cold has leeched strength as well as warmth. He can barely feel his legs moving, certainly thinks he's kicking harder than he is, he's telling his brain to go as hard as he can so he must be. He wonders when the peace kicks in. People always said drowning was peaceful.

His muscles didn't feel peaceful. Nor his robbed breath, his rapidly fogging mind. But he supposed the darkness edging into his vision, blotting out the pure and beautiful light that had been making his head ache was peaceful. He reached out for it, fingertips brushing it and finding it soft and welcoming.

That was when everything stopped.

Eight minutes of nothing. No thought. No heartbeat. No breath. Just a small, cold body, lips blue and eyes closed. When it was wrenched from the water, eyelashes stuck together with ice, everybody assumed the worst. And they were right. Lance Durovera was, for all intents and purposes, dead.

It took electricity, warmth and oxygen to wake him back into life. Some small part of his consciousness had refused to shift, waiting for the body to become a suitable home again. He woke up in a bed, hooked up to wires and tubes and monitors. A miracle not called a miracle because it was called medicine instead. It was a wonder what engineering could do for his damaged nerves, lungs. A few weeks in the medbay and it would be as if he had never died at all.

Falling asleep felt like drowning for a while, if he didn't dream. Tumbling down into blackness where no thought can exist. The pause button of reality. It was frightening, not that he ever would admit such. He didn't even admit being afraid of his nightmares. Fear was something he just had to tuck away. Fear was a secret you kept with yourself.

Afterwards, years afterwards, as he ran his burnt hand under cold water, he thought that he would still rather die by ice than fire.

_____________________________________________________________

No Justice

Who the fuck did she think she was? Did she think that she was the only one who had ever been betrayed? Who had been lied to? Who gave her an exclusive patent on heartbeak? Fuck that. If he wasn't allowed to reap his much deserved vengence, no other fucker got to either. If he had to control himself to work in the service of the Emperor, to bring glory to Her Throne and act as agents of her will, so did everyone else. An unfamilar form of anger built up in him like a tower - the burning anger of the righteous. It was not generally accessible to him. That was for Nic. But now he felt it and felt it with a proud fierceness.

He wasn't even aware he was about to speak until the words tumbled out of his mouth, electric and bold: "No justice but the Emperor's justice."

He felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder, for once not tapping him out of despair or to yank him back from a situation, but one that squeezed in encouragement. He said it again. And again, louder. What was a whisper became something more. It got louder again and he thought that maybe he had started shouting but no, it was something completely unexpected.

People were saying it with him. One by one by one. It became a wave. Crashing over them, each speaker bolstered just a little bit by it. The first time he had offered even a little bit of spiritual strength on purpose. It didn't feel good, not exactly, but there was a satisfaction to it right to his back teeth. A small burning. Maybe if he couldn't always lean on faith, he could lean on this. The belief. The practical. The right words and the right action at the right time. The fairness. Where he couldn't find it, he could at least try and make it.

______________________________________________________________

Sparrow & 35

She actually sang a lot.

Back home there was a lot of singing. Voices raising up out of the fields during the harvest, hymns from the pews during each morning service, lullabies to sleepy children at night. You could almost tell the hour by the song being sung.

Hives didn't work like that. There were always people on shift, no real sense of day and night. Music pumped through many areas but they bore no resemblance to what she was used to. Even the hymns sounded different through a tinny sound system. Even the drinking songs that rang out when the navy lot came down on shore leave were foreign to her too. Transplanted to a new world so entirely, not a single sound felt the same.

She thought Gunner was out on a food run. She had been on a major research binge for two days now and even she had to admit she needed a proper meal, probably some sleep and definitely to get out of her work clothes. She had waited until Gunner had headed out to finally cease working, knowing they would be pleased if they came back and didn't have to coax her out of the paper nest her room had become.

She managed a shower, managed to get into her 'at home' clothes which mostly meant less starch in her shirt. The door to her room hung open. She combed out her long long hair, separating it into two perfectly equal halves. It was so rare it was ever loose. It felt a little like being naked. Already her fingers were working deftly to plait and weave them back into her pigtails.

And as she did so, without even thinking, she sang.

"Your Hay it is Mow'd, and your Corn is Reap'd; Your Barns will be full, and your Hovels heap'd -"

Who knew who had taught her? A mother she only remembered like a warm touch? One of the carers in the orphanage, her plaits one of many to be done each morning? Or was it something that was in her blood, growing and blooming as soon as it was given air?

She didn't hear Gunner come in as her voice drifted across the tiny apartment. They paused in the doorway, stopped in the threshold, listening for a minute more before they shut the door, the snap of the metal cutting the flat into instant silence. Sparrow sung a lot but never in front of anybody. Always alone.

______________________________________________________________

A Monologue (creative writing assignment)

Lance: I’m not sure when I first knew. Maybe there wasn’t any one moment. Maybe it was like… slow. Gradual. Bit by bit and inch by inch I realised I wasn’t good. Great thing for an eight year old to think about himself, right? But I did. I felt like maybe there was something in my bones. Some rot or some disease maybe. Something that you couldn’t just scratch off. It was in too deep. Fuck, I sound maudlin. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I wasn’t like a sad kid or anything. Quite the opposite, by all accounts. A little joyous terror. Probably could have done with being a bit grimmer, for my nanny’s sanity at least. But sometimes it… Being bad gives you freedom. No rules. No listening to people stupider than me, which as it turns out, by the way, is most people. It would explain certain things too. Sorry, me being bad, not me being clever. Things like why mum left. Why dad seemed a little afraid of me, at times. Why I couldn’t sleep at night or why I fucked everything up even when I wasn’t trying to. Pointless to be sad about it though. It’s not like I can change it. Even if I wanted to. Which I don’t, obviously. I’m perfect. Better than even. And modest too, as my best friend Astrid would say. Let me tell you about Astrid. She is the bullet to my gun, meat to my abattoir, my only solace in this fucked up experience we call life. We’re the same, her and me. Soulmates. But not that cutesy disney shit. This is the real deal and it isn’t always pretty. Sometimes I think I’m going to kill her or her kill me or some mutually assured destruction type deal. That’s what love is, real love. The power of life and death, all wrapped up in another person.

______________________________________________________________

[nxthingtxwn]

//Greatly expanded the playlist

Songs Fixed:

Tales of Souls

Vital

Songs Added:

Say It Proud by Kayla Dixon (from Fortnite)

Join Us For A Bite Remix by The Living Tombstone (FNAF fan song, originally by JT Music)

Pretty Heroes by Dabu (from Goodbye Volcano High)

Barrel of a Gun by Little V and Black Pestilence (Cyberpunk fan song)

Who's Ready For Tomorrow by Rat Boy (from Cyberpunk 2077)

Zavodila but only Ruv by Mike Geno (from FNF: Mid-Fight Masses)

Get Jinxed by the Riot Games Music Team (from League of Legends)

Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler (from Shrek 2, Saints Row The Third and Masters of the Universe: Revelation)

I Can't Fix You by The Living Tombstone (FNAF fan song)

It's Been So Long by The Living Tombstone (FNAF fan song)

Idol (Splatoon AI Cover) by DanFourts (originally by YOASOBI)

Calamari Inkantation by Squid Sisters (from Splatoon)

Nasty Majesty by Off the Hook (from Splatoon 2: Octo Expansion)

Anarchy Rainbow by Deep Cut (from Splatoon 3)

Ambiguous by GARNiDELiA (from Kill la Kill)

STAY by The Kid Laroi and Justin Bieber (from Fortnite. Yes, that's my justification for putting it here, shut up)

Fresh (Boyfriend Remix) by Kawai Sprite (from Friday Night Funkin')

High (Future Funk Remix) by Orenji and The Musical Ghost (originally by Kawai Sprite)

Red and Black by GGalactigal (from HoloFunk: Hololive Funkin')

Opening Credits by Jared Emerson-Johnson (from The Wolf Among Us)

Light Up The Night by The Protomen (from The Wolf Among Us 2)

Shinzou wo Sasageyo! by Linked Horizon (from Attack on Titan)

Guren no Yumiya by Linked Horizon (from Attack on Titan)

Jiyuu no Tsubasa by Linked Horizon (from Attack on Titan)

Chippin' In by SAMURAI (from Cyberpunk 2077)

Snow Halation by Mu's (from Love Live! School Idol Project)

LOVE CRAZY by Sumire Uesaka (from Don't Toy With Me, Miss Nagatoro)

MY SADISTIC ADOLESCENCE by Sumire Uesaka (from Don't Toy With Me, Miss Nagatoro)

Colorful Canvas by Sumire Uesaka (from Don't Toy With Me, Miss Nagatoro)

This Is War by 30 Seconds To Mars (look, Voltron has nothing, okay? Lemme just add an AMV song and call it a day)

Just the Two of Us are Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger than You by scibot9000 (Mashup featuring Stronger Than You from Steven Universe)

All Star by Smash Mouth (from Shrek. Also RIP Steve Harwell 😢)

Monster by Reckless Love (nothing really, I just like it)

Doki Doki by Nikki Kaelar (from Doki Doki Literature Club)

Zelda by The Rabbit Joint (Legend of Zelda fan song. NOT by System of a Down.)

Short Change Hero by The Heavy (from Borderlands 2)

How You Like Me Now by The Heavy (from Borderlands 2)

Betrayal by Lita Ford (from Brutal Legend)

Painkiller by Judas Priest (from Brutal Legend)

What's Up People!? by Maximum the Hormone (from Death Note)

[nelapanela94]

Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!

Your mind shouts what your mouth would never spit.

Because before you spill it, you'd rather rip out your tongue or sew your lips together with jute twine.

What you hate most is that he's anchored to the dock of your thoughts.

Stupid midget.

Your fingers fall from the glass. Drops of vinegar and water solution blur his figure, and you wipe away the marks your fingertips stamped on the window. By Levi's mandate–and thanks to his ridiculous obsession–every other day the scouts are obliged to dedicate their heart precious time to the general and exhaustive cleanup of the Headquarters.

Before noon, the entire building must be spotless and immaculate so his majesty, Captain Shorty, doesn't spend the rest of the day flaunting his ass face, shooting death glares to anyone who comes his way.

Y/N is too loud and obnoxious, and her trembling hands are so clumsy.

That’s what he blurted out to Hange a few days after you dropped his favorite mug.

The cloth screeches against the crystal.

From the third floor, the corridor overlooking the stables grants you the perfect angle for your eyes to trace the silhouette of his profile. To draw him again and again; to follow his nimble hands as he grooms his horse.

Is it just coincidence or is it fate's schemes to play with you?

Whoever oversees the scheduling assigns you to a place that offers you a front row view.

If you’re in the kitchen, he’s in the orchard.

If you’re in the east corridor of the fourth floor, he is in the training grounds.

If you are in the bathrooms, he is in the main yard.

It must be someone who gets their kicks out of manipulating the threads of fate as they please, because if it were up to Levi, he'd post you at the farthest point.

It was an accident. No. It was his fault for butting in while you were doing your job oblivious to the power his mere presence wields over you. The chaos he unleashes within you.

That afternoon you were in the lab transcribing the results of an experiment, and he, having nothing better to do, decided to spend the afternoon nuzzled in Hange's books. He stomped in without saying anything, put his drink on the table where you were sitting, very close to the edge, and positioned the rolling ladder in front of the history books section.

In fact, you were never a saint of his devotion, and after that fateful accident in which his cup fell victim, he pinned your face behind a bright red cross under the cheery headline ‘Banned’. Not that it would have been so dire to warrant such egregious punishment.

Still perched on the steps of the ladder, he craned his head over his shoulder. “Oi”

Your eyes scoot from the reports to him as your forefinger stabbed the middle of your chest.

“Who else can I be talking to?” He scoffed, rolling the eyes, his grating tone making your eyebrows plummet into a frown.

“What do you want?” you rasped back, summoning ridges between his brows, his lips pursed together into a thin line. His nostrils flaring like a dragon about to spit fire.

And that was the problem, that with Levi you couldn't act normal, you either became a fluster mess or you used your scornful facade to belie the feelings you secretly hoarded for him.

He swallowed the vexation and sucked in a long breath. “Help me with these.” He nudged his chin to the gold-embossed books before him.

And it was there and then, as you got up from the table, that your body betrayed you. Instead of shifting the chair back, you pushed the table forward with enough force to make the whole thing topple over. And in a slow chain of images, you saw how the cup tumbled and shattered into dozens of pieces that ended up trapped in a puddle of tea.

You slapped your hands over your mouth as Levi’s popped out eyes darted from the mess to you, back to his precious mug.

He’s chest was rising and falling, fighting to smother the flames. A deep shape of red crept across his cheeks. His lips twitched uncontrollably.

He jumped off the step and trampled to the door, his fists clenched by his side. “Clean this mess.” He huffed without looking at you and slammed the door close, the entire building rumbled.

You sighed and rubbed down a hand over your face. You had to start over again.

The glass is crystal clear, but before you slip to the next window, an intrusive arm besieges you. They loom their head to you. “A beguiling view, isn’t it?”

“Hange!” You lurch and a teasing smile rises on their lips.

“When will you tell him?” They continue pushing, a leery glint flashing in their eyes.

You clear your throat, scratching an itch on your head. “Tell him what?” Your voice quaver.

“That you like him.”

“Me? Like him?” You frown, hurling their arm off, and cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah, right. I feel my breakfast sloshing back just by looking at him.”

They scan the floor, then look back at you. “You would have emptied your stomach by now because you have been watching him for a good while.”

You nibble on your lower lip, your eyes scooting in every direction. Face glazed with sweat. Your gazes meet again. “I was just arduously cleaning. Besides, I don't intend to go blind.” Your cheeks sizzle with red.

The brunette wheezes out a sigh, smacking a fist on their forehead. “You guys are hopeless.” They mutter audible enough, raising their shoulders, palms facing the ceiling.

“What do you mean? Why are you talking in plural?” You bellow, but they just ignore you and continue their way.

“Short guys are not my type!!!” Your raging voice caroms from wall to wall.

A harrumph catches you out of guard. Your head hangs forward as you rake your fingers through your hair, and spin around, your eyes ensnaring with his.

“What now?” You growl.

He bites his cheek and sweeps away some messy strands of hair from his forehead. You can’t decipher the look on his face. He’s not fuming; he’s not scowling. Truth is, he seems kind of... off. Uneasy. Diffident. You tip your head to the side, lifting one brow.

“Is it true?” He gulps, leather-clad foot scuffing on the floor, cheeks slathering with pink. “What you just said?” He staggers.

And here begins the war without quarter.

You pluck out the pin from the grenade, and without reckoning, you throw it.

“And what do you care who I rather shag?!!”

You stuff your hands in your pockets before your fingers give you away. They can’t stop shaking when he’s around. No matter how many times you pray that you hate him, that you can't stand him, the truth is that you can't get him out of your head. As if he had planted roots. He’s worse than weeds.

Seething, he emerges unscathed from the shockwave.

His eyebrows twitch, hands curled into fists quivering at his sides, a throbbing vein threads to explode on his flushed forehead. All his irritation sink into controlled puffs of air spewing from his lips.

But you’re not yielding. No.

Though he fires before you bring out the rest of the artillery.

“I can’t stand you!” his bullet scratches your cheek. “You are the most annoying person. You can't even imagine how much your crowing voice and pig laugh irritates me!” He shoots you in the shoulder, but you stand.

“I'm glad the feeling is mutual.” You take your aim. “With that shitty attitude and that fisty face, and your ridiculous OCD, you're going to die a virgin!”

"You're so clumsy, I don't know how you haven't ended up like titan food!"

The shot pierces your thigh, but limping you still aim.

"It's your fault, you idiot. Or haven't you noticed?"

"How the fuck is it my fault?"

"You make me nervous." You shoot yourself in the foot. "You...you..."

Levi’s grimace totters, overtaken by a puzzled look. But he immediately reloads the gun.

“The fuck you talking about?” He takes a step closer

“Nevermind.” You set your jaw so tight threatening to crack your teeth. You loom closer too and jab a finger on his chest. “Because of you I now say stupid things.”

“Now everything is my fault!”

“It is, like your shitty mug!”

A resonant grunt roars in his throat. With a menacing fist, he clutches your shirt and tows you to him. His eyes stab daggers in you. “How was it my fault?”

His voice a throaty rasp seeping through gritted teeth. His breath is laced with mint.

"Why didn't you stay in your office shoving your tea up your ass? Uh?” You splay your palms on his chest and try to push him away. “What the hell did you have to do in the lab?"

He doesn’t budge.

“And since when is the information in that burrow confidential?”

"You just insist on nagging me. You always look at me with that face of constipation!"

And your quarrel goes on, and you don’t notice the two heads peering at the edge of the hallway.

“Haven't they kissed yet?” Mike queries in a whisper, his head stuck out above theirs.

Hange shrugs. "I've been modifying the cleaning schedule for a month now. It seems I underestimated their idiocy."

“Do you have a lump of manure for brain?” Your brows knit together. "You drive me crazy. You're a real pain in the ass! You're so annoying that I can't even get you out of my mind!"

"And that's why I watch you all the time, so I don't have to think about you!"

Little by little the turbulent waters calm down. Both red, but not with rage.

“Do you have plans for Saturday afternoon?” You scratch a spot beneath your ear.

“Five bells.” His grip loosens.

“Main entrance.”

“I pick the place.”

“Wear a blue shirt that matches my dress.”

“And you the perfume that smells like jasmine.”

"And don't even think about combing your hair back. I don't want to walk next to someone who looks like they've been licked by a horse."

“Let your hair down and put on red lipstick.”

"I like chocolates."

"I'll bring you flowers."

Without looking him in the eyes, and with red-hot cheeks, you reach out first. “Deal!”

"Good!" He grabs your hand and gives you a firm shake, as if you've closed the deal of the century.

On the battlefield, the chasm between the two closed.

[shoutogepi]

A Million Times Over, part 2

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𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Todoroki Shouto x American!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 6.4k 

[ ☀︎, ☁︎, ✘ (nsfw!) ] (series warnings)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : NSFW references (no explicit smut this chapter)

𝐛𝐢𝐨 : You lose all memories from the past five years of your life due to an accident-induced coma, including any recollection of your beloved boyfriend and fellow pro-hero, Shouto. He’s devastated that you don’t remember him, but the both of you are determined to get your memories back, no matter how long it takes. In the meantime, you attempt to rebuild your relationship with him… while also nurturing the spark that’s still very much lit between you two.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : Yaaaaaa babie so part 2 is finally finished! I’m wicked excited to finish the series next chapter and ughhh the smut is gonna be so good omg. Just wait. 

𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : shout out to @shotoh for beta-reading this for me, what a saint <3 

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─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ��*°・ ───

🄸t was warm.

There was something heavy on your middle, but it didn’t feel like a nuisance— it was a welcome weight, one that somehow made comfort seep from your chest and fill the rest of your body with a quiet sense of peace. You hummed as sleep’s grasp on you lightened, the cogs in your mind beginning to turn. The hospital bed had never been this comfortable before, and the acrid smell of antiseptic and bustle of the doctors outside your door was peculiarly absent. Instead, a pleasant scent of laundry and cologne lingered on your pillowcase, making the corners of your mouth pull up in a droopy smile.

Your eyes opened as you recalled where you were, and whose arms you were lying in— whose gentle breaths blew at your hair and tickled the shell of your ear. Letting out a slow exhale, you blinked the sleep from your eyes, legs attempting to move, only to find them tangled with the muscled calves of your bedmate who, you prayed to whatever divine presence that was out there, was still asleep.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

However, when you tried to move away, a low groan sounded in your ear, scattering the stray hairs that laid out of place there. Like a sleeping bear, the arm around your waist curled around you tighter, pressing your entire body directly against the hard contour of his. You swallowed, blinking owlishly as you tried not to think about the sizeable semi-hardness poking into your backside, nor the rough fingertips that splayed out on the smooth expanse of your stomach at the bottom of your shirt, the very pinky dipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts and panties, palm warming your skin just enough to make your heart awaken for the day.

Your breath was caught in your throat, and you didn’t dare move another inch. Even if you didn’t have your memories of the man you shared your life with for the past few years, the moments the two of you had shared throughout the past week were enough to have butterflies fluttering to life in your stomach. The feeling of simply being in his arms, tucked under the sheets and cocooned in his warmth and his scent, it all had your body feeling like it was at peace.

At home.

Shouto’s hand was lying open beside your face, his arm tucked underneath your neck as he must’ve fallen asleep spooning you, and not since shifted away throughout the night. His fingers twitched in his sleep just slightly, and you took the moment to admire the long, slender digits. For a man of his size and stature, they were surprisingly thin, almost as if in another life he could have tickled piano keys for a living. But they were also marred with scars and calluses from his herowork— none open nor recent, seeing as he had taken the last month off to watch over you. Reaching for his hand, you traced the lines on his palm, trailing your fingertips over his skin and finding yourself lost in thought. You wondered if this was how you usually slept, if this was what you woke up to every day…

If that was your reality, you would happily accept it.

Being in Shouto’s arms made you feel safe, protected from the troubles of life. You already harbored silly feelings for him before you had even met him, and now that you had, those feelings had only been amplified, each day spent with him a catalyst to the reaction he triggered in your heart.

You bit your lip, twisting your spine so you could look at him. Holding your breath as you finally laid eyes on him, you took your time to admire him in all his slumbered glory. Your eyes loitered on his high cheekbones, the sharp angle of his jawline, and then the placid expression he donned while he slept, not plagued with the usual lacing of concern that he wore throughout the day. He was so… handsome. In all his hardened, heroic glory, he still managed to look like a prince straight out of every little girl’s storybook. And he certainly had the body to go with it as well— the fruits of his training on full display for you as you marveled at his naked chest.

Your heart leapt into your throat when he stirred, his arm around your waist coming to rub at his tired eyes. Watching his grey eye open slightly, your breath caught at the crooked grin that blossomed on his lips when he locked eyes with you.

“Mmm morning princess,” he rumbled, hand landing on your stomach to push your body backwards into his. He didn’t mind the little squeak of surprise you let out, nuzzling his face into your neck and slinging his leg across your hips once he flattened them onto the mattress. Your face felt like it was on fire, his morning… problem pressed firmly against your back now as he moaned in content, scattering lazy kisses across your throat.

You gasped when his hand on your stomach suddenly jumped up to grope your breast over your shirt, his fingers kneading tenderly as tingles fired across your nerves. It felt good to be receiving his unbridled affection— too good, really, as he started to suck at your neck. Your body cried out for his touch but you had barely even kissed last night— this was too much, too fast.

“Sh-Shouto!”

He paused, head rearing back as he detected the urgency in your voice, sleepy eyes locking with yours with his brows furrowed underneath his frazzled bed-head. It took him a moment before his eyes widened and horror replaced the slumber that had impeded his judgement before, his body jumping to the other side of the bed instantly as his cheeks flushed a bright pink. “I— I’m so sorry, Y/n, fuck— I didn’t…” he stammered, embarrassment evident as the pink turned to red, little flames sprouting on the left side of his head while his eyes flew about, unable to meet your gaze.

You instantly felt guilty, his demeanor apologetic. It was clear that he was frustrated with himself. “It’s okay, I’m not mad, I was just… it was just, um, unexpected?” you tried to laugh but it came out sounding more like a choke.

“Damn it…” Shouto mumbled, his hands coming to drag across his face morosely. The flames that licked at his side sizzled out, indicating that he was no longer so much shocked as he was contrite. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, muffled by his hands that still occupied his face. “It was just… I forgot for a second and... I didn’t mean to— to, well, come onto you. God, I’m sorry.”

You watched him for a second, your heart suddenly heavy with the sadness that leaked from his choice of words. For the first time in a long time, he had woken up with you in his arms, and he had forgotten about the absolute shitstorm of the month he’d had. That was probably how he acted when he woke up normally, as your sweet and loving boyfriend— showering you in affection was his first instinct of the day, and there was nothing wrong with that.

“It’s really okay, Sho. I was just surprised,” you peeped, trying to relieve him of some of the stress that he was so apparently harboring. “It’s not like I hated it…”

Shouto processed your words for a moment before one hand rose from his face, his brow contorted into a mix between accusatory and suggestive. There was a hint of a smile threatening to bloom on his lips, but he remained silent as he stared at you.

“I just meant that— well… we could lay here for a bit before we get up for the day. If… If that’s our usual routine or, if you would be interested in that!” You could feel your face getting hot now, the embarrassment transferring from him to you.

But Shouto chose not to tease you, instead scooting back over to you in the middle of the bed. “You always did like your morning cuddles,” he said, mouth turning at the corners into a smirk.

“Whatever, just— just keep your third leg to yourself, okay? Arms only!” You shared a quick look with him, the both of you shocked that you had really just said that.

But Shouto followed your request, flipping so he laid on his belly before his arm hooked out to bring you into his side, nose pressing up against your ear as you were on your back. The butterflies were back and busy again in your stomach— his touch just did something to you, it was both exhilarating and infuriating when he had hardly done anything. 

“Never heard that one before,” he murmured lowly, snark lurking in his voice. “You’re usually quite fond of my third leg, dear.”

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

The rest of the morning went more according to plan. After a considerable amount of time lying in the sheets with Shouto cuddling into your side, you finally parted ways and went about getting ready for the day. There was a sense of giddiness pumping through your veins as your boyfriend left you stationed in front of your closet, mumbling something about preparation before you headed out.

Mostly, you were looking forward to going on your date. But then, there was also the surprised excitement that came from the sight of your walk-in closet, complete with rows of neatly organized clothes and a built-in wall with shelves and drawers, even a glass display case full of glittering jewels and gems in designs all tailored to your taste. You took a moment to pat yourself on the back. Not only did you seem to have the man of your dreams, but you had also attained your dream closet? If this was truly a dream, you most definitely did not want to wake up.

It took you an absurdly long amount of time to piece together your outfit. It was partially because you stopped to ogle at pretty much every hanger you rifled through, and partially because you were completely unsure of what clothes Shouto particularly enjoyed seeing you in. There was a sneaking suspicion that his preference was for you to not be clothed at all… but it wasn’t like you could go out on your date in your birthday suit. And, that would mean exposing your bare body to him, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that just yet.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t insanely attracted to him— because you definitely were. Just, the situation you were in was a delicate one, and when you did decide to indulge in the physicalities of your relationship, it would be after you had no more questions to ask him. You just weren’t quite there yet.

So, you decided on a pair of dark jeans and a flowy blouse that showcased your shoulders, matching the color of your shoes, belt, and purse. After a quick makeup routine, you chose to spruce up the outfit with a little jewelry, seeing as you had quite an ample selection to choose from. A shiny pair of hoops for your ears came easily enough, but you struggled to find a necklace which would pull everything together. Your eyes wandered over the chains of gold and silver, some shining with bright gems and some intricate enough with just the curve of the metal. It was then that you noticed a simple but very elegant necklace, its blue-topaz pendant catching your gaze. As you inspected the glittering stone, a warm feeling pooled in your chest, and you found your fingers reaching for the jewelry without thought. There was something special about this necklace, but what, exactly, you couldn’t identify.

It was incredibly frustrating. This was the closest you had come to remembering anything since you had woken up a week ago… and while it was certainly progress, it was infuriating to have the recollection dangling just barely out of your reach. You stared at the brilliant cyan gem for another moment before deciding that you weren’t going to remember based on willpower alone, securing the clasp around your neck. If that were the case, then you would have your memory back already, you were sure. You left the room with your shoes in hand, sock-clad feet padding quietly against the shiny hardwood floors while a sour taste dwelled on the back of your tongue.

Yet somehow, the second your eyes met Shouto’s, the feeling of self-loathing was instantly quelled, replaced with a pleasant wave of some feeling you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His eyes had locked onto the stone around your neck right as you walked into the kitchen, and immediately a smile graced his lips as he found your gaze.

You couldn’t help but return one, your eyes flickering to the floor before returning to him, overwhelmed with the tingles that zipped through you. He hadn’t really given you the chance to take in the outfit he had chosen before he left you to dress, and you found yourself appreciating the soft, cream sweater that fell just over his denim-clad hips.

“Wow, you look…” his eyes trailed down your form and then back up, his smile just as full. He let out a soft laugh, head tilting back before his attention returned to you, as if he didn’t quite believe the sight in front of him. “Beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

You already knew you looked good, but still, hearing the compliment roll off his tongue made your stomach leap up beside your heart. “Thank you, Sho. You look beautiful, too,” you teased, trying to downplay the effect his words had on you.

Even though his cheeks dusted with a light pink, his expression remained unchanged, gaze dropping to the pendant resting in the middle of your chest again. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he held his tongue.

Just as you were about to tell him about the feeling you’d gotten earlier, he turned and grabbed some things from the counter behind him, whisking them into his arms. There was a curious look you shot him as you examined the numerous hats he offered to you, one of your brows rising at the variety.

Shouto didn’t give you the chance to ask, launching into explanation without your prompt. “You and I are technically celebrities. So it’s best if we conceal our faces while we’re out in public.” His gaze dropped to the brim of the gray suede boater in his hand, his thumb trailing across the soft material. “I don’t want you ambushed today. The public has missed you while you’ve been out of commission, so if we’re spotted, I’ll have to share you… and I don’t think either of us is ready for that quite yet.”

You nodded, ignoring the giddiness that bloomed in the depths of your stomach at his choice of words. Reaching for a floppy hat, your fingers brushed over his sweater as you grabbed your choice of camouflage. The fit was snug around your head, the silky ribbon tied around the crown the perfect match to your shoes. Shouto put on his hat as well, making sure to tuck the white half of his hair up and out of sight, giving him a faux monochromatic appearance. He wordlessly handed you a pair of large sunglasses, which you slid onto your face without protest. He mirrored your action, choosing a dark pair of aviators that helped disguise his famous scar.

“How do I look?” You asked, doing a little spin for full emphasis. The movement put a little smile on Shouto’s face, his eyes roaming your figure leisurely before he offered a thumbs up.

“Enchanting as always, love,” he replied stoically, the suavity and candor of his response aiding to the warm, swirling feeling in your stomach. But his expression morphed into a playful smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief. “What about me?”

A laugh trickled out of you as he copied your twirl, his execution somehow more graceful than yours. His pink lips curled into a genuine smile at your giggle, ending his mock demonstration in a curtsey. This only caused you to swat at him in exaggeration, taking the first steps towards the door.

“Equally enchanting,” you replied, not a hint of a lie in your voice. Your conviction made Shouto stutter, his grin melting to a flustered purse of the lip. It was then that you took his hand decisively, chuckling as you placed a swift kiss to his cheek. “Ready to go.”

It took him a moment to buffer, but he quickly recovered, a warm flush coloring his cheeks as his fingers squeezed yours. The digits of his other hand curled around the small of your waist, guiding you through the door.

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

Your eyes widened as Shouto pulled the sleek car into the parking space, your surroundings somewhat familiar. When you had asked where he was taking you, he hadn’t revealed any clues, preferring to give a vague “someplace you’ll enjoy” before effectively killing the conversation. You probably should’ve expected it, but surprise overtook you as you turned the sidewalk corner and there stood the cat cafe the pair of you had passed on your way back from the hospital just yesterday.

When you turned to look at Shouto, his eyes were already inspecting your reaction, the excitement written obviously all over your face. He regarded you with a quiet, knowing smile as he opened the door for you, the bell tinkling overhead and the quiet mewls of kittens further inside distinctly ringing in your ears. Right as you stepped inside, a fluffy, smoosh-face cat curled around your ankles, brushing and sniffing at you in greeting. Shouto made a joke about the fluffy beast being the cutest host he’d ever seen, his smile only growing when you laughed in return.

Once you were seated, tucked in a comfy pair of chairs in the corner of the cafe, a waitress came over to take your orders. What took you by surprise was that Shouto ordered for you— the exact confection and drink you were eyeing when you peeked at the menu. He shot you a little smirk at the cuteness of your impressed expression, asking if you’d like to add anything and turning the staff person's attention to you. At your denial, they excused themself, leaving you alone with Shouto once more.

There was a palpable tension in the air between the two of you. Unbeknownst to you, the other cafe goers could practically see the sparks flying between you.

“So… do we come here a lot?” you inquired, taking a tentative sip of your ice water and training your eyes on the top button of his shirt. It was just too intense to stare him straight in the eye sometimes…

Shouto took a moment to reply, looking through his red and white bangs at you fondly, leaning back in his chair before shaking his head. “Truthfully, we’ve never been here before.” He gauged the surprise in your eyes, a little knowing smile resting on his plump lip before he continued. “You always wanted to try this place but we hadn’t gotten around to it… you even picked out the food you wanted in case we came. I hope your tastes remain unchanged? If I ordered something you don’t want, I’ll call the waiter over.”

It was then your turn to shake your head, a quick and decisive answer. “No, you got it right,” you reassured, hands wringing slowly underneath the table in your lap. “The only other thing I wanted to try was the drink you ordered, so it’s fine!”

“Have as much as you like,” he suavely suggested, his tone sounding more like a demand than an offer. Just as he focused his eyes on yours, he was interrupted by a fuzzy orange kitten jumping into his lap, settling into a tiny loaf across his thighs and staring up at him expectantly.

You and Shouto both buffered for a moment before you let out a laugh at the sight of such a tiny creature in your broad boyfriend’s embrace. Shouto began to chuckle too, giving the creature a little scratch under the chin. The kitten meowed happily in agreement, placing its head onto its paws and settling in for a nap. You let the comfortable silence last for a minute before you meandered back into conversation.

“So um, earlier, when we were getting ready to go out…,” your fingers absentmindedly wandered to the pendant resting in the middle of your collar bones. “I saw this necklace in my closet and I felt like it was… important? And then I thought I caught you looking at it earlier too maybe? Do you know if it has any significant meaning or anything?”

Shouto’s gaze remained on the cat in his lap for another moment before it flicked over to you, and once again, you were stunned by the amount of emotion in his mismatched eyes. “I gave it to you,” he answered, his free hand fiddling with the sunglasses that now hung in the middle of his shirt collar. “It was for our first anniversary.”

You didn't really know what to make of that, the newfound knowledge resonating through you as you tried to remember anything about that day at all.

“I chose that color because you said you loved it… the color of my eyes. Or— eye— I suppose,” he gestured to the piercing cerulean orb that rested on his hot side, standing out even more against the muddled skin of his scar.

Your head nodded as you processed his answer, your finger nudging at the handle of your cutlery absentmindedly. “You do have nice eyes,” you mumbled, your veins pumping with a warmth you'd come to recognize as his natural effect on you.

Shouto smiled at that, his gaze focused on the pendant gleaming in the sun’s gentle caress. You could feel the intensity of his eyes there in the center of your chest, the modest amount of exposed cleavage feeling hot under his inspection.

At his silence, you continued on, your flusteredness forcing your mouth to move without much reason. “And— you have great taste in jewelry too, I mean, this is really beautiful.”

“It suits you,” he replied instantly, as if such words required no thought whatsoever.

That just made your cheeks feel even hotter, and a surprised chuckle sounded past your lips, his compliment egging on the butterfly swarm in your belly. “Thank you… I’m glad you have enough rationale to avoid a cheesy heart with your name on it or something.”

Shouto’s eyes fleed yours at that, taking a tentative sip of his water. You watched his pink lips curl into a subtle, knowing smirk. He yelped when you kicked his ankle underneath the table, gaze returning to you. He regarded your inquisitorial expression for a moment before he shrugged, his cheeks tinged with the lightest of pinks. “I have actually given you something like that before…”

You bit your lip, now wanting to kick yourself for making fun of the sweet yet idiotic, classic boyfriend gift. Heart jewelry, of course…

“And you really liked it… maybe almost as much as me,” he finished, and you watched as his blush deepened a few shades.

The waiter chose that moment to deliver your drinks, the conversation halting awkwardly before they took their leave once again.

“I really liked it?” You parroted, perplexed. There was no way you would find such a cheesy gift endearing enough to actually enjoy it.

Shouto adjusted himself in his chair, clearing his throat awkwardly. His eyes once again couldn’t meet yours, his fingertips tapping on the edge of the table. “Yeah it— it’s an anklet… it um, has my initials on the charm…” he mumbled, suddenly shy. “You seem to enjoy wearing it when we… when I— when I take you.”

“Oh.”

Your face felt on fire, neither of you brave enough to look each other in the eye following his confession. There wasn’t much you knew about your sex life with Shouto— though you assumed it to be very much alive, and healthily so— but just by the way he phrased that, your thighs were clenching together at the image your brain so kindly painted you.

Shouto was a big, strong man… one who was very proportional, as you recalled from the incident that occurred this morning. The thought of him taking you made your insides squirm with interest, fluttering at the premise of being stretched around him. You took another sip of your drink before the food thankfully arrived, allowing the pair of you to drop the conversation.

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

After you finished eating, Shouto took you to the trader’s market around the corner. There were people crowding the streets and trickling through the crosswalks, even though it was a late morning on a Friday and most of the population should’ve been busying away at their jobs. The bustle of the city should’ve been overwhelming for you— Shouto kept you close to his side at all times, his gaze scrutinizing any looks that lasted too long toward your direction.  And yet, you were having a blast, flittering about and exploring the vendors’ stands and the numerous trinket stalls that lined the busy square. His hand was always holding yours. Even when you got more invested in the items on display before you, his fingers would linger at your waist, making his relationship to you apparent to any bystanders.

Sunlight streamed down in between the tall buildings surrounding you, reflecting off the windows like mirrors and making you grateful for the shade of your hat. That made you extra thankful for the ghost of Shouto’s hand across your skin, welcoming the coolness exuding off of his right side. There was a light-hearted conversation between the pair of you, and many grannies waved you over to inspect their merchandise by calling out to the pair of lovebirds. The repeated label made Shouto puff up in pride, aiding him to stand tall and retain the advantage he had on you in terms of height.

Whenever your gaze lingered on something for a second too long, Shouto was instantly handing bills over to the merchants, insisting they take the change or at least tipping them appreciatively. By the time the two of you had visited every stall, numerous bags hung from his left arm, all precariously stacked so the fingers on his other hand could remain laced with yours.

He noticed your wary gaze on the bags, your expression giving your thoughts away immediately. “Don’t worry love,” he reassured, squeezing your fingers in his, “they’re no trouble at all.” At your attempt to grab a few and lessen the load, he pivoted and held them above your head. He frowned, keeping them out of reach as you continued your attempt, swatting at him gently.

“Just let me have one at least,” you pouted, your voice morphing into a little whine. That got him to grin, conceding and handing you the smallest, lightest bag of the bunch. He feigned ignorance when you shot him a playful glare in response, choosing now to steer you toward another topic instead.

“Would it ruin the date if we stopped by my office? I just need to drop off the folders I finished up last night, and the building is just a block over. It should only take a minute.”

You shook your head, shrugging your shoulders. “Sure,” you agreed, allowing his fingers to slip back into yours. Having your hand in his felt natural to you, the warmth of his skin welcomed. “I want to see your agency, anyway!”

It was a short walk to his workplace, as promised. The building was one of the tallest in the surrounding area, with sleek windows paneling all sides and reflecting the orange light of the barely-setting sun. The security guards didn’t bother the pair of you, Shouto acknowledging them with a nod as he slipped off his disguise. The elevator opened and Shouto flashed his badge at the sensor, then pushed the button for one of the floors higher up in the building.

In no time at all, the doors opened again and he led you past the couple secretaries that were perched behind their desks. You could feel their eyes glued to your back, and you were sure that the second you were safely located behind the glass doors to the hallway, they’d launch into discussion. The thought slipped your mind as you came round the corner, Shouto guiding you through the nearest door and ushering you into a large sitting room. Two doors were situated on either side of the room, long glass walls dividing the quarters. One door led to Shouto’s office, as designated by the nearby nameplate. The other you were about to read just as it opened, and a familiar, sharp-toothed redhead bounded toward the pair of you.

Immediately you grinned, ripping your hand from Shouto’s as you launched yourself at the famed Red Riot, one of Japan’s finest heroes lifting you off your feet in an enthusiastic embrace. Your laughs echoed around the room, Kirishima’s chuckles following as he spun you around. Shouto watched silently, a small frown adorning his lip while your gleeful laughs met his ears. He hadn’t heard such a sound in what seemed like forever, and even though he was not the cause of it, he couldn’t help but relish in it.

After a moment, Kirishima put you down and pulled Shouto in for a quick half-hug, patting him on the shoulder as his eyes then returned to you. “Well look who it is,” he grinned, his pointy teeth on display, hands landing on his narrow hips. “It’s so good to see you up and about, Y/n.”

“It’s good to see you too, Kiri,” you mirrored his expression, taking in his appearance.

Shouto watched your eyes rove over him, a sour taste developing at the back of his tongue. You had recognized Kirishima immediately— fondly, even— when it had taken hard work and ample time for you to warm up to him. It had taken a week for you to call him by his usual nickname, and yet, you called Kirishima by his own instantly. He could feel himself turning green at the realization, his frown remaining as his eyes sharpened in scrutiny.

“Wow,” you exclaimed after you had fully appraised the hero, even taking in the scarlet costume that had been updated since the last time you’d seen him. “You look great! Five years has really done you well, hmm? You’re totally ripped. Last time I saw you I swear you were shorter!”

Kirishima laughed and toed at the ground bashfully— never one to handle compliments very well. “Ah, thanks Y/n… gotta stay in shape when your costume has you shirtless all day, right?”

Shouto couldn’t help the envy that rose up inside of him as he watched you chatter eagerly with his coworker… even though he knew you had no control of what memories you lost, it still stung to watch you engage with and compliment another man. Especially when he hadn’t received such easy affection from you in much too long.

“You look much better, too,” Kirishima continued, glancing at Shouto as he picked up on the temperature drop in the room. Somehow you didn’t seem to notice the frost gathering on Shouto’s wrist as a result of his displeasure.  “Erm— last time I saw you was in the hospital when you were still in your coma. I was so relieved to hear you woke up! Then I figured it would be easier for you if you didn’t have any visitors, though… that’s what your f— um, Shouto said would be best, anyway.”  

At the mention of his name, you glanced at the half-and-half man beside you, shooting him a thankful smile that had his heart fluttering and his jealousy waning. He cleared his throat and nodded, casting a forced smile at the other hero. “Yes, well… I have to step into my office quickly, would you entertain her for a moment?”

Kirishima opened his mouth to reply, but Shouto was already halfway through the door, leaving the pair of you slightly stunned. You could see him through the glass wall, eyes following him and wondering why his curt attitude left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“So um…” The redhead turned to look at you, prompting you to do the same. “You really lost all your memories of him?”

The question hit you like he had dunked you in ice cold water, and you stiffened up immediately. Kirishima panicked then, eyes growing wide and covering his mouth.

“I can’t believe I just blurted that out— I just… You guys are so in love, I can’t imagine you two not together,” he explained earnestly, his brow furrowed. His honesty made your stomach burst with butterflies, the premise of being loved by Shouto and being able to love him made you feel flustered as hell.

“We are together,” you clarified, and Kirishima nodded. “Just not as together as before, I guess? It’s just… he makes me feel so many things and I barely know him. But he knows me? Like, intimately. It feels like he knows me more than I know myself sometimes. I dunno, it’s just… complicated, Kiri.”

He smiled in understanding, eyes sympathetic as you spilled your troubles to him. It was nice talking to someone who wasn’t Shouto— as much as you liked him, talking to him was difficult because he made you fumble with your words. You said things you didn’t mean to say when you were with him. Kirishima continued, “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you guys are crazy in love. Like, you’re the couple I aspire to be in some day.”

You grabbed his hand and grinned at that, his sincerity making your heart melt. “Awe, Kiri… It’s good to see you haven’t changed from how I remember you. You’re still the sweetest.”

Kirishima laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Just be yourself with him… I think it’ll put you both at ease. You’re really good for each other— he was devastated the whole time you were asleep.”

The admission made a lump appear in your throat, your eyes feeling glassy all the sudden.

“He hasn’t acted this frigid since his high school days… Long before he met you. I think you make him feel relaxed. I mean, that’s how he always looks when he’s with you, or thinking about you. I can tell when we’re on patrol and he’s daydreaming about you, ‘cus he’ll just walk right into a lamp pole.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the image, cursing the timing when the door opened and Shouto stepped out, his eyes landing on you and then hardening as they moved to Kirishima. He stepped toward him, but you intercepted him and laced your arms around his middle instead, stopping him with your embrace.

Shouto faltered at the sudden display of affection, his cheeks growing hot as he locked gazes with Kirishima, his eyes then dropping to the top of your head as you hid your face in his chest. He was frozen mid-breath, completely still as you held him. His cool, clean scent swallowed you as you kept your head nuzzled into his front, his fingers limp as your hand found his.

With a small step back, you ceased your embrace, your fingers squeezing his tightly as your eyes captured his and you gave him a shy smile. His cheeks only darkened, the grimace that had occupied his face long gone and instead replaced with an awed blankness. His lips parted and moved pointlessly, as if he wanted to say something but no sound escaped him.

“It was nice catching up Kiri,” you said, eyes still locked with Shouto’s heterochromatic ones before you turned to the red hero, who was awkwardly looking to the side as he shuffled his weight between his feet.

Kirishima looked at you and laughed awkwardly once again. You began to exit with Shouto in tow behind you, the hero’s crimson gaze following the pair of you. “Ah, yeah, you too! Let’s meet up soon!”

Then the glass door closed, and you were once again in the vicinity of the secretaries' blatant gawking. You pointedly ignored them as you strode toward the elevator, with their soundlessly boss still trailing behind you. As you waited for the elevator to ascend to your floor, you caught Shouto looking at you funny in your peripheral vision. Yet when you turned to look at him, he only reached out and pulled you into his chest.

Caught by surprise, a meek noise slipped out of you before you collided with his pecs once again, his arms wrapping around you to secure you in place. He nuzzled into your hair and inhaled deeply, uncaring of the secretaries' stares.

Only when the elevator arrived did he pull away, to guide you inside and away from the prying eyes. When the doors were closed, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the crest of your cheek, a wisp of his peppermint-laced breath cooling your skin just as heat rushed there from his lips.

“Let’s go home, love,” Shouto murmured against your skin, knuckles nudging yours before your fingers curled around his. You nodded, holding his arm with your free hand and coming to stand by his side as the elevator rushed toward the ground. A peaceful moment of silence fell upon you and Shouto, giving you time for contemplation.

Any sane woman would've taken one look at Kirishima and felt at least a pinch of interest twirl inside her stomach. He was caring and handsome as they come, and yet he did absolutely nothing for you. Somehow when you were confronted with his chiseled abs and warm gaze, you felt less than when Shouto even glanced at you. You concluded that your body was definitely in love with him… and your heart longed to be the same. But part of you still had questions that needed to be resolved before you could really give yourself to him… and little did he know, you would find the answers to said questions so soon.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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ahh i love this sho so much, he’s trying so hard... poor babie 🥺 next part i will be much kinder to him <3 if you enjoyed please be sure to reblog and or leave me a comment •ᴥ• 

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