#i was originally going to fully render this but after i started placing the lighting i quickly decided absolutely not uwu

[leenoe]

[dragonpropaganda]

Not what i was thinking i was gonna post on halloween, but this software is so fucked up it’s scary. Gotta say, the way rain world levels work is utterly fascinating to me. Like, technically and visually. It’s important to note rain world is a 2.5d game here. Let’s get an image example: GW_A24 (which stands for garbage wastes single screen room 24 in room file shorthand)

Note the 3-dimensionality of the space, as well as survivor’s shadow on the curved stone pillar behind it. This is rendered as 2.5d in the gamespace. Now let’s look at the room render in the files:

A... flat .png image? Yes. Rain world renders this 2.5d world from a red depthmap. The overbearing redness may stick out, far from the browns and toxic greens of the room in-game. This is because the game applies palettes

In the bottom left corner, see the palette menu, note the fade palette? yes, rooms get not one but two palettes to play with, which gives much more colour depth and variance in a region.

toning down the toxic fade palette, we get nothing but the sun-bleached grey palette 9, and turning it up...

Yeowch! The toxic hues in full force. Obviously this palette, palette 11 couldn’t be used like this, but with palette 9 as a moderator, it manages to show the intense pollution of the garbage wastes.

Now, as for the origin of the png image, it is created in the rain world level editor. To someone who has not used the level editor, this may seem simple. To someone who has, the mere mention may bring a tear to their eye.

the editor is split into quite a few editors, but here is the most relevant one for this, the tile editor.

One look at this and you might think “hey, those assets look like they were drawn in MS paint, where are my 2.5d objects? And where are the objects lying on the floor?” To answer this, i must elaborate. The tile editor shows previews of the tiles. the actual models, or to resort to technical vocabulary, voxelstructs, would be too impractical to render within the tile editor. The models are, too, stored as pngs, descending from the closest layer to the furthest, with the editor symbol positioned last. As an example, have the “big brick” tile that features prominently. The amount of times a layer repeates is controlled in the tile’s line in the init (ie: [#nm:"BigBrick", #sz:point(2,2), #specs:[1,1,1,1], #specs2:0, #tp:"voxelStruct", #repeatL:[1, 1, 1, 7], #bfTiles:0, #rnd:1, #ptPos:0, #tags:[]])

The RGB layers are used to generate the 3d model for the render, and the black outlines are what are shown in the tile editor.

Non-grid aligned objects, or “props” are placed in the prop editor, and they do use the 3d layers. This is because it is necessary for the prop editor’s function. While the tile editor is limited to the three major layers, the (2.5d) world is made up of 30 pixel layers (well, gameplay objects exist between layers 5 and 6, and water starts either between layer 0 and layer 1 or above layer 0) , and props can be placed as starting from any of these layers.

These are all assembled to make a 2.5d level... in red, green and blue. Not yet in the red read by the game. And also notice: there aren’t any plants! plants are generated by effects, which you can see haven’t been fully applied yet. The dark space surrounding most rooms is one, called “BlackGoo”

I don’t really have the strength of will to elaborate on effects, so onto lighting we go: the sunlight in a room is generated from an often crude monochrome image, which is projected onto the layers of the room after effects are generated, many of the intricacies of the lighting exist through light angle and distance.

In the last stage of rendering, the harsh red lightmap generated by this projection is used to determine whether a pixel is sunlit or in shadow. Light distance and angle are also saved for the game, so that it generates the shadows of gameplay objects in accordance.

All of this isn’t quite how it works but rather... an approximation. The editor still has many strange things, but this is what i’ve worked out from my own experience with it, as well as the experiences both of the modding community and others who worked on downpour. So yeah, basically rain world rooms go between 2.5d and 2d multiple times and it’s fucked up and the level editor is probably possessed by some kind of evil spirit. This piece of software is the hardest i’ve ever had to deal with, and apparently it’s even weirder internally, like half the code is in swedish. I haven’t even gotten into describing how the blues work, and i won’t, because i have no idea how the blues work, just that everything that isn’t controlled by the palette is rendered as blue.

[kathy-rah]

As someone who is slowly learning how to do digital art alone, I may have some advices to give to those who want to start and don't have time/resources to spend a lot of time trying and testing out drawing processes.

These are some things that I've found useful but Boi, it got me a lot of time to get to it. Of course, this is just what I think can be a good advice for who is a newbie like me, you can try it as a way to start your coloring process but it's not something professional t.t so take it with a bit of salt

First advice I wanna give is to do like I did during this drawing process: while I keep everything on different layers (skin tone / armor / hair /detail / background), don't just start with one layer and then start another one after rendering the first one.

Multiple times I've noticed how the different tones didn't match to each other, or the colors were simply horrible to see next to each other. I've spent a lot of time fixing this type of issues in my old drawing, always deleting the layers (fully rendered) or trying to change the tone with horrible results.

Instead, if you too happen to have this problem, I'd advice you to first coloring everything with the base color. As you see in the video, as first thing I simply filled the lineart with base colors. It's not clear but I assure you I've changed his skin tone multiple times because it didn't match the armor. Same with the mask and the red details.

This is something you can easily do at the beginning to see if the colors match and are nice to see all together in the bigger picture.

It's really something easy and I'm 100% sure they teach you this literally at the beginning of art school but Boi I'm stupid. I only learn when I do things myself t.t

Change colors as much as you want until you've reached your desired tones. Be careful of saturation levels. To make everything more balanced, play with the hue level for every base color you've used. You don't like how the red is in contrast with the blue? Change the red layer' hue/saturation values a bit and you'll find the perfect type of red you need.

After you are happy with the overall results, start with the rendering.

This is something I recommend to do if you still aren't used to the use of tones/saturation.

If you need some examples of the pieces where I struggled, here you go: this one is probably my fav one even now that I draw from pc.

Before:

As you can see there isn't balance in the colors. Fulgrim's skin is too much out of everything and in general there is too much differences between the colors. It just doesn't look harmonious. Then:

I assure you I haven't re-drawn anything here, just fixed the saturation, tones and hue levels (and added a bit more of shadows), yet now everything matches. (i also have changed the color of the lineart in a few places, look at the hair for example).

This might looks obvious to others, but I've spent a lot of time on this piece with the only focus on making those colors look nicely together and with time I've learned from my mistakes.

Another example: the commission I did a few weeks ago. I had to draw an Imperial fist, so you'd expect to see a yellow armor. Considering that I painted the background with red colors, bright yellow would have been quite a shock to see: that's why the base color is not yellow but orange. Same thing the clothes aren't white anymore but a light pink.

On a white background it looks weird for an IF armor, yet this is the result at the end:

Yellow is only for the parts hit by the light, where the shadow are more on the red tones. (don't mind the light blue for now)

Of course, you have to take in consideration many things before changing the hues of the original colors, but I hope this could help c:

[pearlsephoni]

TsukkiYama Week, Day 5: Devotion

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: T

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: TsukkiYama (Tsukishima/Yamaguchi)

Characters: Kei Tsukishima, Tadashi Yamaguchi, Original Male Characters (Yamaguchi’s coworkers) 

Word Count: 2,514

Summary: An after-work party with an overzealous boss leaves Yamaguchi needing some extra help to get home.

A/N: cw for alcohol and drunk Yamaguchi. This was inspired by this absolutely adorable fanart by @yankasmiles! Further author’s notes can be read on AO3.

The sound of sweeping, grandiose music broke through Kei’s doze, snapping him back to attention over his laptop as he fumbled for his phone. Yamaguchi had set his personal ringtone in Kei’s phone to the Jurassic Park theme as a joke, but it worked surprisingly well as a ringtone, and it was nice to know ahead of time whether or not Kei needed to dread the incoming phone call. He never did when he heard the iconic soundtrack.

He squinted in the bright light of Yamaguchi’s selfie, somehow managing to slide the “answer” button despite being rendered almost blind.

“Hello?” he groaned as he hit the speakerphone button and set the phone aside. He was getting ready to settle his head into the cushion of his arms on the table, when a voice that was distinctly Not Yamaguchi started speaking.

“Tsukishima-san? This is Sakamoto, I’m a coworker of Yamaguchi-san’s.” Kei shot up straight at the unfamiliar voice and strained to understand him through his slur. He could hear the sound of familiar off-key humming somewhere in the background. “I’m, uh…I’m real sorry to bother you this late, but Yamaguchi-san is…not doing too well.”

Kei felt panic spike through his chest before he could remind himself that Yamaguchi was safe with his trustworthy coworkers. “What’s wrong?” he asked, trying desperately to keep his voice steady.

“He just had a bit too much to drink, and we made the mistake of letting him sit down, and now he can’t stand back up and take a step without nearly falling over. He won’t let us support him because he’s worried he’s too heavy, even though we’ve told him not to worry about that.”

Kei closed his eyes and drew in a slow breath, annoyance starting to burn away his panic. “Your boss really needs to stop pressuring him into drinking more than he can handle. These work drinking nights are the only times he gets this drunk, and I know it’s not because he doesn’t know his own limits.”

“Yeah, we…we know. We’re really sorry, but…if we call a taxi for him, would you be able to meet it when it gets to your place and help Yamaguchi-san get inside? One of us would do it, but you two live in the opposite direction of the rest of us and…I’m not sure we’d be much help anyway.”

Sometimes Kei didn’t understand why Yamaguchi still bothered going to these work dinners when half of them led to him getting so drunk. But then he would interact with one of his work friends, like Sakamoto, and while he still didn’t fully understand, he at least wasn’t as confused. Yamaguchi was lucky to have coworkers like them. “Where are you right now?”

“Ah…we’re by the McDonald’s with a really…creepy…clown statue outside.”

Oh. So they had made it much closer to the apartment than he’d expected. That McDonald’s was Yamaguchi’s go-to place for fries, and he liked to joke that his loyal patronage was his way of appeasing the evil forces that were clearly behind that statue. “Don’t bother with the taxi, I’ll meet you guys there. Use that money to get Yamaguchi some fries, please.”

“Are…are you sure? He really isn’t in good shape to walk very far.”

“It’s not very far, and I know how to get him home, never mind about that. Just get him his fries before he stares too hard at that god-forsaken statue and decides he’d rather run away from it than wait for me.”

Sakamoto laughed before saying, “Will do. Thank you so much, Tsukishima-san!”

“Tsukki?!” Kei heard someone in the background gasp just before the call disconnected. A small grin curved over his face as he slid on his shoes and grabbed his keys. None of his annoyance over the situation was directed at Yamaguchi, or even his coworkers — he knew first hand how difficult it could be to turn down drinks offered by a boss without offending them — and outside of his random bouts of not being able to walk, his boyfriend really was one of the least annoying drunks Kei knew. Maybe it was his bias speaking, but there was a part of Kei that was secretly amused by how open and clingy Yamaguchi could get after some drinks.

There was a nice breeze blowing through the nighttime air as he made his way to that familiar corner. After just ten minutes or so, the hopeless trio became visible from down the street. Kei could see Sakamoto’s blonde spikes on the bench next to a sprawled out figure that he instantly recognized as Yamaguchi’s, and Kurusu’s mop of black waves stood at the curb, looking up and down the street as if he were waiting for a taxi.

Or, as it turned out, a sleep-deprived boyfriend. As Kei got closer, he could hear Kurusu alerting Yamaguchi to his presence, and he had to bite back a wider smile at the sight of Sakamoto barely catching the fries before Yamaguchi could spill them as he sat straight up on the bench. “Tsukki!!” he called, and dammit, Kei couldn’t hold back his smile anymore. He really had gotten weak in recent years…or maybe that was just for Yamaguchi.

Sakamoto shot up to his feet and bowed deeply to Kei. “We’re so sorry for the inconvenience, Tsukishima-san.”

Kei waved off the apology and bow. “Taking care of him isn’t an inconvenience. I appreciate you calling me.”

“Of course!”

As soon as Kei was in front of the bench, he felt warm fingers wrap around his wrist and tug gently. He looked down, and felt some of his weariness melt into fondness at the sight of Yamaguchi’s wide eyes and surprised smile. “Tsukki! You really came!”

“Of course I did, you…adorable disaster of a man.” He knelt in front of Yamaguchi and carefully brushed his hair out of his sweaty face, noting with a wave of relief that he didn’t smell of vomit, and that his eyes were still somewhat alert — he hadn’t gotten sick or blacked out, thank god. “How are you feeling? Did you eat any fries?”

“Mm-hm!” Yamaguchi fed himself a floppy fry before he held a small, much firmer fry to Kei’s lips. “They’re so yummy! But now I’m feeling kinda thirsty.”

Kei let Yamaguchi place the fry into his mouth before he answered, “Let’s get you home, then you can have all the water you want.”

“Home,” Yamaguchi hummed with a sleepy grin. He draped his arms over Kei’s shoulders and buried his face into his shoulder, where he mumbled, “Tsukki…Tsukki, I don’t think I can walk.”

Kei’s hand automatically began sliding up and down Yamaguchi’s spine in slow, comforting strokes. “That’s alright. You don’t need to walk.”

“But then how’re we gonna get home? A taxi?”

“Something like that,” Kei huffed with a small smile. “Here, sit up.” With Sakamoto’s help, he was able to carefully untangle Yamaguchi from around him and sit up mostly straight. Then Kei turned so that his back was facing his boyfriend. “Alright, get on.”

“But Tsukki, I’m heavy.”

“Not to me, you’re not. C’mon.” There was no response for a breath, then there were arms wrapping around his shoulders, with a chin hooking over one.

“Tsukishima-san, are you sure?” Kurusu asked, watching with wide eyes as he adjusted Yamaguchi’s legs around his waist.

“Yes. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to do something like this, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

“Tsukki’s super strong,” Yamaguchi slurred, pride threading through his words alongside the alcohol. “He’s a professional athlete! He could pro’bly”— he hiccuped —“bench press me.”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki!” The old phrase was the most sober he’d sounded so far, possibly because of how often he said it. Either way, it was a small relief to hear him speak a little clearer.

Kei held on tight to Yamaguchi’s thighs and pushed himself to his feet, abs clenching to keep him from stumbling. There was a soft “wooooo” right at his ear, then a little giggle, then the sound of deep breaths. “Is he asleep?” Kei asked Sakamoto.

“Not asleep,” Yamaguchi suddenly mumbled, “just…resting.”

The insides of Kei’s cheeks were feeling raw from how much he’d been biting them to hold back smiles. “Are you two okay to get back?” he asked Kurusu and Sakamoto, both of whom were still watching him with wide eyes.

“Ah! Yes,” Kurusu answered with a jolt. He quickly stepped forward to push the rapidly-cooling fries back into Yamaguchi’s hands. “We can get a taxi together, we live close by.”

“Good. Thank you again for looking after him.” He bounced Yamaguchi just a bit for emphasis and to adjust his weight against his back, and got another soft grumble and a few fallen fries for the trouble. “Have a good night.”

“You, too!” They both gave him another bow as he walked away, but he didn’t have a chance to feel too embarrassed over their formality. He was distracted by the fry that had appeared at his lips, held by a tanned, freckled hand. “Tsukki, ah.”

“Those were meant to help you sober up,” Kei said with a soft laugh, before the fry was pushed into his open mouth.

“I’m…mm, m’not g’na be…sober. Too…too drunk.”

“I know.” Kei let his temple nudge against dark hair. “But maybe we can keep you from getting a terrible hangover, yeah?”

Yamaguchi whined at that, his hand that held another fry falling limp as he burrowed into Kei’s shoulder. “Boooooo, hangovers. They suck.”

“Indeed. So let’s save both of us the trouble.”

“Mmkay.” Yamaguchi nuzzled back into the curve of Kei’s neck, and Kei enjoyed the smell of his honey-scented conditioner and spicy cologne combining with the fries. The scents and the warmth of his boyfriend surrounding him made love bloom in Kei, a feeling he would never admit to out loud, except perhaps to Yamaguchi when they were both close to sleep…or when Yamaguchi was drunk to the point of helplessness.

His human backpack was quiet for the rest of the walk home, his deep breaths the sole audible noise from him. The only way Kei knew he was still awake, if barely, was the fact that the fries were still being held.

Kei’s legs were starting to tremble just a bit by the time he reached their bedroom, not helped by the borderline-acrobats he pulled in order to unlock their front door without letting Yamaguchi slip from his perch. But he still managed to slowly, carefully lower Yamaguchi to the bed, waiting for the arms around his shoulder to slide away and the sound of a body flopping against the covers with a deep sigh. Only then did he finally give into his body’s exhaustion, collapsing on the floor by the bed.

He gave himself five seconds of just…existing on the floor, before he pushed himself onto his knees and looked over Yamaguchi. “Tadashi?”

“Mm.”

“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet. Sit up, c’mon.”

“Hnnnnnnng.”

“Sit up, ‘Dashi.” Kei stumbled to his feet and grabbed Yamaguchi’s limp hands. “Up, let’s go.”

Yamaguchi let out one last whine, but eventually obeyed Kei’s pull, flopping into an upright position. “Tsukki, I’m tired.”

“So am I, but I’m not letting you sleep in your gross izakaya clothes. Just sit here, and don’t lie back down.”

The effect of Yamaguchi’s pout was ruined a little by the slow, sleepy blink of his eyes, and Kei couldn’t resist running his fingers through his hair and feeling him lean into his touch before he walked to the bathroom.

When he came back with a wet towel and a mug with a little mouthwash in it, he was surprised to see that Yamaguchi had obeyed him and stayed sitting up…and less surprised to see that his eyes had drifted shut anyway. Kei didn’t say anything, just let his approaching steps announce his presence. Yamaguchi’s eyes stayed shut as Kei knelt in front of him and set the mug down, only snapping open when Kei draped the wet towel over his fingers and pressed it to Yamaguchi’s sweaty face. “Ack, that’s cold!”

“No, it’s not,” Kei muttered with a grin, “I made sure to use warm water.”

“Still cold.” But Yamaguchi held still, letting Kei wipe his face clean despite his shoulders tending against the apparent-cold of the wet towel. His drunken sleepiness made him more docile than usual: he silently opened his mouth when Kei held the mug to his lips, and as he swished the mouthwash around for the required 60 seconds, he just stared at Kei with a drowsy adoration that still made Kei feel bashful after all this time.

“Better?” Kei asked once Yamaguchi spit the mouthwash back into the mug.

“Better.”

Kei nodded, and moved to grab the towel and return to the bathroom. But before he could stand up, there were arms draping over his shoulder and pulling him forward until Yamaguchi could rest their foreheads together. “Thank you, Tsukki.”

“Of course.”

“Can I have a kiss? Now that my mouth is all clean?”

“Mouthwash isn’t enough, you’re gonna need to brush really well in the morning,” Kei said, as if his cheeks weren’t already warming at the way Yamaguchi nuzzled his nose.

“Pleeeeease?”

He barely managed to huff out a beleaguered sigh before Yamaguchi leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. It was slow, and lingering, and chaste, and Kei would’ve given in to it even if he hadn’t made Yamaguchi rinse his mouth. As it was, he couldn’t help stealing an extra kiss before pulling away, his lips curving to match the sleepy, content grin he saw. “Take this off,” Kei murmured, tugging at Yamaguchi’s collar as he stood.

“Thought you were too tired, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi snickered. Kei’s lips twisted, but Yamaguchi was already unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off before he could retort anything. He ended up settling for tossing a clean t-shirt at his face, followed by a clean pair of boxers. “Don’t get under the covers until you have those on,” he ordered with a pointed finger for emphasis. He waited for Yamaguchi to shoot him a playful salute, then gathered the mug and towel, leaving the bedroom to finally get himself ready for bed.

When he came back, it looked like Yamaguchi was already asleep. Kei moved carefully as he set a glass of water, a sports drink, and two painkillers on Yamaguchi’s bedside table, then slid under the covers, trying not to jostle the bed too much. But then, after he turned off the lamp and got properly settled in, he felt arms wrap around his waist and a head gently nudge its way under his chin.

“Go to sleep, Tadashi,” he sighed, letting his arms wrap around Yamaguchi and pull him closer.

“Sleep better like this,” Yamaguchi mumbled. He brushed a sly kiss over Kei’s collarbone, and if that hadn’t already made his breath stutter, then the sound of Yamaguchi’s sleepy “Love you lots, Tsukki” definitely would’ve.

“Love you, too,” he murmured, smiling widely into the dark.

[roanniom]

okay but 10/10 would pull hot lawyer in by his tie and make tf out with him

Get You Off

(Original photo source @the-adam-driver-files but made b&w by me)

Lawyer!Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 1,252

Warnings: NSFW, simple PIV smutty smut, I guess semi-public (there are people in the next room)

The real question is, are you doing this before or after the trial? You giving into temptation when you spend time in his office, brushing hands over legal documents as he goes over the details of the defense? He’s telling you some important info about the one thing you have to make sure to say on the stand, but you’re too busy appraising the way his body looks in that gorgeous, tailored, fitted suit to pay attention?

Kylo urges you to stay focused, you’re not going to win otherwise. But right now you want to win something else. His eyes widen as you grab him by his luxurious silk tie and wrench him forward, bringing his lips crashing to yours. Though you’re the one who takes the initiative he catches up quick, hands rushing to your waist, gripping your hips, squeezing your ass. You’re so eager, propelled forward by the tension that has been mounting over days of listening to his authoritative voice, watching those massive hands sliding across forms and papers, imagining them sliding through something else. He presses in against you, caging you in until you’re backing up, pulling him right along by the tie. 

Until your back’s against the wall and suddenly you’re being lifted. Pressed against the brick of his small office. Small since he’s still new to the firm of course, though with his many talents you’re sure he won’t stay here for long. What’s certainly not small is the massive bulge that presses up against you as he grinds his hips against yours, your legs squeezing around his waist to keep you aloft. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you say breathlessly with a smile and not a single ounce of sincerity. Your statement obligatory but only teasing. Kylo’s lips bruise their way down your jaw, your throat, until his teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder, causing you to buck into him and cry out. You should care that the paralegals outside his office can probably hear you but you just don’t. You know that if roles were reversed they would be equally happy to wind their legs around this god in a good suit.

“You shouldn’t have committed that crime, either. Life is full of things you shouldn’t do,” he says in a low, measured voice. His eyes are hooded and he watches you as he tongues the spot he had bitten so deeply at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, just as a hand slides down to cup your mound through your stylish cigarette pants. His index finger presses tight circles through the fabric, somehow zeroed in right over your clit, if a little off center, making you gyrate your hips in desperate need for more, harder, him. 

“But you don’t strike me as a woman who says no to her desires just because they are improper.”

“And you don’t seem like a man who gives a fuck if a woman’s desires are improper.”

Suddenly you’re whirled around and seated on the edge of his desk, paperwork flying everywhere. You should probably care about that. Those papers were the key to your acquittal. To your freedom from scrutiny. To your ability to walk away from this world of hearings and trials and litigation. But as he pushes against you to make your back press into the hard wood of his desk, his body finding its place between your thighs, clothed cock nudging insistently at your core, walking away is the last thing on your mind.

“You, my dear, are more than improper,” Kylo says, his voice low. His hands leave your waist – rendered unnecessary by the intense way his pelvis keeps you pinned to the table – traveling up your body to rip open your blouse. Buttons ricochet and it’s absurd, its cliché, its overly dramatic, but the way his hands descend on your bra-clad breasts are none of those things. More like rough, delicious, demanding. He kneads the heaving flesh and licks a long stripe up the valley between them, starting from your sternum and ending with a lascivious suck right beneath your pulse point. You moan at full volume now, hips undulating against his, thighs pulling him in for more pressure. Kylo chuckles against your throat, holding you down against the table by the weight of his grasp on your breasts. “The word ‘obscene’ comes to mind.”

“That’s slander,” you reply, though it comes out in a huff. Suddenly Kylo reduces contact, pulling away his upper body. You sit up on your elbows in panic, only find him watching you with a bemused smirk, hips still slotted between your thighs, hands working deftly at his belt.

“What are you going to do, sue me?”

When Kylo frees his cock – and absolute monster, red at the tip and leaking with precum – his hands move to your hips, yanking down your pants as if they personally offended them. You’d teased him in short dresses and skirts every other day since he’d begun counseling you. How fucking dare you make it harder for him today, of all days.

Once divested of your pants you pull Kylo to by the tie again, this time slower.

“I’ll sic my lawyer on you,” you whisper against the shell of his ear when he’s finally bent over you fully, distracted by the task of lining himself up with your entrance. “He’s a real wolf. Goes for the jugular.”

Kylo practically growls in response before sheathing himself fully in your soaking cunt. You clench around him immediately, barely getting to flutter your walls before he’s pulling back and ramming right back in. The desk squeaks with the force of his strokes and the way your body slides against it. Oh yes. The paralegals are jealous.

“Sounds like he’ll get you off,” Kylo spits through gritted teeth, though humor dances behind his black-blown eyes. Your own eyes roll back in your head when his hand roughly takes hold of one of your breast, manhandling it and pinching at the nipple.

“Oh he’ll get me off – ah!” You almost lose your ability to speak for a second, which would a shame because it would mean you’d have to stop this verbal dance. Through heavy pants you speak up again. “He’s really…really…good.”

“Oh yeah? He’s good?” Kylo eggs you on. Sweat collects on his brow and his perfectly coiffed hair bounces looser, more tousled, but otherwise he still seems remarkably put together, in spite of the look of agonized pleasure rippling across his face. His cock protrudes from his open pants but other than that his clothes are surprisingly unrumpled. You, on the other hand, must look thoroughly debauched with your bare legs around his waist, panties pulled to the side, shirt ripped open and his hands pulling your breasts wantonly from their bra cups.  

“Yeah, so good – fuck!”

“Is he big?” Kylo prompts, snapping his hips so hard suddenly you swear you feel him in your throat. When you don’t answer his hand snakes up to your face to deliver a light, orienting pat to your cheek. Your eyes open, slightly unfocused. “His cock. Is it big?”

“W-what – oh god – what does that have to do with being a lawyer?” you challenge, which gets a breathless laugh out of him.

“Everything, baby.”

And Kylo is big, and he does get you off – two times in his office, once in the court room the next day at your trial, and then twice again back at his office.

After all, he’s big good. 

~*~

Smaller tag list since I don’t usually write Kylo and idk who is down (let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged in the future!) : @paper-n-ashes @foxilayde @maryforyou @maybe-your-left @finn-ray-nal-beads @mariesackler @sacklerscumrag @hopeamarsu @aliveandlonely @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @safarigirlsp @millenialcatlady @can-i-pls-get-a-waffle @mrs-zimmerman @clydesfavoritegirl @direnightshade @historyandfandoms50

***Retagged because some apparently didn’t work - sorry if you got double notified!!!

[happyandticklish]

The Problems with Legilimency

Notes: For the anon request. This is so fucking late because writer’s block is a bitch, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! ^^ I sort of took my own spin on the request, but I think it’s fairly similiar to the original. 

Summary: Two times in which Queenie’s Legilimency became a problem, and once when it kind of helped. 

1.        

“Newt!”

The sound of his name strung along by that familiar voice sent a peculiar thrill through Newt’s person. He never grew tired of hearing it. He spun carefully around, an Occamy curled in his grasp; its tiny head poked curiously out from under his arm. “Yes?”

Tina stood puzzled back in his lab, hands placed upon her hips as she examined one of the shelves. “It’s not here. That herb you were looking for. I swear I saw it when we first came in here…”

That was odd. Newt was usually very meticulous about his placement system. He deposited the Occamy gently back into their nest, though the task provided some difficulty as the creature attempted to weave through his arms to reach him once more. Eventually though, hands free, he made his way over to where Tina stood.

In the space where a small bottle of rare herbs should have been, there was nothing but empty space. “You didn’t move it somewhere?” Newt asked, his tone inquisitive rather than angry. He began rearranging bottles around it, wondering if it had simply gotten misplaced.

Tina shook her head. “I turned my back and it was gone. It’s not…” she hesitated. “…supposed to do that, is it? I mean, it doesn’t have some kind of magical property to it, does it?”

Newt laughed, the quiet chuckle of an inside joke. “No, no need to worry about that. It does contain magical properties, though they are rendered quite harmless in its current form. Aha!” He grinned, his voice filled with soft triumph. “I believe we have found our culprit.”

Pickett stood frozen where Newt had revealed him, a bottle clutched tightly in his arms. His eyes widened, and quickly he tried to scramble away from them. Unfortunately, his efforts to get away from Newt only brought him into Tina’s awaiting hands, who held him up carefully as she lifted him into the air.

“Nice work, Tina,” Newt said, a hint of pride entering his tone. Seeing two of his favorite creatures in the world interact always brought him a strange joy. “Be careful when extracting the bottle from him; he can be difficult when he wants to be.”

“Oh, um, yes, of course.” Tina seemed more doubtful of her abilities, holding the creature out carefully as though one of two of them was going to accidentally hurt each other. She attempted to gently wrestle the bottle out of his hands, but, seeing her intentions, Pickett was quick to intervene. He wrapped his arms tightly around it, and when she attempted to nudge him off with her finger, he only transferred his hold to her as devious inspiration struck him.

Tina yelped, her heart catching a little in her throat. Though she admired Newt for his love for these creatures, she still found herself a bit wary when it came to actually interacting with them. Newt himself seemed unworried by this development, a smile tugging reluctantly at his lips, like a parent attempting to be disappointed with their child but ultimately unable to help their amusement.

“P-Pickett,” she started, her voice wavering a little at the uncertainty of talking to the tiny being. “I’m going to need you to let go now, if that’s alright; we need those ingredients for medicine—your medicine, I might add.”

Pickett was unbothered, clambering onto her finger fully now and beginning to scramble up her arm rapidly. Tina jerked back in surprise, the sensation of his little arms and feet crawling on her skin igniting a long forgotten sensation.

“Newt!” she called anxiously, tossing him a quick glance.

“Don’t worry about him,” he assured her. “He’s completely harmless—it’s only him who likes to think he’s tougher than he is.”

“B-But he’s—ah!” Tina felt a fluttery laugh escape her as Pickett reached her shoulder, poking around and exploring the area curiously, brushing up against her neck. “E-Ehe, w-wait!”

“What’s all the noise down here?”

The two startled at the sudden appearance of Queenie, her curls framing her face in its innocent curiosity as she stepped off the stairs. Evidently, neither of them had noticed her descent in the confusion of the misplaced bottle.

“Tina was just helping me create a new batch of medicine for the Bowtruckles,” Newt explained quickly, an odd nervousness entering his voice at the two of them being caught alone. He felt the unnecessary need to clarify their presence there. “When a bottle, it—well it went missing, but it was fine as Pickett here—”

“Of course it tickles,” Queenie interrupted, her voice directed affectionately in the direction of Tina. Newt started, those words being one of the last things he expected to leave her mouth. “There’s no need to get all worked up about it.”

“What?” 

Tina stiffened and flushed as Newt’s gaze swiveled to her, focusing on Pickett who continued his exploration of her neck and shoulders with an unapologetic joy. He narrowed his eyes at the pesky creature, who startled at the sudden attention he was receiving and hid quickly under Tina’s collar.

Newt lurched forward, ready to remove him, but his hands paused inches away from Tina, where they hovered uncertainly over her neck. “Can I—that is, do you mind if I—”

“Yes!” Tina agreed, her voice a little too eager in her embarrassment. Quickly but carefully, Newt managed to remove the critter, allowing him to cling moodily to his finger as he pulled away.

Queenie smiled fondly at them, shaking her head a little at their antics. “Honestly,” she said as Newt tucked the errant Bowtruckle into his pocket. “There’s no need to get so worked up about it; it’s just tickling.”

“How did you—”

“Legilimens,” Queenie replied, arching a brow with a sly grin. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Oh. Right.” Newt fussed needlessly over Pickett, adjusting and re-adjusting him as he continued to avoid their gazes. Pickett himself bucked against the attention, batting in annoyance at his fingers. “Um, if you don’t mind, we were in the middle of something if we could return to that.”

“Oh.” Queenie shook her head at herself. “Of course.” There was something in her eyes that said she knew Newt’s true reason for wanting her gone, but for reasons unknown to Newt but that he was nonetheless grateful for, she declined revealing. “I’ll leave you two alone them.”

She whirled gracefully up the stairs, her silk robe fluttering lightly behind her along with her steps. It was only once she was gone that Newt allowed himself to exhale, turning to face Tina. “Are you alright?”

But Tina had already turned away from him, and was wholly engaged in the process of chopping up the retrieved ingredients as Newt had shown her earlier. The tips of her ears were tinged a dark pink, and her hair fell forward in her face, easily hiding her expression from the other.

Newt would have pursued the issue further, had he not been just as grateful to drop the subject at hand. For some reason, this new piece of knowledge about Tina stuck in his brain, a strange concoction of nerves and excitement lighting up his chest. The sudden feelings were too difficult to parse then and there, however, and Newt turned to the counter as well, making sure to stand a couple feet away as he directed her on the next steps.

“Now you want to grind it, into a fine powder.”

2.        

“Oh.”

The word was a startled little gasp, and it drew both Tina and Newt out of the world they had previously been lost in. Newt jerked away from her instantly, releasing her skin as though it were suddenly made of hot iron. Tina’s face was flushed, the remnants of laughter dancing in her smile. Less than a minute before, Newt’s fingers had been engaged in the process of reducing her into a state of flushed laughter. Now, however, he kept his hands firmly shoved in his pockets, far removed from where they could have any kind of effect on anyone.  

After Queenie had accidentally revealed Tina’s secret a couple weeks ago, Newt had found himself unable to stop finding ways to accidentally tickle her in the hopes to see that unexpected smile light up her face once more. After a while, it became less accidental, though if Tina noticed, she chose not to say anything. There was hardly any excuse for that evening, however. It was only that Tina had chosen to stretch her arms above her head moments before and Newt could hardly be blamed for what happened afterwards.

Both appeared heavily embarrassed to have been caught in such a state, and it wasn’t just Newt this time who was having trouble making eye contact.

Queenie smiled, a gentle, reassuring gesture. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to inform you both that dinner was ready. Although it seems you two are rather… preoccupied, at the moment.”

Newt cleared his throat, coughed awkwardly, and cleared his throat once more, clearly having difficulty coming up with words. “Sorry, we were just—that is to say—I was—”

“Tickling my sister,” Queenie answered for him, appearing unbothered by both the word and the subject. “It’s alright, you don’t have to apologize. I didn’t mean to intrude; it’s just that you were being quite loud.”

Tina’s brow furrowed as she readjusted herself on the bed; she was putting forth a failing attempt to make herself appear anymore dignified than the state in which she’d been interrupted. “How could you possibly have? We were—that is, we were trying to be quiet.”

“Thoughts speak louder than words,” Queenie quoted, though there was a truthful undertone to it that spoke of the embarrassing reality of having a Legilimens as a sister.

“Ah,” Tina said, visibly flustered. “Well.”

“Right,” Newt agreed eagerly, though it was unclear what either of them was agreeing on.

Queenie offered them a knowing look, before finally turning around to head back downstairs. “Alright then, I’ll leave you two alone. But be sure to come down soon; you wouldn’t want dinner to get cold.”

She paused at the doorknob, however, and turned suddenly back around. “Oh, and Newt?”

“Yes?”

“Her worst spot is her knees. Just in case you were wondering. Anyways.” With that, Queenie flounced from the room, her innocent air a betrayal of the words she’d just spoken.

The two of them sat frozen on the bed, both of them waiting for the other to make the first move. There wasn’t exactly protocol for this kind of thing.

After a while Tina groaned, dropping her head into her heads. “Sometimes I truly abhor my sister.”

“She can be quite… blunt,” Newt agreed. He found his gaze drawn now to her legs, swung carelessly over the bed. Queenie’s words played over and over in his mind, and before he knew what he was doing he had reached out and experimentally squeezed her knee.

Tina yelped, her hands flying from her face to shove at his arms quickly. “Don’t,” she warned, but there was a lightness to the warning that implied maybe she didn’t mean it as much as she said. A reluctant smile tugged at her lips, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Newt, please, this isn’t—”

“Fair?” he finished softly, squeezing again to hear that adorable squeal. Her hands flailed uselessly for a moment before fisting in the sheets, keeping herself from fully shoving him off.

“Newt,” she gasped, the words filled with anticipation and a giddy nervousness that prompted Newt to quickly enact a repeat of earlier, his hands flying as he wrecked her once more. Her laughter rung in his ears, wild and carefree, and he found he would do anything to hear that sound, even for a moment longer.

Eventually he relented, as dinner really was getting cold. However, he found an odd disappointment setting in when she merely stood up afterwards and headed over to the door, albeit more out of breath than before. Before he had time to dissect that feeling, the two were called once more for dinner in slightly harsher tones, and they quickly rushed down the stairs in an effort not to induce the other’s wrath at having to wait for them.

3.      

“Nehehehewt!” Tina gasped, batting uselessly at his hands as they scribbled mercilessly over her stomach. “Plehehehease!”

The two were curled up on the couch, having retreated there for the night while Queenie and Jacob were out on an evening for two. In the beginning the two had simply watched movies, Tina propped up against the other so that her head rested on his shoulder. Movies had been Newt’s idea, a Muggle concept that he had found fascinating. Moving pictures on a screen without the use of magic…. Tina had scoffed at the idea, but even she had to admit that it was pretty amazing seeing it in person. The TV had been a purchase made by Queenie, who had decided to invest after seeing how drawn in the two had been after returning from the theaters.

After a while, however, Newt had once again found his interests caught by a different form of entertainment, that of Tina’s startled shriek when he accidentally squeezed her side whilst adjusting himself. Moments later, Tina had her back pressed against his chest as she attempted to curl in on herself and evade the ticklish hug Newt was administering.

It was truly a wonder how they kept arriving here.

“Please what?” Newt asked, his lips quirking up into that rare teasing smile that Tina both hated and loved dearly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Plehehehease stahahahap!” she giggled, her legs drawing up to her chest as she attempted to protect herself. “Ihihihi—ahahah, ihihit tihihickles! Nehehewt!”

“Alright, alright.” Newt relented, merely resting his hands on her stomach now and rubbing calming circles. “You know, you’re quite cute laughing like that; you should do it more often.”

“I already do it enough, thanks to you,” she replied with a wry grin, her words coming out in an exhausted huff as she fought to regain her breath back. “I don’t understand why you insist on doing it so often.”

“I believe he wants you to return the favor.”

The two startled, Tina letting out a startled yelp as a dark crimson flooded Newt’s cheeks, and they both turned to see Queenie standing at the doorway. Evidently, the two had just returned.

“Q-Queenie,” Newt stammered, with the intent of replying some kind of denial, but Jacob popped his head around her shoulder before he could, viewing the scene curiously.

“What favor? Oh hey, is that Felix the Cat?” Jacob quickly made his way over to them, taking a seat on the couch besides them.

“He what?” Tina repeated, ignoring Jacob and focusing her attention back on Queenie.

Queenie set her purse down, delicately taking a seat besides them. The couch was growing crowded by this point, but none of them appeared to care in the moment. “He wants you to tickle him back.” She paused after a moment, her eyes widening a little. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

Newt’s face was permanently burned a color as red as his hair. His mouth was open on a theoretical protest, though it was clear it was too late for that. Eventually, he merely averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s, ah, it’s okay. You didn’t mean to, I know.”

Tina glanced between the two, trying to gather what had just happened. Jacob was the first to speak, raising one eyebrow. “You like being tickled, Newt?”

“I—” Newt started, his voice stuttering and stopping in his throat. He coughed, gripping the back of his neck tightly. Three pairs of eyes were suddenly focused on him, and while Newt didn’t prefer eye contact at the best of times, the awkwardness of the situation certainly did not help anything. Against his better judgement, his flicked his gaze up to meet Tina’s, anxiety getting the better of him. Her eyes were wide with surprise, which he had anticipated. What he had not expected was the tiny smile slowly tugging at her lips, a gentleness to the expression that made Newt’s heart clench in his chest. Ultimately, it was what prompted him to finally find the words to speak again.

“I—uh, yes. That is, I do. Like. To be tickled.” He cleared his throat again, staring at his lap. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, rhythmically pulling at a loose string to distract himself from the panic roiling in his brain. In the background, the TV hummed, though it was clear none of them were paying attention to it anymore.

After what felt like an eternity to him, but was in actuality only around thirty seconds, Jacob piped up, “Well why didn’t you just say so?”

Newt’s head snapped up, his heart slamming against his chest. “What?”

“Yeah,” Queenie agreed, a grin rushing quickly across her features. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just another part of you.”

He felt someone grab his hand and he looked over to see Tina, her face filled with such overwhelming tenderness that he couldn’t help but smile slightly in return. “I love you, Newt. Which means I love making you happy. And if this is what makes you happy, than I’m happy to do so.”

Newt glanced around at the three of them, people who he had grown to love and care about more than he had allowed himself to with others in quite a long time. A tiny bubble of happiness rose in his chest, trapping his throat and making words impossible.

“Do you…” Tina started, before trying again, this time with more confidence. “Do you want us to tickle you? Now, that is.”

Newt flushed, the color spreading to the tips of his ears. He stammered, sentences tripping over themselves in his mouth, before he finally managed a quiet, “Yes. Only if you want to, of course.”

Jacob poked him lightly in the ribs and he jumped, a startled yelp escaping him. “Of course, buddy. After all, what kind of friends would we be if we didn’t help you smile every once in a while?”

Newt opened his mouth to respond, but his words were quickly lost to a flood of giggles as all three of them pounced at once, reducing him into a mess of squirming limbs.

Maybe Legilimency wasn’t so bad, after all. 

[brooklyn-1918]

On A Farm

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: On a farm in Western Pennsylvania, You and Steve grew up. When his mother passed, he took off for Brooklyn. When he returns, you both have some patching up to do. 

Warnings: Some mild swearing (like one word, I think), uuuuh, Steve is a bit of a dumb ass? There’s not much to this story. 

A/N: I know I said I was going to work on the next part of Desert Rose, but I got sidetracked. What a surprise. So this is for @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ ‘s 1000 follower challenge. The farm that I used for inspiration is here. Prompts are in bold. 

At five years old, Steve’s mother brought him to Pennsylvania, where she settled them on a run down old farm. The paint peeled, the windows rattled. It was scorchingly hot in the summer, and bitterly cold in the winter.

He desperately missed the streets of Brooklyn where he was born, however little he might remember it. He missed the cobble streets as he walked down the long dirt drive, he missed the tattered walls as he helped his mother scrape paint. 

The only thing that helped him keep his head straight was you. Little you, who would run back and forth with him in the fields… That is, until he had to stop and sit to catch his breath. You, who would climb the tall pines that grew around the old barn with him. You, who would hide in the woods and jump out to scare him. 

The years progressed, you both grew. When you were both 17, you planted a kiss to his cheek, pushing yourself up on your toes to reach him, as you had both grown exponentially from when you first met. 

Then, that winter, his mother was struck with tuberculosis. 

You tried to console him, to lure him away from his mother’s side, to eat something and get some rest. But to your dismay, nothing you said or did made him move. 

After she was gone, he packed his bag with a weak apology and left back for Brooklyn. 

You stood in the middle of the dirt road, a tear rolling down your cheek as he climbed into the back of a truck, bag slung over his shoulder. He looked up just enough to see you, but dropped his head quickly. 

The truck started and you stared after him as he got smaller and smaller. And all you could do was stand there, broken hearted, as he left. 

__________

It had been close to a decade by the time you saw him again. The depression was over, and a war had been fought and won. 

The sun broke through the branches of the pine trees leading up the drive to the Rogers farm, the dirt and gravel crunching under your feet as you progressed forward. Toolbox swinging from your hand, you stopped under the windowsill to the large bay window in the living room. 

Dropping the metal container to the grass, you gripped the wooden shutter with both hands and gave it a twist, positioning it back into its original spot. 

You had noticed the broken shutter from your own window. It had been blown sideways in the windstorm the week prior. Nodding to yourself, you grabbed your tools and moved to the front door. 

For nine and a half years, you had taken care of this farm. Fixing it in just the way that Sarah Rogers would have, once upon a time. There was no evidence that Steve had ever decided to sell it, and certainly no one had shown up to claim it. 

So you took it upon yourself to keep the place in order. 

Climbing the stairs, you stopped in the upstairs hall, carpet sending up puffs of dust with each step you took. Grabbing the broom that you left there, you jabbed once at the ceiling, and knocked open the panel that concealed the ladder to the attic. 

“Alright, let’s see the damage,” You murmur to yourself, before clamping the handle of your toolbox between your teeth, and climbing the rickety old ladder. It shook violently with your weight, but held as you hoisted yourself into the musty space. 

“Ah, there you are!” You exclaim, moving over to the drip of water coming from the hole in the ceiling, about the size of a baseball. 

It took an hour to fix, sweat dripping down the nape of your neck, staining your shirt collar. When you were done, you slid down the ladder, shut the trap door, and descended the stairs, swinging left as you stepped off the last stair into the kitchen. 

The tap squeaked as you turned on the water, as did the floorboards behind you, but you didn’t notice. You set down your box on the counter, the metal clatter covering the clicks behind you. 

“Hands up, and turn around,” A voice commanded behind you, deep and gruff. Startled, you let out a yelp, and threw your hands up. A shudder ran through your spine, and you turned slowly on your heel to face down the barrel of a rifle, pointed directly at your nose. 

Your sight shifted to the man holding the gun. His face set into a scowl, blond hair dirty and falling into his eyes. His jaw was set with stubble, muscle twitching as he ground his teeth together. 

He wore a military uniform. Not a dress uniform, but nothing casual. A duffel bag was laying on the floor by the side door, a rank insignia stitched onto the side. 

“Who are you, and why the hell are you in my house?” He growled, refusing to drop the rifle. You blinked once, twice, then three times. “Your house? Who are you?” You fire back. Your question seemed silly as you continued to examine him. It seemed silly as you looked into the eyes of the boy that you spent your childhood with. 

“I--”

“Steve?” You interrupted. The man faltered, lifting his head and letting the muzzle of the gun drop down. His jaw hung open, and he watched you for a moment. 

“Y/N? Steve dropped the gun fully, and with a few quick hand motions, rendered it ineffective. Before he had a chance to set it on the worn table, you rushed him, pushing yourself up onto your toes to wrap your arms tightly around his neck. 

You laughed brightly as he leaned back, lifting you off the floor. His chest vibrated warmly as he laughed as well, then settled you back on the floor. “What are you doing here?” He asked, stepping away from you. Placing his hands, warm and calloused, over your shoulders, he pushed himself back so he could examine you for a fleeting moment. 

“I was going to ask you the same thing!” You exclaim, running your fingers over the top of your head in astonishment. He flicked his gaze to the duffle, but turned back swiftly to you. 

“Well, I-- It’s hard to explain,” He started, “But really, what are you doing in my house?” 

You froze, momentarily bashful as you glanced at the dirty floor. You were gonna clean that today, too. Looking back up to him, you gave a wobbly smile and a shrug. 

“You’ve been gone for a while. And someone needed to take care of this place,” You remark. Now it was Steve’s turn to flush. That Irish blush that worked its way from the tips of his ears, tinting down his neck, and disappearing below the collar of his shirt. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, huh?” He noted, nodding his head and slipping a hand to rest at the back of his neck. You bobbed your head in agreement, glancing down again. 

Silence settles between the two of you. A strained tension filled the room, settling deep in your bones. You hated the feeling. It made you want to run. You could be out of the kitchen, and through the creaky screen door in seconds. Out of the house, and away from him. 

Because god damn it he broke your heart when he left all those years ago. And you never wanted to feel that pain again. 

You didn’t want to run. But that’s exactly what you did. 

“Well, I should leave you to get settled,” You said softly, turning on your heel to grab your tools. 

You could hear shifting behind you, and as you faced him once more, he was standing straight, stiff. “Right. It’s good to see you again, Y/N. Really good.” He smiled, a twinge of sadness criss crossing his features. You force a smile, and walk past him, pausing briefly to gently squeeze his shoulder. 

You continued to the door, but stopped next to the green duffle. Nudging it with the toe of your boot, you could see the insignia better. Captain. 

“If you enlisted, you just proved yourself to be the reckless idiot that I always said you were,” You chuckle, slipping into the old banter that you both had, so long ago. It seemed strangely familiar, a long dormant part of you that suddenly was awake. 

Steve laughed behind you, softly. 

“Well, I proved it,” He confirmed. You looked up to him, and pursed your lips in a frown. He gave you a tired grin, and you shook your head in exasperation. 

Another moment of silence, and you turned and left.

__________

You aren't sure what woke you. But you were decidedly awake at a time when you really didn’t want to be. You dropped your head back to your pillow with a groan when it happened again. This is what you were sure had woken you up. 

A shout, muffled by walls and a few hundred feet, drifted through the window you had left popped open. You sat bolt upright, the blankets falling down around your hips, and turned your body so you could see Steve’s house. A light blinked on across the way, cutting through the darkness, and you swung your legs out of your warm spot. 

Grabbing your slippers, and flashlight, you bounded out your front door, and across the dirt road. 

“Steve!” You called as you made it to the screen door you had left out of only a few hours ago. You could see the yellow glow of the kitchen light through the glass panels of the side door, so you quickly transgressed the screened in porch to open it. 

“Steve,” You tried again, softly this time. The only acknowledgement that he gave was the slight inclination of his head, which dipped down towards the table as he sat there. 

Shirtless.

In the freezing kitchen. 

Because of course that made sense. You inched forward, hand hovering over his back. You sucked in a breath, and placed your fingers down, rubbing in soft circles. 

A sheen of sweat coated him, the roots of his hair darkened with it. He shook, just a small tremor, but it was there. 

Pulling a chair over, you noticed the pair of dog tags laying in the middle of the table, framed by the flaking green paint. His own, and another set of an unfamiliar man. 

“James B Barnes,” You mouth to yourself. Dropping into the creaking chair, you swing around so your knees point to him, and lean toward him. “Steve, what’s going on?” You wait a moment without him speaking. “Steve, c’mon, you’re scaring me. Please talk to me?” 

He still doesn't speak, so you take your fingers, and place them under his chin, his stubble prickleing at them. You maneuvered Steve’s jaw so he looked at you. 

His eyes were watery and so insanely blue. It almost made you gasp, if you weren't so concerned. 

Dread gripped your belly, an iron grasp that refused to let go. 

So neither did you. You stroked your thumb over the prickles, and leaned forward to wrap your arm around his broad shoulders. Closing your eyes, forehead leaning against the bare bulk of his shoulder, you nearly jumped when you felt his warm hand wrap around yours. Another shudder ran through him, jostling you, prompting you to pick your head back up. 

“Steve, I need you to tell me what's wrong.”

He remained silent. With a sigh, you stand, then pause momentarily, watching as his head falls back down. Once again scooping the flashlight up, you turned to go. 

A gasp ripped its way from your throat as Steve locked his hand around your wrist again. He still hasn't picked up his head, but his arm, stronger than the last time you saw him, was reached out to you. Your gaze drops to his fingers, decorated in scars, then up to his face, where you can see tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

You dropped back into the seat. 

__________

For weeks, the two of you did a sort of dance. He would say nothing of the nine years that he was gone. You tiptoed your way around your heart. 

It just wasn’t the same as how it had been for so long. You had both changed. A sigh, probably the thousandth that week, escaped you. Steve looked over to you, brow raised. With one final shove, he pushed the new board into place, patching the hole in the side of the dilapidated barn. 

“I think I’ve heard you sigh more than I’ve heard you actually speak. What’s goin’ on?” He questions. You turn your head, then push yourself off of the barn wall, clutching the toolbox tightly. 

“Nothing,” You lie. A clap of thunder in the distance sounds, and it seems as though mother nature is calling you out on your lie. Steve stands to his full height, a doubtful look on his face. 

“Really?” He chuckles. Another crash of thunder sounds. Closer. Followed by a flash of lightning. 

“Yes, really. I’m fine,” You reinforce. 

He nods, takes the box of tools from you, and places his hand over your shoulder to guide you gently back to the house, just as the rain begins to fall. 

“It took me a long time to figure out when you lie,” Steve raises his voice to be heard over the near downpour. “And right now, you’re doing a real bad job of trying to fool me.” 

You huff, and cover your head with your arms to keep the cold drops from landing in your eyes. Failing at your makeshift umbrella, you huff and drop your arms as you both splash through the mud puddles. 

“Well, Steve, that was a long time ago,” You say, somewhat harshly. Behind you, you can hear his steps falter slightly, to your slight satisfaction. “Right,” He mutters, just as you both reach the screen porch door. You yank it open, harder than you hoped. It squeals in protest, nearly coming off its hinges. 

Dropping into one of the kitchen chairs, you peel your boots off, then move to the sink to strip your jacket off, sopping wet and clinging to you. You drop it in, and turn to face Steve. 

“What happened?” You ask, shaking your head and throwing your hands out to the side. 

Steve freezes, halfway between placing the tools down, and with a look of shocked confusion on his face. 

“What do you mean? Am I missing something?” He asks, a slight waiver in his voice. Slowly, he places the metal box down, and snags the dish towel. 

“Yes! I mean no! I don’t know! Maybe we're both missing something, because damn it Steve, something happened!” You burst out. Steve freezes, confusion washing over him in waves. 

You growl in frustration, and snatch your jacket back, twisting it to wring the water from it. It splashed down into the iron bowl, a crescendo of taps. 

Whipping it out, you glare at him. 

“You have been gone for almost ten years! And you come back like nothing has happened. Like no time has passed at all!” You march up to him, and jab a finger at his chest. He takes a step back, eyes wide and brow raised. 

“Y/N, I know that--”

“No, I don’t think you do! You come back, and you won't even tell me anything! You not only keep yourself up at night, but you keep me up! I’m sick with worry every time I hear you yell, and you won’t let me help!” You yell, hot tears pooling in your eyes. Steve falls silent, just staring at you, waiting to see what you would say next. 

You don’t continue, however, as you wait for his explanation. Or excuse. Or something. 

Nothing. 

You almost growl, and let the first of a cascade of tears race down your cheeks. 

“You left! You left me standing in the middle of the street! I was there and my heart was breaking. I realize that you had just lost your mother, but you could have stayed!” 

The man in front of you takes a step back. His features steel and he moves forward again. 

“How would I have been able to stay here? Huh? How could I stay here when I failed her?” He asks, pain radiating from his voice. 

“Failed her?” You fire back. “Steve, she got tuberculosis, there was nothing you could have done and you know it!” 

He visibly deflates. More salty tears make their way down your cheeks and you poke his shoulder again. 

He shakes his head, his own eyes welling in sorrow. 

“You had people here that loved you. I loved you, Steve Rogers. And you walked away to a place where you had no one in your corner,” You finish your tirade, voice dropping lower and lower as you take a step back.

Waiting for a minute for his answer, you nod. Turning, you grab your shoes, and march out the door, and into the storm, not caring that your socks were now wet and mud stained. You cry openly. Sobs muffled by the crash of the thunder. 

Another crash, and it might be thunder, but it also might be the screen door, so you glance over your shoulder. You walk faster as you see Steve running through the rain towards you. His fingers brush against your elbow, and you jerk away. He tries again, and this time is able to twist you around. “I love you! I love you, okay? There, you got me to say it. Happy?” Steve shouts over the rain. You glare at him, but soften as you realize the sincerity in his words. You can see it written all across his face. In the way that he cries too. 

“No,” Your voice waivers. “I’m not.” 

“Then give me a chance to prove it to you.”

__________

Months crawl by. Fast, but still slow. 

All that built up trust and friendship, the hidden love, comes crawling back to the both of you. 

You sit under the pine tree that grows along the drive, the autumn sun shining down, fingers twined together. You rest your head on Steve’s shoulder, staring at one of the feral kittens that have come to inhabit his farm over the last few weeks. 

Soft breathing, in and out, jostling your head slightly. 

“Thank you.” You hear Steve, and pick your head up to look at him. You furrow your brow, and lift your hand to brush the hair from his eyes. 

“For what?” 

“For giving me a chance,” He replies. You smile at him, and drop a kiss onto his shoulder. He presses one to the top of your head. 

When you look up again, he grins. Wide and toothy, just like the ones he would show you as you climbed the pine tree you now both sat under some fifteen years ago. 

“What?” You laugh. “I really want to kiss you right now. May I?” 

“I’m going to be mad if you don’t.” With his own laugh, he moves to cup your cheek. With a glint in his eye, he presses a soft kiss to your lips. Pulling back, he presses down another, and another. 

And as the light of dusk slips behind the far hills on the other side of the field of hay, turning the sky purple, you both remain curled together. Lips locked, hearts swollen with love. 

The sky darkens, and as the stars appear, everything is calm.

Permanent Tag List:  @wildefire​

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s Variety Show Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The call before this date is important in establishing the context! Please read it first: here

This post is dedicated to @kudoriee​, who is an adorable and pure-hearted soul with a lot of love to give 💕 Hope you’ll enjoy this!!

Kiss Dates Collection: Gavin // Lucien // Victor

Note: This date is mostly a bullet point summary because a lot of details were just fillers. The important scenes that you’re probably here for have been fully translated, no worries! 😂

The date begins with the film crew outside Kiro’s house, with the host staging the whole “surprise visit” thing we typically see in reality shows

They take a plane to the island where the show would be filmed

Once they reach the island, the show officially begins. Kiro isn't the only guest on the show, so they just introduce themselves and start doing tasks

The host asks Kiro who he most wants to visit the seaside with, but Kiro says that it’s a secret

At one point, the host suggests a volleyball game, and that the winner would get an award - a cold soft drink

Because the program team is extremely stingy with their budget, everyone perks up at the idea of getting something for free

Of course, Kiro groups with MC

Even though MC worries that she’d be a burden, Kiro sweetly says “As compared to winning or losing, being happy is most important!”

Her physical strength is no match for their opponents, but Kiro’s strategy enables them to win

The volleyball game takes up 1/3 of the date and there’s nothing worth mentioning...

...apart from this CG making Kiro look like an otter holding a sea urchin:

As the triumphant victors, they attain the coveted prize - the cold soft drink

MC blushes furiously after Kiro drinks directly from the bottle because sure, indirect kisses are so raunchy.

Afterwards, they have some alone time and walk along the beach while the sun sets:

MC: When the host asked who you most wanted to go to the seaside with, why didn’t you respond?

Kiro turns his head and looks at me with a surprised expression. Then, he laughs.

Kiro: You really don’t know the answer?

His shadow falls into my eyes, like a cloud blocking the sky behind it.

MC: I…

Kiro: I’ll bring you to a place first!

MC: Where-

Kiro pulls me into a run, towards the direction of the sunset, as though we’re chasing the vanishing light on the beach. Very soon, the big rocks on the shore enter my vision.

Kiro: Hurry and look, this is the place.

Kiro pulls me along as we walk closer, pointing at a shadowy area. There are two unremarkable, mutually independent rocks.

But the shadows they cast on the golden sand look like a couple snuggled up with each other.

This scene is fleeting. Very soon, the snuggling shadow disappears along with the final ray of light.

Before a sense of regret creeps in, Kiro suddenly leans in close. The colour of the dusk in his eyes grow dark.

I close my eyes without realizing it, and feel a soft and moist touch. It starts off tentative, then becomes demanding.

Our fingers are entwined tightly, heartbeats like loud cicadas, becoming even more urgent with every beat.

Only the waves retain their original rhythm, and continually wash onto the shore.

And then the scene abruptly cuts to MC being in the hotel alone

The program team suddenly sends her a message telling everyone to gather on the beach for an activity

On the beach, the host says they're going to play a game where everyone writes a challenging activity and put it into the box. If you pick it, you have to do what’s written on the piece of paper

Kiro goes first

Host: “Let me see – let one guest on the scene sit on your back and do twenty push-ups!”

Obviously he picks MC, and we get a description of Kiro’s back muscles:

With a palm on his back, I can feel his tense muscles through the thin material of his shirt, and the sweat that is slowly oozing out.

After that, it’s MC’s turn

She has to answer this question: “Who are you most willing to elope with?”

Kiro: I really want to know the answer to this question!

After some thought, MC responds.

MC: I’d pick my good partner, our host for this show.

Host: Are you sure you’d pick me?!

And then the lights suddenly go out (totally not Kiro’s fault). 

As everyone starts panicking, someone grabs her wrist.

Kiro: Let’s leave this place.

Before I have time to think, I’ve already been pulled away by Kiro in the middle of the chaos.  

We leave the sound of voices far behind us. At this moment, only starlight illuminates our path.

Shadows from the surrounding trees are cast on the surface of the water, and everything becomes quiet.

Just when we think we’re safe, a familiar profile, with a phone pressed to his ear, suddenly appears.

Savin: What happened? Why did the power suddenly go out?

Kiro: Oh no.

Seeing that Savin is about to bump into us, Kiro reacts quickly by pulling me into a pond shrouded by fallen branches.

Splashes of water can be heard, but they are quickly overshadowed by the sound of the faraway waves.

Kiro: Don’t move.

Kiro uses his hand to hold me in front of him, his eyes following Savin’s impending figure. This corner should be sufficiently covered by the surrounding plants.

I hold my breath nervously, and dare not move an inch. Kiro’s lips press against my ear, and he says in an incredibly soft and breathy voice.

Kiro: If we didn’t leave just now, would you have “eloped” with someone else?

In the middle of his phone call, Savin seems to sense that something is wrong, and he tosses a glance in our direction.

My body tenses up immediately, but Kiro continues waiting for my response, so I explain in a soft voice.

MC: That was just a game… the answer I gave was the safest one.

However, this answer doesn’t satisfy Kiro. He tightens his arms around me and holds me closer, creating ripples on the water surface.

Kiro: Even if it’s a game, you’re not allowed to do that.

There is a hidden danger in his soft voice. His half-lidded eyes contain an emotion which I’m unfamiliar with.

MC: Kiro?

My instincts make me feel like escaping, but lips dotted with water droplets are already trailing from my earlobe downwards. They stop at the side of my neck and suck gently.  

Seeming to have an intention to punish, he grips that small patch of skin between his teeth, rubbing it lightly then releasing it. He uses the tip of his tongue to lick the area soothingly.

MC: Mm…

I bite down on my lower lip hard to suppress the sound that’s about to rise from my throat. My arm holds onto the only support preventing me from slipping into the cold water. The beating of my heart is almost too much to bear.

Without realizing it, Savin has already left. All that remains are the moving shadows of trees on the water.

Kiro: Didn’t you want to know who I most wanted to go to the seaside with?

The voice in my ear is slightly breathless, but firm.

Kiro: It’s you. Whether it’s Summer or the beach, you are the only one who cannot be absent.

Kiro’s fingers lift the hair covering the side of my neck, his fingertip gently caressing the mark he has left behind.

Kiro: Now, this place has my marking.

His tone is accompanied by a low, satisfied laugh, and a possessive desire.

The fingers on my back follow the trail of water and snake downwards. Blazing heat follows his movements, gradual yet eager, as they flow over every inch of my skin.

His breath lays siege, filling every crevice in my body, wet and lingering.

Even so, Kiro is not yet satisfied. His arms hold me even tighter, and he uses his fingertips and lips to hold me prisoner in this secret corner, and I am unable to withdraw.

Kiro: Miss Chips, you belong to me. So, I won’t let you escape this time.

His searing breath takes over mine. I am unable to tell if it’s water droplets or sweat that slowly trickles down our tightly-pressed skin.

In our misty vision, dots of starlight pass through the trees, and are scattered across the surface of the water. Suppressed gasps diffuse near our ears, and are amplified by our senses.  

The water sways continuously like a tide, gently wrapping two hearts that are about to merge into one.

And the breaths of the sea breeze render the night even more blurry.

[mittensmorgul]

hey mittens! i know you’ve written off the finale at this point (and haven’t we all), but i was just wondering: do we know whose idea it was to have kripke co-write that ep? because like, in hindsight, that was...a choice, and i’ve been thinking that might explain SOME of the weirdness of that ep (emphasis on SOME because uh. i really do think that some of the cringiest details didn’t come from writers at all). anyway—thoughts?

I don’t think Kripke had anything to do with writing the final ep. It just... felt like a Kripke ep, and I’m starting to think that Dabb did that intentionally. He’s the most meta writer the show might’ve ever had, and in refusing to allow Sam and Dean to live out past their ultimate victory, in choosing to “force an ending” on the characters instead of leaving their world “open” with no concrete ending, he succeeded at the task that Chuck- as Kripke’s avatar in the original story of Supernatural-- had failed to do.

Dabb, in a very real sense, is the one who “ended the story of Supernatural.” He wanted to bring it full circle, to “close the universe” and make it “reboot-proof.” This is something he’s talked about going back as far as SDCC 2019, and many of us had hoped that would mean something “better” than what Chuck wanted for the Winchesters, and for Cas.

I was hoping, and watching the show for the last few years under the assumption that Dabb’s in-story avatar was more a combination of different characters. At first, Billie, who started as a reaper but was elevated to the role of Death (like Dabb himself started as a writer who became more important to the telling of the tale, and eventually became the final showrunner who would eventually reap the show in the end, as it were).

After Jack’s introduction, I wondered if he was going to “grow into the role” of the Authorial Avatar. After all, he served as a mirror for all three other characters, reflecting their stories back at them and allowing them to process their own emotional and psychological issues by helping Jack through them. I wrote long ago, back in s13, how this enabled TFW to sort of graduate from student to master, in the martial arts sense of the word, because one truly only completes learning a thing through the process of teaching others.

And then the Empty became involved as an actual being that manifested through the identities of others, and didn’t really have its own identity other than “I need to sleep, stop disturbing me!” which... felt like it might’ve become relevant when Jack’s power was able to break through into its realm.

Then these three beings began plotting the final overthrow of the Original Author. One laid claim to the lives of Sam and Dean (Billie), one laid claim to Castiel (the Empty). We watched Jack-- the incarnation of “balance” and the vehicle through which the show demonstrated what the human soul’s function is, what the function of angelic grace WITHOUT a human soul’s function is, and what Jack as a whole being with both actually is, as he fully came to his own understanding of what humanity, human love, and the responsibility and function of cosmic power and balance is within himself.

I never doubted (especially after he consumed Michael’s grace and made that power his own) that Jack’s function would be as the ultimate role that Chuck had been trying to force on Dean since s11-- “the firewall between light and darkness.” That Jack would be the crucible to fully unite the power embodied in Amara and Chuck. Chuck’s ending was about as poetic as it gets, and I 100% appreciate Jack’s “end” in the narrative that isn’t really an end for him, because the story also implied that Chuck’s original “problem” stemmed from his wanting to give himself an ego and play with his own creation like so many tinkertoys, to force his will on a universe he created to be ruled by the will of others. 

The ultimate act of Team Free Will left Chuck fully human and an effectively blank book, with no power to force anyone else to play his games. Excellent, right? Poetic even!

But the story wasn’t really over, because in our world, there was one more episode, a coda fic if you will. And all of the characters I’d associated with Dabb-as-avatar were... rendered mute. Billie was dead or dying in the Empty, Jack came into his full power and had already healed the universe, implying that the Empty’s conditions were fulfilled and could finally go back to sleep.

Unfortunately, Chuck’s Book, while appearing blank, still contained all the words. Only Death could read them, and as far as we know, nobody in that universe had ascended to that role. But in our universe, we know that’s Dabb’s function in the narrative. What sort of ending could he write?

Most of us hoped that it would be a “once more, with feeling” sort of “you can finally lay down your arms and make a new life for yourself” ending. Many of us were baffled first off that Jack wouldn’t have brought Cas back from the Empty to Earth. We never really had a satisfactory explanation in canon of what happened there. Was Cas actually dead? What function does he have if he’s in Heaven? Has he been relegated to a role of duty and service as punishment for daring to yearn for human things? It just... it felt like the final stab from a story that had just told us that he truly has been the one disrupting for in Chuck’s story, that he was something that Chuck could never force out of the story or control, who demonstrated free will and learned to love humanity because of Dean, and yet doomed to never have that for himself. Most of us felt that line in 15.18 deserved subversion in the aftermath, and yet we never even get concrete confirmation that he’s even really alive in the same way he was before. It’s... what Chuck always wanted for Cas, to shunt him out of the story and render him powerless and plotless.

What did Chuck want for Sam and Dean? What story did he force them into over and over again? One of them tragically dead and the other miserable and mourning. He wrote billions of iterations of this exact story, over and over throughout billions of universes created for the sole purpose of doing exactly this to every incarnation of Sam and Dean he possibly could. Most of us hoped this might be the ONE universe where that was subverted, like it was the ONE universe where Castiel refused to fall in line with Heaven’s orders and plans. But nope, Dean died tragically (almost immediately after saying in canon that the only way they could honor Cas and Jack’s sacrifices for them was to keep living), and Sam lived a rather bleak and hollow life where the only thing we know he did was to raise a son named for his dead brother.

Chuck would’ve been freaking DELIGHTED!

Which... brings us to Heaven... where we get the vague hint that Cas “helped” Jack “knock down the walls” and make it a paradise that Dean would love and feel rewarded by. We never actually find out what role Cas played in that, or if he was also there in some capacity. But how I’ve always personally understood Heaven as it was in Chuck’s creation, was as a self-sustaining and ever expanding Destiny Generator, like a power generator or a giant battery where each Heaven Cubicle functioned as a cell. The show itself has been using the soul-as-power-source for ages (it was pretty much the running theme of s6-- it’s the souls!-- and this theme was returned in force in s11, culminating in the “soul bomb” plot of (gasp!) Andrew Dabb’s season finale.

Heaven was beginning to break down as a “machine” and a power generator not for lack of human souls, but for lack of angels to maintain the structure of heaven itself. In one of his first episodes, Cas even described the function of angels as being “agents of fate.” Their sole role was to literally “hold Chuck’s narrative together.” Metaphorically in the story-- in the original Apocalypse as the guides who tried to force Sam and Dean into the roles they were destined for-- as well as metaphorically in Heaven which was the “battery” that gave the angels their power in the first place. Remember what happened to Cas when he has been “cut off from Heaven” and began to lose his powers.

So the way I’d always understood the function of Heaven in Chuck’s story was exactly that. Without Chuck’s narrative, the walls would fall and the paradise Jack’s birth heralded would come to fruition THERE. Because as long as there is life, and free will, and more than one person on EARTH, that sort of paradise is an impossible dream. We’re seeing that exemplified now in real life, actually, with people claiming their rights and freedoms are being infringed upon by being asked to wear a mask and limit their social interactions to prevent the spread of a deadly virus. Does their “freedom” override the “freedom” of others who would prefer to remain alive and not infected by a virus that could kill them? It’s an impossible balance, because true freedom cannon exist in life without compromise and sacrifice.

Which brings us to Dean, and his essential humanity, which had been exemplified in his selfless love of humanity so strong that he became a cosmic disrupting force of his own by simply refusing to let Chuck’s story defeat him. He struggled with this throughout s15 as Chuck told him that his life had never truly been his own, and that he’d always been a character in a bigger story. He’d finally begun to feel at peace with who he was, with the family he’d made for himself, and everything and every experience he’d endured that had shaped him into the person he’d become, and Chuck’s revelation led him to doubt everything. In the end, he was finally able to see what truly DID matter, what really WAS real (thank you to 15.17 for confirming that Cas was one of those things that Chuck had also never intended to be part of his story, and that Cas truly had always chosen Dean freely, because his doubt of Cas was one of the main things hurting Dean in s15, epitomized in his crisis in 15.09 in Purgatory). So the fact that Cas was not “allowed” to come back to Dean afterward feels... punitive. The fact that Dean was not “allowed” to actually experience a real human life on the Earth he’d devoted his entire life to saving, the fact that Sam was never able to achieve peace and happiness in a life he’d struggled to find balance between a destiny he’d never wanted and a normalcy that had been merely performative for decades because shoving the majority of his life experience down to play at being “normal” was never truly possible, and required truly accepting all of himself to actually free himself from the half-life we saw him live after Dean’s death... all of that just... it’s exactly what Chuck would’ve wanted for all three of them.

And it’s depressing af, that when given the power to “end the story of Team Free Will,” Dabb chose to enact Chuck’s final draft, rather than handing blank books to these three to write their own lives. And it just looks like Kripke’s writing, because it kind of is his story. We just hoped it wasn’t, and that the final avatar of The Author in the story would be TFW themselves. But that was probably never meant to be. Because destiny is apparently still stronger than human free will, and isn’t that just depressing af.

[capevans3000]

The proposal

Summary: Chris had planned a very special date for you for a very special occasion. 

Warning: Just fluff stuff Note: Hope you guys enjoy this piece! Feedback and comments are always appreciated! <3 If you have the time, you can check out my Masterlist too! Thank you!

(Photo not mine!)

If Chris had been acting strangely for the past few weeks, you wouldn’t have noticed. As normal as he looked to the public, he was actually pretty eccentric, and you loved that about him.

On Friday morning as you left for work, Chris planted a kiss on your lips and reminded you of the date you were having with him that night. No matter how busy each of you were, there will always be planned dates. It was an agreement right from the beginning of your relationship that you two would always make time for each other. Of course, Chris was much busier than you, but being the perfect boyfriend he was, he never missed any dates. On top of the regular planned dates, you also look forward to impromptu dates or any pockets of time that you can spend with him, no matter how long or short.

“Yes, I remember. I’ll see you tonight.” You smiled and kissed him back.

Work was crazy but you would always light up when you receive texts from Chris telling you how much he missed you, and how was rooting for you. His motivation was what kept you going. When it was finally time to knock off work, you stretched your body and let out a silent yawn. You looked at your watch and although you were tired, you were excited for your date with Chris.

As you stepped out of your office building, you noticed that Chris’ car was waiting at the lobby. He didn’t mention that he was picking you up and you were under the impression that he was picking Dodger up from his sister. The original plan was to meet him directly at his house.

“What are you doing here, Chris? Where’s Dodger?” You approached Chris and hugged him.

“Well, I want to see you earlier, so here I am. And Dodger is still with my sister. He didn’t want to come home with me.” Chris chuckled. You nodded your head and followed him into the car.

Back at home, you took a quick shower and walked into the dining room to join Chris for dinner. When you stepped into the dining room, you were surprised to see that the table was empty. “Are we not dining here tonight?” You asked Chris.

“I thought we would have dinner someplace else.” Chris took out a piece of fabric and loosely tied it around your head to cover your eyes.

“What’s this for?” You laughed. You still hadn’t suspected anything because Chris was always full of antics like that and you had to keep up. Chris didn’t say anything but he picked up your hand and led you on a walk. It was a short walk and you knew you were still inside his home.

“Are you ready?” You heard Chris asked. You nodded your head and Chris untied the fabric. As the fabric fell, you opened your eyes and what greeted you rendered you a gasp.

In front of you was the most beautiful fort you had ever seen before. You didn’t know this, but Chris had spent the whole afternoon setting up this fort fashioned out of bedsheets and blankets. In front of the fort was a small opening and you could see throw pillows in them, making the fort look so warm and cozy.

“Chris!” You gasped.

“Let’s go in!” Chris laughed and led you into the fort.

When you stepped into the fort, you gasped again. The ceiling of the fort was decorated with fairy lights that lit up the entire fort, giving it a warm glow. When you sat down on one of the many throw pillows and looked up at them, they looked like stars.

“This is amazing!”

“I’m glad you like it.” Chris smiled. “I hope you’re hungry. I made you dinner.”

“You cooked? Someone’s really pulling all the stops, huh.” You teased.

Chris laughed and brandished two plates from the corner of the fort and placed it on a portable tray table between you and him. “I cooked you your favourite spaghetti.”

You looked at Chris and smiled warmly. “What’s the special occasion? Everything feels so romantic tonight.”

“Every date with you is a special occasion.” Chris laughed again. “Besides, I have always been a romantic guy.”

That part was true. Chris was every bit the romantic guy he always said he was. You have been with him for a long time, but even until now, you never got sick of his romances because they were always different.

“I think, I can make this dinner even more special. How about a movie?” Chris quipped.

Chris went and set up a portable screen in the fort so that it looked like a cinema. Through the projector The Little Mermaid started to play.

“Nice! I love Disney themed dinners.” You clapped your hands together in excitement. While the movie played, you and Chris dug into the spaghetti. The atmosphere was perfect. It felt as though you and Chris were out camping somewhere with the stars serenading you from above.

After dinner, you sank back down on the throw pillows and sighed with happiness. You loved every bit of this dinner date. Again, Chris had managed to make a simple dinner date a special one. You laid on Chris’ shoulders while the movie credits started to roll.

 Just when the movie came to a close, you heard someone knocked on the door. You looked at Chris quizzically. It was already pretty late at night.

You followed Chris to the door and he opened it. A delivery guy stood outside the door with a package.

“Ms Y/L/N?”

“Yeah, this is she.” You said and stepped forward to receive the parcel. You signed on the delivery form and came back into the house.

“I wonder what this is? I don’t remember ordering anything from online.”  

“Open it! Maybe it’s a present?” Chris asked, slightly more excited than necessary.

Back in the fort, you carefully opened the package and took out an A4 sized box. The box was beautifully decorated with ribbons. You gingerly opened the box to reveal a leather scrapbook. There was nothing on the cover of the scrapbook that could give you any idea what it could contain.

You placed everything down on the floor and plopped the scrapbook on your lap. You opened it and the first thing you saw made you tear almost immediately. It was the first picture that you have ever taken with Chris.

“Chris.”

Chris smiled and urged you to continue flipping the pages. As you flipped through the pages, you saw how Chris had chronicled all of the moments you have had with him since you met him. It was like taking a trip down memory road. You couldn’t contain your tears and you furiously wiped them away so they don’t fall and damage the photos. Beside every photo, Chris had even added captions. Some were funny, some were romantic, some were cheesy and some were just outright silly. When you got the last photo, your tears were already falling like crazy. The last page simply had the words “To be continued…” printed on it.

“Chris. This- this is perfect.” You cried. You were very touched that he went to all these trouble to make you this scrapbook despite how busy he was. You could tell it was meticulously made and definitely made with love.

“This is just another part of this date that I have planned for you.”

“There’s more?” You asked between your sobs.

 Chris smiled but didn’t say anything. He picked up the projector remote and clicked play.

Immediately the screen sprang alive. You turned and looked. More tears started to fall down your cheeks. You were watching a video collage of your family members, friends, colleagues, Chris’ family and friends, all greeting you and telling you how special you were to everyone of them.You were amazed that Chris had managed to contact all these people to record a video for you, which he had pieced so nicely together.

You didn’t realized that Chris had slipped away momentarily as the video collage was playing. At the end of the video, Chris and Dodger appeared on the screen. Chris sat in front of the camera and told you just how special you were to him. He was so earnest, so real and he was full of emotions. Your heart skipped a beat as he spoke. You were legitimately sobbing by then.

When the video ended, your eyes were red but your heart was full. You turned to find Chris, but instead, you saw Dodger at the entrance of the fort instead.

“Dodger!” You called and Dodger came running towards you. You noticed that he was wearing a shiny new collar. You hadn’t had the chance to look closer when Chris walked in. You could tell he was nervous. From behind his back, he took out a bouquet of your favourite flowers and handed it to you. You took it.

“Chris…”

“Did you notice Dodger’s new collar? Why don’t you look at the tag?”

You bent down and patted Dodger on his head and gently nudged the collar so you could see the tag clearly. What you saw, however, was not a tag, but a ring. The ring glistened under the fairy lights.

Before you could say anything, Chris knelt down on one knee and unsnapped the ring from Dodger. He looked up at you with the ring on his hand.

“Y/N,” He began. “Ever since you came into my life, my life had never been the same. You have made me realized that love is not just something we read in books and poems because you have made love real. You have made love a real thing that I never fully understood until you were in my life. Thank you for loving me for who I fully am. Thank you for embracing every of my weaknesses and scars, my fears and even my annoying habits. Please give me the chance to use the rest of my life to love you, take care of you, provide for you and be there with you even beyond the end of time. I love you so much.” Chris was crying too by then. “Will you marry me?”

You looked at Chris but your vision was blurred with your tears. Your heart was thumping so loudly with love for this man.

“Yes, of course I will marry you, Chris. A million times yes.”

Chris cried tears of happiness. His heart had swelled hearing the most beautiful word, “Yes”. He stood up and pushed the ring into your finger. “Thank you for making my life complete, Y/N. I love you.”

“I love you too, Chris.” Tears fell from both of your faces as you embraced tightly, the fairy lights still fluttering like stars above, the scrapbook containing memories you both shared laid at the side, support and love from friends and families lingered in the background, and Dodger nestled between you and Chris. The moment was perfect.

[fallingarchons]

idiot

pairing: xiao / gn!reader

cw: cursing, mild violence, description of injuries

in which xiao thinks you’re an idiot, but never once thought he’d want you to be his idiot

wc: 4.7k

A/N: hey everyone! i’ve never written before, and i’ve kinda been on my genshin brainrot for a while now. honestly this has been living in my mind rent free for a while so i decided to take a crack at it and start writing, and the result was this kinda corny, super cliche lil ficlet. hope you all enjoy! also, it’s not edited because i’m kinda lazy whoops. luv ya, n enjoy!

Xiao hates you.

He really does.

How dare you walk into HIS inn, stand on HIS balcony eating HIS almond tofu, grinning that disgustingly beautiful smile while loudly talking to your equally as loud companion about archons know what.

Honestly? Xiao thinks you’re an idiot.

He watches for around 20 minutes, fuming, as the two of you continue your high volume conversation that has done nothing but disturb his peace. Xiao decides then and there that he does not like you, and he wants you away from him as soon as possible.

With that thought in mind, he hops down from his spot on the roof.

His hand reaches out to angrily tap you on the shoulder, when suddenly he’s face to face with wide (e/c) eyes.

“Well hello there handsome.”

“Excuse me?”

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You were having a pretty good day.

You had finally reached Liyue after almost 2 weeks of travelling, as you hailed from Mondstadt originally. You were sent out on a couple commissions that required you to travel to the neighboring city of Liyue, where you met your current travelling companion and good friend Xiangling. The two of you had eaten dinner at her restaurant, where you were recommended the Wangshu Inn by a passing customer.

“Xiangling, do you know of a possible place that I could stay tonight?” you swallowed your Sweet Mistress before continuing. “I have to head out on a commission in the plains tomorrow, so I need somewhere near there.”

Xiangling opened her mouth to answer you, but a man passing by your table spoke before she could. “The Guili Plains? There’s a nice inn over there called the Wangshu Inn that you could stay at. The nightly rate isn’t too expensive, and the views are incredible.”

Xiangling sprung up from her chair. “Wangshu Inn? I know that place! I’ve heard so many good things about it. Oh and the food there- YUM!! They have so many amazing options. There's mora meat, sweet mistresses, almond tofu-”

“Xiangling! Take a breath, girl!” You cut off her mindless rambling with an eye roll, patting her back as she heaved.

The passerby spoke up again, “I would really recommend the almond tofu. The chef there, Smiley Yixiao, is a good friend of mine, and he makes delicious almond tofu. You should definitely try it if you end up staying there.”

You smiled, thanking him for his help before nodding to Xiangling. She met your gaze, and the two of you cleared your table before walking out.

Before you left, the nice passerby stopped you one last time.

“It’s still light outside. If you hurry, you can catch the sunset! The top floor valley has a gorgeous view of the sunset. Oh- and tell Yixiao hi for me, okay?”

Waving goodbye to the man, you and Xiangling started off towards the Wangshu Inn, a little skip present in your step. Picking up a light jog, you aimlessly chatted with your friend as the bustle of the City of Contracts grew farther and farther away.

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“Fuck, man.”

You had nearly collapsed once you finally arrived at the inn, out of breath from running for so long.

“It- shit, hold on” you pant. “It’s nearly sunset we have- we have to hurry up.”

Xiangling flashed you a quick thumbs up, equally as exhausted as you were. After getting your bearings, the two of you sluggishly walked into the inn.

A voice called out to you from your left.

“Hello and welcome to the Wangshu Inn! My name is Verr Goldet. Can I help you two travelers with anything?”

Given you still hadn’t fully recovered from the run, Xiangling took over, conversing with Verr Goldet about your anticipated stay.

While Xiangling handled the room, you decided to look around a bit. You walked down a small flight of stairs to what looked like a large kitchen, with a tall man cooking some delicious-smelling meals. The words of the friendly passerby flashed into your mind, and you asked him,

“Are you by any chance Smiley Yixiao? And do you have any of your famed almond tofu?”

The man visibly startled, a small squeak coming out of his mouth as he whipped around. Realizing it was a living person and not a ghost, he seemed to calm down. He told you that he was in fact Smiley Yixiao, and he happened to have some extra almond tofu on hand he had made earlier.

“Actually, if you could take this up to the balcony on the top floor for me, that would be great. Xiao should be up there right now.”

You nodded, taking the three plates of the gelatin dish from his hands.

‘...Xiao? Now who in the world is that.’ you wondered to yourself. Shrugging, you jogged up the stairs back to your friend, who was waiting for you with the room key.

“Oh my gosh that looks so good I am so excited!”

You returned Xiangling’s excitement with just as much enthusiasm, and you talked animatedly about how good it looked until you got to the balcony.

Eyes wide, you stared at the view in front of you in awe. The sky was a beautiful blend of crimson, gold, orange, and a hint of purple. The sun was but a small red sliver cutting the horizon. Leaning on the railing, you thought you had never seen anything more beautiful.

That is, until you turned around.

There in front of you is perhaps the most gorgeous man- no, human being you had ever seen in your life. He has pitch black hair with what looks to you like green highlights and- is that orange eyeliner? You look at his outfit- strange but it fits him in a way that’s almost unfair. But what really draws you in are his eyes. Striking liquid gold stares back at you unblinkingly, and you swear you just about passed out.

‘Well hello there handsome.’ you thought to yourself.

“Excuse me?” comes the annoyed reply.

Shit.

Did you say that out loud?

“Yes, you did in fact say that out loud.” the annoyed voice continues. “Now tell me, mortal. What in Morax’s name are you doing on my balcony?”

You know that you have a perfectly good reason for being on the balcony, it’s a public place for archon’s sake. But his steely eyes and icy voice make any defense you planned on vocalizing retreat down your throat, rendering you speechless with your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Your eyes quickly scan the area, searching for your friend to get you out of this mess, only to find she had left in the midst of your distraction.

The man in front of you scoffs, rolling his eyes at your flustered demeanor.

“Leave mortal. You have no business here.”

As he turns to leave, you finally find your voice.

“Hey, uh, green bean man!”

When did you get so bold?

You see him freeze midstep.

“...Green. Bean. Man?” he grits. “Why you-“

“Yeah green bean man because your hair is green and I don’t know your name anyways that’s not important basically I just wanted to see the sunset and I was told by a chef to come up here and so I did and I didn’t know it was off limits sorry it won’t happen again sexy man.”

Panting, you look at him, only to see pools of amber glaring at you from your outburst.

Letting out a nervous laugh, you fumble for the dish that was given to you, holding it out to him tentatively.

“I take it you’re probably Xiao so… almond tofu?”

You see his eyes briefly light up, before reverting back to their steely appearance. He walks over to you, snatching the food from your outreached hand. You raise your gaze to meet his, immediately feeling the intensity of his guarded glare.

“You are an idiot, mortal. Now leave, and do not come back here. Do not come near me.”

With that, he disappears in a puff of teal.

Unfortunately, Xiao was right.

You are an idiot.

For the next month, he watches with disdain as you make yourself at home on his balcony, clutching a plate of almond tofu every time.

Despite his harsh glare and “stay-away” demeanor, you make a beeline for him every time, already happily chirping away about something he deems meaningless.

He rarely answers you when you talk to him, opting instead for humming and the occasional one word answer.

That is, if he decides to respond at all.

You don’t seem to care though, if he’s thinking about it. No matter if he says anything or not, you always continue talking until he eventually leaves.

Despite what he thought at the beginning, he knows he doesn’t necessarily hate you, nor does he aspire to be mean to you.

Xiao, quite frankly, is just not used to this. ‘This’ being the idea of having a companion, a friend. He’s used to solitude, and doesn’t know how to act now that someone is showing interest in knowing him.

On top of this, he is dangerous. He knows he is dangerous.

Anyone who gets close to him eventually gets hurt. And why should he put in the effort of creating an emotional bond when all they’re going to do is leave him?

Whether it be by time,

or by his own hand.

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Yet here he is, 3 months into your stay in Liyue, attempting to make almond tofu with you at Xiangling’s restaurant.

You had dragged him to the city a couple of hours ago, whining that “it’s Lantern Rite, a celebration about YOU!” and “Xiao you have to go with me! Don’t make me go alone!”

He eventually gave in, (though it really didn’t take much effort on your part) and he finds himself being yanked by the hand through the lantern-lit city.

He thinks if you weren’t holding onto him, he certainly  would’ve lost you by now.

You are a whirlwind of energy and enthusiasm he’s come to find out, and he struggles to keep up with you and your curiosity. Every second in Liyue it seems you’ve found something new to look at.

“Xiao! Let’s go look at the Mingxiao lantern!”

“Okay-“

“Wait no, look at that food stand!”

“Weren’t we goi-“

“IS THAT A DOG.”

“I- nevermind.”

Xiao almost groaned in relief when you told him you wanted to have dinner at Xiangling’s restaurant. He just wanted to sit down and rest for a little bit, not used to the bustling social environment that is Liyue’s Lantern Rite Festival.

But maybe that was just wishful thinking.

That much is obvious to him when he overcooks his almond tofu for the fourth time. When he let out a nearly inaudible groan, the sound of your loud laughter rings throughout the restaurant. He looks over to see you doubled over on the floor, nearly crying at his expense.

“P-please Xiao. y-y-you idiot” you manage to wheeze out. “How- how- oh my god hold on I can’t breathe- how are you so bad at this?”

He should be angry. A mere mortal laughing at him, the Conqueror of Demons, a man with more blood on his hands than anyone will ever truly know, laughing at something so trivial like he’s never done wrong in his life. Like he’ll never do you wrong. He should be upset. He should push you away, tell you to never associate yourself with him again for your own protection.

Instead, for the first time in over 1000 years, Xiao laughs.

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“What did you write?” you ask, sitting on the cliff above Liyue.

A questioning hum sounds from next to you at your sudden question. You don’t bother to look over, eyes still glued to the lantern-filled sky above you.

“On your lantern? I hear the citizens write their wishes on the lanterns in hopes that the Adepti will see them and grant them.” you explain.

“I know that. And nothing important.”

“Oh.”

A beat of awkward silence passes.

“I… have my last commission tomorrow, so I’ll be leaving Liyue. I’m due back in Mondstadt to report to Kaeya my findings.” you say reluctantly, fiddling with the lantern in your lap.

You’re greeted with silence, the carefree mood quickly turning somber.

Another beat passes before you hear rustling, and turn your head. You’re met with the sight of Xiao quickly standing. He releases his lantern before you could glimpse what he had written before turning to walk away. You balk, calling out to him.

“Dude! Yo! Green bean man! Where are you going? I thought we were going to release our lanterns together!”

He freezes, his posture rigid. He can hear the thinly veiled hurt in your voice, and his chest squeezes in a way he doesn’t want to understand.

“I’m being summoned. If I do not see you before your departure, I extend my well-wishings. Goodbye traveler.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you speechless, alone, and hurt.

Your hand shakily reaches down to grasp your lantern, reading the inscription once more before letting it go.

‘I wish I didn’t have to leave him behind.’

A single tear rolls down your cheek.

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High in the mountains above Liyue, a figure watches as a lone traveler releases their lantern. Clutching the lantern of a certain adeptus, the figure reads the neat writing once more.

‘I wish they didn’t have to leave me.’

Chuckling, the figure’s hand reaches to snatch the traveler’s lantern out of the sky.

“Just as I predicted,” the figure laments, reading the second wish. “the Yaksha finally has a weakness.”

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You never thought you would be so hesitant to return to Mondstadt. But the thought of leaving Xiao your new Liyue friends was nearly enough to convince you to shackle yourself to your bedpost so you couldn’t leave.

You had never been one for rationality.

Letting out a deep sigh, you shoved the last of your few belongings into your travel pack. You stand in the doorway, taking one last glimpse at the room you had called home for the past few months, before heading downstairs.

Immediately, you are pulled into a bone crushing hug by a sobbing Xiangling. You faintly hear her blubbering, but it’s too quick and muffled by your shoulder to understand.

Your eyes quickly survey the room, flitting between the smiling faces of your friends. Desperately searching for someone you aren’t even sure you want to see.

Unfortunately (or fortunately- you still can’t tell), the adeptus was nowhere to be found. You lock eyes with Xinyan, who looks at you sympathetically. (You had met Xinyan after you bursted into Xiangling’s restaurant in tears following Xiao’s abrupt departure. She was understanding, but you still feel a bit awkward that her first impression of you was crying over a boy.)

You pry Xiangling off of you as much as you can, cupping her face so that her eyes meet yours. “Ling-Ling, this isn't goodbye forever! I’ll be back at some point, I promise!” you reassure yourself her. Fighting back tears of your own, you walk around to say your farewells to everybody else.

Your farewells are quick but emotional, and you find yourself crying as you walk out of the inn. A tap on your shoulder makes you turn around, and your (c) irises meet amber.

“Xia-“

He cuts you off, “Be careful on your way back. If you find yourself in trouble, summon me. Say my name and I’ll be there. Any time. Anywhere. Goodbye traveler.”

“Wait Xiao I-“ He’s gone before you can finish your thought.

Your hand that is reached out moves to whip the tears from your face.

‘It’s useless to just sit here and fucking cry,’ you think bitterly. ‘I’ve got shit to do, and I’m going to do it. It’s time to get serious and focus. Come on ____, you’re better than this!’

With that thought in mind, you straighten your back, effectively steeling yourself before heading out into the vast plains.

You don’t turn back once.

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“I should’ve turned back! Why didn’t I turn back?” you shout over the loud roars of the Frostarm Lawachurl stomping after you. Thinking back on it, you don’t entirely know why you accepted a commission in Dragonspine of all places.

You really, really, really hate Dragonspine.

You mutter expletives under your breath, cursing whatever god was willing to listen for making you encounter this overgrown yeti. You’re tired, cold, hungry, and running on pure adrenaline at this point.

What would’ve happened if you had just stayed in Liyue?

That thought briefly flashes through your mind, and in your distraction you don’t notice you’ve slowed down.

That is, until an icy fist rams into your backside.

You can practically feel the bones in your spine shatter as you fly off the edge of the mountain. Summoning all of the energy you have left, you force open your wind glider before you can fall to your rocky doom.

Through hazy eyes you spot a shallow cave on the side of the mountain. You wheeze out a sigh of relief, floating down into the mouth of the cave. Inside, you spot remnants of what looks to be the camp of a traveler. Scattered books, a pot, and- oh thank archons- a makeshift fire pit. As you weakly light the fire, you silently thank the gods for blessing you with a Pyro Vision. It really saves your ass sometimes.

You let out a small laugh through chattering teeth, pulling your jacket closer to your body as you lay down on the cold floor. Pain flares in your shattered back, and you whimper quietly.

With frozen tears on your cheeks and the crackling sound of the fire, you finally doze off into a dreamless sleep.

Oh how you wish you didn’t.

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When you do eventually wake up, you kind of wish you hadn’t.

First of all, your back is on fire. Your fingers feel like they’re frozen in place, and your head feels like you were hit upside the head by the hilt of Xinyan’s claymore. Your whole body is stiff and ridden with knots that you itch to stretch out but can’t due to the chains holding your wrists in place.

Wait.

Chains?

Your eyes widen almost comically as you stare at the glinting metal of your cuffs. Your head whips around to look at your surroundings.

“Ow, too fast too fast. Oh, my head…”

Recovering, you come to find you’re in some sort of jail cell, metal bars keeping you from the outside world, and- oh dear Lord Barbatos is that a rat?

Pfft. How cliche.

You roll your eyes, ignoring the pounding in your head.

“Hey! Is anyone out there? Because, uh, what the fuck? I have places to be! I need to go!”

Silence follows, until you hear the faint clacking of footsteps echoing through the dungeon. You can’t quite make out the features of whoever is walking down the dark hallway, so you squint your eyes at the silhouette.

“Well, well, well what do we have-“

Not in the mood for another cliche, you cut the figure off. “Save the corny villain speech, I don’t care.” you deadpan. “Just tell me where the hell I am before I blast you into next week.”

The figure stops right before your bars, and in the dim lighting you can finally make out her features. You bite back a noise of surprise, because you swear if this woman hadn't kidnapped you, you would probably try to court her. Her indigo irises look at you mockingly before she speaks.

“Blast me into next week…” she taps her chin in a mock ponder. “Oh! I don’t suppose you mean with this?” You look at her now outstretched arm, seeing your precious Pyro Vision dangling from a perfectly manicured finger. Your eyes shoot to your left hip where your Vision should be, seeing nothing. You’re at a loss for words. Your only plan of escape was with the use of your fire, and now you’re practically useless.

Dread fills your body. You faintly hear the woman giggle sadistically as you visibly deflate, but you’re too caught up with your thoughts to really care. Your mind is running a mile a minute, trying to pinpoint something that could possibly help you get out of here alive.

“Be careful on your way back. If you find yourself in trouble, summon me. Say my name and I’ll be there. Anytime. Anywhere.”

Xiao.

You could call Xiao.

La Signora’s sardonic smile widens when she sees your apparent internal battle. You’re thinking about it. She knows you’re thinking about it. She set things up perfectly, and now everything is falling into place. The normally composed woman is practically vibrating with giddiness.

“Do it dolly,” she taunts. “I know you want to. Call the adeptus dolly. Call him to you.”

“No.” your voice is firm.

“Do it.” hers is firmer.

“No.” your voice wavers, and her grin widens impossibly more.

“Do it!” she slams her hands on the bars, and you startle.

“N-no!” your resolve weakens further, and La Signora knows she has you.

She slowly opens your cell door, sauntering over to you with a sick look on her beautiful face. She leans down, her lips inches from your ear.

“Do. It.” she hisses.

You crack.

You wilt, whispering into your knees.

“Xiao, please. Help me.”

A flash of teal and black.

Your captor stands up. “Oh good you're here! Now things get interesting.” She turns to you with her arm raised. “Now go to sleep dolly. The adults are talking.” She brings her hand down on your neck.

The last thing you see before you fall under is the mask the adeptus swore to never wear again form in his hand.

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For the second time in what feels like 3 days, you wake up feeling like you were hit with a claymore. Shutting your eyes again, you snuggle back into the warmth of the sheets. Something grabs onto your arm and a voice mutters, “Shh. Don’t move or you’ll hurt yourself more.”

Your mind catches up to you, and suddenly everything hits you.

One: why are you in a bed?

And two: who the hell is touching you?

Fighting the excruciating pain in both your head and your spine, you turn over to meet the worried eyes of your companion.

“V-verr Goldet? Is that you? Why is it you? Does this mean I’m back at the Wangshu Inn? Why am I back at the inn? How did I get here? Wh-”

“____ hey. Take a deep breath. To answer your questions, yes it is me. Yes you are back at the Wangshu Inn. You were taken by the Fatui- you know what? I think there is someone else more suited to tell you what happened. He’s been showing up outside your door for nearly a week waiting for you to wake up.”

You balk. “A week? I've been asleep for a full week?”

Verr Goldet laughs quietly. “Yes, a full week. Your injuries are severe, and your body needed time to heal. Frankly, I’m surprised you're awake even now. I will take my leave. I can feel him getting restless knowing you're awake.”

She turns to walk away, pausing in the doorway once more. “Please go easy on him. He’s never experienced this sort of… attachment before. He’s just a bit confused. He really has never meant to bring you any sort of anguish, he’s just doing what he’s always done.” You watch as she leaves the room, her form in the doorway being replaced by one you know all too well. You begin to lift your body to welcome him, and he rushes over to gently nudge you back down.

“Don’t strain yourself too much. Your spine is greatly injured, and Qiqi is gathering what she needs to try to fix the fractures. She should be here within the next day.” He pauses, sighing. “I suppose you would like to know what happened, right?” He doesn’t meet your eyes.

He breathes in once more before beginning his tale.

“You were taken by a woman named La Signora, who revealed herself to me as the Eight of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. She had been following you for a while, and finally found an ideal moment to strike when you were in that cave in Dragonspine.” You are extremely confused. Why did La Signora decide to take you? Of what importance could you have been to the Fatui? Your confusion must have shown, because Xiao speaks again.

“I know you must be wondering why the Fatui would want you for seemingly no reason. She explained to me after I defeated her that the Fatui wants to wipe out all immortal beings. So she utilized what she found to be my weakness. Which is, well, you. Because of my apparent romantic feelings towards you. She saw our wishes on our lanterns during the Lantern Rite and...”

At this point you've drowned him out. ‘Apparent romantic feelings?’ How can he say that so matter-of-factly?

“Wait hold on back up. You-” you clear your throat awkwardly. “You like me?”

He looks at you strangely. “No I do not ‘like’ you. It has been brought to my attention that what I feel for you is called ‘love’ and that I am in love with you. And I am aware that you feel this love toward me too.”

He notices your silence and speaks up hesitantly. “Am- am I incorrect?”

The kicked-puppy voice almost has you flailing. You wave your arms wildly, and nearly scream “No! No. No you’re not- oh ow ow ow ow ow.” In your urgency, you strained your injuries. Again. Xiao’s eyes soften as he reaches out to lay you back down into bed, careful of your back. When the pain subsides, you speak again.

“No, you're not incorrect. I was just, taken aback, by how upfront you were. I do love you, a lot actually, and it’s very surprising that you feel the same way. I… I’m very happy.”

“Your face is extremely red. Are you running a fever?”

You weakly whack him in the arm, and he lets out a small laugh.

“I am just joking my love, I am not that dense.”

Your face flushes more with every word that comes out of his mouth.

“So are we going to kiss now? Since we are a couple in a romantic relationship I think we should.” You don’t know where your burst of confidence came from, but at his words you wrap your arms around his neck, yanking him down to your level. He braces himself with one arm on the bed, the other resting on your waist. Right as your lips are about to meet, you hear a thud and then an exasperated “Xiangling!”

You and Xiao look at each other, looks of equal annoyance present on your features. You push him up reluctantly.

“If you guys don’t open that door and get your sorry asses in here, I swear to Morax-”

The door opens slowly, and your friends shuffle, bearing sheepish grins. Your sword materializes in your hand, already glowing with fire. Xiao’s arm lifts to steady yours, and you mentally thank him for not making you look too out of commission. The glint in your eyes hint that you mean business, and Xiangling is the first to squeak out an apology.

“We’re sorry ____, we just wanted to know!”

Your eyes glint dangerously, and you nudge Xiao.

“Since I can’t exactly do anything, he will. Time to face the wrath of a Yaksha bitches!” you exclaim gleefully. “Xiao get them! Go!” you shoo him away with your hands.

Xiao shakes his head once more, before pushing himself off of your bedside. His jade polearm appears in his hand, and he stalks towards your friends. The door closes behind him and you’re left to your own thoughts. You think back to the words he’s said to you on many an occasion.

“You’re an idiot, mortal.”

You suppose you are an idiot. But maybe so is he. You’re just two idiots in love. At that thought, you laugh.

You suppose you'll get that kiss later.

[wolfs-hunt1]

Soaring Love 2

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Word count: 2645

Warnings: none so far, sorry for any typo

A/N: I did this mood board for this fic because I thought it would look better if we had some visuals to help, and I had a lot of fun doing it.

Part 1

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Breakfast is a breeze, compared to the cold shoulder Severus gives you all the time since then. But all the rest of the faculty treated you warmly since most of them had been your teacher from the year you had had in Hogwarts.

You go back to your room, to start unpacking. You look around for a few seconds, accessing the room, and well everything could go. You reach inside your bag and rummage for a few moments until you can feel your fingers brush over a rectangular wooden object, pulling it out to reveal a bookcase. You walked to the wall that had a window, and put the tiny toy-sized bookcase on the ground, taking out your wand and performing an enlargement charm to restore the bookcase back to its original size.

Taking a step back to look at it, and make sure it fitted in that corner, you start to take the rest of your furniture out and placing them on the ground before enlarging them back to normal so you could decorate your room before the school term would start. After all, you would be living here until the term of the year, so you wanted to make it feel as homey as you could.

Books were flying out of the bag, floating themselves to the shelves with a swish of your wand. and your clothes were folding themselves in the air, before neatly laying themselves at the bottom of the drawers. The room looked like chaos if someone were to walk in, but it was little by little getting tidier, looking like a proper room and not an empty dusty space.

It took you the entire day to finish, but once you did, the room resembled a better-looking copy of your previous apartment, and it also seemed to be bigger as well, wish wasn't complicated since it was an overpriced matchbox.

Once your room was fully furnished and all you had packed before coming to Hogwarts was fully stored away you walked down your tower, to go to one of the many school courtyards to soak in the sun and enjoy the rest of the afternoon exploring the castle grounds and getting reacquainted with them. The school was bigger than what you remembered, even more so now that you had more places you could go to without getting into trouble since you are no longer a student. So many new shortcuts and hidden passages you were afraid to get lost eventually. Maybe you should get a map of the place, just as a precaution.

During the two next weeks you still had before term started you spend most of it with Madam Pomfrey, getting to know the Hospital wing like the back of your hand and where all the potions and salves were stored. She also showed you to the teacher's ingredients cupboard, where you could take all ingredients you might need for anything at all, and the staff room where you would spend your free time between classes to rest and prepare for the next one.

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

The term has started but for a week, and already you could hear all the students complaining about the potions master and his classes, dreading the times they had to go to the cold damp dungeons to have potions. You never minded your potions professor when you had been in Hogwarts in your time, but from the small amount of time you had known Severus, you could see how the kids would dread him for his cold demeanor.

Your first year's classes hadn't started yet, so you had a bit more time to prepare them for next week when the easily impressed youngsters would be having their first flying class. You had prepared a simple first day, to just teach them the basics, and let them have a bit of fun at the end of the class. If they all behaved.

The older years had started their flying classes though and they were taking it pretty well to the fact they had a new flying instructor. They already knew the basics of flying, so they really enjoyed the practical classes where they learned different maneuvers and how to play quidditch. They were all extremely excited, especially second years, since they would have the opportunity to try out for the teams in a few weeks, so they were all showing off their moves and speed on the brooms to try and impress the team's captains.

In the meantime, you were being kept busy helping out Madame Pomfrey, that had asked you to help her with bandaging and healing some students that seem to attract trouble since day one. One second year, in particular, that seemed to have been pricked repeatedly in an herbology class by a particular spiteful Spiky Prickly Plant, that kept shooting its thorns directly at him, no matter how far he backed away.

With both classes and helping out in the hospital wing, you were being kept pretty busy, often time getting to your room existed and ready to sleep right away. Especially after the night, you had night patrol walking the corridors at night to make sure no student was out of bed after hours. Waking up after those days was harsh, and often time you wished you didn't have morning classes to give, so you could stay in bed for a few more minutes to soak in the warmth of the heavy blankets, that were a welcome addition to your bed once the temperature in the castle started to drop on the last months of the year.

Often you found yourself, in your free time, down at the quidditch pitch, just soaring calmly in your broom, letting it float in the gentle breeze, laying down in your broom while looking up at the passing clouds. Sometimes you timed yourself, racing around the goalposts and back to see if you still had in you to do all the maneuvers in a timely manner. Trying to beat your own personal best times. All this made time pass so quickly that it was almost Christmas break when you blinked next.

It's been a tiresome week, so once you reach your room you basically pass out from exhaustion in your comfy four-poster and sleep on. At least until you are rudely awoken by the shooting pain in your leg and back, causing you to almost jump from the bed because of it. You try to take deep calming breaths to try and clear your head long enough to get up and limp to your desk where you kept your spare potions, only to find all the bottles empty, the pain giving an extra jolt through you as if mocking you for not being prepared.

You made up your mind and start walking to the supply cupboard, many many flights of stairs below you. You curse every step of the way, cursing whoever thought having that many stairs were a good idea. thirty painful minutes later you find yourself searching the cupboard in search of the correct ingredients only to find that there was no dragon liver in it. You sighed and started to walk over to the potion classroom down in the dungeons, there should be some in the storage of the ingredients there, or… you though, if you went directly to Severus office, he would have some for sure.

Taking the solution that provided you with certainty and not a 'might have' you decided to walk to Severus office, a crushing pain in your leg almost rendering it useless, making you have to clutch at the walls for support so you wouldn't collapse.

You walked down the corridor and knocked on the door, not expecting at all the gruff voice that came from the inside, sounding tired and annoyed to be getting disturbed at this late hour. You opened the door and walked in, slowly, taking in all the details of Severus' office. You could see him at his desk, buried behind heavy potion tomes, reading them diligently and taking in its knowledge.

"Good night Severus." you say in a low voice.

"(Y/N). It's late, should you not be asleep?"

"I would, but I ran out of my potion for the pain. And ingredients were missing in the teacher's cupboard… so I thought you might have some here in your office. I just wasn't expecting you to still be awake at this time working." you could hear his sigh and the scrape of his chair while he rose, pointing at the chair in the corner of his office for you to take a seat.

"You do seem in a lot of pain, is everything alright?" despite his blank facade, there was worry in his voice when he asked it, walking to a small cauldron in the corner and lighting a fire underneath it and pouring some ingredients inside of it, starting to turn a murky grey color.

"It's from an old injury that never truly left. Sometimes the pain comes back, and I usually have potions to take, but my stash has run out without me noticing and replenishing it back. You know you can just give me some dragon liver and I'll be on my way back to my room where I can brew the potions myself, no need to burned you with it."

"No need for that, I am after all the potions master in this school. I am more than capable of making you the potions and it would be no burned what so ever." he interrupts you, making you sink down further into the plush of the chair you were seated on.

"Very well then." you concede, while you keep watching him move around his office collecting all the ingredients he would need to make the potions, and then adding them to the steaming cauldron, the liquid inside changing colors occasionally.

"You know, you can let me be the one brewing them from now on, that way you would make sure you always have a reserved stash brewed on time, whenever you might need them." the offer surprised you. Severus was willingly offering himself to go out of his way to brew you your pain potions whenever you would need some more, and that seemed so out of character for him that you just stared blankly at him for a few moments before nodding in agreement, not trusting your voice to make itself be heard with the amount of pain you were still on.

"Very well then." he said, getting his attention back to the potion bubbling away in his cauldron. The pain had subsided a bit, but not enough to let you go back up the stairs to your room. "Dumbledore said you used to be the greatest player on top of a broom Hogwarts had seen for a while." was he really trying to make small talk?

"Hum…. yes, I guess. I left Hogwarts in my third year, so I was only here for a little while. It was enough to get me noticed by some quidditch teams. But after my accident, no one would take the chances."

"Accident?"

"It was in my last year of school in Ilvermorny, I had already been invited to make the team of Haileybury Hammers once I finished the school year, when it happened. I was playing a school match when a rogue bludger came hurtling at me and made me fall from my broom." he was intently looking at you, while stirring the cauldron, not wanting to lose any part of the story.

"What happened next?"

"I broke almost every bone in my body, spent the rest of the school year in the hospital wing in a coma, recovering. I was at risk of never walking again, let alone pick up a broom, so the team revoked their invite, and after I recovered, no other team would take me in, they didn't want to risk it."

"And the pain?"

"It resurfaces once in a while, there's only so much magic can heal. So I use the potions to numb the pain so I can go on with the rest of my day." he was now searching his shelves for an empty bottle to pour the liquid potion inside of it, having one vial to you right away so you could take it. "Thank you, Severus." the potion took a few minutes to start working, but once it did, you could feel all the pain ebbing away right away, instead of just numbing it like your potions usually did. "This one is quite a strong potion."

"Well, I wouldn't be much of a potions master if I couldn't make the potions stronger. Besides you seemed about to pass out from the pain, so I thought something stronger could be of help."

"Thank you, once again for it."

"I'll have new batched ready for you every week, if you need more sooner let me know, for now, I'll bottle the rest of the cauldron and deliver it to you in the morning." he walked to the door to open it, so you started to rise from the chair so you could leave the man alone, he was clearly done with your presence bothering him so late into the night, when he surprised you by supporting your back with his arm, accompany you to the door and out to the cold dungeon. "I'll accompany you to your room, to make sure you don't fall."

"You don't need to, I'll be okay…" he interrupts you by making a dismissive sound and waving his other hand around.

"It's no big trouble, I couldn't sleep anyway, so maybe having a walk before going to bed will help. So… is that why you took the flying instructor's position here?" he asked after a long pause of somewhat awkward silence.

"Yes. Flying was my everything, my parents were always on the move, so I learned how to fly in a broom from a very young age, being up in the clouds was my safe haven. Flying was one of my only constants, I never keep many friends since I rarely stayed for even one year in the same school. Hogwarts was the only one I stayed more time. Once I woke up, and they told me I might not walk again I wasn't worried about it, really, I was more worried I would have to give up on flying in my broom." Severus looked at you once you said that, almost like he understood the pain of what had to give up on something that you loved doing did.

"Dumbledor talks highly of your skills, he even said he was most pleased that you took the position, and he could see you teach the first years with all the knowledge you had." that made you smile. The students were taking your classes very seriously and because of that, you always let them have little games at the end of your classes, like dodgeball, but on a broom, training their fast reflexes on the broom, and letting them have fun in the process.

"I'm glad I took the position. I missed the bustle hustle of quidditch, so teaching it is the next best thing. And the students make it worth it."

"They could do with more discipline and attention in classes." he complained, making you stifle a giggle by the annoyed look he had on his face while talking about the students. But you could still hear the fondness he held for teaching them. The two of you reached your door and after helping you inside, and making sure you wouldn't fall off, Severus walked to the door slowly. "Good night (Y/N)." he said and left without much noise, leaving you to think about all that happened since you walked down to the dungeons a couple of hours before.

[recentanimenews]

INTERVIEW: After 13 Years, Indie RPG Masterpiece Ruina is Finally Available in English

All screenshots of Ruina: Fairy Tale of the Forgotten Ruins taken by author

  This article was made possible through the invaluable contributions of translators Dink and bool, and further aided by context generously provided by writer, translator, and RPG Maker scene dweller Kastel (@kastelwrites). Sections from their answers were excerpted for this piece and edited for clarity and content.

  Last year, at the start of the pandemic, a lapsed member of the RPG Maker community known as Dink stumbled across a screenshot while trawling Japanese free game websites: a black obelisk standing in the midst of ruins. “This is going to make me sound like I've been huffing paint, but this image spoke to something quite visceral for me — like I'd been waiting to find this game. Something about the sepia tones, the light and shadows, the elegance of its very archetype. I knew I had to play it.” Dink had stumbled across Ruina: Haitou no Monogatari (Fairy Tale of the Forgotten Ruins), one of the most acclaimed free RPGs ever made in Japan. Released in the antiquated RPG Maker 2000 engine in 2008 by developer Shoukichi Karekusa, it retains a strong cult following and has even been translated into Chinese. Yet unlike its RPG Maker siblings Yume Nikki and Ib, Ruina is practically unknown in English-speaking countries. Dink decided to change that.  “Once I realized that it had yet to be translated into English,” he said, “it was like I’d become possessed.”

  Ruina is unique. A role-playing game that takes direct influence from tabletop games and gamebooks, it boldly defies conventions established by classic console role-playing games like Dragon Quest and Final Fantasy. Rather than controlling the main character across a top-down map, the player slowly uncovers a hand-illustrated map of nodes. Survival in the dungeon requires the use of ropes, pickaxes, and oil for your lantern, resources that are all expendable. Your party members are valuable not only for their combat skills but for their out-of-combat abilities: thieving, sneaking, even swimming. Most of all, Ruina allows for choice and consequence, a phenomenon far more common in western RPGs than Japanese RPGs. Say you stumble across treasure in a dungeon, but are ambushed by thieves who want the treasure for themselves. Do you give the treasure to the thieves? Stand your ground? Or attack the thieves before they can do the same to you? Since your ability to save in the dungeon is heavily rationed, you may find yourself having to choose between restarting a save or living with the messy outcomes of your choices.

    There’s something to Ruina that grounds it in the Japanese RPG tradition, rather than a straightforward riff on Wizardry or Might & Magic. Those earlier games gave you several choices as to building your party, but little in the way of story or character. Ruina is a far more curated experience. On starting the game, you’re offered four “backgrounds” that align you with certain other characters, just one year before Dragon Age: Origins would pull a similar trick. Rather than being given the full freedom to explore a sprawling world, your options are limited to navigating a single, contained dungeon. The characters available to be recruited into your party have defined personalities and quirks — some are already good friends of yours, others are insufferable, and still others have significant flaws that speak to the kind of person they are versus their gameplay function. These are NPCs out of the Baldur’s Gate school, given the illusion of life, rather than the team of personalized murderers you’d recruit in an Etrian Odyssey game.

  Very little else in the Japanese games scene is like Ruina. You could draw comparisons with games like Unlimited Saga and Scarlet Grace, representing the legacy of controversial SQUARE ENIX auteur Akitoshi Kawazu. You could similarly connect Ruina with Yasumi Matsuda’s experimental Crimson Shroud, which takes influence from tabletop to the point that it has the player rolling dice in-game. But Ruina is more accessible and polished than a Kawazu game, and far more fleshed out than Crimson Shroud. Even Etrian Odyssey, with its comparatively barebones story and characters, doesn’t quite compare. Ruina stands alone in the Japanese free games community, a legendary title that people respect but don’t fully understand how to replicate.

    A few days ago I reached out to Kastel, an academic, writer, and translator who is very familiar with Japan’s RPG Maker scene, about where Ruina fit in Japan’s wider field of indie games. “I know many people in the furige (free game) scene who love the game to death,” they said. “But they also found it to be a hard sell due to its unique, almost western take on the scene. The fact that the game is even this popular speaks to something.” Despite its crunchy mechanics and niche inspirations, the game is popular enough to have spawned light novels, an honor not unique to it (other RPG Maker games have accomplished the same) but certainly significant. Kastel drew a comparison between Ruina and Darkest Dungeon, another weird and uncompromising game that draws from both Japanese and western RPGs. “Ruina is sorta different from everything, but you also see dungeon crawlers get inspired by it,” they said. “Not all games take direct inspiration, but you can’t help but see a little bit of Ruina here and there.”

  So why did it take so long for anybody to translate Ruina? Dink isn’t the only person to try his hand at translating it into English; just last fall, another forum dweller placed an ad recruiting a translation team to tackle the game. The unfortunate reality is that translating text within the RPG Maker engine into English requires intensive and repetitive labor. “There’ve been tools developed by vgperson [a prominent translator of RPG Maker games] for RPG Maker 2000 and some other machine translation tools for newer games, but they all remain difficult to use for translators,” Kastel says. “The way games are scripted uses events inside the map and developers rarely name them. So not only do you need to edit it via the appropriate RPG Maker engine, but you also need to go through each event contextless unless the creator actually notes things down.” So, the enterprising Ruina translator doesn’t just need to translate all the text in the game into English. It isn’t even a question of whether or not to manually edit the game’s many pictures and custom menus into English by hand. It’s the sheer difficulty of navigating between thousands of (often poorly labeled) events and variables in the RPG Maker engine, ensuring not to introduce any new bugs or errors in the process, while also finding the time to do all of the above.

    Dink was assisted by a friend of his named bool, who played through the game alongside the translation process and gave invaluable advice and fixes. “Uncovering the mystery in the game's story sort of ran parallel with the translation of the game itself,” bool says. “As the story progressed, the characters would decipher and learn more about the lore of the eponymous ruins within the game, and as the translation progressed, the same held true for us. It really captivated me to be a part of this process, and I started to look forward to each new area that I could explore and each new morsel of the story I could understand.”

  Without bool’s efforts, it might have taken far longer to put together something workable. As it was, it took four exhausting months. “I worked long hours — 12+ hours a day, 6, sometimes 7 days a week on top of my day job — and very rarely used my free time on anything else,” Dink says. “I did manually input the text in RPG Maker 2000, which has raised some eyebrows because there are some very nice tools available for game translation that would have saved me a lot of time. However, a huge advantage of working directly in the editor is being able to see the game more or less as it appears to players. A Notepad file streamlines the basic translation process, but it also heavily obscures context, whereas the editor allows you to see what switches and variables are being used, what music is being played, and sometimes even helpful creator comments, all in the same relative order you'd experience it from within the game.” Dink had one more secret weapon up his sleeve: the experience of working with the RPG Maker engine as an adolescent. RPG Maker has a reputation of being a tool designed to churn out Dragon Quest clones with ease; but nobody knows the intense difficulty of forcing the engine to do something, anything, like a former RPG Maker developer does. 

    The English version of Ruina, as it currently exists, is a workable but inevitably compromised version of the game. Running the game requires installing the Japanese RTP pack of visual and audio resources for RPG Maker to function, along with the use of the EasyRPG player to provide English-language player name entry. There’s the matter of the custom menus, as well. Several of the menus have been replaced with functional English equivalents, but by Dink's own admission they could use an expert's attention to better compare to the original. Other pictures, such as place name displays, have yet to be replaced by English-language equivalents at all. And the strict character limits of RPG Maker 2000 led to some creative truncating when translating from Japanese to English, especially with item and skill descriptions.

  But the existence of an English-language Ruina, one that renders the whole game playable from beginning to end with a readable script, is a miracle. Speaking for myself, I started the long process of learning Japanese two years ago in part so that I could one day play this game, never expecting there might one day be an alternative. Others in the Japanese RPG Maker scene, knowing the brutal difficulty of translating a game made in the earlier engines, were shocked that a game of Ruina’s complexity and length was successfully translated at all.  Speaking for themselves, Dink and bool insist that their own story doesn’t matter much. What matters is the quality of the original game and the hard work developer Shoukichi Karekusa put into its creation. Anything else is an addendum, another version of the game that — while it cannot ever be the original — might at least make something resembling that original experience accessible to others.

    Frankly speaking, I think there’s something to that. The “true” version of Ruina will always exist in its original form, released for free by Karekusa in 2008. It stands as the defining work of a creator who sought to create a unique experience combining the appeal of console and tabletop roleplaying games, with no concessions to market sensibilities. A creator who not only released their baby on the internet for free, but insisted that a game like Ruina must always and ever be free. An austere monolith, it stands side by side with Yume Nikki, Ib, and even Cave Story as one of the great works to come out of Japan’s independent scene. Now any English speaker can pick up and play this new version of Ruina, and learn what that monolith is and where it leads to.

  You can download the English translation of Ruina here. For those who want to learn more about the Japanese RPG Maker scene, I recommend checking out Kastel’s page here.

  Are you a Ruina fan? Let us know in the comments! 

    Adam W is a Features Writer at Crunchyroll. When he is not working through exercises in Wanikani, he sporadically contributes with a loose group of friends to a blog called Isn't it Electrifying? You can find him on Twitter at:@wendeego

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a feature, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Adam Wescott

[aion-rsa]

Midnight Mass Cast: Previous Credits From Hill House to Bly Manor, Legion & Sherlock

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If you find yourself thinking ‘where have I seen that guy before?’ while watching a Mike Flanagan show or film, the answer may well be ‘in another Mike Flanagan show or film’. The horror writer-director is known for his rep company of actors, many of whom appear in multiple roles across various projects. Below is a spoiler-free rundown of the main players in the Flanagan gang’s new Netflix horror series Midnight Mass, about the ripples caused by the arrival of a mysterious priest in a remote North American island community. There’s also info on who they played in past collaborations, and a few other places you may have encountered them on screen. A good handful will additionally be seen in Flanagan’s next series The Midnight Club, on which filming is already complete, and which will be coming to Netflix next year. But first though, welcome to Crockett Island. Be not afraid…

Hamish Linklater – Father Paul

A newcomer to the Mike Flanagan acting family, Hamish Linklater is now fully ensconced so expect to see much more of him in future and rejoice, because he’s the absolute stand-out in Midnight Mass. Commanding, charismatic, intense, and utterly committed, this is a big performance that’ll be hard to forget. Previous to Father Paul, Linklater played Division 3 Agent Clark Debussy in trippy comic book series Legion, and IRS agent Larue Dollard in Fargo season three, both for Noah Hawley. Prior to that were recurring roles in sitcoms The Crazy Ones and The New Adventures of Old Christine, with Robin Williams and Julia Louis Dreyfus respectively, plus recent Amazon crime thriller Tell Me Your Secrets, with his partner Lily Rabe. Honestly though, Father Paul is the only role anybody’s going to be talking about for a good while yet.

Samantha Sloyan as Bev Keane

The villainous Bev Keane is another stand-out performance in Midnight Mass thanks to Samantha Sloyan, whom you might remember as Leigh Crain, the wife of novelist Steven Crain in 2019’s The Haunting of Hill House. Prior to that, she played Maddie’s neighbour Sarah in Mike Flanagan’s Hush, as well as the recurring roles of Jeannine Locke in Scandal, Dr. Penelope Blake in Grey’s Anatomy, and several appearances as Victoria in SEAL Team. Look out for her among the cast of Flanagan’s next Netflix series, The Midnight Club, which is already in post-production.

Kate Siegel as Erin Greene

Where would a Mike Flanagan project be without regular collaborator (and wife) writer-actor Kate Siegel? We barely have to know because Siegel is a bedrock of the Flanagan collective. In addition to the role of schoolteacher and former runaway Erin Greene in Midnight Mass, she played glove-wearing empath Theodora Craine in The Haunting of Hill House, 17th century Viola (who became the Lady in the Lake) in The Haunting of Bly Manor, Sally in Gerald’s Game, Jenny in Ouija: Origin of Evil, Maddie in Hush (which Siegel co-wrote) and Marisol in Oculus. Siegel wasn’t in Doctor Sleep, possibly because she and Flanagan welcomed their daughter Theodora to the world almost exactly to the day filming wrapped on The Shining sequel.

Zach Gilford as Riley Flynn

In Midnight Mass, Zach Gilford plays Riley Flynn, whose return to his Crockett Island family home coincides with the arrival of the mysterious new priest Father Paul. Gilford’s known to many as sensitive young quarterback Matt Saracen in Friday Night Lights, but he’s appeared in plenty since, recently including Greg in NBC’s Good Girls, Ben in LA’s Finest, a central role in The Purge: Anarchy and recurring parts in ABC series The Family and Off the Map. He’s also going to be back for Mike Flanagan’s next Netflix project The Midnight Club.

Annabeth Gish as Dr Sarah Gunning

Sarah Gunning is Crockett Island’s resident doctor who’s caring for her dementia-suffering elderly mother. She’s played by Annabeth Gish, who you’ll have seen in… well, loads of stuff, including The Haunting of Hill House in which she played housekeeper Mrs Dudley. Gish also played Jed Bartlet’s eldest daughter in The West Wing, Lt. Jarry in Sons of Anarchy season seven, the therapist in Pretty Little Liars, venture capitalist Diane Gould in season three of Halt and Catch Fire, and FBI agent Reyes in The X-Files revived seasons.

Read more

TV

Midnight Mass: Cast and Details for Netflix Series from Haunting of Hill House Team

By Joseph Baxter

Movies

Doctor Sleep Director Mike Flanagan on the Possibility of The Shining 3

By John Saavedra

Rahul Kohli as Sheriff Hassan

British actor Rahul Kohli plays Crockett Island lawman Sheriff Hassan, following up his role as the internet’s boyfriend, chef Owen in The Haunting of Bly Manor in 2020. Prior to that, Kohli was best known for playing Ravi Chakrabarti on iZombie, popping up in a couple of episodes of Supergirl and recently voicing The Scarecrow on animated series Harley Quinn. He’ll soon be heard as the voice of Egill in Zack Snyder’s Norse mythology-inspired anime Twilight of the Gods.

Kristin Lehman and Henry Thomas as Annie and Ed Flynn

Here’s a fun fact: Kristin Lehman and Henry Thomas, who play Riley Flynn’s parents in Midnight Mass, are only 10 years older than actor Zach Gilford in real life. Another fun, but extremely well-known fact is that Henry Thomas, who played Hugh Crain in The Haunting of Hill House and Henry Wingrave in The Haunting of Bly Manor, started out as young Elliott in E.T. Thomas is a regular Flanagan collaborator and has also popped up in Doctor Sleep, Gerald’s Game, Ouija: Origin of Evil to name but a few. He recently had recurring roles on Stargirl and Better Things. Canadian actor Lehman has a similarly full back catalogue, featuring a great many TV and film roles from The Outer Limits to Altered Carbon and The Killing, as well as several TV directing credits.

Robert Longstreet as Joe Collie

Crockett Island’s town drunk Joe Collie is played by Robert Longstreet, who appeared opposite Annabeth Gish (see above) as caretaker Mr Dudley in The Haunting of Hill House, and in the Mike Flanagan-directed Doctor Sleep. You can also see him in horror sequel Halloween Kills and as Professor James in Aquaman, and he’s part of the cast of Mike Flanagan’s forthcoming Netflix horror series The Midnight Club.

Michael Trucco & Annarah Cymone as Wade and Leeza

Michael Trucco and Crystal Balint (not pictured) play Wade and Dolly Scarborough, parents of Leeza (above), Crockett Island’s sole devout teenager played by Annarah Cymone. Trucco will still be best recognised around these parts as Samuel Anders in Battlestar Galactica, but he’s done plenty more, including recurring roles in One Tree Hill, How I Met Your Mother and Netflix stoner comedy Disjointed. Balint has a similarly full back catalogue, with roles in Prison Break, The Bletchley Circle: San Francisco and recently Riverdale. She’ll be seen again in The Midnight Club too, along with Cymone, the actor who plays her daughter in Midnight Mass, whose TV debut this marks.

Louis Oliver, Igby Rigney and Rahul Abburi as Ooker, Warren and Ali

It’s unlikely you’ll recognise Louis Oliver, who plays teenage altar boy Ooker on Midnight Mass, from his first screen role as he’s grown up since then, but he was the young Sherlock Holmes in BBC episode ‘His Last Vow‘ (and also happens to be the son of Sherlock co-creator Steven Moffat and producer Sue Vertue). Igby Rigney, who plays Riley’s younger brother Warren, played the young Jesse in the recent film F9: The Fast Saga and will also be appearing in The Midnight Club. Sheriff’s son Ali is Rahul Abburi’s second TV role after appearing on YouTube Red series Good Game.

Matt Biedel as Sturge

Crockett Island resident and Bev Keane’s right-hand man Sturge is played by Matt Biedel (a little unrecognisable under a full and healthy beard), who’ll also star in The Midnight Club next year. Biedel is probably best known for playing Daryl in Narcos: Mexico, Sgt. Dale Chedder in The Umbrella Academy and Dimi in Altered Carbon.

Alex Essoe

Another Mike Flanagan rep company member, popular horror movie regular Alex Essoe played Charlotte Wingrave, mother to Flora and Miles in The Haunting of Bly Manor, and the Flapper ghost in The Haunting of Hill House, as well as playing Wendy Torrance in Doctor Sleep, a role made famous by Shelley Duvall in The Shining.

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Midnight Mass comes to Netflix on Friday the 24th of September.

The post Midnight Mass Cast: Previous Credits From Hill House to Bly Manor, Legion & Sherlock appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[theliterateape]

I Like to Watch | Zack Snyder’s Justice League

by Don Hall

Mythology is fun.

As a kid I loved reading Edith Hamilton’s book on the Greek gods and the myths. Hercules, Perseus, Apollo, and Hera—this fell completely in line with my love for superhero comics. The strangely petty human traits of envy, greed, and lust combined with the power to level cities make for some great storytelling.

Zeus was basically Harvey Weinstein in the retroactive revision we’re mired in today. If Harvey could’ve changed into a golden animal and boned unsuspecting ladies looking for careers in Hollywood I’m pretty certain he would. The gods and demi-gods of the Greeks dealt with daddy issues, mommy issues, bad relationships, and fighting. Lots of fighting. Sometimes for the good of humanity but more often for the glory of winning.

Zach Snyder is in the business of tackling myths and reframing them with a style all his own. His career has become its own myth.

From Dawn of the Dead (not so much a reboot of Romero's zombie mythology but a philosophical reimagining of the genre that arguably jumpstarted The Hollywood fascination with it), 300 (a borderline homoerotic take on the myth of the Greek underdog), and Watchmen (a ridiculously ambitious attempt to put one of the most iconic takedowns on the potential fascism of the superhero legend machine ever written) to his nearly single-handed hack at answering the Marvel juggernaut with Man of Steel and Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice, Snyder is in the artistic business of subverting and re-envisioning the mythologies we embrace without even seeing them as such.

Snyder's style is operatic. It is on a grand scale even in the most mundane moments. The guy loves slow motion like Scorcese loves mobsters and Italian food. When you're tackling big themes with larger than life stories, the epic nature of his vision makes sense and has alienated a good number of audience members. With such excess, there are bound to be missteps but I'd argue that his massive take on these characters he molds from common understanding and popular nomenclature elevates them to god-like stature.

Fans of Moore's Watchmen have much to complain about Snyder's adaptation. The titular graphic novel is almost impossible to put in any other form than the one Moore intended and yet, Snyder jumped in feet-first and created a living, breathing representation of most, if not all, of the source material's intent. Whether you dig on it or not, it's hard to avoid acknowledging that the first five minutes of Watchmen is a mini-masterpiece of style, storytelling, and epic tragedy wrapped up in a music video.

Despite a host of critical backlash for his one fully original take, Sucker Punch is an amazing thing to see. More a commentary on video game enthusiasm with its lust for hot animated chicks and over-the-top violence that a celebration of cleavage and guns, the film is crazily entertaining. For those who hated the ending, he told you in the title what his plan was all along.

The first movie I saw in the theaters that tried to take a superhero mythology and treat it seriously (for the most part) was Richard Donner's Superman: The Movie. Never as big a fan of the DC characters as I have been of Marvel, it was still extraordinary to see a character I had only really known in pages to be so fully realized. Then came Burton's Batman movies. The superhero film was still an anomaly but steam was gaining. Things changed with Bryan Singer's X-Men in 2000, then Raimi's Spiderman, and those of us who grew up with our pulpy versions of Athena, Hermes, and Hades were rewarded with Nolan's Batman Begins. A far cry from the tongue-in-cheek camp of the 1966 TV Batman, Christian Bale's Bruce Wayne was a serious character and his tale over three films is a tragic commentary filled with the kind of death and betrayal and triumph befitting the grand narrative he deserved.

I loved Singer's Superman Returns in 2006 because it was such a love letter to the 1978 film (down to the opening credits) but by then, the MCU was taking over the world.

Snyder's first of what turns out to be an epic storyline involving perhaps seven or eight movies was Man of Steel. It was fun and, while I had my issues with the broodiness of Kal El, the odd take on Jonathan Kent, and a redheaded Lois Lane, I had no issue with Superman snapping Zod's neck. Darker and more tragic than any other version of the Kryptonian, it was still super entertaining.

Then came Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. By 2016, Marvel had codified their formula of serious characters wrestling with serious issues of power and responsibility peppered with lots of good humor and bright colors. Snyder's desaturated pallete and angst-filled demi-gods was not the obvious road to financial competition.

I'll confess, I hated it. BvS felt half-rendered. Lex Luthor was kind of superficial and played as a kind of Joker. The whole Bruce Wayne wants to kill Superman thing felt undeveloped and the "Martha" moment was just stupid.

When Joss Whedon's version of Snyder's Justice League came out in 2017, I was primed for it to be a turd and I wasn't surprised. So much of it didn't work on any level. I dismissed it as DC trying and failing miserably and was comforted by the coming of Thanos.

Following Thanos and the time heist was COVID. Suddenly, we were internationally sidelined and the movie theater industry caved in. Streaming services started popping up like knock-off smartphones and Hollywood was reeling, doing anything and everything to find a way back. Since Whedon's disastrous helming of Snyder's third act, fans online had been demanding to #ReleasetheSnyderCut but no one was ever really taking them seriously until all movie production was shut down for a year.

The stage was set to remedy a mistake (or at least make some bucks on a do-over of a huge box office failure). Snyder had left the production in part because of the suicide of his daughter and in part due to the constant artistic fights over executives looking for the quippy fun of the MCU but he still had all the original footage. Add to that the broiling accusations that Joss Whedon was "abusive" during the reshoots, the path seemed destined. For an additional $70 million and complete control, Snyder delivered a four hour mega-movie streamed on HBOMax.

Of course, I was going to watch the thing as soon as I could.

The Whedon version opens with an homage to the now dead Superman (including the much maligned digitally erased mustache on Henry Cavill). The SynderCut opens with the death of Superman and the agony of his death scream as it travels across the planet. It's a simple change but exemplifies the very different visions of how this thing is gonna play out.

Snyder doesn't want us to be OK with the power of these beings unleashed. He wants us to feel the damage and pain of death. He wants the results of violence to be as real as he can. When Marvel's Steve Rogers kicks a thug across the room and the thug hits a wall, he crumples and it is effectively over. When Batman does the same thing, we see the broken bones (often in slow motion) and the blood smear on the wall as the thug slides to the ground.

The longer SnyderCut is bloated in some places (like the extended Celtic choir singing Aquaman off to sea or the extended narrations by Wonder Woman which sound slightly like someone trying to explain the plot to Siri). On the other hand, the scene with Barry Allen saving Iris West is both endearing and extraordinary, giving insight to the power of the Flash as well as some essential character-building in contrast to Whedon's comic foil version.

One thing I noticed in this variant is that Zach wants the audience to experience the sequence of every moment as the characters do. An example comes when Diana Prince goes to the crypt to see the very plot she belabors over later. The sequence is simple. She gets a torch and goes down. Most directors which jump cut to the torch. Snyder gives us five beats as she grabs the timber, wraps cloth around the end, soaks it with kerosene, pulls out a box of matches, and lights the torch. Then she goes down the dark passageway.

The gigantic, lush diversity of Snyder’s vision of the DC superhero universe—from the long shots of the sea life in the world of Atlantis to the ancient structures and equipment of Themyscira— is almost painterly. Snyder isn't taking our time; he's taking his time. We are rewarded our patience with a far better backstory for the villain, a beautifully rendered historic battle thwarting Darkseid's initial invasion (including a fucking Green Lantern), and answers to a score of questions set up in both previous films.

Whedon's Bruce Wayne was more Ben Affleck; Snyder's is full-on Frank Miller Batman, the smartest, most brutal fucker in the room. Cyborg, instead of Whedon's sidelined non-character, is now a Frankenstein's monster, grappling with the trade-off between acceptance and enormous power. Wonder Woman is now more in line with the Patty Jenkins version and instead of being told about the loss of Superman, we are forced to live with the anguish of both his mother and Lois Lane in quiet moments of incredible grief.

To be fair to Whedon (something few are willing to do as he is now being castigated not for racism or sexism but for being mean to people) having him come in to throw in some levity and Marvel-esque color to Snyder's Wagnerian pomposity is like hiring Huey Lewis to lighten up Pink Floyd's The Wall or getting Douglas Adams to rewrite Cormac McCarthy's The Road.

I loved Snyder's self-indulgent, mythologic DC universe.

So much so that I then re-watched Man of Steel and then watched the director's version of BvS (which Snyder added approximately 32 minutes). The second film is far better at three hours and Eisenberg's Lex Luthor now makes sense. Then I watched Zach Snyder's Justice League a second time.

After nineteen hours of Snyder's re-imagining of these DC heroes and villains, I saw details that, upon first viewing, are ignored or dismissed, but after seeing them in order and complete, are suddenly consistent and relevant. Like Nolan or Fincher, Snyder defies anyone to eliminate even one piece of his narrative no matter how long. With all the pieces, this is an epic story and the pieces left at the extended epilogue play into a grander narrative we will never see.

Or maybe we will. Who knows these days?

[scribbling-stiks]

Retrievers - V - Bloodbath

Russia finds himself counting water bottles, trying to distract himself from his churning emotions. He mutters the strange English numbers under his breath, and though he couldn't hear how loud he is, he gets no complaints.

Thuds against the door to the hideout pull him violently from his daydreams of kisses and heroism.

Russia stands and walks briskly up to the door. He listens and hears the gurgling from earlier. He stiffens.

'S***.'

Russia readies himself to fend off whatever it is and he steps back. He holds out his hand and herds the states and providences back.

"Shhh!" Russia demands.

The group falls quiet.

America pushes his way to the front and takes a place next to Russia. America wipes his face on last time with the back of his hand before his expression stiffens into a harsh glare directed at the door.

America summons his scythe, and Massachusetts, Connecticut, Arizona, and a few others summon their respective weapons, ready for a fight.

Russia snarls.

'I am not letting whatever that thing is to get near any of them.'

Russia bares his teeth and listens to whatever it was wrestling with the door. It gurgles and gasps from behind the metal plate.

Then it begins to sound like human hands scratching at the door. Russia's heart sinks into his stomach.

Even with Dixie fighting against it, the thing yanks the door out of the wall.

It screams victoriously.

America charges at it before Russia fully registered what had happened, with Russia and Texas on his tail. Russia fights to push its tentacles away from the entrance.

The monster is several meters tall and looks like it came from a sailor's tale of misfortune.

It crawls on its tentacles and thrashes about, gnashing its beak at them.

Around it are dozens of huge insects that skitter around, each one as big as Russia's face. The bugs look like armed, slimy beetles. Their shells shine with distorted reflections of the lights above.

Russia's attention rockets to the kids screaming in fear from what used to be the safe room. Countries race out and begin trying to kick and throw the bugs aside. Canada sends them flying with a hockey stick, though where he got it, Russia will never know.

The thing screeches as America swings at it, cutting open its face. America back peddles and hacks at the larger groups of the swarm.

Russia tries to keep an eye on the squid while Finland and Egypt fight it back, but he loses track of it while beating back the beetles from the entrance, trying to block any of them from getting to the states and providences.

Russia turns around for a split second to dispose of a larger group when it strikes.

A hiss. And a woosh of quick movement.

Russia knows he couldn't turn around fast enough to block it, but he also knows he has to try.

Russia spins around and gets ready to take a hit to the chest, onto to see America being snatched up right in front of him.

Russia feels his heart stop.

"AMERICA!" Russia screams, reaching out fruitlessly into thin air.

The monster screeches and dangles a screaming America up by its beak. Then it slams America into the ground hard enough to leave a crater.

America goes silent.

The monster whips America around before flinging him into a wall.

America flies back and lands with a sickening crack and thump, but nothing more, not even a whimper.

Children and teens shriek in horror.

Russia stares in terror.

He's stuck, and the sounds around him blend together. Colors mix and he stares at the only thing clear in his vision, a broken America, whose body is splayed out, unnatural and broken, against broken wooden planks.

Fear turns to grief.

And grief turns to anger.

Red hot flames roar within him.

They lick away at his patience and self-control, eating them away in moments.

Russia's vision turns blood red.

Russia whips around, snarling like a rabid animal.

He opens his mouth in a wordless scream that rings through the air before he charges.

Russia slams into the creature with his shoulder and knocks it off balance. He wrangles up its limbs and scratches it as deeply as his hands can manage, staining his fingers dark red with its blood.

Russia swings it up and hurls it into the floor.

Touching its skin makes his hands and arms burn, but Russia finds that he doesn't care at all.

'Must. DESTROY,' his mind roars.

He zeros in on the smaller monsters racing toward the kids.

Russia bounds off the wall and lands in between them and the screaming states.

He snatches the smaller creatures and tosses them like styrofoam models.

They splatter onto the walls like dark brown jello.

Then, his attention returns to the largest of the group and he charges it again.

Rage coats his throat in rust.

Russia screams, his hands curled into fists. He swings, breaking the beak of the monstrosity in front of him.

The squid creature roars in pain before lashing out at him, using its tentacles to gouge deep wounds into Russia's legs.

Russia finds he can't feel a thing.

Russia grabs a tentacle. With one quick yank, he rips it off the creature's body.

Dark red coats the hallway and ceiling.

Russia lets out a guttural growl. His teeth are stained with the creature's blood.

The thing shrieks and tries to retreat.

"No," Russia snarls, grabbing it and slinging it into the wall.

It scrambles away from him. Russia stares it down and it flees far too quickly for Russia to catch it.

Russia runs after it, following the bloody, gore-filled trail it leaves behind.

The only reason he lets it get away into the trees is a shriek from behind him. Russia spins around at the noise and races back inside.

Russia's clothes are dripping with dark red blood. It seeps into his skin, but the sensation has nothing on the anger boiling beneath his eyes.

He wordlessly crushes the beetles, cracking their shells, and his feet sink into their organs.

The red begins to fade a little, and he blinks a few times.

Russia looks around at the carnage. He looks like he'd exploded a butcher's shop, he notes. It smells like rotten fish.

Russia takes his breaths in shallow gasps, his chest heaving. The foul taste in his mouth finally registers, and he nearly vomits.

The paint on the walls is no longer visible, and the wood floors have been splintered apart in some places, though Russia finds that he can't remember the original color of the wood.

'Where is America?'

Russia spins around, searching. He spots America limp against a back wall.

Russia runs over, leaping over the holes in the floor, and ignoring the burning coating him. He slides to a stop in front of him, but can't get too close with the states surrounding him. He towers over them, and nausea hits him again.

America lays, lifeless, against the bloody wall. Blood pouring from wounds that cover him, bruises, and gaping holes.

California and New York work with Texas to reset America's leg and put it into a splint. It cracks back into place, and America doesn't even flinch.

Russia stands frozen, thoughts swirling violently in his mind. The color fades from his face.

'I pushed him away. He apologized, and I dismissed it.'

'That should've been me.'

The world starts to spin and Russia stumbles into the wall, his eyes like saucers.

"We should get that stuff off of you," Tenessee comments.

She and Georgia start to pull him away.

"No! Wait! Please!" Russia begs, trying to pull away.

The rest of the states surround America, blocking Russia's view of anything that was going on. The dizziness, nausea, and pain render him too weak to fully fight back anymore. They take him outside and Georgia blasts him with cold water from the hose.

Russia doesn't flinch.

'To think he didn't care at all.'

'I'm out here, and I don't even know if he's okay.'

The mud under his feet turns red, and Russia stares into it, wishing things had been different, but knowing he might not get the chance.

Tears and tap water rinse his face.

~

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