#idk why this was rotting away in my drafts but here

[ravengards-rogue]

✧ tags : afab + fem!reader, top karlach, bottom reader, strap-ons, breaking the bed, act three spoilers (vaguely), karlach is the weensiest bit of a bully, 18+

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡

Karlach can't keep her hands off you.

Not her fault, in her defense. She had to spend an incredibly long, incredibly daunting leg of your journey not being able to touch you at all. Really, some of the hardest shit she's ever done in her life - even with her time in Avernus being Zariels' little lapdog.

Now that she has the privilege, she has to make the most of it. Her engines burning her up from the inside so she ought to make the most of everything. You especially. Who knows what will be left of her memory when her soul ends up in fugue plane? She hopes and prays her last memory is the feeling of you tucked in her arms all safe.

That being said, she's always on you. She likes fucking you whenever she can, wherever you'll let her. You're proper cute when she sneaks into your bedroll and lets her hand underneath your waistband, muffling little moans into the side of her neck as she holds you. Got the prettiest little voice she's ever heard when you whine for her, grip her forearm and beg all teary eyed.

That's been good and well - fucking amazing really. But there's been one thing that Karlach has been dying to do since she's gotten back to Faerun which is fuck you. Like, really fuck you.

She makes you cum in other ways. Whatever available, really. Hands, mouth, the muscle in her thigh when you're especially needy. Gods, she's grateful to see you like that. Leader of the pack all soft and trembling her bedroll all night, a sight for sore eyes.

But she wants to fuck you. She needed a strap to do that, and those sorts of things are only easy to find in the city - not in the middle of nowhere in the backwaters of the Sword Coast.

She knows you want it too, always begging for more.

You're in the city now, though - and you've visited Sharess' Caress, and now Karlach finally has something to fuck you with. You're finally in Elfsong song now (no more sleeping on dirt!) and the rest of your party has gone off to explore the city. There's plenty of business to attend to. The two of you offered to stay behind, hold down the fort.

(And well, no one was really going to stay after that were they? Not with the happy couple around, with Karlach eyefucking you as openly as she possibly can at least.)

She really is glad that you have all this time to yourselves for now.

Now that she's finally, finally fucking you - she isn't sure it'll be easy for her to stop.

You're pretty laying underneath her. Naked, sweat making your skin sheen as Karlach stands back on her knees and fucks you on your back. Your chest bounces every time your ass meets the thrust of her own hips, your voice trembling as she gets into proper pace to fuck you.

She gives you a wicked little smile, watching with abject fondness as her cock slides into you again. Shiny with your arousal, your cunt is tight with resistance even as she goes slow. You mewl, your hands reaching to push against Karlach's abs.

"Too much, Karlach, can't—" You gasp as she bullies the swollen head back into you. "S-senstive,"

"Didn't take you for such a quitter, soldier. You were just begging for it and now it's too much," She goads, fucking you deeper. You groan as your spine arches, nails scratching at her waist. "Try a little harder, baby."

Your voice breaks into a pathetic moan, weakly trying to push her out. Legs shaking as she fucks another inch into you. You're so wet she can hear it, hear how soft your pussy gets trying to accommodate around her length. Whimpering you close your eyes and shake your head.

"Too much. I c-can't cum again, can't."

Fuck you're delightful. It's nice when Karlach gets the chance to render you as helpless as you always make her feel. Pitiful and tender, she hums a little as she bottoms out again. Her eyes go lidded with want as she looks at the place in where she's inside of you, stretching your tight little hole. Fucking pretty thing you are. Pretty face and pretty heart and the prettiest pussy she's ever seen in her life. She's mesmerized how something so big can fill something so small. You stretch around her cock so well, so perfect.

"Of course you can." She murmurs. Hot hands curl around your wrists, your arms straightening out in front of you as Karlach holds them. Your fingers brush against your abdomen again but don't find the same purchase as Karlach holds you down. "A little more and you'll make another mess for me to clean up like always, huh?"

"Karlach," You whine, your eyes fluttering open. Your lashes are wet with overstimulated tears, mouth curled in a soft and pouty flush. "Karlach,"

She laughs, sharp teeth showing as she rolls her hips - undulating slower. A soft pace to ease you into it again. She knows just the right angles. You like two ways. Hard and heavy, her hips fucking into yours

She steals a glance at your desperate face and settles on the latter. "I'm right here, pretty girl. And I'm not going anywhere, either. Now hold on,"

It's the most she spares as a warning before she sets a brutal pace. She use your hands for purchase as she pulls her cock out, and thrusts all the way back in with a loud, unforgiving groan. Her clit digs into the leather backing of the strap when she does, delicious friction making her head feel numb.

You cry out as she thrusts deep and hard, cock buried to the hilt again.

She keeps the same brutal, unforgiving pace. The room sounds with the weight of her thrusts, skin smacking against skin and the soft internal whirr of her engine noisy. Lewd, wet sounds mix with the visual of you laid underneath her, tits bouncing with every smack of hips.

She throws her head back back, euphoria washing over her in a haze.

"Fuck yeah, that's it baby. Feels good. Feeling me right in your stomach?"

You nod deliriously as your hand curls into a fist, struggling to keep up. She laughs at you as she ducks her head to meet your mouth. You kiss her with immediate fervor chasing her lips aimlessly while she fucks you hard and deep.

Her name sounds so good from your mouth, she doesn't think she'll ever get sick of it.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡

[okifyouinsist]

tagged by @killerandhealerqueen (i just keep forgetting abt this one SIGH but i have free time rn and im committed)

1. why did you choose your url?

growing up, i just wasn't a social media girl purely bc of the fact that my parents were super strict and I assumed they wouldn't allow me to have it and I just never really saw the appeal anyways. Then later a few friends basically forced me to make my first account and because i wasn't very creative and thought i was the funniest bitch ever i made my first user 'ifyouinsist' and it just kinda stuck ig

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them.

nope. i fear if i had a sideblog id end up neglecting it and forget abt it or make it my new main blog and neglect this blog and this blog is literally my baby

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

well i've had an account since like end of 2019, beginning of 2020???? (im pretty sure) i didnt like use my account tho i just had it to look at other ppls blogs not my own, i only acc recently made up my blog up properly and started posting this year when it was like 2 am and i was on holiday to visit my home country and my mum and my aunts were gossiping and i was like whatever who tf cares how late i am to a fandom and the rest was history

4. do you have a queue tag?

nope, my drafts are a terrifying place and if they ever saw light id die

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

to reblog pretty art and to compliment writers on ao3 AND on tumblr bc they deserve everything and more

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

logan sargeant. need i say any more???? hes my bsf in spirit

7. why did you choose your header?

loscar. LOSCAR. loscar. i am very much totally normal abt them i swear (lying through my teeth rn). they're just my everything unfortunately and sometimes i like to say the fist bump is their version of intertwining their fingers together

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

ik this bc it was the first i myself made and it was abt loscar obviously and i thought i was SO funny (im not) and its lowk still such a flop post but its MY flop post so here it is :)

9. how many mutuals do you have?

idk man im shy (scared of rejection) so i dont have a lot, like genuinely let me go see acc, oh ig its me and my 14 moots against the world i love you guys fr

10. how many followers do you have?

BYE my 26 followers are my 4 lifers fr (im such a flop this is hilarious)

11. how many people do you follow?

37 (sigh need to follow more ppl RN)

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

im gonna be so real idk what defines as a shit post but most probably yeah

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

idk im acc really inconsistent like ill be MIA for 2 whole days and the next week ill be on tumblr like for most of my day when i can its very confusing like today ive not been on it a lot im academically locking in and all that

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

ummm no. like. if i see someone i follow getting hate ill send them a supportive ask and then at the end of it be like anon ur such a loser get a life but other than that. nope.

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

im very much neutral abt them, like idc if i need to reblog it yk if i want to i will if i dont then i wont

16. do you like tag games?

YES (said in a very normal voice)

17. do you like ask games

YES. i love getting asks id cry if someone sent an ask (i have one rotting away from a moot rn i WILL answer it i swear)

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

can i say all my moots. i wanna say all my moots they're all famous in my eyes guys, i start tagging its gonna end with all my moots being tagged but like @killerandhealerqueen and @dwarvenchords were the first 2 ppl to come to my mind theyre both just the coolest fr

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

nah. i have FRIEND crushes on literally all of them tho. wanna be their friends SO bad

20. what is the last song you listened to?

Mamichula- Bizarrap

21. what are you currently watching?

in my docuseries era rn watching breakpoint (STILL)(i only have time on the weekends rn SIGH)

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy?

sweet. im such a 'lets skip the dinner and just get dessert' kinda girl

23. what is your current relationship status?

this is SUCH a complicated question to answer but heavily leaning more towards single

24. what is your current obsession?

sports. like just sports in general. like ive always been a casual fan of sports but i never used to take a deep dive into it but this year i decided to dive, and i dived VERY deep, so like motorsports, tennis, football, cricket, trying to get into hocky rn im collecting them atp. also. documentaries. like when i get time ill be binge watching like 5 documentaries i just love them sm

25. what are nine albums/ songs you've been listening to lately?

wish i could tell you fr, i mean, rn im re listening to SOUR by Olivia Rodriguez AGAIN bc thats the way my life is going SIGH, Olivia is my favourite basic artist fr, nothing compares to listening to SOUR for the first time in 2021

ANYWAYS, thanks again for the tag i really appreciate it, im gonna tag @ezisregrettinglifedecisions @fabeong @whatssthepooiintt

[remushrts]

Things you can't say tomorrow's day

— pairings: evan rosier x barty crouch jr

— a/n: everybody be nice to @fvsdiangelo because she's the reason i wrote this in the first place!! and she's the reason that this is getting published because i was 100% in letting this rot in my drafts

— warnings: alcohol consumption (barty is smash drunk, don't be barty!!), evan rosier is in fact a jealous guy, could this be called angst?? idk

For all his faults, Evan wouldn't consider himself a particularly jealous guy. No, he's not jealous. Particularly, he's not jealous of the girl dancing with Barty. He's not jealous of her blue eyes, staring at Barty's, or of her body, so close to his that Evan sees his lips brushing on hers. Twice. He's not jealous. Perceptive, attentive, maybe. Not jealous. Especially of Barty.

That's what he tells himself. Because he knows Barty, knows he is something of a tease, that he kisses at least ten people every party, that he drinks enough to fill a truck's tank, that he never remembers any of this the next day. He knows he won't remember blue eyes there tomorrow, so why bother, right?

Wrong. Because right now, Evan Rosier is the definition of bothered. His eyes send daggers to where they stand, his breath heavy on his chest, and if looks could kill, blue eyes would've dropped dead the second she laid hands on Barty. And people say jealousy is not a pretty feeling, but it fits Evan well.

Barty then looks at him and suddenly Evan forgets all about blue eyes. Because it's at him that Barty smirks, like they share a secret nobody else could possibly think of understanding, because it's to him that Barty looks now. It's to him that he walks to, stumbling on at least ten people in the process, and it's after him that Barty chases when he -finally - gets to the spot that Evan was, only to find it empty. It's Evan that Barty catches a second too late, and a second too late he's following him out too.

Here's a few things Evan Rosier has noticed in his oh so perceptive nature, now clearer at the outside of the party: one, Barty has a hickey on the right side of his neck, purple and red shades melting together almost the size of Evan's ring. Two, he smells like Regulus' shampoo, too many cigarettes and liquor, and despite Evan's right mind, it's intoxicating. Three, he has a small dot of dried blood on his lower lip. Despite Evan's right mind, he cleans it with his thumb.

The touch, merely a brush against Barty's lips, seems to bring the boy back to life, and suddenly Evan's name is dripping from his lips, sweet and desperate and foreign accented like he swore he hated, and suddenly Barty mutters the word "love" to him, and Evan is pretty much sure he short circuits right there.

"What?" He feels ridiculous for asking, and Barty's grin doesn't help a thing his poor case.

"Love you, Rosie..." And no, Evan wants to smash his head with a book because he didn't love him. He was drunk, he was beyond rationality, far gone it. He repeats it nevertheless. "Love you..."

"How many people have you said that to tonight?" Evan knows he shouldn't sound so bitter, that Barty can still tell the shift at his voice, because he was drunk, not brain-dead, even if Evan's mind tried to argue it wasn't that far off.

"Oh, someone jealous?" He downs what's left of his drink with a flair, and Evan is definitely finding a book right now. He's smacking some sense into Barty right this second because how could he get himself to be such a smug bastard when he was wasted like that?

"Maybe." Screw it, if Evan was going to be bitter, he wasn't going to half-ass that.

"Oh, my poor rose." Barty pouts, cuping Evan's face and stepping closer and closer until he's so close his lips are brushing against Evan's. "Lemme tell you, it doesn't matter, you're the only one I meant it to." And simple as that, Barty's grin meets Evan's lips, and kissing Barty feels far too right. It feels far too good, and Evan pulls away. Almost far too good for him to forget that Barty was anything by in his right mind.

"Real sweet." And he wishes with his heart that the circumstances were different, that he really was reffering to Barty's lips that tasted straight up sugary vodka, and not the fact Barty only kissed him because he was too drunk to think straight "Not gonna be your drunk kiss, Be. Sorry."

"And if it wasn't a drunk kiss?"

Evan scoffs. "Then you're a liar, Barty, and a bad one. Get yourself home, for fuck's sake."

"Rosie, please. Turn back." Evan doesn't.

"Go home. We can talk tomorrow, if you're sober." He can almost hear Barty cussing under his breath.

"Yeah, right." He was right, they never talked about shit like that. Evan would ignore it, and Barty would most certainly pretend to forget as he usually did. Evan knew him well enough to tell the difference. But if he never made a move, a comment, a joke about it even, it couldn't mean more than a drunk kiss to him.

Evan is still thinking about the kiss when he gets inside and leaves Barty. He's still thinking about it when he starts the engine of his car, and when he turns the corner and lets the house dissapear in the rear mirror. Barty is thinking about it too. As he passes out on the stranger's couch, the only thing in his mind is how Evan's lips tasted of beer, despite how much he hated that.

[artharakka]

2, 4, 7 & 37 for the OC Questions!

2. Do you have a personal favourite among your OCs?

sigh... it seems like these two are answer to every second question but... Paju (Willow) and Rhiam....... I just love them so much. They are very personal to me and I feel like there is most "me" poured into them.

4. A character you rarely talk about?

Idk if I talk a lot about any of my characters besides I guess Rhiam lately? But here's a character I've drawn and thought a lot but shared almost none as she is a character to a graphic novel me, @artist-rat & @iijadraws were working on (still on indefinite pause & not posted anywhere). We all designed one protagonist for the story and my contribution is Kasimira or Kaipo for short. She is a princess to an empire who ends up far away from home during a traditional competition between emperors/empress' children to determine the next heir to the throne. She'd rather stay home and continue her relatively comortable life, but she doesn't trust that her power hungry older stepbrother would let her keep that if she lost.

7. Are your OCs part of any story or stories?

I think... all of them have some kind of story? For most of them I have some sort of book or comic projects planned (whether I actually make those isn't that important but I like to dream ✨). Some are "just" game charactes I've created but even then they do have a story. And I might have plans to snatch them for other projects as well.

37. Introduce an OC who is not quite human

Marras is a god of shipwrecks and keeper of sunken treasures and souls lost at sea in my and Rat's anotherrr comic draft world. They (he?) are a minor and not-really-worshipped deity, he (they?) works under a more prominent sea god Salvia. He has many forms including a gigantic deep sea beast, shoal of fish, a cat with too many legs and his version of a human. Though his idea of how humans look is based on corpses rotting in water and sunken ship's figureheads so it is a bit... off. And why a cat amongst other things? Well in his past life he was indeed a ship's cat. The vessel he was on sunk and the crew left the poor cat behind and Salvia took pity in it and made it a god. As you do.

He could have a more morbid look on life, but he's in fact quite cheerful. You might be even able to struck a deal with him if you are lucky enough, but I wouldn't get my hopes up. For he usually only shows up to sink your ship if you have stolen something from him.

[your-ne1ghbor]

A cut scene from my Wish rewrite (FW: dead bodies) (Long Post)

Sooo I have written out an old draft of the story from Disney's Wish that was just called "Wish Rewrite" (how original). In that original story, I was just making up the story as I went along, but only stopped because of my modivation being in the drain plus the story didn't feel like something personal from me, so I scrapped the whole thing and stared from scratch.

I do not regret doing this, this allowed me to explore the characters and world building more than just head diving into rewritten territory without putting much thought into it. But....

The was always this one scene that I keep looking back on. For now, it is cut from the TKoRaT AU, but I might reconcider it, just might update or fix the scene so it would make sense, since it just didn't when I kept thinking about this particular scene, including with context. Or maybe still have that idea, but in a different context.

To give some insider to the very old draft of my story, Asha was a princess ofc and still the adopted daughter of the king and queen. Their meeting was very different from what we have now, where Asha was an orphan and ran away, only to bump into Magnifico and he took her in. Meanwhile, from what you guys know, Amaya claimed to "found her at the kingdom's doorsteps" (nahh they killed her parents). Maggy and Amaya were also VERY different from the current versions of them. It sorta reminds me of @annymation's Maggy and Amaya in a way. Anyways, the magic and the people were different too, where Maggy put on a "mAgIc" spell that made the kingdom look all happy, sort of like a mist to hide what is really going on in the kingdom. Like from the Percy Jackson novels. Idk like I said, sorta made it up as I went along. The story stopped around when Asha and Amaya have a conversation about Asha's current state on learning magic and it kinda ended there. PLus, the old story DID NOT have maggy building the kingdom himself, rather, it was passed down to him from generations.

But ofc, I always think ahead of these stories and concidered what the ending fight to be like or at least one of the fights between them. And during the one of the fights...well.....let me lay it out for you the best I can:

It is a 2v2: Asha and Star verses Maggy and Amaya. Maggy and Amaya got the upper hand on star and drained half of their powers. Star, legit unable to keep most of himself together, him and Asha retreat to somewhere in the dungens to hide and think of a new plan. They hid in a secluded room that Asha never knew was there before.

The room was cold, and barren. With a very faint smell that smelt like rot (we learn what that is in just a second). Star even mentions reconizing a sense of stars being here, but also not. Asha, using the wand that was given to her from Star, illuminates the room ...buttttttttttttttt......

Expecting to find like it being a armory or some sort of rest room for the soldiers guarding the dungens, they instead find bodies.

Bodies of all of the missing people that would have been illuded to from early on, where when people question the king and queen, they are never to be seen again. This is where they end up. Leaving the bodies in a room, to be later on forgotten about. It wasn't just dead bodies of all the recently missing people, it is a room of dead stars. The dead stars are hanging from the ceiling, somewhat like a trophey room of what they captured and killed. This is kinda the reason why the kingdom was passed down from generations, they are dead stars from long ago, slaughtered by the early kings and queens of Rosas. This was basically a hit of reality for Star, for this made them realize why the Stars dont go to earth to grant wishes anymore. They get taken advantage of, only to be murdered later and then forgotten about.

You can kind of see why I cut this. Not only does it not make sense to me personally, it kinda breaks the story. Why are there no guards guarding that room? Why do the kings and queens have a room filled with dead people when they can easily just toss the bodies into the ocean or smth? WHY DOES ASHA NOT KNOW THIS WHEN SHE HAS BEEN LIVING AT THE CASTLE FOR 11 YEARS???? (she was 6 when they found her) Did Maggy and Amaya murdered stars before? Have they captured one? Is that why they were so presistant on catching star? To have him as some sort of trophey? It just didn't make sense....but it also just drives home the point that Amaya and Magnifico aren't to be trusted AT ALL. It also does up the stakes: If Asha and Star fail to beat Maggy and Amaya, they will end up in this room to only be forgotten about later on.

But as of the current state if my AU, this just doesn't work. Maggy and Amaya do not have a room filled with dead bodies. Why the fuck would they want all of the dead heretics be staying in the kingdom doors when they can just burn the bodies, toss them into the ocean/river, ect? Plus, Maggy built his kingdom, not had it passed down for generations. There wouldn't be any dead stars hanged up like a trophey. But just because it is cut, does not mean I can change it.

I have been overthinking how things would work in the kingdom, especially concidering that the people are really empty without their wish, and get even more depressed after their wish is crushed. Soooo wouldn't drive them to do..........yk??? I dont wanna mention it since ik there might be sensitive people reading this, buttttt you get what I'm saying right???????

Idk Im just overthinking man. Might use this idea, might not.

But this was at a state and I still want it too, it was going to fall under the horror aspects of the story or still have it be unsettling to read. Although this would have driven that point home, it should make sense, and it didn't. Thats why I cut it for now. And it might say that way since I don't really see the use of needing this when we have a bitch that literally thinks they are doing the right thing, that ends up hurting the people around them and already has a pretty scary design if shot correctly and I am still figuring out the story and overthinking EVERYTHING 💀💀

BUt hey what do I know? The story is still in the works as Im driving myself insane over the fucking magic system and characters and worldbuilding AHHHHHHHH

Anyways, this is just a random tangent. Plus, wanted to spill some beans of this old old story for some reason idk man-🧍‍♂️

[saltysideblog]

Progress Day

A/N: idk what this is... not a fic, not not a fic either... but if I don't post it, it will rot away in my drafts.

Margo: *admiring the exhibits at the HexTech Progress Day booth* This is incredible...

Viktor: *he sidles up beside her, eyes looking steadfastly forward at the wall lined with his creations* Didn't think I could do it, eh?

Margo: Excuse me?

Viktor: I think your exact words were "crash and burn"...

Margo: Viktor...

Viktor: If you've come to beg for forgiveness, I'm afraid that ship has already sailed.*

Margo: I am sorry.

Viktor: Of course you are.

Margo: I was hurt!

Viktor: I never hurt you. *he looks at her now, eyes sharp and full of challenge*

Margo: You left and didn't even say goodbye. How was I supposed to feel?

Viktor: ...

Margo: Then you came back bragging about your amazing new life at The Academy, how wonderful the library was, the food, the classes...

Viktor: I wasn't... bragging.

Margo: It sure sounded like bragging to me.

Viktor: My life at the Academy was far from amazing. It was difficult. And lonely. No one believed in me. Imagine how I felt when I found out my only true friend wanted to see me fail.

Margo: I didn't want you to fail, I wanted you to come back!

Viktor: And I wanted you to follow me.

Margo: ...

Viktor: ...

Margo: *she looks at the ground in shame* We both know I wasn't smart enough to do that...

Viktor: You could've studied literature.

Margo: Are there any literature students?

Viktor: You could've been the first. A pioneer. *he walks away*

Margo: That doesn't make any sense, who would've taught me? *she turns to see him leave* Viktor! *she follows him with a huff*

Viktor: *he disappears behind a curtain*

Margo: *she stops, angrily whispering* You haven't changed that much... all that fancy Academy training and you still haven't learned how to say goodbye! *she turns on her heel*

Viktor: *he pokes his head out from behind the curtain* When did you become such a coward?

Margo: *she stops in her tracks, looking at him over her shoulder*

Viktor: You've changed too much... the Margo I knew wouldn't have let a curtain stop her from arguing... *he looks at her defiantly and ducks back behind the curtain*

Margo: *she follows him, whipping the curtain shut behind her* I- *her words are cut short as her mouth falls open in awe. The room has been darkened to allow the Hextech runes to shine on full display. Small illuminated particles float like stars hanging in the sky. Margo is speechless.*

Viktor: *whispers* Breathtaking, isn't it?

Margo: *she nods, eyes wide. She points to the small stone in the center of the room.* This is...?

Viktor: *he nods* Magic.

Margo: ...

Viktor: *he watches her expression as she takes in the room some more. Her eyes reflecting the swirls and sparkles... there they are, he thinks, the stars in her eyes.*

Margo: *she scans the entire room and her gaze falls on Viktor again. She looks sad. Heartbroken even. She whispers* I missed you...

Viktor: ...

Margo: *she shakes her head, tears brimming over* That's the only reason why... I just missed you... I'm sorry. *she covers her face with both hands and cries in earnest*

Viktor: *he hesitates, a hand reaching out to pat her shoulder, never making contact, instead resting itself neatly atop the other in his cane. He sighs.* I know... I forgave you a long time ago.

Margo: *she peeks through her fingers, sniffling* Then why torture me?

Viktor: *he takes a step forward* How else was I supposed to get you here? *he looks around the wondrous room*

Margo: *she wipes her eyes and furrows her brow* You're a bastard, you know that?

Viktor: *he chuckles and shrugs* Be honest, would you have followed if you weren't angry?

Margo: *she sniffs, no longer crying* Probably not.

Viktor: Then we're both bastards.

Margo: *she laughs*

Viktor: *he invites her to tour the rest of the exhibit by holding the curtain open for her and nodding his head towards it*

Margo: *she walks past him, pointing a finger* And just so you know, I didn't come to beg you for forgiveness.

Viktor: No? Whatever for then?

Margo: I was just... curious.

Viktor: *he tsks* Curiosity killed the cat.

Margo: *she winks* Yes, but magic brought it back.

Viktor: *he smiles as they both amble about the tent aimlessly... Margo listening enraptured as Viktor explains how something works. Viktor genuinely smiling and laughing at Margo's remarks... it's just like old times...*

*Margo's childhood pipe dream was saving up enough money to buy a boat and sail away to find her father, to build a new life, etc. She used to tell stories about how she'd take Viktor with her. After their falling out, she still held onto that dream of sailing away... but life (and drunken mothers) have a funny way of kicking you while you're down.

[girlbossblackbeard]

Okay the brain rot worms are already hard at work painstakingly breaking down every single letter and piece of punctuation in this synopsis and here is the word vomit we've got so far:

-"Stede reunites with his crew" which we mostly already knew BUT this means there doesn't appear to be any time jump between last season and this season. We're diving right back in where we left off.

-"and go searching for Blackbeard and the Revenge" so they somehow acquire a ship (I'm assuming) in the very first ep?? And set out to find Blackbeard. We don't know what headspace Stede is in when they embark on this mission, whether it's about finding a lost love or saving Frenchie, Jim, and Lucius, or maybe (and most likely) both! I'm guessing Stede will be in a "I can fix him" sort of mode bc he doesn't know the extent of Ed's regression. I'm also envisioning maybe a scene at Jackie's tavern in order to get a ship?? Where are they gonna get this fucking ship??????? Or maybe they're just collecting intel from other pirates in this ep??????? EDIT: ALSO the separation of going searching for "Blackbeard AND the Revenge" makes me think it's definitely the "both" option I proposed earlier. I think Stede and the crew have their own missions/motivations for tracking Ed and Co. down, Stede wanting to get back to Ed and the crew wanting to get back to their family/home and also beat some serious ass for the marooning, which I'm very curious to see if that has any impact on tension/intra-crew fighting!

-"Jim does their best to escape their kidnappers" okay 1) I cannot fucking WAIT to see Jim kick some serious Izzy and/or Ed ass if that's in the cards for us, but maybe it's more of a sneak away situation? Also note the lack of a Frenchie mention, my guess is he's too scared to try to escape and/or maybe they discover Lucius in the first ep and Frenchie agrees to stay behind to help feed him? Why isn't Frenchie mentioned in this part at all????? Also "does their BEST to escape" really does make me think there's some kinda duel, this wasn't just a plan thwarted before it could begin, it sounds like Jim put their blood, sweat, and tears into getting off that ship, but-

-"but the Revenge is in for a surprise" soooo my first thought was "surprise, it's Lucius who isn't dead!" but then I realized I don't think his presence would put a stop to Jim's plan. I'm guessing the Revenge gets ambushed by another ship, either a pirate/privateer or the navy for essentially draft-dodging, and that forces Jim to stay behind and help fight for the Revenge. Hell, maybe it's even Hornigold who's come to try to take in Blackbeard since he actually did turn privateer in real life, but part of me thinks that's more of a s3 plot than s2. It could be that Stede and the crew manage to catch up with them already, but I really think they're gonna keep Ed and Stede separated for at LEAST 2 eps before we get a reunion simply because that's one of the basic tenets of storytelling in film, for the most part. Gotta milk that heartache for all it's worth so the payoff is even sweeter when it comes.

Idk man!!!!! This show makes my brain turn into chef boyardee beefaroni!!!!! Share all your thoughts on this post below please!!!!!

[jakkuvian]

Okay here we go....this is sort of an au

What if future Rey found a way in the force, projected back in time and appeared as a vision to ben (perhaps somewhere between the events of tlj and tros), during his training days, ballancing out snoke’s manipulation, and reassuring him, telling him to hold on, to be strong and swears to be there for him.

She appears just when he needed someone who would understand him, she talks with him at night, but usually just the simplest things, and only about him. When he's the one to ask, she usually just turns the conversation back in the wisest way possible.

He notices she has a tender voice, the way she speaks to him, that puts him to ease in a way he needed the most. And then one day the visions and the voices stop (cue when either Rey "kills" Kylo, or when Rey "dies"), Ben tells himself that the mysterious girl from his dreams will come back, she has to.

Snoke is getting persistent, pressuring him, and he becomes more and more desperate to reach her. Then one night his master betrays him, he's terrified, surrounded by fire, and the pull to the dark is almost unbearable. He’s trembling, and screams for her to come back, to not leave him alone, but the voice he needs to hear the most, never comes. Thats when he realises it’s true that everyone leaves him, and he’s all alone, so he does what he needs to do, kills the past.

Years pass by, then one day he recieves a report about a girl who took vital information about the location of his past master, and he gets intrigued. He finally meets her, and hears her voice, then something clicks in him. “It was you.”  This girl is different, she doesn’t know him, her voice is not tender when she talks to him, there’s just so much rage in her, she despises him, and in a way he understands.

Yet he just desperately wants to understand the reason, she was the only light, the voice in his head and how after all...she found her way, back to him.

@bukaterswanscavenger

[emotionally-damaged-carrot]

Marc spector/jake lockley/steven grant x male reader

Secrets

Idk what this is, it's just rotting in my drafts, sorry. But I will rewrite this if the requester wants. Once I get my shit together tho. Cause rn my tumblr is going brrr

And idk why, it's messing up my stuff. I will rewrite this if the requester wants. (I promise my writings are not always shit)

"Oy Stevie get back to work, stop staring at y/n!"

I hear Donna shout at me from across the room. Catching the attention of y/n.

"Yea Stevie, get back to work!"

I hear y/n shout at me teasingly seeing the cheeky smirk that crept up to his face.

"Yea yea."

I say in an annoyed manner. Looking at him with a soft smile.

——————

Sitting here on the counter near Steven staring at him doing his inventory stuff that I don't really know anything about. I never really knew how he is ripped during the times that I would see him shirtless. I haven't seen him work out and yet he's ripped. I don't see any workout equipment in his apartment, which is where I like to hang out when I'm bored during the day, but at night. I tend to go back to my shared apartment. So he must be working out at night then, but what gym would be op-

My thinking was cut short as I heard Steven say my name.

"Y/n?"

"Hm?"

"You okay, love? You blanked out there for a moment."

He says with a worried look on his face and his voice a lot more softer than before.

"How are you ripped?"

I suddenly blurted out, which surprised both of us. But when I said it, Steven just froze and continued to scan the items, and stayed quiet.

"Steve?"

I try to call out after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Steven?"

"Hm?"

He hums in acknowledgement, not look at me, eyes still focused on what he is doing.

"D-did I say something wrong?"

"Nope."

He says popping the p and still not looking at me. After a while, I just decided to let it go.

——————

Walking y/n back to his shared apartment after that question, was very awkward, I didn't know how to say it without sounding crazy. Like, how am I supposed to explain to him, that even with the restraint on, my body still moves around?

'You should tell him, he'll understand. He's smart.'

I hear Marc say, as I pass by a store window glass seeing him with arms crossed, like the usual.

"H-how am I going to bloody explain it to him? Huh? How am I gonna explain to him that someone controls my body at night, and goes around fighting bad guys?"

'He will be fine.'

"Yea, sure."

I say rolling my eyes, as I start to walk away but not without hearing Marc.

'Either you do it or I will, or maybe even Jake.'

——————

Seeing y/n walk in the museum the next day, he wasn't his usual bubbly self. He looked tired, he had bags under his eyes, I guess close to what I look like.

'Poor thing was probably overthinking on whether he upset you or not.'

I hear Marc say from the mirror on the counter.

"If you want to, then bloody tell him."

'And watch him freak out even more when your accent changes? Do you really want to give him more things to overthink?'

"You're such a coward."

'Says the one who doesn't want to tell the guy he likes the truth.'

Marc says with a smirk.

"Like you didn't do the same with layla."

I say, immidiately regretting my choice of words.

"Oh my god, that was a low blow, I'm so sorry."

Marc didn't say anything as his smirk fell, and replaced with an apathetic look.

——————

Hearing Steven's voice, I turn to the origin of it, seeing him look at the mirror, and talking to it. Looking like he is actually having a conversation with someone.

Staring at him talking to himself on a mirror makes me smile, just seeing how annoyed he looked. It was adorable.

——————

'You know he's staring at you, right?'

Marc says with a smirk.

Looking around for y/n, I see him standing in the middle of the museum still with his bag on, looking at me with a smile.

'He looks cute, doesn't he?'

"Shut up, Marc."

I say looking down and blushing.

'Hmph.'

Looking back up, I see him still staring at me with the adorable smile. Seemingly out of it.

"Oi y/n, get prepared one of your tour groups are coming in 20 minutes."

We both hear Donna say. Both of us look at her looking between the two of us with a smirk.

"Get back to work Stevie, and y/n hurry up."

We both go back to what we were doing, with me arranging little trinkets and postcards and him preparing for his tour group.

——————

After work, I went to the counter to wait for Steven to finish cleaning up and stuff.

"Y/n, I-i need to to tell you something. Can we go back to my flat?"

Steven says holding his bag and looking at me with worry in his eyes.

"Did anything happen?"

"I just need to tell you something. And I think it would be better to tell you in private."

He says, now with a different accent and proper posture as we walk to his flat.

"You're not Steven, are you?"

I say looking at him with suspicion.

"I told him you were smart. No, I'm not Steven, I will explain everything back at my place."

He says with a brief look towards me.

——————

"Is that why Steven uses an ankle restraint?"

"Yea."

We have a brief conversation as we prepare ourselves for bed, knowing that I will most likely be staying the night. I go to his closet to at least get some clothes. Settling for one of his sweaters that are way too big for me. Going past my hips covering half of my thighs.

"Soooo, what is it?"

"Okay, let's start from the beginning."

*let's just say Marc explained everything, from him to steven to jake and moonknight, just everything.*

"No wonder you're ripped."

I say now imagining what it would be like to see him just coming back from his moonknight business. All dirty and sweaty.

"You're staring,cariño."

I hear who I am assuming is Jake, say.

"Don't worry, it's okay to stare."

He says coming closer to me.

"Te ves lindo asi."

He says grabbing my hands and pulling me towards him.

"You're very light, hun."

Marc says, guessing by the accent change.

He pins me to a wall, and biting my neck.

"I'm gonna give you time to drink water and prepare, cause you will screaming all night."

He says on my neck and pulling back but not before sucking a dark bruise.

"I will be right back, you better be ready when I comeback."

[its-deputy-caleb]

If you’re comfortable sharing... id love to hear about your OCs! (Especially if in the far cry universe)

sksks get ready for a lot of oc brain rot i feel like i’ve been sitting on my oc content for years and i will slowly dump it all here but i am genuinely excited that y'all wanna hear about em. and yea i’m sticking with just far cry oc’s for now

I will also post a couple of fc6 oc templates soon if anyone wants to make their own <3 pls we can have an oc party

Obvi i got my main bro caleb from far cry 5, the link here explains him a hell of a lot more and he’s probably my most developed character cause i’ve worked on him since 2018 or whenever the game came out. but he’s basically my dep (and where i got my username from) so he’s your typical average white guy but he’s the gentle giant, tough but emotional kind of guy. I also have another oc who is his sister and she ends up as the captain in new dawn, i named her eleanor or ellie and they're the badass nelson siblings i guess.

Now i feel hella excited about my FC6 oc’s cause they’re new n fresh and i love em to bits >:))) but i’m still workin’ on all of them so they aren’t complete of course 

–

The first one is Manuel ‘Manny’ Suárez Landaverde and he’s an FND soldier who starts off as a medic because he loves helping people (and lowkey a victim of all of castillo’s propaganda) but he ends up getting promoted through the ranks to special forces as a sniper for his skills. I haven’t really decided if he will defect and it would be cool to make him a double agent or he turns completely to libertad or another faction of the resistance but I've mostly just been working on his personality.

He’s totally soft and shy as hell, definitely doesn’t socialise well with the other soldiers at parties (but i kinda wanna give him a grouchy fnd boyfriend too idk) and he’s got a very cosy apartment in esperanza before he moves into the special forces block in barrial. Think like lots of windows, house plants, some cool art from zenia and he definitely has a cat.

Manny is like the precious cinnamon roll meme but could kill you, he’s just over protective of those he loves but mostly he just wants to use his skills to save lives and mainly is stationed at outposts or accompanies special forces rather than actually being a full blown soldier.  But I don't have his backstory worked out yet or how to write him into the canon timeline.

–

The second is my weirdly specific but probably all time favourite Yulia Dmitrievna Mikhaylov. That’s her Russian name but once she immigrated to Yara, the Russian ‘Yulia’ became the latin ‘Julia’. She’s very much a historical character (because she’s born in 1882) because I wanted her to be like an old loving grandma by the time the first revolution came around in ‘67. I’m keeping it short and sweet here since I have like a whole ass essay on her in my drafts but she basically moves to Esperanza with her husband (think the whole soviet cuban missile crisis) because her husband is a military officer and she’s this badass spy.

Julia is like the stone cold old Russian lady who gets pissed at the FND if they bother her in town but she absolutely adores her family members to bits (and I'm currently working on her mother, father and husband who will mostly be based in Russia). 

She’s the product of two ideas basically; the first i wanted to have juan’s backstory (since ubisoft the bastards didn’t give us one) and i also wanted to have like a russian spy oc so i combined the two.

The reason why she’s gotta be old is not only to fit the historical time period of soviet influence in cuba and hence fictional yara but she ends up being a small 8 year old juan’s found family since that’s my favourite trope. I did a rough timeline of events and the closest age I can pinpoint Juan is around 73ish, like 1949 DOB.

This is important bc Julia’s husband passes away so she gets lonely and when she meets juan who’s still in an orphanage in esperanza by this point she takes him under his wing and reads him her husband’s old russian spy novels, comics, teaches him to read in russian and so on bc this is how i figured he’d get all his influence to later work for the KGB and go on to be the infamous spymaster and such.

Basically she teaches a smol juan to be an evil little shit (affectionate) and so i nicknamed her “grandma cortez” and if you read the hidden histories ‘The Cabinet of Dr.Medico - Issue #3’ which is one of Juan's comics. It's super heartfelt so she calls him “little Juanito” like the letter and it’s just core memories and found family for everyone.

I will post more about her cause i love her to bits but she’s basically juan’s badass spy grandma who's got a bunch of stories from her days and she’s partially her own cool character and my excuse to write juan’s backstory since ubisoft didn’t do it.

– 

And finally my latest oc actually doesn’t have a name yet but she’s an oluwa goddess and i’m basing her off the tirada treasures and lore, the supremo + weapons + outfit and oluso. 

i also haven't decided on a look yet, hence the two almost identical ones (i'm also conscious of trying to portray her in a way that doesn't feel overly sexual/exotic/mythical) whilst basing her look of oluso with the glowing eyes and all the symbols from the treasure hunts so she's very underdeveloped

I really want her to be like a myth in yara and an old legend so she’s gonna be thousands of years old. I have to credit @juskru for giving me such a cool idea to tie her in with the legends of 67 and specifically lucky

Her powers are definitely going to be of healing properties but she used to be much stronger. Before she could take life and death willingly and was kind of the lifeline to all living things in yara but she’s been weakened by wars and particularly when McKay Global started exploiting resources and land she can only heal wounds or injuries (and is very drained afterwards).

Even though she’s not as powerful, people still pray to her and the other Triada and I really like the idea that the Oluwa blessings are asking her to protect family members or to heal soldiers or guerrilla’s after a fight.

@juskru gave me the amazing idea to have her teach Lucky how to heal and give the basics of medicine and that’s why she’s the Legend’s top combat medic. That’s why I want to tie her story into the revolution of 67 and it reignites some of the Triada religion which the Castillo’s have historically tried to ban and suppress.

I definitely want to do more with her and the others but i’m far from finished with all of them :))))))) hope ya'll enjoy these as much as i enjoy hyperfixating lmao

[zhimaqiu]

I FOUND THIS IN DRAFTS WOA

yooo i has a nice dream that was fuelled with some mystery of my own family, but like... the mystery is not even that fascinating or great, we're just too lazy to open a some kind of a cellar in a place we inherited after my dead granduncle, we had a bunch of theories what might be here, but it's just the entrance can fall in every moment and we're kind scared to open it and my dad laughs he's afraid there might be a skeleton and it will be hard to get me away from it or maybe there will be a huge mountain of potatoes idk we make stupid theories what might be there because hoho ww2 backstory, my family + some partisans blew up a tank a few meters from the place, as i say, imagination go brr. but wHAT THE HECK MY BRAIN DID WITH IT IT'S JUST OKSJDJDJ

ok so idk how it started, but i was mainly following albedo, like i was him, you know. he was currently investigating something in stormterror lair with sucrose, when venti showed up at the same time with childe (but they weren't together) as did also an abyss herald. as you may imagine, childe was going for the herald and venti came to pass a message from diluc who found out about strange "ruins" on the other side of the ocean on an island filled with mountains and pine forests. someone went there to investigate they found out there are a few houses where some people live. for some reason mortals did not know about the land and venti lost memory about it. albedo listened to all the details. the only thing that venti remembered was as he was making a bridge to the land with rex lapis, because the inhabitants chose them for their patrons. only only them, but also vanessa. he didn't know why they chose them or why the bridge no longer exists, but albedo decided that he'll leave sucrose in mondstandt for a bit and go investigate alone with a little help of venti.

the moment they wanted to leave storm terror lair, childe ran up to them and said that he will gladly accompany them. albedo, sucrose and venti noticed a massacred body of the abyss herald. they didn't exactly know why he wanted to go, but albedo only sighed and allowed him to come.

the ruins turned out to be very similar architecturally to the ones in storm terror lair. it was shaped like a four-pointed star. Four very high and somewhere lacking of material, but still standing, towers made of rock, too thin to not fall, were opposing the gravity. bridges from them led to a greater tower with a locked entrance and a space for four swords. it turned out that every tower had a challenge to complete. they had to be completed in the right order though and it was hard to find the spots where the starting points were. it took them hours to finally open the door and while venti and childe were still running around the place, albedo entered through the door that opened. the place was creepy, cold, it felt like a laboratory of an evil genius or a place where human experiments were held. he felt the actual smell of rotting body, saw dirt on the walls that could possibly be blood, but the didn't see any corpses. the looked through the place, sensing an emotion he had forgotten a long time ago that just freezed his veins. But it was just a corridor. He entered the only room that was there and it turned out be a disgusting toilet, I won't go into details though I exactly remember this room. He couldn't understand why the place is so well protected if the only secret was this... unclean toilet. He touched the walls looking for some kind of a secret door, a button anything. Gods, he was so thankful that he was wearing gloves, because the whole place just seemed be a hatchery of diseases. Only when he touched a wall, Venti joined him, panicked as never. He said that the abyss herald somehow regained its strength, followed them and attacked Childe. He tried to fight it off, but there was no use go his abilities against the monster. Albedo rushed from the place and saw the abyss herald playing with covered in definitely his blood 11th of the Harbingers. It looked like he tried to use his delusion, but the herald tore it out of him. Albedo didn't think if it was wise to oppose the monster that could defeat Tartaglia and just ran down to help him. I won't describe you the fighting sequence, but "playing as Albedo" in the first person was lit. He eventually destroyed the herald and made sure its body was covered with earth so it wouldn't be reborn again. In the meanwhile, Venti took care of Childe. Then Albedo saw something on one of the towers. He asked Venti to create a wind current for him and went to investigate it. There was one more challenge left. He made through it, also learnt that the place was owned, by someone from his family and its possible that in the still inhabited houses there's a woman that is his distant relative. He was preparing a speech for her when something told him that what he seeks is not inside the building, but on a hill surrounding it.

A time skip later he found himself in front of something that looked like a place of a burial. It was glowing with a dangerous, purple light. As he walked closer towards it he felt a sudden rush of positive emotions. He started to laugh, simile, he couldn't really control it, but was happy about it. The grave showed something that could be his mother, crying that he finally unlocked his emotions or something like this. He listened about his family, why he's alone and why he may seem a bit emotionless. I don't remember what she said to him though. Venti joined him, he regained his memory about the place and just hugged Albedo as hard as he could.

They were just about to enter the place again when I woke up with a strong compulsion to go to the toilet ._.

You know, I can't say it's actually well structured, but it was very fun to experience as a dream, because there was no weird shit just some kind of a little detailed story

[deceits-left-glove]

[uh, may I say that the first time I wrote this it was July 30th 2020, because I know for a fact this is just going to sit in my drafts and rot there ;-;]

[ (8/09/2020) hi, presumably authors note here! Thanks to my weird habit of suddenly deciding to write something new and going until I'm falling asleep typing at 3am... I don't remember making this. At all. It kind of appeared in my drafts at one point and I'm just going to go with it. I also have no idea what it's supposed to be but I'm posting it how I found it cos I thought it was funny. You have been "warned". proceed.]

Core four feel guilty af so all try to mend their relationships with the dark sides independently of one another bc they don't know how the other three would react, anyway, the dork sides think they're doing it this way to not overwhelm them or something, (they have no idea that everyones trips have been "secret") but they figure that Virgil would want his headphones back sooner rather than later so they go up to give them back to him and Oop! everyone is in the same room and all four of them think "am I going to have to defend their asses in a second, oh god what if I get kicked out and go live down there with them and I never see these three again! What if that makes something bad happen to Thomas? Oh god oh fuck-" (mhm, even Patton. Having to pick between his famILY's warrants a "fuck" he thinks) and are waiting for the other shoe to drop, while Janus and Remus are just there like "yo, tf is going on why are y'all looking at each other like you're trying to figure out who the murderer is?"

Virgil gets Panic! ked because 'oh shit history is repeating itself has nothing actually changed, I thought we'd had some Growth™ -' and Roman sees this and thinks 'oh shit Virgils history with them is probably all flooding back to him rn, I gotta help him see that everything's gucci-' so he asks lemon and lime to back it up a lil bit. Logan sees this and thinks 'ah yes, how fitting that I have to (verbally) fight Roman about this. Welp, guess I'm loosing a friendship today. That sucks dick.' And (figuratively) ((maybe also literally too, idk)) jumps to the defence of the two and Janus sees this and is like "hold up, did non of y'all know you were all doing the same thing?" And Patton's like "HAHAHA- UM what thing??? Janus???? What????? do you mean??????" And Janus is like "well fuck, I guess you really do need my help with lying, damn. Anyway all of y'all have been coming to vibe w/ us over the last like month, I thought y'all had coordinated it tbh, but apparently not." And during all this Remus snuck a tentacle to Virgo for him to grab onto while he Panic! ing and Roman tried to poke it away at first bc he didn't want Virgil to freak out, but he actually made grabby hands for it so Roman was like 'oh, ight I guess that works' and took his other hand cos they want him to know that both sides of his family still vibe with him, no matter what.

Also Virgil happy cries a lot when he starts to go and chill with them BC he has Nostalgia and crying is a good thing sometimes.

Also also Raman cries a lot in the start too bc he's been having Even More dreams about them together as kids and waking up Extra Sad™ but now he gets to clown about w/ him again and yeah he has to wash his tunic thingy more thoroughly now bc there's almost always dirt or monster blood or slime or something on it but he'd rather wash a billion stains out of his clothes than stop having a good relationship with his brother again

Also also also Patton cries in the beginning BC he still blames himself for everything, so Janus and Remus explain to him that there's nothing that calls for blame to be placed on anyone. Yes Thomas might have been different if Creativity hadn't split, but that could go for worse as well as for better. He might not be able to help the people that he helps now. And also Roman and Remus wouldn't exist, and if he's honest, Remus prefers having someone to fight and bounce ideas off of and bully relentlessly, because Roman can do the same right back, and it's never boring. And that does make Patty feel at least a little better. For now.

Also also also also Logay doesn't really cry, but that makes sense. Not because he's emotion-less, but because the other three have strong emotional ties to the pair, he on the other hand, just has some choice words he could reprimand, so he rants. And rant he does. He rants about how sorry he is and the things he should have done differently. He rants about the others when they get a little too much (Remus likes these, especially when they're about Roman and he can join in) he rants about the sea and the stars and the wonders of the world (not the list, just cool things in general) he rants about philosophy (of course Janus loves these, there have been many debates and once REMUS had to brake up a nearly-fight... They've since avoided that particular philosopher.)

Also also also also also (I need to chill) it ends with a cuddle pile, that started out the same way cuddle piles used to go for the others. Janus, all six arms out, and Virgil curled up facing each other with Remus's front pushed against V's back, a good few more tentacles out and crawling all over the other two, then Roman squeezes his way in next to Virgil and Logan and Patton go to Janus and Remus's other sides (hehehe) perspectively. Logan puts his arm around Jan, and gets one back in return, while Parrot jumps on Remus's back, and his tentacles carry him over so he's laying across the rest of them and giggling. It's so much warmer and safer than any of them imagined it would be...

Logan does cry then, they all do. It makes sense, it's a very emotionally charged moment, for all of them.

It's perfect.

[evil-lloyd]

Found this old draft I wrote about my AU with my oc. Idk if I still like that oc or not but I thought it was pretty well written so I decided to share it with y’all. (Includes Oc/Lloyd ship)

Note: My oc was sealed away for 300 years in a magical dimension but time moves incredibly slowly there so she is roughly the same age as Lloyd. Also she tends to ask Zane questions on everything since he seems to know so much,and Zane is happy to help.

Also I don’t hate Kai by any means,he’s just protective over his lil bro and doesn’t want him to get hurt 💖

Also also idek remember most of the story of my character so

_________

“Lloyd.”

Lloyd doesn’t look up from his task,he continues to dry the dishes. Kai knows he hates dish duty,that really he’s doing it so he can avoid Kai without making it look obvious.

But he can’t hide from Kai. He knows him too well after all.

“Lloyd.” Kai tries again. “You can ignore me all you want,but we both know what’s happening. I may not be the best at maths or science,but I know a thing or two about love.”

Lloyd straightens his back. “I’m not ignoring you Kai. I’m just doing the dishes.” He says in with a false calmness to his voice. He must have got it from Zane Kai muses,after all something’s bound to rub off on him considering how long he’s spent around the ninja.

“Well can you pause your dish duty and talk to me?” He doesn’t point out how Lloyd skimmed over everything else. He didn’t deny anything either.

It’s worse than he thought.

“Fine.” Lloyd turns around and wipes his wet hands on the apron around his waist. “What exactly is the issue here?”

“The issue,” Kai starts “is that you’ve been spending more and more time with that... thing.” (Thing? Girl? Kai isn’t sure what it is regardless of its feminine appearance)

Lloyd crosses his arms. “First of all- it’s not a Thing. It’s a she. She’s a girl Kai,as human as I am. Secondly- Of course I’m spending time with her. I have a limited amount of time to convince her not to obliterate our world. Its world saving stuff.”

“Uh huh. World saving stuff? Well Mister World Saver,if you really are putting yourself under so much strain to convince her,then why don’t we try to find a way to defeat her in the meantime? Maybe you won’t have to convince her at all and we can just seal her away again.”

Something twitches in Lloyd’s faux cool expression. Anger he thinks.

“Why? So she can rot alone for another 300 years until some other guy comes along and frees her again. Except this time there’s no chance of reformation because last time she agreed to something of that nature she got betrayed and locked away?!” Lloyd’s voice raises on the last few words and they both pause to check out to the living area.

The team had decided to all play video games in the living area. Currently Jay and Cole we’re competing in some fighting game. The rest were situated on the couches,Nya cheering Jay on from the armrest beside him and Zane sitting on a nearby sofa next to the Girl. He’s explaining something to her in a hushed tone,both of them staring at the screen in front of them. The girl in question looks focused,nodding every once in a while. Pixal,who is sitting on the seat beside Zane seems to chime in every once in a while. Kai takes note of how Lloyd’s eyes linger on Her for a moment longer than the others and how they soften slightly before they return to look at him.

“Why are you being so cruel?” Lloyd hisses. Kai reels back.

“Cruel?” He hisses back. “Cruel?! I’m only trying to protect you from the heartbreak Lloyd because that-“ he gestures to where She sits “can��t love. Maybe it’ll say it does,to gain your trust long enough so it can carry out its plan-“

“What plan Kai?!” Lloyd looks pissed now. “If you didn’t realize it,she doesn’t need a plan to stop us. She could kill us all if she wanted to and you know it. You act as if I’ve never been blinded by love before,it was my heart harumi broke. Not yours.”

“How do you know that?Did you even try? Or did you just make some stupid deal like you could really convince something that’s literally made of darkness that the world isn’t that bad and it’ll just... oh I don’t know,agree?!”

“For the last time Kai. She’s not an It. She’s a she. She’s half human. She’s still a person with a history,with emotions and ideas and beliefs. You seem to forget that my father is the Evil Lord Garmadon. By your logic I guess I’m an ‘it’ too!”

Kai throws his hands up in the air. “That literally doesn’t make sense! Garmadon is not the same as literal Darkness! And that’s besides the point anyways,my point is-

“Save it Kai. Nothing you can say will change my mind. She deserves the right to experience the world. “ Lloyd looks to the side and sighs. “Just...give her a chance..please?”

Kai stares at him for a few seconds before looking back out into the living room. This could go horribly wrong. That thing could betray them all and destroy the world..but at the same time if Lloyd’s right and they seal her away again then..

Kai sighs. “Fine. But the moment I get even an inkling that things are going to go wrong I’m taking action. Got it?”

Lloyd smiles gently. Kai knows he hates arguing with anyone in the team. “Thanks Kai”

[cyberwavelit]

Gamer's Debt (Short Story)

"Crap, all I wanted was the gold chest so I can buy some extra lives. If I don't get any more extra lives, I'll lose all my gold when I die. How am I supposed to win if I have to pay for every damn thing?" Joden stepped down the ramp of his Blourgan cruiser and surveyed the alien landscape. It was barren except for the remains of a small village that he had just annihilated with a two-ton necro-missile.

"That's life. People are generally selfish, impatient, and insecure. Game companies use these weaknesses to motivate players. Maybe you shouldn't have blown up the village, is all I'm saying." The pilot of the cruiser, Jershamalama, spoke through his comm.

"But how does anyone get the hell out of this game if they can never win? I've been stuck in this hell hole for thirty days! My body’s back in the real world, rotting away.”

"Hey, you wanted to play, didn't you? Maybe if we travel to a non-npc sector we can trade off some of this junk we get every time we kill an enemy.” His pilot stared at him from the cockpit.

Joden looked back, “I feel like a slave. That garbage is only worth a pinto cent. It’ll take decades to get to the end game. And besides, that's if we can take off with all that junk. It'll take us a few hours to get back into the atmosphere. It's like a Fetch-22."

"You mean a fetch quest?"

"Yeah, something like that." said Joden taking out his cent-o-meter. It consumed his health bar as it scanned the surrounding sector. His eyes darted around his visor interface, looking at all the blips and bubbles that pinged. “I wish I could afford the Super Hyper Gold Jetpack that all the booster players use.”

“They only release that on the first Wednesday of every other month with a sign-on fee, an option to buy stocks in EternaEntertinament, a monthly fee, a mental evaluation, and maintenance fees when your able to grab it from one of the random places it spawns, like the Hell planet Infernum or the planet Madness Descent. Plus, I hear they only give you like a 3 second jump.”

“What?!” He nearly tripped over a crumpled alien body. “You can’t be serious. My mom’s going to kill me. I told her I was going to school. I figured I could just sign up for a few games, try my hand at Galactic Teamslayer, and be back at the rent-a-plex by nine. That was a month ago!”

“Relax. They won’t even notice you’re gone. Most parents have been sucked into this new thing called Binge Child Raising. EternaEntertinament created it too. It’s a simulation where adults can raise children and not have them become reclusive, angst-ridden failures. They’re really gouging everyone for money, real and fake, young and old.”

Joden was too focused on the horizon where a few blips were going off. They were purple, which meant that they were low-value targets. Everything seemed to be purple. “I never asked--how long you been here?”

“You shoulda seen it when it was it first came out. The servers would never load and you had to sit there, in the darkness, watching a timer run out as they patched their simulation. It was like holding your breath under water.” The pilot sucked his teeth. “Hang on a sec. Have to rate the game again—after this ad.”

“Yeah, I hate doing this every hour.” The astronaut picked up a child’s toy from the clutched hand of a sloblarian. “Wonder what this is worth. I heard that we used to play with things like this, not just video games where you pay to win. Up, hang on a sec, got an ad playing.”

Joden’s reality changed. He was sitting on a park bench. A duck came up to him, honking and pulling at his pants. The countdown to the end of the ad appeared in his peripheral. It quaked and quaked until Joden threw down a few coins to skip it.

Back in game world he was still holding the toy. He threw it down with distain and a lack of remembrance for such physical trifles.

He was then asked to rate the game. He voted as he always had, giving it a one-star out of three. There was a chime and a message: “We’re sorry you’re not enjoying your time in our game world. Perhaps if you were more openminded and understanding of the fact that you may not always get what you want, you might have a better experience with our merchandise. Please lower your expectations. Thank you.”

Joden coughed to drown out the message he had heard a hundred times. “I’m so tired of game companies stealing from us. Don’t they realize that it’ll only make the game suffer?”

“Yeah,” responded the pilot, “let’s go steal something.”

“I’m so tired, Jersh. I just want to go somewhere where we can kill an alien race and grind their bones into dust. What’s so wrong with that?”

“If you only knew, kid. On its launch the game world wasn’t even finished. Eterna used the gamers to construct most of the planets using the build-and-play incentive. Those gamers signed a contract that said that they had to make at least four hundred ‘products’ before they could actually the game. They called it the ‘fix-it-later’ release. The products they were referring to was one galaxy. Those designer gamers are probably still waiting…”

“Four hund--?” Joden held up his fist to the pilot, who had been watching from the ship’s windshield. “That’s extortion!”

“Welcome to the world. They get away with it because it’s a game world. You can do anything in the game world like gambling, murder, blackmail, forced labor, and forced sodomy. Nothing’s real so nothing matters.”

The astronaut had disembarked about five hundred meters from the ship. Steam bellowed from its worn exhaust. “Why did you call me kid? How old are you? I mean I know you have the same avatar as me…”

“Age doesn’t matter either. Yeah, I couldn’t afford the customizations either.” Jersh tapped his helmet. “So, I guess we both have the same face.”

“And same weapons, gear, armor, boots, ships, weapon skins, and abilities.” He noticed a large oval blob on his visor’s HUD. It was moving closer behind a small series of stone pillars.

“Oh no, I have the blue-skinned Rigormortis rifle. It’s got this badass blue stripe on the side. Cost me 20,000 gold, 200 platinum, and 4 of my lifesaving’s accounts. If I didn’t have this stripe, I’d probably go insane or worse, color blind.”

“Shut up, dude. Something’s coming. I think it’s a surviving sloblarian. I hear they get angro really quick. I don’t want to die here, man. I never bought a 600-gold resurrection pack. It’ll take sixty days to load back in…”

Jersh responded, sounding distracted, “You’re fine. Just cap it in the head or something.”

The purple blob was twenty meters away. If it wanted to attack it would have to come out into the open and charge him. He could tell there was movement but it was more restless than threatening. Joden took out his rifle and fired at the rock tower. The gun exploded in his hands, sending his obliterated fingers in multiple directions.

“Ah damnit! I forgot about the maintenance fee!”

The figure bounded from the pillar and slunk slowly towards the enemy astronaut. It skulked across the yellow, Phallusian sand with its omni-dexterous flippers. Arriving to the hunched-over human its tugged at his spacesuit and motioned for him to come closer.

“Gross dude, it wants to talk to me. What should I do?” The rounded head bobbed up and down like a rubbery ball. It seemed to be injured or at least miserable.

Joden heard distinct crunching noises emanating from the pilot’s mouth. “IDK. Step on it I guess.”

The polymorphous blob at his feet opened its crevice-like mouth and appeared to gasp for air. But it wasn’t gasping. It was whispering. He leaned down and listened.

“Dunk…prrray…Donk pppreeeey.” It was saying, and gargled as its lips flapped. “Doooonnk plllaaaaay. Chooose nut to pprraaaaay. Fyind sumting essl to do wilth yourg tyhme.”

“Oh, hell no!” shouted the man, as he squashed the creature’s face with his boot. It was like stepping on a water balloon filled with pebbles. He looked at where his hands used to be and screamed into the sky. “What does it all mean? Why do I always have to be punished! I’ve been in the same place for too long!”

"It's not good to live in a dream.” More crunching came from the ship. “You sometimes forget what life is like."

Virtual blood splashed onto the dry dirt from his nubs. A few splatters mixed with the alien’s internal fluids. The reflective pool at his feet showed his avatar’s face, the same face of his pilots. He searched rapidly for any signs of wealth or material possession. There was nothing but ooze and viscera. Tattered cloth around the dead alien’s head was smushed and torn.  

He turned toward the ship with a look of bewilderment. “How many gamers are trapped here? We can’t be the only ones. This game isn’t anything like what they advertised. They lied to us! Who would want to be stuck in this perpetual nightmare of pay-to-play, pay-to-build, pay-to-live, pay-to-pay mechanics?”

“I don’t think you get it.” The pilot was still eating. “Companies do this to consumers because consumers let them. The general belief is that consumers are very smart but when’s the last time you heard someone say: ‘I won’t buy that because it goes against my code of ethics?’ None, no one’s ever said that. People like spending money. It’s in our blood. Its our nature to trust rich people. They seem to have all the right answers even when they don’t. They make the truths that we all follow. Besides, how could they get all that money if they had bad intentions.”

Joden used his character’s remaining strength to rush back towards the Blourgan cruiser. He felt a draft of air coming in the direction of the ship, and heard the engine roaring to life. “What the hell are you doing?”

The mercenary vessel hovered three feet off the ground and its nose pointed at the runner. Its pilot could be seen through the windshield, “Sorry newb, you’re becoming to be a real downer.”

“I thought you were my friend!” he whimpered, his nubs heaving back and forth.

The ship elevated to ten feet. “None of us are really friends. We’re all just trying to make a living. And I need one more kill for the Slayer Award. We’re all just numbers.”

As he came to the plateau where he had disembarked, he held up his invisible hands to shield his face. “I just want to go home! I just want to go home.”

A cybersonic laser beam burst from the cruiser’s forward cannons. He felt the hot bathing light of the beam and then felt nothing at all.

“I can’t get out…I can’t…” He awoke in darkness. A screen appeared that read the same message he received hundreds of times, “You have died. Looks like you have low gear and feeble weapons. Would you like to buy a booster pack?”

“No.” he responded.

“A looter box?”

“No!”

He said the same words over and over before. The message continued, “You have elected to refuse game-provided assistance. This is a poor decision. In order to continue gameplay without using game-provided assistance please insert thirty-seven-point-one resurrection tokens.”

He wanted to cry but said, “I don’t have any.”

The automated voice paused and spoke again after popping up a sixty-page form. “Well that sucks. In order to continue please complete the loan agreement in front of you. The loan is for $6,000. Sign here, here, and here.”

Joden lowered his shoulders and looked at his current debt. It read: “-387,000.” He breathed out, collapsing his chest, and grew red-faced. “No!” he shouted.  

There was another pause and the form disappeared. For several moments there was darkness and silence. “Very well.” The automated voice returned. “You have chosen reincarnation. Goodbye.”

“No!” he screamed defiantly. “No!”

Then, all of a sudden, he felt strange. He looked out through oddly-colored eyes. His hands had returned but they had three fingers instead of five. When he tried to speak, he could only gasp through what felt like a straw. The sand that he walked on grew hardened in his webbed feet. An alien girl danced toward him, carrying a toy. She hugged him with pencil-thin arms and turned towards the sky. Tattered robes fell along his arm and he patted the girl’s head. He looked up, to where the girl was gazing and saw a massive fireball break through the atmosphere. A necro-missile came out of the fiery plume, heading straight for their small, stony village. 

[fkjeon]

ignite the flames within me | i

○ pairing: yoongi | reader ○ genre: angst + fluff ○ words: 6,373 ○ warnings: none

⊱ a/n: HAPPY SUGA DAY! i had this in my drafts forever, and luckily it’s ben sitting at a few thousand words lmao. i really hope this is/was worth the wait. honestly, i had no plan with this, so it’s really not that story-line based. idk, i’m really trying to hone my writing skills, and i know i need to practice regularly. but nonetheless, pls enjoy this mess of work! and yes, part two shall be coming, idk when tho. any feedback is highly appreciated!

The ivory keys lay untouched, collecting dust overtime.

A passion left to waste; the zeal, once at its peak, now tucked away behind tired eyes and an aching heart. Min Yoongi had always loved the piano. The melodious notes that could be poured out from the slightest of movements, the sheer emotion that one would be able to express through the keys, the pace that one would set, whether it be light and cheery, or dark and dramatic.

There was so much to love about this immaculate instrument, yet his interest would slowly deplete, leaving the pallid clavier to rot through the scorching heat, and feisty winds. His love for music would not be ignited, yet he felt some sort of longing to, once again, be in tune and be able to show himself and his identity through every note played.

The wintry winds flew through the air, slapping him across the face with icy despair, as he walked through the quiet streets. The past few days had been extra bleak, matching the detachment that Yoongi had been feeling for the longest time. He really did not know what he wanted to do; walking around seemed like a good enough distraction at the time, but what he didn’t know was that he would be left with the roaming thoughts that he had tried so hard to control.

The sun had been hidden behind the murky clouds; his hands in his pockets, as he walked into the dimly lit coffee shop that he had taken a quick liking to over the past few weeks. The cashier would nod at his presence, giving him a questioning look that read, 'the usual?’, to which he acknowledged with the slight dip of his head. Yoongi had always liked his coffee quite strong; bitter, in fact.

Sitting at the far corner of the store, Yoongi was left alone with the rapid current of his thoughts that seemed to overwhelm him quite quickly.

‘Failure.’

‘Good-for-nothing musician.’

‘Wow, my three-year-old daughter could compose much better than this.’

He scoffed at himself, sifting through the large pile of insults that he had come to terms with a long time ago. He found himself smirking at the best ones.

‘Are you sure you can even play the piano? It seems as if you just bash the keys repeatedly.’

‘This is worse than when they called that damn shade of blue art!’

The waiter seemed to notice his distress, adding a little croissant on the side on his order.

“On the house,” the waiter assured him with a small smile. He returned the gesture, but the grin didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Yoongi had always hated sweet treats.

☇

It was no particular Thursday morning.

The sun shone through the sheer material of his curtains, reminding him of another day that he dreaded to see. There was a sort of sickly heat that hung in the air around him, making the fabric of his clothes stick uncomfortably to his skin. Beads of sweat had already begun to form and he grimaced at the sudden light that had found its way right onto his closed eyes.

Deeply sighing, he pulled himself up, throwing the white covers onto one side, and walked over to the window. Even with the heat, there was still a sliver of a breeze present, kissing his wet skin with the slightest of a touch. He stared through the glass, eyeing the zooming cars and the people who seemed to be chattering away.

Still feeling empty, he forced the window pane down, shutting out the heat that seemed to quickly overwhelm his room before retreating into the bathroom and getting ready. He wasn’t even sure why he was getting ready, as no occasion called for it. However, he didn’t want to feel as if he were that useless.

Pulling his cap closer to his eyes, Yoongi strolled along the concrete path, keeping his head low. It wasn’t as if someone was going to recognise him from his musician days. After all, it had been much too long since he last sat on the stool and played his heart out. He sauntered to the park, sitting at a bench that no one occupied. These days, Yoongi had nothing better to do than to mope around.

It was funny how fate could change someone’s life within seconds. Here Yoongi was, sitting on a park bench, hands in pockets and earphones in. He hadn’t noticed the girl who spotted him from across the path, immediately recognising his facial features from watching his performances, one too many times.

☇

You had just finished your morning class, which meant that you had the rest of the day to yourself. Not knowing what to do or where to take yourself, you decided on having a little walk within the small park that was located just outside your apartment block.

You had always loved the park; the playground that seemed as if it was always occupied, the couples that would wander through — holding hands and sweet smiles, those motivated individuals who always seemed to be able to go on a run, no matter what day it was.

Holding your still-cold bottle of ice tea, you walked through, examining the bright green leaves that flourished from the beating sun. You noticed the daisies and canopies that littered the ground bought a spark of colour from the already dried-up grass.

As you were walking along, you had passed the man that was seated on the bench, yet from the corner of your eye, you swore his presence deemed extremely familiar to you. Upon closer inspection, you had realised that it was your all-time favourite musician, one that hadn’t been active recently. Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach as your legs froze. You failed to conjure up any thoughts, as your mind was numb with nervousness.

You were conflicted — should you approach him, or should you just walk away?

Min Yoongi had always been your favourite musician, ever since you heard a sliver of his beautiful composition that he had played at a festival. You could tell that he poured all of his emotions into each note, and that just made you adore him even more. You had strived to become like him; cool, composed, all the uneasiness melting away as you struck each chord, head swaying along to the beautiful rhythm that you had created.

You heart swelled as you saw his form, arms outstretched, as if embracing the fierce heat that surrounded the two of you, yet you were much too jittery to notice that your drink had already become much too warm for your personal liking.

You cursed under your breath and decided to just, ‘fuck it,’ taking long, yet hesitant, steps towards the man who you thought was sleeping at first. Your heart rate had picked up dramatically, the wave of confidence that you had just experienced, deteriorating much too quickly and you found your steps faltering the closer you had got. By the time you were a few inches away, you had begun to second-guess yourself — asking yourself too many questions that could not be answered within the span of a few seconds. The few seconds in which Yoongi had noticed the shadow over his head, and got up to face the current stranger that seemed to look much too confused.

You hadn’t noticed the boy staring up at you, until the false confidence that you wore as a mask decided to show up again. However, it all came crashing down as soon as you noticed Yoongi’s lingering eyes. Your cheeks blazed with the burning crimson and you could barely meet his gaze.

“Um… I— I ju—,”

The lack of words on your end made it even more embarrassing for yourself. Here you were, walking through the park that you passed almost daily, and somehow fate decided to place your absolute favourite musician here, right in front of your very eyes. Though, you weren’t able to get a single word out. They were there, you were sure of it, but the phrases that you choke out, were clogged within your throat — the lack of tenacity not helping.

“May I help you?”

And his voice was as smooth as you had imagined. Deep and velvety, the words ringing through your ears, repeating itself on a constant loop, as your mouth gaped open to stare at him. You felt as if his piercing eyes could see right through you, read your every thought and movement, yet you felt oddly comfortable. Opening your mouth a few times, you took a deep breath to compose yourself and challenged his stare with one of your own.

“Y— You’re Min Yoongi right? The famous pianist?”

You could see his face drop considerably, and you were taken aback by his sudden change of emotion. No longer was the shooting gaze, instead being replaced with the diversion of his eyes. The silence that grew between the two of you had become much too awkward, and you found yourself fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“I— Um… I just wanted to say how much I really love your compositions. You’re actually one of my favourite musicians—,”

“Don’t call me that.”

His tone had changed to one of bubbling anger, the pent-up frustration from years of harsh criticism had all unravelled itself unknowingly.

“I— I’m sorry, I didn—,”

“I’m not a damn musician. I know that, everyone knows that, so I don’t need someone like you telling me something that isn’t true. What? Is it because you want an autograph or something?”

The sudden temper, that had somehow been triggered from your apparently unwise choice of words, had you taking a step back. You had never meant to offend him, and the literal praise that you had sent his way, was meant to make him smile, meant to make him bashfully look away, meant to make him stare at you with glee. So why was he now yelling with such an outrage that you had to move away in order to get him to calm down?

You frowned, eyebrows furrowing from his constant rambles of how he 'wishes he never got into music’ and how much he 'hates the damn piano’. It saddened you immensely to see someone who was so in touch with their creative and musically active side, to throw it all away, all because the criticism got too much.

You would never fully understand Yoongi, an amateur like yourself could never garner the amount of attention he would get whenever he played one of his compositions. So you could only stare at him, guilt and pity brimming along the surface of your lungs, as he slumped onto the bench in defeat.

A part of you wanted to walk away, tear down his posters and throw away the records that you had collected over the years, but you knew that the regret would be too much for you to handle. Instead, you faced him and bowed, apologising for stirring up unnecessary emotions. He looked at you with tired eyes from a slouched position. You couldn’t read him, there was no sense of anger within his eyes, instead, a sheer nothingness had glazed over his eyes, giving off indifference. It seemed as if he was used to giving off this expression to countless people.

☇

The rest of the day turned out to be dreadful. After the awful encounter with Min Yoongi, you were welcomed home with the mess of your house that you had just left because of the frantic morning that you had. Amidst your worries, your luck had blessed with a broken fridge and a mountain of food that had to either be eaten or thrown away. You couldn’t be more frustrated.

You decided to call up one of your close friends to see whether or not he would have liked to join you on your lovely adventures. Dialling his number, you held the phone to your ear and prayed that he would pick up.

“Hello?”

“Oh my god, I was hoping you’d pick up.”

“What’s up? Why do you sound so worried?”

And that was how you ended up with Seokjin on your couch, practically devouring all of the leftover foods that you weren’t able to stomach. Seokjin had been one of your closest friends for the longest time; he was always there in your times of need, offering advice or just ‘blessing you with my presence’, as he liked to call it. The two of you were a funny pair — the complete opposites that somehow managed to fit perfectly like two puzzle pieces.

Seeing how you were moping around, rather than engaging in the random jokes and weird topics that Seokjin and yourself liked to engross yourselves in, he began to interrogate you until you caved.

“Come on Y/N, I know something’s wrong, don’t even try,”

“Nothing! I just had a bad day,”

“I’m not a boyfriend where you can just pretend that everything’s okay and then get mad when they brush it off,”

You laughed at his stupid comment, “Okay, okay. You got me there. I just— I bumped into Min Yoongi—”

“Wait, Min Yoongi? As in the guy in your bedroom and the one you talk about like every single minute of your life like he’s the love of your life or something?”

You sighed, reminiscing over past conversations that you had with Seokjin that featured Min Yoongi.

“Yes Seokjin, that guy. Anyway, I bumped into him, and I told him how great his compositions are and that he’s a great musician and, I don’t know, he was kind of standoff-ish? Like, I wouldn’t call it rude, more so like, confrontational? I don’t know, it was nothing,”

“So what you’re saying is that he basically brushed you off and acted all high and mighty? I swear, if I ever see this guy, I’m going to show hi—”

You flicked Seokjin’s forehead, glaring at him with your piercing stare, as if to warn him in case he did anything stupid.

“No! It was nothing, I only liked him for his music anyway,” but it seemed as if you were trying to convince yourself, rather than convince Seokjin.

The rest of the day was more relaxed; the two of you preoccupied with random games and aimless puns that had you clutching your stomach in laughter. Seokjin always knew how to brighten up a dull atmosphere, and today was no different. He allowed you to forget about the horrid experience you had had with your role model, and had distracted you enough to keep you from dwelling upon the events that had occurred previously.

It was laughable really — you meeting your idol, and it turns out that he’s a dick. A complete opposite to the way his slim fingers would play each note, his mouth parted from concentration, and if you looked close enough, you could see his eyebrows furrowing, as the composition became deeper, more emotional.

The fact that you had invested so much of your time on someone who could easily act as if you didn’t even exist, baffled you. It made you realise how different people could be, and that made you sad— no, disappointed. You weren’t disappointed in Yoongi, there was no way you could have seen his true colours from the endless performances that you had watched over and over again in the confines of your bedroom walls.

No.

You were disappointed in yourself for assuming that you knew him well enough. You were disappointed in yourself because you had romanticised his performances in such a way, that you allowed your eyes to be blinded by the notes that he played. You were disappointed because you had fabricated him to be someone who you thought, not who he actually was.

After Seokjin had left, the silence hit you like a breeze on a cold day. It was unexpected, and took you by surprise, but as you walked into your bedroom, you could feel the chills beginning to rise upon your exposed skin as you looked around, your gaze landing on the numerous posters that littered your beige walls.

You could only smile bitterly at the fond memories that you had made — lying upon your bed, as you streamed performances instead of working on that essay that was due in a week’s time. It was ambivalent; it felt as if you had just broken up with your boyfriend, but you weren’t too sure what you were currently feeling.

Was it regret? Sadness? Anger?

☇

Ever since Yoongi had encountered you, he couldn’t stop thinking about the word that you had used.

‘Musician.’

There was nothing appealing about that word. Min Yoongi was not a musician — not anymore. He could not fathom the word, why people would choose to call him that, despite retiring from the music scene entirely. It wasn’t as if people liked his music anyway. There was too much criticism, and despite putting up a strong front, in the end, it all got to him.

However, he couldn’t help, but feel a little guilty. Guilty because he was too hostile. You were just someone who approached him, a stranger, yet the way he shut you down, as if you were one of them, made him feel bad. It just hit him a little too strongly because it had been such a long time since someone had come up to Yoongi to tell him something positive, to support him, and to tell him that they actually liked and enjoyed the music that he had written himself.

He sighed deeply as he lay atop the ruffled bedsheets that he had no intention of making. Yoongi’s mind was running at full speed, drilling through thoughts that he had no plan of dwelling upon.

As he sat up, his eyes fell on the glazed wood of the grand piano, shining radiantly because of the sun. He would be lying to himself if he said that he hadn’t thought of, once again, performing upon a stage — whether it be five or five hundred people watching. It was a thought he rarely had, and whenever he did, Yoongi would shut it out as quickly as possible; the urges disappearing, as he continued on with his daily life.

The world had gone quiet, the only sounds audible were the occasional chirps of the birds that had nested upon the tree outside his window, and the zooms of car that would drive past. The apartment he stood in was suffocating, and Yoongi felt that if he didn’t get out, he would choke on the poison that were his thoughts.

So that’s what he did. Yoongi threw on his shoes, and decided to escape reality for a while.

At this time of the day, the bar was usually empty, except for the sporadic day drinker that would lurk within the darkness of the venue. Flinging the door open, he was surprised to find a number of people sitting in the booths at the back of the room. As soon as he walked inside, he was greeted with the wafting stench of alcohol, something that he still hadn’t gotten used to.

“Yoongi! It’s been a while since you’ve been here,” the man that stood behind the bar exclaimed. He had blond hair that lay messily atop his forehead and a smile that could brighten this dimly lit room. The man was busy pouring drinks to already-drunk customers rambling and slurring about something that had gone wrong in their life.

“Hey Hoseok. Just needed to get away for a bit,” Yoongi replied, strolling over to one of the free stools before taking a seat, “thinking a lot.”

Hoseok understood. After all, he had been close friends with Yoongi ever since he had begun his music career. Being a prime supporter helped Yoongi stay on track, but even then, it all became too much and he decided to cut ties.

“The usual?”

A nod was all that was needed to get Hoseok working. A concoction of various alcoholic beverages had been mixed and placed in a small shot glass for Yoongi to down, and he did, feeling the satisfactory burn as the liquor passed through his throat, only to sit heavy within his stomach. It had been a while since Yoongi had drank, so after a couple shots, he was already feeling light-headed, and his words had begun to slur, much like those who were sitting close to him.

“A— And she came up to me,” Yoongi pushed back his hair, only to have it fall over his eyes again, “and I b— basically… Basically, I told her something like, what was it again? Oh! It was like, ‘fuck off’ or something.” Hoseok just stood, listening intently as he filled up glasses to his customers’ request.

He could only console Yoongi through his actions, as he was rambling for far too long. The amount of secrets that he had spilled surprised Hoseok, as this was a side of Yoongi that no one had ever saw before. Hoseok pitied him, feeling empathetic for his friend who had dealt with so much for far too long. He thought that Yoongi would be happier now, especially since the comments had long gone away the moment he stepped away from the keys that seemed to haunt him.

However, that was not the case. Yoongi had never been more depressed — living his day-to-day life in absolute misery, hoping for something, or maybe even someone, to come and change that. Yet, Yoongi was notorious for pushing people away and letting them leave his side had never been easier until very recently. He was sad; angry at himself, but found excuses to put the blame on other people.

Whilst in the middle of a sentence, Yoongi halted, quietening down, before breaking into a fit of tears. His head lay upon the countertop, while he sobbed, letting the tears cascade and form into a puddle beneath him.

☇

It had been a few days since your encounter with Yoongi.

A part of you hoped that you would be able to bump into him, to see him once more, and apologise for offending him; for assuming something that you shouldn’t have. Yet, another part of you was glad that you may never have to see Yoongi again. You didn’t want to have to deal with the repercussions of meeting him again, of having to embarrass yourself once more, just to make sure that he didn’t think of you with such a negative stigma.

You let out a breath, closing your eyes for a mere second, before throwing your head back in frustration. You needed to apologise, the guilt slowly eating away at you, even though you knew that you had done nothing wrong. Quickly throwing on your sneakers, you made your way out, praying that fate would be able to lead you to him.

You roamed through the same park where you had first found him. As you passed by the bench, the feeling of defeat was beginning to crawl its way into your mind, but you pushed it aside and carried on, thinking long and hard about where you might be able to find him. Searching near and far, you were just about to give up when you saw a very familiar figure stumbling out of a bar up ahead.

Your mind was blank for a few seconds, but upon realisation, your legs began to pick up their pace and without thinking, you started to run towards him. There was something that had compelled you to stop him before he left; before he disappeared back into the darkness, never to be heard from again. The thought scared you, so you were not going to let him go again, not before you apologised, that is.

“Y— Yoongi?” His name had been caught up in your throat, and you made a pathetic attempt to speak to him, you voice coming out wavering and full of nervousness.

“You again?” he was slurring, and it made you uncomfortable, “What do you w— want?”

You took in a breath, but just as you were about to speak, you could see Yoongi on the verge of stumbling upon the car-ridden street — an accident waiting to happen. Instinctively, you caught him before he could fall, but the look of offense and disgust made you quickly retract your arms, clearing your throat, as you remembered the reason as to why you were here.

“I— Um… I just wanted to apologise for the other day, you know. Offending you and all. I didn’t mean it, I just wanted to thank you for your music and how it changed my life and everything—,” you were beginning to ramble, something you did a lot whenever you were feeling burdened. You had to consciously stop yourself, but as your eyes fell upon Yoongi, you couldn’t help the sense of hopelessness that had surrounded his figure.

You pitied Yoongi. For too long had he hidden between the shadows, hiding wads of regrets and anger towards himself. He had secluded himself, letting himself become unknown to the horrid world that he was living in. There was so much sadness, so much anguish hidden between the specks of chocolate within his eyes. You could see — could feel the aura of bleakness and hatred he had for himself, and you pitied him. You wished you could take some of it away.

“I’m sorry too.”

The words took you by surprise. You were not expecting any sort of response, let alone an apology. Looking up, you noticed that his eyes were glued to the concrete that lay beneath the both of you.

“I’m sorry for being a complete fuck-up. You just wanted to say thank you and there I was, shutting you down because I was scared. I was scared that the comments would come back. I just wanted to run away from it all, and I thought that by losing everyone who I cared for, and everyone who cared for me, it would fix everything. But I was wrong. I just— Fuck, I was so damn wrong.”

The tears, that Yoongi had tried so hard to keep in, fell immediately, marking the grey concrete below. He couldn’t look up; much too embarrassed to face the stranger that he had wronged. So he kept his eyes on the ground, and tried to blink away the tears, but to no avail.

You didn’t even notice that your eyes had started to well up. It was as if you could almost touch the sincerity that he was pouring out of the depths of his hidden heart. With hesitation, you reached out and placed your hand on his shoulder. He didn’t back away or flinch, instead, welcoming your arm, and the radiating comfort that you expelled.

After a few minutes, the crying stopped and Yoongi quickly wiped away the last of the droplets that seemed to be caught within his eyelashes. He smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and you could only stare at him with such a pain etched into your eyes. You were in such a pain because of the way he smiled, the way he was able to change his expression, as if he was so used to it.

Yoongi turned on his heel, albeit a little carelessly, and was about to walk away, when you spoke up.

“Thank you,” you murmured, “for everything.”

☇

The next couple of weeks had you brooding. You had replayed the second encounter with Yoongi, vividly remembering the exact words that he had relayed to you, and the evident heartbreak in his tone of voice. You hadn’t been able to focus properly, instead, your thoughts were overwhelmed with such disarray that you had found yourself to be completely distracted from all aspects of your life.

You weren’t too sure why it had affected you so much. Yoongi didn’t even know your name; you were a complete stranger to him, so why did you feel obligated to help him? You were a mere fan, but you had never felt more connected to him.

You knew you were going to regret your decision, but you were so determined that you didn’t even pay any attention to the part of you that was against your idea. So you made your way back to the park bench — to the first time you had ever met Min Yoongi.

The streets were quiet, a sharp contrast to the usually loud roads filled with zooming cars and loud chatter. Instead, the wind blew through you, sending chills down your spine, as you strolled to the exact location that you had avoided all of this time.

The sun was still high, hidden by a sheet of clouds that covered the hues of blue, instead painting it with strokes of grey, a murky comparison. As soon as the park was in your sight, a feeling of hope had enlightened your senses. You found yourself to be walking faster and faster, until the bench came into sight, and your entire body slouched in defeat. The sense of hope that had been running through your veins had halted; escaping your body entirely, as you approached the bench with such sadness.

Sitting upon the wooden planks, you placed your hands in your lap, fidgeting and playing with your fingers. As soon as you saw the empty bench, your heart dropped and you had just wanted to turn around and walk back home, but you had convinced yourself to stay, just in case Yoongi would walk by.

It was a sliver of a small chance, but you were willing to take it. You were willing to wait here every single day, just to be able to see Yoongi genuinely smile and now dwell upon the negativity that he had been placed right in the middle of.

After hearing his confessions, you had just wanted to ensure that Yoongi was feeling okay, and that he was able to pick himself back up, especially after looking so rough when he had come out of the bar. You were concerned, even though you were in no place to be. Still conflicted, you looked around, but there was no sight of him. Giving up, you stood and stretched your legs before making it back home. You were determined to see him once more.

☇

The next few days had you going back to the same bench, only to be met with the company of the dancing tree that stood grand behind you.

Yoongi had noticed you from his apartment window; the view clear of any obstacles. He felt guilty upon seeing your form sitting upon the bench, but Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to come down. There was something that kept him from facing you again. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the sudden spillage of emotion that he had shown to you, or if it was because he was just too embarrassed to see you. After all, he didn’t even know your name.

Drawing the curtains back, Yoongi sat upon the cushion; his head in his hands as he thought about what he could possibly do. He didn’t want to get too close, didn’t want to hurt your feelings, didn’t want you to continue whatever it was you were currently doing. Yoongi just wanted to be alone, to live his life in the shadows instead of having someone by his side.

It was better off that way.

And so, Yoongi would stare at your seated form, your fleeting eyes, and your still hands that would sit quietly upon your lap, wondering if keeping away and letting you forget about him was the best idea. Yet, he didn’t notice the fiery determination that had begun flickering within your eyes. There was no way you were going to give up, not after seeing Yoongi so helpless. Instead of the burning passion you had come so used to seeing, you were met with despair, forlorn and powerlessness.

You knew he knew.

You knew that he was able to see you, and that he could come down at any moment that he pleased. You knew that he was waiting for you to leave, but you weren’t going to give up. Not today, not any other day. Yoongi had another thing coming.

After sitting upon the wooden planks for what felt like centuries, you recalled the past encounter that you had had with Yoongi at the bar. That area of your city was somewhere that you weren’t necessarily familiar with, but had travelled to on specific occasions. The walk was moderate, allowing you enough time to familiarise yourself with the current surroundings that stood before you. It also gave you enough time to plan your course of action if you were indeed to “stumble upon” Yoongi once more.

Having walked for what seemed like kilometres, you finally reached the section of the city that you had found Yoongi in. Unconsciously, your steps had begun to quicken in pace and your heart was beating an unusual, frantic speed. You stopped right in front of the bar that Yoongi had collapsed out of; your breath jagged from the hurried momentum that you had undertaken. Calm, yet nervous, you composed yourself before walking inside, only to be hit with the strong odour of cigarettes and alcohol.

Ignoring the way your nostrils burned, you looked around — eyeing each individual that either stood near or sat upon a booth within the small room. You must’ve looked extremely lost because before you know it, you’re sitting upon one of the stools and having a relaxed conversation with the bartender, whom you had no idea knew Yoongi.

“You alright there, Miss? Looking a little bit lost, if I say so myself,”

You could only smile and nod politely, continuously looking around and clenching your fists in anticipation.

“My name’s Hoseok. I own this bar, and from the looks of it, you seem to be looking or waiting for someone. Got a name or anything? I know all the regulars that frequent this beauty!” Hoseok opened his arms wide, swirling, as if to bask in the building’s beauty. It made your heart swell because of his passion and genuine happiness that he seemed to experience.

You bit the bottom on your lip, wondering whether telling this stranger the name of a man you were so desperate to locate. At this point, you would appreciate any help given by any person, so you shrugged your shoulders, ‘why the hell not?’

“Y— Yeah actually. Yoongi, Min Yoongi? He’s just someone I know,”

Hoseok’s eyes seemed to widen at the mention of his name, and you quirked a brow, “You know him? I mean of course you do, he’s a pretty famous musician and all. Anyway, I’ve been looking for him for a few days now, and I saw him stumble out of this bar and—,” you took in a breath before continuing, “I was just wondering if you knew where he was or could give me an address or something that’ll help me find him. He just— he seems so lost, and I want to help him.”

Your sharp stare of pure persistence had Hoseok smiling. It had been such a long time since someone had asked about, or even cared to mention Yoongi. Yoongi had become a no-one; irrelevant and frequently choosing to shield himself within the shadows of society. All the attention that he had once garnered, dissipated within time, and soon, he was one of us. Someone that ordinary people could not care less about.

He didn’t mind, hell— he could not be happier about it. A chance to bury his fame, a chance to live as someone that walked through the streets without having comments being thrown at him. It was a new life, and he was ready to live it to the fullest.

However, the life that he had expected had hit him from another direction. Yoongi was not prepared for the countless obstacles that he had had to encounter, the brutal comments murmured behind whispered lips and preying eyes, the quick zip-up of his hoodie and endless fidgeting of the cap that sat upon his head far more than he would have liked. Breathless chuckles left his pursed lips often, and his eyes did not glint with happiness, instead, with indifference.

It had been a while since Yoongi was as shaken up as he was after meeting you. The effect that you had had upon him, even after the two, not-so, pleasant encounters. Yet, the pure aura that surrounded was like a breath a fresh air; something that Yoongi so desperately needed. It wasn’t sexual desires, no— all Yoongi wanted was someone to confide in, someone who could help him rekindle his passion and love for music — and for some reason, Yoongi had felt as if that someone was you.

After numerous shocking and quite embarrassing stories of Yoongi (that almost made you choke on your drink a few times), you had decided that it had become late enough to leave. Still, there was no sign of Yoongi, and you couldn’t help the speck of disappointment that had taken over your mind. Obviously, you were not someone of importance to him; you were a stranger. Yoongi certainly had no obligation to come and you were in no place to demand for his presence.

Thanking Hoseok, you pushed open the bar door to be greeted with the crisp wind that flew through the thin fabric of your shirt that you had, regretfully, thrown on. Rubbing your arms to try and produce some sort of heat, your eyes wandered to the beautifully painted sky; thick clouds that conquered the sky, oranges and pinks peeking through, as if it were sunlight penetrating the canopy of leaves in a forest.

You took a few steps, your attention directed upon the irregular shapes of the clouds and the various colours that you could point out, that you couldn’t see a figure walking towards you. Upon impact, you immediately apologised, only to be greeted with a hand on your shoulder.

“Your name?”

[ecotone99]

[SF] Gamer's Debt

"Crap, all I wanted was the gold chest so I can buy some extra lives. If I don't get any more extra lives, I'll lose all my gold when I die. How am I supposed to win if I have to pay for every damn thing?" Joden stepped down the ramp of his Blourgan cruiser and surveyed the alien landscape. It was barren except for the remains of a small village that he had just annihilated with a two-ton necro-missile.

"That's life. People are generally selfish, impatient, and insecure. Game companies use these weaknesses to motivate players. Maybe you shouldn't have blown up the village, is all I'm saying." The pilot of the cruiser, Jershamalama, spoke through his comm.

"But how does anyone get the hell out of this game if they can never win? I've been stuck in this hell hole for thirty days! My body’s back in the real world, rotting away.”

"Hey, you wanted to play, didn't you? Maybe if we travel to a non-npc sector we can trade off some of this junk we get every time we kill an enemy.” His pilot stared at him from the cockpit.

Joden looked back, “I feel like a slave. That garbage is only worth a pinto cent. It’ll take decades to get to the end game. And besides, that's if we can take off with all that junk. It'll take us a few hours to get back into the atmosphere. It's like a Fetch-22."

"You mean a fetch quest?"

"Yeah, something like that." said Joden taking out his cent-o-meter. It consumed his health bar as it scanned the surrounding sector. His eyes darted around his visor interface, looking at all the blips and bubbles that pinged. “I wish I could afford the Super Hyper Gold Jetpack that all the booster players use.”

“They only release that on the first Wednesday of every other month with a sign-on fee, an option to buy stocks in EternaEntertinament, a monthly fee, a mental evaluation, and maintenance fees when your able to grab it from one of the random places it spawns, like the Hell planet Infernum or the planet Madness Descent. Plus, I hear they only give you like a 3 second jump.”

“What?!” He nearly tripped over a crumpled alien body. “You can’t be serious. My mom’s going to kill me. I told her I was going to school. I figured I could just sign up for a few games, try my hand at Galactic Teamslayer, and be back at the rent-a-plex by nine. That was a month ago!”

“Relax. They won’t even notice you’re gone. Most parents have been sucked into this new thing called Binge Child Raising. EternaEntertinament created it too. It’s a simulation where adults can raise children and not have them become reclusive, angst-ridden failures. They’re really gouging everyone for money, real and fake, young and old.”

Joden was too focused on the horizon where a few blips were going off. They were purple, which meant that they were low-value targets. Everything seemed to be purple. “I never asked--how long you been here?” “You shoulda seen it when it was it first came out. The servers would never load and you had to sit there, in the darkness, watching a timer run out as they patched their simulation. It was like holding your breath under water.” The pilot sucked his teeth. “Hang on a sec. Have to rate the game again—after this ad.”

“Yeah, I hate doing this every hour.” The astronaut picked up a child’s toy from the clutched hand of a sloblarian. “Wonder what this is worth. I heard that we used to play with things like this, not just video games where you pay to win. Up, hang on a sec, got an ad playing.”

Joden’s reality changed. He was sitting on a park bench. A duck came up to him, honking and pulling at his pants. The countdown to the end of the ad appeared in his peripheral. It quaked and quaked until Joden threw down a few coins to skip it.

Back in game world he was still holding the toy. He threw it down with distain and a lack of remembrance for such physical trifles.

He was then asked to rate the game. He voted as he always had, giving it a one-star out of three. There was a chime and a message: “We’re sorry you’re not enjoying your time in our game world. Perhaps if you were more openminded and understanding of the fact that you may not always get what you want, you might have a better experience with our merchandise. Please lower your expectations. Thank you.”

Joden coughed to drown out the message he had heard a hundred times. “I’m so tired of game companies stealing from us. Don’t they realize that it’ll only make the game suffer?”

“Yeah,” responded the pilot, “let’s go steal something.” “I’m so tired, Jersh. I just want to go somewhere where we can kill an alien race and grind their bones into dust. What’s so wrong with that?”

“If you only knew, kid. On its launch the game world wasn’t even finished. Eterna used the gamers to construct most of the planets using the build-and-play incentive. Those gamers signed a contract that said that they had to make at least four hundred ‘products’ before they could actually the game. They called it the ‘fix-it-later’ release. The products they were referring to was one galaxy. Those designer gamers are probably still waiting…”

“Four hund--?” Joden held up his fist to the pilot, who had been watching from the ship’s windshield. “That’s extortion!”

“Welcome to the world. They get away with it because it’s a game world. You can do anything in the game world like gambling, murder, blackmail, forced labor, and forced sodomy. Nothing’s real so nothing matters.” The astronaut had disembarked about five hundred meters from the ship. Steam bellowed from its worn exhaust. “Why did you call me kid? How old are you? I mean I know you have the same avatar as me…”

“Age doesn’t matter either. Yeah, I couldn’t afford the customizations either.” Jersh tapped his helmet. “So, I guess we both have the same face.”

“And same weapons, gear, armor, boots, ships, weapon skins, and abilities.” He noticed a large oval blob on his visor’s HUD. It was moving closer behind a small series of stone pillars.

“Oh no, I have the blue-skinned Rigormortis rifle. It’s got this badass blue stripe on the side. Cost me 20,000 gold, 200 platinum, and 4 of my lifesaving’s accounts. If I didn’t have this stripe, I’d probably go insane or worse, color blind.”

“Shut up, dude. Something’s coming. I think it’s a surviving sloblarian. I hear they get angro really quick. I don’t want to die here, man. I never bought a 600-gold resurrection pack. It’ll take sixty days to load back in…” Jersh responded, sounding distracted, “You’re fine. Just cap it in the head or something.”

The purple blob was twenty meters away. If it wanted to attack it would have to come out into the open and charge him. He could tell there was movement but it was more restless than threatening. Joden took out his rifle and fired at the rock tower. The gun exploded in his hands, sending his obliterated fingers in multiple directions.

“Ah damnit! I forgot about the maintenance fee!” The figure bounded from the pillar and slunk slowly towards the enemy astronaut. It skulked across the yellow, Phallusian sand with its omni-dexterous flippers.

Arriving to the hunched-over human its tugged at his spacesuit and motioned for him to come closer.

“Gross dude, it wants to talk to me. What should I do?” The rounded head bobbed up and down like a rubbery ball. It seemed to be injured or at least miserable.

Joden heard distinct crunching noises emanating from the pilot’s mouth. “IDK. Step on it I guess.”

The polymorphous blob at his feet opened its crevice-like mouth and appeared to gasp for air. But it wasn’t gasping. It was whispering. He leaned down and listened.

“Dunk…prrray…Donk pppreeeey.” It was saying, and gargled as its lips flapped. “Doooonnk plllaaaaay. Chooose nut to pprraaaaay. Fyind sumting essl to do wilth yourg tyhme.”

“Oh, hell no!” shouted the man, as he squashed the creature’s face with his boot. It was like stepping on a water balloon filled with pebbles. He looked at where his hands used to be and screamed into the sky. “What does it all mean? Why do I always have to be punished! I’ve been in the same place for too long!”

"It's not good to live in a dream.” More crunching came from the ship. “You sometimes forget what life is like." Virtual blood splashed onto the dry dirt from his nubs. A few splatters mixed with the alien’s internal fluids. The reflective pool at his feet showed his avatar’s face, the same face of his pilots. He searched rapidly for any signs of wealth or material possession. There was nothing but ooze and viscera. Tattered cloth around the dead alien’s head was smushed and torn.

He turned toward the ship with a look of bewilderment. “How many gamers are trapped here? We can’t be the only ones. This game isn’t anything like what they advertised. They lied to us! Who would want to be stuck in this perpetual nightmare of pay-to-play, pay-to-build, pay-to-live, pay-to-pay mechanics?”

“I don’t think you get it.” The pilot was still eating.

“Companies do this to consumers because consumers let them. The general belief is that consumers are very smart but when’s the last time you heard someone say: ‘I won’t buy that because it goes against my code of ethics?’ None, no one’s ever said that. People like spending money. It’s in our blood. Its our nature to trust rich people. They seem to have all the right answers even when they don’t. They make the truths that we all follow. Besides, how could they get all that money if they had bad intentions.”

Joden used his character’s remaining strength to rush back towards the Blourgan cruiser. He felt a draft of air coming in the direction of the ship, and heard the engine roaring to life. “What the hell are you doing?” The mercenary vessel hovered three feet off the ground and its nose pointed at the runner. Its pilot could be seen through the windshield, “Sorry newb, you’re becoming to be a real downer.”

“I thought you were my friend!” he whimpered, his nubs heaving back and forth.

The ship elevated to ten feet. “None of us are really friends. We’re all just trying to make a living. And I need one more kill for the Slayer Award. We’re all just numbers.”

As he came to the plateau where he had disembarked, he held up his invisible hands to shield his face. “I just want to go home! I just want to go home.”

A cybersonic laser beam burst from the cruiser’s forward cannons. He felt the hot bathing light of the beam and then felt nothing at all.

“I can’t get out…I can’t…” He awoke in darkness. A screen appeared that read the same message he received hundreds of times, “You have died. Looks like you have low gear and feeble weapons. Would you like to buy a booster pack?”

“No.” he responded.

“A looter box?”

“No!”

He said the same words over and over before. The message continued, “You have elected to refuse game-provided assistance. This is a poor decision. In order to continue gameplay without using game-provided assistance please insert thirty-seven-point-one resurrection tokens.”

He wanted to cry but said, “I don’t have any.”

The automated voice paused and spoke again after popping up a sixty-page form. “Well that sucks. In order to continue please complete the loan agreement in front of you. The loan is for $6,000. Sign here, here, and here.” Joden lowered his shoulders and looked at his current debt. It read: “-387,000.” He breathed out, collapsing his chest, and grew red-faced. “No!” he shouted.

There was another pause and the form disappeared. For several moments there was darkness and silence.

“Very well.” The automated voice returned. “You have chosen reincarnation. Goodbye.”

“No!” he screamed defiantly. “No!”

Then, all of a sudden, he felt strange. He looked out through oddly-colored eyes. His hands had returned but they had three fingers instead of five. When he tried to speak, he could only gasp through what felt like a straw. The sand that he walked on grew hardened in his webbed feet. An alien girl danced toward him, carrying a toy. She hugged him with pencil-thin arms and turned towards the sky. Tattered robes fell along his arm and he patted the girl’s head. He looked up, to where the girl was gazing and saw a massive fireball break through the atmosphere. A necro-missile came out of the fiery plume, heading straight for their small, stony village.

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