#in my steam version so i am hoping that's the case at least!

[zevrans-remade]

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[ofthemorningstars]

Flurries and Flirtations (Part 2)

TerzOmega ~ Smut below the cut 3.1k words Part 1 Ao3 Version Terzo and Omega are snowed in at their hotel during an unplugged tour. What will they get up to? ---

They headed for the bathroom together and waited outside the large walk-in shower for the water to heat up. Terzo grimaced at the lack of a bathtub, wanting to soak. “No fireplace, no bathtub… None of the comforts of winter! I never thought I would miss the ministry, but I am wanting the luxuries of my quarters today.” Terzo pouted at this, just a little. Omega found the jut of his lower lip to be incredibly endearing. He wanted to grab it with his teeth. 

“Hey, at least we got to go out in the snow together. That would never happen at home.” Omega winced as he heard himself call their glorified prison a home, but it was where Terzo was, so he didn’t have another word for it. He'd follow Terzo to hell and back. Maybe even literally, someday…

“At least we GOT snow. That would never happen back home,” Terzo tried to joke, but Omega could see a hint of sadness behind his eyes, could feel it over their bond. Omega dragged him underneath the spray of the showerhead, hoping to melt it away. 

Terzo liked his water at temperatures that rivaled the heat of the pit itself, but Omega didn’t mind, so long as Terzo was comfortable. The room quickly filled with a thick veil of steam. They lathered one another’s skin with Terzo’s favorite body wash, a rich cream that smelled of vanilla and sandalwood. Omega dimly felt Terzo’s body relax even further under the hot water through the remaining threads of their connection and worried that Terzo might soon find himself unable to stand. He decided to keep a watchful eye on him just in case. 

Terzo waited for his conditioner to sit after Omega had scrubbed at his scalp with shampoo, ever careful of his claws. Terzo leaned back against him, and he took a moment to enjoy the press of their bodies. Skin to skin contact with his husband always felt healing; it was just… right. Terzo let his eyes fall shut when Omega began to hum to him. Omega wondered how he had gotten so lucky, to be able to call Terzo his own… to have been able to call him his own for nearly his entire summoning, no less. Terzo had spent more of his life with Omega than without him, and yet he still wanted to be with him, a beast of a man, when he could have any human of his choosing instead. Omega’s chest tightened, heart swelling with a love so strong that Terzo could feel ghosts of it through the last remaining thread of Omega’s quintessence, one that he was holding on tightly to. Terzo sighed happily. 

“I love you.” Terzo spoke softly, but his words reverberated through Omega’s skull. It was Omega’s turn to close his eyes. 

They didn’t leave from under the steady stream of water until it began to run cold. Terzo scoffed when Omega took over toweling him off, making sure he was bone dry before he let him leave the bathroom, worried about him getting ill. “I am not as fragile as you seem to think I am, amore,”  Terzo protested, but let Omega fuss anyway. “Says you,” Omega retorted, sticking his forked tongue out at him playfully. He watched as Terzo’s eyes zeroed in on his mouth before quickly looking away, swallowing hard. Omega hid a knowing smirk, maintaining a mask of innocence as they returned to the bedroom. He grabbed Terzo, pulling him close before flopping down onto the bed ungracefully, dragging Terzo with him. Terzo yelped, and to Omega’s delighted amusement, smacked at his arm. Omega nuzzled the side of Terzo’s face, practically purring at the prospect of having the next uninterrupted 24 hours together. He tightened his hold on the man in his arms, scheming up how they could make the most of this gift they’d been given. “Is this better? Would you rather I be rough with you?” Omega asked, flashing his fangs. Terzo’s light flush deepened. “Maybe. So what if I do?” Terzo quipped back, only half joking if the reddened tips of his ears were any indication.

“Mm. I can arrange for that, if you’d like.” Omega ran his nose lightly up the line of Terzo’s jaw. Omega suddenly flipped Terzo onto his back and he yelped again, sounding surprised. Omega kissed him hard then, silencing his protests before they could begin. Terzo broke away to catch his breath.

“Back again so soon?” Terzo quipped breathlessly. “Did I ever really leave, tesoro?” “I wish you wouldn’t,” Terzo angled his face up to catch Omega’s lips, hungry and full of want. “Someday I never will again,” Omega assured him, claws tracing across his cheekbone. “Promise?” Terzo tried to joke, but his eyes were sincere. “Promise.” This kiss was full of tenderness, the two of them making sure to take their time. Omega reached out to him with his quintessence again, wanting to pour the love and admiration he was feeling into Terzo. Wanting him to know just how much he meant to him. A single tear rolled down Terzo’s face as his senses were flooded with Omega’s affection. “Amore mio, I…” Terzo choked up, unable to finish the thought. He didn’t need to.

Omega wiped away Terzo’s tear with the back of a clawed finger, kissing Terzo’s eyes, then his forehead. His mouth began to make its way down Terzo’s body, stopping every few inches to praise him. He took his time, worshiping every angle and curve. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, looking up to meet Terzo’s heavily lidded eyes. “So beautiful…” He swirled his tongue around Terzo’s navel. “And you’re all mine,” Omega growled, nipping at his hip for emphasis. Terzo whined, biting his lip as Omega traveled lower.

Omega settled himself between Terzo’s legs, kissing the tip of Terzo’s cock, already hard for him. He could feel Terzo hold his breath as he moved even lower, encouraging Terzo to spread wide. Omega’s hands slid under his ass, supporting him. He kissed and bit his way down Terzo’s inner thighs, then back up, bruises blooming in his wake. Terzo gasped as Omega’s mouth made contact with his hole, licking with the flat of his tongue. Omega ran both sides of his forked tongue along his rim independently, teasing him mercilessly. His breath was hot on Terzo’s taint. Omega could feel the sensations coursing over their bond, chasing them. 

When Omega hummed for added stimulation as he increased his speed, Terzo’s hips nearly arched off the bed. Omega began to grind against the mattress, hopelessly turned on by the responsiveness of Terzo’s body. He wished that he could bring his fingers into play, that he could thrust and massage and milk, cursing his claws. Instead his tongue dipped inside, eliciting a reaction from his lover all the same. Terzo whimpered pitifully, his thighs clamping down around Omega’s ears. Omega knew Terzo wanted to touch himself. He also knew that Terzo wanted to be good for him. 

Omega glanced up, not really needing to check visually on how Terzo was doing, but wanting to see his lover’s face contorted in ecstasy. Terzo’s face was a perfect mask of bliss as he writhed beneath Omega’s touch. He watched as Terzo’s hand twitched towards his cock, but he stopped himself. Good boy, Omega projected his thoughts towards Terzo. All Terzo could manage in response was a long, low moan. 

“Omega, please…” Terzo begged, needy. Omega reluctantly tore himself away from his work. “Tell me what you need, mio amato,” Omega urged gently. He squeezed Terzo’s ass, claws digging. “I need you inside me,” Terzo huffed, thighs tightening their hold as he felt the bolt of lust that shot through Omega at his words. Omega closed his eyes to the feeling, letting his desire overtake him.

“On your knees,” Omega directed, disentangling himself from Terzo’s legs. Terzo eagerly complied with his ass up, face pressed against the bed, his back in a deep arch, breath shallow with anticipation. While Terzo got into position, Omega scrambled to retrieve a bottle of lube from one of their bags, cursing himself for not having the forethought to set one out when they had arrived at the hotel. They had simply been too exhausted the night before to do anything other than collapse into bed together and sleep.

Omega returned to the bed and hastily prepared himself, desperate to be inside of his husband. Again he wished he could bury his fingers inside of Terzo, but right now his head was swimming too much to bother retrieving his mask to use its glamour magic in order to temporarily rid himself of his claws. Instead he lined himself up and slowly pushed inside, inch by delicious inch, releasing a shuddering breath. Terzo let out a guttural groan, burying his face in the sheets, panting as he adjusted to Omega’s considerable size. Terzo looked back at Omega over his shoulder after a moment, silently begging him to start moving.

Gripping Terzo’s hips firmly, Omega began to thrust, driving the smaller man into the mattress. Through his quintessence, Omega could feel the same overwhelming fullness, the same sweep of his cock against his prostate that Terzo felt. Terzo, in turn, felt his own tight warmth the way Omega did. Their senses started to meld together, the boundaries between their bodies and minds blurring, ceasing to have any meaning. Soon they were both slick with sweat, and Terzo began to press back into Omega’s hips, desperate for more. Again Terzo’s hand twitched toward his cock, and again he denied himself. “Nng. You’re being such a good boy for me today,” Omega praised him through gritted teeth. Terzo sobbed, clawing at the sheets. Omega picked up his pace, riding him hard and fast. His tail wrapped possessively around Terzo’s leg as Terzo began to mewl and beg incoherently, further entwining them together; the overwhelming need to be close to his partner was threatening to drive Omega mad.

Omega was enraptured as Terzo began to moan his name over and over like a prayer, getting a little louder with each thrust. Soon Terzo was too winded to speak at all, moaning wordlessly instead. Omega tightened his grip on Terzo’s hips, claws digging into tender flesh, enjoying the pinch of pain as he felt it hum over their connection.

As Omega began to feel Terzo slipping he tried to hold him back, not wanting it to end yet. Terzo cried out, pleading, so close to the edge. Omega rode him for another minute more before his grip on his own restraint finally gave out, no longer able to fight off the inevitable. He allowed Terzo his release; Terzo nearly screamed as he came, untouched. Omega came deep inside with a snarl as he felt Terzo tighten around him. He gave a few last thrusts as he rode out the waves, the world going white before slowly, slowly coming back into focus. Omega pulled out reluctantly, wanting to stay entwined with Terzo but too exhausted to continue to support his own weight. As he pulled away he took a moment to admire his work, watching his seed leak out of Terzo. Satisfied, he collapsed on the bed beside his lover, gathering Terzo’s trembling form into his arms before covering them both with the blankets. Terzo was boneless, still trying to catch his breath. It was Terzo’s turn to project his love to Omega, and Omega closed his eyes to it, letting it wash over him and infiltrate every cell of his body. He welcomed it. He pressed a kiss to the top of Terzo’s head, inhaling deeply. He wanted to commit this day to memory. Terzo tried moving impossibly closer, settling for slotting a leg between Omega’s. He could feel Terzo begin to doze and started to follow, when suddenly there was a sharp jolt of sorrow along their bond. Something was wrong. “Terzo?” Omega asked softly, voice full of concern. Terzo sniffled, but didn’t answer right away. Omega stroked his hair, giving him a moment. “I don’t want to go home… I do not want to leave this room. I wish that we could stay in our own world together forever,” Terzo whispered. “No one else has ever known a love like this, I know it. The world is cruel to try and keep us apart.” Omega’s heart sank at feeling Terzo’s pain. He usually tried not to think too hard about their circumstances, as a rule, for the same reasons. “Maybe we could run away together,” Omega joked weakly, knowing all of the reasons that would never work. He could never blend in, couldn’t even exist in human society without that damned mask, an artifact that in itself wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. “That’s not funny,” Terzo croaked, hastily trying to wipe away tears before Omega could see them. Omega didn’t know why he bothered, as though he couldn’t feel the sadness reverberating through him. “The Imperator won’t be around forever, you know,” Omega reminded him softly; they had talked about this often, a common sticking point for them. He could feel Terzo roll his eyes. “Si, but it’s not as though I am the next in line,” Terzo spat bitterly. “Who knows what diabolical scheme she has planned for when she finally kicks it.” He sounded frustrated, although Omega knew him well enough to know the frustration wasn’t with him. This was something that had been building his whole life. 

“Surely it can’t be as bad as this,” Omega mused, more to himself than to Terzo. “It doesn’t matter what she has planned. I really do think that the instability and chaos could be enough for us to get the upper hand we need to make some real change.” Terzo sighed, burying his face deeper into Omega’s chest, taking a few breaths before turning to speak. “I hope you’re right, amore. I worry about how all this will end.” Terzo sounded defeated. Omega grimaced.

“Those endings are one possibility. Why not focus on all of the countless others? There’s a world out there where it’s just you and me, forever. Where we can live openly, without fear. Where we can make a real difference. We could change the ministry, overthrow it, hell, leave it altogether for a secluded cabin somewhere.” Omega ran his claws through Terzo’s hair as he spoke, trying to soothe away the anguish he could feel taking hold of his husband. “It’s not just that, mia ombra. Even if all of that is true…” Terzo trailed off in a whisper.

Oh no. Omega could have felt where this was going from a mile away even without his quintessence. He desperately wanted to change the subject, to do anything to stop Terzo from reopening this wound again. But it would be wrong for Omega to speak over him, to ignore his pain. Instead, he pulled Terzo against his body tighter and waited for him to speak. “Even if there is an ending where we get to live together freely… There is still no ending where we get to have a family. Where…” Terzo choked up, unable to finish the thought as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. 

Omega’s heart broke, not just for Terzo, but for his own pain over everything that they would never have. For his millennia of existence, Omega had never given much thought to human concepts like “settling down”. That was something that people did, not infernal beings like himself. And yet, from the moment he’d laid eyes on Terzo, he had been a changed man. He wanted to spend eternity with him, wanted to wake up next to him every morning. He wanted to build a life together. Wanted to raise a new generation together. Wanted to watch Terzo blossom into the nurturer he always knew him to be. Wanted to see more of the side of Terzo he only got to see when a fan handed him a baby wearing his paint on tour, or when he was calling up the ministry’s little ones for children’s service on Sundays. “I don’t care about preserving my legacy, Omega. It’s not about that,” Terzo collected himself enough to murmur between sniffles. “I just want a family with you.” 

Terzo was right. It didn’t matter if they were human or ghoul, or somewhere in between. It didn’t matter if they were natural or adopted, although the image of Terzo carrying… No, he absolutely could not go there. He quickly shoved the thought out of his mind, but it was too late. He could feel Terzo’s face begin to heat up. Yes, he would do whatever it took to raise a family with Terzo. Yes, his heart shattered every time they talked about it and reinforced the impossibility of it. This was a conversation they’d had a thousand times, and he would happily have it a thousand more, but not today. Please, not today. Today was a rare gift, one that he didn’t want to sully with tears over things that could never be. Instead, Omega focused hard on pouring every ounce of the infinite love he had within him into the man in his arms with his quintessence. Terzo’s body began to heat up, overwhelmed with emotion, both Omega’s and his own. He hid his face in Omega’s chest, but did his best to return the show of affection. Omega let the feeling wash over him. He buried his face in Terzo’s hair, drinking in his scent openly and unapologetically this time.

They lay like that, basking in each other’s love, until the march of time could no longer be ignored when Terzo’s stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since before last night’s show, and his body was not happy about being ignored. Terzo groaned, irritated. Omega could feel how badly he didn’t want to leave the bed and chuckled. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to get up. We can order room service. She stuck us here, so she’s paying,” Omega assured him. He felt Terzo’s mood brighten considerably at the prospect.

They ate in bed together, Terzo leaning heavily on Omega as they fed each other. Omega kept his word about letting Terzo stay in bed all day; they cuddled and kissed and talked, sharing languid touches, not more than an inch between them all the while. When their touch grew heated and Terzo was once again begging for him, Omega grabbed a pillow to prop Terzo’s hips up for easier access. As he entered Terzo again, he echoed his words from earlier that morning.

“Terzo. My love. My light… I love you.”

[geeky-politics-46]

COVID Cuddles

Pairing: Doctor Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: It finally got you! You are sick with COVID-19 and missing Stephen's cuddles

Warnings: reader has COVID, pandemic references, slight angst with fluffy happy ending, language

This fic is totally self-indulgent as i am sick with COVID right now & my Doctor Strange teddy bear is one of the things keeping me company. So I made it into a story. Probably lots of errors as I'm sick & drugged

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

You looked up at him in the doorway, masked fave peeking through, from where you sat on the bathroom floor. Tissues shoved up both nostrils as you waited for the bathroom to fill with steam from the shower before you tossed a Vicks vapor shower bomb under the water. Hoping that it would make it easier to breathe. Or at least make it sound like you didn't smoke 4 packs of cigarettes a day.

You had made it 3 years without getting COVID-19, but finally it got you. Despite the 2 original vaccines and 2 boosters. Your number eventually came up. You knew it would eventually. You just hoped the vaccines would make the illness shorter still.

"Well, I feel like I swallowed broken bits of light bulb, and I had a coughing fit so bad earlier I nearly puked. So I'm fucking fabulous."

They never mentioned a side effect of COVID was that it made you mean. Of course, maybe that was just you. You knew with your asthma you had to throw everything at this now just in case. So that was what you were doing. Currently waiting for your 6 hours between NyQuil shots with an ibuprofen chaser to elapse so you could top yourself up and get a good 3 hour nap before starting the waiting process all over again.

It made matters even worse that the moment you tested positive you basically became a leper. Stephen, Wong, and America banished you to the bedroom and adjoining bathroom. Wong even put up a quarantine spell that would alert them if you tried to leave the room.

You understood why. The Sorcerer Supreme and one of the Avengers getting severely ill probably wouldn't be a good thing. Much too tempting for the forces of evil. No one really knew if America could get COVID, having traveled the multiverse she probably had antibodies to things that didn't even exist in your world, but it was better safe than sorry.

Still though, a cuddle sounded really good right about now, and that was one thing Stephen couldn't give you. At least not until you were no longer contagious. You still had a couple days to go before that was even a possibility.

He was doing his absolute best to give you anything he thought you might need. Leaving trays and bags of food and medicine. Occasionally throwing in some candy or a random little treat he thought would cheer you up. He was trying so hard. Especially when you knew he wasn't exactly known for his bedside manner as a Doctor.

You hated snapping at him. You just felt genuinely terrible, and you knew that you just had to ride it out. For the most part, by yourself. It almost felt worse when he would check on you, knowing that you couldn't go hug him or even hold his hand without exposing him even more than you already had.

"I know you are miserable right now, and I know I don't have to keep bringing you all sorts of stuff beyond food and drugs. However, America showed me something that we both decided you needed. It's a friend to keep you company."

He reached inside and set down a large plain white paper gift bag. Stepping back and closing the door so you could move to get the bag, taking it back to your spot by the tub before looking in the bag.

As you peeked in the bag, you were immediately about to burst into tears. Inside was a fairly large brown teddy bear. What made it special though was that it was styled to look like Stephen.

It had blue eyes and a very dark brown goatee on its face. That alone was enough to make you giggle. The fact that it was wearing a version of Stephen's blue sorcerer's robes and it's own little Cloak Of Levitation attached to it's shoulders with velcro was just icing on the cake.

It was perfect. Soft and perfect size to snuggle while still being well formed enough that stayed looking like Stephen. Just Stephen in teddy bear form.

"Stephen, it's perfect! I love him so much! This is exactly what I needed. Thank you"

He peeked back through the door to see you already snuggling the bear tight to your chest. Happy tears on your cheeks and for the first time in days a smile on your face.

You couldn't see it behind his mask, but he was smiling too. So relieved that he could make you feel better even for just a little but. He figured you missed cuddling. He knew that he missed it. He had stolen one of your sweatshirts to snuggle, so he thought it was perfect when America showed him the bear.

Now once you were better, he might have a problem with the bear if he was there for you to cuddle instead. He would deal with that when the time came though. For now, he would share you.

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

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Stephen Strange Taglist: @starkiller-queen @glitterylokislut @verycollectivecreator @chatampr @maskmare931 @lovecleastrange @wheredafandomat @mkixx @evelynrosestuff @katefullerrr @littlepinknightmare @foofarny @stygianoir @moonroyalt @saturnsbabe69 @blaxdet @blackrose-92 @ironstrange1991 @rindulacre @nancy-thompsons @wolfatheartandsoul @dangerouslittlefairy @n0obmaster-69 @oliveoilthoughts @onebatch--twobatch @yourmajesty13 @blondekel77 @lil-sweater-slut @gwephen @taramaria @sinceimetyou @slashersrus @coeurgrenaty @cc13723things @just--a-magpie @supervengerslock @strangelockd @dont-feel-so-good-peter @kingsmanperfecthartwin @ghost-lantern @inlovewithloki16 @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @itssmaugtheterrible @katherinemaximoff @veryfancydoilies @cute-angi @mochacake2016 @prix19 @alexfanficnook @anotheroddfish @mando-is-the-way @xourownsidee @baes-x @dreamingsmile @negar77rd @imaginesfreetotake @ppatricia34me @rougepetale @tis-vereon @divinearchangel @sherlux @hiddlechive @ginnykate @thatesqcrush @friendofplenti @yuugenmomo @holdmyowos @the-royal-petals @lokislov3 @captaincarmel164 @lucimorningst4r @mydearalmira @petalcranberry @singhfae @emotionsareforuglypeople @trappedinlimbo15 @veryladyqueen @icytrickster17 @kentucky-criedfricken @briefhandsstudenttoad @calamityismyspecialty @sinisterstrange616 @patbrdac @trojanaurora @azu21 @massivehahaao3tree @strangesgirl

[hermit-pride]

Day: 10. Not very certain about my sexual orientation or status, if you will. I have never had a strong libido with my schizoid traits playing a key role. Sex was always a physical only thing. I remember a one night stand that I had. It was wonderful, out in nature among giant trees. Couldn't be more perfect. But I couldn't wait to get her home and leave even though she invited me in for (thirds). But I was 22 and that was so many years ago.

My wife haven't been intimate in at least ten years. And the decade before that wasn't much better. Not for lack of eagerness on her part. But she is old school and feels that if a guy doesn't initiate it's because he doesn't want it.

I am repelled by intimacy. I have, however had sex with myself once or twice a week. Not imagining someone I know as a partner, just that surge forward to ring the bell and renew my dopamine levels. I do not have sexy dreams or fantasize about sex. I don't recall being sexually attracted to another in a very long time.

But I am attracted to females intellectually. Case in point, I belonged to a gymn for a while. I would ride the exercise bikes, and hope she would show up, and then hit the steam room and shower before going to work. Let's call her Pam.

The room that is set up for exercise bikes is glassed in and the lights were always off, unless a class was in progress. Pam would come in and do a few stretches on the mats then hop on her favorite bike. Always the second from the front in the left side if facing out. She would start slow, then increase her speed. She would never sprint. After she warmed up, she would stand up while not breaking her pedalling pace and let go of the handle bars. It was graceful and pure magic!

She would ride standing for a good while then settle back into the seat. It was a dance; a thing of utter beauty and she seemed unaware that she had an audience. The process would be repeated two more times. I was pedalling in the back of the same room and could mostly only see her silhouette.

I was only able to see the solo act seven or eight times. And then I never saw her again. She would towel off then leave. I wanted to see her face. But to do so would give everything away. I marveled at her beauty of movement. But never had any lust for her.

Also, I have worked for and with dozens of managers in my nursing career but none have been held in higher esteem than my current manager. Not even close. She is the nicest (can be firm when needed but has the uncanny ability to make you somehow feel good when she provides corrective criticism). She was voted nurse of the year 2022 at which time she was also divorcing her husband. She is raising two young children, mostly by herself, she manages an ER with over 100 staff not including physicians, residents and advance practice nurses. OBTW she is at this time completing her master's degree. My word, did I leave anything out?

She is also pretty but I don't think she knows it. She reminds me of a 5'8" version of Julie Dreyfus. When she asks you to do something, there is no question. It gets done.

So she is my professional "crush". She is destined for advancement. I will miss her and remember her fondly.

So, am I asexual even though I have solo sex with no real person in mind? Or is it something else? And as you might guess I may be aromantic as well. I enjoy reading about romance occasionally but think that it is for me, unattainable. I've tried to be romantic with my wife, compliment her, bring her flowers, rub her feet. But it all feels so contrived and doesn't last. I'm a shit husband. But on the other hand I take good care of all her needs and can't imagine life without her 🤍💛.

[lutiaslayton]

Hey guys, you know what

Given the news about New World of Steam, a lot of us are going to replay the games for old time’s sake. With or without this news, I would have done so anyway, but while we’re at it… It just occurred to me.

Why don’t I just share my notes with you as I go through them? Aka, I suppose, go back to that series past me had started years ago where I had intended to study the plot in more depth, see how the puzzles could work in-universe, and just overall try to expand on the lore.

Here is the series in question, in case you don’t know what I am talking about.

I was once again desperately trying to sort my notes through the puzzle theory post I have been trying to make for practically a month, and I just thought that it was simply too big a monster to tackle in only one post. So why not expand on it as we play through the games directly, I guess?

I will make zero promises regarding a schedule, and I am very likely to not make any shitpost-y comics every episode. But what I can offer, however, is a thorough comparison between the Japanese version and the English languages we know (either US or UK, depending). If schedule there is, I will most likely make some sort of queue (past me had planned to separate the episodes in terms of “one puzzle per post”, and this seems to me like a good habit to keep), so I can write multiple posts in a row and then have them post weekly, or bi-weekly, or something like that.

If I ever get to it, I will tag these posts as #pl puzzle theory, since it is a tag I was already using. Feel free to blacklist it if you don’t want to see it! And for those who do, I hope I will manage to make something that is entertaining, thorough, and informative. And not too shitpost-y lol, at least not when it comes to analysing the raw evidence.

(PS: Of course, as always, the priority will always be the fanfic Stable Like Sand. I am merely saying that this playthrough marathon has been on my to-do list for fanfic research purposes for a very long time already, and that I suppose that making it a public mini-series instead of something I would have otherwise kept to myself for the most part will motivate me to get back into it, and make it open to discussion with you all! I am absolutely expecting to get some of my hypotheses contradicted and such, so don’t be shy, that will on the contrary be extremely helpful :D)

[lennalefay]

hey so i saw your reblog and uh yeah you got any rythm games to reccomend? (I play mostly osu!mania kind of games)

Yesssss tytyty! Let's do this! And I play more traditional Beatmania-style stuff anyway so that works! OK so I will say that a lot of the rhythm games I tend to play and recommend are a bit more self-contained, that while I do mess with osu!mania from time to time, I mainly play stuff without custom songs, or at least officially. BUT! I do still recommend these a ton! I also know that there's a good chance you may know these, but I'm adding them in just in case you don't or if anyone else reads! Just didn't want you to think I am assumin' your level of experience with the genre. Hokay! So!

Beatmania IIDX

(Arcade, PS2, PC sorta) Basically the mother of any traditional 4-to-8-key rhythm games. Beatmania I and III were novelties, but there are now **30** standard versions of IIDX and for good reason. Literal thousands of song+difficulty combos and all damn types of genres, and punishing but classic 7-key gameplay. Iirc Beatmania was also the first keysounded rhythm game and you still simply can't go wrong with it. The problem is the barrier to play -- either gotta find an arcade version or get an old PS2 and find a PS2-compatible controller. You can also hack the arcade versions and get them on PC but it's very tricky. But it's certainly worth it!

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DJMAX Respect V

(PC highly recommended - also PS4-5, Xbox but missing some features) Probably the rhythm game I play the most nowadays, especially good because it is played best with a standard computer keyboard - no fancy tech. Incredibly high production value, tons of really good original music and good collabs, and 4, 5, 6, and 8-key modes with players at all levels. Visuals and customizations + unlockables are amazing, tons of DLC and a season pass (that lets you play DLC for free online w/ others), and even very robust ranked online play make this my absolute biggest recommendation. The game is a full $49 price so for a rhythm game it can be a bit pricey, but it tends to go on massive sales during most Steam sale periods, usually like ~75% off! (Also message me if you get this and I will totally play with.)

---

Muse Dash

(PC, Mobile, Switch) I slept on this game WAY too long. It just looked too much like a platformer at first to have, like, a ton of rhythm game depth, but it absolutely has it all. Still traditional rhythm game gameplay, similar to Taiko in a slight way where you're basically hitting 'enemies' or dodging hazards at two locations, with a ton of original and crossover music, cute-as-hell characters and backgrounds and bosses, and a really good difficulty scale for all kinds of players. The base game serves as almost a trial of sorts with a one-time unlock cost that gives you all past AND future DLC, so it is entirely worth the sticker price! They pump out music at a really good clip and the quality bar remains pretty high. PC and mobile can even sync their progress together if you want to play on the go! (I don't recommend the Switch port because it can't sync scores/level and tends to get songs later, but it's not awful otherwise.) Hiiiighly recommend getting at least the starter version for a couple bucks and seeing if you like it!

---

Cytus II

(Mobile, recommend a tablet/iPad) If you want a story for your rhythm game, it literally does not get better than this. Tap-based game that feels like a combination of osu! and DJMAX Technika with some absolutely incredible narrative, even things like bosses and secrets that you'd find in ARGs. This game crossed over to most of the above games too so maybe you'll find something you like in one of them and come here after!

---

Honorable Mentions

EZ2ON Reboot R

Hatsune Miku Project DIVA MegaMix

DEEMO Reborn

I literally could list more than this too, haha, but these are my definite go-tos nowadays and you can always message me to find out more and talk shop! Hope this helps!! 💛💛

[usodeshou]

It happened again 👀

This time, I was prepared, though, so I only lost half a chapter's worth of progress. The back-up of the most recent save also produced an empty game file, so it must have been messed up before I even copied it over, which I did literally right after I closed the game last night.

The previous save thankfully turned out to be okay so that put me back at the beginning of this current chapter (and I didn't get very far in this before, so that's good at least).

But this is supremely weird. I've made my way through the dev's/publisher's various social media accounts and homepages and eventually found out where to send an ask to about this, so I did. Not holding out much hope that anything is gonna come of it, but I'm just curious as hell what's causing this. It might be a problem specific to this version which is a PS4 port from the original PC version and so far I haven't seen anyone who's had this problem there.

I wish I could at least pinpoint if it's anything specific I'm doing that results in this, so I could avoid it and play in peace. I still want to play it, because there's still so many story paths to unlock and I'm actually having a lot of fun with it. I haven't even seen the true ending yet lol.

The question is, am I going to continue traversing a minefield or am I going to hope for a discount during a steam sale and get it there again, in the hopes that the issue just doesn't exist there? ...Strangely? Right now? It would annoy me more to have to buy it again instead of continuing with what I have and trying to find patterns in the minefield that can help me mostly avoid the mines, if that makes any sense? 🙈😅

I'm also just itching to know why this is happening?? I hate not knowing. I like knowing how shit works and why it doesn't work. Like. This is not a small bug. Game data getting completely wiped, on not one singular but now already two separate occasions, leaving you with a game that looks like you never even played it, all progress gone? This is one of those things that should never, ever, ever be possible to happen in your game. Ever. Unless there's a big red button that says 'Click me to reset your progress to zero, do at your own risk'. In that case, it's exactly what's supposed to happen. But this game doesn't have a button like that. It still seems to randomly press it, though, which is a problem lol

I- 😶 I'm currently playing a horror visual novel and I just started the game to continue my 2nd playthrough and all of my save data is just. Gone. 👀

Checked my System Storage/Application Save Data Management thingy and, sure enough, there's nothing there. It's as if I never played the game. Not exactly what I had in mind for the horror element of the game lol

It's extra dumb because I do regularly back up my save files but for some reason, I never once backed them up after I started this game 🤦‍♀️

The only saving grace in this scenario is that it's a niche game so there's not a lot of info about it out there, so after my first PT I randomly decided to make it my nerd project to map out the entire tree branch of the story and all the different choices and how to unlock side branches and gallery entries and such (and make it look pretty for me ☺️).

I mapped out the skeleton of the trees of each chapter in Excel, with icons and everything, it was super fun 😄, and then made a copy of each and filled in the path I took during the 1st PT.

Starting with the 2nd PT, I filled in story info, path trigger conditions, etc. and, thankfully (oh my god, thankfully) made a second copy and filled in my path for the 2nd PT whenever I finished a chapter. So I actually have my entire first and the first 4 chapters of the 2nd PT mapped out (and ch.5 is fresh enough that I remember most of what I chose and how far I got yesterday). I know exactly what I did, and for everything from the 2nd PT plus the parts from the first that overlap I also have all the trigger conditions, so I know how to fill in all the nodes there.

Ironically, I was paranoid enough about potentially losing the excel file that I did in fact back it up every day before I turned of the computer 😅

This is gonna make getting the save file back to exactly where I was very easy, it's just gonna take time. Time that I'd wanted to spend on the 2nd half of chapter 5 today, but yeah, well 🙈

I'm so glad I did this, otherwise my frustration would be a million times higher now. Like this I'm more focused on my utter confusion as to why this happened in the first place. Saving works really fast, so it's almost impossible to turn off the game while it saves, plus I always wait a moment before I quit the game. And I was looking through the gallery before I turned it off completely last night. As far as I'm aware there is zero reason for this. I sure as hell am going to back the fuck out of my saves from now on, though, that much is certain. I'm off to retrace my steps now, I guess 🙈

[goldensunset]

I know like nothing about TWEWY except for the stuff in like DDD but I know Game Partners are a thing at least and I've seen a lot of people talking about Sora doing the Reaper's Game in Quadratum and like. After Dark Road I'm now sitting here wondering "okay but what if Sora's Game Partner was just Xehanort14."

WAIT THAT IS SO FUNNY I’M OBSESSED

if there’s one mantra that’s constantly being repeated in twewy it’s ‘trust your partner.’ (and also like, open up to them and bond with them and all that, but that all filters into trust, cuz ya can’t trust someone you don’t know.) neku has trouble trusting people because he’s a little edgelord because he makes snap judgments about them based on limited information. then later on he realizes he got it all wrong and they’re not really bad people after all.

and you NEED to be able to trust your partner in twewy. not just bc ‘friendship is magic teamwork is power yay’ it is LITERALLY power. you physically cannot use psychs (psychic abilities/weapons/powers) at all without an official partner pact in the first place. and both players have to consent to it. and after you have a pact then yeah you can both use your powers individually but you’ll be super weak if you try to do everything yourselves. your true power only comes from the two of you being in mental/physical sync.

but like. young xehanort. quadratum xehanort. xehanort14. whatever we’re calling him. that is CRAZY that would make one heck of a player partnership. there would be instant tension between him and sora. because, see, sora is an open-minded and friendly guy who loves going the extra mile for other people, even a bunch of strangers. at least until kh3 cuz you could just tell that boy was losing steam and getting tired of putting on a smile but it’s different when it’s someone he already knows, and more specifically knows that he can’t trust.

(now i guess the specifics here depend on what version of young xehanort this is, exactly. which is something we have to consider anyway if we’re theorizing he’ll be in quadratum at all. my main idea is essentially a version of him from a splintered-off timeline in which he DIDN’T become evil. maybe even before the whole time travel thing happened, so like… immediately following dark road. that would mean he would have no idea what sora was accusing him of. but then also he wouldn’t know sora at all so it wouldn’t be nearly as interesting.

so i guess…what i would hope for is a version of yx taken from his time travel adventures. or maybe afterwards, in a situation where his heart somehow managed to keep those memories. or idk it could be outright a new life for him after his death in kh3, which honestly seems the most reasonable to work with. so it’s young guy who’s guilty of everything old norty did. even harder to forgive. tbf we saw him transform back into that form before ascending with eraqus so idk maybe it’s possible)

anyway. imagine sora and xehanort being like ‘aw snap, we’re the only two unpartnered players left. dangit ok fine i’ll make a pact with you. but i am WATCHING you the entire time i don’t trust you as far as i can throw you.’ great, initial threat nullified. but oh man would it be messy after that. yeah can you imagine sora and yx having a nice heart-to-heart? forming a warrior’s bond and fighting side by side? i’d absolutely love to see it. but it would take a great deal of effort first in any case

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 5

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 4500+

Warnings: Language, drinking, angst, fluff

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

After a week of taking call after call, it was nice to get together with the girls. It wasn’t going to be a late-night, but after last weeks rough call, you just wanted to get out of your head and blow off some steam with Nat and Carol at Happy’s Hydrant. 

The Hydrant was the place to be tonight. You couldn't remember it ever being this busy, but it was a Friday night. There were always women hoping to get with a man in uniform and men hoping to get lucky with a badass woman first responder. For some, it worked like a charm, but for others, while they had to work a little harder to get some action. 

You leaned against your pool cue, watching Nat lineup her stick to the corner pocket with Carol observing from the side, sipping on her beer. Nat took the shot but missed the pocket, forcing a smirk across your lips. Nat stood up straight, rolling her eyes at you.

“Can’t win them all,” you teased, eyeing the table to find your next shot. 

Billards was your bar game. When you were attending New York University, you worked at a bar and hustled to make a few extra bucks. Guys would often undermine you at first, but you weren’t afraid to show them what you could do.  

“Hey, sweet thing, you like playing pool,” a guy said behind you as you leaned over to take a shot. 

“It seems that way, doesn’t it,” you replied, rolling your eyes. He placed a hand on your lower back, making you tense up and let out a sharp breath. You stood up straight and turned around to face him. He was standing closer to you than you expected, and you could smell the overconsumption of alcohol on his breath.

“I’ll bring the balls if you bring your rack.” He bit his lip, his eyes drifting to your chest.

“You sure you have the balls to handle me because that line was fucking terrible.”

“Do you want to find out?”

“No.”

“Come on, girl.” He stepped even closer to you, making the back of your thighs hit the pool table. He placed his hands on your hips, and you froze in place. Your heart pounded, feeling every nerve in your body firing, telling you to run, but your mind filled with fear. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to get away from those thoughts, but deep down, you knew one wrong move or smartass remark would make things worse.

“Can you...Can you please get your hands off of me,” you gulped, letting out a shaky breath.

“What’s that sweetheart?”

“Get your hands off of her asshole. She’s not interested,” Nat's voice hit your ears, and you felt the weight in front of you disappear.

“Yeah, take a walk prick,” Carol shouted beside you. You opened your eyes to see the asshole retreating away, letting out a relieved breath. “How you holding up, girl?”

You shrugged. “I’ll be fine. Sorry, I kind of froze up there.”

“Don’t apologize, dude was an asshole. You’re still trying to find yourself and get your confidence back,” Carol replied, patting you on the shoulder. “You’ll find it, and when you do, we’ll be right there with you.” You nodded, crossing your arms across your chest. “If you’re interested, Val teaches a self-defense class, well it’s more of a boxing class at Jabari Tribe Training Center. We could even go with you,” Carol offered, earning a nod from Nat. 

“I’ll think about it.” You shrugged, staring at the floor.

“You know what, girls, this calls for shots,” Nat commented. “I’ll be back.” She disappeared to the bar, being greeted by a few guys offering to buy her the shots.

“Hey, YN.” You peeked up at Carol before your eyes drifted back to the floor. “Promise me you won’t let that asshole ruin your night.”

“I promise.”

“Good. And not all guys are like him; some are just drunk assholes who think just because they wear a uniform, every woman wants to sleep with them when really they aren’t interested,” She sighed, staring at you. “How about we start another game then?”

“Um...yeah, let’s do it.”

______

“YN, why can’t you let me win for once?” Carol whined, leaning against her pool cue.

“Practice more, and then maybe you'll have a chance,” you smirked, feeling better after a couple of shots and another beer later.

You lined up to sink the number 8 ball in the corner pocket when someone out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. You gulped, turning your head in their direction to find Fireman Rogers. “You’re sort of ruining my concentration with your staring.”

“Didn’t know I had that effect on you.”

You scoffed, taking the shot and missing the pocket. “That’s on you.” You didn’t miss the slight nod from him and the ever-growing grin appearing on Carol’s face, watching the two of you interact.

“Ouch!” He held a hand over his heart, smirking at you.

You watched Carol sink one of her three remaining stripes into the pocket but failed to get the other two in. You nodded to yourself, setting yourself up to get the number 8 ball in the same corner pocket. Shooting a quick glare towards Steve, he held up his hands, trying to hide his smile by taking a sip of his beer. You hit the white ball, sending it right towards the number 8 ball, sinking it into the corner pocket.

“Well...that’s game. Rogers, you’re up. Time for you to take on the champ.” Carol walked over to him, forcing the pool cue to his chest until he grabbed it, and she shot you a quick wink over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

“Smooth,” you whispered under your breath.

“What was that?” Steve questioned, leaning a little closer to you.

“Bring it, Rogers.”

_______

With one last hit, the number 8 ball sunk into the center pocket. “And with that, the champ remains the champ. Good game though, you weren’t...bad.”

“Not bad, huh? Maybe you caught me on an off day.”

“Will save the rematch for another day then.” You put the pool cue back on the wall and went to your usual table, taking a seat on one of the high stools. You take a sip of your beer, noticing Steve taking the chair across from you.

“How did you get so good at pool?”

“I worked at a bar in college and got really good at it. Even hustled a few people to get some extra cash.”

“Did they deserve it?” He asked with a chuckle. 

“Of course,” you smirked, taking a sip of your drink. Your eyes traveled around the bar, spotting your brother with a group of ladies. It still baffled you how he could finagle himself into any group, whether it was to make friends or take someone home. In this incident, it looked to be taking someone home. Thor wrapped his arm around one of the ladies and headed out the door.  “Well, I’m in no rush to get home now.”

“Why is that?”

“My brother just walked out the door with his latest conquest.” His eyes traveled to the door. “Now in the morning, I will have to make small talk with her, and poor Darryl is gonna have to hear them…” you shake your head, not finishing the sentence. “Good thing I got him noise-canceling headphones.”

“Good thing.”

“How are you liking the 107 so far?”

“It’s...” Steve started only to be interrupted by Sam.

“Okay, so Thor just left with the woman I was hitting on all night. Can’t your brother give another brother a chance,” Sam added, taking a swig of his beer. 

“That’s my brother for…”

“Steve, I heard you just got your ass handed to you in pool. Way to go, girl.” Bucky held up his hand, and you high-fived him. “Steve’s good. He always kicks my ass.”

“Well, that’s because you suck at it,” Sam added.

“Well, at least I can get a woman to go home with me.”

“That’s cold.”

“You can’t get every woman to go with you,” Nat added, taking the stool next to yours.

“Wanna bet.” Bucky licked his lips, earning a scoff from Nat. “Listen here, everyone. I am about to share Mr. Barnes Fling Tips 401. That’s right, this is senior college level, no freshman 101.” He takes a drink of his beer. “First: Get the lovely woman’s attention; catch her eye at the bar, smile at her, send her a drink, whatever you need to do to get her to notice you. Number two: once she notices you, disappear for a little while to see if she looks for you. Then, when she least expects it, go over to her and introduce yourself. Then, this is where the real flirting happens; smirk at her, put a hand on her thigh, bite your lip, any of the telltale signs you’re interested. Then finally, she will take your hand, and that’s when you take her home. We both have meaningless sex and then move on. We both get exactly what we wanted.”

“You’re terrible.” Nat rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Says the female version of me,” he smirked.

“You wish, because then maybe, just maybe, I would give you the time of day and sleep with you. But, you’re not worth it. I don’t think I could ever sink low enough to sleep with you.”

“Ouch, doll, ouch.” He held his hand over his heart, feigning hurt in his eyes.

“I would feel bad, but we both know you don’t have a heart when it comes to women.”

“One right after another. You’re on fire, Red.”

“I don’t have time for this. Come on, YN, let's go get another drink.” Nat grabbed your hand and pulled you to the bar with her.  

“Is it just me, or was that a whole lotta sexual tension right there?” Sam asked Steve as soon as Bucky stormed off.

“I would say so,” Steve nodded in agreement.

________

You classified yourself as a people watcher, and you always found it interesting to watch people interact with one another. You'd often see the people looking to hookup. A bachelorette party with an overly flirty bride to be who may or may not make a mistake tonight. Those people who came out to drink for fun; those that drink because they have a problem; the new parents that needed to get out of the house, or the couple still getting to know one another. You never met any of these people in your life, but you couldn’t help but create their life story. 

It was like the couple sitting close together in the booth to your right. They were falling for each, whether they planned it or not. It was easy to tell with the way they looked at each other. You felt that way once, too. The feeling that you and him were the only two in a crowded room. You thought it was love, but looking back, maybe it was something different. Something toxic, like a poisonous gas entering the air without you knowing, and sooner or later, you're gasping, trying to find the last bit of oxygen. But, it’s no use because you’re trapped, and every breath you take only makes you weaker and unable to move, and eventually, it ends up taking everything from you. 

“Hi, again.” Steve takes a seat on the stool next to you at the bar, pulling you out of your head. “Everyone keeps leaving me, and I didn’t want to look like that loser in the bar sitting by himself.”

“So you came over to join me? Who was sitting by herself looking like a loser?”

“Yeah, but now we can be losers together,” he chuckled, making you smirk. 

“Speak for yourself,” you chuckled, picking at the label on the beer bottle.“You and Bucky became fast friends.”

“Yeah, well, we have known each other since we were kids.”

“Wait, you grew up here?” You turned your heads towards him, narrowing your eyes at him.

“No in Brooklyn. Brooklyn, New York.”

“Get out--” you hit him on the arm “--I used to live in Brooklyn.” 

“Really? Small world,” he smiled, leaning in a little closer to you to hear you better over the music playing on the jukebox. “What made you move out here?” 

“Story for another time,” you pointed the tip of your beer bottle at him. 

He nodded, “So why a 9-1-1 dispatcher?”

“You’re full of questions, aren’t you, Steve?” 

He shrugged with a small chuckle. “A few.”

“Did you get dragged out tonight, too?” You asked, taking a sip of your beer.

“What makes you think that?”

“Think it was so our friends could get a little action.” Your eyes traveled around the bar to see Bucky leaving with a redhead, and Nat had her hand on a guy's bicep with a flirty expression on her face. You had no idea where Carol went, and Sam must’ve left after realizing his luck ran out. Poor guy.

“So it would seem,” he smirked, glancing around the room. 

You felt your phone vibrate, and you glanced down, seeing a message from Nat. 

Nat: Heading out! Hope you can find a way home ;)

YN: Yeah, it’s called an Uber

Nat: (rolling eyes emoji)

“And with that, my ride just left.” You locked your phone, sliding it back into your pocket.

“Yeah, my ride left about five minutes ago.” Steve sighed, staring at his beer bottle. “What do you say about getting out of here?” 

You glanced at him underneath your eyelashes. “I hope you know you're not getting in my pants.” 

“Oh, I know, I didn’t mean it like that, but maybe another time,” he winked, forcing you to crack a smile. 

“Smooth, Rogers. Smooth,” you commented. “And here I thought you were a goody-to-shoes.”

“Most people do, but I am far from it.”

“I am seeing that now,” you chuckled, swallowing the little bit left in your drink. He nodded, glancing around the bar. “Are you ready?”

“For what?” 

“To get out of here?”

“I didn’t mean…” His head snapped to you with raised eyebrows.

“I know, another time,” you teased, seeing the corner of his mouth turn up. “Are you coming because your half-full beer says otherwise?”

He looked at it, then back over at you. Something in his blue eyes shifted from playful to curious in a matter of seconds. “Let's blow this popsicle stand,” Steve smirked, downing the rest of his drink. 

“Easy there, don’t want to have to carry you out of here,” you commented as he reached behind him and slipped on his jacket. 

“Haha.”

You felt the chill in the air as soon as you walked out the front door of the bar. It felt like fall was just around the corner, and it only brought goosebumps to your skin.  

“How far is home?” Steve asked.

“About thirty blocks north, but you don’t have to walk with me. I just figured you didn’t want to look like a loser sitting at the bar by yourself.”

“Thanks, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t mind. I have nothing waiting for me at home, and this way, you have some company.”

“Or do you just not want me to get mugged or something?”

“Maybe that too,” he chuckled, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. “So you live with your brother? Why don’t you have your own place?” 

“I’ve been looking, and I did find one I love. The only problem is I don’t know what to say to Thor.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand.” He added. “It will probably be hard for him at first, but it’s always hard to start over,” Steve mumbled like he knew from his own experience. 

“Yeah, but you haven’t experienced softie Thor.”

“Softie Thor?”

“Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but he still sleeps with his baby blanket. He calls it Mjolnir, and it has all kinds of different hammers and tools on it. He says he doesn’t have it anymore, but the last time I saw it, it was hiding under his pillow.”

“Really?” he smiled, shaking his head. “The big guy. Yay, tall--” he gestured with his hand “--blonde hair, god-like deep voice girls fall for, and he still sleeps with a blankety?” You nodded. “Yeah, I can say I have never seen that side of him.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

You rubbed your upper arms, hoping to keep the chill at bay but having little to no success. You always seemed to forget to grab a jacket before going out. “Why did you transfer to LA from Brooklyn?”

“Now, look who is full of questions?”

“Call me curious.” You shrugged, catching his eye before his return back to the ground.

“Fine, but then you have to answer one of my questions.” You nodded. “Okay, well, I transferred because I needed a new start after some bad stuff went down.”

“Why, what happened?”

“Trying to pull a fast one on me. I like it, but my turn.” You let out an annoyed sigh. “What did you do when you lived in Brooklyn?”

“Fair question." You nodded. "I was an ER nurse. It was both stressful and satisfying at the same time. On the one hand, I didn’t know what was going to come through the doors, but on the other hand, bringing someone back on the brink of dying gave me a rush. I can’t even explain the feeling; I loved my job.”

“Then, why leave?”

“I needed a fresh start.” You glanced over at him, and he nodded, biting his lip. “Looks like we left for the same reason.” 

“Maybe this is fate's way of telling us we both deserve a second chance.” 

“If you believe in that sort of thing,” You shivered, running your hands over your arms to get them to warm up. 

“Here.” Steve started pulling off his worn-out brown leather jacket and offering it to you.

“No, you keep it. I don’t want you to get cold.”

“Don’t worry about me? I’m like a body heater.”

“Fine, but if you get cold, you better tell me.” You slipped it on, feeling the warmth envelop you. His scent on his jacket made your insides twist. You pulled it tight around you, feeling your body warm up in an instant. 

“I will,” he smiled, putting his hands in his pants pockets, shrugging.

You walked in silence for a block or so when you stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the walking figure to appear. “What was it like growing up in Brooklyn with Bucky?”

He chuckled. “Well, it’s a funny story actually because it all started in grade school.” He glanced at you as if asking if he wanted to hear it. “I was drawing on the playground one day at recess. And at the time, I was a sickly little kid, and my mom told me I couldn’t play sports because I had a lot of health problems when I was younger before I became this.” He gestured to himself, making you roll your eyes. “Anyways, I was drawing, and these bullies came over and stood in my light and poured water over my notebook…”

“Those assholes.”

“Yeah, right,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head. The crosswalk person appeared, and they started walking again. “I was never one to back down from a fight, so I stood up to him. He pushed me, and I fell, but I got back up and tried to push him, but ended up getting pushed down again, this time landing in a mud puddle. Then, Bucky came over, and straight-up punched this dude in the face. I think we were six at the time.”

“Oh my god, are you kidding?” Your mouth dropped over, and you covered it with your hand.

“Wish I was. Bucky told him to pick on someone his own size and sent him crying. After that, we became pretty good friends.”

“Do you still have the never run from a fight mentality?” You eyed him over and noticed him keeping a close eye on you.

“Yeah, I just don’t like bullies.” He shrugged as comfortable silence fell between the two of you once again. “You said you needed a fresh start. What were you running from?” You stared hard at the ground, biting your lip, not sure if you wanted to lay it all out for him. “Question for another time. How about a counter-question,” he hummed, thinking it over as you watched him mull over what to ask next. “How was it growing up with Thor?”

“Thor and I were never close growing up, which is crazy considering I live with him now. He was my older brother, he had his friends he always hung out with, and I was the younger sister. What older sibling wants to hang out with their younger sibling unless their parents ask them to? We got along, but I grew up being close with our adopted brother Loki. When Thor graduated from high school, he tried college but found it wasn’t for him, and then one day decided to move to LA and become a firefighter. After he moved, I didn’t talk to him much. Loki and I stayed in Brooklyn, I got my nursing degree, and he went into Broadway production. We were a scattered out set of siblings, living on two different coasts.”

“If you and Thor were never close, why move here and live with him?”

“I knew he would help me find myself again.” 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Thor was the brother that wasn’t afraid to make a fool of himself to get me to laugh or feel better. He could get things off my mind when I needed to, plus he’s easy to talk to. Loki’s more of the conservative brother that has a plan and can be a diva at times. I love them both, but I knew starting here would be the fresh start I needed.” You shrugged in his jacket. “I think you owe me at least three extra questions.” 

“Depends what you qualify as a question.”

“Oh, is that how it’s gonna be, wise guy.” You pushed him on the arm. “My turn to ask, let’s see, hmmm.” You tapped your chin with your finger. “How did you and my brother bond so fast?”

“I don’t know. It’s what you have to do in this job, trust your team. Besides, like you said, your brother is easy to get along with after you get past his ego.”

“He does have a big ego,” you nodded with a chuckle.

“What’s the hardest part about being a 911 dispatcher?”

“Really? Already asking a question. I think you still owe me a couple, but I’ll oblige.” You took in a deep breath and let it out, thinking it over. “When the caller hangs up, and you never know what the outcome is. Like, am I making a difference, am I helping? Being a nurse, I knew the outcome because I was there for everything, but here, all you can do is send help. I could look at the records and see what happened, but what if it’s not the outcome I hoped for.” You stared at the ground in front of you. “It’s almost like never finding out an ending to a movie or a book. I want to know what happened, but maybe it’s better left not knowing. After they hang up, sometimes you don’t get time to process it because there is another caller with another emergency.” 

“I get it. Sometimes what we do can be a horror movie. It can give us nightmares if you can’t save someone or can’t get there in time,” Steve’s voice drifted off. “You can play it over in your head to figure out what you could’ve done differently, but sometimes the ending you wanted to happen was never going to happen.” He stared wide-eyed at the ground before glancing your way. There was something different in his eyes, like a nightmare he never quite escaped. “And you’re right, it’s one call after another with little to no recovery time in between.”

“But, then you get those calls where everything goes right, and it makes everything you’re doing worth it.” You shot him a warm smile, earning a nod from him.

“Have to say I agree with that.”

Both of you remained silent for a couple of blocks. These careers were tough to talk about. Everyone called you heroes, but sometimes it was hard to feel like a hero.

“Why did you want to be a fireman?”

“Simple, I like helping people, but like any job, it takes a toll.” He shrugged, glancing at you. “When your adrenaline is pumping, and every nerve in your body is firing. There is pressure put on us, and we never know how things will turn out, but we have to assure those we are trying to save that they are going to be okay. It’s like in a moment's notice we have to drop everything because we are the only help that is coming, and we have to try and save them from what could be the worst moment in their life.”

“It’s almost like you rehearsed that. Did you...did you rehearse that?” You joked, forcing him to crack a smile.

“Shut up, so what if I did.” He nudged your side, making you laugh out loud. It was a real laugh, the kind you haven’t had in a long time. It wasn’t a simple chuckle or a forced giggle, but for the first time in a long time, it sounded happy. Maybe, this is what Bruce was talking about when he told you to talk to someone. Weirdly enough, you did feel lighter, like some of the weight was lifted off your shoulders with this one conversation. 

You came to a stop in front of a cozy little townhouse Thor and Darryl rented. It wasn’t huge. It was a two-bedroom home that an elderly couple raised their little girl, Hope, in. You only met Hank Pym and Janet van Dyne a few times, but they were a lovely couple that decided to rent out that home and retire next to the ocean. 

“This is me.” You waved your hand at the house and started pulling off Steve’s jacket when he stopped you. 

“Hold on to it for me.  I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

“Awful sure of yourself, what makes you think I want to see you again?”

“A guy can hope, can’t he. If it helps, my jacket looks a hell of a lot better on you.” 

“It’s helping,” you breathed a smirk, pulling the jacket around you. “Goodnight, Steve. Thanks for the talk and the walk home.”

“Glad I could help. Have a nice night, YN,” he waved, watching you walk up the steps and use your keys to unlock the door. You opened the door and turned around to find him waiting for you to safely get inside. 

“I want you to know, I am still holding you to answer one question,” you added, opening the door wider.

“Look forward to answering it,” he smiled as you walked in and shut the door behind you.

______

AN: Thanks for reading Part 5! This is probably a chapter you all have been waiting for...more Steve action! Haha! What did you think of the round of twenty questions?! We got a little bit more backstory on her, and a little more about Steve. He left to get a new start, too, any theories as to why?! I mean, I know, but I'm curious where your heads are at! Also, I don't know much about billiards/pool rules, it's basically what I have learned through watching people play it, so if it’s totally off my bad! Again, thanks for reading, reblogs, likes, and comments always welcome!

[majimemegoro]

just finished watching a playthrough of saejima's hunting storyline and i get why you like okudera so much now. he's a pretty minor character in the eyes of the game's main storyline but damn, he's genuinely really compelling, alongside the entire hunting storyline...i really fuckin like this dude now. anyways, i wanted to ask, do you know of a timeline or anything of his backstory? cause its. a little confusing for me to understand

WE CAUGHT ONE LADS

jokes aside I'm so glad you watched, so glad you liked it, and so glad you took the time to let me know. for anyone else who wants the chance to discover the joy of MR OKUDERA, whether or not you have a ps4 or steam, you can do that here.

as for the backstory timeline... buckle up, because it's convoluted as heck. We learn about the events of 9 years ago partially through the false story of the villagers and partially from okudera (whose tell-all story at the end is also, I think, a bit cagey and perhaps deliberately vague). these in-text obstacles to determining The Truth are exacerbated by the fact that the remastered version has at least one egregious translation error, and hence the possibility of other errors.

But I've spent a LOT of time trying to figure out the timeline. like a stupid amount of time. and while i still plan to do a serious methodical review of the story and determine the possibilities once and for all, I'll take this as an opportunity to lay out what I currently figure is probably the case.

disclaimers: y5 spoilers for the okudera/hunting storyline follow. i also havent systematically reviewed the evidence before posting, so it's possible that there will be errors. if anyone notices them, PLEASE point them out! meanwhile I will do my best to specify what is fact and what is interpretation: events I am 99-100% sure of, and are stated more or less explicitly in the text, will go in normal text, while I'll put my own filling-in-the-blanks and original notes in [square brackets]. I have some pretty detailed personal headcanons to do with these events, but I will NOT bring them up. Here I promise I will only bring up speculation that has a textual basis and is strictly necessary to fill in the gaps of the accounts given by mr okudera and the other vilalgers.

I will refer from now on to mr okduera as Sato, and to og okudera as okudera.

~10 years ago

the upcoming changes to hunting regulations are announced, and a hunting boom begins on the mountain [this could be more than 10 years ago]

sato breaks out of Abashiri, either crashes or abandons his snowmobile, and is saved by okudera

[Nishina recovers the snowmobile at some point]

okudera teaches sato how to hunt "as I (sato) was losing hope of living"

meanwhile the natural balance on the mountain is decaying due to overhunting, and bears are becoming vicious

~9 years ago, 6 months after sato's arrival in the village

yama-oroshi, the giant-size bear, is first spotted and starts causing trouble

~9 years ago

during a blizzard, okudera goes out after yama-oroshi. [the villagers give conflicting accounts of his intentions. i think sakurai says okudera wanted to help them, while nishina says he was after money. unclear whether sakurai is telling his honest opinion or a cover story]

sato goes around begging the villagers for food with "hat in hand" and is given some by mrs nishina [note that he apparently didn't have any, even though, if you accept this timeline, yama-oroshi hadn't yet attacked the village and destroyed its food stores. mrs nishina tells the story of okduera begging, and she doesnt specify when it happens, but i think it was probably here? not sure though.]

sato follows okudera into the mountain, intending to kill him

sato finds okudera; okudera reveals that he already knew sato was planning to kills him, and tells him that it's okay to carry out his mission

sato decides not to kill okudera

Okudera is attacked by Yama-oroshi. Sato passes out. [was he attacked???]

[okudera fights off yama-oroshi alone, defending the unconscious sato and succeeding in driving the bear away]

However okudera is grievously injured

Sato awakens on bloody snow. [presumably the site of the original attack, though its not for sure.] the dying okudera holds his hand and tells him to take his name and continue living in order to atone for both of their crimes.

[at some point here okudera presumably dies. it is possible that sato buries him at this time, but perhaps more likely that sato immediately follows yama-oroshi, who is headed towards the village, presumably having been driven in that direction during the fight against sato. saving the village from a demon bear would seem like a good way to begin atoning for a life of crime.]

Yama-oroshi attacks the village, ruining buildings and eating/destroying all of the food stored up for the winter, including the buried food

(still 9 years ago, but after this the order of events gets really fuzzy. the remaining events may shift slightly in order, depending on one's stance on the next bullet)

sato saves the village somehow [this bit is really vague. possibly this comment is referring to ways in which sato helped revitalize the matagi principles of conservation and mutual aid in the village. but I think it is more likely that he did something more concrete, namely, luring yama-oroshi away from the village. otherwise why did Yama-oroshi leave before killing anyone? someone did something, I think, and I think it was sato.]

[sato reports to the villagers that okudera ("sato") is missing - probably NOT that he is dead. the villagers then presumably report this to the police, since sato cannot be seen by the police, who would surely recognize and escapee from Abashiri.] [Note that sakurai tells saejima that sato (mr okduera) went into the mountain after og okudera BECAUSE og okudera was already missing, but I don't think this makes sense unless it's part of the fake cover story. it's also possible that sato told the villagers okudera was missing & he was following him for that reason, since he wouldnt have admitted he was planning to kill him...]

[some of] the villagers realize or suspect that sato/”okudera” is the escaped convict. [because they would know WHEN sato showed up, and when the escape occurred, and they would know that the bigger guy who disappeared had been with them for too long to be the escapee]

the villagers decide to protect sato (”okudera”) by secretly following him on the mountain, and by shunning him so that they have an excuse for not knowing him well and hence not reporting his identity to the police.

[it seems that Sato never admits to the villagers that he knew okudera died. OR the villagers pretend not to believe that okudera is dead?? which is weird since youd think after almost a decade, “went missing on the mountain during a blizzard” would entail “presumed dead”... but i digress]

the village spends the rest of the winter and perhaps longer on the “brink of starvation”

at some point the new hunting regulations go into effect.

and that's the events of 9-10 years ago, as near as I can figure them.

Thoughts? questions? me too !!! please speak up, and thanks for the ask, comrade.

here is a user badge for you:

[wasteland-photography]

I’ve recently taken up fallout 4 based photography after getting inspired by your blog.

However, I’ve noticed that my photos experience a notice dip in sharpness and quality if I edit them (such as to make more centred). I suspect it’s probably a compression issue but wondering if you’ve encountered similar problems

Hey, thanks for the ask! I'm absolutely delighted to hear that someone was inspired by my work, and I would love to see it sometime if you'd ever like to send it my way.

Unfortunately, just about any time you alter or save an image in a JPEG format (the default for Steam screenshots), there will be some compression. Most websites such as facebook, instagram, and tumblr also tend to compress their images upon upload as well, which can be pretty frustrating at times.

If you're doing any heavy editing or screenarchery, here are some of my personal recommendations:

Avoid saving or altering the same image multiple times - instead make each save a new file, such as "screenshot-2, screenshot-3", ect. This will also allow you to compare different versions, or revert back to an older version if necessary.

Saving the image as a PNG, rather than a JPEG - this will result in less compression. However, the downside is that the file size will be pretty big, so it will take longer to upload, and can sometimes take longer to load on slower computers.

If you are doing anything to alter the original size of the image such as zooming or cropping: I highly recommend trying to keep the image the same aspect ratio. Or at least try to stick to one of the more common aspect ratios (such as 16:9, 4:3, ect). This seems to reduce some of the quality issues when uploading to a website.

If you still want to use JPEG, I recommend using Photoshop (which is fairly easy to acquire a legitimate copy of, recommend using a VPN just in case) and choosing the "High" quality option when prompted. I personally use around 8, and haven't seen any noticeable drops in quality.

Bumping up the in-game shadow/lighting quality or using an ENB can also be useful, as it can help "soften" some of the sharper edges, and reduce pixellation.

I also rely on a lot on in-game mods such as iHUD, which will allow you to hide or toggle menu elements such as the compass when not in use, and reduce the need to crop or edit many images almost entirely.

As stated previously however, any kind of alteration will still affect the image quality in some way. For that reason, recently I have been trying to avoid zooming or cropping my images almost entirely, and have mostly been relying on Photoshop to remove any unnecessary or distracting elements. But I know that's not an option for everybody.

Anyway, sorry for the text wall, but I hope this helps! Note that I am only speaking from personal experience, and am hardly a professional. So if there's anyone out there who knows more about photography than me, feel free to correct me or add to this post.

[lilachope-archive]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

tagged by: Nobodeh :v

tagging: whoever wants to do this

My muse is:

canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated

Ehh, it's kinda weird. She's an au version of a canon character, but still 'mostly' follows the canon of the source material

Is your character popular in the fandom?

YES / NO / IDK.

Going by the games, anime and such; I would say yes

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?

YES / NO / IDK.

I would be lying if I said no

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?

YES / NO / IDK.

It depends on who you ask, not gonna go into power levels  cause fuck that shit

Are they underrated?

YES / NO / IDK.

Actually I've heard people say that Trunks is overrated in some cases.

Were they relevant for the main story?

YES / NO / SORT OF

Yeah, for like two arcs to my knowledge

Were they relevant for the main character?

YES / NO / IDK

I mean, Goku would still be dead if he wasn't given the heart medicine. Hell, I'd almost go as far as to say that Trunks is the real hero of the series (granted Bulma was the one who made the medicine, but still.. someone had to deliver it )

Are they widely known in their world?

YES / NO. / SORT OF

Ehh, I wouldn't widely, but still well known to an extent. 

How’s their reputation?

GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL

Not sure how to answer this, but it depends on who you ask I guess

How strictly do you follow canon?

 YES / NO / SORT OF

Well I try to follow as much as I can, which is maybe at least 90 percent with a bit of my shit sprinkled in

SELL YOUR MUSE!

For the low, low price of 99999999999999 zeni, you can have your very own princess trunks!! :D... oh sorry, that's not what you meant.

Uhmm, I got nothing except for the typical she nice and stuff :/

Now the OPPOSITE list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).

She's a female version of a male character, which makes her an automatic repellent and unable to be 'simped' over

What inspired you to rp your muse? 

Fanworks. Fanart, doujins and fanfics. Plus it helps that I like Trunks as a character, so there's that.

What keeps your inspiration going?

Rewatching clips or watching gameplay videos of any of the DB games tend to help.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Do you think you give your character justice?

YES / NO /SORT OF

I mean, I try to not stray too far from her canon counterpart in terms of personality, so I think I'm doing a good enough job. Better that how I was doing when I first played her back in 2015

Do you frequently write headcanons?

YES / NO / SORT OF

I used to make short little headcanons pretty often, but then I ran out of steam xD

Do you sometimes write drabbles?

YES / NO.

It's very rare that I do nowadays, mainly because I tend to never have anything to write about

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?

 YES / NO / SORT OF

Not often, but it does happen

Are you confident in your portrayal?

 YES / NO /SORT OF

I wouldn't still be playing her if I wasn't

Are you confident in your writing?

YES / NO / SORT OF

I'll admit that I'm not the best writer, but I do think I'm decent enough to get by

Are you a sensitive person?

YES / NO 

I can't say that I am, I don't get bent out of shape over the most minute things so take that as you see fit

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?

 YES / NO 

If the criticism involves changing something about my character that's a core part of her, then yeah no they can go somewhere else with that shit. I made my character the way she is for a reason and I'm not going change her to fit someone else's preference

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?

Oh yes, absolutely! I'm always eager to answer questions about her

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?

I don't see any point in telling me cause I ain't changing shit whether someone likes it or not. 

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?

I kinda don't give a shit. They can find another Trunks roleplayer whose fits their preference and not bother me about it

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?

k bye felicia. Block button exist for a reason, use it and leave me alone

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?

I don't mind as long as it's not in a rude arse way. just a simple 'hey, you spelled this wrong' will do

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?

Pretty much. I even consider myself dull on occasion because of how chill and quiet I am most of the time. As long as you don't come to me with stupid shit, we're good.

[planetesastraea]

On the tip of his fingers

Geraskier, Modern AU -  Mature - 6 277 words - Warnings: none

First meetings, himbo Geralt, bisexual Geralt (even if he’s just finding out), bottom Geralt (that too), top Jaskier, first time, handjobs, banter, praise kink, consent kink

Betaed by Micaela Dawn: she’s a wonderful artist and beta, check out her work!

Read on AO3

-

The bar was oddly crowded for a Wednesday night and Geralt was trying his best to not look as out of place as he felt. He had to be there, were Yen's words. And once Triss and Sabrina heard he was trying to get out of the team’s celebratory night out, his fate had been sealed.

"You deserve this too," Yen had said. “You’ve been working your ass off as much as we’ve all been and you deserve to blow off some steam.” 

“I can blow off some steam at home.”

“Playing Skittles-stake Gwent with our teenage daughter doesn’t count. Also you promised you’d spend more time with the team outside of  work-”

“I actually never agreed to that,” 

“-so you’re coming.” 

  And so here he was, wearing one of his black button down shirts and a comfortable pair of jeans with an empty beer bottle in his hand, making casual conversation over the slightly too-loud music and praying to the highest powers that the girls wouldn’t try to get him to dance. Triss and Yen had met him in front of the bar to make sure he wouldn’t turn away once he had a look inside the place. As soon as he had been close enough, Triss had reached a hand out to his collar, making a tsk sound. 

“What are we going to do with you, hm?”, she had whispered to herself as she had opened the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled his collar a little wider. 

“Hey, be gentle,” Yen had cut in softly. “At least he lost the tie.” 

They had cackled in unison as he rolled his eyes, yet unable to fake annoyance as a smile drew itself on his lips. With one of the women clinging to each of his arms, the three of them comfortably slid together as they walked into the place. 

He liked being around them. Over the years things had been several levels of complicated and then some, but the three of them had found their pace eventually. Triss and Yen liked to mock him and he liked to act dumber than he actually was- well, most of the time. His social skills still didn’t reach that high.

As it turned out, you could learn a lot about people by staying at the office several nights in a row working a gigantic case, taking turns on who would get to doze off for twelve minutes on the couch and who was to blame for the soy sauce on page 86 of the Claremont contract. And damn did Triss and Yen know him well. Which was why they had dutifully waited for him outside the bar. Claiming he looked for them but gave up because of how packed the place was would definitely have been among his top three excuses to go back home and relieve Eskel of his Uncle duties. (Both he and Ciri would have been terribly disappointed and that was about 75% of the reasons why he had made it to the party).

  They had been here for a couple of hours now, had done a good amount of talking and heard some more-than-other alright bands take to the stage. One of the junior associates further away from him called “Hey, here’s Sabrina!!” and Geralt turned towards the sound of Sabrina’s voice going “You guys are not going to believe this!” when something, or, well, someone, slammed right into him.

“Owww, holy shit I’m so sorry, you alright?” 

The man was carrying two pints that had probably been full to the brim before he collided with Geralt. Luckily most of what spilled had hit the floor (he didn't need a repeat of the 2017 "Wet-Shirt Contest Winner" from when a sink pipe had blown up in the men's room. Lambert had walked in, taken a thousand pictures and emailed memes to the whole floor for weeks). 

Geralt’s shoes had been fairly sticky with booze already so it wasn't much trouble. 

“I’m fine,” he said and that’s when he noticed the other man had come to a full stop, eyes locked on him intently, lips slightly parted. The eyeliner around his eyes was a bit smeared and Geralt recognized him as one of the singers from earlier. 

“That you are,” he murmured in a low tone, almost to himself. Geralt blinked.

“Yes. I am,” he said back louder in hope to maybe clear out the odd look on the other man’s face. Just because he was tall, well-built and, well, apparently, somewhat broody, people expected him to get pissed at the slightest things. 

“I’m Julian," the guy said and Geralt smiled politely, unsure why the stranger would introduce himself.

“Geralt,” he replied at the same time Julian went “But you can call me Jaskier!” and then “I’m sorry, what was that?” 

It was like his words were running faster than his thoughts.

“Geralt. My name is Geralt,” he repeated.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, Geralt.” Jaskier’s lips rose to one side and he tilted his head slightly. Geralt was way more used to people trying to avoid looking at him, he had his unusual colored eyes to thank for that. They were easily disturbing and while people didn't always show discomfort, they at least showed restraint. Jaskier didn't have an ounce of it and Geralt had absolutely no idea what to do with that. 

“Can I get you another drink?” Jaskier blurted out. 

“Mine was already empty. That’s your drink on the floor,” Geralt replied as the other man chuckled, eyes looking down briefly.

“Right,” he raised his eyes and licked his lips. “Offer still stands. Can I get you another drink?”

“Hm,” Geralt said, his well-known wording skills kicking in. “My friends are-” he turned around thinking he’d find Anica and Tiff where he had left them only to realise they had disappeared among the crowd. In the far back he recognized Triss and Yen dancing on a table like nothing in the world could stop them and any back-up plan he was about to use evaporated. 

Jaskier raised his eyebrows, eyes twinkling. Give other people a chance, Yen’s voice said in Geralt's head and the line of his shoulders softened. Jaskier’s eyes hadn’t moved from him for even a second. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. 

“Sure,” Geralt aimed for a neutral tone but sounded nervous even to his own ears. The other man’s smile widened. 

  They found two empty stools that felt oddly closer than those in Geralt’s bars usually were - but then again most of Geralt’s bars were hotel lobbies on work trips or the kind where he could take a whole bottle for himself and sit in a corner where no one would dare bother him. (He hadn't been in one of those in a while. He didn’t miss it.)

Jaskier set an ale in front of him and Geralt faintly wondered who it was originally destined for. 

“So what are you doing here tonight? I’ve never seen you around,” Jaskier started. 

“Celebrating,” he said, in a voice that hardly sounded celebratory. 

“Is it your birthday?”

“No,” he replied, vaguely gesturing to his group of friends who were lost to the crowd, “with colleagues. We closed in on a deal." 

"What kind of business do you work in?" The other man seemed way more interested in learning about Geralt than actually drinking the ale. Geralt shrugged, a wordless version of his usual ‘hm’.  

“All of them. We're a law firm.”

“Oh! Well, congrats by the way!" Jaskier said and then leaned in and using a secretive tone he added, "I mean, you didn’t help a dangerous criminal get away with it, did you?”

Geralt grimaced and prepared himself to lose Jaskier’s interest in his job entirely. 

“Not that kind of lawyers.” 

“What kind, then?” 

“Corporate.”

To his surprise, Jaskier kept nodding.

“So what was the deal about? Please tell me you’re the kind of firm on David’s side and not on Goliath's.”

“It’s rarely as straightforward as that,” Geralt mused and took a drink of his ale.

Jaskier hummed softly.

“What was this one anyway?” 

“I can’t disclose any details,” he hedged and Jaskier chuckled. 

“Oh, you can’t disclose any details, can you?” he leaned again, this time his arm and shoulder pressing against Geralt's. 

“No, I can’t,” Geralt articulated again to make sure Jaskier would hear him. Music rarely ever left anyone’s hearing intact after a few years, maybe that was why the man kept leaning closer. 

“Anything I’ll hear about on the news?”

“The local ones, maybe.”

“Well aren't you a man of mystery.” Their shoulders bumped again. Geralt didn't remember at which point he had rolled up his sleeves but his forearms felt oddly comfortable being that close to someone else's skin. It had been a while since he had even given thought to someone else's skin.

There was still a band playing on the stage out of his sight, a crowd surrounding them, people all along the bar calling for the bartender’s attention, noises and lights everywhere and yet, somehow, in the ocean of stimuli, his attention was focused on Jaskier.

"Maybe I should take your number then?" Jaskier said, wriggling an eyebrow. "As legal counsel. For when law enforcement catches up with me." 

“What would they catch you for?” he asked, willing to take the bait. 

“Oh, there’s quite the list,” Jaskier said. “I’m afraid I have a rather criminal past. There’s the illegal bus riding, parking in client-only spots,” he counted on his fingers, adding each theatrically. “I once shook a vending machine to get my chocolate bar and got a second one I didn’t pay for.”

“Hmm. I think you might get away with those,” Geralt answered, taking a drink from his pint.

“Well I guess all is left is the case of indecent exposure.”

The man had a nonchalant demeanor about him but his eyes were focused on Geralt and definitely didn't miss the way he almost choked on the ale. Geralt only then realised how much of Jaskier’s chest was visible. He registered vaguely how he’d never had an interest in other people’s collar bones before and realised he had forgotten where they were going with this. 

"Hmm,” he cleared his throat, trying to look unbothered. “Like I said, not my area of expertise."

He saw Jaskier lick his lips and something in his eyes reminded him of the decisive moment that came with all his negotiations. 

"How about we get out of here and you show me your area of expertise?" 

"What?" He couldn’t have heard that right. Jaskier’s eyes softened and his hand hovered over his bare forearm.

"I'm saying I want to take you home.” There was a beat and Geralt swallowed, the taste of ale still on his lips. His conversations with other people definitely didn’t go like that. The peak of panic might have been obvious on his face because Jaskier’s fingers touched his wrist and he spoke into his ear.  "I'm making a move on you, Geralt,” he said kindly, “and I don’t know if you’re too polite to decline or if I’m being too subtle-” he pulled back to look at him and his face was so fucking close. “Which, honestly, would be a first! So... What do you think?” 

What did he think? His mind was an uninhabited fish tank. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a light flicker. He blinked again, looking at Jaskier’s lips. His brain whispered pretty, and right then, because life always loved fucking with him, the lights and the music went out.

There was a deafening silence for a moment when everyone held their breath and then lights as bright as day came on. The crowd booed. "Oh for fuck's sake, it's the third time this month," Jaskier grumbled. “Sorry my dear but duty calls!” 

He stepped down from his stool only to hoist himself up onto the bar. "Not to worry, gentlepeople!" he called out like he was standing on a stage rather than a drink-sticky counter. "The lights will go down and the music back on again as soon as our beloved Essi, Mistress of the house, puts that freaking generator back on! And in the meantime, if you would please allow this humble bard to entertain you,” he took a dramatic bow and rose up again. “Someone please toss me a folk guitar; drinks are on me!"

The crowd cheered and Jaskier got down behind the bar as one of the crew members passed over the guitar. He went off in a cheery song some people started singing along to, bathing in the crowd's energy like he breathed that very element. 

Something funny and complicated was happening in Geralt's chest when a hand gently grabbed his arm.

"Come on, let's go!" Yen. "It was getting boring anyway!"

Geralt squinted at her.

"You were dancing on a table,"

"Yeah, exactly!" 

It didn’t make the slightest sense but most of his conversations with Yen ended with her radiating with knowledge and him feeling stupid anyway.

"I was talking with someone," he said and instantly felt like a small child very proud to say he made a friend.

"You were what?" her voice pitched up and Geralt could tell she was a bit on the tipsy side. "Where are they?" 

He looked around and back towards the other side of the bar where Jaskier was singing and playing among the crowd, flawlessly winking and flirting with every person around.

"You're right,” his voice sounded strained even to his own ears and he had to blame it on the sleepless nights. “Let's go."

  -

  It had been two weeks since they had secured the Jackdows contract and Geralt was still deep in paperwork. He'd taken yet another two-hour video call with Alveaenerle and he was starting to think that maybe Triss was right and the woman was mostly dealing with him for his looks rather than for the sake of legal liaison. 

He heard the elevator doors open and checked the clock. It wouldn’t be the first time he had worked through the whole night, only noticing at 4am when the janitor came in that he had forgotten to go home. Since then, he had promised Ciri he would try to get decent amounts of sleep while she was away at Yen’s and he didn’t like breaking his promises. 

When he looked through the glass wall of his shared office, however, he didn’t see the janitor. Instead, and he checked twice in case it might have been a case of insomnia-induced hallucination, Jaskier was standing in the hall. He seemed hesitant, looking right and left for any indication that he was in the right place until he saw Geralt through the office’s glass walls. 

They blinked at each other, seemingly unable to move until Jaskier slowly raised a hand and waved. Geralt kicked himself and walked out of his office. 

“Hey,” Jaskier said, looking a bit sheepish. "Remember me?"

“What are you doing here?” Geralt asked, straightforward as ever.

“Uh,” Jaskier said. “The security guy let me in. He must have thought I was a delivery boy or something. I uh, I got your favourite,” he raised a hand holding a paper bag that Geralt had been too distracted to notice. “From across the street? Oh! Your friend Tiff was at the bar. She said you were still at work so I thought you’d like to have dinner maybe? And like, not with me, necessarily, just, you gotta eat right?” His words were starting to run together, and Geralt didn’t see any end in sight. “And so I figured, the place across the street, they had to know your favourite. ‘Big lawyer man with long white hair’ doesn't fit many of their clients' profiles. Anyway, dinner. For you. I could stay too, if you want, I mean I am simply starving-” he emphasized the word and then looked panicked again. “Wait, was that a yes, by the way? You know who I am, right? Otherwise this is going to get so awkward-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted.

“Yes!" He beamed. "That's me. Jaskier."

“I’m still not sure what you’re doing here.”

Jaskier froze for a moment, losing his shine. “We didn’t get to finish that conversation the other night. I thought that maybe...” Balancing his weight from a feet to another, he looked younger in the office light. He didn't finish his sentence, and looked like he was waiting for Geralt to respond.

“I’m working.”

“Right.”

“I’m at work,” Geralt gestured back at his office.

“Yeah, I know, I just thought- I- You're right, this was a stupid idea. Invasive, even. God what am I doing-” he took a frantic step backwards, and then thrust out the paper bag in some sort of peace offering. “Well, you should have this anyway, I mean- you have to eat, right? I said that already. Did I say that already?” He put the paper bag down on the closest cubicle desk then started walking backwards. “Sorry for,” he gestured vaguely, ���showing up like that. Uh. It won’t happen again.” 

Jaskier turned around, starting towards the elevators with his hand rubbing the back of his neck, and Geralt thought he heard him swearing under his breath something that sounded very much like ‘such a fucking idiot’.

An uneasy feeling filled Geralt’s chest as he watched Jaskier walk away. He didn’t know what he was doing and he didn’t know what he wanted or why he wanted anything but he knew he didn't want this.

“Jaskier,” he called and felt so very glad no one else was working late on his floor. 

“Yeah?” Jaskier turned back instantly, his face lit up by a beacon of hope.

“Do you… Do you do this often?” he asked hesitantly and felt stupid about it as soon as he heard himself. There was a beat of Jaskier looking around at the empty place before he walked back towards Geralt slowly.

“Chasing down a guy I talked to for thirty minutes because I just can’t fucking stop thinking about him? No. No, I don’t. First time, actually.”

Geralt watched the musician, noting the soft, hopeful smile forming at the corner of his lips, the closing and opening of his hands at his sides, and the way the office light was reflecting in Jaskier’s eyes. 

“Twenty minutes? I need to wrap something up. Then I’m free. For dinner.” Geralt amended.

Jaskier let go of the breath he had been holding and a full smile slowly graced his face again.

“Sure. Take your time. We can heat up the food at my place.”

If twenty minutes had been a promise, Geralt would have broken it. Ten minutes later, he was done with work for the day and on his way to Jaskier’s.

  -

  “So which one are you?" Jaskier asked, leaning over his kitchen counter after discarding the take-away wrappings. "VGB or Morhen?” 

“Neither,”

“Oh. I thought you were.”

“Disappointed?”

Jaskier chuckled. “No. Well, a bit, I mean," he raised a shoulder lazily and faked disappointment, "I thought you were one of those big-shot lawyers.”

“I am. I’m just not a name partner.” 

"So you're a regular partner then?"

“Just barely." 

"Is that a thing?"

"Hmm." Geralt took a whole second to think about it and found himself oddly relaxed with answering the question. “I have a daughter.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice was oddly tight. 

“Yen and I have a deal. She leads the boat on the job side, excels and enjoys herself in the career she’s always wanted and worked so hard for. I pull the hours she needs me to but our focus is our daughter.”

“You and Yen.”

“Yes.”

"Wait, like Triss's dancing on tables Yenna?" Jaskier’s eyes were widening in realisation. 

"Yes."

"Is she Morhen?"

Geralt shook his head. "Vengerberg." 

"And she’s your ex."

"Yes."

“Are you still-”

“Friends, yes.”

Jaskier nodded slowly and seemed to be thinking about something. He put his glass away and leaned against the counter, closer to Geralt. “Do you know what you’re doing here, Geralt?” he asked so low it was almost a whisper. 

Geralt couldn’t help but cast a look at his lips. “Not really.”

Jaskier slowly slipped his hand up Geralt’s forearm and the hair at the back of his neck rose.

“I was thinking maybe I could kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

Geralt found himself suddenly very much too out of breath to answer.

"Geralt?"

"Yes."

"Yes, as in you're still with me or yes-"

"Both." Geralt interrupted before he had the chance to change his mind. 

Jaskier looked surprised for a second then stood up on his toes to close the small space that was left between them. He pressed his lips against Geralt's; chaste and dry and sweet. When was the last time Geralt had been kissed like that? With care?

Jaskier's lips moved with his and Geralt felt the tip of the other man’s tongue against his lower lip, asking for permission. He granted it without question.

"Geralt?"

Geralt kissed him again and couldn't help the sigh that escaped when Jaskier's teeth grazed against his lips. 

"Hmm?"

They shared another kiss.

"Couch?"

And another.

"Sure."

  They parted only for the short time it took Jaskier to walk around the kitchen island. He led Geralt to the couch, pushing him slightly backwards to make the man sit so he could straddle his lap. Jaskier’s hips were thinner than those of Geralt’s usual partners. His shoulders were larger, his back more muscled, his arms- his whole body was fucking delightful and yet so very different, so very new. 

"Jask?" 

A kiss.

"Yeah?" It was more of a sigh of pleasure against his lips than a whisper.

"Remember when you asked-" Fuck, it was good. "About my-" 

"Sorry, do you need me to stop?"

Something rumbled in Geralt’s chest, his voice almost a growl. 

"No."

His hand found the back of Jaskier's neck and they sort of crashed again into each other. They kissed and kissed again and Geralt just didn't want to stop but things had to be said.

"Expertise," he finally managed.

"What?" Jaskier let go of his mouth and came back again for a peck before he sat back on his ankles to look at Geralt. His lips were red, his hair in disarray, his hand still hot on the side of Geralt’s neck. Geralt was fucked.

"Expertise," Geralt said, sitting up a bit straighter, settling his hands on Jaskier’s hips. "The other night. You asked about my area of expertise."

"Uh. Right."

Jaskier had a look on his face like someone had just interrupted his hot make-out session to talk about corporate law. Geralt would know, that had happened to him more times than he would admit.

"This isn't it."

"What?" Jaskier looked bewildered. His face was an open book of unguarded emotions and it made Geralt want to kiss him even more. 

"My area of expertise. This isn’t it."

"Oh." Jaskier answered, distracted by a strand of hair that fell over Geralt's eyes. He plucked the strand up between deft fingers and tucked it behind Geralt’s ear. Then he blinked and backtracked. "Wait, kissing?"

"Men," Geralt said. "Men aren't my areas of expertise."

"Oh,” Jaskier said. His hand was suspended in the air behind Geralt’s ear. “Okay, you- Oh. Okay.” he whispered again, his hand dropping down to Geralt’s shoulder. 

Geralt wasn't sure why Jaskier was the one blushing.

Sexual orientation had never really been a topic of conversation for Geralt growing up. Emotions were already a complex enough subject to tackle, anything that went further than caring for his brothers was not recommended. Exploration was limited. As a young man, he had gone for what society told him were the easiest ways to get sexual release when he needed it (women) and then his life tangled with Yen's and other partners faded out from the realm of his interests. When Ciri had entered their life, his very own life had taken a whole new meaning. There was little that mattered except making his daughter happy. His own personal relationships were more of an afterthought. 

"Well," Jaskier started again. "We don't have to- I mean it's okay. It's good. It's all good, darling. Do you- Do you need a breather? Do you- do you even want to be here?"

"I followed you willingly, didn't I?" Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow. Jaskier chuckled.

“It’s just- What if I mess up and deter you from ever enjoying another penis ever again?" he exaggerated, the dramatic flair evident in every line of his body. Geralt snorted.

"Hey! I have a duty to the penis community and I take it very seriously," Jaskier continued as if Geralt hadn’t brushed the thought off.

"The penis community," Geralt repeated, fake awe dripping in his voice.

"The penis kingdom, actually."

"The penis continent." Geraly offered, helpfully.

"Oh, that reminds me, talking about dicks: Nilfgaard, yay or nay?"

"Argh, shut up," he grabbed Jaskier's face unceremoniously and Jaskier laughed in the kiss. His hand brushed Geralt’s cheek and everything about him seemed to slow down. Jaskier broke apart from him, a smile still on his lips, and looked at Geralt steadily like any doubt and hesitation were forgotten.

"Just tell me what you like, darling,” he said. 

"I like kissing you.” 

"That’s a good start," he replied and granted Geralt’s request.

Jaskier lay his hands on Geralt’s shoulders and the muscles melted under the soft weight of them. He raised onto his knees and pushed Geralt back into the couch. Jaskier was slightly taller kneeling over him, and Geralt found something delightful in having to look up at someone. 

Jaskier leaned in and caught Geralt’s lips between his. His kisses were softer, slower, deeper than a minute before. Like he was taking his time to enjoy every second, to make Geralt enjoy every second. One of Geralt’s hands moved from his hip to his lower back, inviting him closer, and Jaskier slid his hands around Geralt’s neck, arching slightly into the touch. There was an intimacy about it that Geralt hadn’t expected nor experienced in a long time. 

Jaskier pressed his forehead against his at every breath, his hands caressing Geralt’s cheeks, sliding into Geralt’s hair, slowly making him shiver. 

Jaskier’s arms were distracting. The shirt he’d been wearing on that evening at the bar hadn't given away any clue as to the gems that were hidden underneath those sleeves. There was something feral lying deep in Geralt’s belly that was definitely ready to be manhandled.

Geralt found himself sliding his hand under Jaskier’s shirt, feeling the hot skin under his fingers, tracing the muscles along his spine. 

Jaskier quickly got the message and took his shirt off between breathless kisses. He started tugging at the buttons of Geralt's shirt while Geralt’s hands made themselves at home on every inch of skin they could find. He felt goosebumps form on Jaskier’s skin and used the distraction to start laying kisses on his neck, licking and sucking the skin and taking note of the softest noises Jaskier made. The tip of his fingers slid down the hairs of Jaskier’s chest as he nibbled the man’s collarbone, and found one of his nipples on the way. Geralt caressed it tentatively and felt the shiver that went through Jaskier’s whole body when he did. Jaskier’s fingers pulled abruptly at his shirt. 

“Oh god, take your goddamn shirt off, please!” The request was more of a thready gasp than an actual sentence. Geralt laughed at his enthusiasm and finished unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Is this okay?” Jaskier asked as he slid the shirt off Geralt’s shoulders. Geralt hummed approvingly and raised his arms when Jaskier grabbed his undershirt. They kept kissing until he felt Jaskier’s hands slowing down, tensing slightly against his chest until they were barely just touching him. He saw the look on Jaskier’s face when he parted from him and realised why he had stopped. Jaskier’s eyes were fixated on his torso, fingers hovering over one of his many scars. 

“I can put the shirt back on if you want,” he offered and Jaskier’s eyes jumped back to his face.

“What? No, darling, no,” he rushed and grabbed Geralt’s face kindly, kissing him again. “I was just surprised. Is this okay? Can I- can I touch you?”

“Yeah. Of course you can,” he kissed Jaskier softly. “They haven’t hurt in a long time.” 

“Can I ask- I know this isn’t the best of times but-" he bit his lip with hesitation. "Did someone do this to you?” 

“Not one person in particular,” Geralt shrugged it off.

“Geralt,” Jaskier’s brow furrowed. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he brushed his nose against Jaskier’s. “It’s in the past.” 

"Okay," Jaskier whispered and then, trying to lighten the mood he added, "was it, like, your secret service past?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

Jaskier snorted.

“Just tell me you’re not in a fight club.”

“In a what?” Geralt asked, frowning. 

“A fight club.”

“I don’t know what that is,” he said, seemingly clueless. 

“You know, a fi- oh, you ass!” Jaskier yelped, slapping him lightly on the pec and Geralt laughed, grabbing the back of Jaskier's thighs right below his bottom to make him slip even further into his lap.

“How would you like to take care of my ass?” 

Jaskier almost choked on his own breath and turned an even deeper shade of red.

"Are you- do you mean literally?"

"I'm not a blushing virgin, Jaskier,” Geralt said matter-of-factly. 

"I know, I just mean- well if you've never- I mean are you sure you want to? With me?"

It was a sensible question but Geralt didn't want to think about it for too long. Thinking would mean trying to make sense of things -feelings, desires. It would lead to labelling and wanting to belong and- he just hated words. Words had a tendency to make things real and unmovable. Actions were so, so much better.

"You're the one who knows what he's doing, here,” Geralt said. “I'd rather it be you doing the work."

"Uh," Jaskier said thoughtfully. He probably had a PhD in literature or something based on the improbable number of books and manuscripts lying around in his flat. Geralt had even seen a couple ones in the cereal cupboard which was apparently where Jaskier’s glasses went.

"Alright then. Just. Tell me if something is not working for you, alright?"

"I will. Now can we get back to business?"

"To defeat-"

"If you start singing right now I am getting out of here," he grabbed a handful of the musician’s ass.

"Oi!!" Jaskier complained in the fakest way possible. "Wait, hold on, does that mean you've seen Disney movies- what's your favourite one?"

Geralt raised yet another very serious eyebrow. 

"Do you often discuss topics that make people think about their kids when they're trying to bed you-"

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry," Jaskier laughed and hid his face in Geralt's neck, full of shame. "How much do you hate me right now?" he muffled.

"Hmm," Geralt pondered, slowly sliding his fingers up Jaskier's spine. "You should probably find a way to make me forget about it."

"Hmm," Jaskier imitated, kissing the side of Geralt's neck and slowly making his way up to the man’s ear. "What if I took your pants off?" he whispered.

"Could be a start," Geralt admitted. 

"What if we moved to my bed?"

"I was beginning to wonder if you had one of those."

"I can still fuck you over the kitchen counter if you're disappointed."

Geralt’s pupils dilated as he pictured himself bent over the piece of furniture, holding onto whatever he could while Jaskier pounded him restlessly. 

"Bed. Now." 

  -

  Geralt only got a quick look at the room (more books, more notebooks, cord instruments of all sorts and sizes) before Jaskier grabbed him by the belt and pushed him onto the bed. He followed quickly, straddling him and kissing him senseless until Geralt’s head hit the mattress. 

"Can I t-" Jaskier started and Geralt tried to sit up, cutting him off with a kiss. He reached for his own belt, planning on taking his trousers off before Jaskier pressed against his shoulders and made him lie down again. He slid his fingers between Geralt’s, caressing his knuckles softly. 

"Oh please, give me the honor."

Geralt almost growled with impatience and reached a hand out between Jaskier's legs, palming him through his jeans.

"Oh sweet Edith Eleanor Diana Poulton, you are not playing."

He got Geralt’s belt out of the way and undid his trousers. Geralt’s underwear followed halfway when Jaskier took the trousers off, leaving his ass bare on the sheets and the hem of his briefs so low on his hips it was practically at the base of his cock. He tried taking his briefs off entirely, feeling silly and oddly vulnerable being halfway undressed but Jaskier batted his hands off and kissed him again. He slid a hand through Geralt’s pubic hair and slowly, incredibly slowly, down, and after what felt like a thousand years, finally closed his hand around Geralt’s cock and pulled. 

Geralt pushed the back of his head into the mattress and closed his eyes as if he was at risk of losing sight if he left them open. Jaskier kissed him through the first moan of pleasure and quickly was all over him. Jaskier was kissing and licking and touching and stroking and Geralt was having quite a hard time trying to do much more than let his hand grab onto Jaskier’s hair and do his best not to sound too desperate. He was absolutely failing. 

“Is this good, darling?” Jaskier whispered, kissing his neck up to his jaw and softly biting the skin there as his hand kept stroking him. 

"Hmm," was all Geralt could manage and he felt Jaskier smile against his skin.

"Tell me?"

"Ah,” Geralt’s hands were moving somewhat erratically, trying to hold onto any part of Jaskier that would make him feel anchored and not as if he was going to lose his mind before he got the man’s socks off. “Yes."

"You're so good darling,” Jaskier’s kindness, Geralt vaguely decided, was fucking obscene. “You're doing so good."

Geralt felt himself blush, having no idea how any blood could flow to his face since he was pretty sure all of it was rushing to his dick. He wasn't going to last long at this rate.

"I want- I want to touch you too."

Jaskier let him open his jeans and moaned into his mouth when Geralt finally got his hand into his underwear. 

“Jaskier,” he warned and Jaskier slowed down the working of his own hands. 

“You alright, love?” he whispered, voice broken with pleasure. 

Instead of an answer, Geralt sat up and pulled Jaskier's trousers to get his point across. Jaskier took his hands off him - the loss was fucking unbearable - to finally get rid of all remaining items of clothing and pressed himself against Geralt again, his hand on his neck. Geralt immediately got his arms around his middle to cradle him closer. Jaskier rocked slightly against him, their cocks pressing against each other and Geralt couldn't help but get a hand on both of them.

"Show me?" he croaked hoarsely and silently prayed that Jaskier wouldn’t make him beg for it because he definitely would. Instead Jaskier joined their hands together and guided him, pressing on Geralt's fingers to make him hold his cock tighter, moaning when Geralt's wrist angled exactly how he liked it.

"Oh god, yes. You're so good to me, love," he moaned. 

It felt like forever and it felt like a blink. They rocked and they kissed and they moaned and Jaskier kept breathing sweet nonsense into his neck, praises into his ear, about how good he was and how good he felt and how well Jaskier would take care of him and how much he wanted to make him moan through the night but in the end, what got him over the edge was Jaskier digging his fingers onto the soft flesh of his ass, sliding in to brush against Geralt’s hole, and absolutely, definitely had nothing to do with Jaskier crying out, “Oh love, you’re beautiful!”

Geralt lost a few seconds or maybe a minute or five over which Jaskier had apparently come all over his stomach too. Jaskier was catching his breath, lying with his forehead against Geralt’s chest, trying his best not to lay all his weight over him. Geralt found the back of Jaskier’s neck, his fingers going up through his hair and drawing a comfortable groan from him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pushing on his arm to lie a few centimeters away, his head propped over Geralt’s shoulder, their legs still intertwined together. Jaskier’s arm stretched over Geralt’s middle and the tingly waves of left-over pleasure washed over them both with every breath, content tiredness slowly taking over. 

A few minutes later Geralt extracted himself from Jaskier’s grasp, not without some difficulty, and convinced himself to clean up. Washing his hands in front of the bathroom mirror, Geralt looked back at Jaskier’s face hovering over his shoulder as Jaskier pressed his chest against his back. Eyes closed, Jaskier asked: “D’you want to stay?”

Vaguely wondering about the last time he felt as comfortable as this with someone and then pushing the thought away, Geralt’s eyes lowered, looking at Jaskier’s arms settled around his body. 

He felt Jaskier’s lips move into a loopy smile against his skin when he answered:

“Hmm.”

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XVI

(A/N at the end)

Parts I-XV:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

When Cordelia was just a small girl, her father would play a game with her. Cordelia would run as fast as she could in the yellow shoes her mother just bought her, her arms stretched out from her sides flapping like a featherless bird, towards her father squatting on the ground a few feet away from her. When she’d be nearly to him, she’d leap from the ground with a faith only a child could muster into his waiting hands where he would toss her over his head in the air. There was this moment, when she would be suspended in the air just before momentum died and gravity’s pull dragged her back down, that everything went quiet around her. Everything went still. When all she could see was the horizon in front of her and her father’s embrace below. And she’d come falling back down to earth. A laughing star with a red tail and bright yellow shoes. 

The moment Cordelia’s eyes felled upon James, she felt the weightless suspense of being hugged by the wind just before it released her back to the ground, except no awaiting arms were there to catch her and she came hurtling to the ground.

He looked so handsome— when he ever didn’t, she wasn’t sure— with his dark curls pushed back away from his face and the lingering smile on his lips. He wore gear up to his neck, black except for the silver buckles of his vest strapped across his lower abdomen and the red scarf around his neck. The hilts of his throwing knives glistened in the warm light coming through the window and from the ball-shaped orbs that hung from chains above him, flickering with burning witchlights. The words she’d be rehearsing to herself since the moment she woke up seemed to evaporate like steam from tea out of her mind.

Thankfully, words were no longer necessary as Matthew crossed the threshold of the foray into the sitting room, past James whose his eyes never managed to leave hers, as he said, “You’re awake. Splendid. Things have been awfully dull without your joyful presence.” Matthew grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed a light kiss to both of her cheeks before reaching around her and patting Lucie on the head earning himself a shove into the couch. “Where have you been all morning?” Matthew directed at Lucie.

“That is my business,” said Lucie, smoothing her hair, “and mine alone. Where have you lot been?”

Matthew waved a hand down his body clad in black gear except his was stitched with gold thread that matched the color of his hair. He rested his knee high boots on the coffee table rattling the tray of tea and biscuits, bits of mud flecked off onto the glass. “We were out at the theater enjoying a matinee…”

While their banter continued on, James stumbled towards Cordelia. His foot catching the footstool; his eyes surprisingly never leaving hers. 

Cordelia stifled a laugh and stepped forwards away from the window to meet him in the center of the room. 

“You look,” he swallowed and his hand raised, paused, before he ran it through his own hair, “you look better.”

“Better?” Cordelia ran her hands over the fabric of her skirt. “Well, I should hope so. A few days in a magically induced coma does wonders for ones complexion.”

“I shall no longer be calling you Daisy then,” he said.

Her eyebrows jumped. “No?”

“No,” smiled James. “Perhaps I shall call you Sleeping Beauty.”

“Perhaps you should not,” said Cordelia appalled, having read the French classic in her youth and despising the damsel for being insolent enough to touch the spinning wheel and then not being able to manage herself out of the sleep she put herself in. “I am not a damsel to be woken with a kiss.” 

No, no, she was the prince riding on the mount and climbing the scaffold and fighting the evil that existed in the world. 

The corner of James’s mouth lifted in a sad smile. “No,” he said, leaning forward so only she could hear him. “You never did require anyone’s rescuing.”

The memory of ice cream dripping down her hand, the warmth of the sun on her cheeks, and the excitement of their joined rebellion only moments ago; along with the way that James was looking at her now, like she wasn’t quite real, sent a warmth through Cordelia. 

“Will you be staying in London?” he asked, folding his hands behind his back. “Or will you be leaving for Alicante soon?”

“Staying,” said Lucie from behind her, abandoning her raillery with Matthew to join in their conversation, much to James’s chagrin which he failed to hide from his face. “For sometime, at least until we can recover her memories from the shadow realm.”

“Recover her memories?” asked Matthew, a biscuit crumbling over the front of his gear. “Has she lost them?”

Cordelia slid a glare in Lucie’s direction. Lucie raised her shoulders innocently. “Was I not supposed to say anything? They would have found out eventually.”

“Charles is requesting that we remain in London until my memories of the events return in the case that it provides them with information about Belial,” she said to both boys. “Also, he wants us to remain close in case he attempts an attack on us again.”

“Interesting,” mused Matthew.

“Yes,” said James, his eyes wandered over Cordelia. “How did you lose your memories?”

“No, not that,” said Matthew as he stood and came to stand beside James. “My brother actually did the right thing for once. I find that interesting. Where is Christopher? It seems we may have jumped into another dimension without the help of the book.”

 Ignoring Matthew, James waited for Cordelia’s reply. “I’m not sure,” she said. “The last thing I remember is getting into the carriage with Alastair after I left… after talking with you.”

A muscle moved in James’s jaw and for the first time, he looked away from Cordelia and down at his boots. A fine, ebony curl fell in his face. 

“What book?” demanded Lucie. 

Matthew’s pale eyebrows jumped as he glanced at James. “It would appear as if my impeccable sense of humor has found me in trouble yet again.”

“I’d suggest keeping your mouth shut,” sighed James. “But I fear the words would be wasted and the attempt futile.”

“What book?” Both girls asked.

“Keep your voice down,” said Matthew, glancing over his shoulder, across the room where the door to the dining room led, and then suspiciously at Church curled up on the chair beside the fire. “There are ears everywhere.”

Lucie placed her hands on her hips. “What are you four up to? Tell me. Tell me now or I’ll tell Mam and Pa that you’re keeping secrets behind their back.”

James glared at his sister as he used to do when they were children and Lucie desperately wanted him to be the villain in her live production of her latest playwright or novella. He seemed to be contemplating if Lucie’s threat was legitimate or a bluff. Cordelia knew the truth, Lucie would never purposefully sabotage her brother, but rather learn of his secrets on her own if he wouldn’t reveal them freely. However, scaring the information out of him was a much easier and faster tactic. 

James exhaled and whipped his scarf off his shoulders, casually tossing it on the couch. “If you must know, we are in search of a book that will help us locate portals into other realms.” He glanced at Cordelia. “As well as something that may help us learn how to kill Belial.”

“Portals?” Lucie glanced between Matthew and James. “Like the one at the cemetery?”

“Yes,” said James while Matthew nodded enthusiastically.

“Why not just use the portal at the cemetery then?” asked Lucie.

“Because that would be far to easy and nothing in our lives are ever that simple,” said Matthew. 

“Portals can move or vanish,” explained James. “They don’t stay in one place for long and they’re incredibly difficult to track.”

“The closest one could be in the dreaded Americas,” said Matthew with a look of distaste. 

“We also don’t fully understand how they work just yet,” said James. “We don’t know what realm we would be stepping into, we don’t know what exists in those realms, and we don’t know how to return to this one.”

Cordelia, who remained quiet through their confession, asked, “Where is this book?”

James turned to her and she felt her bleeding heart quicken in response. “We’ve called upon Magnus Bane. We’re awaiting his response.”

“Called upon?” asked Lucie. “He’s one of Mam and Pa’s dearest friends. He spent the holidays with us when we were children. Why not just knock on his door if you needed help.”

“Matthew didn’t want to seem rude,” said James.

“The warlock has blue smoke coming out of his fingertips,” said Matthew in distress. “He is a legend. You simply do not waltz up to a legend’s front door and demand a look in his library. I’ve heard of him turning people into toads for much less.”

“Also,” said James, shaking his head at Matthew. “We need to come up with a version of the truth that won’t have him running to our parents about our plans.”

“You need a lie?” asked Cordelia.

“‘A version of the truth’ he said,” cried Matthew. “We cannot lie to a high warlock. He’ll see right through us like cheap cotton.”

“Use me,” said Cordelia. The three of them looked to her with drawn eyebrows and still looks. “I heard Charles talking to Jem about possible ways of retrieving my memories and Magnus’s name came up, briefly, before Charles denied the help of a warlock even on such pressing matters. We could go to his flat and ask for assistance searching through my mind. James can ask to go into the library while he waits and search for the book. Magnus won’t think anything of it since James loves books.”

The perturbed looks did not evaporate once she was finished. Lucie turned her back to Cordelia, her eyes locked on her feet.

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Matthew, the first to speak. “That’s not a bad idea at all. A much better idea than Christopher’s, who suggested one of us poison ourselves and seek an antidote from him.”

“That was your idea,” said James and stepped towards Cordelia. With the distance between them shortened, Cordelia could see the faint dusting of freckles across his cheekbones. The air carried the smell of him towards her: sandalwood, the leather of his gear, and old books. It was enough to make her sway. “Are you sure, Cordelia? You’ve not been awake for twenty four hours yet. Shouldn’t your mind have time to heal?”

 Jem had mentioned something to Charles about it being dangerous to reach into Cordelia’s mind while she healed and that she should have a few weeks to recover to see if the memories returned on their own without intervention. When Charles didn’t accept his warning, Jem offered the name Magnus Bane knowing that Charles would bristle. It worked. Charles agreed to wait until Cordelia’s mind had time to heal before the Silent Brothers would go prodding through her memories in search of something she, herself, could not see.

But she wanted to be of assistance to her friends now. And if she was being absolutely honest, she wanted vengeance. He’d nearly killed Alastair and herself. He did kill their carriage driver and a dear friend of the Herondale’s. Belial kidnapped her in order to gain access to James and she would not allow it to happen again.

“James is right,” said Lucie. “It’s not safe. You should rest and gain your strength. We’ll find another way to retrieve the book.”

“There’s no time,” she said. “Besides, who knows if waiting will draw the memories out or shut them in tighter. I think the earliest we gain access to them the better.”

Lucie offered her a tight smile and inhaled. “Excellent,” she said, but her tone suggested otherwise. “We’ll wait for Magnus to return with an invitation and then we’ll go.”

“Go?” The four of them turned to find Tessa standing in the foray with Will, Alastair, and Sona behind her. Her eyes danced between them. “Go where exactly?”

(A/N: Here it is guys! Thank you for waiting an extra couple of days. I had a birthday party for my nephew this weekend and it was just kind of a rough week in general, but Sunday I was able to mostly write. It’s a lot of dialogue, but it’s fun dialogue. I hope you guys enjoy it.)

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 27/Mar/2020

Blimey, what a week! It was a seriously full one :D

I steamed ahead on Book Three planning and am seriously so eager and excited to start getting writing in April! I managed to figure out which scenes go in the final plans, but a lot of the scenes left will either go for other books or become Unseen Scenes on Patreon!

Planning had to be put on hold for a couple of days though as I got the copyedit version back from Hosted Games. I spent a couple of days just focusing on that, adding in any edits, testing, and checking through other edits to ensure Book Two stays on vision.

So I sent that back yesterday and that's pretty much completely my side of things done now (as far as I'm aware, anyway, lol)!

For Creek Edge, I'm still on the MC sprite customisation. I knew this would be seriously heavy part of this game to work on, but I hope it will be worth it!

I'm still working on thinking how to code it all in so it runs smoothly. I think it might have to be a couple of pages of character customisation and not just all on one screen. There's just too much to fit on one screen, at least for my somewhat limited coding skills. I'll ask my readers what they think of it though, in case it's just too much or feels overwhelming.

So yeah, I'm super pumped for getting into the starts of Book Three writing soon and get some proper movement on the sprite for Creek Edge!

Hope you all have a wonderful and safe weekend! <3

[nitewrighter]

Hey :) i kinda miss your prefall Gency fic... Do you think you can write some more ? Take care ♥

I’m still thinking about the canonical existence of Overwatch Propaganda Cartoons that we saw in that preview of Hero of Numbani.

...can you tell I watched old GI Joe opening theme songs specifically for this fic?

Also credit goes to @apocryphist for coming up with “underhand” which really should be the only name for villains in the Overwatch universe.

-----

Genji drummed his fingers on the conference room table as he rested his chin in his other hand. Mercy sat to his left, nonchalantly tapping out some correspondence on her tablet as they waited. On his other side, Tracer was bouncing her knee with her fingers interlaced on the table in front of her, doing her best to at least put forward the semblance of a strike team leader despite her fidgeting. Winston sat stiffly next to her, apparently trying to scroll through lab results on his own tablet but clearly too nervous to stay focused. It was a bright and slightly breezy afternoon in Zurich, and normally Genji would have been gracefully slashing his way through the training grounds at this time, but instead they were all here.

“I can’t stand it when they don’t say what the meetings are about,” mumbled Winston. 

“It’s probably a top secret mission!” said Tracer.

“’Secret?’” said Winston, sounding even more nervous, “I’m... I’m not exactly good at ‘secret.’”

“Is it unrealistic to hope we got more intel from Doomfist?” said Genji, glancing at Mercy.

“I wish,” huffed Mercy, “But from what debriefings I could get my hands on, he hasn’t given us anything useful.”

“How is that possible?” said Genji, “After all the internal damage he did to Talon’s internal power structure, shouldn’t they be scrambling without him? Shouldn’t there be a power vacuum?”

“I don’t know any more than you do...” said Winston, readjusting his glasses. 

“Honestly I thought you’d know more about it, what with the Blackwatch stuff,” said Tracer.

“Still benched,” said Genji, folding his arms.

“Officially,” said Mercy with a slight side-eye.

Genji gave her an amused “Hmph,” before saying, “Either way, Reyes pushed me out of the loop now that I’m on your strike team... not that I paid that much attention to the loop befo---”

The door opened and everyone perked up at the sight of Jack Morrison and Sojourn walking into the room. Jack seemed uneasy, but honestly Mercy couldn’t really recall the last time he seemed at ease.

“Okay, before we start, I want all of you to keep an open mind with this,” he said, looking across all of them.

“...Very encouraging, Strike Commander,” said Sojourn, with slightly sardonic amusement. She put her hands on her hips and turned to face Tracer’s strike team, “As you all know, when you’re recruited into Overwatch, you sign a waiver allowing us to use your image in... all sorts of stuff. Press releases, scientific publications, training videos for new recruits---”

“Posters,” said Mercy, already skeptical.

“Posters, too,” said Sojourn with a smile, “However, back during Omnic Crisis Reconstruction, we were using the images of heroes for a lot more.”

“Heroes?” Genji repeated quietly as Sojourn produced a remote control from the pocket of her jacket and hit a button. The venetian blinds tilted to shut out the sunlight and the lights of the room dimmed as the wallscreen lit up behind Sojourn. The screen lit up in bright colors and red and yellow explosions as a trumpeting fanfare started playing. Tracer’s face lit up as a young cartoon version of Jack Morrison appeared on the screen, pumping his fist in the air. 

“The world needs heroes!” said the cartoon Jack Morrison, “Are you with us?” 

Genji glanced at Jack who was very clearly cringing at his cartoon self.

“Oh yes!” said Tracer, her eyes bright, “It’s been years since I’ve watched this! You guys know the song, right?” she said looking at her teammates, “..No?”

The theme song was already playing, and Tracer was singing along with it eagerly.

There’s no need to fear

Overwatch is here!

Saving all we hold dear!

Mercy made a ‘I really hope this meeting isn’t going the way I think it’s going,’ face at Genji and Genji suppressed a chuckle, but Tracer seemed absolutely thrilled and even Winston was humming along with the theme song. The theme song kept playing and even introduced different members of the old Overwatch Strike team. One of the animators clearly had fun lavishing a lot of attention on Ana Amari’s hair whipping around from the force of an explosion behind her. A still-blonde cartoon Reinhardt brawled fist-to-fist with some kind of black and neon green robot. Cartoon Morrison jumped a motorcycle off of an aircraft carrier with cartoon Reyes wielding a missile launcher in the sidecar. Torbjörn and Liao were working side by side in a lab before the camera panned out to reveal they were in a bright blue tank-like vehicle Genji safely assumed was entirely made up to sell toys, firing off RPG’s with even more explosions. Sojourn chuckled watching her cartoon self fire two submachine guns at black and neon green helicopters while parachuting out of an exploding jet. There was, all in all, a frankly ridiculous amount of explosions. It finally ended with one last massive explosion and fanfare and cartoon versions of Sojourn and the entire original strike team all pumping their fists in the air with Morrison in the center. 

Sojourn hit another button on her remote, the wall screen blipped off, the venetian blinds opened and the lights came on, leaving everyone sitting at the conference table blankly.

“Ahh! Still just as good as when I was a kid!” said Tracer, excitedly.

“Now, I know what you’re going to say--” Morrison started.

“Propaganda,” said Mercy, “You want to put us in propaganda.”

“You’re already in propaganda,” said Sojourn, flatly.

“This is propaganda aimed at children!” said Mercy.

“Do you know how young Talon is recruiting?” said Sojourn.

“That doesn’t mean we should stoop to their level!” said Mercy.

“Wars aren’t just won by strategy and firepower, they’re also won by ideology, by public support,” Winston suggested.

Mercy remembered something Moira said and it sent a shiver down her spine. 

The true struggle is for the superiority of ideas.

“Thank you, Winston,” said Jack, “It’s not necessarily about convincing them to join, it’s about convincing people that we have their best interests in mind. Which...” Jack gestured, “We do.”

“Those bad guys didn’t look like Talon,” said Genji.

“Oh, it wasn’t Talon!” said Tracer excitedly, before dropping into a dramatic narrator voice, “Underhand is a Ruthless Criminal Organization determined to rule the world!”

“Uh--Underhand?” said Winston. Jack said nothing but somehow managed to look more dead inside.

“...Overwatch and Underhand...” Mercy repeated incredulously.

“So--we’re going to be in a cartoon?” said Genji. For some reason, his armor seemed to feel tighter, pinching, constricting around him.

“Well, we did some polling after the Doomfist fight and ran some algorithms through a handful of popular forums and social media,” Sojourn explained, “It turns out you’re all very popular with the younger crowd. Winston and Tracer pull the biggest numbers, but you, Genji, are incredibly popular with boys aged 6 to 14.”

“I...I am?” said Genji.

“Shining armor,” said Mercy, smiling at him, and steam vented from his shoulders.

“And Mercy has a death-grip on the ‘Girls aged 3 to 11′ demographic,” said Sojourn.

“So... more girls are getting into STEM?” said Mercy.

“I’m.. not sure about that, but they seem to really like the fact that you’re pretty and you can fly,” said Sojourn, flipping through the report on her own tablet. 

Mercy’s face dropped and she shook her head. She pursed her lips and thought for a few moments. “I’m not sure about this...”

“If we’re all over the news already, it could help to put stuff out there that gives us more control over our image,” said Winston, he scratched the side of his head, “It... would be nice to show people I’m more than just a gorilla...”

“Genji?” said Mercy, looking over at him. Genji was running his thumb over the knuckles of his prosthetic hand and he seemed to snap out of some particularly stressful train of thought.

“Oh...um... well... it would give you a chance to talk more about Overwatch as a peacekeeping organization?” said Genji, “And if you’re talking about it to children...” 

“They might be less inclined to carry on the conflicts of previous generations!” said Mercy, her eyes brightening.

“Like we said, ideologies,” said Jack.

Mercy inhaled thoughtfully. “If--if we’re going to do this, I want my likeness used responsibly. I don’t want to advocate for violence in any form.”

“...yeah I figured you’d say that,” said Jack.

“And, even if we’re going through fictional conflicts, I don’t want it... glamorized and sensationalized like the old cartoon. We don’t need all those explosions---”

“You did pull Genji out of that explosion a few weeks ago though,” said Tracer.

“Well that’s different--! That’s--!” Mercy huffed, “I think we should push more of Overwatch’s scientific and humanitarian efforts. Show that making the world a better place is more complicated than just.. shooting at bad guys.”

“We could have a science corner!” Winston chimed in, “’Winston’s Science Corner!’”

“Ooh! And maybe I should say something about friendship and teamwork at the end!” said Tracer.

Genji was shrinking a little where he was sitting, unconsciously sliding his wrist plate back and forth.

“What do you think? Edu-tainment?” said Sojourn, glancing back at Jack.

“Could go over easier than a purely fictionalized narrative,” murmured Jack.

“Aw, I wanna fight Underhand, though!” said Tracer.

“Well in any case, you can expect more correspondence from our PR department as we move forward in this project,” said Sojourn. 

“You might not be fighting Talon in some far-flung corner of the world, but make no mistake: this is an important part of the fight,” said Jack.

“And who knows,” said Sojourn as an assistant hurried in with a cardboard box and set it on the conference table, “You could end up some kid’s best friend.”

Tracer and her strike team all stood up from their seats to look into the box.

“Oh commander...!” Tracer looked about to burst with excitement as she reached into the box and pulled out an action figure of herself, “I love it!” She turned over the action figure in her hands and saw a button on the back. She pressed it.

“Cheers love! The Cavalry’s here!” said the Tracer action figure.

“That’s my line!” said Tracer, delighted.

“It’s quite a stunning likeness,” said Winston, taking his own action figure out of the box. He pressed a button on the back of his action figure. 

“Primal Punch!” declared the Winston action figure and Winston chuckled.

Mercy took both the Genji and the Mercy action figures out of the box and chuckled a little. 

“Yours is so pretty, Doc! They even got the wings!” said Tracer as Mercy fiddled around with the action figure’s wings.

“Yes, ‘pretty and flies’ indeed.’ I might be more inclined if she comes with a lab coat accessory,” said Mercy, giving a skeptical glance to her action figure’s bust size. She pressed a button between her action figure’s wings and scoffed a little as the action figure said, “Heroes never die!” 

She held Genji’s action figure out to him and he hesitantly took it. “What do you think?”

Genji turned the action figure over in his hand and looked at the button on the back. He pressed it, but the figure said nothing.

“Oh we um... didn’t really have a ‘catchphrase’ for you yet,” said Sojourn as Genji gingerly ran the finger of his prosthetic hand up the blade of the action figure’s sword clasped in his little plastic hand, “We were hoping you could put in a word for it. These are just mock-ups, really.” 

You’re incredibly popular with boys age 6 to 14...

Genji moved the arm of the action figure up and down, the figure striking downward with its sword, and he thought of young boys playing with this miniature him. Running with the action figure clutched in little hands with white knuckles, playing out battles, having the action figure swing its sword at all those foes, imitating his own swordsmanship, fighting their brothers with sticks, punching each other, kicking each other---

“No,” Genji said on reflex.

“What?” said Sojourn, glancing up from Tracer chattering about her own action figure.

“I--I said no. I shouldn’t have an action figure. I shouldn’t be in the show,” said Genji. His voice was tight.

“Genji...” Mercy started.

“...is it about how you look?” said Sojourn, “Because Genji, I can tell you, seeing people like us on the screen means the world to kids with prosthetics---”

“No--” Genji was stammering, “It’s not about that, it’s--”

“Genji, you’re a part of the team,” Tracer tried to reassure him, “It wouldn’t be the same without you--”

“Children shouldn’t want to be like me!” Genji blurted out, and there was a small plasticky snap. Genji glanced down and saw that he had unthinkingly broken the arm off of his own action figure. The entire room had gone silent, staring at him. He set both the action figure and its broken-off arm on the table and exhaled. “I’m-- I need to think about it,” he said, pushing up from the table and walking briskly out of the room.

“Genji, wait--” said Mercy, standing up. Her eyes flicked to the broken Genji action figure on the table and she picked it up, tucking both the figure and the broken off arm in the pocket of her lab coat. The door slid shut behind Genji but she quickly walked after him, leaving Morrison, Sojourn, Tracer, and Winston alone in the room. A long quiet pause passed between the four of them.

“Maybe just web shorts?” said Winston, “Just.. um... just the science corner?”

“Winston--” Tracer huffed.

“Right--sorry,” said Winston.

“...well, they did keep an open mind,” said Jack, “Mostly.”

“Don’t make me break out your action figure, Jack,” said Sojourn.

----

It was a known fact that if you broke visual contact on Genji, you had a pretty low probability of finding him again unless he wanted to be found. Still Mercy spent more of the remainder of the afternoon looking for him than she was readily willing to admit. The fact that he was able to disappear from the hallway that quickly made her assume he had taken the window (very mature, by the way, Genji, she thought with an eye roll) but she checked all of his usual spots and even went to his room before finally huffing and returning to her lab.

It was about 11 at night when the door slid open.

“Genji, we’re beholden to the UN. I know that was an uncomfortable situation, but... there are still protocols,” said Mercy, not even looking up from her screen.

“I know,” his cybernetically reverberative voice hummed from the other side of the room.

“I don’t know how... informally Reyes maintained his meetings, but we can’t--” Mercy looked up from her screen and read his posture and expression. Her shoulders slumped. She pushed up from her desk and walked across the lab over to him.

“I’m sorry, I know. I just shut down,” said Genji as she closed the distance between them, “I don’t even know where it came from, ever since I joined Tracer’s strike team, I thought I’ve been getting better but--” he cut himself off as she hugged him. He stood there for a few seconds before returning the embrace. A part of him wanted to take his faceplate off, breathe in the smell of her hair and the smell of coffee on her, but he tamped that down. They had embraced before, after Gérard Lacroix’s death, and had broken out of it, both of them muttering about it being inappropriate and messy, but after missions together on Tracer’s strike team, there was no such shame in taking comfort in each other like this. She loosened the hug slightly to look at him.

“What you said... about you and children...”  she trailed off.

“I...” Genji sighed, “I’m an assassin.”

“You’re an agent,” said Mercy.

“Whose skills all come from the fact that he was raised to be an assassin,” said Genji, “What I went through as a child---I don’t want another child to go through it. And I don’t want children to think that’s what they want because it’s not.”

“They won’t have to,” said Mercy, putting her hands on his shoulders, “The Shimada Clan’s practically collapsed! You get to decide who you are, not them! You get to choose what you do with your skills,” one of her hands trailed down his arm and clasped his organic hand, “And you choose good. You’ve been choosing to do good.”

“...kids shouldn’t want to be like me when I don’t even know what the hell I am,” muttered Genji.

Mercy gave a helpless chuckle, “Join the club. ‘Mercy’ is easier to be than Angela. People listen to ‘Mercy,’ except not really, because she’s just pretty and she flies and at the end of the day, she’s just a bloody idea, so no one actually listens to her because she’s not real---”  she caught herself, “God, they’re really going to turn us into cartoon characters, aren’t they?” she said, pushing her bangs back from her face, “As if things weren’t already weird enough.”

“Cyborg ninja. Angel doctor. Time traveler. Gorilla from the moon. It really makes no difference at this point,” said Genji with a shrug, looking over her shoulder, he noticed a small figure on her desk. “Is that---?” he broke out of the embrace and walked over to the desk to see his action figure standing there. The arm had been glued back on, the seam of the break barely visible. He picked up the action figure. “You fixed me? It--It-- I mean it. You fixed it?” he said glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Well I couldn’t just leave you like that,” said Mercy, chuckling a little. 

“’You’ve rescued me again, Doctor Ziegler!’” said Genji, making the action figure bob with his words. They both snickered. “Maybe that can be my catchphrase,” said Genji, a smirk in his voice.

“Absolutely not,” said Mercy, giggling.