#it's... like a merging of the books and show into one beautiful mess

[awesome-shoes-with-wings]

So 'bout that Poseidon from the show, amirite? *goes to cry again*

I think we were all blown away by that excellent performance. So of course I spent the last 2-3 days trying to get a design of Poseidon that I liked by merging the show and the books' versions together!

Anyhow, customary song from my Poseidon playlist:

I'm only honest when it rains, An open book with a torn out page, And my ink's run out. I want to love you but I don't know how.

NEPTUNE - Sleeping at Last

(almost used Tahitian Blue by John Butler Trio but discovered... I already did that with my previous drawing... but Neptune is perfect anyway.)

[fuckyeahalisonblaire]

X-Treme, A-Force, and X-terminators: What would you say were the pro's and con's of each?

Okay, so I haven't read any of these titles recently, so keep that in mind with my answers. Out of all of them, I have definitely read X-Treme the most.

X-TREME

Pros: It did a decent job of showing the many abilities of Dazzler. It wasn't just light blasts, but other variations of her powers. She's more than just a pretty light show, and the writer did well in conveying that. I also felt like it established new relationships with the cast quite strongly. You could see her bond with everyone quite nicely. Her characterization was pretty well done as well. A lot of writers miss the mark with Alison, but here you saw a few sides of her, plus her leadership role was well done.

Cons: There was one issue where everyone was bonding over hardships, and Alison basically said she didn't have any. Now, this series seemed like she was trying to run away from her life for a little bit, but I feel like no one touches on the hardships she has faced in her life, unless you bring up the Mystique stuff (which did happen after this series, mind you). She did fight on Mojoworld, she did lose her dad, she was abandoned by her mother as a child, she did survive M-Day and she does have multiple instances of surviving death. Those are just a few examples! I suppose another thing is a crit I have about most Dazzler series, and it didn't touch much on her canon relationships. I so wish we could see even a mention of her friendships.

A-FORCE (I'm just going to do V2 here)

Pros: I loved it actually showing her dealing with the way Mystique messed up her life. I felt that Kelly did a much better job of showcasing how Alison was healing, and not just reacting to a trauma. I loved her pushing past her darkness, and finally being able to slowly be herself again. I also loved that someone else finally touched on her resurrection ability. At this point, the only time it had been mentioned or touched upon really was New Excalibur (where it originated). You can make a case for X-Terminators, I suppose, but here she actually talked about it, and still had no answers. I loved her getting to make new relationships with other women, while touching on the fact that she had a kinship in She-Hulk. Also, Dazzler Thor? Beautiful!

Cons: Too short! I didn't really like the story that brought in Elsa, or the whole Civil War 2 thing. I mostly hate that it ended so soon that we couldn't see what happened with Alison's M-Pox. For me, it was mostly the things that were undone because of how short the series was.

And lastly...

X-TERMINATORS

I am going to merge the cons and pros here. I will admit, I did not enjoy this series. I'm glad that Alison had some kickass moments near the end, I guess, but a lot of the characterization for this was all over the place for every character. I really dislike Marvel's love for developing relationships off panel, and this mini was a huge example of that happening. This is also just a personal preference, but I don't really like how Leah always references memes and chronically online dialogue. I'd say I was more annoyed with Tabitha than anything Dazzler did, but that has been a slow sliding slope for years now, and Tabitha is a completely different character than she used to be. However, that is a rant for a different blog. Just a lot of plot holes, and just...yeah. There's other reasons I really dislike that book, but I'll just leave it at that and try to end on a high note. Alison putting her butterfly make up on in those few panels was pretty fun, and I liked her disco outfits incorporating shorts.

Here's hoping when her new mini comes out, it's full of amazing moments!

[biological-catastrophe]

Name: Pollux Alias: 💫

Birthday: N/A Age: At least 1 year, there is evidence to show more years but is not confirmed Gender: Something masculine-ish (He/Him) Species: God/Angel (God of Anomalies) Sexuality: his husband <3 Height: 5'10 (178 cm)

Appearance: Hair: Light pink and fluffy, a bit above his shoulders Eye color: Light purple Clothing: He wears a purple and pink crop top with bits of the shoulder and chest exposed and fluffy sleeves, plus dark fingerless gloves. He has navy fitting pants with a dagger strapped to his right thigh, plus purple boots. He will also dress fem with the same color pallet, and he keeps the knife on his thigh. Etc: He has a large gold halo above his head that seems to be dripping, its sort of attached to him and cannot be moved by someone else, though he can wish it away at will. When he is feeling emotional, the halo will drip significantly more. He also has two pairs of light purple wings that he can use to fly, and he also can hide them as he wants.

Personality: Pollux is quite mischievous and playful, enjoying messing with both people and other deities. He's known to play small pranks on others, especially friends. However, he is very protective over his friends, partner, and his world. His personality will flip like a switch if anyone else tries to mess with them and he will turn cold and insulting. To his world, he is very nurturing. He is not teasing or mischievous at all to his world, instead acting as a parental figure to everyone and assisting them. He is known to often visit the people to check up on them and see how they are doing. If he is not at home, 99% of the time he is visiting his people.

His World: Despite his surface level personality, his world is very kind and nurturing. It is mostly a cold climate, with winter being the primary season. Despite that, there seem to be a lot of beautiful plants that grow during the snowy season. The world is based on small individual towns where everyone works as a community. Everyone in a town is a family, and they all work together to make the town a home. One of the worlds traditions is for young adults to travel to other towns and experience their culture. Each town has a cultures and history book, and the travelers will read it and experience several towns cultures before returning home. They also may write a travels log, adding it to their original towns library when they return (or their new town, if they choose to move). Another tradition is they have several holidays where several towns can get together and prepare a feast. While originally each town has their own unique customs, some holidays towns will merge and create new customs that are a blend of the two. Pollux hates being treated like a god, instead he is referred to casually or as 'uncle' by the children. If there happens to be any conflict, Pollux is often there surprisingly fast to resolve it.

[asmutwriter]

Welcome to the Freak Show (Part 11)

Eddie x Reader

WORD COUNT: 3153

From beginning / Previous / Next / Master List

WARNINGS: swearing, smoking, amatuar tattooing, underage drinking (I guess)

DISCLAIMERS

-  This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

You don’t think about it. Assuming he was half joking yesterday when he said about today. That was until he slipped you a note after your history lesson together saying ‘I’ll meet you outside of work. 7:30pm’ that was your first lesson and you’ve been anxious the whole day. Knowing that you will be going to Eddie’s house, and knowing what’ll likely happen. The past few times you’d hooked up was a surprise, spontaneous but this time was... different. This wasn’t a heat of the moment thing. It excited you but you also couldn’t help but feel nervous. At school you could hide it better, doing work and concentrating on taking notes rather than talk to your friends. 

But at work it was more difficult to hide. You spill several cups of coffee, get orders mixed up and all sorts. Near the end of your shift your boss tells you that you can go home early. It was a quiet night so he wasn’t bothered if you left 15 minutes earlier than normal. You nod, grabbing your things and heading out to the car park to wait for your lift. Thankfully you see his van already pulled up. You go over, knocking on the door before getting in “you’ve finished early?” he queries. You nod

“My boss said I could leave early. I kept messing up today” he nods, reversing the car and starting to drive back to his place. “Thank you for the lift” he shrugs 

“Anything for you beautiful” you smile slightly. Eyes focused on the world passing by you. You get to his trailer. He hops out, doing a light jog around to your side of the car as he opens it, gesturing for you to exit “my queen, your destination” you smile as he helps you out of the van. Going over and unlocking the front door, letting you go before him. He goes into the kitchen part of the trailer “Anything to eat or drink?”

“No thank you” he nods, going into the fridge and grabbing a beer

“You mind if I-?” he waggles the bottle in his hand

“Go ahead” he nods, opening it before taking a sip. You start to play with your sleeves. Pulling the fabric over your hands and clutching it in your fists. He notices, eyes scanning over your body. He comes over to you, placing his drink on the side. He takes your balled fists into his hands, kissing each one 

“You don’t need to be worried or anxious. It’s just me” he smiles at you as you nod, looking down “come on” he gently turns you and pulls you onto the sofa sitting you down before going over to a small stack of videos. He holds up a film ‘The Shining’. “Sorry I don’t have any... less horror films. But this is a good story and I think you’ll like it” you nod and smile slightly

“I’ve read the book of it. It’s a good story. I didn’t know they made a film”

“You read Stephen King?”

“Of course I do! He is a horror icon. I do a lot better reading horror then watching it” he laughs slightly, putting the video into the player and coming and sitting next to you again

“You always find new ways to surprise me” you chuckle slightly, resting your head on his shoulder and bring your legs up curled underneath you. He places one arm on the back of the sofa, the other wraps around your torso and rests gently on your hip. You feel your nerves calm down a bit as you start to watch the film. Well, until the scary parts happen anyway.

You find that by the end of the film you are so curled into Eddie’s chest that you fear you may merge into him. Both your hands gripping his shirt as if you’re holding onto dear life. The movie finishes and you make no attempt to move, still clutching him. “I can never tell if you enjoy horror films or not” 

“I can’t tell either” he laughs slightly, the arm that’s not wrapped around you comes up and strokes your arm for comfort. 

“Come on, it’s quite late. We should head to bed. Assuming you’re ok to stay the night?” he says the last part shyly. You nod

“I do have a confession to make. I didn’t actually pack anything for tonight” he nods

“Stay right here” he stands up and goes to what you assume is his bedroom. He comes back with a shirt, throwing it at you “Its clean I promise” you sarcastically sniff it before nodding

“Yeah I’ll let you off” he smiles bowing at you slightly to show his affections of your approval. You stand up, heading to the bathroom. Changing into it you debate taking your bra off. Deciding to leave it on as well as your pants from earlier. You walk out, it being slightly big on you so hiding your underwear slightly. He turns to face you, the smile on his face being cut off as his eyes see your body in his oversized ‘Hellfire’ t-shirt. He coughs slightly, looking away

“I even changed my sheets for you to stay in my bed and everything”

“Is that why you were late to history this morning”

“It might be” you laugh, then cover your mouth as he clutches his heart, throwing his head back dramatically and falling onto the sofa “Your laughing hurts Liz” you grab a cushion from the sofa and hit him with it. He grabs your thigh, pulling you onto him as you squeal

“No that tickles!” he grins, tickling your thigh and then your sides as you wriggle, falling to lie on the sofa as your hands try and grab at his to stop him from tickling you “No this isn’t sleeping!” you laugh as you grab his hands, managing to hold them away as you pant, breathless from laughing to much. He smiles at you as he then stands up. 

“Let me show you my room then” you raise an eyebrow to him “not like that” you chuckle as you stand up, him taking you to the end room. Motioning at his bed “Your bed awaits” You go over to it, collapsing onto it. He smiles, blowing you a kiss “Good night my fair maiden”

“Are you not sleeping in here with me?” you ask, his eyes growing wide “You don’t have to!” you suddenly say “don’t feel forced to. I just... proper sleepover we can sleep in the same room together. Plus with how our friendship is, is it really that obscene for us to share a bed” he nods and chuckles. Turning away from you he takes his shirt off. Your eyes scan his back quickly before looking away. You hear him taking his trousers off before reassuring you

“I am wearing my pants to clarify” as he gets under the duvet next to you. You smile as you turn to him, he faces you as well. “I heard you got on the cheering team” you nod slightly

“Yeah. I’m shit at it but it helps boost my academic-ness so it’s better than nothing”

“You work too hard”

“No such thing”

“Really? When was the last time you had a full 8+ hours sleep without needing to be up and ready for work or school the next day”

“Well… When you put it like that” he chuckles

“I know. Tomorrow we relax. Do absolutely fuck all day”

“Wont your uncle be here?”

“He’ll be asleep for the day so he can work during the night. He won’t mind if you stay the weekend if that’s more what you’re asking”

“So this small sleepover has turned into a whole weekend business?” you raise your eyebrow at him as he nods and chuckles

“But with no homework. No work. Just us two living like the royalty we are” you laugh and nod happily

“I like this plan” he smiles, turning to switch the light off. 

“Goodnight my queen”

“Goodnight Eddie”

-

You wake up about 9 the next morning. You turn and see Eddie still fast asleep next to you. You stand up, going to the bathroom. Rinsing your mouth slightly with water, going to the loo and washing your face. Going back into the room you go over and look at all the items he has. Picking up various tapes from artists, admiring his guitar hanging up over his mirror, checking out his posters. You hear a faint mumble of a “good morning” coming from him. Looking over at him he hides his face with the base of his elbow. Before he sits up, the duvet falling onto his lap as he rubs his face. Reaching across and drinking some water to fully wake himself up he turns to face you properly. His eyes devour your body as he meets your face. You smile at him

“You know, you still owe me a tattoo”

“Do I?” you nod

“Yep. You promised me a tattoo a few months ago. Well, more like said you do me a tattoo” he nods, reaching into the bedside cabinet and pulling out a needle and some ink, plus a lighter and a cigarette. He places it in his mouth, lighting the end. Before he then lights the end of the needle, watching it glow a red colour. He grabs a tissue and the water from the cup, dabbing the end so it cools down but stays sterilised. He motions at you to sit on the bed to which you do. 

“Where and what do you want then?” you bite your lip slightly, holding your wrist out.

“A sun please” he nods

“You sure?” you nod, feeling him take your wrist in his hand and dipping the end into some ink. His eyes look at yours “You ready?” you nod as he begins tattooing your wrist. You bite your lip as he jabs at your arm. Thankfully it’s over rafter about 10 minutes. You smile at him

“Thank you...” he smiles

“You’re very welcome” he grabs the wet tissue and wipes the access ink away. Kissing the tattoo very gently before releasing your arm again. “I’m still tired” he complains, you chuckle as he lies back down. You go and sit next to him, gently stroking his hair as he closes his eyes. His hand comes up and you feel his fingers gently strokes your bare thigh. You feel that his testing the waters, his hand moving further up your leg and more between your legs rather then the outside.

“What are you doing, Munson?” he opens his eyes and smiles at you, resting his now still hand on top of your thigh. 

“How are you going to explain the tattoo to your friends on Monday?” he says as he takes your hand with the hand not resting on your leg, tracing the palm of it. 

“I’m going to tell them I wanted a tattoo so got one”

“And this one?” his hand on your thigh goes to the butterfly higher up your leg, his fingers traces the skin.

“Hopefully no one will see that one”

“Why not?” he smirks

“Because it’s in a very private place on my body”

“Yet I get to see it?” he smiles, kissing the butterfly “You spoil me” you chuckle slightly as you run a hand through his hair. 

“We should get dressed at some point today” his finger still tracing your bare thigh as he smiles

"I mean we don’t have to. We don’t need to confine to societies norms and wear clothes”

“You’re only saying that because you want me to keep my legs bare art you?” he grins at you as he kisses your thigh again. You roll your eyes at him slightly as he stands up, just wearing his boxers from yesterday. He grabs some trousers and places them on, looking sadly at the cigarette that lies forgotten in the ashtray by his bed. You look at him as he goes through his shirts, trying to find one that’s clean. His back facing you as you scan over his body. He finds a clean one, placing it over his body as he looks at you.

“May I help?” 

“Sorry” you look away, feeling shy at being caught staring at him. He chuckles, finding another clean top he throws it at you

“I assume you also don’t have clean clothes with you so you can borrow mine” you nod

“Can you um, turn around please” he nods, covering his eyes and turning his back to you as you take off your top - more his you suppose - and replace it with the clean one he has given you. You then reach under the covers, taking your pants off and turning them inside out as you then look around your room, standing up and going over to where your trousers where you put them on “You can look now” he turns back around as you do up the button and zip. 

“You look good in a band t-shirt”

“You think?” you twirl for him as he nods, admiring the slightly big ‘Iron Maiden’ shirt. “So what are the plans for today then?” you ask as you look at him “You told me I’m not allowed to do any work so I’m not even going to suggest what I want to do today” he chuckles and shakes his head “We could go to the arcade!”

“Do you really want to be seen with me in public?”

“Should it matter?” you look at him as he nods slightly

“I don’t want to be the reason your reputation at school goes down”. You smile and take hold of his hand

“If it worries you that much, I know the people who own it. They won’t mind if I ask them to let us have a private party for a couple of hours” he nods slightly “Shall we my king?”

“Yes we shall my queen” he squeezes your hand, quickly writing a note for his uncle before you both get into his car. 

Once you get there you go up to the staff, explaining you want to have the place to yourself and a friend for a few hours. Saying you’re sure you dad will pay them any money loss. They agree, asking you to come back in half an hour as they can’t just throw everyone out straight away.

Half an hour passes and you both head up, them letting you in as you run up to your favourite game, grabbing out a few coins and putting them into the machine as it starts up. He lets out a laugh as he looks around, the place empty other than a few security people. “I can’t believe you have the power to do this”

“The joys of having rich parents. They may not know anything about their own daughter but if I want something I tend to get it” you frown as you lose hearing him laughing as you die after no more than two minutes. “Oh like you could do any better” he chuckles and nods

“Watch the pro do it” he takes the game, completing it in one attempt. You glare at him, grabbing the hairband from your wrist you tie your hair up “Oh she’s getting serious now” you grin at him as you go through, dying again after three minutes this time. 

“I’m shit at this. Why did you have to destroy me?” he laughs

“Let me help” you nod sadly, him coming behind you as he helps move your hands to escape the destruction of the enemy. You smile as you win, starting to dance happily as you move to the next game. This time you have an upper hand, completing it in your first attempt as he struggles with his third. You go over to a claw machine, looking at the plushies inside. “I can get you one if you want?”

“Oh don’t be silly. I don’t expect you to do that for me” he shakes his head, taking out a few coins and going to the machine “honestly its fine. They are massively rigged so I don’t expect you to be able to win” he nods, his tongue coming out slightly as he concentrates. You watch as the claw goes down, missing the item. His brow furrows as he places in a few more coins. The crane goes across, he eyes it up as he pushes the button for it to lower. It grabs the teddy bear, lifting it all the way up as you watch in awe as the small plush gets dropped down the shoot. He smiles and takes it out the machine, handing it to you as he smiles

“A gift worthy for a royal” you smile, nearly making him fall over as you suddenly hug him. He chuckles as you pull away, taking the small item from his hand and smiling at it. 

“He’s lovely”

“What will you call him?”

“Fred”

“That’s a good name” you nod, gently stroking over the bears ears as you then hold the bear to your chest, smiling at Eddie

“Thank you” he smiles

“Anything to see that smile of yours”

“Oh stop it” you say.

You spend the next few hours playing games in the arcade. Then about 1:30pm you go and get some chips, taking them back to his house and eating them on the sofa. “I want to play a game��� 

“What game would that be?”

“I don’t know. I just want to play a game” you think for a moment “would you rather fight a bear or fight horse”. He thinks for a moment before answering

“A horse. Bears can climb trees, horses cant” you laugh

“Now you go”

“Would you rather... have a duck the size of an elephant or an elephant the size of a duck?”

“Duck sized elephant. That would be so cute!”

“Go on a date with Jason Carver or go on a date with Steve Harrington?”

“Jump of a cliff” you hit his arm slightly as he laughs “Ok. Probably Steve. I know first-hand Jason’s a dick. Steve only seems like one, but I’ve not witnessed it first-hand. Date with Nancy Wheeler or what’s that girls name in the school band...” he thinks for a moment before snapping his fingers “Robin Buckley! Who’d you rather go on a date with?”

“Robin”

“No hesitation with that one” he laughs as you swear at him

“Shut up” you rest your head against the back of the sofa as he stands up, going to the fridge and grabbing a beer out

“You want one?” you bite your bottom lip slightly before nodding

“Go on then” he grabs one for you, coming back over and handing it to you. You open your drink and take a sip. 

TAGS

@karma2223​ @fknemily​

[joannasteez]

𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: EZ Reyes x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Mature Themes.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.7k

Credits to who made the gif @angelreyesgirl

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @my-rosegold-soul @appropriate-writers-name @est1887 @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @brownsugarcoffy @elektriknachosss @queenbeered

Let me know if you’d like a tag!!!

✞

Your annoyance was simmering, daring to merge into the depths of some irreversible state of agitation. The engine of the classic Dodge Charger RT in your possession had, with incredibly poor timing, began to knock. The unsavory noise resonating into the thick air of the street, stilled heat of the day pushing back the regular ebb and flow of the Santo Padre streets to make way for the obnoxious sound of your engine. Your head was spinning, dazed by the bitter humidity and a steady brew of fear trembling in your fingers to dance just under the surface of your skin. The classic car was given by your father, who'd gotten it from his father, the mass of glistening matte black metal of significant value. If the engine failed, you'd be reduced to tears, wading in the dread of some existential crisis.

Your grandfather had had this car for twenty years, the imprint of his essence etched into the leather seats, and when he became grey and withered, he relinquished it to your father for another fifteen years, till finally, it was yours.

You pulled over just as the last knock sounded, the tremble in your fingers worsening. Your eyes welled, sure to leave a soft red glassiness. The need for air consumed you, the space to walk freely about, a puff of smoke or two maybe.

The pavement was hard under your feet, slam of the door accented by vexation. You picked behind your ear, that nicely rolled spliff safely kept and waiting to be lit. The lighter in your front pocket an easy grab, the flicker of orange a short friendly blaze as it singed the paper. The pull you took was slow, measured, as if to savor this minuscule moment of stillness that lived among others not so still. Not so peaceful. With release, you blew into the air, dried eyes taking in the vast blue of the sky. The never ending expansion blurring your vision as your mind sifted through slim courses of action. If you could just get the car to your garage, then you could figure the battery out on your own, saving time you didn’t have on a mechanics trips you couldn’t afford. All you needed was a—

"Need a boost?"

"Yes". The answer was so quick, it nearly gave you whiplash. The tension in your bones dissipating as you got rid of the sizzling flame around your spliff.

The stranger spun his car from its position just beside yours, the hood of it now facing yours head on before he turned it off and got out.

"Thanks so much for this".

"No problem. It's a nice ride you got, don't really see too many classics rolling around Santo Padre much", he said, eyeing the shine of the paint job. His fingers skimming the hood before he lifted it. "Where'd you get it?"

You step closer to him, a grin stretching your lips at his admiration. The RT was your pride and joy, the height of your ego bursting through to rise above some invisible ceiling whenever folks gave it compliments and stares of approval. "My dad had it for a while, gave it to me when he couldn't keep up with it anymore".

With a nod, he retrieved the cables from his trunk, the wide stretch of his back shifting just under the white fabric of his t-shirt to reveal the curve and ripple of muscles. They traveled down his arms, the bulge of them mixing with defined veins that ran across thick powerful looking fingers. He stretched one of those hands out toward you.

"Ezekiel Reyes".

You considered his hand for a moment, slipping it into your own as your eyes racked him with all the subtlety you could muster. It mustn't have been enough because that innocent friendly smile he gave you had turned into something more knowing. He knew you were checking him out but he didn't mind much. "Y/N".

His thumb skimmed the back of your hand just before letting go, turning his attention to attaching the cables to both cars properly. You minded his movements with the cables closely, triple checking the order in which he connected them with a hawks eye, a concentrated intensity that your dear old Charger RT deserved. Abruptly then, like the quickness of a blink or some single strike of lightning, a thought came to you. "Wait, not Reyes as in Carniceria Reyes?"

"Yeah it's my pops shop",

"Felipe's a real sweet guy. It's not everyday you can look through a deep book collection while the butcher cuts up your dinner". You paused, giving the beauty of his face another glance. "He should've warned me though, never told me both his sons were so handsome".

"You met Angel", he stated, a low dip in his tone. Was it disappointment?

"A couple of weeks ago. He was passing through when I stopped by to pick up somethings. He's a real charmer your brother, but I wouldn't worry. I don't think he's messed up your chances just yet", you flirted.

The assurance produced from him a toothy grin. "I'm not worried".

Silence took ahold of you then, anticipation of the moment charging the pressure in your chest to fall straight to your gut. ‘Please work' you whispered while swinging the door wide to slide into the warm leather of the drivers seat. With the key in the ignition, you twisted your wrist forward, a huff of relief puffing from your chest when the engine roars to life. You close the door quick, that relief bubbling under your skin, your head sticking out the window.

"Thanks again Reyes".

He stepped to the window, those warm endearing eyes taking in the summer glow of your face. His tongue slipped just over the plump flesh of his bottom lip. It was a rosy color, the curving dip of it enticing. He liked the way you said his last name.

"It's no problem".

You put your RT in reverse, backing away from his broad body. "See you around?"

"Maybe", he called.

You speed off, the rev of the engine blending into the ebb and flow of the town once again. Existence dipping into the horizon.

✞✞✞✞✞

You'd saw him again at some hole in the wall you frequented at. The smooth slow tempo of some classic 70s song strumming through the stereo to seep into your ears richly like fresh honey. The atmosphere was subdued, the short clinks of beer bottles and incomprehensible murmurs of frivolous conversations sating the air. It was the perfect place to think, to allow your mind to wander directionless through the never ending abyss of happenings and circumstances that had presented themselves down through the week. You made idle chitchat with the bartender about a laundry list of things of no particular significance, small smiles and light chuckles ringing from you both every now and then.

The night was going good, till you felt a creeping touch just at the low end of your back.

"Let me buy you a drink". The voice was rusted, withered by too much tobacco.

You held up the beer in your hand. "I've got already, I'm good".

This guy was tipsy, blood red creeping into his eyes, body swaying just the slightest bit. "Don't be like that, let me buy you another".

"I said I'm good", you asserted. The coolness of the bottle creating a tingling sensation in your hand. You'd crack it over his head if he touched you again.

"Sorry I'm late, everything alright?", another voice asked, but this one you knew. That deeply textured tone wrapping sweetly around your senses. You tore your irritated gaze set on the almost-drunk guy, softening it as you took Ezekiel in. He looked slightly different, refreshed it seemed, or maybe it was just his barbered hair. A Mayans kutte rested over him, comfortable like a second layer of skin, the black leather accentuating the swell of his muscles. You'd have to figure out later why your eyes diverted to them so often, they were becoming a hindrance to your thinking.

"Everything's good now", you played. Giving him a light peck to the cheek to sell the story. His arm wrapped around you in what appeared to be some reflexive reaction, all natural like he'd done it countless times before. When he realized Ezekiel wasn't leaving, the guy swayed away in true tipsy fashion. Mumbling incoherent things with a griped attitude. Ezekiel took his chair, the proximity of it in regards to yours making the point of his knee knock and slide the smooth plain of your jeans. You watched him take a glance over the bar before he called for a beer.

"Thanks for that".

"No problem", the corner of his lip turning up. "Seems like you've been needing my help a lot lately".

"Don't flatter yourself Reyes, this is just a coincidence".

"Any reason why you're at a bar alone?"

Your face screwed up in a show of confusion, but you could guess quickly the reason for the question. "Any reason why you're at a bar alone?"

He sipped at his beer. "Outside gets loud sometimes y'know, hectic. It's quiet in here. Good place to think".

"Exactly".

"A little unsafe for you though no?" And there it was.

"Everywhere's unsafe for me Ezekiel, I'm a woman. I mean I couldn't guarantee safety in my own home if I wanted to, but that's just how the world works". You paused, mischief rising in your face. "Don't worry though, I've got a little surprise for anyone who wants to test their luck".

"Oh really".

"Yeah, you men are dangerous out here. I gotta be prepared always".

His brows furrowed. "That's a bit of a big generalization to make".

"But if it's true it's true. Name one thing a man doesn't get dangerous about. Doesn't even have to be rejection", you say, turning to fully face him.

He considers the question for a moment, staring into the color of your eyes as if he'd find the answer in them. "Love".

"A man who loves, whose in love, would do any and everything, no matter how mad the shit is. He'd risk lives, his life even. If that's not dangerous then I don't know what is".

A speck of something lit in the hazel of his eyes. As if your words had brought to the present some memory buried deep within the grave of his soul. What you said hit rather close, closer than expected. "Who is she?"

"Doesn't matter, it's in the past".

"Humor me".

His jaw ticked before he spoke. "Her names Emily, but that shits all just history now. Doesn't matter". He turned the focus from himself. "What about you. Whose going all reckless about you".

"Who says he exist"

"You just did, I never specified who in particular".

So much for playing dumb. "His name is Jason".

"Sounds like an asshole".

You snort, the teasing of a headache coming as you thought on the insufferable man that was Jason. "He is. He's got that weird alpha male thing about him. Has to be in control of everything, doesn't know when to leave well enough alone".

The muted energy of the bar rose between the two of you, each taking quiet sips of your beer. You took notice of the way he surveyed the room from where he sat. That golden gaze sifting through the space and over bodies with quick ease. He was assessing, the gears in his head turning, calculating and considering every and all the possibilities of danger. It reminded you of someone.

"How long were you in for?", you ask.

"How'd you know?"

"You've been on the defensive since you sat down, lookin’ everywhere like someone's gonna up and shank you for no reason. My cousin was the same way when he got out, always looking over his shoulder". You shrugged. "Grew out of it eventually.

His eyes were a bit sullen, as if the truth would scare you. "Eight years".

"He was in for fifteen, and that prison shit is unbelievable, I mean the stories he's told me are crazy". You laugh suddenly at a memory, the resonance of it making him smile in admiration of the sound. "He did this thing for a while when he got home where he'd only have one knife, one fork and one spoon in his kitchen and I swear it was the funniest shit".

The smile falters, his body shifting awkwardly in the bar stool, embarrassed. 

"Oh my God Reyes don't tell me you've been doing the same thing".

"In my defense I live alone".

"But what if you have a special guest over, you'd be a sorry ass host", you tease.

"If you wanted to have dinner with me then just say that".

You force away the heat daring to rise in your cheeks. "We have to take a trip to home goods before I even consider a dinner with you”.

You both give hearty laughs, till the vibration in your pocket pulls your focus. With a quick slip of your phone, you realize how fast time had gone on. “Shit I gotta go, but it was real nice seeing you again Ezekiel".

"It was good seeing you too".

You press your hand against his patch, laying a sweet lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Make it home in one piece for me yeah".

"I have to. You might need me again".

"I'm counting on it".

✞✞✞✞✞

You were a joke it seemed, the universe and fate in a gaming mood, as they were using you as a source for their own amusement. Commissioning their faithful associate to do the heavy lifting of masking their scents. The two of you were at the right place, at the right time again, what a damn coincidence. Before the present week, you'd never even seen Ezekiel's face, just learning of his existence a week or so before that, and now you'd seen him twice in a matter of days. This night being the third.

He was surrounded by men who donned the same kutte as him, curious eyes swimming through the sea of bodies as they did in every other setting, till they met yours. He came to you without a second thought, eyeing the tight leather of your pants and how they clung to your thighs. The cropped cut of your vintage top revealing skin he longed to touch. Since the first time he saw you his mind raced with thoughts of your voice, visions of your lips touching his skin again, plaguing his body with the desire to have you.

You stepped away from your group of friends, meeting him half way. "You're just stalking me at this point. Not that I mind".

He clutched the openings of his kutte, that signature grin lighting his face, even with the casting over of the nights darkness. "Something told me I'd see you again. How's your RT?"

"Good, resting in my garage. I've been kinda scary about replacing the battery".

"Why?"

"I'm good with cars don't get me wrong, but something about fucking it up just makes me sick. It's a lot of history behind that car. I don't wanna destroy it".

"Understandable", he nodded. Noting the caution behind your words, the way you spoke with such passion and care about the thing you loved. It was endearing.

The heavy crunch of gravel and sand tore through the beginnings of some silent stare, an undeniable enticement brewing. It was Angel.

"I see you met this asshole already", the older Reyes said.

"I'm not an asshole Angel, just 'cause I turned you down".

He sent a smirk your way. "You didn't turn me down, we made a mutual decision that you couldn't handle me remember?"

"Right. That's exactly how it went".

A call sounded through the dewy air of the night, signifying the start of a race. You started toward a cherry red car.

"That's me", you said. In regards to the call.

Ezekiel was confused, intrigued. "You racing?"

"Yeah, the mustang", you called, strutting over to your 1970's Mustang, adding the slightest dip to your hips. Giving the brothers something to admire, before dropping low into the leather seats.

With a quick twist, the mustang roared to life, the rumble tearing through the air, growling like a fierce rolling thunder through hazy storm clouds. Another car pulled up on your right, the blue electric color of it dazzling, clashing against the fine cherry red of your own to deliver a sweet contrast for the eyes that watched on in excitement. A woman, with a dangled bandana in her hand, set herself between your car and the other, whistles of admiration thrown her way as she gave the summer evening crowd an alluring smile. At the point of her finger you revved your engine, adrenaline pumping through your veins, rushing from your chest to pulse under your skin. The leather feel of the steering wheel was smooth, the grip you held to it steady. With the downward pull of her hands she set both cars to race and you pulled your mustang swift into the night.

The road before you was a muddled darkness, the outward spreading glow of your headlights stabbing it and tearing it apart as your wheels took a glide against the smooth road. At the mark line, you shifted your car into reverse, whipping left, back into drive, soaring back down the road to where the crowd watched and waited. Their rigid bodies of anticipation lit by your headlights, bellowing screams waning under the busting sound of your revving engine. Your mustang tore through the finishing mark, the tingle of victory surging through you.

Pulling back up to the crowd, you rolled your window down, a slim roll of hundreds placed in your hand by the guy who’d set the race up. You showed up to win and now you were done.

Ezekiel and Angel were a little ways away from your car, your voice carrying over to them. "A little party at my place. You and your guys are cool to come".

They both nodded, heading to their bikes when Angel answered after you. "We'll follow you".

Ezekiel swung his leg, resting on the seat of his bike as he buckled the helmet over his head, his fingers gripping the ape hangers, feeling the vibration of the engine as he followed the sleek vibrant red of your car. The afternoon he met you, he'd been turmoiled, plagued with the natural uncertainties that came with being a member of the MC. That new patch stitched into the upper corner of his kutte had bought a sense of pride and belonging he hadn't felt in forever, it gave him drive, fueled his determination, but as the saying goes, all that glitters is not good. Expectation deceived him, the reality of all things made clear. And that reality was shoveling makeshift graves for men whose names he couldn't even remember, but he remembered yours. Committed himself to it like the loving kiss he gave to the jar that held the remnants of his mother every time he stepped a foot into his fathers house.

He found you flustered, out of yourself with anxiety in the dimming light of the afternoon, and then at the bar, body rigid, eyes wired and ready to do your worst to a guy who could barely keep his posture straight, and now he was following behind you, backing his bike toward the sidewalk that laid just in front your home.

Upon entry, the knock of the speakers bled a thumping bass that pulsated through the floors. Your home had seemed to expand with every new corner that came into view, the walls pushing back to make room for the swell and scatter of bodies. Sweet smells mixed with more pungent ones, the hazy aroma of weed slipping past him as he walked further into the house. A hand placed itself at his side. It was you.

"Can I get you a drink? A beer or something".

"Yeah a beer is cool".

You intertwined your fingers with his, leading him to the kitchen where the sound settled some. Beer bottles clinked, the air releasing as you opened them, handing one over to him.

He gave a quiet "thanks" before sipping, eyeing the way your lips wrapped around the top of the bottle to taste the liquid. They looked soft, full and alluring. He redirected his gaze before the temptation overtook him to do something impulsive that had the prospect of unnerving you. His eyes flitted to the side of your face, an illustration about two inches or so etched into your skin. He hadn't noticed it till now.

You could feel him staring as you tasted the beer, the heat of it tingling your skin. "It's a dagger".

He reached forward, thumb skimming over the finely crafted design, it was a professionals work. With the simple touch of his thumb, your nerves were riling, heat rushing to pulse under your skin, he could feel it. It drew him closer, lured him in. "Did it hurt?".

"Like hell, but when you've felt more painful shit, tattoos like this don't really compare". You lifted the hem of your top some, bringing his fingers to feel the raised skin there. Four inches or so worth of a healed gash rested under his considerate touch. "Got it when I spent a year and a half inside. Grand theft", you admitted.

The reasoning behind telling him wasn't sound in the slightest bit, but what was reasoning when Ezekiel had awakened such dormant feelings inside you. With those beautiful, sunny colored eyes and the warm hand caressing your side, you were liable to tell everything. Truths you hated and dark secrets that laid deep inside your past. You reached up to lay a kiss to those pouty lips, the feel of them mesmeric, dazing. Fulfillment burdened itself onto you, finally you'd got a taste of that rosy pink bottom lip, and now your body was calling for more. Begging for it with such longing that you licked your way through his mouth, his tongue acting in kind. It was slow and all consuming, his body pressing you into the counter to surround you.

"Come with me", your voice airy. Breathless. You lead him to the back of the house. Your room first on the right. A gasp left you when your feet left the floor, body in his arms as he laid you against the fresh feel of the sheets. You kicked your shoes off with ease but the discarding of other pieces left behind a sinking feeling, a pressure forming in your chest to push down straight into your gut. He was glorious, the plains of his skin bound by rich thick tanned muscles and long veins. The dilation of his pupils darkened the air around him, physique imposing. This is what you’d wanted, Why were you feeling so anxious all of a sudden?

"What's wrong?"

Your body had raced miles ahead of your mind and now you were trying to catch up. "I don't know, I just... I feel..."

"Nervous".

"It's sounds so stupid when you say it out loud".

"But it's not, It's natural, and I'll do whatever you want me to do. Whatever makes you feel comfortable baby".

He sounded so sure of it, it made you believe him. You laid against the pillows, beckoning him with the outstretch of your fingers. "C'mere".

He obeyed, body atop yours, your legs wrapping loosely around his waist as your head tilted up to give those lips another kiss. It was messy this time, fueled by desperation, your tongues slow to lick as they tasted each other's. The remnants of beer still there. He took hold of your lip, sharp teeth pulling before he kissed his way down to the heated flesh of your neck. There he sucked, bombarding your skin with pressure causing your hips to grind against the coarse fabric of his jeans. The thin cotton layer of your underwear leaving you to erupt with a fresh wave of need. He feathered kisses down your body, pushing your legs up and apart to open yourself for him. A shudder drove down your spine, that soft wide tongue of his licking so close to where you needed him. He peeled away your underwear leaving you bare before him.

"Talk to me baby. What do you need".

You could hear the pulse of your heart in your ears. "Take care of me Ezekiel, make me feel good".

He hummed, loving the airiness of your voice. So drenched with need for him you were. He was methodical despite the desire boiling in his blood threatening to burn through his skin, so he'd settled with toying with you for now. Giving that sweet glistening clit teasing licks. They were measured, the constraint of them existing solely to wreck you, to kill your resolve completely till you were reduced to in-apprehensible words filled with air. The wide-ness of his tongue felt so good, your nails running over the faded part of his head as your hips drew tight circles.

The teasing, the game of it all. He didn't know but you loved it so much. "That feels so good baby, so good", you praised.

Your words were disembodied, wandering in another plain of existence as they rolled off your lips. Your senses were bursting at the seems, and then reborn again to erupt on impact when he sucked against your sensitive nub, lapping your slick salaciously. As if he'd been starved for years, only just finding you now. The line of your spine arched, waist swiveling, grinding to meet his wet tongue. A low "fuck" fell in the air as your felt the rise of your impending release. With taut, rough fingers he hooked at the back of your knees, pushing them into the sheets. The action opened you completely to him, no choice but to surrender to his will and the feel of his lips as he drew you closer to the edge.

"Please, I'm so close", you whimpered. Vision splotchy, thump in your ears intensifying.

He sucked at you again, holding his lips still as your body shook. Quivering against the sheets. He reverted back to soft licks, tasting as you rode the high.

He rose when you settled, eyeing the heavy rise and fall of your chest as he did away with his jeans. "You Ok?"

It took you time to register the question but when you did, you threw a pillow at him. "You just sucked the soul out of me, don't ask me that damn question".

He laughed, watching your eyes dim in bliss. You hadn't noticed, but he'd done away with his underwear as well, the weight of him causing the bed to dip as he came up to where you laid. His thick fingers rolled you over, setting your face to rest against the pillows as your hips raised in the air to rest against the hot flesh of his length, the veined skin laying along your slit. You moaned in anticipation, pushing back against him.

He gripped your cheeks, spreading them to see the quivering flesh of your opening, the flushed pink shinning in the dim light of the room. His tongue slipped against his bottom lip again, reveling in the taste of you as he pushed in. He groaned, and you gave a single fleeting "yes" , the thickness of him giving a delicious stretch, rigid length hot as he pushed and pulled in and out of your depths in a slow manner. Wanting to test the waters same as he did moments ago before building you back up again. The squeeze of you made his chest tight, head swimming with delirium.

"You feel so good mama, so tight around me", he groaned.

His thrust were dizzying as they picked up to set a steady pace, your hips rolling and pushing to take him deeper. To reach that place in you that would force your vision to blur and be replaced by disfigured stars. You reach to lay a finger at your overstimulated bundle of nerves, rubbing the soft slick flesh with lazy pleasuring circles that spurred the knot in your gut to grow. A single tear fell to dampen the pillow, your depths tightening at how full you felt, at how unrelenting the stimulation of his strokes were.

The sharp drive of his hips made you go rigid, the vice like grip you formed around him causing him to fall into his own high. Pace going all slow sloppy to ride out the blissful feeling.

He pulled from you, both your body and his collapsing against the bed. His face formed with satisfaction, a beautiful buzz running through him. "You know what this means right?"

"What", you asked.

"We’ll have to see each other around more often now".

[felassan]

Insights into DAI’s development from Blood, Sweat, and Pixels

The book is by game industry journalist Jason Schreier (it’s an interesting read and well-written, I recommend it). This is the cliff notes version of the DAI chapter. This info isn’t new as the book is from 2017 (I finally got around to buying it). Some insight into DAO, DA2 and cancelled DA projects is also given. Cut for length.

BW hoped that DA would become the LotR of video games. DAO’s development was “a hellish seven-year slog”

The DAI team are compared to a chaotic “pirate ship”, which is what they called themselves internally. “It’ll get where it needs to go, but it’s going to go all over the place. Sail over here. Drink some rum. Go over here. Do something else. That’s how Mark Darrah likes to run his team.” An alternative take from someone else who worked on the game: “It was compared to a pirate ship because it was chaotic and the loudest voice in the room usually set the direction. I think they smartly adopted the name and morphed it into something better.”

A game about the Inquisition and the large-scale political conflicts it solves across Thedas, where the PC was the Inquisitor, was originally the vision for ‘DA2′. Plans had to change when SW:TOR’s development kept stalling and slipping. Frustrated EA execs wanted a new product from BW to bolster quarterly sales targets, and decided that DA would have to fill the gap. BW agreed to deliver DA2 within 16 months. “Basically, DA2 exists to fill that hole. That was the inception. It was always intended to be a game made to fit in that”

BW wanted to call it DA: Exodus, but EA’s marketing execs insisted on DA2, no matter what that name implied

DAO’s scope (Origin stories, that amount of big areas, variables, reactivity) was just not doable in a year, even if everyone worked overtime. To solve this problem, BW shelved the Inquisition idea and made a risky call: DA2 would be set in one city over time, allowing locations to be recycled and months to be shaved off dev time. They also axed DAO features like customizing party members’ equipment. These were the best calls they were able to make on a tight line

Many at BW are still proud of DA2. Those that worked on it grew closer from all being in it together

In certain dark accounting corners of EA, despite fan response to DA2 and its lower sales compared to DAO, DA2 is considered a wild success

By summer 2011 BW decided to cancel DA2′s expansion Exalted March in favor of a totally new game. They needed to get away from the stigma of DA2, reboot the franchise and show they could make triple-A quality good games. 

DAI was going to be the most ambitious game BW had ever made and had a lot to prove (that BW could return to form, that EA wasn’t crippling the studio, that BW could make an ‘open-world’ RPG with big environments). There was a bit of a tone around the industry that there were essentially 2 tiers of BW, the ME team and then everyone else, and the DA team had a scrappy desire to fight back against that

DAI was behind schedule early on due to unfamiliar new technology; the new engine Frostbite was very technically challenging and required more work than anyone had expected. Even before finishing DA2 BW were looking for a new engine for the next game. Eclipse was creaky, obsolete, not fully-featured, graphically lacking. The ME team used Unreal, which made inter-team collab difficult. “Our tech strategy was just a mess. Every time we’d start a new game, people would say, ‘Oh, we should just pick a new engine’.”

After meeting with an EA exec BW decided on Frostbite. Nobody had ever used it to make an RPG, but EA owned FB dev studio DICE, and the engine was powerful and had good graphic capabilities & visual effects. If BW started making all its games on FB, it could share tech with sister studios and borrow tools when they learned cool new tricks. 

For a while they worked on a prototype called Blackfoot, to get a feel for FB and to make a free-to-play DA MP game. It fizzled as the team was too small, which doesn’t lend itself well to working with FB, and was cancelled

BW resurfaced the old Inquisition idea. What might a DA3 look like on FB? Their plan by 2012 was to make an open-world RPG heavily inspired by Skyrim that hit all the beats DA2 couldn’t. “My secret mission was to shock and awe the players with the massive amounts of content.” People complained there wasn’t enough in DA2. “At the end of DAI, I actually want people to go, ‘Oh god, not [another] level’.”

It was originally called Dragon Age 3: Inquisition

BW wanted to launch on next-gen consoles only but EA’s profit forecasters were caught up in the rise of iPad and iPhone gaming and were worried the next-gen consoles wouldn’t sell well. As a safeguard EA insist it also ship on current-gen. Most games at that time followed this strategy. Shipping on 5 platforms at once would be a first for BW

Ambitions were piling up. This was to be BW’s first 3D open-world game, and their first game on Frostbite, an engine that had never been used to make RPGs. It needed to be made in roughly two years, it needed to ship on 5 platforms, and, oh yeah, it needed to restore the reputation of a studio that had been beaten up pretty badly. “Basically we had to do new consoles, a new engine, new gameplay, build the hugest game that we’ve ever made, and build it to a higher standard than we ever did. With tools that don’t exist.”

FB didn’t have RPG stats, a visible PC, spells, save systems, a party of 4 people, the same kind of cutscenes etc and couldn’t create any of those things. BW had to create these on top of it. BW initially underestimated how much work this would be. BW were the FB guinea pigs. Early on in DAI’s development, even the most basic tasks were excruciating, and this impacted even fundamental aspects of game design and dev. When FB’s tools did function they were finicky and difficult. DICE’s team supported them but had limited resources and were 8 hours ahead. Since creating new content in FB was so difficult, trying to evaluate its quality became impossible. FB engine updates made things even more challenging. After every one, BW had to manually merge and test it; this was debilitating, and there were times when the build didn’t work for a month or was really unstable.

Meanwhile the art department were having a blast. FB was great for big beautiful environments. For months they made as much as possible, taking educated guesses when they didn’t know yet what the designers needed. “For a long time there was a joke on the project that we’d made a fantastic-looking screenshot generator, because you could walk around these levels with nothing to do. You could take great pictures.”

The concept of DAI as open-world was stymying the story/writers and gameplay/designers teams. What were players going to do in these big landscapes? How could BW ensure exploring remained fun after many hours? Their teams didn’t have time for system designers to envision, iterate and test a good “core gameplay loop” (quests, encounters, activities etc). FB wouldn’t allow it. Designers couldn’t test new ideas or answer questions because basic features were missing or didn’t exist yet. 

EA’s CEO told BW they should have the ability to ride dragons and that this would make DAI sell 10 million copies. BW didn’t take this idea very seriously

BW had an abstract idea that the player would roam the world solving problems and building up power or influence they could use. But how would that look/work like in-game? This could have used refinement and testing but instead they decided to build some levels and hope they could figure it out as they went.

One day in late 2012, after a year of strained development on DAI, Mark Darrah asked Mike Laidlaw to go to lunch. “We’re walking out to his car,” Laidlaw said, “and I think he might have had a bit of a script in his head. [Darrah] said, ‘All right, I don’t actually know how to approach this, so I’m just going to say it. On a scale of one to apocalyptic... how upset would you be if I said [the player] could be, I dunno, a Qunari Inquisitor?’” 

Laidlaw was baffled. They’d decided that the player could be only a human in DAI. Adding other playable races like Darrah was asking for would mean they’d need to quadruple their budget for animation, voice acting, and scripting.

“I went, ‘I think we could make that work’,” Laidlaw said, asking Darrah if he could have more budget for dialogue. 

Darrah answered that if Laidlaw could make playable races happen, he couldn’t just have more dialogue. He could have an entire year of production.

Laidlaw was thrilled. “Fuck yeah, OK,” he recalled saying.

MD had actually already realized at this point it’d be impossible to finish DAI in 2013. They needed at least a year’s delay and adding the other playable races was part of a plan/planned pitch to secure this. He was in the process of putting together a pitch to EA: let BW delay the game, and in exchange it’d be bigger and better that anyone at EA had envisioned. These new marketing points included playable races, mounts and a new tactical camera. If EA wouldn’t let them delay, they would have had to cut things. Going into that BW were confident but nervous, especially in the wake of EA’s recent turmoil where they’d just parted ways with their CEO and had recruited a new board member while they hunted for a new one. They didn’t know how the new board member would react, and the delay would affect EA’s projections for that fiscal year. Maybe it was the convincing pitch, or the exec turmoil, or the specter of DA2, or maybe EA didn’t like being called “The Worst Company in America”. Winning that award 2 years in a row had had a tangible impact on the execs and led to feisty internal meetings on how to repair EA’s image. Whatever the reasons, EA greenlit the delay.

The PAX Crestwood demo was beautiful but almost entirely fake. By fall 2013, BW had implemented many of FB’s ‘parts’, but still didn’t know what kind of ‘car’ they were making. ML and team scripted the PAX demo by hand, entirely based on what BW thought would be in the game. The level & art assets were real but the gameplay wasn’t. “Part of what we had to do is go out early and try to be transparent because of DA2. And just say, ‘Look, here, it’s the game, it’s running live, it’s at PAX.’ Because we wanted to make that statement that we’re here for fans.”

DA2 hung on the team like a shadow. There was insecurity, uncertainty, they had trouble sticking to one vision. Which DA2 things were due to the short dev time and which were bad calls? What stuff should they reinvent? There were debates over combat (DAO-style vs DA2-style) and arguments over how to populate the wilderness.

In the months after that demo, BW cut much of what they’d shown in it. Even small features went through many permutations. DAI had no proper preproduction phase (important for testing and discarding things), so leads were stretched thin and had to make impulsive decisions.

By the end of 2013, DAI had 200+ people working on it, and dozens of additional outsourced artists in Russia and China. Coordinating all the work across various departments was challenging and a full-time job for several people. At this sheer scale of game dev, there are many complexities and inter-dependencies. Work finally became significantly less tedious and more doable when BW and DICE added more features to FB. Time was running out though, and another delay was a no.

The team spent many hours in November and December piecing together a “narrative playable” version of the game to be the holiday period’s game build for BW staff to test that year. Feedback on the demo was bad. There were big complaints on story, that it didn’t make sense and was illogical. Originally the PC became Inquisitor and sealed the breach in the prologue, which removed a sense of urgency. In response the writers embarked on Operation Sledgehammer (breaking a bone to set it right), radically revising the entire first act.

The other big piece of negative feedback was that battles weren’t fun. Daniel Kading, who had recently joined BW and brought with him a rigorous new method for testing combat in games, went to BW leadership with a proposal: give him authority to open his own little lab with the other designers and call up the entire team for mandatory play sessions for test purposes. They agreed and he used this experiment to get test feedback and specifically pinpoint where problems were. Morale took a turn for the better that week, DK’s team made several tweaks, and through these sessions feedback ratings went from 1.2 to 8.8 four weeks later.

Many on the team wished they didn’t have to ship for old consoles (clunky, less powerful). BW leadership decided not to add features to the next-gen versions that wouldn’t be possible on the older ones, so that both versions of the game played the same. This limited things and meant the team had to find creative solutions. “I probably should’ve tried harder to kill [the last-gen] version of the game”, said Aaryn Flynn. In the end the next-gen consoles sold very well and only 10% of DAI sales were on last-gen.

“A lot of what we do is well-intentioned fakery,” said Patrick Weekes, pointing to a late quest called “Here Lies The Abyss”. “When you assault the fortress, you have a big cut scene that has a lot of Inquisition soldiers and a lot of Grey Wardens on the walls. And then anyone paying attention or looking for it as you’re fighting through the fortress will go, ‘Wow, I’m only actually fighting three to four guys at a time.’ Because in order for that to work [on old gen], you couldn’t have too many different character types on screen.”

Parts of DAI were still way behind schedule because it was so big and complex, and because some tools hadn’t started functioning until late on. Some basic features weren’t able to be implemented til the last minute (they were 8 months from ship before they could get all party members in the squad. At one point PW was playtesting to check if Iron Bull’s banter was firing, and realized there was no way to even recruit IB) and some flaws couldn’t be identified til the last few months. Trying to determine flow and pacing was rough.

They couldn’t disappoint fans again. They needed to take the time to revise and polish every aspect of DAI. “I think DAI is a direct response to DA2,” said Cameron Lee. “DAI was bigger than it needed to be. It had everything but the kitchen sink in it, to the point that we went too far... I think that having to deal with DA2 and the negative feedback we got on some parts of that was driving the team to want to put everything in and try to address every little problem or perceived problem.”

At this point they had 2 options: settle for an incomplete game, which would disappoint fans especially post-DA2, or crunch. They opted to crunch. It was the worst period of extended overtime in DAI’s development yet and was really rough: late nights, weekends, lost family time, 12-14 hour days, stress, mental health impacts.

During 2014′s crunch, they finally finished off features they wished they’d nailed down in year 1. They completed the Power (influence) system and added side quests, hidden treasures and puzzles. Things that weren’t working like destructible environments were promptly removed. The writers rewrote the prologue at least 6 times, but didn’t have enough time to pay such attention to the ending. Just a few months before launch pivotal features like jumping were added.

By summer BW had bumped back release by another 6 weeks for polish. DAI had about 99,000 bugs in it (qualitative and quantitative; things like “I was bored here” are a bug). “The number of bugs on an open-world game, I’ve never seen anything like it. But they’re all so easy to fix, so keep filing these bugs and we’ll keep fixing them.” For BW it was harder to discover them, and the QA team had to do creative experimentation and spend endless late nights testing things. PW would take builds home to let their 9 year old son play around. Their son was obsessed with mounting and dismounting the horse and accidentally discovered a bug where if you dismounted in the wrong place, all your companions’ gear would vanish. “It was because my son liked the horse so much more than anyone else ever had or will ever like the horse.”

MD had a knack for prioritizing which bugs should be fixed, like the one where you could get to inaccessible areas by jumping on Varric’s head. “Muscle memory is incredibly influential at this point. Through the hellfire which is game development, we’re forged into a unit, in that we know what everyone’s thinking and we understand everyone’s expectations.”

At launch they still didn’t have all their tools working, they only had their tools working enough.

DAI became the best-selling DA game, beating EA’s sales expectations in just a few weeks. If you look closely you can see the lingering remnants of its chaotic development, like the “garbage quests” in the Hinterlands. Some players didn’t realize they could leave the area and others got caught in a “weird, compulsive gratification loop”. Internet commentators rushed to blame “those damn lazy devs” but really, these were the natural consequences of DAI’s struggles. Maybe things would have been different if they’d miraculously received another year of dev time, or if they’d had years before starting development to build FB’s tools first.

“The challenge of the Hinterlands and what it represented to the opening 10 hours of DAI is exactly the struggle of learning to build open-world gameplay and mechanisms when you are a linear narrative story studio,” said Aaryn Flynn.

“DA2 was the product of a remarkable time-line challenge,” said Mike Laidlaw, “DAI was the product of a remarkable technical challenge. But it had enough time to cook, and as a result it was a much better game.”

Read the chapter for full details of course!

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Fruity

Summary: Being personal security for the president, Laxus always had to be alert, particularly in a foreign country. This would be fine, if it weren't for the beautiful waiter who kept catching his eye at every moment.

Notes: This is for day five of Fraxus Week 2021. As normal, check out @fuckyeahfraxus for more content.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

From the Fields of Italy

Year: 1922

Location: Rome, Italy

Dissasosaition was a key part of Laxus' job. Being a member of the President's personal security team meant he was privy to multiple private and politically significant conversations. Debates, arguments, and compromises would be made in front of him, and he would learn things that a man of his station had no right knowing. Another man might have taken the opportunity to eavesdrop, but Laxus cared little for that. His entire focus was to be on protecting his charge, and as such the politics were unimportant.

Particularly when the dick seemed to stand against everything Laxus cared about.

It had become necessary to learn to focus on other things. Counting the bricks on a nearby building, watching as people passed by, and sometimes going so far as to make up little rhymes and brain teasers in his head. It all allowed him to drown out the bullshit the president was talking about, and better do his job.

Of course, he did focus. Anyone approaching the president was immediately a danger, and Laxus had to watch every move they made, particularly when they were out of country. When Laxus had been told that the president would be undergoing a European tour to better connect with the other countries now that the war was long over, he had known it would be difficult. Anyone might take issue with the president's international opinions, and as such Laxus needed to be wary of everyone near him.

This would have been acceptable – it was his job, after all – but an issue had arisen. The waiter.

The beautiful waiter

Even thinking of the man as beautiful was unprofessional. Laxus was there to do a job, not indulge in his own interests. It was why he'd been consistently given small rooms, cheap and uncomfortable seats in the flight, and little to no respect from his employers. He was there to do a job, not to enjoy himself.

But there was something about the man that was alluring. He was of a good height, with slighter features than Laxus' own but strong in his own sense. His skin had the slight tan that came with the European sun, and a single mark below his eye was the only break from perfect symmetry. His long hair swished down his back in long, silky strands, and Laxus had found himself wondering what it would feel like to run his hand through.

The man was serving the president, who didn't give him a second glance. He brought water, food, and cutlery without making his presence known, and yet Laxus was transfixed. He was quietly elegant in his movements, walking with the slightest sway and it felt like he was dancing around the room with each step.

How was nobody else being affected by this?

Maybe they were, and just hid it. That's what Laxus was forced to do. He stood as part of a circle of six, allowing the president to eat safely in the public restaurant. No doubt the people around them posed no actual threat; even if the stop in the restaurant looked impromptu, it had been planned months in advance and no doubt all the people had booked upon hearing it, and had been checked over time and time again. It was all for show; just a gentle reminder that, although the Italian people might not be pleased about the president's actions during the war, they couldn't do anything about it. They needed to look stone faced and intimidating.

The waiter wasn't at all intimidated. He was completely uncaring towards the fact the president was before him, and instead acted as though he was any other customer. He'd even asked the president a question directly, and was unblinking at the glare he was given for his rudeness.

Watching the man was like watching a show. Laxus just didn't know how it would end.

By the time, the main course had been brought out, Laxus had regained his focus. He was there to protect the man sitting and eating, not to be quietly fascinated by the man who was bringing him his food. Laxus got passing fancies on men often, it was natural given his inclination for men and the inability to actually follow through on anything because of his duties. This was no more than seeing a man he would like to dance with at a club. The waiter just had the unfamiliar addition of not being American, and therefore felt somewhat exotic.

He'd told himself that, and convinced himself it was true, until the desserts were brought out. The waiter placed them before the president and his party and, just as he turned to return to the kitchen, he looked to Laxus and smiled.

Laxus felt like he'd been struck.

No smile had affected him, not in any way. Laxus was hardly a romantic person, and the idea that someone might smile at you and turn your world around was overly sweetened crap written in books to appeal to lonely people. But as the waiter looked at him for just the smallest of moments, hair falling across his face slightly as his white teeth split apart, he felt nauseous and ignited all at once. He couldn't think of any other way to describe it.

The man went back to the kitchen, and Laxus knew his stance had wavered and his concentration gone. For a moment he stood in a gaping silence, wanting to both flee the scene and to storm into the kitchen to demand an explanation for what had happened. Instead, he caught the eye of his commander, who glared him back to attention.

He just had to ignore the waiter. Push him to the back of his mind, and within the hour he'd be gone.

---

"What are you eating?"

The words were a silky-smooth sensation, and deeply Italian. Laxus took a moment to realise that he was being addressed, and turned with the smallest of frowns to see who had spoken to him. He was alone, and he certainly didn't know anyone who spoke in such a chocolatey accent. Nobody on his team had even half the rumbling baritone, and he found himself wondering who that voice would belong to.

When he turned and saw the waiter, he froze.

How was the man here? It was the evening now, and Laxus was nowhere near the restaurant the waiter worked at. He was somewhere tucked away, not in the tourist areas of the city but not exactly near the residential areas. He supposed this was where a pretentious man might call the 'Real Italy.' Did the man live here?

Before he could fall into questions, he realised what the waiter had asked. He looked down to the chalky lettuce and cheese sandwich he'd been given for his evening meal, then back to the man who was frowning at him.

"A sandwich," Laxus said, because what else could he say.

"A sandwich," The waiter parroted.

"Yes."

"You realise that you're insulting everyone from my country by eating that here, don't you?"

"If you wanna take it up with my commander, feel free."

"You could not buy something more respectable?"

"Not allowed to carry money around."

Why was he talking with the man? Well, he knew at least in part it was because he had been truly spellbound by the man, and the revelation of his incredible voice had only further added to the man's majesty. Laxus was not one to shy away from strong emotions – not that he felt them often – and he wasn't going to cower now that an opportunity had presented itself to him. But why were they talking about his dinner?

The man, in the dimming sun, looked radiant. He still wore the uniform of the restaurant, but his hair hung loose now, and he seemed more relaxed. Now, without the need to watch his charge, Laxus could see the sharp cut of the man's jaw and the deceptive fragility of his skin. He truly was beautiful.

"That is ridiculous, and certainly not acceptable," The waiter sounded affronted. "Come."

Laxus processed the demand a moment later, and found himself following him before he could think. Both survival instincts and training deemed this a stupid idea – he was following a total stranger through an unfamiliar city – and yet he did it anyway. The man had authority, and Laxus had been attracted by it.

"I would have thought you'd be looking after that repulsive man you deemed fit to lead you," The waiter commented when Laxus was in step with him. So he had remembered Laxus then; he hadn't been sure.

"Night off," Laxus shrugged. "And I don't think he's fit to lead. But the vote said that he was."

"And yet you still serve him?"

"It's a living."

"Hardly seems like living when you're leaning against a building eating bread and cheese because of your commander while in a cultural monolith known for its delicacies," The man hummed aloud, turning a corner, and increasing his pace. "In my mind, that it more a way to get money than a way to live."

"It is what it is."

"Your employer ate at a lavish restaurant, had four courses and larger servings than normal," The man shrugged. "It was expensive. The money could have been diverted from him to you."

"That's not how it works."

The waiter didn't say anything after that. He kept walking, and Laxus kept following.

Eventually, an open-air marketplace appeared, and the waiter walked directly towards it. Laxus kept in pace, allowing himself to be guided through the vendors who shouted for their attention and custom. Laxus' Italian was bad at best, and so the shouting merged into a mess of unfamiliar slang, and so he let the waiter take the lead completely. He spoke to vendors, passers-by, and did so with beautifully fluent Italian. Logically Laxus knew that would be the case – the man was Italian for god's sake – but it was beautiful to hear.

Quickly, they were at the other end of the market, and the waiter had accrued a hamper of food and a bottle of wine. He'd paid for it all himself and, as their conversation hadn't continued, Laxus found himself wondering where his place in the situation was. Still, he followed.

"Sit," The waiter said again, motioning to a small stone wall overlooking a stream.

"You're demanding," Laxus commented, but he did sit.

"And you work a job where you follow orders of a man you don't like, so I suspect it won't bother you," The waiter sat on the wall also, and placed the hamper between them. "My name is Freed. What's yours?"

"Laxus."

"It's strong," Freed commented, unwrapping some of the food from the hamper. He made a gesture towards the food as he uncorked the wine. "Eat."

"What?"

"Eat."

Laxus looked down to the hamper of food. It was filled mainly with fresh and colourful looking fruit, but also wrapped packets of cheese, biscuits and two small pastries. He hesitated for a moment, and glanced up towards Freed. The man was looking at him with a peculiar mix of intensity and patience, and Laxus felt himself flushing slightly as he reached into the hamper and tentatively picked up a strawberry. Freed waited patiently, watching Laxus as he slowly brought the strawberry to his lips and bit into it.

Well, he certainly didn't expect it to taste quite so… vibrant.

Apparently, his expression must have betrayed his shock, as Freed laughed openly. Laxus wanted to glare, but instead found himself hypnotised as Freed lifted the opened wine to his lips and drank straight from the bottle. Good god, did the man know what he was doing to Laxus?

"You must have travelled a lot over the past few weeks," Freed stated, reaching into the hamper, and pulling out the wrapped cheese. He pulled out a chunk of it, crumbled it and placed it onto a cracker. He then picked up a single grape, placed it atop the cheese and ate it. Laxus found himself following the movement of his neck as Freed swallowed.

"Suppose so," Laxus nodded.

"Anywhere particularly interesting to you?"

"Not really," Laxus replied. He hesitated for a moment, then looked down to the hamper of food and pulled out an apple. He bit into it before he could second-guess himself. "It's my second night off since we landed, and the first night was at a docking town so hardly beautiful."

"Good," Freed commented. "Rome will look rather good in comparison then."

"So far, yeah."

"Perhaps one day you will return as a tourist?"

"Doubt it, can't afford it."

"Shame," Freed hummed, looking towards Laxus with the same beautiful smile that sent a flicker through Laxus' spine. "You should make the most of your night here."

"Suppose I should."

They were quiet, and Laxus could feel Freed's eyes roaming over him unapologetically. Laxus didn't do anything to stop it, and instead took a bite of his apple and allowed the man's eyes to wander. He might have tensed his bicep when he knew Freed was looking at his arms, and Freed laughed but made no complaint.

He looked beautiful when he laughed and Laxus wondered how he could get better. He was quickly answered because what Freed did made him radiant.

It was nothing, really. He simply had taken one of the large peaches that he'd brought and bit into it. That was hardly anything, and yet it made Laxus' stomach churn. The way the mans eyes closed, the way his teeth closed around the fruit, the way the juice seemed to intentionally drip down his throat, coating it in an indescribable sheen of fruit-flavoured droplets that reflected the flickering lights surrounding them.

When Freed's eyes opened again, he looked directly to Laxus. He paused for a moment, eyes scanning Laxus' face, before he grinned a little. It was a private sight, and Laxus found himself copying the expression.

"As I said," Freed spoke again, voice quieter. "Make the most of it while you're here."

Laxus didn't need to be told twice. He leant forward and pressed their lips together, the tantalising taste of fruit and cheese melding as they leant into one another. Laxus did what he'd wanted to do the moment he saw Freed, and wrapped a hand deep into his hair, and slowly began to stroke it as he leant into the man. Freed groaned slightly, tilting his chin, and kissing him deeper.

He didn't care that someone might see him, it didn't matter. He was in an unknown city from a foreign country where nobody knew him, and he would indulge himself. He would take what he wanted, and delight in the company of this beautiful man and take whatever he would be given.

He deserved this, and if nothing else, he would always have the memory of kissing the enchantingly handsome man. An untainted memory for him to cherish.

[ahoney--girl]

Chapter 4

A little smut at the end a lot of set up everywhere else. 

Trigger warnings for blow job, self doubt, light BDSM 

“Butt plug?” 

“Green” 

“Blowjobs?” 

“Green” 

“Spanking?”

“Green” 

“Consent non consent?”

“Red” 

“Rope play”

“Yellow”

Johnny walked back from the kitchen handing me the plate with freshly made grilled cheese and some water. Smiling at him he took his spot back in the seat beside Jaehyun 

“Can I ask you something?” My voice wavered as I shifted in my spot on the couch. Looking from Johnny to Jaehyun they sat shirtless in front of me. “Anything sweetheart.” He smiled reassuringly almost hard to believe that he was the same man denying me my orgasm for 20 minutes straight only minutes ago. “I just was wondering if you have any rules uh for me to follow like  outside of the bedroom.” My voice trailed off towards the end, my eyes falling to my grilled cheese. As I bite into it a soft chuckle comes from one of the boys looking up. “Do you want rules baby?” Johnny questions his normal mischievous smirk growing into a smile. “I mean not if you don’t feel comfortable with it. I understand.” “Can I ask you, something sweetheart?” Jaehyun cuts in nodding as his response he smiles. “When did you discover you were a submissive?” His head turns as his eyes shine with curiosity.“You're in high school and yet you seem pretty informed about what you like and what you are open to. I must admit it's refreshing but curious.” Swallowing thickly my eyes shift back to the water on the table. “Last summer I had sex with my boyfriend and it was nothing.” There was a pause as I drank another swallow of water. “I felt completely unfulfilled and had no idea why. Then my best friend showed me this book she was reading. It was about a BDSM couple and it was like from the first page I just knew.” Shrugging I drag my eyes up the boys looking at me softly. “Can I ask you how did you all know you were dominant?” “Jaehyun knew he was one first.” Johnny starts. “He started researching after he saw Fifty Shades of Grey, he was telling me about it and I got curious ” Johnny turned to Jaehyun smiling sweetly. “We had already messed around a few times before so with my permission he introduced it into the bedroom and the rest is what? History.” He laughed resting his hand on Jaehyun’s knee. Winking at Johnny he gently wrapped his hand with his, before they turned back to me. “We started a club at school to help others like us explore and understand the community.” Jaehyun states. They both look so well fitted for each other matching perfectly do I fit into this though? “Okay so back to these rules baby girl.” Johnny’s once soft smile falls back into his mischievous smirk. As he leans forward, eyes dropping to my bare bottom half, "how do you feel about wearing a vibrate during school hours?"

���Open to page 24 and let's start the class discussion, is love at first sight possible?” Hands rose as I shuffled the pages to Romeo and Juliet.

“I feel like bringing up the topic of love when discussing Romeo and Juliet is counter productive.” Hannah’s voice pipes up. Her english class merging with ours today due to the teacher having a family emergency last minute was definitely not the best surprise. “And why is that?” The teacher prodes. “Because they don't love each other it's common knowledge they are two kids who are infatuated with each other, and that infatuation leads to death. If we begin putting love into the discussion it puts a rose tint over it all. As well as can be counterproductive to the discussion of mental health issue clearly petulant in the play.” She adjusted in her seat looking around as he hushed praise fell onto her ears at her augment. 

“So,now you are saying romeo and juliet have mental problems because they are young and in love?” Johnny's voice questions sternly cutting through to Hannah.

“There you go with that word again.” She turns her body so she can face Johnny head on in the half circle set up. 

“And what about seeing someone once and making your whole life about them to the point that you die, when you think they are dead is love?” Her head quirks to the side as she folds her hands on her desk ready for a retort.

“I’m not saying they took it too far but ever hear of puppy love? Or first love? Studies say that the the first time endorphins are released inside of your body it can be as similar to a drug high. So in other words being in love for the first time can be similar to being high 24/7.” 

“So no Romeo and Juliet is a metaphor for drug abuse.” 

“I think Romeo and Juliet can be a metaphor for many things if you look at it long enough but that's most art. What's prevalent to our discussion right now is that puppy love or first love is scientifically proven. Now does that justify the ending of the play? No. Does that justify the death and carnage that happened due to the two falling in love? No. Does it negate that they were in love with each other with the endorphins that only teenagers can be? No.” Johnny’s gaze leveled with Hannah as her body looked to be growing reder by the minute under her uniform. But she refuses to back down from the gaze.

“Well much to think about for the paper that is due in three days' class.” The teacher clapped his hand lifting his book up. “Let start with Romeo’s line.”

“Meet me by the janitor's closet.” 

~Your Jaehyun

“Don’t you have class in a few minutes?” “I have a free period and couldn’t stop thinking about your lips.” Jaehyun smiled, his hand coming to rest on my check as he leaned in kissing me sweetly.“How was your english period did Johnny behave?” Resting his head on my forehead his breath fanning over my lips. “Yeah he was so busy arguing with Hannah he didn't even glance at me.” My voice sounded more hurt than I intended, Eyebrows frowning as I shifted in these realizations. “Are you upset about that? Did you want all of Johnny's attention on your pretty self?” He leaned in kissing softly once again. Pulling away his tongue swipe dover my bottom lip. “No” I lie, eyes still closed form the tenderness of his kiss. “tsk, ts.k” Jaehyun’s hand on my cheek began floating down to my neck, his hand resting croft belly as he applied little pressure. “You don’t want to go breaking rule on your first day now would you sweetheart?” Shaking no. “Maybe I was a little jealous.” “Good girl.” His lips press a quick peck on mine before ghosting down to my neck kissing as he goes. “Now, do you want to make Johnny jealous?”

“1 new attachment” 

“Now let me see those beautiful eyes baby” my eyes followed to look directly into the screen as I lowered my head onto Jaehyun’s dick, moaning when he touched the back of my throat. “Fuck baby keep doing that and I defently won’t last.” smiling I moaned again Jaehyun’s hand holding the camera shook slightly at the feeling “is that what you want? Want me to come down your throat so that you taste me for the rest of the school day baby?” Nodding quickly my hand speeds up his stroking as my mouth meets its pase Jaehyun moans deeply his hand coming to stroke my cheek affectionately “you wish is my command baby”

[commanderserwin]

Hi, I absolutely love your work, I've binged your masterlist over the last few days and they're fab!

I was wondering if I could request an imagine where the reader is a tattoo artist and Erwin or Levi (or both) come in to get a tattoo and during the session they talk forever and bond loads. And then afterwards they come in more often to ask about tattoo aftercare or to book another appointment. Whether they end up platonic or romantic is up to you. Thank you so much ❤❤

✧ notes. hello there !! u love my works ??? i will now cry forever and a half as my thanks— but really thank u!! it means a lot ily already !!! but hello,,, here we go with this au!! i changed it a lil so i hope that’s still okay!! hope u like this one !! enjoy ♡

✧ more. italicized paragraphs = flashbacks (when erwin was getting his tat done!)

— with your name on it? with erwin smith.

“don’t you have someplace else to go?” you asked, pushing yourself on the swivel stool as it squeaked, “work to do— or something else?”

erwin looked up from his phone, coffee on his other hand as he smiled, “i do, actually.”

“then, why are you here?”

well, what was he supposed to say, he thought. would it be better for him to say it outright that perhaps the reason why he has been in your shop ever since he got his tattoo done months ago is simply because he likes your company?

that because he spent eight hours with you, all alone in a room with nothing but soft music and the mechanical hum of the tattoo machine as well as the needles and something called attraction gave him enough confidence and courage to visit you always?

that because those eight hours were filled with his incessant questions of aftercare that he has probably already memorized from numerous online articles mingled with your gentle voice as you explained it behind the mask and the light hands that literally painted his skin?

that even despite those questions, conversation flowed smoothly like the rivers, each question topping each other, as it builds up to a continuous childhood stories up to university ones and the now?

intimate and not— stories shared confidently and comfortably between strangers that he found himself wanting to build a relationship that goes beyond being a customer and employee?

you?

erwin smiled, placing his phone down as he handed his cup of coffee to you— bottling it all up.

with a shrug, you accepted it, moving back to your front desk as you waited for you appointments to come. you tried to avoid his stares whenever he would stay, but it has become his habit that it was a little troubling at first since panic clouded your minds that perhaps the reason why he is here is because you messed up his tattoo?

the big tattoo that you have worked on for two days— the one that covered his left shoulder and back, down to his triceps and biceps as it finishes off just below his elbow. from the corner of your eyes, you suspected nothing and something at the same time as the dark ink became a contrast to his white button down, and it didn’t help that whenever he would even turn a little, the hint of the feathered wing would greet you.

“hello, what can i do for you?”

a second ago he leaned on the desk with confidence seeping at his clean suit as his eyes twinkled with courage as his smile never wavered.

then a second after, he opened his mouth, shaking his head as he pointed back to the door— backing away from you until he got a hold of the knob, hesitation plastered on his face.

“you can come back if you’re ready,” you smiled, watching the tall man exit quickly, his bag hitting the door twice as he darted to the night with nothing but scared look on his face.

then a minute after— the bell chimed again.

this time, he stood before the desk with his clasped hands on it, clearing his throat as he looked around the small tattoo shop. it was decent, neon lights just around to make it pop, minimalistic in a way, as necessary instruments were kept in sterilized storages.

“you’re back,” you commented, standing up to meet his eyes, “what can i do for you?”

“i’m planning to get a tattoo.” he announced more to himself as he unfolded the paper from his pocket. he straightened it out on the surface, as you inspected it. “will this be okay?”

the art was beautiful. a dark feathered wing, all darkly shaded that would immediately be a huge contrast to his pale skin and light eyes. you looked back at him— your mind already working as to where he would probably want this, and with a big tattoo like this, it would simply and most likely cover his whole back or shoulder.

that scared erwin smith who once came in to get his first tattoo, his voiced laced with hesitation and nervousness— now sits smug and comfortably in the place where he showed deep reluctance in getting his body art.

“stop daydreaming, your customers might come,” erwin commented, his eyes busy on his phone as a teasing smile graces on his face.

“i wasn’t,” you muttered, flipping through the stencils as you sighed— snapping yourself out, or him out of your thoughts.

but he stayed, very much there, firmly planted and deep into your mind.

“will this be your first tattoo?”

when he stayed silent for a few seconds, you took notice how his chest rise up and down quicker than expected and it was all the answer you needed.

“with a tattoo this big— i have no problems of doing this,” you explained, pushing the paper to him as he folded it once more, still leaving it on the surface, “but you have to be sure, because once we start on it, there is n—.”

“no going back,” he completed, absentmindedly touching his shoulder blades.

he thought about this a million times always never having the time to do it or truthfully having enough courage— but as times he has walked by your small shop increased, it inticed him that probably it was time. so, he took a few days off of his work— making sure that he won’t back down.

erwin stayed there for a couple of minutes, sometimes coming over to your spot as he showed you random pictures of the most random things.

and he’s been doing it for the past months.

at the beginning it was him coming over and unbuttoning his work shirt for you to check up on his wing tattoo— always, always, even with every check there has been no problem.

at the middle, he suddenly went by to your shop numerous times while you cleaned each area, with a coffee cup as a ‘thank you.’

and now, it was just erwin and his company— him staying even for a few minutes or hours as he talked to you, asked about your day— mixing tattoo aftercare questions, possibly to give him and you enough reason and answer for his frequent visits.

but eventually all good things come to an end.

“i have to go,” erwin brushed his trousers, rolling the sleeves of his white button-down shirt, making you look up with a slight pout and furrowed brows.

“already?” you caught yourself saying, standing up as you followed himself towards the door.

“weren’t you just making me leave a couple of minutes ago?” he smiled, stopping by the door as he blocked it.

something inside you thumped— heat rushing into your skin as you shifted your weight on your other foot, placing a hand on your hip as you tilted your chin towards his tall stature.

it took approximately eight hours to do erwin’s tattoo, and now his left upper back adorned a dark feathered wing that expands down to his arm. it took him a few minutes to process that it was finished, that now he has finally gotten his first tattoo, and that it hurt so much which means that it was indeed— real.

“what do you think?” you sighed, placing the tattoo machine back on the metal table, slouching on the stool as erwin glanced up and down his back with the mirror, the blank ink and the redness fighting.

“holy hell.”

erwin sat back on the stool, it hurt to use his shoulder but it was well worth it— the feathered wing was so intricate and delicately inked down, even seeing the smallest detail that made it everything he really wanted.

“right!” you breathed, taking your gloves off as you pushed your stool towards him, plastic wrapping his shoulder as you sternly looked at him, “keep this wrap on for a few hours, wash your hands before touching your tattoo—please. and remember to only wash this with unscented soap, and apply petroleum ointment on it after. understood?”

“understood,” erwin answered, wincing slightly as you wrapped his shoulder— and once you were done, he was back with admiring it more as you cleaned the area.

“and you come back if you have any questions, all right?”

“of course,” erwin breathed, finding his shirt as he unfolded it from the table.

“here, let me,” you stood before him, hands ready to stretch out his shirt as he bent his neck down.

maybe it was the universe that stopped as your eyes met with his blue ones, maybe it was the hitched breaths from the close proximity— or maybe it was just the lighting that showed apparent pinking of cheeks, the blush coming up from his neck.

maybe time really did slow down when the cliched sparks would happen.

erwin looked back, a questioning look on his face as he matched the scowl that slightly formed on your face— before gently flicking your forehead which only made you fight down a smile that was trying to escape.

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as your mind ran for something, anything, to keep him here— or not, as it left you a bit conflicted on what you possibly want.

an idea is what you needed, a reason is what you needed, and when you merged those two together— you looked up with a single tap on his shoulder, “don’t you need to get that cleaned or... checked on? how long has it been?”

“five months,” erwin answered, leaning his back on the door— closing everybody off who would even try to intervene. “i do think it’s healed already.”

“...right,” you breathed, pulling away a step further with a tight-lipped smile on your face as your glorious idea and reason gloriously failed. come back again— tonight or tomorrow, you thought. “then, bye.”

erwin watched you walk away from him, slouched shoulders and all as you flopped down on your favorite swivel chair, a pencil already in hand as your busy scribbles echoed together with the beat of his heart and the perfectly fitted romantic song that played.

it took him a minute.

then a minute after, erwin called your name, making you rest your chin on your balled fist as you waited for his words.

“say,” he began, his palm covering his heart— either him feeling it rush or just because this is where he’s gathering his courage from, “i’m planning to get another tattoo.”

“oh?”

“above my heart?” erwin announced, smiled— watching you nod seriously as you took on his another project, “and i want a heart on top of it.”

“i guess we could do that,” you absentmindedly said, striding towards him as you tapped his heart with the end of your pencil. “just a heart?”

time stopped again as erwin watched your eyes twinkle against the light. the edges of your lips turned into a small smile, and erwin thought that he could burst right there and then.

“with your name on it?”

[frangipansi]

Brothers seeing MC naked for the first time.

Slight nsfw? Maybe...? Not really? Probably just a tad spicy, more so? Meh! We’ll throw it on... just in case.

Also, I want to slip in a mini apology. In these snippets I’ve rather liked the idea of trying to keep things gender neutral, but no matter how hard I tried with Satan hemightbemyfave, MC just kept coming across female. But I mean... anyone can wear a dress!! Yes? Yes! And trust, the silk dress I had in my mind when I write (I own the dress) I’m positive anyone of any gender, or no gender, would delight in wearing it.

~

Lucifer.

You knew you were pushing your luck here, but you were feeling exceptionally confident and ready to take on the possibility that Lucifer was into you. You head to his room, wearing just your RAD coat, snug against you and knock.

Hearing him call out, you slip inside and close the door; giving him a smile when he looks up at hearing the lock click over. “MC?” He’s surprised but not disappointed by your unscheduled visit.

Taking a breath, you unbuckle the belt and standing as seductively as you can; slowly slip the coat off your shoulders and let it pool to the floor. You’re breathing is elevated; naturally of course, with Lucifer there was always the possibility of rejection.

His eyes trail down your body and back up as he stands from his desk; slowly walking his way over to you until mere inches apart, the close proximity forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his gaze as an ungloved hand gently caresses your side.

“How very… sensual.” His expression dark with lust; fingers teasing across your chest before he instructs you to slink your way to his bed while loosening his shirt and tie, eyes wandering over you again as he follows you.

Mammon.

Mammon is pacing your room; very animated hand gestures as he relays to you his latest money making scheme. You watch with a smile on your face. “Mammon.” You call to which he either waves you off or shushes you.

“Mammon!” A more adamant called of his name grabs his attention. “What?! Will ya list-” His words cut short as he witnesses you wiggle out of your pants and peel your shirt off; throwing it aside as you proudly stood before him naked.

Mouth gaping like a fish as his wide eyes gawp up and down your body; stunned at the exquisite and unexpected sight before him. He shakes his head as you take a step towards him, as if your movement has broken the spell on him.

A wicked smile breaks across his face, fangs on show as he quickly closes the distance between the two of you; a squeal of laughter slipping from you as his arms wrap around you and lift you from the ground to tackle you to the bed.

“If ya think you can still turn me inta a stuttering mess, ya got another thing comin’.” A growl passing his lips as he snatches your lips in a wild kiss.

Leviathan.

Between the warm day and his growing comfort of your presence; it wasn’t usual for your time spent gaming together to be wearing bare minimal. Levi even relaxed enough to be sitting in only a pair of shorts as you tag-teamed a mission.

He had no idea that beneath your long line t-shirt was absolutely nothing at all; and as you had to wait for your character to respawn, you took that time to make you move. Standing from the couch you call his name and peel your top off.

You get a huff from him and when you look to him you’re amused to see his eyes hadn’t left the screen. Smiling, you throw your top at him and wait; watching him flinch at something being thrown at him. “Heyy normie… what’s the big…”

Holding up the top he looks up at you and freezes; face beet red and mouth quivering as he looks you up and down. The controller fell from his hand as he reached out and brushed his fingers across your hip.

Instantly he blushes more and removes his hand. You sit back down beside him, a leg over his lap and arms around his neck as you whisper, “The idea is you can touch me,” watching the shy smile pull at his lip as he runs his hand over your leg.

Satan.

Returning a book was the perfect opportunity; holding it securely in hand you made the short distance from your room to his and pushed the door open enough to call out to him before slipping inside entirely.

You set the book down carefully atop a pile of other books as your eyes stay on Satan; lounging on his bed with a book to his face. You wait for him to lower it, locking eyes before reaching round and pulling the bow tie at the back of your neck and let the silk dress fall from your body; watching Satan’s surprised expression follow the dress downward.

Flush cheeks, he immediately sets his book down and tip-toes around & over any book piles; eyes roaming your body before meeting your gaze. You notice it’s almost predatory-like; slowly stalking his prey and never wavers his stare until you’re face-to-face. Noses almost touching.

His breathing remains steady as yours begins to shake; desperate to know his next move; but he’ll take his time. His eyes will look up to your locks as his hands gently glide through them as they work their way down your body; his eyes following his hands and smiling with every change of your breathing.

Hands will suddenly wrap around your waist as he pushes you back into the door and seals his mouth over yours; growling at the touch of your hands through his hair. He finds your skin so irresistibly soft and perfectly scented fueling an insatiable thirst within him as he claims you against his door.

Asmodeus.

For all the countless flirting between yourself and The Avatar of Lust; you had only ever held hands, kissed cheeks and playfully caressed arms, legs or chest. But today, you would be taking the lead in the next step. A simple text: T_T I’m crying this outfit too cute come see!! He’s a sucker for fashion after all.

“MC!” You hear him sing as he swings open the door; momentarily frozen as his eyes fall over you lying very seductively on your bed and completely naked… okay, you accessorized with understated jewellery and simple makeup. You were gonna look like perfection for this demon.

With a squeal of delight, he’ll slam the door and lock it before Mammon can ruin anything; commenting on how utterly delicious you look laying there in wait for him; how devilishly wicked you are and of course swoon over your beauty.

But he won’t just simply dive onto you; oh no, no, no… you deserve a feast for the eye just as you gave him; delighting you in a perfectly seductive striptease. He is a temptress, a sexual divinity and he’ll have you at the thralls of rapture by the time he crawls his way on top of you.

He’ll take great delight in taking his time tasting you; feathering kisses and rolling tongue across every inch of skin while guiding your hands into his hair. His lightest of touch easily sending you into waves of constant euphoria before your bodies even merge to one, and he’ll use every trick he knows to elicit every debauched sound from your lips.

Beelzebub.

A personal gym inside the House of Lamentation that no one steps foot inside, except one. It was a perfect time to get closer to the ever hungry demon. You made your presence known by calling out to him; both of you smiling at one another as he lifts his head before going back to his bench presses.

Eyes wandered over Beelzebub’s body; his legs perfectly defined by a pair of compression pants and a loose fitting singlet capturing his sweat; you couldn’t help but bite your lip in appreciation before undressing.

He paused mid-lift, lifting his head back up as he felt you sit yourself down on his abdomen cross-legged and stared at you in astonishment. “MC… you’re naked?” His eyes are constantly darting across your eyes, dipping to your chest and back up again.

“Completely.” You will confirm with a wink; watching him carefully set the bar back in place before sitting up to admire your bare body while his hands skim over your thighs. He’ll have quite the smile on his face; wondering how he got so lucky with such a delightful post-work snack and just where he should first start.

Coaxing your legs to uncross, he’ll pull you in closer and encourage you to wrap your legs around his waist so he can get a better look at you; a better feel of you. Delicious skin bare before him; his smile darkening as he brings his head down to gently sink his teeth into your neck. A hungry kiss to say the least.

Belphegor.

The Avatar of Sloth was never a hard one to find; quietly you sneak down the corridors unnoticed, bounding silently up the stairs to the attic to find him snoozing in the plush bohemian style bed. You couldn’t help but smile at his form almost hidden amongst the incessant amount of pillows and throw blankets.

You call to him softly, fiddling with the buttons of your oversized sleep shirt and watch him stir; taking in a deep breath while he stretched before opening up one lazy eye. He smiles, giving you a hello before shutting his eye again; lifting his arms up above his head in another stretch and your eyes linger down to his exposed stomach as his top lifted slightly.

This time you unbutton your shirt as you call to him again; his eyes opening and closing before he sat up quickly and rubbed his sleepy eyes then took in the sight of you completely; your bed shirt now discarded to the floor.

“Well…” He would purr with a smirk; his fingers wriggling in a gesture for you to join him on the bed. Which, of course, you’ll happily do; slinking up beside him and drape an arm behind him; your fingers lightly scruffy his hair.

His eyes roam over your body before easing your back down onto the pillows and slither on top of you. Oh how tempting it would be for him to simply nestle down on your luscious body; arms wrapped around you and his head on your chest so the pleasant sound of your heartbeat could lull him back to sleep. Getting to know your body intimately, was just far more tempting.

[prettycutebunny]

Wide awake - hisoka x reader collab part 1

Me and my amazing friend @absolute-flaming-trash decided to collab , hope you enjoy it 💙

TW: unhealthy relationship , hisoka being an asshole , hinted non con nothing graphic I can't write lemon to save my life, and manga spoilers !

I'm wide awake

I'm wide awake

When did it start ? How did the time merge so fast , you couldn't decipher it anymore ?

You've known him for so little time , yet it feels like forever. The moment your eyes met, even in your own memory you feel the time stop

His golden eyes looking at you curiously , eyeing you up and down as you approached him blushing.

You've seen him before. Hisoka Morow , the famous champion of Heaven Arena. A place you never thought you'd step a foot in until your friends dragged you there.

You've seen him fight his way to the top. You used to go because your friend made you , but how did it end up with you being his fan ?

His tickets were the hardest to come by , yet you couldn't stop yourself from spending paychecks on them. The disappointment of him not showing made you promise yourself to never go , yet again you go. He was simply too good to miss.

I'm wide awake

Yeah, I was in the dark

I was falling hard

With an open heart

I'm wide awake

How did I read the stars so wrong

His eyes were piercing you as he tapped his feet impatiently. You had to do it now. There's no knowing when you'll ever see him again.

"I'm a huge fan of you ! I've seen every one of your fights, and I don't know if you have someone ! But ..."

The words flew from your mouth so fast , you had to say them without thinking. If you think , you'll stop.

You swallowed nervously.

"Would you go out with me ?"

A chuckle took you by surprise. You felt your cheeks heat up, as your head lowered in shame.

He's laughing at you. Of course he is, what did you expect ? For him to hug you close and admit his love for you ? That he noticed you watching him in every match and fell for you ?

As your tears formed in your eyes , the laughing stopped and noises of heels clicking took it place.

Your chin was raised as you met his eyes again. His melted gold eyes shone with amusement accompanied with his signature smile.

"Amuse me , and I might♦️"

I'm wide awake

And now it's clear to me

That everything you see

Ain't always what it seems

I'm wide awake

Yeah, I was dreaming for so long

You stood in front of the mirror looking at yourself bitterly; how did he enchant you like that ? You were so far gone you ignored every warning sign even when it hit you in the face. Literally.

Your first "date" if you could call it that was unusual to say the least

You tried so hard to look as pretty as you can. You even bought new clothes and spent more time on a makeup tutorial than you care to admit.

He had texted you about his upcoming fight, naturally you already bought tickets to it before it's sold out. He wanted you watching from his room.

The tickets were pretty expensive but it also meant you could sell them and get a decent profit thanks to the limited number of them.

You walked nervously into Heaven's Arena, displaying your ID at the receptions who allowed you in. Hisoka already gave you a copy of his keys, which surprised you with how sudden it was. Then you laughed , what would you do ? Hurt him ? The idea alone was laughable

Reaching his room , you felt a sharp intense pain as your neck twisted painfully with a loud smack noise deafening your ears.

"You whore , you thieving whore ! He's mine. How dare you !"

Wish I knew then

What I know now

Wouldn't dive in

Wouldn't bow down

Gravity hurts

You made it so sweet

Till I woke up on

On the concrete

Closing the door while breathing heavily , you felt yourself shake with the amount of energy it took you to slam the door in her face and lock it.

Your cheek stung as you looked around at his place. It was quite fancy, which was expected from Heaven's Arena undefeated champion's rooms.

Your shaky hands turned on the tv as you headed to the kitchen looking for ice. Opening the freezer , you found tubs of ice cream and ice. You grabbed the ice while eyeing the neapolitan ice cream.

You were tempted, but you felt rude enough helping yourself to his ice. You didn't want your cheek to swell on your important date.

Hearing the excited announcement ,with the ice pack in hand you rushed to the TV. He was there in all his full glory with some powerful guy you never cared about.

The fight was similar to Hisoka's usual ones. He loved to spend time teasing and messing with his opponents. The death came in too quick after

he managed to land a hit on Hisoka's face, resulting in him being shredded with a stream of cards that came out of nowhere.

Closing the door , checking your face again , retouching your makeup , and changing your posture to your best abilities. You're going to look your best no matter what.

The loud noise of the door opening shocked you , being pinned out of nowhere on the sofa terrified you , seeing Hisoka's excited face aroused you as his hands started touching you all over while the other started ripping the clothes off of you.

Falling from cloud nine

Crashing from the high

I'm letting go tonight

I'm falling from cloud nine

Every single part of you ached. You've never been taken like that , so passionately and with great urgency. His deep alluring voice whispering in your ear; dragging you from the pain and pleasure. You were overwhelmed not only by his body , but also his words and whispers.

Feeling him shifting from atop of you as he walked naked to the phone. He looked at you with a satisfied smile as you tried to move after such a rough session.

Standing up wobbling , his voice faltered as you walked to the bathroom. looking at him , you noticed him glaring at your cheek, your hand went immediately to touch it earning a wince.

He slowly and predatorily approached and you could do nothing but stare.

"Who did this ♠️?"

"A woman slapped me when she saw me unlocking the door , she said I stolen you from her"

Your eyes lowered in embarrassment. That's not something to mention after you spent the night with someone.

Chuckles caught you off guard

"Ahh ! My little fruits tend to be a little too excited about me ♥️ you'll forgive them, won't you ♣️ ?"

I'm wide awake

Not losing any sleep

Picked up every piece

And landed on my feet

I'm wide awake

Need nothing to complete myself, no

It wasn't the last time it happened though. He was rarely around , and when he was he didn't want to do anything but have sex.

Whenever you did anything else , "little fruits" as he called them would attack you. Verbal and sometimes physical abuse towards you ruined the mood for you.

He didn't seem to care much , in fact he always looked amused. Today wasn't any different. He sent you a ticket to his new match with a keycard to his new suite in h]Heaven Arena's. You stopped buying tickets since he always sent you one.

It didn't take a genius to know , he either wanted you to patch him up or looking for a quick fuck. His matches always leave him hurt and aroused.

Why were you okay with this again ? Why can't you say no ? You knew it wasn't healthy but you can't help it. You're addicted to him now.

I'm wide awake

Yeah, I am born again

Out of the lion's den

I don't have to pretend

And it's too late

The story's over now, the end

Going to the match a lot earlier as usual, Heaven Arena's had a first come first serve rule on the seats. It became a habit for you to come hours earlier to book a decent seat.

His rival was someone he already defeated in the past so it should be okay. Not like he would lose or anything.

The noises of people slowly pouring distracted you from the nagging pain in your chest. Was this what you wanted ? A once every few weeks fuck or dinner if you're lucky ?

The match started as usual , Hisoka observing and letting his opponent take shots at him while he taunted them. The sudden severing of Hisoka's arm made you scream so loud , yet it was drowned by the screams of the entire stadium.

Hisoka was smirking and even offered him the other arm. What is he thinking ?

You felt yourself trumble as tears swelled in your eyes , how can he fight without arms? Will he bleed to death ? Why is he happy about it ?!

I wish I knew then

What I know now

Wouldn't dive in

Wouldn't bow down

Gravity hurts

You made it so sweet

Till I woke up on

On the concrete

You sat next to him in shock as you watched the

beautiful pink haired lady do her magic. She didn't seem to care you're watching. Her movements were fast and graceful before she finished and demanded her payment.

"Would you spend the night with me ♥️?"

You felt like you couldn't breath. Did you just hear that ? Her eyes drifted to you as she ignored him and left.

"Pity ♠️"

He looked at you with disappointment in his eyes before he smiled again. You stood back slowly heading to the door.

Where were you headed at this hour ? You can't stay with him ! He asked another woman right in front of you !

A firm hand gripped you as you felt your blood freeze.

"Where do you think you're going ♠️?"

Trying to break free from his grip , the painful lump in your throat making it impossible to breathe normally let alone talk. His hand only gripped you tighter as you started fighting to let go.

His face frowned at you trying your hardest to shake him off. Who did you think you were ? You knew you couldn't win against him , you saw all his fights ! The rational part in your brain didn't work.

All those women ? They weren't some crazy fans ? He's been cheating on you ? Does he even see you as more than a sex doll ?

A scream tore through your silent tears. He pinned you roughly over the table next to him. His face changed from the usual frown to something more sinister.

"Go on , fight me ♦️"

Thunder rumbling

Castles crumbling

I am trying to hold on

God knows that I tried

Seeing the bright side

But I'm not blind anymore

I'm wide awake

I'm wide awake

Every single muscle in your body hurt. Even the roots of your hair felt like hell. Your throat was dry and so were your eyes.

How did this happen ? Why did your innocent crush turn to this ? Weren't you enough for him ? Did your pain excite him that much ?

He left after the pink haired girl as soon as he was finished with you. Is that really the last time you'd see him ?

It's okay you'll gather your pieces and move on. At least that's what you tell yourself every time you go and bandage him. Every time he has his way with you.

When you heard about his fight with chrollo you refused to go; still traumatized from the last night at his Heaven Arena's place , you simply couldn't. You still watched him on the TV and went the next day after he cooled off. It'll be the same thing over and over.

Why can't you just say no ? Will you only escape him through death ?

Death , it made you laugh. Hisoka dying ? The idea of it seems so far fetched. He was so strong. Too strong.

Wait , did his hand just explode ? His legs too ? Hisoka ?

I'm wide awake

I'm wide awake

I'm wide awake

I'm wide awake

I'm wide awake

[philliamwrites]

i could make it holy, make it fine (pt.1)

Fandom: Persona 5

Pairing: Akira/Akechi

Tags: #domestic fluff, #kissing, #wedding, #persona 5 royal spoilers

Words: 1.7k

Summary: Goro can't believe his first marrital dispute will be about the plastic cat dolls in front of their café whereas Akira is a simple man with simple needs like laying out black napkins and wearing a dress. 

Note: Part 2 (work in progress) | Inspired by ‘Make it Holy’ by The Staves.

i could make it holy, make it fine

    “Quick, don’t think. Black or red?”

    “The napkins stay blue. Now shut up and don’t move.”

    Black curls fall to the ground with each snip snip of Goro’s scissors. He tips Akira’s head back with a knuckle to check that his hair is the same length. Not that anyone could tell if it wasn’t once his hair dries into its usual curly mess. Goro assumes Akira gave him this task just to have an excuse to stare at his face from close-up—as if he doesn’t do it at any given chance anyway regardless of day or time.

    That is the luxury of living in a place they feel comfortable enough to lower their defences. Goro is still trying to learn calling such a place home.

    Warm hands roam over his legs, demanding his attention. “What are you thinking about?” Akira asks and presses his chin into his belly, looking up. After seven years, his features have grown sharper and more elegant like the dagger he used to wield. Sometimes Goro looks at him and the sight of beautiful, beautiful Akira Kurusu steals his breath.

    “That you look like a twelve-year-old after shaving.” He pushes Akira’s wet hair out of his face and flicks his forehead, then steps out of his grasp. He crosses their bathroom to take the broom leaning against the wall in the corner, only to unceremoniously drop it in Akira’s lap. “Now clean your mess. I’m done.”

    He leaves the room before hearing a response, brushing off stray black hair from his shirt and pants. Now he has to vacuum again. Why Akira asked him to cut his hair instead of booking an appointment with a professional is beyond him, but it does remind Goro, as he tugs at the end of his ponytail tickling the nape of his neck, that he might need a cut as well. The shop stays closed anyway during their preparations, so now seems the best time to get things done they usually can’t while tending to the café. Repairing the creaking floorboard behind the counter, washing the dark, vintage curtains hanging in their back office. Even though Akira is against it, they need to sort out which maneki-neko lining the front of their entrance they want to keep and which to throw away. He can’t believe his first marital dispute will be about dusty plastic cats.

    The blow drier starts in the bathroom. Akira’s head peeks around the corner, the hot air whipping his hair left and right. “Goro, can you check the mail? Ann’s postcard might have arrived.”

    Goro shoos him away like a fly. On his way to the stairs leading down to the café—a feature Akira insisted on during their apartment hunting to pay homage to his old home—he passes their kitchen where he puts a kettle on the stove for another round of coffee. So far, he’s only had benefits to be engaged to one of Tokyo’s most popular barista.

    Leblanc is abandoned and quiet. He won’t ever admit it oud loud, but he’s glad Akira didn’t change the name after inheriting the business from Sojiro. Anything different would have been blasphemous. But while it is the same name, Leblanc’s replica lives with touches that scream Akira’s name. Bookshelves line one wall opposite the entrance, filled with every book he’s read during Highschool. Customers come and pick one and in return leave a book they have at hand, constantly switching up the collection. Then there’s people complimenting the amazing replicas of famous contemporary artist Yusuke Kitagawa on the walls, asking Akira where he bought them. But if Akira is known for his delicious coffee, he’s famous for his secrets.

    Opening their post box, bills and two cards fall out. The first shows The Louvre lit at night. Ann’s curly handwriting is unmistakable, leaving a short message that she’ll arrive a day before the ceremony. The other card has a simple flower design and one word on its back.

    Congratulations. — M.

    Goro stares at it for a solid minute. It’s been long since he’s seen this handwriting, but he does remember it from torn-out diary pages inside a place that had blindingly white walls and tasted of despair and bitter endings. He takes everything upstairs where he finds Akira with dried, adorably messy hair.

    “I didn’t know you still hang out with Dr. Maruki,” he says, voice neutral as he drops the cards and bills on the table where Akira has already spread out coffee and biscuits from Haru’s shop. He considers the card, absentmindedly stirring his cup. “I don’t. Sumire might have told him.”

    “Not that I really care.” Goro drinks from his cup, eyeing Akira from the side. He’s draped over his chair like a Pre-Raphaelite painting. “He’s not invited.”

    “I doubt he’ll come. Wouldn’t be too much fun if you stabbed him with the cake knife.”

    Goro snorts, but the image does bring a faint grin out of him. It is a time though he doesn’t think too fondly of; a time when he’d felt too much at once and too little words managed to express that. He remembers when Loki and Robin merged into Hereward and the surprise that Robin never really left his side, always with him; the light, the good, the innocent and childlike fantasy to become a hero one day. The night he spent under Akira’s covers; limbs entangled, secrets and fears shared in quiet whispers, thumbs wet from drying tears both pretended were never shed.

    After they defeated Maruki and destroyed the Happy World, Goro woke up in his bed, dizzy and disoriented, still sore from the fight. While staring at his white ceiling, he counted his heartbeat. Every thud in his chest was like a bird trying to take flight out of an ebony cage no one built a door into. He’d only have to tear his chest open and it would be free. It would return to where it longed to be, a little café tucked away in Yongen-Jaya.

    Instead, Goro got out of bed, donned his winter uniform and went to meet Sae Nijima to discuss the terms of proving Shido’s guilt and his arrest. Again. He spent half a year in juvenile hall until Akira paid his bail with the remaining savings from their Mementos ventures.

    “You’re crazy,” Goro had said when he met Akira outside, everything he used and owned during those six months shoved into a single plastic back.

    “I missed you,” Akira had replied and now, seven years later, they’re doing what Goro never allowed himself to dream of; never showed interest in until meeting Akira Kurusu.

    “Will our suits be ready?” he asks now, downing the rest of this coffee. He usually hates when it gets cold, but Akira’s blend is still enjoyable.

    “I’ll check my e-mails later. They should have replied by now.” Akira watches him, tapping a slender finger against the kitchen desk. “I still think one of us should wear a dress.”

    “You also think we need a champagne pyramid which we can’t afford.”

    “Okay, perhaps not that,” says Akira. “But I would make a radiant bride.”

    Goro doesn’t doubt that. If he takes an afternoon off and searches long enough, he’ll surely find the drag cop outfit somewhere in the attic—a real attic, this one—from all those years back. Maybe he can ask Akira to wear lipstick again when it’s time to seal the deal during the ceremony. He can’t think of anyone who would object to that.

    “That’s your cue to say ‘Truly’.” Akira carries both empty mugs to the sink, a slight pout adorning his face. Goro rolls his eyes. He waits until he passes him on his way out to hook a finger through a belt buckle and pulls Akira with a sharp tug on his lap. He blinks in fake innocence. “Oh?”

    “I prefer you looking good in a dress stays between us,” Goro says, shimmying his hands under Akira’s shirt—wrong, Goro’s shirt—where they rest on warm, soft skin.

    Akira thinks about it. “What do I get in return?”

    “No divorce papers.”

    Generous as always.”

    “It’s a deal then.”

    On cue, Akira’s head bends and finds Goro’s mouth. Kissing Akira is still the same as seven years ago: hot, addicting. Like breathing air for the first time after staying underwater for hours. His hands roam over spots he knows where bruised long, long ago and Akira reacts like they never disappeared. Like they never left the Metaverse. Still sixteen and eighteen and too busy bruising their knuckles and knees fighting for their own justice instead of settling down and taking their time unravelling each other. It still manages to untie a tight knot within his chest. He could spend all day kissing Akira. He should spend all day kissing Akira.

    One, two, three tugs on his ponytail and Goro reluctantly relents to free Akira’s bottom lip from between his teeth.

    “We should give you a cut as well,” Akira says, curling the end around a finger. Goro shows his surprise by raising one eyebrow.

    “You’d be okay with that?” he asks. He’s started to believe Akira’s fixation on his hair—drying it after a shower, braiding it when he’s bored, burrowing his hands in them when he cums—is a religious thing, though the prospect of it being short, feeling the cool breeze on the back of his neck during summer and not bothering to brush it every hour to untangle any knots, is appealing.

    Akira wears a dreamy sort of look—though, no. That’s just him being horny, probably imagining Goro with shorter hair and all new discoveries it might bring as he gently scrapes his scalp. It’s as good as any answer. He pushes Akira off his lap and rises as well, turning left and right to stretch and make his joints pop.

    “Fine, but if you mess it up, I’m going to shave you bald.”

    They share a single look, thinking of the only person they know with a bald head and Goro regrets his words already, hates the face of the man he never wants to remember flashing before his eyes.

    Akira takes his hand and squeezes. “I’m going to make you the most handsome man alive, promise.”

    He allows Akira to lead him to the bathroom, the objection that his task will be hard so long as he breathes on his lips.

    Five more days. Five more days and the most handsome man alive will be his.

[waywardnerd67]

Winter Wonderland

Summary: Jensen takes (Y/N) on a writing retreat in order for her to finish her novel. Characters: Jensen Ackles, Reader Pairing: Jensen x Reader Warnings: Fluff/Implied Smut Word Count: 1954 Square Filled: Free Space Bingo Card: @spnchristmasbingo​ A/N: Set after SPN and before The Boys in a fantasy world without COVID because well… I say so.

Check out: SPN Christmas Bingo Masterlist

Blink. Blink. Blink.

(Y/N) growled before laying her head down on her desk gently banging it repeatedly against it. A pair of strong hands slid over her aching shoulders. A sigh of relief slipping her lips as they began working the kinks out of them.

“Honey, you need to relax or you’re going to blow a gasket.”

His tender, deep tone blanketed her body in warmth and comfort, “I know, I know. My deadline is quickly approaching and I’m kind of freaking out.”

She turned her head to one side when she felt his hands move from her shoulders. She stared into the olive eyes of Jensen Ackles. Her best friend, her confidant, her boyfriend, her everything. The main source of her inspiration and focus of her current book series. In a whirlwind affair, they met in an Entertainment Weekly interview when her book was released five years ago. Inspired by his show Supernatural and specifically his character Dean, he asked her to dinner that evening and the rest was history.

His hand cupped her face, “I think we need a getaway. I’m on hiatus until The Boys starts shooting and a change of scenery could jump start your creative flow again.”

“I could be convinced to go off with you to a beach somewhere.” She chuckled sitting up once again.

“Let me plan it out. Now, what don’t you call it a day on cursing at your laptop and come watch a movie with me.” He held his hand out to her which she happily took leaving any thoughts of her unfinished manuscript behind in her office.

A week later, (Y/N) stepped off a plane in Toronto in December, “Definitely not the beach.” she muttered as they grabbed their bags.

Jensen chuckled, “Just trust me, the inspiration will be flowing from you in no time and you’ll finish your book like that,” He snapped his fingers.

A driver waited for them, taking their bags as they climbed into the back of the black town car. Fresh snow had recently fallen blanketing the city. Even though she hated winter, hated snow, hated the cold even (Y/N) could not deny the beauty passing by her as they merged onto the highway. An hour later, they turned down a private drive leading to a beautiful cabin surrounded by snow covered forestry.

“Wow…” was all she managed to say as the car parked outside the front door.

“I told you. Head inside and I will help bring in our stuff.” Jensen pressed his lips against her temple before opening the door and helping her out of the car.

The inside of the cabin was nearly as beautiful as the outside. With an open floor plan, the front entrance led right into the living room. A large fireplace, the central focal point surrounded by couches and loveseats. Two doors led to the back deck and a large open backyard fading into the forest. To the right was a long, wooden dining room table then a break bar behind it. She peered into the kitchen with all modern appliances and an old wood burn stove. The rich mahogany wood cabinets matching the rest of the decor.

To her left, were stairs leading to a second floor. She noticed a door beneath the stairs ajar and beckoning her. Pushing the wooden door open, she stepped into a small den/library. Every wall had floor to ceiling bookshelves except one that was all windows giving her an exceptional view of the forest. In the center of the room, facing the windows, was a beautiful mahogany desk with a plush chair pushed under it. Walking over, she ran her fingers over the smooth desktop with only a few items on it.

“When I saw this room, I knew it would be perfect for you.”

Jensen’s voice startled for a moment before a wide smile spread across her face, “I should have never doubted you. This place is beautiful.”

He walked up behind her wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Wait until you see the Master Bathroom and the large clawfoot tub.”

His eyes shined with mischief as they explored the rest of the cabin. Eating an early dinner and christening the king size bed, (Y/N) fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, she awoke alone in bed with only a note on her nightstand.

Went out to grab breakfast for us. Be back soon. Love, J

(Y/N) stretched her body out before getting up and walking into the master bath. If she had ever dreamed of the perfect bathroom this would be it. A spacious standing shower with jets on all sides. His and hers sinks already with their things spread out along the counter top. Finally, the clawfoot tub he spoke of the previous day. It was beautifully crafted and calling her name. Running the water as hot as she could stand it, she poured some of the apple scented bubble bath sitting beside it. Emerging her body completely within it, her muscles singing praises of relief and comfort.

Once she completed her soak in the tub, (Y/N) showered then put on her favorite comfy clothes of leggings and one of Jensen’s Zeppelin shirts. Running her fingers through her hair, she left it to air dry and made her way downstairs. On the breakfast bar sat a cup of steaming coffee and an array of assorted fruits and pastries. Grabbing the cup and plate, she walked over to one of the couches closest to the fireplace.

Halfway through her breakfast, she spotted Jensen outside. His head covered by a thick beanie covered in snow. He had on a long sleeve shirt with an undershirt peeking out from the collar, sweatpants leaving very little to the imagination of what was beneath them and boots laced up over his pants. A shovel in his hand, he began to scoop away the fluffy snow dumping it over the deck.

It was such a normal, simple chore that stirred many feelings within (Y/N) all at once. Watching his muscles bulge and relax with each move he made. Snowflakes kissing his lashes and hair peeking out from under his hat. The way his tongue darted out the corner of his lips as he tossed another mound of snow over the edge. The way his sweats stretched over his perfect, round, bubble butt and hung on his hips.

(Y/N) bit her lip, setting her forgotten breakfast on the table beside her. An all new hunger sweeping over her body making her press her thighs together as Jensen walked out of sight around the side of the house. She could hear him kicking his boots on the floor of the garage before the door creaked open. He was brushing off the remaining snow from his shoulders. His hair a spiky mess from snow and sweat. The scent of pine and his natural musk piercing her nose as he sat next to her.

“Good morning beautiful, enjoy your breakfast?” He slung his arm on the back of the couch, his cold fingertips brushing against her scorching skin.

“Mmhmm.” She hummed before straddling his hips, leaning down pressing her heated lips against his cold ones, “I also enjoyed the morning entertainment.”

She slowly moved her hips against him, “I can tell.” He groaned before flipping her over pinning her to the couch.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing and enjoying one another’s company. (Y/N) was lying in bed watching Jensen sleep reflecting on the last couple of days. Her mind drifting to the future and what that looked like for them. She ran her fingers through his hair gently rewarded with a deep sigh from him. Watching him sleep, thoughts of the future had her squirming uneasily. Everything was perfect, too perfect and perfection was usually followed by devastation.

Inspiration struck her like lightning jolting her out of bed. Jensen stirred briefly before turning over falling further into his slumber. Quickly putting on the clothes she had on earlier, (Y/N) grabbed her backpack and headed down to the den beneath the stairs. Running on autopilot, she set the desk up to her liking and her laptop hummed to life. As it ran through the normal start up routine, she pulled out her notebook flipping to the next blank page feverishly writing down the ideas flowing from her mind. Once they were written and her laptop ready to go, (Y/N) placed her fingertips just over her keyboard. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she began weaving the newest adventure for her characters to tie together the beginning and ending of their story.

The final words appeared on the screen just as the sun pierced over the horizon. The snow glistened as the orange and yellow rays spread across it. The forest in front of her playing a crucial part within her manuscript giving it the perfect setting. (Y/N) sat back in the chair allowing a breath of relief to escape from her lips.

“Did you finish it?” His groggy voice made her smile.

Turning around, she found him leaning against the doorframe. Her eyes traveling the length of his firm, beautiful, naked body. She nodded, turning back around to her desk saving her manuscript one last time before shutting her laptop placing it back into her bag. Standing, she crooked her finger for him to come sit on the chair. Jensen rubbed his eyes before sitting and pulling her onto his lap.

“I did and all because of you.” She kissed him raking her fingers through his hair.

He moaned, “Happy to continue being your muse.”

Two words were burning the tip of her tongue, “Marry me.” She whispered against his lips.

Pulling back, she stared into his dark orbs as the words pushed through the early morning fog, “Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?”

“Were you going to ask me?” She questioned her stomach fluttering with nerves.

“Yes.”

“Yes to marrying me or yes you were going to ask me?” Her stomach churned as silence filled the space between them.

He stood up lifting her with him placing her feet on the ground. Lacing their fingers together, he led her back up to their room walking over to his suitcase. She could not help to admire his bare butt as he bent over retrieving something from the bag.

“I had planned on asking you tonight when I took you out to dinner, but since you beat me to the punchline,” He paused kneeling in front of her, “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), will you marry me?”

The simple band and diamond sparkled as the morning sun kissed it, “Yes… YES!”

He slipped the ring on her finger before scooping her up and tossing her onto the bed hovering over her. His smile took her breath away while tears slipped down her face. He was leaning down to kiss her when she stopped him.

“Wait, I need to write something down before I forget.” She scrambled off the bed grabbing the nearest piece of paper and pen.

“Really? Right now when I’m about to make love to my fiancé and inspiration strikes.” He grumbled laying back on the mattress.

Writing as quickly as possible, she stripped out of her clothes before climbing over his body and kissing him, “That’s the life of marrying a writer. You’re proposal was way better than the one I wrote and I want to make sure I change it when I make revisions.”

He chuckled, rolling her onto her back then slowly pushing within her, “Shut up and let me love you.”

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[konietzko-sylvoran]

Your web, I'm caught

Daily Writing Challenge Day 9 Cycle / Poison 9/28

Starcaller Lure was a fairly well known and sought out night/dance club within Suramar that was established a few thousand years ago. A dance club with elaborate themed shows each night that catered to a vast range of patrons especially once Suramar was free from events with the legion. Rumor had it the employees of Starcaller Lure be them dancers, bouncers, or even simple servers, they all seemed rather close-nit and happily employed. In fact many were rumored to live beneath the club’s ground level as during the time of the Resistance, it was a well guarded secret that a select few were permitted to seek refuge within its walls as well.  It was there that I met him, Sivandris Lumenstone the owner of the club itself. A shal’dorei who was never found without his leather and lace. A hedonist who took his devotion to the pursuit of pleasure and self-gratification to the top and lived his life through offering such to every one of his patrons and those who sought refuge within his walls. It was no surprise that when someone who was overly self-involved, vain and selfish as I happened to cross paths with someone who fed my desire for erotic gratification from admiration of my own physical attraction that we were a beautiful mess from the start.    

What started as just a drink at the bar lead to an entire bottle, too many shots to count and then some. I had no idea who he was then, for all I knew he was just one of the many tantalizing escorts his club had to offer. I was captivated within his lure from the moment he first gave me a sip of his liquid courage. We engaged in idle conversation entirely focused on myself and his playful advances. He read me like a book but considering he’d devoted his life to pleasing his patrons it was no surprise that he knew exactly what I’d come there to find. I still to this day don’t know why the owner of the club itself chose me as his target patron that night, but then again I had no idea who he was either. Perhaps it was the fact we were both truly lonely despite the many eyes who were drawn to both our magnetism.

I can still remember his first dance for me, he took me by surprise and captivated me from the very start as he gave me a fine display of his leather and lace from atop my table while I finished my wine. The night was in full swing by then and yet I had eyes only for him and he knew it. Hooked line and sinker, he’d enticed me with the power of his own confidence and allure as I realized for the first time just how attracted I was to the magical body of the Nightborne just because of the way he displayed his own and every rune tattoo he had placed beneath that leather and lace. Like he was plucked from the night sky itself his body glittered with starlight, shimmering as the light caught it in different arrays of color and his long white hair always fell in place like he was well aware how it’d slide along his curves and further add to the show.

It wasn’t just the dance, the lights and the beat of the music he offered me either. It seemed I had not yet had my fill so when he offered me a selection of his goods I didn’t hold back. Before I knew it we were both snorting lines and laughing as I was losing myself in the night... no, I was losing myself in him. He pulled me to the dance floor then and our bodies merged in our heated dance as we both lost ourselves in the beat and the lights. I vaguely recall at some point he offered me a kiss, though not in the traditional way one might. He offered it by showing me his tongue, and on it was a tiny pill. Again I was tempted and again he caught me within his game as soon our lips were locked in a heated display of drug and alcohol induced passion. One taste and just like that his lips were in every way a venomous poison.

I remember finding myself stumbling out of the bathroom at some point, lost in a blur of visual overload as my body was on fire, my heart was racing and I felt alive with energy and the thrill of the night. I joined the crowd as I gave myself to the beat of the music and to the flashes of light and I remember thinking that I had never felt so alive! There was people everywhere, and his stage was lined with dancers who were all just as alluring as he was. I was confused and upset when the DJ had stopped the music to make an announcement, one that meant little to me as I was new there. But the crowd seemed to know what it was and they went wild. Trusting in their energy I stayed instead of ducking out. Before I knew it, there he was again, this time center stage and the music picked back up. 

I don’t know if it was the drugs, the alcohol, or if it was just that he was that good but I’ll never forget that first show. The first... that would lead to many others though I knew it not at that time. The dance he offered, the display of leather and lace and the silk he danced with. I was mesmerized, captivated, and I swore every time he looked into the crowd he was looking right at me. Even as the other elves who had so much to offer in their display came out to dance with him, I had eyes for only him.  He danced his way into my mind, body and soul that night, and I willingly embraced every temptation he offered. It was like wildfire as we barely made it through the club, down the stairs and to his private personal quarters below ground. Perhaps I should have considered the fact that not one of his security seemed alarmed by this but by then my mind was hype focused on one thing and my body held every drop of poison we’d consumed together coursing through it. 

I still didn’t even know his name, I didn’t need too. I still didn’t know he was the owner, I didn’t care. I didn’t know that he was a wedded man, I hadn’t thought to ask. It was careless, reckless and he knew exactly how to feed what I craved. One doesn’t make a living for as long as he had not reading people and understanding desire on a deeper level, and for all my walls and restraint he knew exactly how to numb them till they were entirely gone. The night was a blur, and so too was much of the morning when I woke stuck in what felt like an eternal daze. 

“Come with me,  Mon rêve“ The following morning he did very little to convince me to embark on a journey with him. Very little, because I was already lost in his lure in every way. To ease the pain of the hangover he offered me yet another drug of some sort I knew not what, but I also didn’t care. He asked me to come with him as he was to set forth through all of Azeroth in search of the night life it had to offer. To learn of the different races and all that they desired so he might return with new ways to lure those to his own show. The offer to see the world, to lose myself night after night with someone who I couldn’t take my eyes off of. And every step of the way we’d lose ourselves in each other, in our experience, and in quite literally -all- that Azeroth had to offer those who sought what he had already offered me. It was an offer that I couldn’t refuse, because I wanted it... I wanted him and every form of erotic gratification he could offer me. What I didn’t know, was that I was agreeing to become his drug of choice. Or perhaps I did, and I just didn’t care as by then his poison had seeped itself deep within my veins. And thus we started that vicious cycle. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months as we traveled and indulged from city to city horde and alliance both. Dance clubs, night clubs, theater tropes, burlesque shows, we even traversed the back streets to find the best drugs on the market, the best vineyards the world had to offer, even some exotic clothiers that were elated to work with him in bringing new styles to his performers. And night after night I lost myself in him and sometimes in others. We ‘sampled’ as much as we liked most times together, other times not but this was just part of that experience I had thought. When in reality, this was just part of him.  A vicious cycle of lies, insecurities and doubts all hidden and cured by the lure of our next fix be it in the drugs, the drink, the dance or each other. We started it together both willing, I no more a victim than he. We should have known then where it would lead us, but back then... we simply didn’t care.  @daily-writing-challenge​ ((The artwork of the Shal’dorei above was actual artwork done of the character Sivandris - and this was a retelling of how an old roleplay actually played out and their story began.))

[felix-the-cat]

Friday, May 29, 2020 – 3:44 a.m.

There is one thing you should know. We have been working diligently behind the scenes, or between the dimensions at it were, to bring about this New Earth that some of you who are open and receptive are now experiencing.

You have been given a New Gift of expanded creativity and have now been set free to create on a whole new level. It is much like owning a new car that is equipped with so many new technologies. This New Vessel you have been gifted with is You.

Take it for a spin. See how you like it. It is going to reveal much to you in the years ahead. Already thousands of you are beginning to become familiar with living in this new light system that is upon you and are able to freely travel upwards into the 5th dimension and back.

We are going to be revealing more and more as time passes. You have been given increased capacity for Love and compassion and are now able to hold much more Light in your system. This is a New Day indeed.

Bring the others with you as far as they are willing to travel. For some, this time seems scary because they seem to be trapped in an old system that is crumbling around them. For these people, their eyes will soon adjust to the Light. They will be seeking your guidance. Be gentle with them. They have not been doing the Spiritual work that is necessary to learn how to use this New Vessel that has been given them. They are in shock.

Begin by showing them how to use these new controls that have so increased your capacity for Love and understanding. They are in desperate need of your help at this time. They seem to be stuck in fear. Show them the way out. Let your Light shine so brightly that they can find their way Home.

You have come here at this time to enjoy the fruits of your labors and are being gifted with a New Earth. The Grand Mother Gaia is speaking to you at this time. She is welcoming you home and her heart is merging with yours. She thanks you for the work you have done. Her frequency has been much amplified.

The darkness has and is currently being exposed to the Lights that have been turned on. Some would call this a Spiritual battle, but it is simply a New Light Energy that is being poured directly onto the earth at this time. When a light is turned on in a room, did the light battle the darkness or did it simply do what Light does, SHINE brightly?

This is what you are all doing. You are letting your light shine on the darkness and it is simply being swept away. It is transmuting and healing at this time to make way for the New Structures of humanity to come into reality.

These are the times that have been written about in so many of your texts. This is the Dawn of a New Age; so young, yet somehow so familiar. You have been here before and you are remembering why you came to earth at this time in history.

Your internal light has been activated and you are competing your mission. You are right where you are supposed to be and are remembering what it is you came here to do. No longer do you walk in darkness trying to remember what is going on. That which has laid dormant in you has now been activated.

This is merely the beginning. You are about to witness a revolution in consciousness the likes of which this world has never seen before. This is the New Golden Age and is extremely magical. These things which are coming to pass are much like a dream being kicked into second gear. Move that vessel of yours along and really learn what it can do.

We are here to show you how to navigate in this new system. We are the GPS, or God Positioning System, if you prefer the term. These are truly exciting times for all that have eyes to see. Begin by going deep within and there you will find all you seek. Your true north resides there.

Many are now able to perceive us with these New Eyes. We are here to help you bring about what is coming but you must ask. We will never impede upon your free will. You have a truly amazing gift here and are on the cutting edge of creation.

You are being shown how to navigate these New Waters. You will be showered with these New Gifts as needed. We are here to help you clean up the mess you have made here so you may run and play in a new Paradise Garden; one that is free for all to enjoy.

Stay in the Heart of God and remain pure of intent. Enjoy your Dynamic New System that is emerging all around you. These are the times you have prayed for. We are here to enjoy them with you. We are your Spirit Guides and are here to help you remember why you came here.

Your job is simple; be the Light. Your very presence upon this planet is all that is needed. You are raising the vibration of the earth by simply being here. You may do certain things such as draw, write, paint or whatever your creative talent is and that is a beautiful thing. This is simply a by-product of a highly creative being doing what he or she enjoys.

These things which you bring forth are necessary in order to show the world the Light you bring to the table. However, as you begin your own ascension you may find that no matter what you are doing you are filled with peace, joy and love.

The other things you may feel at times such as fear and anger are being drawn out of you. Be gentle with yourself and do not judge yourself. You are simply being the Light. You have come here at this time to simply let your Love Light shine so brightly.

These things which occur that may seem unpleasant are a temporary occurrence in your New World. You are still human after all. Your Light shines on the others who are desperately trying to find out how they may let their own Light shine. You may be the one who shows them.

These things that are occurring at this time have been very intense for a reason. It is much like a plane gaining altitude. It pushes you back in your seat and is very intense as we gain altitude. However, the plane is leveling off and you are beginning to feel the peace that comes with soaring amongst the clouds.

You no longer feel the need to be of a dualistic nature as your Higher Self merges with you and you are shown how necessary all this has been for the waking of humanity. These times are increasing awareness on so many levels and many things have been brought to Light, so to speak.

Things are not always what they seem. Things which seem so bad on the front end seem to reveal themselves as the greatest of gifts; for there is Light at the center of the darkness and is revealed if you have the courage to go through the darkness and look deep within.

Look within yourself and you may find that the darkness within you has been the Grand Illusion all along, for only Light truly exists. The darkness is in your reality as a backdrop to the stars. It is the setting where you can choose to create a truly brighter future indeed. It is revealing itself to you in order that you may see beyond its illusion.

Thank you for being here to do the work that the world has so desperately needed. These are the times that will be written about in your history books as when mankind truly awakened and you are a part of it. Welcome to the Great Awakening…

[dweemeister]

Movie Odyssey Retrospective

The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (1949)

Walt Disney seemed to have been mentally drifting in the 1940s, producing a scattershot of films without the artistic discipline he displayed prior to Bambi (1942). His attention wavered between the package animated features, his forays into live-action features and nature documentaries, and taking mental notes about the new medium of television. As Walt approached his 50s, the strain of the work he had thrust upon his studio and himself was beginning to show.  In his nurse, Hazel George, he found a rare confidant (it was a friendship, nothing more). He noted his personal need to move forward on projects, rather than tolerate any stalling. “I’m going to move on to something else because I’m wasting my time if I mess around with that any longer,” he told George about his projects stuck in development hell. That was the difficult reality facing The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad – directed by Jack Kinney, Clyde Geronimi, and James Algar – as it became the final animated feature of the package era of Disney animation.

Walt was dividing his time between this film, building a personal miniature railroad in his backyard (the genesis of the idea that would become Disneyland), a nostalgic and personal dramedy of rural turn-of-the-century America in So Dear to My Heart (1948), the start of his True-Life Adventures series of nature documentaries with Seal Island (1948), and restarting the studio’s line of non-package animated features. Of all these things, The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad probably consumed the least of his attention. A feature-length adaptation of Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows had been in the works at the studio in the months before the United States’ entry into World War II, but was halted due various factors: the war, the Disney animators’ strike, and Walt’s belief that Grahame’s book did not justify a feature-length treatment. Work on an adaptation of Washington Irving’s The Legend of Sleepy Hollow began in 1946. But unlike The Wind in the Willows (which also resumed production in 1946), the adaptation of Irving’s story was always envisioned as a segment to a package film – not a standalone feature. Itching to return to animated features and still not convinced in the potential of a feature film surrounding Mr. Toad and friends, Walt announced the merging of the two projects in 1947.

The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad uses a live-action library as a framing device. The Wind in the Willows makes up the film’s first half; The Legend of Sleepy Hollow closes it out. Each half has a narrator that, at the time, was at their career’s peak. The opening half is narrated by Basil Rathbone (1938’s The Adventures of Robin Hood and as Sherlock Holmes in fourteen movies from 1939-1946); the concluding half by Bing Crosby (best known for his musical career, but was also an enormous box office draw with the Road to… series among other films). Both Rathbone and Crosby hold up Mr. Toad and Ichabod Crane, respectively, as exemplary characters of their home nation’s literature.

The Wind in the Willows begins in 1908 as J. Thaddeus Toad, Esq. harbors an insatiable appetite for adventure, rather than being shut in his elegant Toad Hall estate all day. His friends Rat, Mole, and Angus MacBadger (also his accountant) mostly tolerate Toad’s newest crazes. When, for the first time, Toad spots a motor car, his eyes widen and he is enamored with this newfangled contraption. Toad’s obsession turns into recklessness – leading him to some fraudulent dealings with weasels and legal trouble.

On the surface on Walt Disney’s concerns with The Wind in the Willows, I disagree that Grahame’s novel could never be a feature film.* As presented, the segment runs a neat and all-too-brief half-hour. In an era of communal moviegoing and when a single movie ticket often bought the purchaser a double feature (a B-picture followed by an A-picture, with film trailers, short films, serials, or newsreels in between), The Wind in the Willows is presented as the film’s B-segment. That should not be taken as a swipe on the segment’s quality, however. The Wind in the Willows is a marvel of narrative compactness and situational madness that tees up Alice in Wonderland (1951). Whenever necessary, the narration and newspaper headline montages accelerate the plot. The pace is breakneck, but that never threatens to make The Wind in the Willows incomprehensible. It is filled with dry English wit, benefitting from wonderful voice acting from Eric Blore (a regular supporting actor in Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers musicals for RKO) as Toad and J. Pat O’Malley (Tweedledum and Tweedledee in Alice in Wonderland, 1954’s Dial M for Murder) as Toad’s horse, Cyril Proudbottom. When both Toad and Cyril are introduced in the short song “Merrily on Our Way (to Nowhere in Particular)” – music by Frank Churchill and Charles Wolcott, lyrics by Larry Morey and Ray Gilbert – it is a perfect overture to the madcap misadventure that is about to occur.

Animator Frank Thomas’ (the dwarfs from 1937’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Captain Hook for 1953’s Peter Pan) character designs for Toad, Rat, and Mole are simple, fluid, without too much definition (think Winnie the Pooh). As such, all three are highly expressive figures easily adaptable to the comic scenarios that stumble onto. So much is related to the audience with a crazed grin from Toad, an exasperated sigh from Rat, and Mole’s concerned face. Similar praise must also be dedicated for a side character – namely, the Crown Prosecutor designed by Ollie Johnston (the three animated principal characters in 1946’s Song of the South, the fairy godmothers of 1959’s Sleeping Beauty). The Crown Prosecutor does not appear in the film for long, but his elastic limbs and body – outside Johnston’s wheelhouse – provide a simultaneously comic and menacing contrast to the anthropomorphized animals he towers over. Like all of Disney’s package film segments before it, The Wind in the Willows has numerous instances where the backgrounds and character animations compare unfavorably to the studio’s Golden Age works. But does the lack of painterly backgrounds or character design definition mean much when the piece in question is aiming purely for laughs? Not really. This is some of the best comic filmmaking made by the Disney studios in its history, even though it seems to have been overshadowed by what happens next.

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow takes place in Colonial-era Sleepy Hollow, New York. Ichabod Crane, the town’s new schoolteacher, is a thin dandy (“lean and lanky, skin and bone / with clothes a scarecrow would hate to own”) possessing an enormous appetite. The man looks nothing like a ladies’ man, but he is exactly that – to the annoyance of town rogue and proto-Gaston, Brom Bones. Brom and Ichabod vie for the attention of Katrina van Tassel, the daughter of wealthy farmer Baltus van Tassel. Noting Ichabod’s superstitious ways, one night Brom tells the story of the Headless Horseman – a stratagem that succeeds in spooking the schoolteacher.

Mary Blair’s midcentury modernist design and coloration for Sleepy Hollow reflects the folksiness of the village, Ichabod’s occasional naïveté. Her curved lines for the surrounding countryside – notice how her trees curve in improbable ways – make it an inviting, down-home place to live. Putting the segment’s climax aside, the backgrounds lend an atmosphere similar to early autumn, as the calendar year begins to wither away.

This, of course, is turned on its head when Ichabod encounters the Headless Horseman. Blair’s backgrounds are blanketed in black, blue, and purple – emphasizing Ichabod’s physical isolation in these moments. The trees blend into an abstract tapestry, as if one cannot see only a few feet outside of the road. Outside of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’s uninteresting romantic wooing scenes, the segment is an exemplar of atmosphere and how to successfully change a film’s tone with animation. Wolfgang Reitherman’s (an animator who later became a prominent director with the Walt Disney Studios in the 1960s) smooth character animation specific to the Headless Horseman chase contrasts Ichabod’s flexibility with the sharpness of the Headless Horseman and his horse. Reitherman’s approach to the characters, combined with Blair’s style for the backgrounds, heightens Ichabod’s full-bodied terror against the Horseman’s frightening presence.

The segment’s pedestrian character animation is unfortunate and is the film’s most visible example of cost-cutting. Yet Ichabod and Brom’s designs – by Ollie Johnston and Milt Kahl (Prince Philip in 1959’s Sleeping Beauty, Tigger in the Winnie the Pooh short films) respectively – are excellent. Ichabod’s outwardly-angled, high-footed gait proclaims immediately his peculiarity in behavior and temperament. His impossibly thin body is bendable to achieve tremendous comic effect while still resembling something like a human. When providing three village women singing lessons, Ichabod (voiced, like Brom, by Bing Crosby), assumes many of Bing Crosby’s affectations while singing himself – those raised eyebrows, that jowl movement. This scene is much funnier if one is familiar with Bing Crosby’s film (and to a lesser extent, television) appearances. For Brom, his muscular frame is a first for a Disney animated feature, providing a somewhat threatening feel for the song, “The Headless Horseman” (which introduces the idea of the segment’s villain). On paper, Brom should be the segment’s antagonist, but things are not clear cut – especially because Ichabod himself has questionable motives in his pursuit for Katrina. Decades later, Kahl’s character design for Brom heavily influenced Andreas Deja’s design for Gaston in Beauty and the Beast (1991). Deja would take some of Brom’s features, add more details and exaggerations, and provide his antagonist a more sneering disposition for Gaston.

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow also has the benefit of songs sung by Bing Crosby and composed by Don Raye (known for various Andrews Sisters songs) and Gene de Paul (1954’s Seven Brides for Seven Brothers). The first, “Ichabod”, is the one number I always find stuck in my head and singing to myself throughout a given day (I also notice, while singing, I’m trying to imitate Crosby’s suave delivery, to little avail). It also serves as an ideal introduction to the character – outlining his personality in less than two minutes. Midway through the segment is “Katrina”, which is as musically uninteresting as the character herself. “The Headless Horseman”, also an earworm, plays on Ichabod’s fears and is a wonderful transition into this film’s most famous sequence.

The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad is the best animated feature from the Disney package era. Its two halves – so distinct in style and narrative approach – are incongruent, some may say an unnatural pairing. But moviegoing audiences in 1949 so used to the B- and A-picture format of film exhibition were also accustomed to feature film pairings with little rhyme or reason. A flighty musical comedy might lead into a war movie; a romantic melodrama before a fast-paced swashbuckler; a seedy film noir giving way to a grand historical epic. Many decades removed from the moviegoing attitudes of this era, the pairing of The Wind in the Willows with The Legend of Sleepy Hollow pays off due to the stylistic distinctions between these two segments. Compared to its package era predecessors, The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad has taken the time to shape its characters. For Toad, his motor car mania is a mostly innocent obsession that has endured; Ichabod Crane is forever associated with a harrowing chase through a gnarled wood. Their characterizations come through despite the limitations put upon the studio’s animation staff.

A modest success for Walt Disney, The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad is now mostly described as a transitional film. The film sees the Disney animators flex their artistry before the resumption of the studio’s traditionally-structure animated features. Sometime during the final stages of this film’s development, Walt and his brother Roy E. Disney fought over the former’s desire to return to features, to recapture the thrill that he felt when he produced Snow White. Under protest, Roy relented and approved a budget for Cinderella (1950) – the first film of Walt Disney Productions’ “Silver Age” films. While Ichabod and Mr. Toad wound down, more resources were being pooled into Cinderella.

This was the effective end to a creatively restrictive period in the studio’s history, but also to some of the most unique offerings in the Disney filmography. Audiences have seldom seen the concise characterizations, Warner Bros.-influenced outlandish humor, romanticized American folk storytelling and propaganda, and experimental animation in a Disney animated feature to the present day. Each of these aspects could be found throughout Disney’s package films – which, for any serious fan of animated film, cannot be dismissed offhand. In a decade of war and global reconstruction, the studio stood mostly alone in the realm of feature animation. But not for much longer. In Europe, animation studio Soyuzmultfilm was beginning to distribute its films beyond the Soviet Union’s borders. And with Walt Disney’s attention straying from his animated films, his animation studio’s record of sterling creativity – already hobbled by the animators’ strike and wartime budget cuts – would be further challenged.

My rating: 7.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

This is the eighteenth Movie Odyssey Retrospective. Movie Odyssey Retrospectives are reviews on films I had seen in their entirety before this blog’s creation or films I failed to give a full-length write-up to following the blog’s creation. Previous Retrospectives include Dracula (1931), Godzilla (1954, Japan), and Oliver! (1968).

* A “feature film” – as defined by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS), the American Film Institute (AFI), and the British Film Institute (BFI) – is a film lasting forty minutes or longer.