#man i forgot how fun metal is to render

[crabs-brencil]

jumpstart yo secunit

[glasswinggames]

OHO???? Writing prompts? Then I send one in for my most beloved Jedrek, perhaps the mc is enraptured with how he appears in photos(they.....have some form of camera right? I assumed so with the magitech and what its capable of in this game), even outside of the little reporting work they do, so more often than not they end up staring at him like hes a piece of art- maybe this happens so often the mc spaces out- a vague prompt but I figure u can work more with this since im giving a specific interest for this prompt

Omg I love writing Jed!! 👀 And this prompt!!

Also they do have matech! The exact design of the camera is still being workshopped but I'm kinda imagining it having steampunk type vibes!

Writing below expand more line! Thank you for the prompt! 😘

For extra fun tidbits I was listening to In the Middle of the Night by Elley Duhé when writing this! (That's my go to song for Jed!)

CW: References to blood and m0rder

At first, you'd only kept the photograph to remember his face. So that even when your mind forcefully forgot his name, his gravelly voice, or the feeling of his hands brushing against your throat every time he wanted to remind you what he was capable of, you'd always remember what he looked like. It was never meant to be anything more than that, a preventative measure to protect yourself from the monster of a man who you'd come to… collaborate with. 

Yet, as you stare at the Polaroid like picture, tentatively perched between two fingers, you can't explain the feeling that curses you. For what should horrify you to your core, what in fact already horrifies the nation every time they see one of your articles, instead you find it hauntingly beautiful. The way he postures, ready to pounce on his victim, how the moonlight catches his hair to reflect an opalescent glow, how his pointed teeth bare in his cruel smile… it's artistic in a way.

Though, whether it's your own talent or the subject of your lens that you admire, is not something you find easy to answer. 

Your eyes flit between the photo and the almost perfect recreation of the scene that unfolds before you until the photo is no longer sufficient, your gaze completely entranced by the killer. You barely even notice the prey, their screams just a background noise at this point. You wonder, what scene must Jedrek be showing the helpless victim for his ruby eyes to gleam so brightly, to render him so full of delight that his pale cheeks flush in satisfaction, as his teeth bare, poised and ready to take his prize at the perfect moment.

You know you should take be taking pictures right now, but you can't bring yourself to trigger the camera; you're too lost in the terrifying beauty of it all. 

“Am I boring you, Kitten?” The gravelly breath against your ear breaks you from your daydream, and your senses are overwhelmed by the metallic smell as your space is completely invaded by the subject of your thoughts. Though his crimson stained lips curve into a smile, you can tell, for having been the one to capture his every expression, that he isn't happy.

“I was just distracted, trying to decide the right shot to take for tomorrow's edition.” You know he can hear that slight jump in the pace of your heartbeat when you lie, you know that he is almost breathing in the signs of your attempt at deceit, as is his nature, but you still try regardless. 

“I'm sure I gave you plenty, yet I didn't see you use that device of yours once.” Fingers against your jaw force you to look at him, and your breath can't help but hitch the same way it did when you first met. Every fibre of your being tells you to run, that he's dangerous, yet it's exactly that same part of you that thinks he's dazzling. A long, sharp finger trails down the artery in your throat. “Now, what exactly were you thinking? Oh, and I wouldn't lie to me again. Your heart always gives you away.”

“You're like a piece of art–” your words bubble out before you could even attempt to stop them, and you can't help but curse yourself for it. 

Unexpectedly, instead of teeth ripping through your throat like you'd braced for, it's laughter that tears through the air. 

“Jed?” Your voice ripe with disbelief, you daringly question the man who cackles with pure joy at your answer. 

Before you can react, his arms enclose you against the wall, the stone scratching at any exposed skin on your back, and he gives no opening for escape. His whole body casts yours in shadow, as if he suddenly grows several feet, and the only light that highlights you both is the ravenous glow of hellfire in his eyes. 

“You are such a strange one, I'm starting to think you're not half as afraid of me as you should be. Maybe I should rectify that.” 

“No!” Your voice comes out embarrassingly strangled. You've seen what he's capable of, and you had no desire to be on the receiving end, even if you did seem to have a tendency to enjoy watching the show. “I know exactly how scared I should be.”

“Ah that's the key word, should. You should be scared of me, but instead, I don't think you'd complain if I was to make you scream.” 

“No… that…” Your mind scrambles over the innuendo, trying to figure out whether he actually meant his implication or whether he was teasing you… again.

“Hm, turns out there's more ways other than fear I can use to make your heart race Kitten. How fun.” He seems delighted at the fact; he did always love something new and entertaining. “What else could I do to make it jump for me?” Fingers whisper against your shoulders, down your arms, interlocking with your own… and pinning your hands above your head. His grip is inhumanely strong, and no matter how much or little you struggle, it does nothing but appear to amuse him. “What if I was to do this?” His low voice somehow drops further as he leans in to brush just against the lobe of your ear. “You wouldn't know if I was going to make you relive every nightmare you've ever had,” whilst one hand remains to restrain your own, the other thumb runs against your lower lip. You can taste the iron stain left in his wake. “Or if I was going to kiss you.” He laughs, deep and low, “though who says I can't do both. Pleasure and pain both sound fun, don't they?” 

“Yet you do neither.” You gulp with whatever stupid bravado you decide to muster. Why are you so reckless? Did your sense of self-preservation just decide to go off on a holiday? Or are you just an idiot–

“I don't think you could handle it, and I'd hate for you to break too quickly.” His hand finds purchase over your throat, applying a warning amount of pressure.

“I'm not scared of you, Jedrek.” 

“You should be.” 

[cielsosinfel]

its 4am so i need to log OFF and go to BED but my mind is spinning with dishonored dishonored dishonored. this game really meant the world to me when i was... fucking... 18 years old lmao wow. i'm really not very far at all, i have just made my way to Claring Blvd, but some thoughts, i guess:

for a game that came out on consoles in 2012, it looks amazing. the stylization aged very VERY well even if some gameplay elements didn't. (and to be honest, the gameplay isn't as clunky as i was worrying it'd be.) (i do think there must have been a better, less confusing button mapping option for sneak-stabbing vs sneak-choking.)

i still love how beat up everyone's faces look in this. though, the women could stand to be more beat up and have more varied face shapes. also the NOSES

forgot that literally everyone wears pants because apparently skirts and dresses don't exist in the dishonoredverse? at least not in dunwall. which seems very fitting tbf.

the amount of thought and depth poured into the lore of the world dishonored takes place in, the amount of WORLDBUILDING, when you never even leave the walls of dunwall, is still one of my favorite things about it. i think the writers in charge of the flavor text strewn about as notes and books did a good job giving all of these details that flesh the setting out but still leave so much mystery that could be expanded on.

i love the atmosphere obviously but i love the just, entire atmosphere around the whales in this universe, their place in the world and its foundational myths and religions and the economic exploitation, everything it symbolizes for THESE ancient, magical leviathans to be brutally killed en masse to be rendered down to oil and heretical charms. and it reminds me yet again, of the common fanon of pre-DH2 fandom, where the outsider was a whale, or something older than the whales who brought them forth into the world or merely has a particular fondness and affinity for them, and he was never a human in anything but false flesh, only worn to put the mortals who reach out to him at something like ease, or just acknowledge the limitations of these beings who can't fathom whale song. what i'm saying is, i'm really still annoyed they canonized the whole "teenaged sacrifice victim" origin for him instead of having more fun with the magical ancient whales stuff u_u

something i hadn't noticed until this replay is the voice acting is very flat? i think it's easy to tell it's a voice direction thing. like, wow, so many charactes just speak Very Flat, almost monotone at times. it does take me out of the dialogue, ngl. i think as a 17/18 year old i wasn't paying nearly as much attention to like, writing and acting as i do now, so its sticking out. havelock especially sticks out. also funny to realize just how many background NPCs are voiced by the same three or four VAs...

the heart mechanic is still one of the most fun and enjoyable game mechanic gimmicks that ties in SO perfectly with the narrative itself. it's also just so funny to imagine corvo following people around the hound's pit, like barely a foot away from their back, holding a freshly-beating heart in his hand and burning a hole into the other person's head with such an INTENSITY trying to wring every little observation out of the lump of metal-choked flesh he holds (while the heart tells him how god dang suicidal they are. oh lydia and cecelia)

i'm thinking of all the woobie corvo angst fics i ever read where the heart is basically an emotional support haunted organ and going wuwuwuwu while i replay

i think now, as a 30 year old gay man instead of a teen girl, i desire samuel carnally (more specifically desire to see him and corvo fuck each other senseless) even MORE STRONGLY

ok i gotta do homework today good night

[hankwritten]

Hofstadter’s Law

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for MinnesotaMedic821, Drunk

“You sure this best way in, Jane?” Demo muttered quietly as he gazed up at the looming concrete spires of BLU base.

“I am very sure!” Soldier said, not quietly at all. Practically yelling actually. Right in Demo’s ear too, what with his arm slung around the RED’s shoulders as the only thing keeping him upright.

“Shhh!” Demo hushed him. “You want me to go half-deaf as well as half-blind? ‘Sides, the last thing we need right now is the other BLUs hearing us.”

Soldier’s head, lolling like a pad of butter sliding around a hot pan, took a long and winding trip from one side to the other. “…Why?”

“…Because I’m a RED in the middle of a nest o’ BLU corn snakes?” Demo raised a brow. “Ach, you really did have a number done, didn’t you? Remind me not to let you near the Everclear again.”

“Okay! I will definitely remind you!”

Demo eyed him dubiously. “Remind me what, Jane?”

The grey shell of the helmet stared at him for several seconds. “…What?”

“Let’s just get you in, aye? We can do all sorts of filling in each other’s memories when your toesies are tucked safe under your covers.”

But in order get the Soldier safely in bed, they’d need to first traverse the minefield of potential termination that was the center of BLU operations. No problem at all really. It was late—even if some of the mercs had hit the town like Demo and Soldier had, they’d certainly be back by now, fast asleep, no chance at all of waking up and discovering a very difficult to explain situation in the form of an enemy merc carrying around their Soldier. As long as they were quiet, they’d be perfectly safe.

Demo guided Soldier towards the back doors, at which point they promptly ran into the enemy Demoman.

The BLU, spread out on a fabric lawn chair surrounded by dust, desert, and least a half-dozen bottles, blinked wide-eyed at the pair who’d just come around with the low-speed but high-inertia gait of a drunk couple. He shook his head slightly, as though to dispel the ‘ole three am fog and ascertain that yes, that truly was his teammate being helped along by the RED demolition’s man. Demo, for his part, froze like he’d been staked to the ground.

Soldier, as heavy things are want to do, kept going at his expected velocity. It nearly took them both over—Demo had to abandon the arm under his shoulders, lunging to haul Soldier up the waist and folding him in half like a Panini.

“Well,” the BLU in the lawn chair said, “you two look like you had fun.”

His face was a mish-mash of raised brow and, perplexingly enough, a smirk at the corner of his mouth as he bore witness to the two truants. Most shockingly of all, there wasn’t a trace of surprise on his face now, just those shades of smug amusement you put on when watching a particularly entertaining drunkard. The fact that Demo was used to having that expression leveled at him was neither here nor there.

“Er…” he said eloquently.

The flash of dread that’d shot through him when he’d caught sight of the BLU was the worse case scenario of course: reported on, fired, dead in a gravel pit somewhere, all rendered in gory detail by his mind’s eye. (His overactive imagination a bloody menace sometimes.) But as the BLU continued to sit there, not sounding the alarm, not even looking particularly worried, Demo’s fear for his own neck slowly morphed into confusion.

“I was just er-”

“Oh, hello Demoman!” Soldier chimed in. “We have been out. Drinking alcohol!”

“I’ve heard that’s a fun pastime,” his teammate commented mildly.

“Don’t tell him that,” Demo complained, hauling Soldier to an upright position. “Jesus, this er, isn’t what it looks like, honestly.”

“Sure it isn’t,” the BLU said, wearing what could now be identified unmistakably as a smirk. He gestured with his bottle. “Back entrance ‘s that-a-way.”

A little ball of defensiveness, not matter how unjustified, rolled around in Demo’s gut to the point he wanted to stop and give the other Demoman a piece of his mind. Which would probably involve lying. And then consequences to lying since Soldier had already given away this wasn’t a one time thing. He shut his gob and took the out.

Until the hum of the BLU’s resumed tune was far behind them, until the curving architecture of the base would keep them from being overheard, he didn’t dare start asking questions. Only when he was sure that the corner they’d rounded was at a significant distance away did he accusatorily hiss, “what was that about?”

“Hm?” Soldier asked pleasantly. He fixed a dopey smile on his friend, a second ago which had been the responsibility of a beetle crawling a tuft of bullheadidly tenacious grass.

“Your Demo, why’d you tell him where we were? And why didn’t he flip out?”

“You’re my Demo,” Soldier hummed unhelpfully.

“Ach,” Demo said, realizing he’d get nowhere with the security lights and a whole herd of horseflies bearing down on them. “Fine, lets get you inside first. But I’ve still got some bloody questions.”

They’d arrived at the unassuming little door cut into the base’s thick concrete, welded metal gushing haphazardly from its size as though its very addition had been an afterthought. Demo motioned at Soldier.

“Pass me your keycard, lad.”

“M’what?”

“Keycard.” Demo’s heart sank. “You keep it in your wallet or something, right?”

Soldier stared at the card reader. He stared at long and hard, so long and hard that Demo was starting to wonder if the question had made it through his ear canals at all when he concluded, “I forgot it.”

“You for- Oh for the love of Pete.” Demo took the hand that wasn’t supporting his mate and rubbed it long suffering across his face. “Well that’s great. Bloody great, risk my arse hauling a drunken fart back to his base cause he can’t hold his bloody liquor, and we can’t even get in to the fecking-”

The door hissed, layers of dust shaking loose like with a sci-fi swish as the vacuum seal was opened to the desert night. Demo gawked, watching it shake away grit like it was built into the surface of Mars instead of a dead-end town in the middle of New Mexico, and letting out a wash of air-conditioned oxygen.

When it was partially ajar, it unveiled the BLU Sniper, arms folded and leaning on the inner wall.

“How…what?” Demo asked. Soldier was too busy looking at the beetle again to be perplexed.

“Heard you guys arguing from the roof.” Sniper jerked his thumb upwards. “If you were sneaking ‘round, might want to think about keeping your voice down in the future. Probably could’ve heard you all the way at RED.”

“I wasn’t- We weren’t-”

Sniper waited. When no adequate explanation was forthcoming he said, “you comin’? Cold air’s getting out.”

Demo grimaced, and began the arduous processes of lugging the Soldier inside.

Chill ran up where his t-shirt had sweated to his neck, Soldier fairing no better since they’d spent the past half hour (every moment since Demo had realized Soldier would be going nowhere on his own) with their sides pressed together. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until the cold ai) brought the slightest suggestion of relief to his (admittedly also not terribly sober) body.

“If this is going to be a running thing for you two, maybe don’t get so munted next time, yeah?” Sniper offered. It was neither reprimanding nor conversational, like this was a totally normal exchange happening here with a RED in a BLU hallway.

“Who said anything about a ‘running thing’?” Demo demanded. “You didn’t overhear that!”

Sniper raised a brow. “Soldier said you were his new best mate. I assumed that meant you’d both be out and about more than once.”

Demo grit his teeth, the pieces clicking into place. “Did he now.” He leveled his best attempt at a glare from his blindspot at the disoriented Soldier who, unsurprisingly, was more interested in resting his head on Demo’s shoulder than being reprimanded. “Well that’s good to know. Any chance you can point me to his room?”

Sniper took one gloved hand and shoved a thumb over his shoulder.

“Thanks. Cheers.”

“Goodbye Sniper,” Soldier said belatedly, a good three minutes after he’d disappeared around a corner. “Oh hey! My room!”

“Jane, is there anyone you didn’t tell about us?” Demo demanded.

Soldier thought for a moment. “…I didn’t tell any REDs.”

“Jane,” Demo groaned. “This is supposed to be a secret. What if one of them tells the Administrator? You want that? Going to be hard ever meeting up again if we’re both six feet under.”

For the first time, a bit of shame managed to reach the Soldier through the woolen mesh of his inebriated state, and he looked at his shoes. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just got really excited. Wanted everyone to know I was hanging out with you.”

Demo sighed heavily, not up bullying his friend when he was in such a pathetic sate already. “I know you were. Ach, it’s fine. We’ll talk ‘bout it later.”

Later being sometime after he’d managed to deposit Soldier onto a four-poster, though with the way the night was going it seemed like that moment would never arrive. His outlook wasn’t improved when he opened the door of Soldier’s room and found that not only was it Soldier’s room, but the occupancy of the entire Offense division.

“Whzzat?” Scout said, rolling to his elbow just in time to be bombarded by the hall light. “Ahg, dammit Sol. What the hell man?”

Demo didn’t bother freezing this time, successfully desensitized to literally every BLU on the planet stumbling across his ill-advised trip through the enemy base. Instead, he walked over, dropped Soldier on the bed, and began helping him unlace his boots.

“What the-?” Scout said when he finally lowered his arm. “Oh right. You. Jesus, how ‘bout a little consideration for the sleeping guy?”

“Mmrrhaunna,” came from the bundle in the corner.

“Yeah, what they said.”

“You don’t got the right to be begging consideration from anyone, jackrabbit,” Demo said hotly as he frees the military-grade combat boots from Soldier’s feet. He threw a blanket over the man’s form, who sighed appreciatively and said something about how this would earn Demo a medal. “‘Sides, don’t need to worry about me no more. I just came to drop of your sergeant and get out of here.”

To prove it, he backed out of the room with hands raised. Mission complete. Time to get out of here and bring this mortifying night to an end.

He might have gotten away with it too, if Pyro hadn’t shot straight up and pointed an accusing finger at him. “Mrrhaha! Hudda hah ha hoo.”

Demo reared back slightly from the Pyro who was still very much in their rubber suit, now with added nightcap. Whatever the hell they were saying, they were very impassioned about it. He looked to the Scout for help.

“They want you to tuck them in too,” he said, and the light flooding in from the single open door was good enough to see that he was smirking as he did so.

“Wha- I’m not bloody tucking anyone in,” Demo said hotly.

“Hudda ha. Mrra haa hur ha.”

“You tucked Soldier in,” Scout translated. “Only fair.”

“Gurrhaha.”

“…Otherwise they’ll tattle.”

“I cannae bloody believe this,” Demo groaned, rubbing his face.

Grudgingly, he made his way over the giggling pyrotechnician, absolutely giddy to have gotten their way. Thankfully boots weren’t part of the pajama equation, and Demo had only to tuck in the blanket’s edges ‘round a pair of socked feet and a squirming, suit-clad body. When he tried to leave it at that, a keening noise stopped him, and he was forced to repeat the process for Mayor Balloonicorn. All the while, he could feel the Scout staring smugly at the back of his head.

“D’awww, ain’t that adorable. Going to be hard to be scared of you now, though. Y’know, after you swung by to give us goodnight kisses and all that crap.”

“Just for that, I’m going to have a sticky trap with your name on it, boyo,” Demo pointed an accusing finger in Scout’s direction. He just shrugged.

“But uh,” Scout added, just as Demo was finally about to make his escape. “Glad you turned out to be cool though. He was really gung ho about tonight. Its nice he has good friends besides us.”

Demo cast his gaze to Soldier, who’d fallen fitfully in the short while it’d taken to get Pyro off his back.

“…That’s good. It was a fun time.”

“Oh yeah?” Scout wiggled his eyebrows. “How fun?”

Demo took one of the pillows he’d used to burry Pyro in and flung it at Scout’s face.

“Sticky trap. Your name.”

He could still hear Scout snickering all the way out into the hall.

[jellyfishinc]

Day 4

S1E3 Gold Meddlers

Ah yes. A nice little sketch firing shots at the Olympics, starring the Warners.

Starts off innocent enough, where the Warners are camping and are about to break out the s'mores.

Only problem? Wakko forgot the chocolate! Oh the tragedy! (I'm not entirely convinced Wakko didn't just eat it all and forgot.)

And then, they meet Nils Niedhart, who's described as a "lazily rendered stereotype", there to compete in the Olympics for gold medals.

Apparently the Warners have been camping on the Olympics torch, and Nils won't have them ruining his glory of bringing home the gold.

Upon seeing the medals themselves, they assume the medals are actually high quality chocolate wrapped in gold foil, and decide they're going to enter the Olympics themselves to win them.

As a side note, I think the Olympics would be waaaaaaaay better if the medals were chocolate instead of metal, but that's just me.

Nils wraps them up in their rent and throws them across the world.

Yakko can't help but toss in a pun about it being very "in-tents", and we see THIS.

It's confirmed, folks! Mime is back!

So, after their quick trip around the world in 8 seconds, they declare they will be competing against Nils for the gold medals.

First up: the high dive, and my main man Yakko is the one taking the plunge.

After Nils takes his turn, Wakko and Dot say THIS.

Someone said that this episode was also poking fun at character continuity, to further distance itself from the original show, but I just can't fully buy that.

I sincerely can't recall any sketches where it shows he's bad at math, but it HAS been proven more than once that Yakko's actually pretty damn good at math, to where he even impressed an entire hall of mathematicians enough to where they gave him a standing O.

(Source: Super Strong Warner siblings, and to save you time, just type that into the search bar on my dash, and you'll see what I'm talking about.)

If the bad at math thing turns out to be true, I offer you this: It's only certain types of math he's bad at, much like any other person on the planet can relate to. Take me as an example. My mathematic expertise is in algebra, but put me in geometry or business math, and I'm lost.

Anyway, back to the sketch.

As Yakko prepares to take his own turn at the high dive, we hear Dot confirming what we knew all along.

Yakko obviously wins, and it's Dot's turn, this time in equestrian.

And we get THIS typical sibling banter, with Wakko firing shots at Yakko's World.

And the fact that the songs playing in the background while he does so doesn't hurt either.

Another side note: based off my personal experience, the reason Yakko's is more popular is because we only needed to know the state capitals back in elementary school, whereas in high school we were constantly having to memorize different countries of the world depending on what region we were studying.

And if I'm being honest? Of the two, all I remember is the first verse of Wakko's America, all the way up to Nashville. Which is no one's fault, other than my own for having a crappy memory.

Anyway, they all watch as Dot gets ready to take her turn with a donkey, which turns into a pegasus right before the judge's eyes, and we see THIS.

With a horse like that, it's no wonder she wins, and then it's Wakko's turn.

The event? Ping Pong!

Which Wakko wins in a technicality that states he can in fact eat the ping pong balls and spit them back out.

That's when Nils gets really fired up, and declares he's done going easy on them.

Next up is volleyball, where all three of them are working together, and I just want to take a moment here to show you the brilliance of Yakko Warner's athletic ability.

I don't want to hear one word about toon physics, okay? Even with it, it still has to take a lot of practicing and precision to be able to not only jump that high, but to somersault as you're spiking the ball, and land perfectly on top of the net.

You can't change my mind.

After that comes the discus throw, with Dot taking the lead.

Regardless of how far it went, or toon physics, you can still appreciate how she's strong enough to throw something as heavy as a discus like it's a Frisbee.

And it looks like Yakko and Wakko agree, because we see them do THIS.

[antigenius]

Submission (PART 2)

A/n: so... this took a while. Hope this is good :”))) All characters are aged up as per usual!! Warnings:  NSFW +18, this is a smut (ofc), handcuffs, unprotected sex, sliight yandere.

His fingers nestle inside you, cold thumb pressing against your nub hard. His stare was cold, malice glittered with such ferocity that your heart stopped for a moment. This wasn’t the sweet Deku you met four years back. The one that stuttered and laughed shyly when you flirted with him. This wasn’t the one that made you pancakes and cuddled you for long hours on the couch. 

This Deku was the one you hated.

The one that pushed your buttons. The one that lived to see you mad. The one that held you tight to his chest and made your heart beat become vibrations. The one that held your body by the strings, shackling you to his alluring aura.

His lips enclose yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as his fingers scissor you, stroking with utmost precision. You wouldn’t be surprised if he knew what to do by memory, but how he remembered was the last thought on your mind right now.

“Iz.. Iz…”

His name was trembling from your lips. He smirked.

“Go on love, what’s my name?”

His free hand tips your chin up, a condescending glaze sending burning embers through your veins. The name rolls from your tongue, any semblance of your resistance crumbling in his touch.

“Izuku…!”

A hard press on your nerves made you shudder in absolute euphoria. The cuffs made a rattling noise as he softly chuckles.

“Mhm, don’t wear it out too much now.”

His fingers curled into your sopping walls, feeling you clench and curse around them. You could feel them reignite fires in your stomach, fires that you thought had been doused long ago. Your pitiful cries grow louder, the cuffs jangling fervidly to try and free themselves. Your hands longed to roam down his beautiful chest, pull his curls and get your lips together, to feel his abs rippling under your lips, to feel his pecs just beneath your fingertips.

“Izuk-“

His lips crash onto yours, heat flaring to your cheeks at sudden intensity. His tongue was hot and silky, the piercing leaving a slight metallic taste in your mouth. It was sloppy, it was breathtaking, it was all you needed to become putty in his hands. 

His fingers leave your soaking cunt, the cold air hitting it and making your thighs rub again. 

“C’mon, your turn.”

You look at him quizzically as he rolls his eyes. 

“Dumbass.”

He shoves you down to your knees, unbuckling his belt.  

“Don’t make me use this on you sweets.” He smacks the belt on his palm twice, a resonating ‘smack’ bouncing in the room’s walls. “Only brats need the belt, and you’re not a brat, right?”

You hated his fucking eyes. His eyes would be one day the death of you. The way they looked down on you, how they devoured you and rendered you useless in every single situation had you fuming. He cleared his throat.

“I expect an answer, sweets.”

“Y-Yes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes who?”

“Yes, Deku.”

A smile paints itself onto his face. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

With a bit of rustling, his jeans and boxers hit the floor. He kicks them behind him. 

Now if there was ever a pretty cock, Deku’s was fucking gorgeous. 

The tip was red, angry from being withheld in his boxers, precum dribbling at the top. It was an average length, but gods was it girthy. It could stretch you in ways you couldn’t get from anyone else. Just like the rest of his body, freckles speckled on his dick like constellations. They were like the sprinkles on a cake, the finishing touch to perfection. 

“Whatcha staring for huh?” He smacked the belt again, eyes cold and hard. “Get to it.”

Begrudgingly, you shuffle to him, coming face to face with his cock. You look up at him, and he looks down at you.

“Go on,” he says, “or do you need encouragement?”

You shake your head. 

You face back to the cock in front of you. You start with open-mouthed kisses from the base to the top, earning soft grunts of approval and content from the male receiving. You trail the flat of your tongue against the underside of his member, lazily flicking up after the head. It was just how he liked it.

You watch him carefully as you do this, watching his eyebrows knit together and eyes screw shut, watching the tip of his ears turn a rosy shade of red as he hisses.

“Fuck…”

You take the head of his cock and suck, a low groan leaving his plush lips. Still sensitive, like you remembered. You felt his hands run through your hair as you let more of him into your mouth, easing yourself onto him.

However, you didn’t expect him to push your head all the way. 

“You were taking too long.”

Your gag reflex was strong, but sudden movements like that makes life harder. Tears prick the corner of your eyes in pain, eventually accustoming to his length. You could feel hm pull your hair, humming.

“Aw… Haven’t sucked dick in a while huh?”

You mumbled under your breath. He pulled you off of him, your scalp aching from his strong grip. 

“What did you say?”

You pant, albeit breathless. Nevertheless, you get the words out of you. 

“Not like you’d know.”

He laughs at your statement, his cackles almost sounding maniac.

“Cocky aren’t we?” He giggles. “I nearly forgot how fun you were.”

In one swift motion, he pins you to the wall. The handcuffs clash against the plaster. Your breath leaves your lungs in a whooshing movement, coughing as he comes close to you.

“No one’s like you, sweets. No one hates me like you do. No one despises me like you do.” His lips hover over yours, and you could feel his breath over your lips. “Yet, no one loves me like you do. No one wants me like you do. No one needs me like you do.”

His lips press gently onto yours, not a kiss, but you felt skin upon skin. “So instead of staying in that horrid hate-love cycle…” Deku’s eyes were downcast.

“… why don’t you just let me love you?”

He was so close, your bodies were up against each other, you could feel his heart beating fast just by being near you. He felt so warm…

You swallow down the fuzzy feelings. This man was obsessive! He’d write a whole journal on your every movement, take photos from rooms you didn’t even know had a window, and would find you WHEREVER you were. He was scary. He was not to be trusted.

So why did you melt in his touch?

Why did you let his lips touch yours so delicately, something only lovers would do?

Why did you let him see you so vulnerable, to order you around and wrap you around his finger?

His lips were still, waiting for an answer. Your mind felt like goo, nothing coherent coming to the surface, only that he was right in front of you, waiting.

“I love you.”

Those three words made your heart soar and fall at the same time. Those three words made you angry and happy. Sweet, sour. Being weak and in power. They mixed your bubbling pot of emotions even further, when it was already a mess to begin with. 

Your mouth opens ever so slightly, his lips mimicking your movement. The words you wanted to say however, were stuck. You were choking, choking on nothing and everything.

“I…”

“You don’t have to tell me.” He says, moving away a bit, the cool air on your face a bittersweet refreshment. “I know you’re gonna say-“

“I love you too.”

He stops. He looks at you in complete confusion, eyes blinking in surprise. You hated to admit it, but even with his creepy tendencies, you knew he was a good guy. You knew he was kind, caring and romantic. You knew he’d never hurt someone for no good reason. You knew he was everything you wanted and more. 

You loved him.

“Really?” Deku’s eyes were bright, glittering with joy. “You mean it right? You’re not gonna leave again, right?”

You almost felt guilty now, for breaking up all those years ago. Maybe you had been wrong. Maybe the girls were wrong. Maybe you had to give him another chance. You were just peer-pressured into it by Mina and the gang, but didn’t know Deku like you did, right?

“Here, let me get those off you.”

He brings your hands down, freeing you from the cuffs. They drop to the floor with a clatter. Your eyes flicker from the cuffs back to him. Your eyes met. He approaches you, and this time, you don’t step away.

“May I?”

His hand tips your chin, but it’s different. It’s soft, it’s affectionate, it’s tender. You nod, never taking your eyes off him. He leans down; your noses touch. 

A kiss. 

It was like a contract.

A contract binding you to him. 

He pushes you against the wall again, lifting your legs up and apart. His dick was still fully erect, pulsing, throbbing. His eyes were on you.

“Ready?”

His tone sounded so warm, soothing. You nod again. He pushes into you slowly, stretching you, taking great care to make sure you were okay. You felt loved. You felt cared for. You felt full.

“… I’m gonna move now.”

His thrusts were loving. They explored you, they filled you, like a missing piece of a puzzle you never could’ve solved on your own. You wrap your legs tight around him, letting his hands intertwine with yours. He was so close to you. He was so good to you. 

“Iz-Iz…” The whine spills from your swollen lips. “F-fuc-”

He nips your neck, making you arch your back into him. Small marks bloomed across your neck and chest. Deku was meticulous, making sure there was no space left without some attention. You could hear him mumbling sweet nothings to you, sweet, sweet nothings that left your mind even messier than before.

He re-angles himself a little, hips coming onto yours with a loud ‘slap’. He brushes against your walls, teasingly rubbing your g-spot.

“Izuku!!” You buck into him, desperate to get that pleasure again. He smiles.

“Sorry sweets, I couldn’t help it.” He kisses your jaw. “You’re adorable like this.”

So he rubs again, and again, and again, until you saw stars. You grip his hands tight, knot unfolding.

“Izuku!!!”

He doesn’t answer, so you cum. The pleasure sends a current through your veins, a shuddering moan leaving you. Deku doesn’t stop, instead he carries you onto the sofa, the punishing pace from before getting quicker, his length going deeper.

“W-wait!-“

Your words were nothing. Any attempt at begging or pleading were deaf against his ears. Your walls squeezed tight around him, as if trying to slow him down. The action only spurred him further, the wet squelching sounds reverberating shamelessly. It was only a matter of moments when you felt the feeling rise up again, bubbling in your stomach.

“Izu… ku!”

A quiet growl comes from the back of his throat as he pinched your nipples. “What, sweets?”

“I-I-I-“

He doesn’t let you finish, his lips entangling with yours. It was heated, it was hot. He tasted like strawberries, sickenly sweet. Each kiss was like drinking saltwater. You’d drink and drink, but never felt quenched. Your skin was stained red as he cradled you close, his cock exploring every crevice, every nook and cranny within you. He pulls his lips away from yours, eyes piercing into you.

“Who do you belong to?”

His eyes were dark. Forest green turning to jade. You could barely say anything, let alone reply.

“Who?” He asks again, his thrusts getting sloppier.

“Y-you.”

He shakes his head, rolling your nipple between his forefinger and his thumb. “Who?”

“I… Iz…”

You could feel your whole-body trembling, your whole being quivering beneath him. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your hips pushed hard against his. You could feel electricity crackle down your spine, the building pressure making everything in your vision go white.

“IZUKU!”

Hearing what he wanted, Deku lets himself release, a heavy thick load spilling into you. He lets your back rest against the sofa’s surface, staying in that position so you got every single drop in you. It was hot, viscous, and so filling. You let your tongue hang out in a pant as more came out of him. 

“So…” He presses a kiss to your cheek. “Wanna go for a round two?”

Despite your hate, your despise, your disgust, you had been pulled back into submission.

You were always his, you just needed a little reminder~

[king-finnigan]

Play With Fire - part 7

Y’all already know what to expect from this series but if you don’t: Warning! Smut ahead! Is orgasm denial a warning? If so, here it is, I guess. Warning, orgasm denial? And my awkward dirty talk, I guess.

Woops I forgot to link the masterlist

***

He struggles against his bonds, the metal grating against the wood softly, as Jaskier pushes his finger in further. He groans, clenching around the unfamiliar feeling.

Jaskier shushes him softly, pressing kisses along his jaw. “Relax, love, just relax. It’ll feel better if you’re not so tense.”

Geralt does as he’s told, melting into the mattress, shuddering in quiet pleasure as Jaskier whispers “good boy” to him. The finger sinks in deeper and the initial burn turns into a distinct sort of pleasure, something he’s never felt before.

“Hmm, hold on, love.” Jaskier mutters, softly lifting up one of Geralt’s legs, slinging it over his shoulder, pushing the other to the side with his knee. “There, better isn’t it?”

Geralt can only choke out a hum in agreement before Jaskier pulls his finger partially out, adding another when he pushes back in. And although it feels so wrong to be bound, not in control of what’s going to happen, Geralt can’t help but relax further into the pillows, hips bucking slightly as Jaskier’s fingers push into him.

He groans wordlessly as the young man curls his fingers, hitting a sensitive spot inside Geralt, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine, back arching off the bed a bit.

“Feel good, love?” Jaskier asks, grinning at Geralt from between his legs. “You like it when I do this?” He pushes against Geralt’s prostrate again, massaging it a bit.

“Fuck,” he bites out through gritted teeth, bound hands tightening around the bedframe.

“Answer me, love,” Jaskier commands, wicked grin around his lips, confidence in his voice, the fingers of his other hand curling around Geralt’s hard cock. “Does that feel good?”

Geralt gasps, choking back a moan at the unbridled pleasure that sparks through his veins. “Y- yes,” he manages to whisper out, glaring at Jaskier as the young man looks at him expectantly, fingers stilling. “It feels fucking amazing so don’t you dare stop-”

He gasps when Jaskier moves again, pulling in and out of Geralt expertly. “Was that so hard, love?” He plants open-mouthed kisses on the inside of the leg that’s slung over his shoulder. “You want to come, love?”

Geralt tips his head back, chest heaving with every ragged breath he takes in. He nods frantically, eyes squeezed shut, as Jaskier pushes in one last time, his fingers brushing against Geralt’s prostate before he pulls out completely.

Geralt’s eyes snap open as his budding climax dies down in his veins. He looks back down, glaring at the satisfied smirk on Jaskier’s face. “What the f-”

“Tell me their names.”

Geralt blinks, the fog slowly clearing from his mind. “What?”

“Tell me the names of the people who are trying to send you to prison, and I’ll let you come.” 

Geralt snarls at the young man, tugging at his bonds. “No. I won’t let you kill them.”

Jaskier sighs, disappointed. “That’s unfortunate, love.”

“Why the hell is th-” his voice catches in his throat as Jaskier pushes back in, three fingers this time, his other hand moving around his cock in quick, short movements.

Geralt sees stars when the fingers in him spread a bit, the slight burn only adding to the pleasure. He knows what’s coming, knows what’s going to happen, but between his hands being bound to the bedframe and the pleasure rendering him docile and pliant in Jaskier’s skilled hands, he’s powerless to stop it.

“Please,” he gasps, back arching off the bed, hips bucking slightly, orgasm approaching fast, “please.”

Jaskier laughs softly, hand pulling out of him again, instead pushing down on Geralt’s abdomen, holding him down as his hips move in desperate motions, trying to search out his quickly dwindling climax.

“Please,” he breathes out.

“Their names, love.”

“Never.”

Jaskier sighs again, shaking his head slightly as he smiles. “Oh, love, I could keep going all day and all night until you’re a begging, panting mess underneath me. You can’t keep this up much longer.”

Geralt grits his teeth, chest heaving, still. “I can. I will.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier pouts, frowning as he thinks, placing a light kiss on the inside of Geralt’s knee. “Looks like we’re at an impasse.” He shrugs, wicked glint returning to his eyes as he bends forward, the muscles at the back of Geralt’s leg straining a bit as his knee is pushed against his shoulder.

Jaskier brushes his lips against Geralt’s, smiling widely. “Oh well. At least I can still have some fun with you.”

Geralt gasps slightly as he feels the blunt head of Jaskier’s cock pressing against his rim, shudders as Jaskier softly takes his earlobe between his teeth for a split second.

His voice is suddenly soft, sincere. “If you want me to stop, say... say cactus. Alright, love?”

He nods, and he feels Jaskier smile against the soft spot under his ear, his tone regaining its familiar cockiness.

“You think three fingers was enough preparation, love?” He can practically hear the smirk in Jaskier’s voice. “Of course it was, silly me. I bet you’ve been eager to be fucked the moment I laid my hands on you, bet you wanted my cock in your arse the second you saw me.”

Geralt groans wordlessly, hips bucking slightly to search out friction.

“Tell me, love. Tell me how much you want to be fucked, how much you want me to come in you.”

He gasps as he feels Jaskier push in slightly, struggles against his bonds, desperate to be able to feel warm skin under his fingers, to be able to rake his nails down that perfect back. “Please.”

“Tell me, love.”

“Fuck- I need it, I need you so badly, please just fuck me, you little sh-”

He moans breathlessly, head tipping back in pleasure as Jaskier pushes in, bottoming out in one swift movement of his hips.

“Hmm,” Jaskier hums against his skin, laughing softly at the undignified whimper Geralt lets out as the young man shifts his hips a bit. “Desperate little slut for me, aren’t you, love? You feel so good, better than I ever imagined.”

He pulls out a bit, slamming back in, and Geralt whimpers at the pleasure that sparks up his spine, sets his skin on fire, as Jaskier’s cock hits his prostate, as the young man’s stomach brushes against his leaking prick, trapped between them.

Jaskier groans, slamming in and out of Geralt at an unrelenting pace. “Fuck- you feel so good, love, you’re so tight for me.”

Geralt moans wordlessly, as every snap of Jaskier’s hips hits him at just the right angle. He’s never done this before - never felt like this before: raw, open, exposed, filled, aching for more, the sparks of pleasure almost tangible on his skin as he’s fucked into the mattress.

“Please,” he begs, desperate for release. 

Jaskier gasps in his ear, the rhythm of his hips faltering a bit, growing sloppier as he climbs towards his own climax. “Their names, love.”

“Fuck-” He can’t do this anymore, can’t keep coming so tantalizingly close to orgasm, only to be let down over and over again. He can’t stop the blind desperation he feels for release, can’t stop himself from blurting out the names that have been clinging to his tongue ever since Jaskier first asked for them. “Fine! De Vries and Stregobor- fuck, just please, please let me come, goddammit-”

“Good boy.” He shudders at the praise Jaskier whispers into his ear. “Come for me, love.”

He cries out in pleasure as Jaskier’s hand wraps around his leaking prick, his hips snapping into Geralt’s one last time. He’s floating and falling at the same time, white-hot lightning bolts of pleasure shooting up his spine as his own come paints white stripes across his stomach. A distant part of his mind registers Jaskier groaning into his ear, feels warmth fill him as the younger man comes.

They lay there for a while in the aftershocks of their orgasm, chests heaving, skin slick with sweat and come, drying in the cool air. 

Finally, after a few minutes, Jaskier pulls out of him, Geralt groaning a bit at the overstimulation, at the unfamiliar feeling of come rushing out of him, onto the bed sheets. Jaskier sighs wistfully, pecking a small kiss to his lips, smiling down on him, before abruptly getting up.

Geralt frowns. “What-”

“Don’t worry, love,” Jaskier muses, as he picks Geralt’s shirt from the ground, wiping the come off himself, before wiping it off Geralt’s stomach, “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

He kisses Geralt one last time, before picking his clothes off the floor, pulling them on. 

“Jaskier, what are you doing?”

“No time to waste,” the younger man mutters, “after all, I have to get to them before they file the report.”

Realization dawns on Geralt, and ice-cold shock runs through his veins, quickly being replaced by panic and anger, as he tugs at the handcuffs still holding him in place. “Jaskier, I swear to god, don’t kill them-”

Jaskier sighs, then smiles, walking to the door, turning around at the last second. “Love, I have no choice. I’ll be back soon.”

He turns back around, closing the door behind him. 

***

Tag list babey! (if you want to be added, just send me a DM or an ask, or put it in the comments, whatever suits you): 

@just-a-himbo-and-his-feral-bard, @dandelionslute, @weakforjaskier, @the-blondey, @shipwrecked-nawtali, @bygodstillam, @rum-cream, @random-nerd-3, @allthethingshappening, @agentlewomanandascholar, @tschulijulesjulie, @noobtiedoo, @foddle-the-fiddler, @thenameislion-dandelion, @skai6, @thesmileyplant, @hysteria347, @pensandknittingneedles, @freak-fee-blog, @whenrainbowsend, @flustratedcas, @negatjazzy, @bridgehampton, @lookinforsomeabsinth

[cutie1365]

A Kid from Queens Part 14

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Info: CA: Civil War Era. Tony Stark enlists his daughter to find the web slinging spider in Queens.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: n/a

A/N: Hopefully another chapter coming soon, let's keep the quarantine going strong before online classes start.

Masterlist linked in my bio. Taglist in the reblog.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

To say you were keeping busy would be an understatement. If Linda wasn’t dragging you from photoshoot to photoshoot, you were in your lab in your apartment, dissecting the data you’d collected from Thomas’ servers.

The first thing you noticed was an incredible level of encryption. Seriously, the firewalls at their residence rivaled what you used at Stark Industries. That wasn’t a good sign, they were definitely hiding something.

It took you days to follow the money trail, finally finding their private account. They’d been careful, using bitcoin and other nearly untraceable cryptocurrency. Nearly untraceable, but you’d cracked the code. It looked like over the past few months the mayor has been funneling in larger and larger amounts, but you noticed a bimonthly withdrawal to the same anonymous source. It was the only movement of funds outside of the account, all other transactions had been moving money in. Your brain hurt from staring at your screen so long. You knew it would take a few more hours for Friday to track the transaction, and you were overdue for a break.

“F.R.I., trace these transactions, get me an IP address, see who it’s registered to and if we have files on them. I want to know what he’s buying.” You instructed, slipping your coat on, and heading out of your apartment.

“You got it boss.” The AI responded.

As you made your way into the park below to clear your head, you noticed a bodega at the entrance. Maybe coffee would be a good idea, you needed the energy, you could sense it was going to be a long night.

As you ordered, you glanced down to the magazines below, and came face to face with yourself. Your Vogue cover had come out, surely just as Linda wanted it. You knew it wasn’t worth it to waste mental energy on the fact that they’d edited the hell out of your face and body. You swore they had shrunk your waist two sizes.

“This you?” The owner asked in a thick Russian accent, pointing towards the magazine.

“Oh, yeah.” You smiled, humbly.

“You sign?” He asked, holding up a sharpie to you.

“Sure.” You took the pen from him, scribbling your name across the cover. This was odd. You were used to signing large checks for charity, sure, but never autographs.

“My daughter, she like you very much. She want to be engineer now.” He smiled proudly, handing you your coffee.

“That’s wonderful.” You smiled brightly, you never expected to be a role model, but if it was for anything you were happy to encourage young women into STEM fields. It was truly heartwarming. You thanked the man, and left him a large tip.

You strolled through the park, going through your mental checklist and schedule for the week. You were leaving in a few days to go to Boston, Linda had gotten you an invitation from MIT to judge their annual robotics competition.

As you journeyed back to your apartment and opened the door, you heard loud beeping coming from your lab.

Rushing around the corner, hundreds of pictures of black market weapons were flooding your desktop.

“What am I looking at here F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” You asked, pulling the display out into holograms to get a better look.

“Wire payments tracked to a man named Adrian Toomes. Uncertain what the payments were for, but several other black market transactions and evidence seems to point to these weapons being circulated.” She explained, enlarging the clearest photograph in front of me.

“Maybe the mayor was looking to dip into the business, wanted a chunk. Maybe he wanted the monopoly on the mafia accounts, expanding the business to the most powerful underground families in the city.” You guessed.

“Something’s not right,” You grabbed the rendered blueprint hologram of one of the weapons, enlarging it then spinning it, “Are these man made?”

You began to deconstruct the hologram, removing the outer metal layers, landing at its core power source, your eyes growing wide.

“Is that... a Chitauri energy core? How could they possibly have this much volume? Even if they hoarded some after the incident, it wouldn’t be enough to sustain the operation they seem to be running now. The only other stores this large are locked away in the Department of Damage Control, and I don’t know of any authorizations to remove them.” You thought out loud. They must have been stealing them, turning them into weapons and selling them on the black market. This is more than just a mafia turf war, this is terrorism. Shit.

You knew whatever the mayor had gotten wrapped up in was bad, but you never expected it to be this bad. You were way out of your depth here, you knew you couldn’t just sit on this information.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., is dad upstate?” You asked.

“Yes, his plane landed an hour ago.”

“Good, tell him to stay put, I’m on my way.”

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

An hour into your drive you were thanking god for the decision to get coffee earlier. Although your car could technically self-drive, you liked to be in control.

As you pulled into the compound, you saw your father waiting for you at the door. You pulled open the door to your car, making your way towards him.

“You’re gonna give your old man a heart attack if you keep showing up like this.” He raised a brow, curious to what you were up to.

“We both need a vacation.” You scoffed lightheartedly, pushing past him, and into the compound.

You led him into his office, you knew you needed a secure location to safeguard the information you were about to present to him.

“You gonna tell me what all this is about?” Your father took a seat, wearily.

“You’re not going to like this.” You nervously held your hands behind your back, unsure of where to begin.

“Do I ever?” He crossed his arms over his chest, he assumed this would be about Peter again, he never could have expected why you were really here.

“At the gala, as we were going in, a man tried to warn me, he said there was something I should know about the mayor. Thomas pulled me away before he could finish.” You began, your father shaking his head at the mention of Thomas.

“He knew what was going to happen?” Your father asked, sitting up straight in his chair, leaning towards you.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head. “But I never forgot what he said, I knew he knew more, and after what happened at the gala... I had to know. I knew it wasn’t a random attack. I tracked him down, he said the mayor’s in deep. Deeper than mafia, he thought maybe they were dealing some sort of weapons.”

“Why did he try and warn you?” He asked, you could tell his protective side was coming out.

“He thought they might try to target me to hurt them, hurt their image.” You tried to put as delicately as possible without outright saying they were using you, but your father understood, and it did nothing but fuel his anger.

“And you went back to this asshole because...?” He asked, patronizingly.

“Will you let me finish please.” You pleaded, and he sat back slightly, not understanding how this could get worse. “After the... article came out, I knew I could use him as an alibi, to shift the focus, discredit the story. We made an agreement. He needed to get back in his father’s good graces, and I was the key to that, and a boost in his polling numbers. It also gave me the opportunity I needed to look into the family, see if there was any credibility to the warning.”

“What did you find?” He raised a brow, it must have been bad enough to bring you here at this hour of night.

“Dad, It’s bad.” You shook your head, “F.R.I.D.A.Y.” You asked, and the AI displayed all the evidence you’d recently uncovered around the room for the two of you to examine. Tony stood and made his way around the room, taking it all in, in shock. And just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, once more, it wasn’t just illegal offshore accounts and weapons, you grabbed the hologram and deconstructed it just as you’d done in the lab.

“Is that...” Tony asked in shock, picking up the rendered core in his hands.

“Chitauri, I think they’re stealing them from Damage Control.” You nodded, Tony exhaled.

Part of him was relieved this meeting didn’t have to do with Peter, but this was much worse, and potentially extremely dangerous for you.

“What do I do?” You asked, shaking your head. This was new territory for you, you weren’t an Avenger, you weren’t the hero type.

“You take this to the FBI, this isn’t exactly Avenger territory. If they’re stealing from Damage Control, it’s federal property, their jurisdiction. They’ll know what to do.” Tony nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and placing a hand under his chin, still deep in thought.

“You did the right thing here kid. Next time, maybe give me some heads up if you decide to go hacking into people’s servers, criminal records, and the black market.” He smirked, he feigned an authoritative tone, but was really quite proud of what you’d done. He knew the potential you had, but was worried you’d be swayed and deceived by emotions, but he was wrong. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you weren’t doing it for revenge or personal gain, but for public safety and welfare.

“But where’s the fun in that?” You smirked, you really were your father’s daughter.

[facelessxchurch]

What we’re your thoughts about the book?

Some asks were answered already in this post already so I just smacked those asks in here at the part where I talk about the topic in question, which is why the answer may not 100% fit the question.

Massive “Seasons of War” spoilers below the cut:

First off, of all, this book read like GoT/any zombie movie ever. With the necromancers being like the white walkers, Vile is the night king and daugar are the wights. even with the necromancers crumbling away after Vile got killed Tell me I’m not the only one seeing that.

I think there was a lot of fanservice and some confirmed headcanons in the book, which I really liked. Saracen magic got revealed, there was a return to the Leibniz dimension, the Vile vs Vile fight so many wanted finally happened (tho that was kinda underwhelming) and the Dead Men returned which I’m sure made a lot of people happy. 

Ravel poisoning Saracen during the war and Vile being so powerful bc of being dead were two popular headcanons that got confirmed. And I am personally so happy that this book killed the ‘there is no sarcasm in the Leibniz dimension’ headcanon bc I bloody hated that.

Finally, Landy tries to please the old fans instead instead of what feels like purposefully pissing them off. I guess the phase 2 book sales weren’t that great so far (nice try blaming it on the pandemic, but no). 

I’m also glad that the romance in this book was kept to a minimum bc The Val/Militsa kiss in the beginning, yikes, fanfiction has better written kisses than that. And the the dialog for the lesbian love triangle (bc for some reason Ms.Wicked aka Laura’s self insert is Militsa’s ex??) was cringy and stiff as hell, it felt more like first graders trying to do a dramatic play and not natural at all.

Surprisingly enough Mevolent’s and Serafina’s relationship seems to be the most healthy and romantic in the entire series and I have no idea if that was on purpose or if Landy just has twisted views on relationships.

I however am actually kinda happy with how Mev was written. He was sympathetic and charismatic, tho some of the stuff he did doesn’t fit to they way he’s characterised when he’s on screen (I know he is probably lying 90% of the time he speaks, but still). Like, banning all languages apart from English doesn’t seem like something a man who cares about culture, literature and art would do. It also seems kinda stupid bc those languages will be forgotten eventually and if they need an old text translated no one will be able to do it. Also, why English? Isn’t Mev old enough that his first/original language should be Gaelic? So weird. I have the feeling this was mainly done so Valkyrie (and with that the audience) can understand what the people on the continent are saying bc I very much doubt she understands/speaks any languages apart from English. 

But I loved that Mev was also shown as insanely smart. He managed to outsmart Val multiple times. And I love how he doesn’t need his magic to fight, how quick and agil and skilled he is. So I take it that his fighting style is more based on agility and not getting hit, and he uses brute force only when forced into it (by Darquesse/the Unnamed). I was wondering about that bc his armor is made of leather and chainmail instead of metal plates which is considered light armor and not something a tank type of fighter would wear.

What really rubbed me the wrong way tho was when he was talking Tanith and Skul and more or less stated the war wasn’t a challenge anymore ever since Skul died. Or when he was talking to Val being like ‘you’re more powerful than I could ever hope to be’.It bothers me even more knowing that Val is based on girlfriend!Laura. Does really everyone and everything in-vers, even a big bad like Mev, rub Skul’s/Landy’s and Val’s/Laura’s ego? Big yikes.

Crespular Vies is surprisingly fun. At first I thought the two men going after the Obsidian Blade were hired by the Unnamed, but since that wasn’t the case, I think Crespular Vines hired them that so he could show up in time to save Omen and his friends. I think him opening up to Omen about being Skul’s former partner came too unprompted, too quickly and that he is trying to gain Omen’s trust so he can get close to Skul through him. I think another giveaway that that’s the case is bc one of the men Omen had to meet to get his brother back wore a Cleaver outfit and Vies gave that man probably the same reasoning Omen gave him.

That said Omen’s chapters were surprisingly enjoyable. By what I had heard of others I expected a sad sack that can’t fight worth a damn. 

I’m not found of the Temper/Kierre stuff, it came out of nowhere.

Val is overpowered AF, it seems that she can get on Darquesses level with more practise/learning how to keep the doors open. She certainly needs to be nerfed.

Also I skipped the Darquesse chapters bc I’m giving negative fucks about her and the plague doctor.

The last 10% of the book were too rushed and felt like half finished thoughts.

Also I was kinda really bothered by the citizen of the Leibniz dimension. They were cartoonishly racist and it was very pretty black and white for the most part AKA everybody good is in the Resistance and all other sorcerers are evil/corrupt. That is also shown by there being children in the Resistance camp while there was no mention of children in the mage cities. In reality, most people are fairly mellow and it’s just a small percentage that is either really good or really wicked. I would have liked to see more racism towards mortals in form of apathy or ‘the soft bigotry of low expectations’ like I’ve seen it from Serpine in DotL. You know, make it a little less black and white.

Also, I understand the mermaids, but the bats in Europe were random AF. Like, I would understand it if they were just in Romania/Transylvania as a nod to the Dracula-typ vampire legends originating from there. As a plot-device they weren’t really needed to keep the protagonists from flying bc the danger of getting spotted by necromancer by doing so should be enough of a threat to keep them on the ground. This might seem nit-picky of me, but the bats just seemed so bloody random to me like wtf????

And also bc I’m a slut for magical creatures, I would have really liked to see more of them than just daugar and giant bats. Some undead cut together and resurrected necromancer experiments would have been pretty cool tbh. Like whatever the hell this is.

Something like zombie bears would have also been acceptable, I mean, bears are fucking terrifying on their own, let alone when undead and decaying.

I’m kinda pissed at China that she wanted Skul to kill Nef, but it does seem in character. Of course I still don’t like it bc I headcanon as Nef, Eliza and China having been besties during the war (no matter what canon says, I’m keeping that headcanon). I’m surprised Skul didn’t let Wreath have Nef considering that. Then again, he thought Nef might still be useful. And he was right. I loved how Nef actually had an essential part in saving the world by throwing the bomb. So proud of my boi <3 But Skul refused to kill him even after that. Could it be that Skul is finally getting character growth and development? 👀

Aaaand, China’s continuing to be a tyrant. With Tanith’s sense of justices flaring up shown when he killed the city governor, Erato, and Nef being shown to go after people that betray him (Lorien) I think those two are being set up to go after China to kill her (and to probably kill Creed too). Imagine Eliza joining the team bc she want a piece of China too.

I feel sorry for Baron, but at least he got a few speaking lines this time around. Still, I really wanted Nef to save him. :C Like, he suffered so much before he died too considering he spend a year alone starving and thirsty with broken legs in the middle of nowhere wft, why is Baron getting fucked over like this? #BaronDeservedBetter2020 he is the only honorable person of all faceless followers and he’s the one that gets screwed over in every book he shows up in, why tho- 😭

Speaking of Nef, I absolutely loved him in this book, he was a delight and stealing the show whenever he was on the page, despite being used as  punching bag through pretty much the entire book. If people have always treated him that way I can see why he turned evil jfc that poor man. Despite that, he was still being such a clever, funny and relatable bae <3 He’s described as ‘cynical, and nasty but also kinda cheerful’ and as liking to ‘needle’ people (aka trolling and roasting) by Val and that essentially describes every shitposter on the internet ever. And I so loved the way he roasted Saracen lmao

And how he’s so clever, like the Lorien part was my favourite scene closely followed by how Nef essentially talked Remus Crux into getting himself killed, just 👌 smart snek boi, I love him <3 Also I hope he keeps poisoning everybody thoughts against Skul like how he had already been doing it to Tanith, he’s poison in human form and that’s just my jam.

That obedience bracelet was kinda fucked up tho.

Why does this thing even exist? Aren't electro shocks or any other form of pain enough instead of shutting his nervous system down/rendering him completely defenceless? I feel like some messed up mage 100% used it to keep himself (sex) slaves at some point in time :/ Landy might have gotten that idea from some fucked up hentai. Even the implications of the name "obedience bracelet".... I can’t be the only one that got creepy perv vibes from that thing, right?

Btw what the fuck happened to Harmony? You know, Leibniz Serpine’s girlfriend. She hasn’t been mentioned again. Did she die? She didn’t seem too found of him in DotL, was she plotting against him and he found out about it, killed her and fled the Resistance? Or did she die prior to him leaving and it was part of the reason he left bc she was the only thing that had tied him emotionally to the Resistance?? Or Landy just forgot  she existed. I would not be surprised.

Of course my biggest issue with this book was how he retconned Nef’s magic and how he took his trademark, his red hand, away, but more about that in a different post.

TL;DR: Nef was a delight even though he was done dirty. Mev’s scenes were a 50/50 split between good and bad. I actually liked the Crespulare and Omen chapters. The Unnamed was a disappointment. The last 10% of the book were to rushed and the final fights that were supposed to be the biggest were underwhelming. The rest is meh, didn’t really care tbh. Let’s be real here, I only bought this book bc Nef played a bigger role in it, anyways.

[sepiadice]

DiceJar Campaign 0.3: Holes, Doors, and Blood (2020/03/13)

Finally killed my first PC as a GM!

Yup… Wasn’t intentional but… well, dice made things interesting, so I have to work with it.

We also didn’t have our rogue, which is unfortunate as she’s an enjoyable member, and also there were a lot of traps and locks this time.

The content went through almost the remainder of what was prepared for the previous session. I’d like to get through the content a little faster so the group can move on to actual role-play opportunities, instead of dungeon crawling. It’s an unfortunate result of my experimental Game Mastering a Module, and I’ll likely try and stick to homebrew in the future.

Or, at least, look for modules with more emphasis on socializing.

I did a medium job preparing this session. I got complacent and let the session slip far to the back of my mind leading up. I found my sweet spot session 2, so I need to keep that standard.

Cast

Mogui (IndigoDie): Druid. Does what he’s told by his employer. Indigo has played this module before. Yot (LimeDie): Cleric. Looking to redeem himself for past failures. Lime will commit to bits. Bernard 'Bean' Dipp (NavyDie): Ranger. Trying his best despite being so young. Navy doodles when he’s bored. Delilah Dunford (VermilionDie): Rogue. Searching for an identity beyond her family. Vermilion could not make this session. Game Master (SepiaDie/me): The world (a dusty, dusty world). The walls probably have stories to tell. I’m desperately trying to keep ahead with drawing the map.

Session Three

We reopen in the loot room we ended in the last session. Navy is given his rewards and I expound on the uses of the various items they received.

Now given the opportunity to read his letter, Navy delays long enough to wonder if he’s chosen to make Bean illiterate, but eventually he takes to giving the description: his mother wrote it, opening with a joke, and giving random updates about life in town despite the letter needing to have been placed before the arrival of the party, but it’s an opportunity for the players to expound on their families, so maybe his mother is a little airheaded?

The letter canonizes a High School which has a football team and a glee club. Will anything come of it? Probably not. Did I say with a sigh ‘Guess that’s canon now…’? You bet I did! Always say yes! Improv!

The party headed back into the room with the pool, tested the other door to find it locked, and moved towards the wailing.

The chamber to the East of the entrance contained several walls crisscrossing. A door stood locked to the south. The puzzle of this room is walking around various hidden pit traps while finding three switches that must be held down at the same time to unlock the exit. I originally ruled the switches take a few minutes to reset so the party can run to get to the door, but then I remembered Delilah is technically still there, so I reverted it to operate as written.

Bean and Yot both took turns falling in holes as Mogui moved around cautiously and managed to jump clear of the one pit he did accidentally trigger.

The three maneuvered around the chamber until they found the necessary switches, activated them, and Delilah held open the door so they could get through.

Walking through the next hallway, they finally reached the door for the room from whence the wailing was emitting.

They all decide to ignore it.

Which means they’ve skipped some plot exposition. Oh well, keep rolling and adapt.

Instead, they go down a fork and into an empty room, which formerly held a giant beetle, but I cut that combat as being wholly unnecessary. Instead, our party continues through into the next chamber, which has a fight I did not cut, as I thought it would have narrative value.

A fire pit smolders in the center of the room, a charred corpse within. Upon the arrival of our party, a dark apparition arises and squares up to fight our heroes.

Bean had acquired an Oil of Magic Weapon, granting his bow Plus-One Status, and rendering it a magic attack, so he’s able to harm the shadow.

Yot, meanwhile, uses Holy Flame. Fun fact about our apparition: it was born because a pyrophobic man burned alive in a structure already pretty rife with necromantic energies. That terror and agony was all it took to create the shadow.

So the enemy is real mad at being set on fire, sending out psionic screams for flavor.

Mogui just watches the fight.

After a few rounds of Magic Bow and holy flames, the Shadow perishes. Victory music for everybody!

The party leaves the room, continues to ignore the terrified wails, and enters the last available door.

Within is a round, domed room, with a wooden pillar, standing on an outcrop over a pit at the center of the room, that fires blunted arrows. This is felt to be rather unpleasant, and the party discusses how to deal with it.

Eventually, they check out the door, and find a mechanism built into it.[1] The party attempts to break the mechanism.

Bean then enters, and is pelted by blunt arrows. He walks around and tries to open a southern exit, finding it to be locked, so Bean attempts to approach the trap. Unfortunately, he takes enough nonlethal damage to get knocked out. Whoops.

After waiting for the mechanical whirring to stop, the other two call after Bean, receiving no response. So they cautiously enter.

The trap is now docile. And the southern door is unlocked.

So, what happened here, by the text of the module, is that the trap keeps running for ten rounds, at which time it’ll be exhausted of arrows, and the south exit will automatically unlock. The hope was the party would take the tower shields from the wood golem of last session to block the arrows.

Because of how they broke the activating mechanism (as they snapped off the metal arm in the door hinge that turned the machine off and on), I decided that now once it turned on, it couldn’t turn off. So after Bean was knocked out, the trap kept running until it ran out of rounds.

Don’t ask how the trap’s supposed to keep pelting adventurers inside the chamber after the door closes. Magic I guess.

Stop asking how traps work.

Mogui investigated the south exit while Yot checked on Bean. The door was, of course, unlocked, to the annoyance of Navy, and Yot was taking his sweet time healing Bean, but soon the party was on their feet again and ready for whatever came next.

The final room of the floor widened as it went, the ceiling supported by four columns. Stairs to the south lead to the… basement? Second basement? The crypt’s already underground, so what terminology applies here, I’m not…

Also, there’s two statues in recesses of the south wall. The Module text doesn’t call any attention to them, but they’re probably Kassen.

Our heroes enter this room, get to approximately the middle of the room, and four skeletons, with talon-like clawed fingers and blood dripping from their bones, step out from behind the columns, and menace the heroes.

Combat begins.

As does a series of horrible rolls from both parties. Just a lot of do-nothing turns. Yot tries to bash the skeletons and misses, Bean fires arrows and the closest he got sent the arrow through the ribcage of one skeleton. The skeletons weren’t faring much better, three of them crit fumbling at some point, which I interpreted them as falling prone for a turn.

The rolls were so bad I gently reminded my party that I set up a dice-roll bot in the Discord channel, if they wanted to put Roll20’s die-roller into dice prison. They didn’t go for it.

Back and forth the combat went, the skeletons getting a couple lucky hits on Bean. Eventually, and tragically, those lucky hits added up and Bean hit zero. Navy started making Death Saves, a realm where the exhaustingly low rolls followed and brought him to his death.

NavyDie then spent the rest of the combat doodling an increasingly elaborate death scene, with grave stone, candles, what was either a pentagram or an alchemy circle,[2] and death himself. Whatever self-amusement was needed.

As a narrative-first GM, Player Characters dying in combat is not something I enjoy. I am now in an awkward position of needing to figure out how to proceed and keep Navy involved. If he still wishes to play, of course. A couple options immediately spring to mind: bringing in a new character will be narratively awkward at this point, as we need to justify why the ignorant town would send back up, or why a kid is running so late; there’s an available NPC I could give Navy, but he’d be an odd (but doable) add; or, and this is an idea I like most, I can bring Bean back for a price…[3]

But I need to talk it through with NavyDie first.

Back to those still alive.

Mogui maneuvers to keep a safe distance, eventually coaxing one of the four skeletons back to the previous room, running a circle and returning to the main combat room, closing the door behind him. I rolled a die to determine the nature of the skeletons, and concluded they’re running on animalistic instinct, and thus can’t operate a door.

Also, this cuts down on enemies to delay the fight and rewards IndigoDie for clever problem solving.

Yot, growing tired of not hitting with his Mace, starts using Holy Flame again, forcing the Skeletons to use the horrible dice rolls to avoid damage instead of Yot using the same rolls to cause damage. Progress starts to get made.

Mogui turns into a tiger and starts running about and attempting to hit the skeletons, but still no luck.

There’s also some talk about how the skeletons aren’t taking attacks of opportunity, which had a very elegant explanation: I totally forgot about that mechanic, and I also just plain hate attacks of opportunity. They feel cheap and punish players for not carefully considering every minutiae of their actions.[4]

Eventually, the skeletons are finally either redead, or trapped in another room.

With one dead, the remaining three party members stare towards the stairs to the next floor. As the only escape is to fight the skeleton in the previous room, they mostly consider what difficulty they’re prepared to face.

Of the three sessions played thus far, this one felt of middle quality. I forgot to read my opening crawl text, and I waited until the last minute to write notes for the remainder of the floor (after copying over the leftovers from session two). Neither the combat with the Shadow (where I forgot to implement the smoke in the eyes mechanic the module wanted me to) or the Bloody Skeletons (with horrible dice rolls)[5] felt particularly fun or worthwhile. I’ll probably look to cut more superfluous fights going forward.

I’m also looking forward to moving out of the dungeon. I am learning a lot, as was my goal with running this module, but I’m missing being able to Role-Play as GM.[6] I’m certainly learning to answer questions the text didn’t bother to address, and also how annoying module formatting can be with where it explains things.

When I find time, I should sit down and design a dungeon of my own. That would also be a good learning experience, and also let me feel more at ease with making world-based rulings on the fly and implement elements I like and minimize those I don’t.

There’s just so much combat and map-based traps written in this thing. Makes it too difficult to abstract out the traps and rely on theater of the mind.

Most important take away: Attacks of Opportunity are dumb, and I hereby houserule them away.

I’ve already set things in motion for fun plot developments after this session’s events and feedback received, and hopefully the next write-up will come in about two weeks.

Until next time, may your dice make things interesting.[8]

-

[1] The party is really interested in the actual mechanics of these traps, which the module doesn’t explain, forcing their poor GM to try and reverse engineer it, and maybe I need to start shrugging and saying ‘I dunno, magic I guess.’ [2] Which is a good way to lose a sibling. [3] Just sent Navy a text asking if he’d like a level of Warlock. This could be fun. [4] Also, my experience with another player exploiting the mechanic to attempt to kill me. [5] Though based on his recap, IndigoDie enjoyed the combat for the bad rolls? Interesting guy. It felt like a bad joke that kept repeating to me, and I failed to improvise an Out for those involved. [6] Especially since Indigo sidestepped the opportunity I did have![7] [7] Whatever. Gives me time to give the man a less stupid name. [8] Despite working it into the opening, this sign off still doesn’t sit right. Feels too long… Magazines have little icons to mark the end. Maybe I should do the same?

[doodlelolly0910]

Close Encounters of the Spiritual Kind

Summary: Emma Nolan spent a lot of time alone, and that was fine by her. Because one is never truly alone. She should know. She can talk to dead people. What she didn’t expect was one of these spiritual encounters to hang around, taking her down a rabbit hole of missing women, revenge, and, least expected, love. Can she save the day and Killian Jones? Is there even another choice?

Read it from the beginning on AO3 and FFN!

A/N: This is it guys! This is the very end. I still can't believe it's over. I hope you guys liked it and I couldn't possibly thank you enough for reading and all of your amazing comments. Thank you also to @kmomof4 who has been invaluable during the whole process of writing this and just being an amazing support in general. And super huge thanks to the ever wonderful @courtorderedcake who created the beautiful artwork for this story. She deserves all the love. And away we go!

Epilogue

One year later

Killian Jones sat on his bunk and stared at the wall. The drab beige paint was peeling off the smooth concrete in several places, and Killian's mind began to imagine shapes in it, like one would imagine shapes while watching clouds. It had become a pastime for him, though he couldn't recall when it had begun. For the last year, his life had been reduced to a six foot by eight foot box, shared with another man called “Tiny”, though he was anything but. He didn't know where his cellmate was now, and he didn't care, his mind singularly focused. The slate gray polyester jumpsuit he wore felt stiff against the skin it touched, the thin white t-shirt underneath doing little to prevent the rubbing. He thought briefly about stripping it to the waist, but it wouldn't be much longer now.

The TV in the common area was tuned to a local news station, some of the older inmates having commandeered it for their recreation time, as they sat at a single table directly across from his cell. He couldn't see it but he could hear it, not that he was paying any attention. He scanned over the small space with sharp focus, ensuring that anything he had of value was tucked safely into the small box in front of him. Not that he had much. Just a few books, a couple of drawings and letters he'd received, a few plain, white shirts, nothing huge. The rest of them could fight over the remaining items he would leave behind for all he cared.

“And in other news out of Boston this morning, 62 year old Weaver Gold was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole after a long and arduous trial,” the reporter on the TV proclaimed, causing Killian's ears to prick up. He turned his head slightly so he could better hear, but remained seated on the bunk. “Gold was charged with several counts of assault, kidnapping, murder, and human trafficking, among other violations. This story broke last year when former BPD Detective Emma Nolan headed an undercover investigation into the head of one of Boston's most dangerous criminal empires. More on this story at 11. Let's go to Jackie with sports. Jackie?”

Killian smirked. It was the least the bastard deserved after all the irreparable damage he'd done to countless lives. He looked around his cell, the cramped space, exposed toilet, bars lining the only exit, and for the first time, the sight made him smile. He couldn't think of a more fitting cage for a crocodile.

The year since Killian had been sentenced for “racketeering” (in reality, the cash laundering scheme he had used to keep his operation afloat was the only thing they could connect back to him) was served uneventfully, for which he was grateful. He kept his head down and stayed mostly to himself, making sure that nothing would delay his release. He had made a promise to go on the straight and narrow and he didn't intend to break it. The police were more than lenient with him considering his own criminal operation.

As part of a plea deal including delivering testimony on Gold, he had received thirty six months in a minimum security federal penitentiary, and Will had received thirty himself.  Jefferson had stayed true to his word and helped them get the best deal possible but with the way everything had gone south, prison time became inevitable. Will had been released after eight months with good behavior to serve out the rest of his sentence on parole, as far as he had heard. He was glad for it. Killian had just had a parole hearing of his own, but he wasn't expecting any such miracles.

Until about an hour ago when a guard had stopped by his cell and told him his parole had been approved. And now he waited. His head was filled with images of his last day of freedom. It had been one of the worst of his life. He had killed a man. Watched other men (and a woman) die. He'd been beaten, broken, tortured for hours. But the thing that stuck out to him the most was Emma's pale and lifeless form in his arms.

It had been Milah all over again. Maybe worse, for he couldn't recall a time his soul had physically ached until that moment, like it had known immediately that it was missing its other half. She'd saved him, not only from the bullet, but from himself. He hadn't expected to ever walk away from the dark criminal underbelly alive. But here he was. Maybe he was a survivor after all. He didn't intend to squander a single second Emma had given back to him.

“Jones,” a sharp, commanding voice barked from just behind the bars of his cell. He looked up to see two uniformed guards waiting for him, an older seasoned guard called Spinelli, whom he knew, and a rookie officer that had just started last week. Howard, he thought he recalled. “Cuff up. Time to go.” Killian stood and obediently slid his hand and stump through the slat in the bars, smirking at the look of exasperation on Spinelli's face.

“Problem?” he asked cheekily, his eyebrow quirking up his forehead, and the rookie had to stifle a chuckle in a less than convincing cough, earning him a glare from the older guard and a grin from Killian.

“Be right back,” Spinelli muttered and stomped off towards the pod exit, leaving the rookie and Killian observing one another in silence.

“So…” Killian extended the conversation to the young officer, leaning up against the bars.

“No talking, inmate,” he replied, underconfident authority in his voice.

“Come, now. Who doesn't bend the rules every now and again?” Killian grinned, his tongue nudging his canine tooth mirthfully.

“Is that how you ended up here? All the fun of bending the rules?”

“Touché, Howard,” Killian agreed.

“It's Hendricks.”

“My mistake, lad. Didn't see a nametag,” he said. The younger man flushed scarlet.

“I forgot it this morning,” he admitted.

“Ah. Bit of a rule bender yourself then, aye?” Killian said with a wink and Hendricks bristled. “Don't worry, I won't tell. You'll do alright here, lad. Don't let these bastards get in your head and you'll do just fine.”

“No talking, inmate. Back away from the bars,” snapped Spinelli, who had huffed his way back in front of his cell as Killian finished speaking. Killian rolled his eyes and backed himself towards the bunk again. “Open!” he called out to the command center. A loud buzz rang out and the bars clicked, Spinelli reaching out to hold them shut for the time being.

“Palms, er, forearms flat on the wall, inmate,” Hendricks commanded. Killian complied. This was the very last time he had to do this. Never again. He'd promised her.

After a moment, the bars slid open and Killian was being fitted with what was called “the sleeve”, a mesh wrap with metal buckles in the back that wrapped around his body and secured his stunted arm to his torso, rendering it immobile. He was dressed with a chain around the waist next, a handcuff around his good wrist and the other end secured to the chain. The chain connected to another that hung between his feet where ankle shackles were added and connected as well. Spinelli stepped back, giving him a once over with a nod and a grunt, satisfied with his level of restraint.

“There we are, all nice and subdued and ready to leave prison,” Killian quipped. A thrill shot through him as soon as the words “leave prison” had left his lips. The rookie suppressed another chuckle.

“Just walk, Jones,” Spinelli grumbled, seizing him by the arm and leading him from the cell. Hendricks followed with his box of personal effects.

As they walked down the corridors, men yelling, cheering and jeering at him, he couldn't help but feel… excited.

When he got here, he was fresh out of spending the first three months of his sentence in the hospital getting physical therapy on his shoulder, two weeks of which was spent with his fractured jaw wired shut. He’d been arrested before, but prison was an entirely different beast altogether. And yet it was nothing at all, compared to what he'd gone through with Weaver Gold.

The day he had shown up at the docks, he had been so sure it was the right move. He had gone to Smee's with Emma and obtained a gun that couldn't be traced back to either of them. The plan was to slip in and kill the man, consequences be damned for the rest. He never expected to make it out alive. He had been so close to making it happen when he made one wrong turn and ran smack into Malcolm and Perdu.

He had fought a hell of a fight against them, but the two men eventually overpowered him when Malcolm wrenched his shoulder from its socket. Once again, he had underestimated Gold's influence, by extension to his henchman. It was when he was presented to the man himself like a wrapped gift that he realized just how far he had actually underestimated him.

Gold had wasted no time in his fervor to make Killian suffer. He nearly rejoiced in it. As soon as he was sunk to his knees, Gold smiled, offering a quick ‘Hello, Jones’ and cracking him across the face with the gold handle of his cane. Hence the fractured jaw. The older man was stronger than his looks portrayed. From there on out, it was a series of blows with the cane and taunts with a gun, his gun usually. He wasn't sure how long it had gone on for.

Then Will was led through the door and his stomach twisted. If Will was there, Emma was no longer safe. He had held on to that last mangled little piece of hope that she was still locked up where he left her, even as Will took a similar beating to the one he had. Right up until Emma marched out from behind those crates and everything went to hell.

He clenched his jaw at the memory as the door buzzed to let him in to the discharge area. Spinelli left his side, taking the box and setting it on a dented metal table next to them, but Hendricks remained, and he opened a locker to retrieve a standard set of street clothes for Killian. Jeans, a gray sweatshirt, and a set of laceless athletic shoes were set on the metal table beside the box as Hendricks worked on getting him unbound.

“Strip,” Spinelli instructed as soon as he was free of his chains and the sleeve. Killian had never moved faster to take off his clothes in front of two men in his life. Hendricks set about gathering his discarded jumpsuit and underthings, shaking them out and inspecting them as Spinelli stepped back towards Killian, who stood, hand clasped over his stump before him, naked as the day he was born.

“Arms out, mouth open,” Spinelli ordered. Killian did so, reminding himself for the hundredth time this was the last time he would ever have to do this. Spinelli searched his mouth with a tongue depressor, eyes scanning over every inch of his body to make sure he didn't have anything hidden. As if anyone would sneak something out of prison, but he was sure stranger things had happened. “Squat and cough,” he instructed next. Killian set his jaw and did that, too. Spinelli nodded. “Get dressed.”

Killian did so and Hendricks walked around him, putting things away. Once he was dressed, he picked up the box with his meager belongings and waited. Spinelli scanned his ID card and the metal door opposite to the one they had entered through buzzed and opened with a loud clank. They reached another door at the end of a short hallway. When Spinelli opened it, daylight flooded in from beyond the floor to ceiling windows that lined the room.

People milled about on the other side of the glass, waiting for a visit or for someone to answer their questions. The door at the end of the glass lined hallway led directly outside. He walked between Hendricks and Spinelli and they waited for clearance at the end of the hall before he stepped out the door into the yard. The two guards escorted him to the fenceline and opened the gate.

“Well, gentlemen, I'd say it was a pleasure, but frankly, I hope I never see either of you again,” he said, only half joking. Hendricks did chuckle at that and even Spinelli offered him a begrudging smile.

“Best of luck, Jones,” the older guard said and Killian nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes already set forward and searching for his future.

Killian Jones took his first free steps in over a year out the front gate, simply taking a moment to breathe it all in.

The rumble of a familiar engine had his head turning in a second, just in time to see a small, yellow Volkswagen Bug pulling up to the curb. Sunshine colored hair and a flushed face popped out of the driver's side door and Killian couldn't have held back his grin if he’d tried.

Emma's brilliant green eyes set on him and she smiled.

“Somebody order a getaway car?” she asked, walking around the front of the car towards him. Killian didn't care who was watching. He dropped the box of things that didn't matter to the pavement and rushed forward to the only thing that did, scooping her up in his arms and sealing lips over hers in a kiss that took both of their breath away.

His arms looped around her waist and he lifted her, her head falling back and laughing as her hands found purchase on his shoulders. He spun them around, resting his forehead against hers, refusing to let her go, not that she was even trying to escape.

“Hi,” she murmured, reaching up to cup his cheek, her thumb stroking over his less than immaculately groomed beard.

“Hi,” he replied, nuzzling into her touch, still a little disbelieving that she was here, alive, in his arms.

Emma had coded twice in the ambulance once medics were able to get to her and three more times in surgery to repair the damage in her abdomen. The last time had been the closest call. The doctor had been ready to call time of death, but Emma's heart inexplicably started beating again all on its own. No one could explain it. They had called it a miracle.

It had been a long road to recovery for her as well, but if nothing else, Emma Nolan was a fighter. She had completed grueling amounts of physical therapy and mental health evaluations, but she had never wasted a single second with Killian. Phone calls, letters, visits every weekend (with accompanying one hour drive both ways), Emma never complained, and Killian wouldn't be where he was without her. In every way possible.

Emma was released from the police force shortly after the incident, before she had even come home from the hospital. They had cited “medical reasons”, for which her resumé was grateful, but she had broken so much procedure it wasn't like she hadn't seen it coming. The women she saved had been worth it. Will was worth it. Killian was worth it. She and Will had set out to found a nonprofit for missing people, a sizeable donation from one Ivy Belfrey getting them off the ground, and she was happier now than she had ever been.

“You can't park there!” a voice shouted at them and they both turned from their embrace to see a stern looking woman in uniform on a golf cart motioning to her car. Emma waved at her in understanding as Killian set her back on her feet.

“Ready to get out of here?” she asked.

“Aye, my love,” he replied with a grin and another quick kiss.

“It's just you and me now.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way, agrà.”

The two got in the car and drove away, the scent of sea salt and jasmine following them on the breeze.

And when she brought him home to meet Ruby, the force of nature that was her best friend may or may not have actually passed out seeing the man from Emma's sketchbook come to life. But that was a discussion for another day.

[myhappyendings32]

Be Still My Past

AN: Hey everyone @unitchiefwives and I want to apologize for the delay in the update life happened, but we are back. We hope you enjoy…

Chapter 4:

Callie’s POV

Life. It’s a funny thing, one minute you’re the happiest you can be and the next minute you have sunk down to the lowest depths of turmoil. Honestly, if it wouldn’t have been for my sister Aria, life in general wouldn’t have been an option. Being there for me every step of the way led me to med school and eventually to being a surgeon. I am now a world renowned Pediatric Surgeon. Considering I am the oldest of the family, it still leaves me astonished to how I was the one being taken care of and protected.

One of the promises I made to myself and my sister was to always support and be there for her while she is following her dream. My sisters dream was to become an Assistant District Attorney (and damn she is one hell of an ADA.)  Which brings me to why I’m in the New York County Supreme Courthouse. Supporting and being there for my sister also means attending as many cases as possible. I loved watching my sister perform, she has a 96% accuracy rate to winning too her 4% rate of losing. She’s become somewhat of a legend around New York.

Today, though I am here on business. I have to testify in court for something so sad. This guys was doing things and...it’s so awful. This is always the downfall to being a peds surgeon, the part where things go wrong for some of them and I don’t mean medically.

This part always messes with me, the testifying part. The fact that I even have to do it is messed up. It bothers me how people in this world can be so cruel.

It wasn’t time for me to go just yet, I had about an hour before I had to meet Aria. I was ready for everything, all I had left to do was get my sister coffee. You’d think she’d be the one giving me the coffee since she’s so used to all of this. It’s fine though, she needs her fuel to win this case, if not for me then for the victim.

The hospital has a total of 13 different coffee carts and all of them have their own unique taste, this place… has one cart and it’s a take it or leave it situation. You either take it and count your blessings or you leave it and don’t look back. Since my shift ended less than 5 hours prior, I would say that taking the coffee is a no brainer.

Strolling up to said cart, I notice that it only has 3 types of Coffee. ‘Really that’s all they are going to supply me? This is just cruel.’ “I guess I will have a regular coffee with creamer and sugar.”

“Ma’am I’m sorry but we don’t have creamer. We do have sugar though.” The lady says, while pointing to the bowl that cradles the sugar.

You know there have been wars over coffee, because they don’t have the right flavor or it’s not made to there standards and here I am grasping to what I can find to flavor the caffeinated beverage that I adore. “Um… sugar will do I suppose.” This is not my day. I left the coffee cart assuming that this day would not be on the best or even average day.

As I was walking away, I totally forgot about Aria’s coffee so I ran back before anyone else could get in line, “Sorry, I totally forgot to order a latte for my sister.”

The lady at the cart looked a little annoyed, “Sure, what’s the name?”

“Aria.”

The barista looked shocked, “Do you mean the ADA Aria?”

I looked at her confused, “Yes?”

She opened the register and had her coworker in the back make Aria’s drink. She looked at me, “Here is the change back for your coffee, and you and your sister’s is on the house. We lover her!”

I took the change, “Umm...thanks?”

Pretty quickly she handed me the latte and I was off to court. Fun, fun, fun. I was not ready for this, and no matter how many times I tried to trick myself into thinking I was...I wasn’t. It wasn’t before too long, when I got there. I went through the normal security check and metal detector walk through, and eventually found my sister waiting in the hallway outside of the courtroom.

“Here A.” I handed her the free latte and sat on the bench next to her because my feet were killing me from these heels. I mean I have a right to feel this way, I’m used to wearing surgeon shoes which are comfy and soft, not hard and arched weird.My sister is the one that wears the stilettos and the business woman suit. So it’s no surprise that she’s pacing back and forth while rehearsing what she’s going to say and hasn’t flinched a bit from the heels.

She finally stopped pacing and and sat next to me, giving me a hug. “Hey Nerd Brain, how are you?” she said with a huge smile on her face.

“Hey, we do not use that awful nickname in public.” I said laughing. I paused for a second before continuing, “As for how I’m doing, I’m a complete mess. This kind of thing should never happen. Plus these shoes are killing me A.”

She gave me her concerned look, “You’re right, this shouldn’t be happening. The sad thing is that the world isn’t always beautiful, which I know you know as well.” She was right and we all had to keep moving forward. I looked down at the floor, “Yeah, but it still sucks!”

Nodding her head in agreement Aria grasps my hand. “I know this is difficult on you, especially since… well… you know.” She’s right, I did know what she was talking about, but talking about something so odious was not going to happen not today, not ever. I must of had a look of fear and uncertainty in my eyes, because the next thing I know she is engulfing me into a sheltered hug. “Hey, hey, hey you don’t have to talk about it. I was just suggesting that if you need to talk I’m here. That’s all hermana.” My lips start to curve into a smile. I love it when she calls me that.

“Thank you Aria, but if I am going to make it through this case, I have to be strong. I am here for little Jami, she is the one that has suffered and if I am not on my “A” game this creep could walk out free and all be damned if I am going to let that happen.” I extract my hand away from my sisters and rub them up and down my pant clad legs. “So… what about you? Are you ready?” Shaking my head at my own stupidity. ‘What am I thinking of course she is ready. She was made to be an ADA.’ “Of course your ready that was crass on my part and I am sorry.”

She chuckles at my antics and shakes her own head. She knows that she is good she doesn’t need me nor anybody else to tell her. “Callie, you need to breathe and just relax. Matthew is going to be put away no matter what either of us say. Be truthful, and from the looks at the documents that you have in your hand you have everything. Am I right?” receiving a slight nod in conformation she continues; “Than you will be fine.”

She got up and headed into the courtroom to set up. I didn’t need to be in there just yet so I sat there very still, trying to compose myself so that I wouldn’t turn into a crying mess when I walked in there. I had memorized the document in my hands and started reciting it over and over to make sure I had it locked in.

I took a big gulp and finally got the courage to head in there. It was about to start in five minutes and I didn’t want to be late. I walked up to the big and wide wooden double doors, each with a golden handle, and opened them to walk in. On the right I saw Aria sitting next to the victim and their family, explaining to them the steps and what exactly was going to happen. On the other side I saw the most evil and wretched person in my life. How does one simply hurt another person, yet alone a child. It hurts deep inside whenever I see a child who got hurt in this way, children have such a pure view on this world and if it gets ruined so quickly then their sense of a childhood vanishes.

I walked down the center aisle to the front of the seats and sat behind the victim and my sister. When I sat down, Aria looked back at me with a reassuring smile and then turned her attention back to the child and his family. I’m not much of a religious person now, but I still believe there’s a God out there because that’s how I grew up and if other parts have changed on my belief one that, the one thing that hasn’t is the fact that I pray.

Right before court started, I sat there silent in my seat and nonchalantly closed my eyes, and prayed to God that this evil man wouldn’t see the light of day so that not only that child could be free, but also for any other children that may be his future victims. When I finished my silent prayer, the judge walked in and everything started.

“All rise! The Court of the second Judicial Circuit, Criminal Division is now in session, the honorable Judge Morgan presiding.” The bailiff announces, as Judge Morgan goes to take the stand.

The Judge nods to the bailiff dressed in a police uniform and looks at us. “Everyone may be seated except for the Jury.” We all take our respectable seats. He then looks at the bailiff and says; “Ms. Olson, can you please swear in the Jury.”

The bailiff known as Ms. Olson nods a yes and turns toward the Jury. She puts her right hand up and states; “Please raise your right hand.” The jury all raise their right hand and waits for the brunette woman to continue. “Do you Solemnly swear or affirm that you will truly listen to this case and render a true verdict and a fair sentence as to this defendant?” She looks at the scumbag and gestures to him. The jury all say “I do” She then tells everyone who are still standing too be seated.

Judge Morgan looks at us with a serious look and states; “Members of the jury, your duty today will be to determine whether the defendant is guilty or not guilty based only on facts and evidence provided in this case. The prosecution has the burden of proving the guilt of the defendant beyond a reasonable doubt.  This burden remains on the prosecution through the trial. The prosecution must prove that a crime was committed and that the defendant is the person who committed the crime. However, if you are not satisfied of the defendant’s guilt to that extent, then reasonable doubt exists and the defendant must be found not guilty.” He gazes up the bailiff and then inquires; “Ms. Olson, what is today’s case?”

Ms. Olsen discloses; “Your honor, todays case is the state of “New York versus Matthew Johnson.”

“Is the prosecution ready?” Judge Morgan asks.

Johnson’s attorney stood up, “We’re ready your honor.”

Judge Morgan slammed the gavel down, “The trial is now in session.”

This was all suddenly becoming real, and if it was real then that means that I have to physically go up and somehow testify pretty soon. By this time I was mentally and emotionally ready, but I knew that when I got up there that I couldn’t look that kid in the eyes because I would break right then and there in the middle of everyone. That was definitely not on my to-do list for the day.

As I was sitting there, they went through the whole process of interviewing them victim and the suspect, asking questions, hearing stories, and one side trying to prove to the jury that Johnson was not guilty and the other trying to prove that he was. I knew he was guilty, I could see it in his lifeless eyes. I could tell they were lifeless too because I’ve seen a few in my line of work and his pale pretty close in comparison which is pretty scary.

They were finishing up with the interviews and started heading into the testimonies. These were rough because you could clearly tell when someone was lying and it was so hard to watch. I didn’t know exactly when I would be called but I was ready for whenever it was. I got my medical file out and made sure everything was in order for when I was called.

They’d been through about three suspects already and Aria called up the fourth one, “I’d like to bring Supervisory Special Agent Arizona Robbins of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI to the stand to testify.”

The word agent caught my attention and I looked up to see a beautiful blonde with bright ocean blue eyes, walking up to the stand to speak. She wore a black pantsuit with a white button up blouse underneath and a pair of black boots. Some of my friends and I always wondered if all women FBI agents wear black boots or if it's just a myth, I hope i get to find out.

When she was up there, all I heard was her first sentence and then I got even more attracted to her. Her voice wasn’t what you would expect from an FBI agent. It was soft and sweet like candy canes and and gumdrops during the Christmas season. Most agents you would expect to be harsh and cold, but there was a certain light to her that made me feel safe.

Funny huh, I don’t even know her and she makes me feel like no one could ever hurt me. What is this feeling? Whatever it is, I have to talk to her somehow. Then again, me plus talking to strangers it like doesn’t really pan out well in this kind of situation. Maybe if I’d met her in a bar and we’d smiled at each other from across the bar then i’d have more confidence, but this was in a courtroom and and she was the most beautiful one in there who might I add, while having a sweet approachable side, also had a dark side I was a little bit weary of.

My thoughts left me once she left the stand to sit back down. It probably would of helped to hear what she said in terms of knowing about the case, but how could anyone think straight when she was around? I tried not to seem like a stalker but I followed to see where she sat. So I could possibly make a point to “accidentally” run into her if I had the time, but who knows.

After Supervisory Special Agent Arizona Robbins left the stands and the others took the stands I have to admit I really missed her being up there and gazing into her beautiful azure eyes. Rolling my eyes at my own pathetic thinking, I shake my thoughts away. It’s a good thing that Aria can’t see me from behind, she would for sure give me hell for it.

The session lasts for another 30 minutes and all the while I am looking between the person that is speaking at the altar and Arizona. What is this spell she has over me? The more I try to look away the harder it is too do just that.

“The court is now going to call a 30-minute recess. We will then return back at 10:20.” Judge Morgan declares. He then stands up and walks out of the back door.

Aria tells the Schmidt family to go ahead and get some fresh air. She then turns around with expressed brown eyes; “How’d I do up there? I mean I know this case is in the bag, but I still have a reputation to uphold.”

That’s when it got delicate, all I could say was a meager “You did great.” If only I could comprehend courtroom jargon, and it doesn’t help that most of the time my gaze was at the delicious blonde that has stolen my mind. Watching her made my stomach all fluttery, like hundreds of butterflies flying performing an air show, fluttery. No one in my whole being has made me feel that way.

“I forgot to ask you earlier how did work go? How many bad ass surgeries did you rock?” Being a Pediatric Surgeon I surprisingly have a lot of cases and they run sporadically throughout the day. The vilest is when I am on call, (especially when I am on call for 2 days in a row and its tied in with my scheduled day to work) which is why I have just come off a 36-hr, shift. But I love my job and I love my patients. Noticing the now glazed over look I have, she starts beckoning by waving her hand in front of my face. “Hello! Cal?” Deciding to take it one step farther by pinching me.

“OUCH ARR-IA, WHAT THE HELL?” rubbing the superior part of my arm to subside the pain, I inhale and then exhale a few times to calm myself down. “Sorry, uh, what were you saying?”

Concern evident in her eyes she puts her hand on my shoulder and inquires; “I was asking you about your job and how many kick ass surgeries you rocked?” Thinking something is troubling me she maneuvers her hand from my shoulder to my back and rubs up and down to soothe me. “Where did you go? Are you ok? I know that the case probably brought up a lot of grievous memories…” She trails off remembering my request earlier.

Not wanting to divulge in why I spaced to divulge in why I spaced out I give her a “yes, I’m fine. Just… tired I guess.” Because if I was being honest, I would have to convey that I missed most of the case and where my mind was just a second ago was on a certain B.A. So, I decided to change the subject and speak; “Hey, I am going to go and get some coffee from the coffee cart out out there, do you want anything?” Shaking her head, no and looking at me with that oh so familiar Torres glare, I smile and proceed out the courtroom. Once I open the doors to my surprise my eyes land on the woman that has been clouding the better part of my mind since I laid eyes on her.

 AN2: Too clarify Guest (Max) Reviewer we are far from done with this story and as far as getting to what happened to Callie well we assure you that it will come. Please everyone be patient. Thank You

 Thank You to all of you for your reviews, follows and favorites

[xfdeath]

b i o t i c a l

     “Only two guards?” Abraham lowers the binoculars from his face, frowning. “Maybe one of them’s taking a shit?”      Ichabod’s eye twitches slightly as he double checks the mission brief on his omni-tool.       “They never told us how many to expect,” he says, “but knowing Batarians...”      “One of them’s probably taking a shit,” Abraham repeats. “We should move in.”      “Absolutely not!” Ichabod snaps, eyes narrowing. “Not yet, unless you want to cause an intergalactic incident....again.” Abraham’s eyes flash.       “All right, first of all,” he hisses, holding up a finger, “that got scrubbed! Second of all, he started it!”      “Why were you taking leave on Omega while still an active member of the Alliance Military in the first place?” Ichabod questions.       “Aria’s got a nice ass, sue me,” Abraham answers, raising the binoculars again.       “Says the gay man,” Ichabod mumbles.       “Asari are monogendered, doesn’t count,” Abraham counters. Ichabod rolls his eyes.       “I’m sorry, I forgot the whole point of this mission was to discuss semantics,” he says.       “No, the whole point of the mission is to see what the dirty bastards are hiding and get it back to the Alliance-”      “-without causing an intergalactic incident,” Ichabod interrupts. “They’ve been too quiet, I don’t like it. We wait.” He can hear the sound of Abraham’s annoyed snort, and makes a point to feign interest in his omni-tool.      “We have been here...for six hours,” Abraham says.       “Yes,” Ichabod agrees, “and we will be here six hours more if that is what it takes to achieve the right timing for optimum stealth and information gathering. Which is precisely why I was assigned lead on this, or do you know a different infiltrator better than me that isn’t a known criminal?”         “Criminals are more fun.” Abraham says flatly, tossing the binoculars aside and pushing himself to a kneeling position. A breeze kicks up, whipping the edges of his coat. “And I’m done waiting.” 

     Before Ichabod can react, Abraham leaps. The resounding boom of his biotic enhanced landing on the canyon floor below echoes for a good half mile, effectively rendering their stealth mission moot.       “Abra-- god damn it,” Ichabod hisses, scanning the area and plotting the best course down the rocky cliff face. By the time he hits the bottom, Abraham has turned the initial two guards into nothing but pulpy messes, the bodies held together only by the armor they’re wearing. He lets out an audible sigh when he finds his friend and comrade looting the corpses. “Really?”       “What?” Abraham asks, standing and slipping a credit chit into his pocket. “I can’t very well spend Alliance funding at Omega, now can I?” His shit-eating grin does nothing to make up for his behavior.       “Let me at least see if I can open the door,” Ichabod says. Abraham holds out an arm, and then jerks him into cover behind a support strut.       “Don’t bother,” he says. “They’re going to be good little Batarians and open it for us.”       As if on cue, the door to the pirate base opens, with half a dozen armed guards pouring through. Before anything can be said, Abraham leaps from cover, a glowing fist sending a schockwave rolling through the soil. It slams four of the batarians through the door they just exited, leaving a sparking and hissing hole in the metal wall. He’s grinning, and focusing so much on one of the stragglers, he doesn’t notice the heavy weapon being primed.       Ichabod, on the other hand, does. Although he considers, briefly, letting Abraham get hit just to see how his shields and barriers hold up in the hopes of teaching him a lesson, he has the Batarian heavy disarmed with a stun grenade before anything can be fired.       “Hey Ichabod,” Abraham says, pulling a bloody fist from the chest of the Batarian he’d hyper-focused on, “you know another way to avoid intergalactic incidents?”       Ichabod sighs. “Do I want to?” he asks, attempting to scan the inside of the building. So far, the schematics match the mission brief.       “Don’t leave any witnesses.” Ichabod looks up just as Abraham presses a glowing armored boot to the neck of the stunned Batarian. He grinds his foot with enough force to implode the armor and nearly behead the alien. Flashing a grin, the blue hue from his biotics lighting up his eyes gives it a sinister look that causes Ichabod to look away.       He enjoys this too much, he muses, taking point and stepping over his friend’s carnage and into the base. An internal alarm is blaring, and there’s countless red dots moving in on his motion tracker.       “This is a bloody mess,” he says. Abraham shrugs, reaching for the modified Avenger on his back.       “They’re pirates,” he says. 

     And so the rest of the mission goes. Abraham interferes before Ichabod gets the chance, leaving nothing but destruction and mutilated bodies in his wake, while Ichabod covers his ass from all the things he misses. He manages to miss two different security turret stations, and takes a through-and-through to his shoulder before Ichabod gets them disabled.       Really, the only good thing Ichabod can say about Abraham’s fighting is that the Batarians hardly seem to notice the infiltrator, leaving him time enough to almost leisurely go through their systems and files. When his scanner pings the data they came for, he motions for Abraham to fall back and prep for evac.       Of course, it’s another ten minutes before he does, making sure to stay true to his word about no survivors. They watch from the windows of their pick-up shuttle as the pirate base explodes into nothing, and Ichabod glares at him.       “And how am I supposed to explain that in my report?” he asks. Abraham shrugs, leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes.       “They were getting overwhelmed and tried to take us out along with their own base, case closed,” he says matter-of-factly.       Ichabod says nothing as he pinches the bridge of his nose and and wishes the shuttle would go faster. There’s a headache creeping up the back of his neck he’d very much like to deal with before anything else. 

[mdwatchestv]

Game of Thrones 7x01: Shall We Begin?

Yooooo it's Thrones time baby! I know a ton of people are going to write about this season and I originally wasn't going to, but then I wasn't writing about anything else and the gaping pit of self doubt and shame that lives just beneath the surface of all my thoughts was beginning to open up again so I thought fuck it I'll write about it because you only live once. Unless you're Jon Snow.

Game of Thrones is one of the only shows I continue to watch live, and there is truly no greater television joy than hearing that theme song swell. Game of Thrones has led the vanguard of must see TV for the past six years and facing a world without it is a dark prospect indeed. But winter is here friends, and we are facing a cold eternal darkness without Westeros. So let us return, together, for the second to the last time, to our favorite blood-spurting, boob-baring, dragon-wrangling, power-plotting, Stark-slaughtering show. 

Shall we begin? 

Season seven begins with a cold open, and it is the COLDEST of opens. Mysteriously we are back with Walder Frey (as unwelcome as he may be, a scenery chewing performance from David Bradley is always extremely welcome) who we witnessed Arya kill in the most delicious way possible at the end of season six. The clearly still living Walder has gathered his miserable brood in celebration, even treating them to fancy wine. However his speech of celebration becomes increasingly pointed, accusing the gathered of celebrating the death of an unborn child as well as a hardworking mother of five. That's because twist- Walder is really Arya Motherfucking Stark and she has come to MURDER EVERYONE. THE NORTH REMEMBERS SMASH TO-

Doo doo do do doo doo do do doooooo. 

Not only is Arya cold as ice, she can now literally be any character at any time. I am super cool with this. We are all Arya. Arya is me. Anyway moving on we get treated to a sweeping dramatic shot of the the army of the Night King, it is big as hell and includes many giants. Winter is coming indeed. Also Meera Reed has hauled Bran all the way to the Wall in a sled.  What a metaphor for life. 

In Winterfell we pick up with King of the North Jon Snow and Sansa talking Night Army strategy. Lyanna Mormont of Bear Island is also there smashing the patriarchy and repping Bear Island. Truly my all time favorite character on any show. Westeros could burn to the ground, or freeze into a block of ice, and Bear Island will still be an impenetrable fortress filled with men, women and children all armed to the teeth and ready to fuck you up. Long live Lyanna.

Anyway the idealogical rift between Jon and Sansa is only getting wider coming to a head when Sansa calls Jon out for choosing not to punish the Karstark and Umber families for fighting alongside the Boltons. Sansa believes the keeps of these traitor families should be given to knights loyal to the Starks, while in Jon's view the offending family members have already paid with their lives on the field of battle. Jon gets his way and has the surviving member of each house (who are literal children) swear an oath of fealty. Sansa is pissed and rightly so. Yes Jon's choice may seem like the magnanimous one, but it is not necessarily the wisest. Rewarding the fortresses of the Karstarks and Umbers to loyal families seemed to be the popular choice among the Stark banner men, a group whose loyalty he will need to retain when things start getting cold and scary. Whats more the two fortresses in question are in critical tactical positions north of Winterfell and he has handed them over to inexperienced children. Sansa is on point when she tells Jon he needs to be smarter than Ned and Rob, especially when Jon himself has already been betrayed to his death (once again by a child). Sansa is also correct that while Cersei may be a distant threat, she doesn't need to march an army to Winterfell to cut down the Starks. Jon is wary of Cersei's influence on Sansa, but he should be putting the lessons of King's Landing to use! Yes there was political maneuvering at the Wall, but none of those crows has ANYTHING on the Lannisters and in this arena Jon truly knows nothing (sorry).

 One of the many (many) beautiful aspects of Game of Thrones is the storytelling work done in costuming. in this episode Sansa is rendered in a black dress with severe, chain-like metal detailing. The costume suggests the threat of war, the confines of duty, the acquisition of power and resolve. it also mirrors....

The new Queen of the Seven (more like three) Kingdoms Cersei Lannister! While she may be queen, Cersei has now lost all her children, leaving her only with  the warm embrace of the iron throne and Jamie's semi-terrified love to prop up what remains of her humanity. But despite looming threats from every cardinal direction, Cersei is still on her game and looking to get into bed (perhaps literally) with Westeros' hottest new family to ally with - the Greyjoys! More specifically Euron Greyjoy who has a new look and party attitude! I don't remember him being this much fun last season, but I welcome it. 

Meanwhile Arya is walking through the woods and comes upon a wild Ed Sheeran, as one does. The success of Game of Thrones means that they can integrate higher profile names into the show (see Jim Broadbent) without breaking the ~*~*~illusion~*~*~ of the world. Personally, I felt like Ed was a little too extra... I couldn't stop thinking "That's Ed Sheeran sitting next to Arya. Do the Lannisters know that Ed Sheeran is in their army? What does ‘Shape of You’ sound like on a lute?" I was assuaged by the knowledge that he was hired as a treat for Maisie Williams, who deserves treats, so I will let it slide. Other than the presence of the Ginger One, this was a nice counterpoint to Arya's brutal opener. While she may be a hardened killer, she is still a young girl, just as most of the cannon fodder in the Lannister army are young boys (and Ed Sheeran), and this scene offered a poignant contextualization for the cost of war in Westeros.

Phew, I forgot how many things happen on Game of Thrones. The Hound comes across the man and child he doomed seasons earlier and feels remorse (character growth!) He also has a chilling fire-vision of the Army of the Dead marching away by a mountain (or maybe THE Mountain? Never let the dream of Clegane Bowl die). 

Sweet Samwell is essentially a house elf at Maester HQ, and instead of learning about how to kill White Walkers, he is carrying poop and organs around. We also find out that poor greyscale infected Jorah is locked up there likely in hopes of being cured. While his outside may be peely and gross, his profile remains as rugged as ever. All that out of the way, we did learn some important plot stuff here too. Sam steals a book from the Restricted Section filled with tips and tricks to slicing and dicing White Walkers. White Walker kryptonite is dragonglass, which we kind of knew from Jon Snow and company's misadventures north of the Wall. But what is more interesting is that we learn the Targaryen built fortress of Dragonstone (hey that's the name of the episode) is built on a giant pile of dragonglass (convenient!). If you cast your mind back to previous seasons, or even just the previously on at the beginning of the episode, that castle is where Stannis (lol remember him) had his base. In my experience Previously Ons are often the Rosetta Stone of television and the premiere's held additional clues as well.  Not only did the Previously On remind us that Dragonstone was where Stannis hung out, it also made sure to show us that the ill-fated Shireen spent quite a bit of time there too. Shireen who miraculously recovered from her greyscale after living on a giant pile of dragonglass, suggesting perhaps that dragonglass could be the solution to more than one problem...

And speaking of Dragonstone, we finally come to the titular location. Seemingly completely abandoned since Stannis bounced, Khaleesi and her crew roll up as their first landing in Westeros. In a beautiful silent sequence Dany mounts the stairs of the throne  but eschews the seat of power for the strategic promise of the war room. And she might as well be addressing the audience itself with her final cool query.

Oh my god that was so much writing. I'm going to bold keywords so you skimmers can anchor on to the topics you want to read about.

MVP: Arya Sheeran-Stark

XO MD

Bonus:

[evervivids]

「12 04 | k.sj」

Ethereal Deaths Series List

<Wide awake wide awake, don't cry

Wide awake wide awake, no lie>

 Why do we need to stay like that when everything's burning down?

00 00

 Snow is falling, blood is dripping, the fire's burning, clouds are gone.

With you in my arms, I'm content. I'm scared of you disappearing.

 …

 11 18

 "Yah, wait for me." You called out, panting at the back. I stopped and waited, seeing you run adorably to me with your short legs.

"Let me piggyback you." I blurted as my cheeks flushed.

You just laughed as you saw me.

 …

 11 19

 You danced, your feet rapidly shifting on the ground making swishing noises. Your eyes were closed, and you're smiling that rare smile. Your body moved along to invisible music, taking the breath out of me when you did a turn, twirling like the autumn leaves falling.

 …

 11 20

 "I'm going out." Your eyes found mine quickly, pleading me not to go. I knew how dangerous it was, but it didn't stop me.

"Don't wait up." I ruffled your hair and went out of the door.

“I’ll be fine.” I flashed a smile when you caught my eyes and closed the door.

 …

 11 21

 You're truly a miracle. You're my wishing star, my dreams, my heart.

Without you, I'm nothing.

 …

 11 22

 "Do it, or someone dies in your stead." the man jerked his head towards you sitting the corner, looking like the innocent angel you are. Your head tilted, questioning when I looked over to you. I smiled and shook my head.

Turning back to him, I took a deep breath and spoke. He smirked as if he knew what my reply would be.

"I'll do it."

 …

 11 23

 Fuck it.

Fuck you.

Fuck life…

 …

 11 24

 "Don't go," you pleaded once again. You were down with a fever, but you still staggered down to the door to persuade me to ditch. I couldn't, my eyes tried to send a plea. It's you or me.

Scooping you up, I placed you on the couch. Your eyes were drooping and you smiled, thinking you won. Closing my eyes, I quickly kissed your cheek and darted out.

I'm sorry. I'm in too deep to walk away alive.

 …

 11 25

 Merry Christmas.

I am early once again because I hate the actual date. So let me wish you this one month in advance, alright?

 …

 11 26

 What's there to do today? Oh right, it.

Orange, blue, transparent. My favourite colours in the world.

 …

 11 27

 Oh, add red too. It's so delicious.

The feel of the metal slicing through the air, the spurting of liquid on my face and the spatter of mini reds. Like a flower, it blooms on me.

I feel so honoured.

 …

 11 28

 The pleads from them were always what I hated. They remind me of my weaknesses. I had to shut them out. Thus, I love absolute silence when I'm doing it.

They used to haunt me, but kissing you made it vanish.

 …

 11 29

 Silent screams are going to be what I'll wake up to, manifesting themselves as nightmares. Really, mind? I rather have a red flower blooming on me.

 …

 11 30

 Lilies. I ripped them apart and threw the petals in the air. They swirled in the air, landing on the red sea beneath me.

I'm neither seeking for forgiveness nor am I pleading for my sins too. They remind me of you, and why I started doing it.

 …

 12 01

 Life was bleak enough, you once said. I just scoffed at your comment. Life was wonderful, I countered.

Years down the road, I came to realise you're right. Life ain't what I thought when my innocence was shattered.

Naive thoughts and naive minds. Why wasn't I seeing clearly then?

 …

 12 02

 Flames started licking at the end of my vision. Am I seeing things? They don't seem to burn me, but everything around me.

Is this the destruction power you talked about, dongsaeng?

I feel the power coursing through me. I feel invincible, for once after standing too much in the shadows finishing off what the big shots left behind.

 …

 12 03

 I'm unstoppable. I am that strong.

Bringing the blade down, it sliced cleanly through. As silent and quick as it can get, it found its mark.

I no longer must finish off, because I can now do it on my own.

 …

 12 04

 The knife pierced through me, instead of him standing in front of me. Why? I spurted blood from my mouth, feeling pain explode within me like firecrackers. Beautiful at first glance but actually deadly. Then I remembered. This knife will not kill anyone but yourself when faced with the situation of you and your loved one. That was what Namjoonie told me. I fucking forgot, in my crazed daze of killing.

Is this how my life is supposed to be? Burn bright and shine like a diamond, but once it turns black I'm back to be useless and worthless. My power that I obtained, does it kill me more than heal me?

Memories of the past came back to me. I was once like that too, and to destroy them, I burned everything down. I thought I changed when I met you, but I got worse. I started burning and slashing everything down, bringing it down to ashes instead of just leaving them after destroying what's around them. I felt the excitement in the blood spraying across my face, how my blades danced in rhythm to the skin it cut across. Such harmony and it finished with my signature kerosene waterfall and a click and throw of the firelighter.

A show I've come to perfect while I grew up, being oppressed by anyone and everyone. The only one that welcomed me was you, and the only one who exhausted all ways to save me from the demon within me.

I dropped to the ground, gurgling from the blood spilling out from me. You came running, tears already streaming down your eyes. You placed my head on your lap, mumbling "Don't talk, stay awake." repeatedly, almost feverishly. You fumbled for your phone and called the ambulance. You gave them our location and immediately looked back at me again. I was looking up at you, feeling my sight blackening. I tried to speak amidst the blood I was coughing out.

"My dear, you aren't at fault. You tried to save me," I coughed again, more blood coming out. You hushed me and held my head closer to your chest. I could hear your heartbeat thumping in fear. I closed my eyes and enjoyed it. After all, I could never ever hear it again when I'm gone.

 …

Epilogue

 The adrenaline and the thrill drained out. It was illusionary to think it was fun, but it ain't. I coughed again, blood was continuously flowing. Jimin was looking like he's going to break down. "I'm sorry." I gasped, raising a bloodied hand up to his cheek.

"Don't," Jimin closed his eyes, more tears streaming down his face. Oh by the angels…I don’t want to leave you too. I smiled despite the dire situation I was in. I chose this. I couldn't let him die. I would be nothing without him. If anything, he has to survive.

A distance away, a few bodies twitched. They were dead, with pools of blood around them. All with a knife stuck in the head or the throat. They had tried to attack Jimin when he was out with Seokjin, but Seokjin took them all down.

But, someone managed to get close to Jimin. He was about to deliver the killing strike when Seokjin appeared, taking the blow. Ignoring the pain, he bought the knife through the person's head and sliced down. All the adrenaline up to this died down, and he loosened his grip on the knife.

Jimin was shell-shocked, frozen. He was broken out of his frozen state when he saw Seokjin turn back and smiling before vomiting out blood and falling. He ran over and knelt down, cradling Seokjin's neck. He was trying to speak amongst the blood spilling out, but Jimin was already crying and desperate to save him that he didn't hear much of them.

It was only when Seokjin placed a hand on his cheek did he realise, Seokjin was trying to say something. "I.. love... you.." he was trying to say, his smile widening to show his blood-stained teeth.

"My dear, you aren't at fault. You tried to save me," Seokjin continued, rasping harshly. Jimin was dreading this moment. He knew Seokjin had run out of luck, and this was the last bit of time he could have. He wanted to deny and furiously scream at the sky, but he couldn't. All that could be for later.

"I love you," he choked out, tears still blurring his face. He took Seokjin's hands and kissed them. His fingers brushed off Seokjin's hair and his lips kissed them, tasting the rusty copper of his blood. His fingers trembled as they traced Seokjin's face, trying to imprint all this in his mind because it was the last time he could this. His lips went down again to touch Seokjin's, ignoring the copper taste but feeling the softness of Seokjin's lips, remembering how they taste like - blooming, pink cherry blossoms in all its innocence - and branding it in his memory. Seokjin's lips turned up. Breaking contact, they looked at each other.

Seokjin drew his last breath and broke into a full-blown smile, radiating all that innocence and happiness. Time seemed to slow down as his face then went slack, head lolling to the side. Death has come to fetch him, to a better place.

 …

 12 05

 Jimin let loose a scream, echoing and bouncing off the walls. It was enough to let those hearing feel the overwhelming pity and sympathy. His tears came down harder than before, and he felt they hurt more than ever. Like little stones hitting down in his face, they brought jolts and jolts of pain. The pain was horrendous, but the grief kept him awake. He can't lose sight of Seokjin, he needs to see him feel a tad better.

Why didn't he save him? Why did he give up?

 ××₰××

 Sirens flooded the neighbourhood. The paramedics hopped out of the ambulance and rushed to the alley. They quickly stepped over the bodies and saw Jimin cradling Seokjin, his lips moving like he's silently chanting some message. They reached him and quickly took Seokjin's pulse. "11 30. Patient dead, when we reached." One paramedic quickly rushed down to grab a body bag. The other was trying to pry Seokjin off Jimin, but one hiss from Jimin sent him reeling back in fear.

Those eyes looked murderous yet dull with grief, he thought. He made a quick decision and went to Jimin. He uttered an apology and brought his hand down to render Jimin unconscious. They brought Jimin to the hospital and treated his injuries.

When he woke, a doctor rushed over. "Sir, please don't move. We need you to go through some check-ups. We're suspecting you're suffering from PTSD-" Jimin glared at her. "Shut up. Bring me to Seokjin." The doctor was confused. "The one who came here with me!" Jimin was getting impatient, swinging his legs down off the bed. "But sir-" she protested.

"Bring me to Seokjin," he muttered again, making her shut up. "The morgue, sir. He's in there," she whispered, flinching as if waiting for him to explode. Jimin just walked off, shuffling down the hallways to find Seokjin. He barged into the morgue and found Seokjin, all cleaned up, on the table. A nurse behind was telling him to leave, but he ignored and told them he was collecting this body for burial.

They gave him a gurney and brought him to a meadow filled with flowers. Jimin bowed in thanks and wheeled Seokjin to the middle, apologising when the wheels hit something hard that made Seokjin's lifeless body arch up. With a grunt, Jimin hauled Seokjin off and dragged him to their favourite spot. Setting Seokjin on the position he likes, Jimin circled his arms around Seokjin. "Hyung, do you remember.."

He talked about all their times. He laughed, he cried, he smiled, he got angry, he got irritated. But, Seokjin couldn't hear him and appease him. Jimin never felt so lonely than ever. It was so frustrating, to not hear Seokjin's snarky yet amusing replies.

He looked up at the sky and saw grey clouds. "Are you going to cry for me? I've got no more energy too." he faintly smiled. As if on cue, rain started dripping on their skins, trickling down to the ground.

In the rapidly growing rain, Jimin cradled Seokjin and hummed.

 <But baby don't be so elusive, I'm trying so hard to refute this,

And every night I just dream this dream of you

You're wearing that same old silly smile,

Decked out in pink clothes and no less,

And calling out the same name over and over again,

And it's me>

 "Jimin ah, don't cry." the faint whisper of Seokjin in Jimin's ears made him tighten his hug around Seokjin, closing his eyes. If he could just imagine him here right now, scolding him for being soaked in the rain…

 …

 12 06

 "What's your most beautiful moment in life?" Jimin asked, tilting his head to see Seokjin. He was looking back at Jimin and he smiled. "You," he said, reaching his hands out to touch Jimin's nose. Jimin smiled in return. "But hyung, there should be more right?"

Seokjin shook his head. "Nothing else worth that title." he shrugged, turning back to the game he paused. Jimin groaned. "That's so lame," he grumbled. His lips formed a pout as he sulked. Seokjin wasn't paying attention though since he was engrossed in his game.

Seokjin sensed something off when he didn't hear the chatter of the usually talkative younger. He switched off his phone and looked at Jimin. As expected, that adorable kid was having one of his tantrums. "Jimin ah," Seokjin said, trying to start a conversation. Jimin huffed and turned his back to him. Seokjin couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. He laughed till he started guffawing.

"Ah, why?" Jimin couldn't stop himself from asking. "You, puah ha ha ha ha!" Seokjin couldn't stop laughing. Jimin's eyes narrowed as he started poking Seokjin's shoulder. "Why. Are. You. Laughing." With each poke, he voiced his question. "Ah ah, the pain!" Seokjin cried out, his face distorting into agony.

Jimin's anger dissipated as worry replaced them. "Where?" he asked, concern lacing his tone. Seokjin cheekily smiled and pointed to his heart. "You hurt me," he explained, pouting. Jimin scoffed and moved away, making the older whine.

"Jimin~" he whined, taking one of Jimin's arms and swinging them back and forth. Jimin ignored him. "You know, this is why I said you're my most beautiful moment in life." Seokjin's words made Jimin direct his attention to the older. Seokjin smiled when he achieved his aim. "Because with you," his arms shot out and pinched Jimin's cheeks. "Life's never boring. Complete, even." Jimin's ears turned red after hearing this.

"And because," Seokjin added, not done with his monologue. "You're the most beautiful being landing in my life and I can't believe how blessed I am." Seokjin's lips found Jimin's as they tangled in a harmony, arms wrapped around one another. Cherry blossoms flooded Jimin's senses while lilies overwhelmed Seokjin. Such innocence, they thought as their lips moved in sync. They never wanted to break contact, not willing to let this kiss end.