#mimic god of war

[mishaapocalypsse]

Description: Leif wakes in the midst of Fimblewinter, after two strangers and a familiar face come across the shrine that had once kept her asleep for as long as she could remember. Now awake, she struggles to put the pieces together in the wake of Ragnarok.

Pairings: Kratos x OC! //Heimdall x OC!//Thor x OC!

Warnings: Language, Mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugs, mentions of sexual content, sexual assault, mental illness, suicide may be within this fanfic. Reader discretion is advised.

You have been warned.

Chapter One: Awaken

There is a light in the distance, shadowing through the trees. The calling of ravens shrieking amidst the dreary winter. The ground that laid before the spartan and his son was frozen, frozen beneath their feet. The head attached to the man's hip spoke, out of turn.

"Brother, daylight is leaving us. We must take shelter before nightfall." The head was silenced by the hoarse grunt that left the spartan.

"Lad, talk some sense into yer' father."

"I don't think that is a good idea, Mimir." The boy had replied, shrugging his bow back onto his shoulder, keeping a steady pace behind his father.

Their journey back to the dwarves home had been fruitful, with a deer slung over Kratos's shoulder the three pushed through the barren lands of Midgard for what had felt likes months. However, they had only been away from the dwarves warehouse a matter of days.

"We go home." Kratos murmured loud enough for the other two to hear. "To the dwarves. The Mystic Gateway is just ahead." He added.

Much to their dismay when they had arrived to their destination, several draugr had been guarding it along with an amount of Hel-walkers to serve a small army.

Kratos threw aside their bounty to unsheathe his axe, Atreus close behind, readying his bow.

"Hold on, this gateway-" Mimir had been too late for he had been cast aside as Kratos lunged to pursue the enemies before him.

Mimir had went barreling through what had felt like stone, as he himself rolled to a halt. He groaned, dizzy from all of the rolling. If he still had a stomach he would have lurched forward and emptied whatever would have been in his stomach at the time.

"Fuckin' hell." He whispered under his breath.

Oh how he wished he would have been left behind on this little hunting trip, yet, the two always had need for him and his wisdom. And now, here he was, thrown into wherever he had been present. Looking up at the stone ceiling of what he could make out as a small internal cavern, his eyes glanced around, hoping to notice anything out of the blue or familiar.

It was then he had landed on the stone sarcophagus before him. His breath hitched; his eyes widened as if he had just found a treasure beyond his wildest dreams. The thought of having a body returned to the front of his head, and he yearned to be able to get up and further explore.

"Mimir!" the boys voice had called out to him, in which had snapped Mimir out of his daydream.

"Uh, in here little brother! I think-I think I found something." Or someone, he thought.

Before long, he could hear the crunch of snow, rock and debris under the boy's feet; heavy footfalls from his father approaching.

"Whoa," began Atreus, snagging up Mimir to hand back to Kratos.

"What is this place, head?" Kratos asked, awaiting Mimir's answer.

"A shrine."

"More like a gravestone." Atreus interrupted, earning a glare from Mimir.

"Whose? Odin's? Another god?" Kratos eagerly questioned.

Atreus had drawn closer, his hands grazing over the carvings that were slashed across it.

"Of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awaken by the light of Alfheim" Atreus spoke aloud.

Mimir, shot a look towards Atreus who waited for approval.

"Brother. If I believe I am correct, I know who lies before us." Mimir concluded.

"Any god is an enemy." Kratos growled.

"Aye, understood, this is a friend of mine. Long ago." Mimir pushed, with a sigh.

Kratos said nothing more, motioning to leave, yet Atreus stayed at the face of the sarcophagus etched and surrounded by vines, budding with large flowers.

Atreus held up his bow, drawing back the string. A bead of sweat running down his temple.

"Boy!"

The arrow had collided with the vines, and faded away, the light merging with the stone. There was nothing that had come about it, leaving the boy with much disdain. Atreus, turned away to face his father, who was angered by the rebelling of his son.

"You see, nothing came of that."

"At least I tried."

"Keep your focus on the task ahead, boy." Kratos told Atreus, a stoic expression lining his features.

Atreus nodded, walking alongside his father. Mimir cleared his throat, earning the attention of the young boy.

"Aye lad, the attempt was well appreciated." he says.

Before the three stepped foot from the abandoned shrine, a faint glow caught their attention from behind. Atreus, Mimir and Kratos turned, unaware of what was about to happen.

"Looks like the lad did something." Mimir spoke, while Kratos unhooked him from his belt, holding him out for the boy to take.

Atreus gently grasped his friend in his hand as he cautiously took a step forward towards the stone slab. He reached for the lid, pushing it back, for it did not budge. Heavy and thick was the stone, Atreus looked back to his father, who leaned against the wall watching the two.

"Mind helping your son, brother?" Mimir called to Kratos.

The boy's father, not knowing what to expect from this, did not assume while he firmly placed his hands against the cool rock slab before him.

With a firm shove, the lid to the sarcophagus fell back, crashing against the floor. Light shimmered much more brightly from within, more vines, budding with those same flowers now sprouting. Kratos stepped back, holding his son and Mimir behind him. He readied his weapon, just in case, and waited with bated breath.

~~~~~~~~

With such a force, her eyes opened as she had been jolted awake. Her vines, her flowers grew wild from her resting place, her hands raising to grasp onto the railing of her tomb. Pulling herself up, a change of the scenery made its way, clouding her sense of judgement.

How long has it been?

While she had leaned up, she used what little power she had acquired to float out and land to the ground, her barefoot lightly touching the ground below her. The long white, embroidered tunic flowing around the woman, spread across the debris littered floor. The flowers adorned her hair, cascading down below her knees, some braided. A gold headpiece glimmered in what little light was around.

For a moment she said nothing, standing there basking in the cold of the small cavern. Her eyes--not to mention her body, adjusting to the brimming, freezing temperature.

"Oh, by the gods..." Said a voice all too familiar to her.

The woman jerked her head towards the three who had stood before her.

~~~~~~~

"My lucky stars...it is you!" Mimir croaked out. "Aye, lad! Could you bring me closer?" He asked Atreus, who gave a slight nod, but as he stepped forward Kratos held a firm hand pressed against the boy's shoulder.

"Aye brother, again, this is a friend. There is nothing to worry about." With that, Kratos hesitantly let go of his son, letting him approach the woman.

She waited patiently, as the young teenage boy came to her. She outstretched her arms, as Mimir was placed into her hands. Her hands trembled when she held Mimir's head.

"You look so tired, Mimir. What has happened to you?" she asked, brining him up to her face.

Mimir gave a sad sigh. "Too much and too long of a story lass."

She shook her head, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. All the cheerful sounds of Midgard were replaced by the howling of an empty wind, the shudder of sullen branches and the cry of stollen warmth. Her chest ached, burning with remorse for all the time she had missed.

"I was asleep for so long...tell me, friend. Is it time to ready for spring?" This made Mimir give another heavy sigh. His face hard with regret.

"Quite the opposite, little goddess." There was a a groan from a nearby draugr that alerted the three men, as the goddess shuttered.

"Best to get moving. Come with us, somewhere safe. I assure you. I will tell you everything you need to know on the way, Leif" He promises, as she nods, handing Mimir back to the boy.

She tried walking yet loses her balance and falls forward. Time spent asleep in the stone and she had forgotten how to walk, except she did not hit the ground, for the man with the ghostly appearance had caught her fall.

"Thank you." She whispered loud enough for only him to hear.

~~~~~~~

Surrounding her, she sat at the dwarves table, by the boy she had come to know as Atreus, and his father, across from her. She had come to know him as, Kratos. Mimir eyed her with a worried look, for he had noticed her anxiousness for the sudden crowd only being pulled from her eternal resting place only hours ago.

"So, who are you really?" asks Brok, one of the Huldra Brother's. "I find it hard to believe you're a fucking goddess come back to help."

"Brok, hold your tongue, ya' wee fuck." Mimir says sternly, "Alas, that ain't a way to speak to a lady."

Brok snorted, rolling his eyes as Atreus began to speak.

"From the runes on your arms...you're a goddess of spring?"

Mimir retorts, "Not just a goddess of spring-she is the goddess of spring."

Leif agrees with Mimir, folding her hands in her lap. She shyly shrunk away from everyone.

"Begs the question of why you were locked away in that tomb?" Brok yells from across the room.

"That's not a-"

"Well, we are all dying to know-"

"That's none of your concern, especially when she's just woken up-" Mimir interjects.

"Ah, who gives a lousy fuck! All we know she could be working with Odin." Brok hollers back at Mimir.

Odin? The All-Father...she hadn't heard from him in ages. What had become of him? Of everyone at home? Her friends, the spirits? Any of the Midgardians? There was so much going on all at once. Amongst the arguing, she shrinks away more inside her mind, trying to put everything together. None of her questions, answered. Abruptly, Leif stands, with the attention of the others on her now, as she stalks towards the door.

She needed air.

She needed a little space from all the attention that had become of her so quickly.

Through the doors of the Huldra Brother's home, Leif stepped out into the warm breeze in between the realms. To clear her mind, she decided for one way to help her overcome her nervousness.

And she did just that.

[percheduphere]

LET'S TALK ABOUT LOKI'S SHOES (ACTUALLY, HIS WHOLE WARDROBE)

Production costs aside, clothes tell the audience about how characters think of themselves.

Loki's shoes in the S2 finale raised a lot eyebrows, but I find them quite fitting: they are comfortable, practical, and most importantly, they are humble. The camera brings this to our attention to communicate his evolution in character.

Loki has always dressed well, often times ostentatiously. Whether he is at war, passing as a Midgardian, or held captive as an Asgardian prisoner, Loki communicates his social class and sense of superiority through clothing. For him, clothing armors his fragile sense of self and against others' opinions of him. He intends to be perceived as deadly charming but ultimately unapproachable.

His attire in the first Thor movie is roughly equal parts green and gold, signifying his royal status. His style is dressed down for his brother's misadventures in Jotenheim, yet overall both silhouettes are lofty, princely, but not hardened or threatening.

In Avengers, Loki's look has more black and leather, with exaggerated emphasis on his shoulders meant to intimidate as he assumes the role of villain. The silhouette is very hard, heavy, and edgy. Gold detailing is prevalent as well. Combined with the goat's helm, this is Loki's most pretentious outfit, which speaks to an undercurrent of low self-esteem and a compulsive need to impress. There's no mistaking he is the main antagonist of the story.

In Thor 2, Loki's attire is similar to Avengers but the overcoat is exchanged for a less bulky version (perhaps conveying he is less guarded now that the effects of the Mind Stone are no longer influencing him). Loki's role likewise pivots from the harsh lines of a villain to the more flexible edges of a reluctant villain-turned-ally. This aligns with his character arc when he protects both Jane and Thor, seemingly sacrificing himself.

In Thor 3, Loki's silhouette is streamlined even further. The overcoat is done away with in favor of what appears to be a leather doublet, pauldrons, and vambraces. Gold accents are minimal. While stylish, Loki's attire is more practical than showy, and his helm serves the dual purpose of protection as well as weaponry. At this point in his arc, Loki has become a full antihero, joining his brother's side in rescuing as many Asgardians as possible, and eventually dying in a vain bid to protect Thor from Thanos.

The TVA does something very fun and interesting in taking away Loki's ability to dress himself. Since Loki cannot use his magic in the TVA, he is forced to wear the same clothing as his captor/advocate, who eventually becomes his best friend and peer.

Perhaps, on a subconscious level, this helped Loki to feel included. We know by his pwn admission that Loki fears being alone and desperately craves a sense of belonging. At the same time, he intentionally dresses to put people at a distance, thereby protecting himself from potential rejection at the cost of isolating himself further.

When Mobius gives him that TVA jacket for the first time, Loki seems uncharacteristically pleased. It is not an attractive jacket by any means, yet he neither scoffs at it nor refuses to wear it. Instead, Loki puts it on and is content when Mobius says it looks "smart" on him. He continues to dress like Mobius and, indeed, mimic some of his mannerisms such as placing his hands on his hips. Without clothing meant to push people away, Loki opens up, has more fun, and makes friends.

Loki's choice of attire as he assumes the mantle of God of Stories (and time) is fascinating. Setting aside the clear design inspiration from the comics, Loki's silhouette is soft, remarkably so. His colors are earthy hues of green, and the only bit of flare are the light gold trimming and crown. The look brings to mind the garb of sages and wise wizards rather than royalty or warriors. He's powerful yet approachable because there is humility in his bearing. And that humility springs from a well of healthy self-worth, self-love, and a deep love for others.

The shoes are not meant to be attractive. They are meant to help him ascend the throne, nothing more.

[luxcuriousao3]

Task Force 141 + Eyes

"You know what they say. Eyes are the windows to the soul..."

Ghost

Ghost with eyes like onyx; hard, cold, soulless gems glaring out of his skull-shaped mask. "Eyes like the grim reaper," his enemies whisper amongst themselves. "Meet them, and he'll drag your soul back to hell with him." Lieutenant Riley with eyes like freshly overturned earth, the same color as the dirt that rained down on him in the grave he was buried in long ago. Eyes that peer at you from over the rim of his pint glass the first time he ever sees you, curiosity stirring in those near-black depths. Simon with eyes like molasses, dark and sticky and languid as they look down at you through dirty blonde lashes. A low, gravelly, “Good morning, love,” rumbles out of his cavernous chest, sleep clinging to every inch of him—from his smoky eyes, to his deep morning voice, to the relaxed splay of his fingers on your belly, round with his child.

Soap

Soap with eyes like chips of ice when he’s in the field, a flaming frost that burns hot and cold. Sergeant John MacTavish with eyes like the lochs of his homeland, bright blue and inviting as he picks you up for your first date, a roguish, cheeky grin on his face and air of near arrogance that you soon learn is well deserved. But lurking beneath the deceptively calm surface, there’s something with sharp teeth and powerful jaws. A predator. Johnny with eyes like the aquamarine of your engagement ring, sparkling and precious and glittering with joy as he reads you his vows—never a poet but having worked harder than on any mission to scribble the words on the paper in front of him. The paper that shakes in his grasp while tears well up in those diamond eyes at the absolute vision you make, his bonnie lamb, his lovely lass, his wife.

Price

Bravo-6 with eyes like stormy seas, the choppy waters of his irises grey-blue and deadly. As vast as the ocean and hiding as many secrets—not a single soul will ever truly know every inch of the abyss. Captain Price with eyes like reflecting pools, still and tranquil and showing you yourself as you gaze into them. Stoic but beautiful blue eyes that give nothing away about the man that they belong to, and yet seem to know everything about you with one glance—a heady feeling. John with eyes that you would happily drown in. The crinkles at the corners mimic the little ripples a rock makes when he teaches you how to skip it across the lake he brings you to on your anniversary every year—the place where he first told you he loved you.

Gaz

Gaz with eyes like an ancient god of war, the pitch-dark irises swirling with a hunger for vengeance, a hunger for justice. They can tell him when, and they can tell him where. But they can’t tell him how. Sergeant Garrick with eyes like a well-aged whiskey, and the same ability to warm you from the inside out and make you trip over your words. You’re trapped in his inky amber gaze like a bug as he smiles at you from across the room—but you don’t want to escape. Kyle with eyes like nutty chocolate and a perfectly brewed cuppa, eyes that feel like home. Eyes the same color as the rosewood of the crib that your precious child sleeps in—always peacefully resting through the night, rocked to sleep in their Papa’s arms as he sings them lullabies in his velvety voice.

[little-fae-hero]

Linked Universe, The Hero of Hyrule

My headcanons/aus

Art by Atro

Colored version.

Long talk/Ideas under the cut, warning for violence and blood. (Note: I may add stuff over time, but nothing will be deleted from the list)

Twilight. Wind. Time. Legend. Four. Sky. War. Wild.

Hyrule (Legend of Zelda 1 & 2). Other Nicknames: The Traveler, Healer, Medic, Little Lost boy, The Fairy/Fae. The Survivalist.

Hero’s Title: Hero of Hyrule, Hero of the Two Zeldas, Carrier of the Triforce, The Fae born.

God that has claim over his soul: Kishin (Fierce Deity)

Part of First’s soul: Tranquility

History:

All that Link knows is that he was born to a fairy in the kingdom of hyrule, eventually he is separated from her and an old man gives him a sword to help him survive in the harsh world. Eventually his wandering led him to the dungeons and defeated the monsters inside, gathering up the piece of the Triforce of Wisdom and Power. Eventually he defeated the monster known as Ganon and saved princess Zelda.

Of course this wasn’t the end to this adventure, Zelda insisted Link live in one of the villages, though Link didn’t feel very comfortable with it. Most of the village was cold and untrusting especially to outsiders. It was here that Link learned from Impa about the other zelda, who was cursed to sleep until someone would wake her. So this time he is given a quest to find the missing Triforce of Courage and wake the second Princess Zelda. He of course being who he is, he accepts and begins his journey, this time having to fight a dark reflection of himself. Meanwhile Ganon minions are trying to capture him to use his blood in a ritual to bring back the king of evil. After he helps the princess, he learns the Triforce, not having a secured place in the realm it once rested, has now chosen him as a protector and stays with him.It will also turn people hostile when they realize he has power to grant anyone’s wish. As well as monsters still hunting him down. He opts to live on the road, only stopping when he meets one of his Zeldas.

Death: Unknown…

Interesting stuff/Headcanons:

Besides the Triforce, the fae side of Link is known to give hylians an uncanny feeling, so most will either chase him out or ask him to leave.

He’s a good voice mimic, so he can mimic the voice of people and animals, he mainly like’s to use chirps and trills.

Has an iron stomach and can survive off almost anything. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t get sick, and has learned that lesson the hard way.

When he learns a spell it gets soaked into his skin, almost like a marking.

When he starts to get comfortable, his human form will slowly start to shift into his real form, looking more like a dryad then a hylian.

He only really lets his fairy wings out when he truly is safe and comfortable, that can easily be torn and are hard to heal, so it’s a big sign of trust to see them.

Fairy wings are the vulnerable parts of a fae, fae hunters often times will tear and break them to prevent escaping, and Hyrule trusted the wrong person when he was younger (hense why he didn’t use alot of his magic)

They have healed over the many years but they still have scars on them.

Hyrule cannot read, at least not till after Zelda from his first adventure taught him, he’s gotten better and can use magic if he falls short.

In his Hylian form, the first hint to his fae side is a crown of branches he wears, that looking closer grow out of his head. This shows many of the fae and forest his a child of nature.

He trims the branches just enough so they look like a little crown a child may have put on him.

Anything cut off of him will go back to its natural state, Hair? Turns to leaves. Skin? Becomes a bark-like texture. Again he’s still natural and flesh-like but his true form blends into nature better.

Ganon utters a blood curse to Hyrule during his death, meaning should he be captured and blood spilled Ganon could come back.

This of course results in Hyrule being terrified of his own blood, he wears leathers to protect his skin.

Ganon has also shown interest in possessing the boy, dark Link was a side effect when he couldn’t.

This makes Hyrule weary of any magic signatures he can’t identify right away.

He’s actually really good at sewing and repairing stuff sense oftentimes it was either repair it or throw it away.

He doesn’t really feel comfortable in bed since he spent so much of his childhood in a fairy fountain or moving around.

Because of his fae magic, other fae like Time feel comfortable around him, however because Hyrule can’t get a read on Time’s magic he often is silently panicking.

For some reason he feels like he’s seen Legend before, he doesn’t know why.

----

Hyrule is done!

[eliza-forget]

Okay, someday I'll collect all the information about Au into one post

In the meantime, my old artworks with Kallamar and Shamura

In my headcanons, Кallamar and Shamura weren't siblings. At first they were just allies. According to the backstory that led to their meeting, Kallamar, under duress from other deities, sent a disease to Shamura's cult, what made the second one turn to him for help (and Shamura didn't know the truth). One could say that Kallamar took pity on the God of War and thus acquired favorable conditions for his existence. After all, now he won’t be oppressed by other deities when Shamura stands at his defense.

They had been calling each other siblings since Shamura had found Narinder. It was nothing more than an attempt to mimic mortal relationships, for Narinder, the new vessel of the red crown, had lost his family in a tragic accident before receiving it. Later on, calling each other not by title but as a sibling stuck with them, and with the finding of other crown vessels, they became like a family. But still don't quite understand, as deities, the intimacy of these family bonds, so it led to further division and discord, which started with Shamura and Narinder specifically.

After all, can someone who loved you - put you on a chain?

By the way, a little symbolism, but the broken chain on Narinder's neck was originally from Shamura, which he managed to break and attack his siblings.

WELL, THIS A SMALL FRAGMENT OF MY AU'S LORE xD

[loading-excuses]

ok i really love how a lot of the character redesigns in hades 2 are clearly a direct nod to what the gods are experiencing with the war against the titans in the game

like demeter is in full battle armor, her daughter is unreachable in the underworld and she is not messing around. she is ready for battle.

aphrodite wears war paint/makeup that directly mimics that of ares’s war paint/makeup in the first game.

the one i find the most interesting though is chaos. their redesign has them looking much more human. which some may think is odd considering they are essentially an extra planar being of creation. but i think it makes perfect sense. nyx who is their child, is one of the deities who is unreachable in the underworld. and as we know from the events of the first game, there’s a whole quest on the fated list that involves fixing the relationship between nyx and chaos. the fact that nyx is unreachable is most likely taking a toll on chaos, which in turn is making them feel more “human”/mortal thus causing them to present to appear more human. it makes sense if you think about it

i could go on and on about the new character designs and how they’re indicative to the war with the titians but these are the ones that have stuck out the most to me

edit; i am choosing to ignore the fact that chaos’s new design does look a lot like meg bc if it does mean anything i want to see it play out in the game without trying to theorize about it too much

[dearlyd3parted]

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖: 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 | 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

🕸️syp: Mark Lee is many things; A 2nd year college student, A stressed Stark Industries intern, Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman, and also your childhood friend. He's also a secret fifth thing, a loser hopeless romantic who's been in love with you for years. Due to his inexperience, it takes him two failed attempts at a confession until the third is finally a charm. 🕸️mark lee x fem!reader - (127 centered) biggest idiots in love u will ever read 🕸️feat: a bit of nct dream, xiaojun from wayv, and yunjin from lsrfm cause mother 🕸️word count: total 26.2k 🕸️warnings: some profanity (mark is very stressed ok), descriptions of injuries (blood, cuts, bruises), light angst, mostly just misunderstandings and such, brief mention of smoking, eventual smut 🕸️authors note: ok i genuinely had so much fun writing this one i love mark so much and i live to push the spidermark agenda. i don't follow any exact mcu plot. just inspired more heavily by tom holland cinmenatic universe! also he has glasses in this fic, i know canonically spiderman has perfect vision but idc i have a nerd agenda to push ;p i've only proofread once, so pls bear with any typos. to my current followers who were waiting on me to post, i spent a lot of time on this one so that is why content is delayed, but i hope it makes up for it! im doing more piwon next! i really like this one and hope u do too. pls reblog and like and follow for more ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ 🕸️chapter index: chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 tags🏷:

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟷: 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚢 - wc: 8.3k

Mark Lee has always been sure of his identity.

It seems that since birth he has had a very firm grasp on himself, what his personality is like, what he wanted in his future, what he wanted in the very moment. Mark has never been a mystery to him.

When he was in the 6th grade, he knew he was a buzzing personality. He knew he was a jokester, always smiling, always laughing, even when the moment didn't call for it. He knew that he loved to talk about anything, really. He could spend hours talking an unsuspecting classmate's ear off about his favorite subjects (math and english, never science), the video game he just played, or some cool new thing one of his favorite superheroes did.

However, because of his...as one would put it in kind terms, passion for life and anything that excited him slightly, he had a hard time making friends. Sure, he had some, the same handful of guys who had been perpetually stuck with each other since elementary school, but making new ones was the problem.

It was at that point that Mark realized he is also a people pleaser from time to time. Especially at 12 years old when everyone is dying to fit in. So, in order to get some of his peers to find him...not annoying, he tried to mimic their personalities.

Mark amped up the snarky-ness and the sassiness, changed his look to what could best replicate what was popular at the time, and started talking about Tony Stark maybe 30% less (That really was the best he could do).

And surprisingly....it worked. For a bit there, he was thinking he might slowly climb his way up from whimsical nerd to just some dude. God, he wanted to be just some dude so badly.

Then one day he saw you.

You sat alone on the end of a lunch table, a pizza lunchable in front of you as you clicked away on your DSI, seemingly playing...Pokémon? Of course, adorned with a Star Wars backpack sat right next to you. He shuddered a bit at the sight, but not negatively. He just really wished that was him instead of what he was currently doing, trailing behind the kids who play basketball after school with an immense 'cool kid' vibe to them.

Mark took immediate note at how they snickered at you, the word nerd being thrown around being most obviously about you. As he gripped onto his tray, a sly smile masking an internal panic on his face, he figured it was a perfect time to prove himself as he followed his pack leaders.

Mark cleared his throat as he approached you, ready to strike. "Nice backpack, Young Jedi." He snickered, his voice as condescending as he could make it out to be when addressing a really cool backpack.

You paused your game with a swiftness, swiveling around to look at him, not an ounce of offense on your face. Without a beat, your deadbeat expression bounced back.

"Nice bowl cut, loser.”

Needless to say, Mark didn’t make the cut for just some dude. He would be staying a talkative and giggly nerd for a while, he was sure of that fact about himself. He knew that was him. It was okay, though, because he didn’t want friends who he couldn't be himself around. After that whole facade, he knew he wasn’t the nonchalant cool guy he tried to resonate with.

He also knew that after a thorough and heavy apology his friend Taeyong had made him give you, he had just met someone who he resonated with a lot more.

He knew he was your new friend.

(To which you only agreed because of his Captain America themed backpack. Besides, your jab at his bowl cut that truly was awful made it even.)

A year later, he was certain that you were his best friend. Maybe it was a bit selfish that he had so many best friends, you including his flock of seven other boys who had just become stuck to each other.

But…there was something different about you. Like you were his ultra best friend, if thats a thing. After the initial awkwardness of your first meeting, the friendship only soared. Helping each other with homework, rewatching ‘Star Wars: Revenge of The Sith’ for the 30th time, fangirling over Tony Stark and the avengers. He never thought he would meet a girl that understood him so well, and in turn who he understood, too.

Until the 7th grade, he couldn’t quite place what it was that was so different. You were integrated into his group of friends, he didn’t treat you any differently and you didn’t with him. Yet, for some reason, he was happier when you were around, and even happier when it was only the two of you.

His heart was a mixture of things every time he made a joke and you laughed because of him. It had also dawned on him that even if you and him had your many similarities, you were still more reserved and cautious when it came to other people. Despite that, you seemed comfortable around him, enough to confide in him and share whatever you wanted to.

So, when you confided in him tearfully that the boy you had wanted to attend the spring formal with was going with another girl, as your best friend he decided to step in and take you himself to cheer you up.

Seeing you a bit happier at the outcome of that night, wearing a navy blue dress he remembers oh so vividly as the colorful lights seemed to be illuminating your smile, his heart sank to his stomach. That was when it had hit him what had been so different about you.

Mark knew that he liked you. He liked you terribly.

He knew he liked you as he danced with you, his hands tenaciously at your shoulders as you thanked him with a smile for not letting you come alone. He knew he liked ever since you started to feel ‘different’ in the best way possible, and he knew he would keep liking you for a long, long time.

And that is exactly what he did.

Middle school passed by in a flash, and he never liked you any less. In fact it was impossible to not like you more. You, who was always on his side through all his phases, who brought an extra sandwich from home to share with him at lunch, who gifted him the missing star wars comic in his collection for his birthday, who defended him against all the snickers and teases of the rest of the friend group, who was the cutest girl he would ever be blessed to see, who joined the academic decathlon in highschool so he wouldn’t be alone. How could he not crush on you harder?

Just because he liked you so much, didn’t mean that he rushed to act on it. Quite honestly, when he first realized all these feelings were heavy to hold and the only way to let go of them was to confess, he had a nervous breakdown. What would he even say? What would you say? How would he even explain this to you? You were always so headstrong and focused, would a measly schoolboy crush even appeal to you? Was this the end of the world?

Once he calmed down, however, he realized that there was no rush to explain the feelings he himself couldn’t even muster to say aloud. All that mattered is that you were in his life, and he was in yours. And he was pretty damn content with that. Maybe in the future, if he still felt so much and he had gotten much more confident, he’ll be able to tell you. At the moment, 15-year-old and sophomore in highschool Mark had no rush at all.

And then, he was bit by a spider.

Of course, it wasn’t a normal spider. Because god forbid anything ever be normal in Mark’s life. One morning, he woke up with body muscle his lanky limbs did not have when he went to sleep and a strength that broke his desk bunk bed in half. If it wasn’t obvious something was off, his glasses stuck on his hand for the better part of an hour sure confirmed it.

Yup, Mark knew it. He had turned into some sort of a Spiderman.

At least, that’s what he called it. It’s what he decided to go by when a very confused passerby asked him who he was as Mark saved his bike from a thief. A quick sew of some blue and red fabric with a poorly stitched on symbol, and he was putting these powers to test.

He had a good run making a name for himself on Youtube under this ‘Spiderman’ pseudonym. It was a blissful first few months, figuring out the basics of his powers, slamming into the wall maybe only a handful of times, fighting neighborhood crime in a heroic way that he used to only be able to gawk at the avengers doing.

However, ignorance is bliss. Mark couldn’t possibly be ignorant to the way that he was making enemies who didn’t like the interference with their crimes all over queens, and fast. He especially couldn’t ignore it when a particular petty group of criminals had hit rookie Spiderman with everything they had, and the bliss ended as he limped away his first gruesome fight he had managed to win with his life.

As he dragged his way across the city, whimpering and crying as the universe decided to make his first terrible day on the job even worse with rain, he was aware of how roughed up he was, he needed help.

He couldn’t just go to his Aunt and tell her her 15 year old nephew had been putting his life in danger for the last few months. He couldn’t go to the hospital and risk exposing the identity he tried so hard to protect. He certainly couldn’t let his rowdy friends know by showing up to Taeyong’s apartment.

So he found himself barely making it up to your fire escape, knocking with the last bit of strength he had to get your attention from your Calculus homework to his figure in the window. He was limp and a mess of “i’m sorry”’s and “i don’t know where to go”’s as you pulled him in, speechless at the sight in front of you.

You didn’t get angry, you weren’t annoyed, you didn’t ask him a million questions. You only bandaged his wounds, and offered open arms as he cried and cried until he couldn’t anymore.

As Spiderman Mark gripped your hoodie, his tears staining it with salt, he knew he felt safe. God, he always did with you.

He knew that he loved you. Because honestly, wasn’t it impossible not to?

The revelation that he was in love with you didn’t come with much shock, if he asked 6th grade Mark if he knew this day would come, the answer would without any doubt be a yes.

It did come at a turning point in his life, however. He met Tony Stark, got suited up with Stark Industry gear that made every nerd crevice in his mind vibrate, fought with the avengers, nearly joined the avengers, accidentally revealed himself to his aunt, and then his other 7 friends, fought against avenger-level-threat villains, and quickly rose as one of the most famous heroes around.

Throughout everything, he never loved you any less. And even through his trials and tribulations as he settled in this neighborhood Spiderman identity, you never strayed from being his best friend. He didn’t need anything else to feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Except, maybe an answer to the dying question he wanted to know for years and years. Was he just your best friend? Or has he always been something more? On the few times you’ve told him something along the lines of, ‘I will never care about anyone like I do about you, Mark’, (And no, he actually didn’t memorize that one word for word) Did it also mean what he has always meant, or was he just dear to you in the friendliest way possible?

Although Mark was older, 18 years old and graduating from highschool, he still had that same mindset he had as an angsty new teenager. His feelings for you only weighed more and more in tons and tons over the years, especially since he was able to name it as love. Yet, he found it hard to explain why he still hadn’t felt any rush to act on them.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, even if anyone who would hear his logic might think it was. As he watched you say goodbye to peers and friends at graduation from a distance, happiest as ever in your cap and gown as you were set to attend MIT with him in the fall, he knew it wasn’t because he didn’t want to. He dreamt of it some nights, actually. He hadn’t known you his whole life, but for some reason, it felt like you were always there. When he had that stupid bowl cut, when he tried out for the soccer team and made a fool of himself, when he got his first B on an english paper, when he got bit by that spider and bit off more than he could chew, when he was applying for college and decided to major in computer science and engineering, you were there.

As you pranced back to him as you finished saying your farewells, he couldn’t help but think it would always be this way. You had him, and he had you. The night you both graduated, you both sat on a rooftop, staring at queens under you as you shared a pizza. Naturally, it felt like you would always be there. You were just natural.

Despite that, It had been nearly seven years since he first met you. Nearly seven years since he told himself he would confess when the time was right, when he was more confident and hopefully a little bigger.

He was definitely taller, and involuntarily grew some muscle. Luckily, his hair hadn’t seen the after effects of a bowl cut in years. His voice didn’t squeak when he talked to you or any girl for that matter, and he liked to think he was 10% less of a nerd. At least, enough to be charming when it counted.

So as you both left highschool for your first year at NYU, he decided he checked a sufficient amount of boxes to go for it. However, it was clearly going to be harder said than done. Just seeing you the night after he made up his mind that the time has finally come, his forehead was slick with nervous sweat and somehow he walked right into a pole. Your questioning about why his ‘Mark tingle’ hadn’t worked–which is what you had named his 6th spider-sense–didn’t help not one bit.

Truth is, it was terrifying. He didn’t know why. He had fought against intergalactic villains and catched runaway trains with his bare hands. Yet a simple ‘I’m madly in love with you’ was too much for him to handle.

Mark composed himself, running it through his mind during every late night patrol. He was going to do it, and soon. First, he had to get over the initial fear. After that, love sparks would fly.

Soon turned into weeks later, then months, and then an entire year. Before Mark could blink, it was the 2nd year of university and the ‘initial’ fear seemed to be a perpetual one.

In his defense, the first year of college was very busy. The both of you were buried in the books, biochemical and computer science engineering not being easy majors, and of course trying to maintain extracurriculars. Mark with his Stark Industries internship, that both was still a pseudonym for Spiderman duties, and this time around an actual internship he had begged Mr. Stark for. You, with the school's Debate team and interning wherever it counted and wherever paid.

Mark would be a liar if he said there was absolutely no time, though. A plus to the both of you being the unassuming and socially awkward nerds all throughout the years meant that you didn’t peak in highschool. University could be a time to blossom, be more social, enjoy the journey a little more, maybe attend a party or two.

Watching you in this beaming light as you entered a new chapter of your life, an enigma shining more than ever, it only intimidated Mark even more. Which is why his after-graduation-confession plans had stretched out a whole year later.

Mark never felt like he was losing you, though. Losing his mind? Most definitely, but not you. You were closer than ever, Mark was content.

Telling himself that he had you on his side through everything, and he would continue to have just that is what helped him sleep at night. He would stop being a coward eventually, and just like the movies, the sun would shine a halo around you, his eyes would meet yours, and he could finally confess. Time, there was lots of it, right?

Wrong. Again, it seemed like Mark’s reality was always perpetually shifting or going the opposite direction that he was aiming for.

Today, he found himself standing outside of one of the many NYU buildings, waiting for your cell biology class to be done with. It had become a habit to him to make sure you got back to your apartment safely after classes that ran into the evening, claiming that as the resident neighborhood spiderman, it was his duty to escort you. Even though in reality, you were capable of getting around just fine, and this was just another excuse for Mark to spend even more time with you.

He was wiping down his glasses when he heard the door open and you walked out, tired out from a full day of classes. He wasted no time putting on his glasses back on, making sure he caught every bit of you. Mark always thought you looked best like this, hair down and tousled in comfy clothes, today a cardigan and some baggy jeans, the night making your features even softer.

You smiled despite your weariness, waving at him, and Mark smiled right back. “Hi, Mark.” you said, walking up to him as you clutched onto your bag.

Mark reached for it, slinging it over his shoulders, the heaviness of textbooks and all your other supplies being nothing to him. “Y/n! How was your day?” He asked enthusiastically.

You stared at him with those eyes you get, sighing as you looked down. “It was alright…I got assigned two group projects, though. I mean, two, seriously? In the first month of school?” You complained and talked with your hands like you always did when you were angry, as you both started walking, Mark listening to every word.

Mark inhaled sharply, making a face at the thought. “Yikes. Two on the same day is some luck. My operating systems professor said we would have a group project soon as well, but at least we get to choose our partners.”

You pouted up at him, finding your situation unfair. “We can’t even have that luxury. I don’t know any of the people I was assigned with.” You complained with a frustrated sigh.

Mark sympathized with you, knowing how unfortunate that must be, but when you looked so expressive and adorable as you complained, it was hard for his heart to stay still in its cage. “That really does sound like it sucks. I hope they aren’t rude or some slackers.”

You shook your head looking off at the city in front of you, when all Mark could do was look at you. “I don’t think they will be too bad. The group project for cell bio, I got this one guy…Xiaojun, I think, for a partner. He seems like he’ll be a big help.”

Mark’s head tilted, his glasses tilting in the process. “Mm, really? How so?”

You looked at Mark with a pursed smile, shrugging at the recollection. “He’s very receptive, first to offer to help with research. Gave me his number so I could call him ‘if anything’, so I gave him mine as well. He’s nice, a little too nice maybe, but nice.”

Mark felt an uncomfortable lump in his throat, he hadn’t heard of you and any other guy in ages. He didn’t want to. As he took in what you had said, recognizing the name of a pretty well-known school heartthrob, exchanging numbers with him, and even the whispered fact of him being too nice, he didn’t like it. Not one bit. Surely it couldn’t be that this Xiaojun was…taking an interest in you?

Mark had to make sure as he forced down the lump that prevented him from speaking. “Ah…so sounds like…he’s flirting with you.”

You both came to a stop at an intersection. You pondered your words as Mark stared at you, reading your every visible thought. “It seems like it. He’s a nice guy but I'm not interested if that is the case…because…” You said, your words trailing off as you looked at Mark with a distant look in your eye and shrugged after a moment. “I guess, I don’t have a reason to not be interested. Should at least hear the guy out, I suppose.”

Mark’s heart sank to the floor in record speeds. And he’s jumped off of buildings. As the light turned from the orange hand to the walking man, he stalled a few seconds, shaking off this new dread as he jogged a little to match your pace. “H-hear him out? So you…you like him?”

You giggled a bit, shaking your head with a smile. “I didn’t say that. I just met the guy. All I’m saying is I’ve always said no, no, no, and no. Maybe it’s time to move…Uh, I mean, to stop saying no so quickly.”

All Mark could process in that sentence is that there were others that you had to say no to. As he looked down at the sidewalk he was strolling on, his world view seemed to crack a bit. He had always known how amazing you were. Your eyes an ocean he wanted to sail. Your hair framing you in the most flattering way. Your sarcasm and humor that brightens his day. Your drive. Your kindness. Your intelligence. Your generosity. Should he keep going? He could, he could spend days listing everything that was right in you. It had just never dawned on him that other hormonal and sappy guys like him could do the same and act on it. Worse, that you could entertain it.

“As in…look for someone?” Mark asked, his voice sounding pathetic beyond his control.

You sighed, staring off at the distance, not wanting to look at him. “I don’t know…it’s just…something I've been thinking about. It feels like I'm overdue to try my hand at this whole love thing…”

Overdue. Overdue. Is that really how you felt? Mark supposes you have both gone your whole lives without dating someone. At this point in your lives, that can be considered a while. Mark had never felt like he was lacking in that category, love, because he had so much of it for you. You didn’t know that, though, and now you felt overdue.

Mark’s palms were sweaty as he gripped the straps of both of your bags. “There’s…no rush, though, right...?” He questioned, trying to preach his own stupid, stupid anthem.

You nodded, a bit solemnly if he had to add, looking up at him with a strange mix of a smile and pout. “You’re right. No rush.”

Mark sighed a breath of relief. A relief that didn’t last long as you spoke up again. “But there’s also no reason to push it away anymore.”

Mark had so many questions, such as why were you set on ‘pushing it away’ until now, where the hell did this Xiaojun come from, how it can be possible that a certainty he awoke with this morning can crumble a mere few hours later, and how he could possible be so stupid, stupid, stupid, cowardly, and naive?

Mark inhaled a sharp breath, trying to stabilize himself. He wanted to freak out, he wanted so badly to bring the both of you to a halt and grab your hands, begging for you to not even think about this. However, that would also be stupid, and if he showed that he was anything short of understanding during this conversation, you would never share anything like this with him again. Then, he would be completely in the dark about your apparently beginning love life.

“If…that’s what you want.”

Stupid. Idiot. Buffon.

There it was again, that forced smile that Mark was too busy internally panicking to notice himself. “He hasn’t even said anything that confirms the suspicion. But…I’ll see. I’ll figure out what it is that I want.”

Mark nodded, trying to play it cool as his fingernails dug into his palm. He didn’t even notice that you had arrived at the train station, standing in front of the train that took you home.

You looked up at him, smiling softly as you reached up to flick hair out of his face. It didn’t help the melting pot that was his current emotions. “You texted early that you wanted to get an early patrol. You should go get ready. I’ll be okay from here.”

Mark normally would have shaken his head no immediately, insisting that he take you all the way to your front door. Today however, he felt as if the longer he spent around you, the closer he was to losing it. “You sure? I really don’t mind-” is all he managed to say as you cut him off.

“Positive. I can join you on comms later tonight. Gotta get some homework done first.” You said, looking back as the train started to pull into a stop. “You go get ready. And eat something or you’ll be off your game. Last time you went out hungry you nearly crashed in an office window.”

Mark chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck, thinking to himself that of course only you could make him laugh and make him want to yell in such a short span. “Aye-aye captain, I’ll do that. You better go before the train leaves.”

You nodded, taking back your bag from him and waving. “I’ll come to yours tomorrow. We have o-chem in the morning. We can swing there?”

Mark smiled, as best as he could by this point, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll swing there. Text me when you’re home.”

You shot a thumbs up as the train doors opened and you rushed to get in. “I will, bye Mark! Careful!”

His heart warmed, you had always told him to be careful, no matter the hundreds and hundreds of times he must have gone out now. It wasn’t enough to make him unball his fists though. “Bye, Y/n.” He said back, missing its added sense of joy.

He watched as you walked in, taking a seat and looking back at him once. He didn’t even have the guts to stand there and watch you leave, looking back twice before he was sprinting up the subway stairs and running down the street.

The slight chill in the night felt even colder as he ran, wind blowing smack in his face, but he kept running until he found an alleyway, running deep into it until he was out of sight, away from any pedestrian eyes. The cuff Mr. Stark had given him came in handy at times like these, when all he wanted to do was be suited up as soon as he could, His heart wouldn’t stop racing as the press of a button had him in his full spider-suit. He tightened his backpack onto himself, and he was off, shooting himself up in the air, and running across a ledge before throwing himself off.

He didn’t even react as he reached closer to the ground than normal, shooting a web to divert his fall just in time. Even when he was swinging way too fast, weaving through buildings and poles and cars. All he could think about you and your words. When he woke up in the morning, he thought he had time, lots of it. Now as dusk falls over and the cars underneath him couldn’t be as loud as his thoughts, he finds out he doesn’t. Or perhaps he did, and now it had run out on him.

.   　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

“So, the last thing I said was, ‘I’ll figure out what it is that I want,’ and then we got to the train station.” You finished explaining to your roommate, Yunjin, as she sat on the opposite side of the couch.

You had only met Yunjin last year, but she already felt like one of your best friends you had ever made because of how easy it was to tell her all of your problems. Of course, you already had one of those, Mark Lee, who had been wreaking havoc in your life since you had first caused him to become the laughingstock of the popular kids back in 6th grade. But you couldn’t tell him absolutely all of your problems. Especially the biggest one, that you had always had a strange sense of infatuation for him that you expected to go away, yet here you were.

If you had to pinpoint when it began, you would say when he knocked on your window sophomore year of high school, bloodied and in the famous original spiderman costume. Mark had always been loveable, long before he got bit by that spider. It was what you liked most about him, his ability to always see the positive, to always somehow wear a smile and a laugh. In someone like that, it takes the utmost trust for them to allow the most vulnerable parts of themselves to be seen.

So, it wasn’t the suit that made you realize what you had felt. Even if you had been a major Spiderman fan and the revelation was only a little life changing, that was the last thing on your mind. He was hurt, he was scared, and he needed someone, and his first thought was you.

You thought it was a fluke, feeling so much for someone so unexpected. Surely, it was bound to go away. Yet, it didn’t. The feeling was nagging and adamant, just like Mark, and refused to let go.

After some time, you came to terms with the fact that nothing about it was unexpected at all. Since you met Mark, you spent every waking moment with him. Going to your first hero convention, building the Lego death star you got for your birthday, the school trip to Venice, middle school dances, high school dances, all of it was Mark, Mark, Mark, Mark. Every memory, the good and bad, that held a special place in your heart had Mark. How was he not to become special as well?

You thought about coming straight out with it, hoping to get closure or acceptance or anything that would help maim the feeling of overflowing love. However, Mark wasn’t just Mark anymore, he was Spiderman. While the latter didn’t matter much to you, it had become a part of who he was. With his great powers, came great responsibility. Not just that, but it seemed like him almost dying every other weekend had become his new reality. While it was stressful watching Mark go through all of that, even as you became his girl-in-the-chair of sorts to help him on patrols, you couldn’t imagine how stressful it was for Mark for himself. It felt unfair to throw a confession on top of everything he already had to deal with.

So, you decided if anything were to happen between you two, Mark would have to initiate it.

While you may have kept it better under wraps, Mark always wore his emotions on his sleeves. It would take an outstanding idiot to not notice the way he acted around you. The way his ears go pink before his cheeks do, the way on occasion he’ll forget to respond as he stares in a trance, or he’ll fumble with whatever object he has in his hand. Mark had always had those awkward, loser-ish tendencies, but it was undeniable at how they seemed to be at their worst whenever you were around.

He had to have at least entertained the idea. So, therefore it was just a waiting game. When Spiderman was ready to take that leap, so were you.

You waited, and waited, waited, and waited, and waited some more. Suddenly, the second year of university came, and you were still waiting.

Honestly, it had brought you down that no moves were made as you graduated high school. Needless to say, that the fact he was still radio silent when entering university only made you more discouraged and had you wondering if your premonition was wrong after all.

Your new roommate turned friend, however, was quick to catch onto your gloominess, and almost immediately connected the dots that it was about Mark.

Since you caught her up on everything she needed to know, while of course keeping Mark’s secret locked away, she had become a trusted person to confide in. As opposed to your clear inexperience, Yunjin had more experience on her love life resume, and was always at bay with advice.

Her recent advice being something that she believed would speed up the process, to display your availability, and to flaunt that you were planning on using it. In whatever form that may be.

So, when Xiaojun exchanged numbers with you, (and in your defense, was indeed being a little too friendly) it was the perfect opportunity to test the theory.

That is how you found yourself here, playing the conversation back and forth amongst each other to try and decipher if it worked.

Yunjin groaned, hand coming down to smack the pillow in her lap. “‘I’ll figure out what it is that I want.’ You guys are impossible. It is crystal clear what you both want.” She said with a shake of her head. “Is that really all he said? ‘If that’s what you want?’ How did he…I don’t know, was he panicky or shaky or anything?”

You thought about it with a sigh, shrugging. “I mean, I guess he was a little. At the stop walk he…almost forgot to move? But he had just come from that Stark internship, he’s always like that after it. Like a deer in headlights.”

Yunjin sighed as well, biting her bottom lip in thought. “Okay, this is good. This is a good start. We’ll just have to ramp up the Xiaojun thing and eventually, he’ll be forced to crack.”

You smiled, a little bittersweetly, your hands clenched together. “I hope it plays out like that…otherwise all this for nothing.”

Yunjin could read you like a book, a superpower of hers Mark didn’t always have, ironically. “Not for nothing. You know, you could always say something.”

You looked up at her with a knowing look, shaking your head with a sigh. “You know I can’t. He’s got too much to deal with, he’s literally sp…super busy. With school and the stark internship. I just can’t.”

Yunjin nodded as she stood up, taking the memo not to pry any further. “Alright, I hope this works then, for the sake of you both.” She said as she grabbed your face in her hands jokingly. “Seriously. I’m sick of looking at it.”

You swatted her hand away, chuckling. You hoped it worked too. With your whole being.

.   　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

Mark landed on the roof of his apartment that night exhausted from a full day of work followed by an evening patrol. Crime was quiet lately, with his biggest cases today being a measly shoplifter and a cat stuck in a tree. The type of quiet that came before a storm. Mark had too much on his mind to think about that, however. All of which involves you.

He deactivated his suit and found himself back in regular clothes, waltzing his way down the rooftop access stairs, all the way to his apartment on the 6th floor. 

He came in fidgety and anything but calm, seemingly too pumped with adrenaline and emotion to be as tired as he usually is after days like this.

Mark had the opportunity to be roommates with two of his friends, Johnny and Doyoung. Luckily for him and unluckily for his friend, Johnny was sitting on the couch, a gaming controller in his hands as he looked up to see the ball of nervousness make its way into the once mellow apartment. “Hey, Mark.” Johnny greeted, not talking his eyes off the TV. “You wanna play overwatch? Doyoung’s out for the night.”

Mark could barely register the question, his backpack slamming on the kitchen table as he plopped down on the couch next to Johnny. “What? No, no. I’m good, don’t wanna play. I have to talk to you, though.”

Johnny sighed, not taking his eyes off the screen. If his hands weren’t so busy, he’d probably grab his head too. The subject was painfully obvious. “What’s up?”

Mark sat back, looking at the ceiling. “Y/n. I messed up. So bad, dude.”

Johnny nodded, trying to feign surprise. “I see. How is she by the way? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Mark ran his hand through his hair, shooting the back of Johnny’s head a look at the inappropriate question during his time of stress. “She’s fine, dude. She told me something today.” Mark said, taking a deep breath to begin his rant. “You know, I told you…I’m confessing soon. Or I’m planning to. When I work up to it. I thought…shit. I’m so stupid. I thought she’d wait for me. She doesn’t even know, but I thought she’d wait. Apparently, there’s this dumb guy she has a group project with. Xiaojun, that’s his name. He’s flirting with her, I’m assuming. They exchanged numbers and everything.”

Johnny listened with his eyes a little narrowed, nodding in understanding. “Ah. I know that guy. He’s pretty cool.”

The look on Mark’s face couldn’t be described as anything less than offended. “He is arguably not. I mean…I know people must try to hit on her and stuff, but she was like…all cryptic. Saying things like ‘maybe it’s time to not say no so quickly’ and ‘I’m overdue at this love thing.’ She says she doesn’t like him but…she’s…she’s looking to date right? It’s gotta mean that.”

Johnny raised his eyebrows, fighting the urge to keep playing his game or turn and start shaking Mark by his shoulders. “Listen, Mark. Y/n’s a nice girl, full package, great person, gorgeous as well, and a single college student. Dating is kinda what you do. Especially with someone like Xiaojun.”

Mark’s world couldn’t crumble any faster. If only Doyoung was there instead, he at least would have broken the news a little nicer. “Oh, God. Shit. What…what do I do? She’s gonna start...dating.” He muttered with his hands on his face, glasses pushing up to his head.

Johnny stifled a groan. “Mark, you do what you should’ve done years ago. You just tell her, man.”

Mark didn’t like that answer. Of course, it was the only one that made sense, but he was hoping that someone would have some sort of miracle solution. “You say that like it’s easy.”

“Shouldn’t it be though?” Johnny retorted. “I mean, you’ve known this girl nearly half of your life. She cares about you a lot. You see it, I see it, we all see it. A confession isn’t going to break a bond like this, it can’t. You’ve got to know by now that what you’ve got is stronger than that.”

In the eyes of Mark, what Johnny said went against what every imagined worst-case scenario told him, even if logically it had made sense. You weren’t the type of person to cause a grand thing or make Mark feel bad about something so small. That was inherently the problem, however. Nothing about this was small. Small is the last word he would use to describe how he feels about you. You wouldn’t consider small something that could fill every ocean on earth's surface and then some. “How do I even tell her? I can’t just say ‘I’m in love with you.’” Mark argued, his voice sounding more and more pathetic.

Johnny used a brief moment to shoot a look at Mark, his eyes going back to the TV as he finally put his controller down and completely discarded the match he was in, leaning on his knees. “At this point, that’s exactly what you say. Your problem is that you’re trying to make it too grand, too perfect. Y/n has never been the type to be a stickler for that. It doesn’t matter how you do it, it won’t affect the outcome. If the feelings are there, which if you ask me, I think they are, then they’re there. Plain and simple.” 

Mark felt a lot of things, but at that moment defeat was most prominent. He had been imagining for years how he would confess to you. In one fantasy he would buy a billboard in Times Square and take you to see it, or perhaps he would learn the guitar and write you a song. He could make his own advent calendar, buy you a present everyday each specifically curated to your wants, and on the final day, a beautiful piece of jewelry. You deserved nothing short of perfect, but now he had to ask himself if that was really what you would want, or if he’s trying to pull every string he can for it to work in his favor. 

“So, what do I do…?” Mark said quietly, running his hand through dark hair.

“I just told you. Just tell her. Write her a poem, take her to dinner, or just straight up come out with it. Just tell her, as soon as you can, before it’s too late.” Johnny said, a supportive hand patting Mark’s back. “No more waiting. You’ve run out of time. I’ve told you this before, but I promise you it’ll turn out fine.”

It had been a wild afternoon filled with many unwanted revelations and a nasty swirl of emotions, but the quick conversation had brought Mark to the eye of the storm. He was backed into a corner, with only one way out, and that realization had finally dawned on him. “You’re…you’re right. I have to…as soon as I can.” 

Johnny ruffled Mark’s hair, reaching for his controller. “That’s the spirit. You wanna play Overwatch now?” 

Mark shot up and grabbed his bag from the table. “Nah, I’ll pass. I’m beat. I’ll probably just go to sleep, honestly.”

Johnny nodded as he returned his focus back to the TV. “Night, then. Don’t stare at your ceiling all night.”

Mark scoffed as he called from the hallway. “Wasn’t gonna do that. And goodnight!”

1.

He didn’t stare at his ceiling, but he did stare at his desk and lined paper almost all night. Johnny’s first idea of writing a poem was thrown out there randomly, but Mark didn’t think it was half bad. It was a short read on your end, and easy to get the point across without Mark having to do much talking. So, he wrote away, trying various different styles. From haikus to Shakespearean sonnets, to a ballad, each one frustrating him more and more. He even tried to make his usually sloppy writing neater than usual with cursive.

In his last attempt, he decided to ditch all rules of quatrains, lines, and rhyme schemes and instead write whatever he was feeling in a free verse poem. Finally, he felt the poem was right. Enough to say what he needed yet not including the words he needed to tell you himself. With a sigh, he laid out the poem neatly on his desk, ridding all evidence of his struggle the past hour by clearing off all pens and discarding all crumbled up sheets of paper in a trash can.

Mark found himself staring at it over with pride. Was it cheesy? Yeah. Was Mark a hopeless romantic? Certainly. That is just who Mark is, he knows that. After all these years spent with him, surely you know that too by now.

He was drained by this point, his eye lids that have felt stretched open the past few hours feeling too heavy for him to fight against them. Finally, he flopped on his bed, being able to close his eyes and drift to sleep, with plans to give you the poem laid on his desk the next time he saw you. 

.   　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

Mark didn’t process that he would be seeing you much sooner than he expected. Soon being the next morning that you had set to head to class together. How could he when he was so out of it? He hadn’t felt as physically and emotionally tired as he did yesterday in a while, which consequently probably caused him to sleep through his alarm the next morning. 

So, he slept like a boulder, missing all of your incoming calls and texts saying that you were headed to him, blissfully unaware of the poem laid out on his desk.

Mark still slept like a baby as you arrived at his apartment, and of course Doyoung had let you in without hesitation. It was completely out of his control as you made your way to his room on a mission to wake him up. Mark stirred awake, slowly and whiny, as you shook his shoulder, your voice quiet yet enough to wake him up gently. “Mark…you overslept. Get up now, so we won’t be late.”

Mark groaned, rubbing his eyes as you stepped away from him, your job complete. In Mark’s freshly awoken state, he didn’t see what the problem was as you browsed around his room while he gained consciousness, eventually pulling his desk chair out to sit at. Sitting down, your curious eyes landed on the only thing that was laid out, his poem. Well, your poem.

He sat up, his hands still attacking his eyes, trying to rub the sleep away, and you were already well into reading it. Your face was a scramble of feelings that only grew in perplexion as you read every last word, and even getting the chance to read it twice before Mark realized. After a particularly effective yawn and stretch, his eyes landed on you with your eyes set on the paper. Only then did Mark shoot up on his feet, his limbs stumbling as he decided if he should play it cool or snatch the paper from your hands, his only thought being, “please tell me she didn’t read it, please tell me she didn’t read it, please tell me she didn’t read it, please tell me she didn’t read it.”

At Mark’s not very subtle reaction, you put the paper down, looking up at Mark from the chair. “That’s…” Is all you managed to say, not being able to choose between the words intense, beautiful, star striking, devoted, or out of place in Mark’s room. So instead, you stayed speechless for a moment, another feeling the poem invoked as you studied his every move. “Did you write that…? For who? Your writing looks different-”

In a split second, Mark was torn between answering your question with a “yes” and several “you, you, you, you, it’s all about you, only about you," ’s which is what he should have done, or lying his head off. 

The image in his mind of you sat in front of him, seeking answers to your questions, looking at Mark like you were searching for something, it seemed to move in slow motion. This was the plan, was it not? He would hand you the poem, and then he would just admit it was about you. You were more than smart enough to piece together what that implied. 

As he cut you off, he hoped that was what came out, a mere couple of words that would be all he needed to say in the moment. However, when has anything ever gone his way?

“I didn’t write it!”

Mark said a little too desperately, wishing he could exit this sack of meat and bones and punch it across the face. “Not my writing. Too neat. I uh…I found it…on my desk! In my coding class! Must be some kind of secret admirer, I think.” He exclaimed, watching as your face went from something that he couldn’t tell was hope to neutrality, drinking in his lie as fast as he had come up with it.

“Oh…well, that’s…wow. They must really like you,” you pondered as your eyes grazed over the paper.

Somehow, the poem that he had poured his heart into for you, had turned into the sign of affection that a made up secret admirer had written for Mark. If you weren’t right in front of him, he’d fall to his knees, grabbing his head in his hands as his first confession attempt results in a failure down the drain. “Yeah…I guess so…”

Turns out, confessing right away was going to be much harder than he imagined.

.   　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

chap. 2

chap. 3

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Elden Ring DLC Bosses Revealed!

From Software has released a guide to all the bosses of the upcoming Elden Ring DLC, Shadow of the Erdtree! Here are the ten great monsters you'll fight in the Shadow Lands:

Messmer The Impaler

Messmer is the third triplet with Malenia and Miquella, banished to the shadow lands because for liking snakes and impaling people. Mostly for impaling people, but the snakes didn't help.

The Burning Colossus

A big heap of flaming bodies used as a weapon of war in the rival kingdom of Nausicuu, this massive beast has to be scaled and slain because that's what you do with colossi in games.

Albinauric Orphan Tear

The missing link between mimics and albinaurics, this monster throws his "husk" at the player like a boomerang. The first boss of the DLC, it guards the cave that leads to the Shadow Tree.

Godskin Brigade

The Gloam-Eyed Queen is guarded by an army of her progeny, the godskins. They bear her most fearsome weapon, the Incantation of Ganqskwa-Darengi, which makes them act unpredictably and never need to stop to let the player get in a single stab or arrow.

Godlion Dancer, Firstborn of the Gods

The murdered soul of Godwyn, son of Godfrey and brother to Godrick, Godrranq's lover. This guy has God written all over him. He also has 30 legs so he's good at dancing.

Birdmaster Tonguay, Slayer of Literally Everyone

Ever wonder who tied all those knives to all the bird feet? Ever wonder why there are so few people in the Lands Between? Meet Tonguay, murderer of all those people at the claws of his bird-knives.

Ribbitus, Priestess of the Frog Cult

Elden Ring's new gimmick boss can only be defeated by jumping from platform to tiny platform to poison the flies she likes to eat. She randomly kills the player without warning or opportunity to recover. She sings to you in French the whole time.

Metalgiir, Armored Gandamu

An occult robot constructed by Robot-Master Iji Jr., Metalgiir demands an entirely different kind of gameplay that doesn't fit or scale to anything else in the game, yet is not optional so you have to learn to beat him or you get nothing.

Ouchlord Vivaldi

Just... Don't fight this guy, he clearly has enough problems going on.

Daniel R. Clarksen

Little is known of Daniel Clarksen or why the Tarnished must fight him. He seems like a decent guy, but he probably like turns into a giant demon thing with boobs. These games have lots of those.

[confused-wanderer]

Alfred is badass and has unuasual skills even for a batfam member.

Inspired by pandaredd’s skit where Alfred says “Bond wishes he was me”

The man is the caretaker of the bat family, he has raised every damn member, and has seen more than his fair share of wars, doomsdays and worse. He is a butler. And god knows what else in the spare time. All I imagine is that if a teenage Bruce looks up at Alfred and whispers he wants to train, Alfred might be the one who gives him contacts.

Alfred:

Bruce:

Alfred: .. wait here master Bruce, I know you won’t even listen to what I’m saying so I will let you learn the arts. Only under one condition though, I choose your trainers

Teenage Bruce: Alfred, whom would you-

Alfred *already on the phone* : Hello there Lee

Teenage Bruce *wide eyes* *mouthing* : Rock Lee??

Alfred *scoffing* : what world do you think we live in! Be more realistic Master Bruce.

Bruce: .. so who is it?

Alfred: Bruce Lee.

The scariest thing about the butler is that he will take you apart in less than a blow, and he doesn’t even need weapons. He will however use them just for fun.He can still hear if Bruce or any of the batfamily sneaks around, he’s been the only one who somehow knew Cass was in the room and offered her snacks while she was hanging upside down from the ceiling in the pitch black and overall has better instincts to locate any of them in the mansion than a GPS tracking system.

When supervillains, nosy reporters or even crooks try to break into the Manor, the fact that no one installed a security system should’ve really been a warning point that the Waynes had other.. deadlier security.

By the time Jason comes home he sees Alfred cleaning up the carpet, but doesn’t miss the wrinkled edge of the sleeve. It is only then when he looks to the other room and the criminals are all sitting in time out, each a truly remarkable shade of blue, black purple and green he’s never seen in real life. And none of them were even bleeding.

Alfred also has insanely fast reflexes. And to everyone surprise, he is an bloody good shot. Green arrow was once testing out a new arrow and it accidentally whizzed past the target and almost hit the cat when out of nowhere Alfred caught it and snapped it with one hand. And then proceeded to borrow a pistol and shoot the target while walking to the other side of the room, not even sparing a glance at the bullseye he had hit. All the while holding a tray of glass bottles that hadn’t moved a single inch.

He’s given advice to Jason on how to make explosives out of everything and nothing, taught Dick how to cut a tree in half with one kick, showed Stephanie how to always win Russian Roulette, guided Damian on how to break bones without ever leaving traces, taught Tim how to mimic someone’s voice and be scarily accurate, and so much more. Once on live television the world saw Alfred eat three cookies and refuse to pass them to Bruce Wayne before saying “They’ve been poisoned” and throwing them away. A few people swear they heard him mouth “bloody amateurs” afterwards and he insisted he was fine, stating that he was already “used to it.”

Whatever the fuck that meant.

And that is why the bat cave is a safer option for batman’s enemies than the mansion. Because if you were caught by the butler, just know that god has already forsaken you.

[dirthenera]

I want to talk about Emmrich’s costume- as a professional costume designer. (GIF by @hawke , thank you! It’s so beautiful 😍)

In preparation for DAV, I’ve been watching Vincent Price movies. In two specific movies, I’ve seen elements of Emmrich’s costume.

The first is The Fall of the House of Usher. In it he wears a long, dramatic, red velvet coat that is just… SO sexy. I mean… I’m normal about clothing

It really reminds me of the ✨ drama ✨ of the intricate red leather details of his coat. The vibes match- though the details don’t quite. The oversized collar, yes, but they traded velvet for leather (which makes sense for a video game)

The next is the emerald green captain’s coat in War Gods of the Deep. The color has been carried over, along with the fold over lapels with the round details and even the lines on Emmrich’s coat that mimic the trim lines.

I even see some Doctor Strange influences- which is very interesting because Vincent Price was the inspiration for the character originally. It may also throw some interesting meta towards the theory that one of his hands is messed up.

But back to those two specific movies- though Vincent Price has been in many movies involving death, those two are the roles where his characters knew they were dying and didn’t try to run from it- the ones where they face and embraced death instead of trying to cheat death or fight it.

Like Nick Boraine, his VA, has stated multiple times as being his favorite aspect of Emmrich. That he doesn’t see death as something negative, that he embraces and sees the beauty in it.

I’m very curious to see if there are any other parallels between these characters and Emmrich once we get to play the game. If you’ve seen any of his movies I haven’t and noticed another parallel, please add to this post!

[lannisterdaddyissues]

DID THEY REALLY BOTH TAKE PLACE IN NEW JERSEY LMFAO

New Jersey reactions to the alien apocalypse

@malewifebillcage @thethistlegirl

[volatilesubstances]

Baldur's Gate 3 Companions Ranked By Physical Strength (not STR)

I see so many people who consider any character with 8 or 10 STR stars to be physically weak and it annoys me because actually STR is only a specific part of what we call 'physical strength,' which also includes parts of DEX and CON (which are also not encompassing of dexterity and constitution) by definition. So, under the cut is a ranking of, in my opinion based on stats, context clues and character traits, the BG3 companions based on their overall physical strength. For arguments sake I am only considering the characters in their 'good' path, so no God Gale, Vampire Ascendent Astarion, etc. I am also considering how much they were likely nerfed by the tadpole. Possible spoilers ahead!!

1. Strongest - Lae'zel

This shouldn't be that shocking, githyanki are as a species built for combat and she has spent her entire life training to be a soldier.

Additionally, not only is she consistently swinging heavy weapons around, as a battle master, she is doing so with a level of precision that requires extra strength in order to manipulate the weapon she is using (fun fact, this is by definition attributed to dexterity rather than raw strength, despite being attributed to the STR stat ingame).

She also has the second highest movement speed of any of the companions, and the largest jump range, especially when considering the psionic jump, though this could be considered more magic than physical strength.

All of this she does while also wearing medium armour.

2. Karlach

Also not shocking, given she is a former soldier of an actual archdevil and built like that.

She's literally part machine, though the instability of her engine can be conditionally considered a limiting factor in her strength as much as a booster.

Only character proficient with war hammers, the heaviest weapon type in the game.

Best endurance (closest trait definition to CON stat, 'constitution' is not really a measurement of any given trait so much as the complete makeup of a person's physical form) of any companion, though in terms of physical strength one could argue this is offset by her not wearing armour.

Additionally, arguably the CON stat can be considered a mixture of physical and mental fortitude, so it is debatable whether this can be entirely attributed to physical strength.

3. Minsc

His STR stat does not match his actual strength at all.

For a start he is a former berserker, which has easily the most raw strength of any class or subclass across the board.

His introduction in this game is literally him prying the jaws of a mimic, which have a STR stat of 17 and CON of 15, open from the inside.

Ranger proficiencies don't cover any particular heavy weapons, but they do include both medium armour and shields. Minsc doesn't have either in his starting gear, but nonetheless has the ability to use them.

Also, just look at him. Man is bricked.

4. Astarion

Controversial given the 8 in STR, but realistically Astarion has to be pretty damn strong by nature, just in a different way to the others near the top of this list.

The skillset of a rogue can be compared to the physicality of acrobatics, gymnastics, calisthenics, etc. and let me tell you, that shit requires an insane amount of strength.

He was also likely the most nerfed of any of the companions in terms of physical attributes by the tadpole. All of the other spawn, and also vampire spawn according to 5e, have 16s in STR, DEX, and CON. Without the tadpole, and considering his 17 in DEX, it could well be that he was the strongest of the spawn to boot.

Additionally, it is mentioned a couple times ingame (and in 5e) that spawn can become full vampires by killing their master. Obviously this doesn't happen ingame, most likely just because it would cause balance issues, but as far as I know in the epilogue he is not explicitly referred to as a spawn, so it could be argued that the tadpole may have just supressed this evolution and therefore doesn't happen until the postgame. If this were the case, the baseline for his physical strength stats would be 18 in STR, DEX and CON, though as vampires are inherently magical and these stats are considered supernatural even in-universe, it is debateable how much these stats could attributed to actual physical strength.

5. Halsin

Halsin has one of the wildest changes in stats between NPC and companion, with his STR stat going from 20 in the Shattered Sanctum, to 16 after escaping, and then all the way down to 10 as a companion. Again, it's a balancing thing for gameplay, and because the stats otherwise would have been impractical for a druid, but cutting it by literally half is actually insane.

Again, I am treating his NPC stats as his 'canon' stats, given that a good amount of his character is that he is unnaturally large and strong (and hairy, though that's not really relevant) for an elf, to the point that a good portion of people actually headcanon that he is a bear that can turn into an elf and not vice versa.

Having said this, his dexterity isn't amazing and outside of wildshape, which I am again not considering as it is magic, his physical combat is mediocre without magic.

Interestingly, he at some point won an arm wrestle against Minsc, who I have put higher, though Minsc considered it to be cheating as he turned into a bear. As I see it, he wouldn't have turned into a bear to win unless he was either losing, or they were evenly matched enough that he was putting so much effort in he lost control. Either way, from this I would consider Halsin to be on par at most with Minsc, and this is also only one area of strength.

6. Jaheira

Jaheira's companion stats are nerfed from her NPC stats due to balancing, but interestingly this also changes her main stat. To me, her NPC stats are her 'canon' stats, but I do this the companion stats can also provide some insight into her overall constitution.

As a companion, Jaheira's main stat is a 17 in WIS, but as an NPC it is a 17 in CON, followed by a 16 in WIS. This backs up what I mentioned earlier about CON being partially mental fortitude as well as physical endurance.

Another weird change, as a companion Jaheria has a 10 in STR and a 14 in DEX, yet as an NPC her stats are again reversed in magnitude, with 15 STR and 14 DEX. There isn't really much to say about the order of these, but the high values in these stats just highlights that outside her generic druid build as a companion, Jaheira his very much a formidable warrior.

Having said this, as High Harper her job it likely 90% admin, diplomacy and telling people what to do rather than actual fighting and missions, with the exception of big stuff like the Cult of the Absolute.

Additionally, though in 5e there is some debate about half-elf lifespans, in the Baldur's Gate universe at least she is very much in the final decades of her life, and by her own admission past her prime. Even being the strong soldier that she is, at that age I can't imagine her stamina being quite as good as it may have been.

7. Minthara

Another NPC that gets nerfed when they become a companion, though the changes here are significantly less to write home about.

She's decently strong in all three relevant stats, though none of them are her main focus. DEX and CON both have their high values sacrificed when she becomes a companion.

She's also the only companion that has proficiency in heavy armour by default.

Having said this, she's not particularly heavily built, her background is in nobility rather than any sort of combat or athleticism, and a good portion of Paladins' power comes from their attacks being enhanced by spells rather than raw strength.

8. Shadowheart

We're getting to the companions that there really isn't much to talk about for.

She has decent relevant stats, as well as proficiency in both medium armour and shields, in addition to maces and morningstars, which are usually some of the heaviest one-handed weapons.

As a trickery domain cleric of Shar, she has trained in combat to a degree, and is by no means weak.

Having said that, she is small and lean and, most importantly, not a class that particularly has a need for a large amount of physical strength in pretty much any capacity.

9. Wyll

Wyll is the only character whose NPC stats are actually worse than his companion stats. Seriously, if this guy is supposed to be a hero and monster hunter already at the start of the game, why is he so weak?? That might be a bit harsh, he was probably also nerfed by the tadpole. Probably.

During the time of the game, pretty much the only thing going in his favour in terms of physical strength is his proficiency in shields, as his weapons of choice outside of spellcasting are also all lightweight weapons that, though obviously do have an element of strength to them, are generally more about skill and precision. Don't get me wrong, he is a skilled fighter, but strong he is not.

As the Blade of Avernus, if his pact is broken he is impied to become a ranger post-game, and archery, especially good archery, takes a good amount of strength, so he must have at least decent strength by the end of the game, even if his stats don't really change.

10. Weakest - Gale

The wizard? Squishy? Shocker.

Unlike Wyll and Astarion, I think his 8 in STR is more than justified, given he's a spellcaster with limited proficiencies and doesn't wear armour. He also has terrible movement speed, and has no physical endurance to speak of.

In terms of weapons, he is pretty much entirely limited to quarterstaves, which admittedly be quite heavy. Anyone can throw a big stick around, but to do so accurately... yeah, he can't really do that either.

I like to think the only reason he's physically built the way he is, is because of unhealthy weight loss caused by the orb, rather than any sort of actual muscle mass.

[go-see-a-starwar]

THR: Even if you don’t work with someone on camera, there’s still a good chance of bumping into them at Manhattan Beach Studios. Was there a day where you were loitering near set and had an unexpected encounter?

Eman Esfandi: My most interesting encounter was when I was first getting to my stunt rehearsals. They have a stunt gym, and one day, as I was stretching and warming up, I just heard two people going crazy with some choreography. You could hear their sticks and their steps. (Esfandi mimics the sound effects.) And I was like, “Whoa!” It was an explosion of choreography that was a minute long, and when I turned to look around, there was this massive, statuesque man in a gray shirt. I didn’t recognize him off the top of my head, but he was just pummeling one of the stunt doubles that I know. So I went over to watch these guys spar up close, and then I realized it was Hayden Christensen. He’s huge. He’s a towering presence, and he’s so good at this. I didn’t know how good he was, because I hadn’t watched the prequels yet. And so I watched someone in real time who’s been put down in history and in this story for being one of the best with a lightsaber. So I was just like, “Oh my God, this guy is so good.” And then they were like, “Eman, you ready to start?” And I’m like, “Yes! When do I get to do that stuff? That’s my goal now.” So it was really exciting to meet him, and for a lot of other people, that would’ve been an even more insane experience. I just didn’t totally recognize him at the time.

The Hollywood Reporter - ‘Ahsoka’ Star Eman Esfandi Fulfilled His Own ‘Star Wars’ Prophecy: “I’m Going to Play Ezra”

[satoshy12]

Danny learned from the Ghost Writer that other worlds exist, even his favorite world. The Justice League!

However, Ghost Writer has always been hesitant to use his portals to explore other realms. This is due to the immense power and danger lurking on the other side.

Danny's curiosity gets the better of him, and he can't resist using Ghost Writer's portals to go into the DC universe.

Danny was here to have fun, so he decides to dress up as various DC villains, but with his young age, it has an adorable twist: he appears as a tiny child version of them.

To his surprise, Danny realizes that these costumes give him access to the powers of the villains. He seemed to mimic them, like he did in a few of his fights against his enemies attacks.

Like Ghostly wails with Dan or Cloning with Vlad.

And just seeing this would be much more fun! He started his playful journey to meet iconic heroes and villains.

The first one Danny met was the Flash family while dressed as Reverse Flash. He stumbles upon a face-off between Flash, Kid Flash, and the real Reverse Flash. With his childlike innocence, Danny manages to confuse all three speedsters, much to Kid Flash's chagrin. Danny began to tease Kid Flash about a prank he played on him. "It was me, Wally; I shoved the coffee table ever so slightly so that you would stub your toe right before you were sent off to school." "It was me who made your mother and father see your adult magazine!" Thawne laughed as he heard what the boy did. Leaving after Eobard was defeated, leaving very confused Speedsters behind.

Next, Danny decides to become Ares, the God of War. This leads to a comical confrontation with Wonder Woman. Ares is perplexed by how this young boy possesses his godly powers, and Diana is equally confused by the mysterious demigod child.

The one he had most fun was the Ra's al Ghul cosplay, complete with a sword. Danny found himself entangled in a battle between the League of Assassins and Green Arrow with his sidekick Speedy. Ra's was puzzled by this unexpected child version of himself, and Green Arrow can't help but be amused and confused by the whole situation. After the battle, Danny poured the ectoplasm from his bottle on the ground and jumped into it. Which made it look like Green Arrow and Ra's that Danny just jumped into Lazarus water and was swallowed by it.

Sinestro and Hal Jordan were bewildered by the appearance of a child wearing a Yellow Lantern ring. The notion of such a young Yellow Lantern throws them off balance during their battle. Sinestro and Hal Jordan are utterly baffled as to why a child could even wield the power of fear.

Dressed up as the Ocean Master, Danny intervenes in a conflict between Aquaman and Aqualad against the vengeful Ocean Master. Initially mistaking him for Orm's son, Arthur planned to talk with the boy, only for him to leave after the fight.

When Danny dons the Lex Luthor Warsuit, he finds himself in a confrontation with Superman, catching the attention of Lex Luthor. Lex is intrigued by the young boy's capabilities and is somehow proud of him, even though they aren't fighting on the same side. If Lex sees potential in him and contemplates offering some guidance, the boy would go far. The Suit was like his own.

At Last, The Mr. Freeze Costume, Danny intervenes in a showdown between Batman, Robin, and Mr. Freeze in Gotham City. The Caped Crusader is intrigued by this young "villain" and contemplates whether the boy can be taught to use his abilities responsibly. As Danny was just talking about Dr. Victor Fries inventions and theories, Victor saw that the boy had good ideas and theories.

Danny had his fun, and he tried to return home, only for the portal not to work.

He used it many times and had to wait a short time. Well, what are a few days here?

[sunnie-angel]

Part 4: The Plan

part 3 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: one step back, one step forward in this dance with jason’s warring desires for intimacy and distance

tags: swearing, UST, light angst

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.7k

a/n: i’ve never experienced an american thanksgiving so all of my knowledge of it comes from pop culture. this is basically the last of my ‘set up’ chapters, so plot + relationship development is going to really hit their strides starting from here.

Jason is learning to live with the thousand pangs of guilt that go hand in hand with his determination to be your friend and only your friend. Guilt churns his stomach so often that it fades to just another background distraction. Every time you stiffen up when he pulls back, every time you try to catch your face before the disappointment can shine through, he sees it all. He should keep his distance, stop reeling you in close before drawing back unexpectedly, but he can’t quite manage it.

A more recent encounter is still seared into his brain. It plays behind his eyelids as he swims laps around the pool with Rei.

The two of you had been heading to the dinner two blocks off of campus after Duvall’s class, the fiery light of the sunset colouring the worn paths across the quad. Class had been predictably… painful. Reading it for his own purposes or for a group of students to discuss, Frankenstein has always struck a raw nerve. I am thy creature and I will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king, if thou wilt also perform thy part, which thou owest me. Seen and made raw by a woman and her monster years in the past, and isn’t that just the rub? The world spins, new generations live and die and live again to be just as disappointing to the men that created them. Jason’s heart had ached behind his sternum and even the usual balm of your chatter had taunted him with everything he denies himself. He’d made all the right noises, kept his head down and hands jammed into his pockets as the two of you had finally made it to the diner.

“God I almost lost it when what’s-his-name in business started talking.” You’d snorted as you’d opened up your menu, plastic pages clinging together. “Like is it really so hard to have an ounce of empathy? We should start a list of worst takes because that had to be a top five. Jay?” Jason must not have been playing his part well enough because now you’re looking at him, too silent, too caught up on the long stale nickname. “What are you thinking Jay, because I’m thinking pancakes for dinner.” All he could think of is the one and only Dick took him out for pancakes. Begrudgingly. And how it had ended with Dick storming out, suddenly excited about hanging out with the Titans, only to come back disappointed when he had realized he was Jason’s only ride.

“Don’t.” It had come out low and mean, lobbed through gritted teeth like something hot and vicious. Jason had watched it hit you, the way you’d leaned back from the table and hunched your shoulders closer. “Just don’t call me that, yeah?” It had taken concentrated effort on his part to breathe, mimic loosening the tension in his body, to look smaller and non-threatening.

“Oh. Okay, Jason.” Silence had stretched out between the two of you, an almost tangible distance. The words to explain, to apologize and smooth things over had stuck in his throat. The fading light had caught your face for a moment, your face crumpling in hurt before shuttering closed. Your blank face was burned into his mind’s eye just as clearly as all the ways he had not repaired things between you.

Jason surfaces, water sluicing off of his shoulders, before going back under for another stroke. His body takes over the pattern of striking and breathing while his mind returns to the diner. There’s a small animal part at the back of his mind that’s wary of the water. Keeps a small part of him on the look out for any tinges of green to the liquid in the irrational fear that he might also come out of this body of water changed. Actually taking Rei up on his offer to go swimming was in some ways a punishment for Jason, adrenaline thrumming through his veins until his muscles flagged from exhaustion.

Rei is waiting for him at the entrance to the gym, water bottle half empty and lid still unscrewed. His glasses keep sliding down his still damp face but he grins at Jason anyway.

“You sure you’re not looking for a spot on the swim team? Because I’m sure the team captain would get the coaches to make an exception for you.”

Re-shouldering his duffel, Jason asks, “Now why would he do that?”

“I’d do it because I want one last trophy for the relay team.” Rei says wryly.

“No shit?”

“Yeah, I don’t really advertise it because I’ve been doing it for so long that I keep forgetting new people don’t already know I swim. But if you want a spot you’re in. You lapped me like what, four times?”

“Five,” Jason says sheepishly. “Not much of a team player, so I’m gonna have to turn you down.”

“Fair enough,” Rei shrugs. “But I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You probably dodged a bullet though, the coaches are hard asses about not drinking before meets.”

“Yeah, speakin’ of drinkin’, what the hell was in those drinks you made the first night.”

Rei laughs and the conversation takes a more lighthearted turn as they head across campus to the student union. It doesn’t take much to keep the conversation going so Jason has time to turn over Rei’s invitation over in his head. Jason would never have been able to accept — spackling over his extensive scarring for even just today had been a pain — but it had given him hope that maybe even after all his mishaps with you, that he might still be achieving ‘normal’.

Wednesday comes by and Jason makes up his mind to show up the weekly study session. With the Thanksgiving weekend coming up he’s got less work than ever but an even stronger desire not to be alone. Campus has emptied out in anticipation of the long weekend, the student union almost echoingly empty. Lina and Rei are already taking up a bench, sickeningly affectionate and dodging the balled up paper scraps Danika is tossing at them. You sit next to her, rolling your eyes at her antics then egging her on whenever Lina swoops in to leave another lipstick stain on Rei’s cheeks. He hesitates before committing to the seat at the end of the table nearest to you. The fresh loukoumades burning a hole in his bag will have to be shield and apology enough.

He’s nearly there, three feet out from his target, when the sound of a chair getting angrily out of the way diverts his attention. Will is dragging his bike through the field of chairs, cursing up a storm that has even Jason with all of his years in Gotham taken aback. Quite possibly its the most words Jason’s heard Will say out loud in the scarce months he’s known the man. The incongruity of the scene with who Will generally is as a person sends most of table into nervous half laughter.

“Will? Will what’s wrong? The biking parking finally full or something?” You ask, disbelieving.

“What the fuck does it look like?” He snarls, before throwing the bike to the ground in frustration.

“Hey—“

“Will, what happened?” Lina cuts Jason off, uncurling herself from around Rei and leaning forward. Her eyes are wide and searching, and in Jason’s opinion, not suspicious enough for the uncharacteristic rage on Will’s face.

“Some motherfucking cock sucking moron nearly ran me off the sidewalk in their piece of shit gas guzzler. That’s what happened.” He goes to throw himself into the seat next to you but Jason beats him to it, larger frame boxing him out. Throwing Jason an annoyed glance, Will slouches into the only seat left. He brandishes his coat clad arm in front of Lina and Rei, still thrumming with pent up energy.

“Look what they did!” He exclaims.

“I don’t think any of the bandaids in my bag are big enough for that scrape.” Rei says regretfully.

“What— never mind the scrape, look what they did to my coat!” He pulls the fabric tight across his wrist, shoving it under their noses. Rei and Lina give each other confused looks over Will’s head.

“There’s a lose thread?” Questions Danika.

“Yes! Thank you, yes! That idiotic jackass made me scrape up my Loro Piana jacket, do you know how much this costs?!”

“So,” Danika interjects, “won’t your family just buy you a new one and write this off for taxes or something?”

“That’s not— okay that piece of shit not only destroyed my jacket and put my life at risk but he’s also polluting with his mid-life crisis pollutant puker. You know there’s a reason Gotham ranks worst in pollution for cities in New Jersey? It’s thanks to people like that who don’t care that their cars are leaking oil and going knocking people — who are just trying to be nice to the environment — off of their bikes when they were just minding their own—“

“Report it to the police or campus security then.” Jason interrupts, before Will can get into the rant he’s building up steam for. “You got close enough to see the oil leaking, you probably saw the license plate too.” Jason pulls the loukoumades out of his bag and slides them over to you, keeping eye contact with Will the whole while. Will breaks eye contact first, pulling his perfectly intact black wool coat tighter around him before shoving his hands deep in the pockets. You’ve cracked open the container and let out a hum of delight. Will’s eyes dart to the table.

“Didn’t get it. How was I supposed to know that one minute I’d be riding along, and then the next I’d be traumatized for life by some inconsiderate brute?” He sulks. And oh, yeah, not everyone had grown up with B and all of his lessons on paying attention to your environment for evidence.

“Yeah, speaking of trauma, who’s got plans for thanksgiving yet?” Danika asks, mirth and humour her weapon against the atmosphere.

A sharp elbow knocks once into Jason’s ribs. He turns to look down at you, hoping your bid for attention won’t turn out to be disappointing. You meet his gaze with cheeks stuffed full of fried dough and honeyed syrup, eyes narrowed and considering.

“They’re not pancakes, but I thought you’d like ‘em anyway.” Jason says.

You swallow, before beginning to speak in a low voice, letting the flow of conversation continue around the two of you undisturbed. “If this is an apology, there better be more from where that came from.” Your small lopsided smile is sincere, but it doesn’t quite erase the image of your blank face from the dinner from his memory. Nodding, he goes to pull out the second Tupperware container that he’d had the foresight to prepare and you begin to lick the leftover syrup from your fingers. Jason’s vision narrows down to your thumb and forefinger, glistening in the fluorescent lights. He could swear his heart skips a beat when your pink tongue flicks out, his breathing certifiably irregular when you start to suck on your fingers. The image of your lips shiny from syrup will probably be engraved on his second headstone as the cause of death.

“—son, Jason.” Danika’s voice, high pitched and insistent, breaks the moment. He’d be embarrassed at tuning out his situational awareness if he wasn’t also scrambling to answer her half-heard question.

“No plans for me. My family and I aren’t really in a ‘gatherings and gratitude’ place right now.”

“Whoops, we’ll add your family to the off-limits list. What do you usually do then?”

Your phone starts buzzing, and you swear under your breath as you navigate sticky fingers and tight jean pockets.

“I just make a fancier meal than normal, watch the parade on the tv. Not much to it.” He replies off-handedly. He doesn’t mention the extra patrols he’ll do, in anticipation of one of the Rogues deciding to make a splash across holiday headlines.

“Sorry, I’ve got to answer this.” And already you’re trying to climb over Jason to get out from the booth and away from the table. It brings your face closer to his than it’s ever been and Jason would be trying to pin a name to the exact shade of your eyes if it wasn’t for the worry on your face. The nearly empty building means that you don’t wander far from the group. You pace as you listen to whoever is on the phone and play with the charm on your necklace. Will catches on to Jason’s line of sight and rolls his eyes, still sulking in his chair.

“So there’s a whole list, yeah? Things you don’t talk about?” Jason asks, trying to distract himself.

“Oh I wouldn’t call it anything so official.” Lina dismisses.

“No but we totally should!” Fires back Danika. “It would make things sooo much less awkward if Jason knew not to bring up just how much money Will’s rolling in, or the fact that Rei hates talking about the team right before a swim meet, or that when she,” and here Danika lowers her voice and nods in your direction, “plays with her necklace on a phone call fifty bucks says it’s someone from her family.”

“Got it, no askin’ her about the secret phone calls.” Jason says with a tight smile.

“Oh it’s nothing super secret.” Danika leans back into the corner and waves a lazy hand. “Just that most of them were dead set against her doing English instead of some ‘useful degree’ like pre-med or engineering. Don’t know why though, I don’t think’ I’ve ever met anyone that hates calculus more.”

But Jason, Jason thinks he does know why. Puts together the little pieces of your past you’d entrusted to his scarred hands and looks to the shared weft of your past. Looks at a girl whose family had scraped and fought to make a life untouched by poverty in a city that doesn’t easily forgive, and knows that it took luck and bone wearying effort to make it out of the Alley’s clutches. He looks at the girl who is used to being told her opinions don’t matter and yet believing in them anyway, who has put together a path leading right to her dreams even if the detours take her back to the place her family was happy to leave behind. Jason looks around the table at these fresh faced kids in their $6000 jackets and knows that none of them understand the constant, cavernous fear that all of the little luxuries they take for granted will suddenly disappear like morning fog. Jason knows the kind of courage it takes to push past that dogged fear and refuse the path your family pushes you down in order to achieve loftier goals.

The conversation has moved past him now, wrapped in his reverie. Rei and Danika have devolved into the kind of hardline negotiation Jason would have expected to see between seasoned lawyers rather than undergrads.

“C’mon Danika, I know you want a Pinterest worthy friends-giving but it’s just not going to work out this year.” Rei chides. “There’s just no time that’s gonna work for all of us.”

“Yes but it’s our last year when we’re all for sure going to be in the same place for the holiday weekend!”

“Look, we should all be free the Friday after the long weekend. We’ll do another night out, me and Lina will host the pre, and it’ll be our version of friends-giving. I’ll even make turkey themed cocktails if you want.”

“Gross! Fine, fine.” Danika most definitely does not whine. “But make them pumpkin pie themed cocktails instead.”

Jason’s got half an ear on the conversation, but continues to study you as long as his input isn’t needed. You sigh and seem to deflate as your call ends.

“So boys, are you ready to see the damage Rei can do when he’s got his full bar cart with him?” Lina asks, coy as anything. “I’m sure he’ll be able to make something that will even get you dancing, Jason.”

You shuffle around Jason, trying to squirm back into your bench seat. For a brief moment, your thighs bracket his.

“If that’s the plan,” Jason breathes out shakily.

Part 5

[bunabi]

Im glad I'm not the only one who thought Mythal mentioning humans was weird. Veilguard makes me a little sad bc I feel like its full of awesome concepts that aren't executed well and were rushed, leading to stuff like this.

Still enjoying it, it's just a shame after 10 years I guess

Does make me wish we could have seen more of the ancient dwarves though. They were apparently interesting enough the first elves wanted to mimic them but we know nothing except that they're connected to titans. Give me the extended dwarf lore, bioware, pretty please

Real. I still play Veilguard in my downtime because the combat is fun. (People keep saying it's like God of War? Should I play God of War??) But the streamlined, cliff-notes interpretation of Thedas is so rough.

I just wish I wasn't left with this powerless feeling. Veilguard sold to expectations, had mixed-to-positive critical reception, and it was still shelved. The prospects of future DA projects are unclear compared to Inquisition's post-launch where it felt like a given (and we did in fact get three really solid DLC within a year's time).

I love Dragon Age. I want a faithful conclusion or a continuation even if it comes in the form of a comic, a book, an animated short, a storyboard, anything. As a fan: what am I supposed to do? I will keep voting with my dollar if it helps. Send a sign. Let us know.