#ready or not 2019 spoilers

[sad-endings-suck]

One of my favourite specific tropes has got to be murder bride.

[norringtondeservestheworld]

you guys the first part of bridgerton season 3 broke my brain the reason I didn't post anything until now is because it caused me death and now I am reborn from ashes this is the power of polin being canon

[yilinsgarden]

can’t believe it ends in less than a week 🦉

[kcyars520]

I’ll never forgive you for what you did to us d&d

I can and I will blame them

[astonmartinii]

rookie love | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x hamilton!reader

sure it's a rookie mistake to lose it in a corner, but is it a rookie mistake to fall in love with lewis hamilton's younger sister?

request from the lovely @starfriuts

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI?

f1

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,324,772 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, yourusername & logansargeant

f1: welcome the rookie class of 2023 !! 2021 f2 champion oscar piastri will race for mclaren, 2022 f2 champion y/n hamilton will be racing for aston martin and 2022 f2 runner up logan sargeant will be racing for williams!

view all comments

user1: MY prema girlies

user2: 2019 rookies i am so sorry but there's a new favourite in town

yourusername: two hamiltons on the grid i know that's right 💅 👯‍♀️

lewishamilton: they hate us cause they ain't us

yourusername: they can't handle the sass

lewishamilton: neither can the fia

yourusername: ... yeah i've been briefed :(

user3: okay, walk with me. if y/n does all of grill the grid, lewis might do the secret santa again

user4: hopes and prayers

fernandoalo_oficial: i'm teammates with a rookie hamilton, i think i've seen this film before

yourusername: i lived through that old man, don't think i won't use your own tricks on you

fernandoalo_oficial: well there's no dna test necessary here

yourusername: the slay is hereditary, but clearly skipped your generation

fernandoalo_oficial: HEY

oscarpiastri: get her jade

fernandoalo_oficial: EY?

user5: the way the grid are not ready for how ride or die y/n and oscar are for each other

user6: bro just quoted COCO MONTRESE for her i am so ready

logansargeant: dude we're getting the band back together

oscarpiastri: f1 boyband have nothing on us

yourusername: xnda who?

lewishamilton: :/

yourusername: no one is safe sorry lew @charles_leclerc you're next piano boy

charles_leclerc: WHAT

user7: i know the aston martin pr department sweating buckets with both fernando and y/n

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lewishamilton and 1,332,551 others

yourusername: the hamilton name comes with the wardrobe

view all comments

user8: finally lewis has some competition

user9: if there's something a hamilton is going to do it's going to be wearing a monochromatic outfit.

lewishamilton: was the third photo really necessary?

yourusername: yes!

lewishamilton: you're so corny

yourusername: i know this man ain't speaking.... DIGITAL FOOTPRINT

lewishamilton: girl. i've read your diary and your code names don't mean SHIT

yourusername: YOU WHAT?

lewishamilton: got bored when you had a work call ?

yourusername: come to aston's hospitality i got something to show you

lewishamilton: just text me

yourusername: no. spoiler: it's my FOOT up your ASS

user10: so i thought the tussles would be between fernando and y/n not y/n and lewis

georgerussell63: this is just how they are, they'll be besties again in like two minutes

oscarpiastri: why is my outfit not on here you said i slayed :(

yourusername: you did slay !!

landonorris: he literally wore a team shirt and chinos

yourusername: yes but on the oscar scale that is a slay

oscarpiastri: exactly

landonorris: ok?

yourusername: watch your tone mr. norris, you're being awfully loud for a ripped skinny jeans owner 🤨

landonorris: ????

oscarpiastri: :)

user11: okay i think i get the whole ride or die thing now

logansargeant: believe me it gets worse

lewishamilton

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,844,902 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: bucket list moment ticked off to share a podium in f1 with my baby sister !!

view all comments

user14: two hamiltons in f1 and on the podium before gta 6

user15: we got two hamiltons on the podium but still can't escape a max win

yourusername: thank you for not posting the picture of me bawling my eyes out

lewishamilton: i thought i'd be nice, just this once. i'm proud of you

yourusername: thank youuuuuuuuuuuuu. insane to be on the podium with my biggest idol

maxverstappen1: y/n that's very kind of you

lewishamilton: really?

yourusername: 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭

maxverstappen1: saw the opportunity and had to go for it

yourusername: i respect that

lewishamilton: but i am your biggest idol right?

yourusername: yes.

user16: max really out here like i will make a double hamilton podium about me LOL

oscarpiastri: that's my best friend GO BEST FRIEND

yourusername: oscar piastri podium coming soon @mclaren get ur shit together

oscarpiastri: PR KNOW SHE DOESN'T MEAN THAT

yourusername: no i mean every word i wanna be on the podium with oscar :(

oscarpiastri: slumber party ?

yourusername: i'll be there @logansargeant u coming?

logansargeant: i don't really feel like third wheeling

this comment was deleted

logansargeant: if you're buying the room service - yeah

user17: LOGAN WE SAW THAT

user18: y/n x oscar truthers we have some more evidence for the board

user19: gets first woman in f1 on the podium... immediately assumes she’s in a relationship with another driver

user20: i see where you're coming from but watch the prema videos and tell me there's no tension there

user21: idk if oscar can handle all of that ...

user22: i have faith in my goofy lil guy

liked by yourusername

user22: WHAT

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 612,094 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: pookie was on the podium

view all comments

user23: okay you shipper bitches may have had a point...

yourusername: when pookie calls you pookie you know it's real

fernandoalo_oficial: i have never felt older than when i listen to you and oscar talk for more than five minutes

yourusername: the girls who get it, get it

oscarpiastri: and the girls who don't.... well

fernandoalo_oficial: i am a 42 year old man

yourusername: and it shows

oscarpiastri: ... oop

user24: oh they annoying... KEEP GOING

lewishamilton: so this is what you left the after party for?

yourusername: yeah and what about it?

lewishamilton: okay like maybe i need to separate you and oscar cause why are you eating me up

yourusername: i'm me but oscar is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse

oscarpiastri: guilty as charged (i learnt everything from your sister)

user25: you guys acting like oscar being like this is a surprise ... we didn't all see him scalp alpine last summer?

user26: the way in my head him and y/n wrote that tweet together and were giggling the whole time

yourusername: we can neither confirm or deny

user27: that's confirmation to me

logansargeant: when will the logan sargeant erasure end?

yourusername: when you serve as much as me?

logansargeant: i am TRYING

yourusername: plus this is an appreciation post for me, stop trying to steal opportunities from women

logansargent: HUH?

oscarpiastri: so disappointing from you logan...

logansargeant: i'm so done with you two

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,309,562 others

yourusername: summer break is annoying i wanna go racing again

view all comments

user31: WHO IS THAT MAN?

user32: my brain (psychosis) tells me it is oscar

user33: i'll believe you

lewishamilton: HOW DARE YOU SOFT LAUNCH WITHOUT TELLING ME

yourusername: girl. sort the tone and i'll call you

lewishamilton: do you think i am dumb? i know exactly who that is, i just need the confirmation so i can beat his ass

yourusername: why would i tell you if you're gonna beat his ass?

lewishamilton: JUST TELL ME

yourusername: you'll have to find me to do that, see you in zandvoort xxx

user34: i think lewis is having brocedes flashbacks

user35: i know bro is PACING

fernandoalo_oficial: you wanna give me a tow in qualifying?

yourusername: why would i do that old man?

fernandoalo_oficial: @lewishamilton i know.

lewishamilton: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? FERNANDO KNOWS?

yourusername: NOT ON PURPOSE HE'S JUST NOSEY AND LIKES TO READ MY TEXTS OVER MY SHOULDER

fernandoalo_oficial: guilty 💅

yourusername: fine. one tow.

fernandoalo_oficial: thanks girly

user36: we have to study the girlypopification of fernando since being teammates with y/n

oscarpiastri: it's missing pookie hours

yourusername: i am having separation anxiety

user37: these hoes think we don't know 😂

user38: they think they're throwing us on their scent ... YALL NOT SUBTLE

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 802,778 others

oscarpiastri: does this count as a win?

view all comments

user39: sorry max we got an oscar win we don't care about your championship win

yourusername: LET'S FUCKING GO POOKIE

oscarpiastri: slumber party is gonna eat i fear (why do we have to race tomorrow?)

yourusername: you know who else ate? YOU TODAY

oscarpiastri: hehehehe i guess i did

yourusername: no i am so fucking proud of you

oscarpiastri: love you

yourusername: luv you too

user40: okay so they're just playing with our feelings now?

landonorris: proud of you bro (please turn down the beyonce)

oscarpiastri: don't make me enter my lemonade era

landonorris: are you threatening me with a brocedes?

oscarpiastri: maybe?

yourusername: lmao watch your ass lando, i gave him the play-by-play i was in the brocedes trenches

lewishamilton: 1. happy for you oscar 2. SHUT THE FUCK UP

oscarpiastri: oops?

yourusername: sorry lewis, we'll stop joking about britney if you finally call him

nicorosberg: stop calling me that

lewishamilton: why are you here?

nicorosberg: just observing...

user41: poor lewis having his trauma used as a joke 😭

logansargeant: i'm defo skipping this slumber party

user42: you want to elaborate?

logansargeant: no. i don't think i will

user43: JUST SPILL

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,903,448 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: got my first win, me and my boyfriend are better than you x

view all comments

user44: I FUCKING KNEW IT

user45: i'm gonna need all the bitches who came for me for shipping them so give me my flowers

oscarpiastri: finally. you're too cute not to kiss all the time

yourusername: then hurry up and come here

oscarpiastri: gladly

user46: no i think he actually went, these bitches usually never shut the fuck up

lewishamilton: ...

georgerussell63: oscar RUN THE BREATHING TECHNIQUES AREN'T WORKING

alexalbon: no he's actually going to scrap you RUN FOR YOUR LIFE

landonorris: those dumbasses don't know what is about to hit them

yourusername: why is logan texting me 911 who is being dramatic

yourusername: wait

yourusername: is that him already

georgerussell63: yes for such a short man he's surprisingly fast

lewishamilton: OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR

yourusername: no!

lewishamilton: I JUST WANNA TALK

oscarpiastri: your tone is scaring me

yourusername: OSCAR NO

lewishamilton: OPEN THE DOOR

user47: it's been 20 mins, can we have an update

oscarpiastri: i am alive!

lewishamilton: regardless of what just happened, i am so proud of you y/n !!

yourusername: i love you big brother :))))))

lewishamilton: you're such an inspiration, here's to many more!

user48: lewis being all supportive now after he's scrapped oscar?

lewishamilton: i didn't fight him, he had 30 seconds to convince me not to kill him

oscarpiastri: i did very well :)

lewishamilton: sure

yourusername: you did great babe

oscarpiastri: :)

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, yourusername and 1,099,457 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: please don't put me into the barriers lewis, i love your sister

view all comments

user51: i think it's safe to say that the 2023 rookies have out done the 2019 rookie sorry not sorry

yourusername: POOKIE, I LOVE YOU POOKIE

oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU TOO POOKIE

logansargeant: can i like have a medal or some championship points for 1. dealing with this nonsense and 2. keeping this a secret

yourusername: you're our favourite third wheel? that's all i got

oscarpiastri: we also pay for your room service every time

logansargeant: ... fine

user52: they're all so close to me, need y/n and oscar to be the first husband and wife to both win a championship

yourusername: that's the plan 🤞

oscarpiastri: are you PROPOSING TO ME?

yourusername: not yet...

oscarpiastri: hehehehehehe

lewishamilton: SLAM ON THE BRAKES, I JUST GOT USED TO THIS LET'S NOT BRING UP MARRIAGE

yourusername: maybe you need to leave your slag era so i can wife oscar

lewishamilton: DO NOT SLUTSHAME ME

user53: the hamilton piastri house about to be ground zero for the sassy man apocalypse

landonorris: you people are so grossly in love, how did we miss it?

alexalbon: speak for yourself it was so obvious

yourusername: we we're pretty obvious

oscarpiastri: yeah i can confirm that when we told you we were having a pillow fight, we were not

landonorris: WHAT

lewishamilton: delete this.

fernandoalo_oficial: @yourusername did you guys do this so you didn't have to give me a tow?

yourusername: yes xoxoxo

note: i hope you enjoy. life is insane right now but i got my first article at the top of the google rankings so there's that. also ordered my graduation gown and dress!! much love x

[mxstellatayte]

pretty please: chapter one.

pretty please masterlist.

chapter one warnings: lewis lowkey being a sugar daddy, (sex spoilers after this,) legal use of alcohol, consensual sex!!!, lewis is really good at dirty talking lol, lewis has a big dick haha, oral sex (m and f receiving,) multiple orgasms (f receiving,) belly bulge, praise (m and f receiving,) lewis hamilton aftercare king

chapter one word count: 5.3k (3k words of porn tho don't worry)

taglist: @pear-1206 @vivi-81 @irishmanwhore

join my taglist here!

you made me an offer i can't refuse

thursday, 23 may, 2019

you push out a shaky breath, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles in your outfit one last time before stepping out of your hotel room. today is the day you've been both dreading and looking forward to for the past two weeks- the day you interview the one and only lewis hamilton at the monaco grand prix media day.

when you'd been offered the opportunity for a one-on-one interview with one of the most iconic faces in both the fashion and motorsports world, you thought you were dreaming. turns out that the journalist who had originally been assigned to the project had a family emergency and needed time off of work, so the chance to lead the project was yours and yours alone. of course, once you realized that you were not dreaming, you accepted. despite your preparation, you're still terrified. you have ten questions at the ready in your small notebook that you've read over and attempted to memorize approximately twelve times each hour for the past three days, but the practice does nothing to soothe your anxiety.

"fuck it," you say to yourself, inspecting your makeup one last time before slipping your feet into your signature shoes- platform high top converse. once on the streets of monaco, you hail a cab to take you to the circuit, your black and purple media badge secure in your purse. your stomach is twisting with anxiety the whole way there, and when you pay the driver and step out of the cab, it only increases tenfold.

you're about to interview lewis hamilton. no big deal.

yeah.

not a big deal at all.

the next hour and a half is a whirlwind of meeting with lewis' manager to getting your questions checked over to getting a tour of the media center to seeing the recording booth where you're going to be interviewing the driver. it's a nice room, but it's separate from the rest of the media areas, so you assume it's likely not normally for recording podcasts.

"how long do i have before the interview?" you ask, turning to lewis' pr manager.

"about twenty minutes, but lewis is going to be here in ten for soundcheck. make yourself comfortable for now, can i get you anything? water, tea, coffee?"

"a cup of tea would be lovely, thank you." you smile and nod, sitting down inside the booth on the plush couch. in a feeble attempt to quell your nerves, you take your mini notebook out of your bag and go over the questions for the umpteenth time today, but the words on the page blur together as you try to squish down the stirring in your stomach.

"here's the tea for you," someone says, and you're expecting it to be the manager you'd spoken to, but when you look up, you're met with an unfairly beautiful face. oh. okay. this is happening. you're casually accepting a cup of tea from five-time world champion lewis hamilton. the man you're about to interview.

no big deal.

the interview goes by without any hiccups, and, before you know it, your hour in the booth is up, and you say your on-camera goodbyes before they stop recording. as you're about to leave, though, lewis gently touches your upper arm and asks to speak to you for a moment-

only if you don't have something to rush to, of course- and your heart leaps into your throat. had you said something wrong or hit a sensitive nerve with one of your questions?

"i want to thank you. not a lot of reporters are able to ask questions beyond the simple 'how do you plan on winning this weekend' and 'what changes are you going to make based on mistakes made at the previous race,' so i applaud you. your questions were really different from what i was expecting, and your interview style is really unique. i enjoyed talking to you." he extends his hand and you shake it firmly, your chest feeling like it might just explode with pride.

"thank you, mr. hamilton. i'm incredibly grateful for the opportunity to speak with you, and i'm looking forward to any i may have in the future." the driver beams, and you can't help but notice the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. it's annoyingly pretty.

"i won't have any of this 'mr. hamilton' nonsense. call me lewis. after talking to you for an hour, i can tell that you're very knowledgeable when it comes to both motor sports and fashion, which is really impressive. and i look forward to speaking with you in the future, too." the two of you chat for a few more minutes before he's summoned once more, and you bid your goodbyes.

a few minutes later, as you're trying to calm down your heart rate so that you can maintain some small semblance of composure before returning to the outside world, one of your long-time friends from college approaches you from behind, and, in her standard fashion, scares the shit out of you.

"boo."

you shriek, your previous efforts to stabilize your heart rate now entirely in vain. "christ, amelia! do you have to sneak up on me everywhere?"

"absolutely. i also have something to tell you something." your eyebrows furrow as she almost instantly moves on from the fact that she nearly scared you half to death mere seconds ago, but you almost fully pass away by choking on your saliva two seconds later. "you've got it really down bad for him, and you're not subtle about it. at all."

after you're done recovering from yet another near-death experience, you punch her left arm. hard. "you are so lucky i don't have a weapon right now." amelia laughs, her head thrown back and her shoulders bouncing with delight.

"awe, come on." she smiles at you, her eyes glittering in their signature way, signaling that she's about to drag you into a potentially messy and new situation. "you know that the rules state very clearly that there's a zero-tolerance policy for physical or verbal harassment."

i got it bad for you, so baby

thursday, 28 november, 2019.

it's your third time interviewing lewis in the 2019 season, and since you first spoke to him at the monaco grand prix, things have changed for both of you. following the success of your interview with him at the monaco grand prix and the article you wrote to go along with it, you'd been promoted from your previous position as fashion field journalist to the lofty title of fashion and sports researcher and journalist. as soon as lewis hears the news, he's sure to congratulate you, this time at one of the biggest spectacles in motorsports: the abu dhabi grand prix. you can't help but beam with pride when he mentions your new title, thanking him again for his time, and remembering to call him by his first name despite how strange it feels.

"i should be congratulating you on something, as well, six-time world champion," you grin, happy as your friendly banter with lewis seems to fall into place. your first time meeting him, you were so terrified of saying something wrong that you didn't let yourself really let go and show your personality. the second time, in mexico, you were able to relax a little bit more and even crack a few jokes. today, you're all smiles and even got breakfast with him before the scheduled meeting time. one anxiety you'd voiced was that the same paparazzi that you've worked with in the past don't take photos of you with the driver and sell them to the media, which would undoubtedly start a pr disaster for both of you.

"if you'd rather have breakfast in the paddock, i can have that set up," he'd offered, and, once again, who would you be to decline such a kind offer?

so here you find yourself, enjoying an expertly brewed italian iced coffee and two perfectly crumbly strawberry scones, sitting across from the reigning world champion of motorsport.

you know, standard thursdays.

"one thing i don't think i've mentioned before," lewis begins, setting down his cup of tea, "is how much i admire that you try to find the human behind the driver."

your eyebrows furrow. "i don't think i follow."

"i now realize my wording is really weird. let me fix that." you laugh, taking another bite of your scone. "you don't exclusively ask questions about driving. you dig into our hobbies and interests outside of the paddock. in my experience, the way you balance questions for both motorsports and fashion is fascinating."

"it's all part of the job. i wouldn't be where i am without interesting questions, would i?" lewis smiles, shaking his head.

"i doubt it, but you are pretty damn smart. i bet you'd find a way to make it here one way or another."

"i'm flattered."

the conversation continues easily as the two of you finish your breakfast, then, as you begin to prepare yourself to stand and leave, he stops you. "actually, there's one last thing i wanted to do before we went on camera."

your head tilts in confusion as you set your signature lipstick back in your bag, a deep red balm that you've used since you started working at vogue. it's become your trademark product, and almost everyone in the office knows exactly which one you use. "do i need to be worried, lewis?"

"no, not at all! it's this," he says, and your eyebrows rise in complete and utter shock when he pulls out a small box wrapped in white paper and a crimson bow wrapped around it all. "i wanted to get you a gift as a way of saying thank you for all the curveball questions you've thrown at me this year." your hands shake as you take the box from him, and you already know exactly which brand it is. cartier. sure, you've written pieces about their timeless looks and elegant aesthetics, and owning a piece of their jewelry has always been a dream of yours, but it's always been just that: a dream.

"lewis, i can't accept this. i- i'm honestly at a loss for words. seriously, no." you can't help but flush at how he's looking at you, those annoyingly beautiful eyes of his and the stupidly perfect crow's feet that only show up when he really smiles- when he smiles the way he is now. gods, amelia was right. you really are down bad for the driver.

"please, just open it up. if you don't like it, i'll take it back and you can choose something you prefer." he nudges the box towards you once more, and the crisp wax seal that sits on top of the paper is incredibly enticing.

"are you serious?" a part of you wants to think that this is some sick joke, that there's cameras on you and it's all going up on one of those prank channels on youtube. a much, much bigger part of you believes lewis, though. that is the part of you that takes the box between your shaking hands, carefully pops open the wax seal, nimbly unties the beautiful ribbon, and gently unfolds the pure white paper. when you finally open the box, you gasp, tears threatening to well in your eyes. "lewis..."

"do you like it?" his voice sounds anxious and hopeful, and you can't help but realize how much thought he'd put into this gift. when you'd invited him into your office to review some photos that were to go into an article in the next vogue issue a few months prior, he'd seen the vision board on your wall and asked about it. bashfully, you had explained to him that it was a silly idea you had when you graduated from uni with your friends- each of you made one, cutting and pasting photos from pinterest, magazines, newspapers, and anything you could find, assembling your dreams in a mishmash of colors and ideas. one of your dreams on the board had been to own this exact necklace- the cartier juste un clou necklace in white gold. the fourteen diamonds set in the precious metal glitter back at you, and you can't help but smile.

"i love it, lewis. thank you so much." he visibly relaxes, his shoulders loosening and the crease between his eyebrows disappearing.

"i'm glad. here, turn around. let me put it on you?" you happily oblige, lifting your hair out of the way after you stand so that he can fasten the delicate clasp over your spine.

it's safe to say that both his and your fans noticed the necklace hanging between your collarbones, sitting just below the star necklace you wear daily on top of your dark grey high-collared shirt. you try your best not to look at the comments on the videos of your interviews, but amelia had shown you one that day after the unedited interview went up online.

"are they dating or something? i can't get over how lewis looks at her."

sunday, 1 december, 2019

after the race, lewis crossing the line not only in p1, more than 16 seconds ahead of the rest of the grid, but with the fastest lap, as well, you're sure to congratulate him on your social media accounts and in person in the pit lane. "lewis!" his head turns at the sound of your voice, and he sees you moving as quickly as you can down the pit lane, neon green paddock pass hanging from your neck alongside the black and purple media pass. your signature converse and light wash jeans complete your outfit, and his heart swells with joy when he sees that you're still wearing the necklace he gave you.

"hey! i'm glad they let you down here after the race. i was a bit worried i'd have to wring a security guard's neck to get you down here."

"aw, you'd do that for little old me?"

"i'd do just about anything for the most interesting reporter in the paddock," he replies, ever so cocky and so annoyingly pretty. seriously, was he a saint or something in his past life? it feels painfully unfair that he was blessed with such perfect looks and charm. it makes your stomach twist with a flirty giddiness you haven't felt since you were a teenager. it's exciting. "are you coming to the after party?"

"i don't know if i'll be able to. i have a lot to do in the next few days and i honestly don't know if i'm going to be able to take a break on the plane back to london. i'll probably be sitting in my seat going over notes and writing up an article or answering an obscene amount of emails."

"please? just one night? i'll buy your drinks." he bats his eyes at you, and it really shouldn't make you fold as easily as it does, but here you are, sitting in his mercedes and driving to a probably very heinously overpriced club.

a girl needs to be a passenger princess every now and then, right?

when you arrive at the club, you have to force your lips to stay closed so that your jaw doesn't drop in shock and awe. paparazzi swarm you as soon as you step out of the car and lewis hands the keys to the valet, and for a moment, you're convinced this is some sort of sick and twisted fever dream as microphones are shoved in your direction and cameras flash quickly enough to make you glad you don't have photosensitive epilepsy. when lewis' hand rests on the small of your back and he smiles brightly at you, though, you're reassured that this is very much real.

"after you." you smile back at him, your own anxiety lessening just a tiny bit now that you know that he's right there by you.

pretty please, come on over and ruin my life

how did you end up here?

you'll blame it on the alcohol.

either way, lewis' lips feel amazing on yours, and you waddle slightly as he backs you up to the bed in his extravagant hotel room. "need this off," he mutters, hands searching under your shirt and gripping at your waist. your brain is a foggy mess of lust, alcohol, and a lot more lust, and as quickly as you can, you pull back from the kiss (much to lewis' dismay,) tug your shirt out of your waistband and yank it over your head, tossing it somewhere to your right. almost immediately, strong arms wrap back around your torso and you're caged in, and every single one of your senses is flooded with lewis, lewis, lewis. his skin is hot underneath where your hands lay, your right on his cheek and your left clutching the side of his neck as if letting go would result in falling off the face of the earth.

his kisses are messy, desperate, and wet. his tongue glides along your own and you moan wantonly, the noise only further spurring on his efforts. as you lay back against the bed, lewis kisses his way down your chest (when did your bra come off?), lavishing each of your breasts with his tongue and hands. one hand works over your flesh, kneading and pinching while his tongue licks over your right nipple, gently biting and sucking and smirking when you moan once again, switching to the other side. "lewis, oh my god-" you interrupt yourself with an embarrassingly loud whine, your back arching as deft fingers pop open the button on your jeans, unzip the fly, and slip into your panties.

"fuck, darling, so wet for me already," lewis groans, his head buried into your neck as he bites gently at the sensitive skin there. "i'm gonna have to get a taste before i fuck you."

"yes, oh my god, please," you whine, the mere thought of the driver between your thighs making another rush of butterflies flood your lower tummy. you almost laugh when you realize that you still have your converse on and he's struggling with the laces, so you lift yourself up off of the bed and shoo his hands away, instead expertly undoing the white laces in less than ten seconds and kicking them off your feet, leaning back onto your elbows as they hit the ground with a muffled thump. "you are way too overdressed."

sure, you've seen photos of lewis shirtless before, but it doesn't compare to seeing it in person and up close, and...

fuck.

he's beautiful.

"that's not fair."

"what?" lewis laughs, crawling back over you after you both pull your pants off and toss them to the side, and your breath briefly catches in your throat as the scent of his cologne overwhelms your senses.

"you aren't allowed to be nice and hot. it doesn't work like that." lewis laughs, leaning down to press another kiss to your lips that intoxicates you more than any of the high proof alcohols you've drank in the past few hours.

"well, i guess i'm a rule breaker, then." he shuffles you up the bed so that your head rests on the plush pillows, sighing in relief when you think he's finally going to fuck you, but you gasp when he slides his way back down to your thighs, pulls them apart with his hands, and settles between them. "fuck."

"lewis, please. need you."

"what do you need, baby?" he teases as his hands begin stroking up and down your thighs. you're about to respond, but you cut yourself off with a cry when his fingers gently stroke up your panty-covered slit, the sensitivity making your back arch and your hands grip the sheets tightly.

"fucking hell, i... i need you to eat me out."

"i thought you'd never ask." his fingers tug at the waistband of your panties and you lift your hips slightly, just enough for him to slide them off of your legs and add them to the growing pile of clothing on the floor. without wasting a second, he dives into your cunt, tongue dragging along your slit from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and you both moan in unison. his hands grab at the meat of your ass, pulling your hips closer to his face, and you yelp, but it's quickly cut off with another moan as lewis' tongue prods at your entrance, hot and insistent.

"mmgh, lewis, fuck, so good." you barely have any control over your own mouth as lewis eats you out, his tongue expertly lapping up every part of your cunt as if it's the best meal he's ever tasted. he quickly figures out what makes you twitch and moan and focuses on that, his nose bumping against your clit as his jaw hinges open and he swallows you whole. his hands tightly grip your ass, the pads of his fingers digging into the skin and definitely leaving some form of marks to appear later in the night, but that's the least of your concerns when you have the world champion of motorsport between your legs. the moans that tumble past your lips echo off of the bare walls of the lavish hotel room, but not a single noise you make is embellished in the slightest- he's just making you feel that good. the coil in your tummy builds and builds, but your brain has been reduced to mush from pleasure, so you have to resort to scrabbling your hands at whatever you can grab, your fingers ultimately tugging at his neat braids. lewis thankfully gets the hint and only increases his efforts, his left hand moving from your ass to gently push two fingers into your entrance, and, when he curls them upwards, perfectly hitting your g-spot, you nearly sob, your orgasm hitting you a lot sooner than you had anticipated. "oh, lewis, don't stop, please. feels so good, baby, fuck."

lewis helps you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, pulling his fingers out of you and pressing a tender kiss to your hipbone before climbing back up to you and connecting your lips in yet another messy kiss, and you groan when you can taste your cum on his tongue. when lewis' boxer-covered erection grinds against your sensitive clit, your mouth falls open in a gasp, letting him take the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and run against yours. when you kiss him, it feels like you've stepped through the gates of heaven and you're kissing an angel. you suck greedily on lewis' tongue and he moans in response, making you smile into the kiss.

lewis pulls back momentarily and you pout, but the sight before you is absolutely beautiful. his skin glows with a thin sheen of sweat and his lips and chin are covered in a mix of your cum and spit. it's gorgeous. "are you okay with this?"

"more than okay," you grin, leaning up to peck his lips quickly. "it's fantastic."

"in that case, i'd love to fuck you properly..." at his words and the feeling of his lips ghosting down the side of your neck, pressing feather-light kisses along the sensitive skin, you shiver, your hands coming to rest on the sides of his torso. "if you'll have me, of course."

"please do." with another smile, lewis pushes himself up and off the bed, returning promptly with a condom in his hand. you bite your lip and watch eagerly as he pulls down his boxers, and...

fuck.

you're fucked.

"seriously, lewis? are you kidding?" your head falls back with an exasperated laugh, your shoulders shaking as you realize: of course he's big. if he's nice and attractive, then it's almost a guarantee that he's going to have a big dick. "you really just have it all, don't you?" the mattress dips, and you raise your head again, looking back at him as he crawls towards you, almost catlike in his motions.

"i could say the same for you. beautiful, kind, intelligent, an absolutely killer ass..." you scoff and roll your eyes, trying to come up with a cocky response, but your brain short circuits when you feel lewis begin to push the head of his cock into you. "oh, fuck."

"lewis, oh my god," you keen, your hands reaching up and finding purchase on his broad shoulders for stability. his left hand holds your waist while his right grips at your hip, the tightness of his hold almost painful... almost.

"baby, you're so tight. taking me so well. 's like you were made for me." you're pretty sure the words spilling from lewis' mouth are just mindless, sex-brain-induced babbles, but either way, it makes your pussy throb around him, and you both groan in pleasure when his hips finally meet yours. he looks down at you and almost chokes- you look absolutely stunning. your eyes are screwed shut, your lips parted as breathy moans sneak their way past them, and your hair is splayed around your head like a halo.

when you finally manage to pry your eyes open and steady your breathing, lewis is gazing down at you, and you can't help but pull him down for yet another kiss. how many times have you kissed him tonight?

not enough, you decide.

between soft and slow kisses, you breathe out the words that lewis has been praying you'll say: "you can move, lew." when he does, slowly pulling out most of the way before pushing back in, the drag of his cock against your walls makes you shudder, your nails digging into his shoulders and undoubtedly leaving crescent-moon shaped divots in the skin. "oh... oh, fuck, baby."

"you like that, baby? you like having my cock inside of you?"

all you can muster in response is a meek "mhmm," but that isn't enough for him. he grabs your face, forcing you to look at him, and halts his steady thrusts, making you whine.

"use your words. i know you can- you showed me this morning."

"yes!" you sob. "yes, i love feeling you fill me up. i love it, lewis. it feels so good. feels perfect."

"there you go. i knew you could do it." his words make you moan even louder as he resumes his thrusts, this time at a much faster pace. "fuck, look at that. taking me so well... i can even see it. gimme your hand, baby. feel it yourself." he places your left hand low on your stomach, just between your hipbones, and... oh.

oh.

you can feel his dick filling you up under your hand.

"lewis, oh my god!" your moans only increase in volume with his own when he presses down onto the bulge in your tummy with his hand, changing how deeply you feel him, and it sends you hurtling towards your second orgasm of the night embarrassingly fast. "fuck, fuck, lewis, don't stop. feels so good, baby, just like that, yes!" your own hand sneaks around his wrist and rubs circles around your clit, which makes you clench around him, which in turn throws you into your orgasm. "lewis, 'm cumming, 'm cumming, ah!"

"just like that, baby, cum for me. so perfect. so, so perfect." lewis talks and fucks you through your orgasm, his own fingers taking over when yours falter on your clit. when the end of your orgasm trails off, you try to catch your breath, but when your post-orgasmic clarity dawns on you, you realize that lewis didn't cum.

"oh, fuck, lewis... let me suck you off. you didn't cum."

"are you sure? i'm-" he cuts himself off with a grunt, his hips stuttering as he slows his thrusts so as to not hurt you in your oversensitive state, but when you nod, your bottom lip pinched seductively between your teeth, he gives in. "alright, yeah. yeah." he pulls out of you and you roll over, shuffling your way down the bed until you're settled between his legs, your arms resting on his upper thighs.

"you're so pretty, lewis. so, so pretty." if it was a bit brighter in the room, you would've seen the way lewis' mouth ticks open and his dick twitches at your praise, but the singular bedside lamp is barely enough to light the room. instead of noticing, you gently peel the condom off of his cock and toss it in the trash can underneath the bedside table, then settle back between lewis' legs and let a fat drop of saliva leak onto his cock.

"fuck, if you keep saying things like that i'm not gonna last long," lewis groans, his head thrown back into the pillows.

"oh, you don't want to hear me call you pretty? you don't want me to say that you're one of the most beautiful people i've ever laid eyes on, and that i've waited months to be here just to tell you that?" your hand begins lazily stroking his hard cock as you continue rambling shamelessly, your mind a sex-addled haze that you have nearly no control over. after watching in awe as a pearly bead of precum swells at the head of lewis' cock, you decide that enough is enough and that you have to taste him. your tongue falls out of your mouth, the flat of it brushing up the bottom of his dick until you reach the tip, and then you secure your lips around it, and fuck, if having the taste of lewis' cum on your tongue isn't enough to make your eyes flutter shut for a moment, you don't know what is.

lewis' hand finds itself in your hair, pulling gently as you begin to bob your head along the length of his dick, and you can't help but feel pride bloom in your chest when his hips begin bucking up to meet your mouth and hand, shoving the tip so far back you swear the back of your throat might be slightly bruised in the morning. you moan shamelessly as he does so, letting him fuck your mouth as he pleases until he cums, warm ropes of sticky fluid filling your mouth as he spills into you. pulling off, you swallow part of his load and clean what little remains off of his softening cock with gentle kitten licks, smiling faintly as he whimpers quietly at the oversensitivity. after crawling up to the head of the bed and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, lewis' eyes search yours before dipping down to your mouth. you're a bit confused as his left hand comes up to your face, thinking he's going to kiss you again, but instead, his thumb swipes against the corner of your mouth and pries past your lips, a silent order that you obey willingly. you'd missed one tiny drop of his cum on your cheek. his thumb pops out of your mouth momentarily and you collapse down next to him, the exhaustion of the jam-packed day finally catching up to you.

"i'm gonna go grab a towel to clean you up, yeah?" you nod sleepily, a quiet hum escaping your body. "you're staying here tonight. i won't stand for letting you out of my bed for the next twelve hours." this time, if a question mark could be a sound, that's the noise you make. lewis understands you, though. "we'll take my jet. don't worry about your fight." another content sound from you.

by the time lewis returns to the bed, warm damp washcloth in hand, you're asleep, and he can't help but tuck the strands of hair out of your face after he cleans up your swollen cunt and tucks you into the soft bedding, joining you shortly thereafter.

yeah.

he's fucked.

[fireflysummers]

Heroes, Gods, and the Invisible Narrator

Slay the Princess as a Framework for the Cyclical Reproduction of Colonialist Narratives in Data Science & Technology

An Essay by FireflySummers

All images are captioned.

Content Warnings: Body Horror, Discussion of Racism and Colonialism

Spoilers for Slay the Princess (2023) by @abby-howard and Black Tabby Games.

If you enjoy this article, consider reading my guide to arguing against the use of AI image generators or the academic article it's based on.

Introduction: The Hero and the Princess

You're on a path in the woods, and at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a Princess. You're here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

Slay the Princess is a 2023 indie horror game by Abby Howard and published through Black Tabby Games, with voice talent by Jonathan Sims (yes, that one) and Nichole Goodnight.

The game starts with you dropped without context in the middle of the woods. But that’s alright. The Narrator is here to guide you. You are the hero, you have your weapon, and you have a monster to slay.

From there, it's the player's choice exactly how to proceed--whether that be listening to the voice of the narrator, or attempting to subvert him. You can kill her as instructed, or sit and chat, or even free her from her chains.

It doesn't matter.

Regardless of whether you are successful in your goal, you will inevitably (and often quite violently) die.

And then...

You are once again on a path in the woods.

The cycle repeats itself, the narrator seemingly none the wiser. But the woods are different, and so is the cabin. You're different, and worse... so is she.

Based on your actions in the previous loop, the princess has... changed. Distorted.

Had you attempted a daring rescue, she is now a damsel--sweet and submissive and already fallen in love with you.

Had you previously betrayed her, she has warped into something malicious and sinister, ready to repay your kindness in full.

But once again, it doesn't matter.

Because the no matter what you choose, no matter how the world around you contorts under the weight of repeated loops, it will always be you and the princess.

Why? Because that’s how the story goes.

So says the narrator.

So now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about data.

Chapter I: Echoes and Shattered Mirrors

The problem with "data" is that we don't really think too much about it anymore. Or, at least, we think about it in the same abstract way we think about "a billion people." It's gotten so big, so seemingly impersonal that it's easy to forget that contemporary concept of "data" in the west is a phenomenon only a couple centuries old [1].

This modern conception of the word describes the ways that we translate the world into words and numbers that can then be categorized and analyzed. As such, data has a lot of practical uses, whether that be putting a rover on mars or tracking the outbreak of a viral contagion. However, this functionality makes it all too easy to overlook the fact that data itself is not neutral. It is gathered by people, sorted into categories designed by people, and interpreted by people. At every step, there are people involved, such that contemporary technology is embedded with systemic injustices, and not always by accident.

The reproduction of systems of oppression are most obvious from the margins. In his 2019 article As If, Ramon Amaro describes the Aspire Mirror (2016): a speculative design project by by Joy Buolamwini that contended with the fact that the standard facial recognition algorithm library had been trained almost exclusively on white faces. The simplest solution was to artificially lighten darker skin-tones for the algorithm to recognize, which Amaro uses to illustrate the way that technology is developed with an assumption of whiteness [2].

This observation applies across other intersections as well, such as trans identity [3], which has been colloquially dubbed "The Misgendering Machine" [4] for its insistence on classifying people into a strict gender binary based only on physical appearance.

This has also popped up in my own research, brought to my attention by the artist @b4kuch1n who has spoken at length with me about the connection between their Vietnamese heritage and the clothing they design in their illustrative work [5]. They call out AI image generators for reinforcing colonialism by stripping art with significant personal and cultural meaning of their context and history, using them to produce a poor facsimile to sell to the highest bidder.

All this describes an iterative cycle which defines normalcy through a white, western lens, with a limited range of acceptable diversity. Within this cycle, AI feeds on data gathered under colonialist ideology, then producing an artifact that reinforces existing systemic bias. When this data is, in turn, once again fed to the machine, that bias becomes all the more severe, and the range of acceptability narrower [2, 6].

Luciana Parisi and Denise Ferreira da Silva touch on a similar point in their article Black Feminist Tools, Critique, and Techno-poethics but on a much broader scale. They call up the Greek myth of Prometheus, who was punished by the gods for his hubris for stealing fire to give to humanity. Parisi and Ferreira da Silva point to how this, and other parts of the “Western Cosmology” map to humanity’s relationship with technology [7].

However, while this story seems to celebrate the technological advancement of humanity, there are darker colonialist undertones. It frames the world in terms of the gods and man, the oppressor and the oppressed; but it provides no other way of being. So instead the story repeats itself, with so-called progress an inextricable part of these two classes of being. This doesn’t bode well for visions of the future, then–because surely, eventually, the oppressed will one day be the machines [7, 8].

It’s… depressing. But it’s only really true, if you assume that that’s the only way the story could go.

“Stories don't care who takes part in them. All that matters is that the story gets told, that the story repeats. Or, if you prefer to think of it like this: stories are a parasitical life form, warping lives in the service only of the story itself.” ― Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad

Chapter II: The Invisible Narrator

So why does the narrator get to call the shots on how a story might go? Who even are they? What do they want? How much power do they actually have?

With the exception of first person writing, a lot of the time the narrator is invisible. This is different from an unreliable narrator. With an unreliable narrator, at some point the audience becomes aware of their presence in order for the story to function as intended. An invisible narrator is never meant to be seen.

In Slay the Princess, the narrator would very much like to be invisible. Instead, he has been dragged out into the light, because you (and the inner voices you pick up along the way), are starting to argue with him. And he doesn’t like it.

Despite his claims that the princess will lie and cheat in order to escape, as the game progresses it’s clear that the narrator is every bit as manipulative–if not moreso, because he actually knows what’s going on. And, if the player tries to diverge from the path that he’s set before them, the correct path, then it rapidly becomes clear that he, at least to start, has the power to force that correct path.

While this is very much a narrative device, the act of calling attention to the narrator is important beyond that context. 

The Hero’s Journey is the true monomyth, something to which all stories can be reduced. It doesn’t matter that the author, Joseph Campbell, was a raging misogynist whose framework flattened cultures and stories to fit a western lens [9, 10]. It was used in Star Wars, so clearly it’s a universal framework.

The metaverse will soon replace the real world and crypto is the future of currency! Never mind that the organizations pushing it are suspiciously pyramid shaped. Get on board or be left behind.

Generative AI is pushed as the next big thing. The harms it inflicts on creatives and the harmful stereotypes it perpetuates are just bugs in the system. Never mind that the evangelists for this technology speak over the concerns of marginalized people [5]. That’s a skill issue, you gotta keep up.

Computers will eventually, likely soon, advance so far as to replace humans altogether. The robot uprising is on the horizon [8]. 

Who perpetuates these stories? What do they have to gain?

Why is the only story for the future replications of unjust systems of power? Why must the hero always slay the monster?

Because so says the narrator. And so long as they are invisible, it is simple to assume that this is simply the way things are.

Chapter III: The End...?

This is the part where Slay the Princess starts feeling like a stretch, but I’ve already killed the horse so I might as well beat it until the end too.

Because what is the end result here?

According to the game… collapse. A recursive story whose biases narrow the scope of each iteration ultimately collapses in on itself. The princess becomes so sharp that she is nothing but blades to eviscerate you. The princess becomes so perfect a damsel that she is a caricature of the trope. The story whittles itself away to nothing. And then the cycle begins anew.

There’s no climactic final battle with the narrator. He created this box, set things in motion, but he is beyond the player’s reach to confront directly. The only way out is to become aware of the box itself, and the agenda of the narrator. It requires acknowledgement of the artificiality of the roles thrust upon you and the Princess, the false dichotomy of hero or villain.

Slay the Princess doesn’t actually provide an answer to what lies outside of the box, merely acknowledges it as a limit that can be overcome. 

With regards to the less fanciful narratives that comprise our day-to-day lives, it’s difficult to see the boxes and dichotomies we’ve been forced into, let alone what might be beyond them. But if the limit placed is that there are no stories that can exist outside of capitalism, outside of colonialism, outside of rigid hierarchies and oppressive structures, then that limit can be broken [12].

Denouement: Doomed by the Narrative

Video games are an interesting artistic medium, due to their inherent interactivity. The commonly accepted mechanics of the medium, such as flavor text that provides in-game information and commentary, are an excellent example of an invisible narrator. Branching dialogue trees and multiple endings can help obscure this further, giving the player a sense of genuine agency… which provides an interesting opportunity to drag an invisible narrator into the light.

There are a number of games that have explored the power differential between the narrator and the player (The Stanley Parable, Little Misfortune, Undertale, Buddy.io, OneShot, etc…)

However, Slay the Princess works well here because it not only emphasizes the artificial limitations that the narrator sets on a story, but the way that these stories recursively loop in on themselves, reinforcing the fears and biases of previous iterations. 

Critical data theory probably had nothing to do with the game’s development (Abby Howard if you're reading this, lmk). However, it works as a surprisingly cohesive framework for illustrating the ways that we can become ensnared by a narrative, and the importance of knowing who, exactly, is narrating the story. Although it is difficult or impossible to conceptualize what might exist beyond the artificial limits placed by even a well-intentioned narrator, calling attention to them and the box they’ve constructed is the first step in breaking out of this cycle.

“You can't go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it's just a cage.” ― Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad

Epilogue

If you've read this far, thank you for your time! This was an adaptation of my final presentation for a Critical Data Studies course. Truthfully, this course posed quite a challenge--I found the readings of philosophers such as Kant, Adorno, Foucault, etc... difficult to parse. More contemporary scholars were significantly more accessible. My only hope is that I haven't gravely misinterpreted the scholars and researchers whose work inspired this piece.

I honestly feel like this might have worked best as a video essay, but I don't know how to do those, and don't have the time to learn or the money to outsource.

Slay the Princess is available for purchase now on Steam.

Screencaps from ManBadassHero Let's Plays: [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

Post Dividers by @cafekitsune

Citations:

Rosenberg, D. (2018). Data as word. Historical Studies in the Natural Sciences, 48(5), 557-567.

Amaro, Ramon. (2019). As If. e-flux Architecture. Becoming Digital. https://www.e-flux.com/architecture/becoming-digital/248073/as-if/

What Ethical AI Really Means by PhilosophyTube

Keyes, O. (2018). The misgendering machines: Trans/HCI implications of automatic gender recognition. Proceedings of the ACM on human-computer interaction, 2(CSCW), 1-22.

Allred, A.M., Aragon, C. (2023). Art in the Machine: Value Misalignment and AI “Art”. In: Luo, Y. (eds) Cooperative Design, Visualization, and Engineering. CDVE 2023. Lecture Notes in Computer Science, vol 14166. Springer, Cham. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-43815-8_4

Amaro, R. (2019). Artificial Intelligence: warped, colorful forms and their unclear geometries.

Parisisi, L., Ferreira da Silva, D. Black Feminist Tools, Critique, and Techno-poethics. e-flux. Issue #123. https://www.e-flux.com/journal/123/436929/black-feminist-tools-critique-and-techno-poethics/

AI - Our Shiny New Robot King | Sophie from Mars by Sophie From Mars

Joseph Campbell and the Myth of the Monomyth | Part 1 by Maggie Mae Fish

Joseph Campbell and the N@zis | Part 2 by Maggie Mae Fish

How Barbie Cis-ified the Matrix by Jessie Gender

[sorenflyinn]

FOAMING IN THE MOUTH LIKE-- FINALLY AN AUTHOR WITH REQUESTS OPEN AND WRITES FOR OUR KING SHOJI!!!!

*ahem* I'm just really excited and hyped-

idk if you rather write this as a oneshot or a headcannon, it's up to you!

How about a telekinesis reader (think of tatsumaki from OPM) who is known to be dating shoji. Like-- the scene here is when shoji tells the whole class about his past like in the manga. Reader is someplace else when his history/face reveal happened. Mina or any of the girls in the class, out of curiosity and care for their friends, asked if reader already saw his face and all. And he's like-- 'Yeah and y/n had a VERY different reaction to it than all of you here.' and the whole class became like low-key angry till he laughed and explained how reader had the most perfect response to his reveal.

Because when he showed his face to reader, reader looked at him sadly while caressing the scar on his face and started saying like "Oh Mezo, what happened? This must have been painful *smiles sadly at him* but even with the scar, I still love you."

Cue Mezo malfunctioning. Because this bitch fr thought he was wearing a mask to hide his scars like 😭 'Im using this mask to hide my face in general???' Like he has to make sure and tried explaining and reader is like- "Huh? Scary? You??" Like-- that's why reader's reaction was his favorite so far. It was not out of fear or pity- it was anticlimactic turned romantic. (Reader probably already had seen too much in the hero field to be phased anymore lmao)

Sorry this got long-- I'm a deprived mezo fan since 2019. And only started brainrotting now when authors and content creators started giving him some love 💕

FOCUSED ON THIS SO HARD AS SOON AS I SAW THIS WONDERFUL IDEA SO I HOPE IT’S HOW YOU IMAGINED 🫶

IGNORING PREPPING FOR FINALS WITH THESE BUT IT’S WORTH IT 🤭

Shoji x gn!reader

a oneshot on how y/n reacts to seeing shoji’s face for the first time (along with class 1-a)

This contains manga spoilers, so read if you’d like

Mezo was worried about doing this without you, his girlfriend, there with him, but he said he would do it, so he’ll follow through with it.

When Aizawa asked for your help in regards to Eri’s power, Mezo decided that it was time to reveal his face to the rest of the class. He didn’t want you caught up in the trouble that might occur with their reactions.

As everyone sat in the main room, he took his mask off, bracing himself for his reactions before telling them all his story.

As he explained it all, their reactions were around the same, shock and horror painting their faces before they all went to hug him.

After a moment of silence, Yaoyorozu spoke up, “Have you shown Y/N yet?”

“Yes I have, and they had a very different reaction to it than you all did.”

All of their eyes widened in shock at what that could mean, and as Shoji realized they were taking it the wrong way, he corrected them, “No, no, they didn’t react badly, they just..”

~~~

You and Mezo were in your room, him fidgeting constantly as he sat on your bed next to you, watching you practice your quirk on different things around your room.

Just as a pencil floated into your hand, you looked over to him, a worried look on your face, “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been fidgeting a lot.”

He turned to you before diverting his eyes, nerves filling him after each second. Taking a breath to calm himself, he looked back at you, “I was thinking.. I’m ready.”

You blinked, “Ready for what?” After a moment you realized, your eyes lighting up in glee, and you gasped, “Really? Are you sure?”

He smiled at you, albeit, under the mask, but you could see the corners of his eyes crinkle a bit which was a telltale sign for you, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Turning his body towards you fully, he took a deep breath as you did as well. You smiled gently before taking one of his big hands in your own, “Take your time, love.”

He squeezed your hand gently before letting go, his hands going up and lowering his mask. The bundle of nerves in his stomach seemed to quadruple, only for it to melt away as he felt your hand gently cup his cheek.

“Mezo.. what happened?” You gently rubbed your thumb over his cheekbone, “This must’ve been painful.. but even with the scars I still love you.”

It took him a moment to realize, but those words along with how you looked at him showed that you didn’t even realize that the shape of his face was different, and instead you thought his reason for hiding his face was the scars.

“N-No, I don’t hide my face because of the scars, it’s because of.. well, people always told me my face was scary..” He averted his gaze away from you.

“Wh- huh? ‘Scary’??” Bringing your other hand to his face, you brought his gaze back to yours, “All I see is an absolutely gorgeous man, I don’t see anything about you that I would consider ‘scary’.”

After a few moments of looking into each other’s eyes, Mezo’s arms were hugging you to him tightly. No words were spoken as you sat like that in his arms, calmness finally washing over his worries as if they were never there.

“Thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for, Mezo.”

Pulling back, he looks at your lips then back to your eyes, and you nod softly with a small smile. Slowly leaning in, you share a soft kiss.

Bliss fills both of you as you pull back, going back to hugging as he lays back with you on top of him, your weight relaxing him as he feels the exhaustion of worrying catching up to him, causing him to fall asleep on your bed.

~~~

As he finished retelling the story, he looked up at his classmates who all had tears in their eyes as Mina was the first one to speak, “That- *sniff* was such a cute story.”

Right as she blew her nose, you opened the door to the dorms, slightly shocked to see everyone sitting in the main room, and even more, that they were all looking at you.

“I’m guessing I missed something important?” Looking over to your boyfriend, your eyes widened as you saw him without his mask on in front of them. He smiled at you softly, to which you reciprocated instantly, “It seems I did.”

Walking over, you start to see that all of your classmates have tears in their eyes which cause you to worry, looking between them and Mezo. “As much as I’d like to be caught up to speed, I should really go to be-”

You were cut off as Mina and the rest of the girls jumped and hugged you as Ochaco said something about how adorable that story was, but you didn’t think you heard correctly.

Stuck in their grasps, you struggled out a, “Ok, nevermind I’ll just stay here then.” Before hugging them all back.

[apolloscastellan]

From one kiss to getting married | loss of my life chapter 5

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig x FemaleTennisPlayer!reader

Summary: Your life had always been divided in two: before you met Tashi and after you met Tashi. The second you had laid eyes on her for the first time you knew you had been changed. You were soulmates, meant for each other Nothing could ever tear you two apart, or so you had thought. You could've pinpointed the junior U.S. Open as the night that changed everything. Now you have to juggle your hate-love relationship with tennis with your love-love relationship with Tashi and the two guys who you can't seem to stay away from. Tennis, after all, was only one of the most fucked up relationships of your life.

Warnings: challengers spoiler, challengers content warnings, super minor character death, terrible mother figure, use of y/n, polyamory.

Word count: 4.6K

A/N: I have to be honest i've been trying to put this one off for as long as I could because this is the end of the series. I am not ready to let these four go just yet so if you have any suggestions for scenarios in this universe(or any other) please please leave a request! Hope you like this one<3

series masterlist | prev

New Rochelle, New York. August 23, 2019:

It’s three a.m. by the time Patrick stumbles through the door. He doesn’t expect you to be awake, much less sitting on the bed, waiting for him. He really should’ve, though.

“Hey” he says, like an idiot.

“Where were you?”

He thinks about lying for a second, but he doesn’t keep any secrets from you. You don’t keep any secrets from each other. Open communication, it’s what you had agreed on. You and your mutual therapist had both agreed that it was the only way you were ever going to make it work. Patrick was just glad to have been given a chance.

“I was with Tashi” you nod, but you don’t say anything. “We had sex.”

“I assumed.”

“She asked me to throw the match so Art can win. She said he needed it.”

You look at him, expectantly.

“What did you say?”

“I said I’d do it.”

“It would break him if you beat him again right now,” he nods, slowly. “And you love him.”

“And I love him.”

“He made you cry.”

“Tashi made you cry. You still love her.”

“Yeah, but you were angry at her for years, so I think I’m entitled to be angry with Art for a little bit.”

“You don’t care, do you?” he makes his way towards the bed, crawling until he is right in front of you. “About me losing?”

“The only thing I care about is that you don’t injure yourself again and we can play in the U.S open.”

“So you don’t care that people will say that I’m a mess and you should’ve never given me a chance?

“Baby,” you say, holding his head in your hands, “you are the only one who cares about that. I love you, and I love playing with you. I don’t give a fuck if you embarrass yourself playing some stupid challenger.”

“Really?”

“Well, maybe I care a little if you embarrass yourself, but it’s because I know you, and I know you can do much better. Plus, Art will never believe he truly beat you if you don’t even try. But I don’t care about what people say, okay?”

He smiles, for the first time all night. You do too. You kiss him, trying to wash away the guilt you feel. You still haven’t told him. For a person who wears her heart on her sleeve, you are proving yourself to be very good at keeping secrets. You don’t like it. You hate keeping secrets from him.

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

Art Donaldson: 2-6-5-40

Patrick Zweig: 6-2-5-40

The ball goes over the net, over, and over again. You look at it but you don’t see it. You can’t tell who hits it each time. You want to stand up, run away. You don’t. You sit, quietly. You fake content, fake interest. You pretend you don’t see Tashi looking at you. You pretend you don’t care if she is. Your breath catches on your throat. You feel like you’re about to throw up.

New Rochelle, New York. August 23, 2019:

You make your way to the hotel bar the second Patrick falls asleep. You need something strong, and even though you know you won’t drink, you can’t, you think maybe the atmosphere will take some of the pressure off your shoulders. You’re wrong. You don’t know what you expected to find there, but it was definitely not Art Donaldson, nursing a glass of whiskey, looking dejected. You try to turn around, run away before he sees you, but it’s too late.

“Y/n,” he says, breathless, standing up.

You should walk away. Take the elevator back to the third floor, walk into your room. You should lay beside Patrick, fall asleep, pretend this never happened. But you don’t, you walk forward until you’re standing face to face with Art. You look into each other’s eyes. Neither of you says anything. Then, he pulls a stool close to his own. You both sit down.

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

You can feel him giving up. No one else will notice, but you know his game better than your own. You don’t know if it makes you sad, angry or proud. Maybe all of them, maybe none. There’s so much inside of you that you wonder if you are feeling anything at all. You hold your breath as he lets Art get an ace and win the set. He looks back at you. You don’t know whether he is asking for permission, or forgiveness, or both. You nod and smile softly at him anyways. You could never deny him of anything, even if you don’t know what he is asking for.

New Rochelle, New York. August 23, 2019:

“Let me buy you a drink,” he says, raising his hand to call the waiter.

You stop him with a hand on his shoulder. He looks back at you, confused.

“I can’t drink.”

“Well I shouldn’t be drinking either, I am the one with the match tomorrow. C’mon, I won’t tell your coach”

“No, Art, I can’t drink,” you say, looking at him pointedly.

He finally gets it. It stops him in his tracks. He looks at you, then down to your stomach, then back to your face, as if trying to figure out if you’re saying the truth.

“You’re… Are you…?” the question lingers, unfinished, but you know what he means, you nod. “Well, fuck. This is good news, right? Congrats”

He tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. He doesn’t understand the pit in his stomach. He smiles, but it comes out like a grimace.

“Art you can’t tell anyone, nobody knows. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

His eyebrows shoot up.

“Patrick doesn’t know?”

You shake your head and look around. You can feel the guilt settle inside you, present as it has been for the entire week.

“He has enough on his plate right now, he doesn’t need this to add to it.”

The fact that Art and Tashi have a lot to do with that goes unsaid. You both know, anyways.

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

He wins the first two points of the next set. He looks back at you. He is doing it for you, you know. He is trying to redeem himself for what he’s about to do. It hurts you, not because you care at all about this game, or any other. But because you can’t stand the thought of him proving everyone who didn’t believe in him right. Including the woman sitting next to you and the man across the net from him. You understand why he is doing it, though, you would’ve done the same thing. At the end of the day, Patrick and you are the same, two sides of a coin, it’s what makes your relationship work after all.

New Rochelle, New York. August 23, 2019:

“Patrick and Tashi had sex tonight” he says, after a couple seconds of silence, rushing through his words.

You deserve to know, especially if you’re having Patrick’s child. He expects you to be shocked, to deny it. He even expects you to cry, or scream at him. He expects everything but the nod you give him.

“I know,” it comes out like a whisper.

“You know?”

“Yes, Art, Patrick and I don’t keep secrets from each other,” it’s a jab at him and his own relationship, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“And you’re ok with it?”

“Is this where you want to have this conversation?” you look around, but the bar is completely empty, even the bartender is gone.

“This is as good a place as any.”

“Then, yes, Art, I am ok with Tashi and Patrick having sex. Are you?”

He looks at you, dumbfounded. He doesn’t answer your question.

“Why the fuck are you with him?”

“Why the fuck are you with Tashi?” you throw back at him, when he doesn’t answer, you do. “Because I love him,” it’s simple, really, but Art doesn’t seem to get it.

“You deserve so much better than him.”

“I don’t know anyone better than him.”

Me, Art wants to say, I would never cheat, I would never make you quit, I would treat you so much better than he can. It isn’t true, not really. He had had his chance and he didn’t treat you any better. He hadn’t cheated, not physically at least, but he hadn’t been a great boyfriend. Maybe that’s why it bothers him so much, because you seem to be ok with Patrick not being any good, but not with him messing up. It’s his fault, he knows, he never reached out. Maybe if he had you would’ve given him a second chance. The thought does nothing but make him more angry.

“This is ridiculous,” you scoff out, your shoulders tense. “You and Tashi think you know so much. About me, about him, about relationships and each other, but it’s not true. You don’t know shit. Not even about yourselves. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so sad. You can’t even be honest with yourselves, let alone each other, and you keep pushing your insecurities onto us. Patrick would’ve never slept with Tashi if he hadn’t known I would be ok with it,” Art has never seen you this angry, but he doesn’t know what to do to stop it. “I’m tired of the both of you acting like you’re so much better than us, than him. You don’t know either of us anymore and it’s no one's fault but yours, so learn to live with it. I’m done with you two, so, unless you are going to learn to deal with whatever internal shit you have going on, leave us alone”

“Y/n…”

“Good luck tomorrow, Art. Good night,” you turn around, not allowing him to say anything else.

Patrick is still asleep when you make it back to your room. He is sprawled all over the bed. You lay on his chest and let his arms engulf you. You let his heartbeat and soft breathing lure you to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

This is it, you tell yourself as Patrick serves straight to the net twice in a row. You shake your head. You almost don’t want to look. You want to reach over and squeeze Tashi’s hand like you did whenever you watched a movie that was slightly too scary for you, but you can’t. You haven’t been allowed to seek comfort from her in that way in a long time. It’s match point, you realize only as the umpire calls it. You look at Patrick, and although you try to keep the sadness off your face, you’re not sure you do a good job. He smiles sadly at you and you nod. He looks at Tashi, you can feel the wheels turning in his head. You’re not sure why, but you have a feeling he is about to do something stupid. You feel Tashi squirm next to you, she is just as nervous as you are.  It’s comforting to know that you’re not alone.

Patrick goes over to his spot. He makes the ball bounce once, twice, three times. He goes into his serving motion and then…

“Out!” a line judge calls.

He shakes his head, pretending to be frustrated. His eyes never move from your direction as he walks back to his serving spot. You can’t tell if he’s looking at you or Tashi. You try to find it in yourself to care, you can’t. He looks at Art, then, and he smirks. Now you’re sure he is about to do something stupid. He bounces the ball once, then picks it up. He is stalling. You can see the indecision sweeping off of him. He looks up, straight at you. He is asking for permission, you realize. You nod, subtly, you trust him. He nods back, then looks back down. He goes into his serving motion, but he never throws the ball.

“Time violation, warning, Zweig,” the umpire’s voice rings through the speaker.

You don’t understand what’s going on. He looks at you again, still unsure. You roll your eyes playfully. Honestly you just want to go home at this point. You look at him, not moving. He needs to make a decision, and he needs to make it now. You’re never going to let him live it down if he loses this match because of a time violation.

He breathes in deeply, then out. He bounces the ball once, twice, three times, four times. But when he picks it up, instead of going through his serve, he places it on the neck of his racket. Then he serves, normally. Art doesn’t even try to hit it back.

“Deuce”

You frown, confused. You have no idea what just happened. Patrick smirks, cocky, then nods. Art scoffs.

“Fuck off!”

“Code violation, audible obscenity. Point penalty, Donaldson. Advantage, Zweig”

Art looks at you. For some reason, you’re completely sure he is thinking about the same thing you are. Your conversation last night. Recognition flashes through his face and you can see the exact moment he understands what you had been trying to tell him. He turns around, away from the court, but his eyes never stray from you. He looks down after a couple seconds of eye contact. His racket hits his leg repeatedly.

“Art?” the umpire calls, he doesn’t move.

“He can serve” it’s a bold move, you almost want to stand up and clap, you don’t know why.

“You need to get into position” the tone of voice leaves no room for argument.

Art looks up at you again. You don’t know what he wants from you but like you did for Patrick you nod anyway. It seems to work, because he gets into his position without waiting a second.

“Serve” he asks Patrick, but he is standing straight, absolutely not ready to receive.

The ball Patrick hits his way is a gift, low, with no real force behind it. Art doesn’t move. Patrick just won the set. It’s time for the tie break, you realize, and even though you could see it coming, it still shocks you. It had been his own doing, in a way you’re not sure you understand just yet, but Patrick looks as shocked as you feel as he gets ready to receive.

You can feel your heart thump in your chest. Art is expressionless as he serves the ball, harder than you have ever seen him serve. It goes straight for Patrick. He has to dodge to the side to avoid getting hit in the head. Someone screams at the top of their lungs and it takes you a second to recognize it’s Art. Then, like nothing has happened, they smile at each other. You must be crazy, because you smile too. 

It’s exhilarating, the way Art serves and Patrick is perfectly positioned to hit it back. They rally against each other. You can feel your heart as if it was trying to run away from you, into the court, where it belongs. Without thinking about it you reach out your hand. You don’t know what you are doing until fingers interlace with yours and it hits you, like a brick to the stomach, that you are holding hands with Tashi Duncan for the first time in thirteen years. You don’t look at her, you can’t and you don’t need to. Both of your heads move from one side of the court to the other, following the ball. You’ve never seen tennis quite like this. Patrick is playing better than you’ve ever seen him play. Art is playing better than you’ve ever seen him play. It’s addicting, thrilling, intoxicating. It’s everything tennis is supposed to be. It’s everything you haven’t realized you’ve been missing until now. You squeeze Tashi’s hand one, two, three times. Her response is almost immediate, squeezing your hand right back. 

It feels like the entire place is holding their breaths. Nobody is moving at all. The only thing you can hear is Art and Patrick’s grunts. You’re getting chills. They get closer together, slowly as the fight goes on. Each hit more precise, each backhand more powerful. You would be upset that you can’t be on the court, right in the middle of the action, if you couldn’t feel Tashi’s heartbeat through the hold she has on you. Both of your hands are now intertwined with hers and God, you’ve missed her. It all happens so fast, and somehow it still feels like slow motion as you watch Art jump to hit the ball, right next to the net. There’s no doubt in Patrick’s face as he drops his own racket and launches himself forward, arms first, to catch him as he falls down. You don’t see if the ball Art just hit goes in, but you don’t care either way. You jump off your seat as the two boys fall into an embrace over the net. Your own arms are now around Tashi’s shoulders, hers around your waist. You must look crazy to everyone watching but you can’t bring yourself to care. You are very glad Tashi doesn’t seem to be able to either.

“Come on!” The scream rips off your chest with an adrenaline that you only ever get on the court after a particularly hard earned and satisfactory win.

You don’t know what, but you feel like you’ve won. You smile, brightly and unashamedly, uncontrolled. From the corner of your eye, you can see Tashi smile too. Your entire body is vibrating from excitement and you can’t tell if it’s you or Tashi who is shaking, maybe both of you are. You haven’t felt anything akin to this since the last time you played doubles with Tashi, you don’t wanna let the feeling go. You still feel giddy as you sit back down, still holding on to Tashi tightly as the two boys continue to play. You’re pretty sure that Art wins, just barely, but you can’t really recall how or when. Tashi and you are on your feet immediately, clapping and cheering as they embrace each other again over the net. They whisper into each other’s ears and you would be upset at not knowing what they are saying but then the woman next to you is leaning over and whispers in your ear and your breath leaves your lungs:

“You wanna meet them in the locker room? We have a lot to talk about.”

You nod and you let her guide you, pulling you by your hand through the stands and a series of halls and corners. She’s always been the one who took control, your guiding light through the darkness, and you couldn't be more grateful for that now. You feel almost drunk on the events of today and you have no idea where you’re going and, if you’re being honest, you probably couldn’t get to where you came from by yourself either. She stops in front of a door you’ve seen before, it’s a generic white locker room door and it has a card with Art’s name taped on the side. You open your mouth to tell her you have to go look for Patrick but she is knocking on the door before you have the chance to say anything.

“You better be decent in there, because we’re coming in!” she calls through the door, not waiting for an answer before she pushes it open

You have the good mind to lock the door behind you as you giggle softly to yourself, even if they weren’t decent, it’s not anything you and Tashi haven’t seen before. You wouldn’t get much talking done, though, if that was the case. Thankfully they’re both full clothes, staring at the two of you mouths slightly agape. They look caught, even though they’re standing a decent distance apart from each other and they were probably not doing anything but stare at each other. It reminds you of that night, at the hotel room, and how they had looked at you after realizing they had just kissed. You can’t help the smile on your mouth. And then, Tashi speaks:

“I’ll do it” it’s the first thing she says. She is looking at Patrick, who looks back at you worriedly. “I’ll be your coach.”

Both you and Art are equally confused. You raise your hand, as if asking for permission to speak at school.

“I’m sorry, what’s going on?”

Patrick looks down guiltily before he mumbles his response.

“I asked Tashi to be our coach for next season, since ours is retiring.”

“When was this?”

“I don’t know, Wednesday maybe?” he looks at Tashi for confirmation who nods slowly, even though her eyes are locked on yours.

You want to be upset that he hadn’t told you, but you have no right to. You look back at Art, recognition flashes through his face. He swallows, looking around before you direct your gaze back to Patrick who’s already looking at you, brows furrowed.

“Patrick, I won't be playing tennis next season. I’m retiring”

“I’m sorry, what?” Patrick laughs, but there’s no humor behind it, his smile drops off his face when he realizes you’re not joking. “Why not?”

“I think you need to sit down for this” you say gently, a hand on his shoulder as he follows your directions.

He can feel his heart stop in his chest. He knew it couldn’t all be good. Just when he thought he was finally getting Art and Tashi back, you were going to leave him? He holds his breath as he tries not to cry. You look back at Art for barely a second before you speak.

“Pat, I’m pregnant” 

He doesn’t understand what you mean for a second. His mouth drops open and he looks back and forth from your stomach to your face. But it’s not him who speaks:

“You’re what?” Tashi’s voice comes from behind you.

“Pregnant” you repeat, your voice soft. “I only found out at the start of the week and I was going to tell you but I thought you had enough going on” you try to explain yourself signaling around you with your hands.

“I’m gonna be a dad” his eyes are wet as he reaches out his hands, one caresses your face, the other lands on your stomach softly.

You nod, a smile on your face as you realize he is not angry at you.

“Well I guess we’re even then, at keeping secrets” you can’t help but giggle softly at his words.

“No, there’s one more thing” you’re shocked to hear Tashi’s words and you turn to look at her expectantly. “Well, there’s a lot of things we need to talk about but I mean whatever the hell was going on on the court, at the end, when you finally served like a normal person” she finishes, pointing at Patrick who starts laughing almost hysterically.

“I just told him what you and I got up to last night” he says simply, as he shrugs his shoulders.

“What?” Tashi looks as confused as you feel, although it’s probably for very different reasons.

“When we were at the academy” Art starts. “I tried to bug Patrick into telling me whether you guys had slept together or not, but he said you had threatened him to not say anything. I told him he could give me a signal instead, like a loophole, and that signal was to serve like me. So when he did it today, I knew what he was trying to say”

“How is that groundbreaking news to you though?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“That his wife and best friend slept together?” Patrick looks back and forth between the two of you.

“You knew,” I say, still looking at Art. “You knew this happened last night so how was this news?”

“It wasn’t” he finally admits, a sly smile on his face.

“You knew?” Tashi’s mouth drops open.

“Tash, I love you, but you’re not particularly good at hiding your cheating” he says, almost playfully.

You get brought back to Atlanta, to Art’s face as he stepped out of the elevator, and you realize he had figured out what had happened then.

“I was shocked that Patrick would be cocky or blunt enough to actually tell me, I shouldn’t have been, but…” Art is now looking at you. “You never did… And Tashi didn’t either. But then I got hit by what you said last night, about figuring out our internal shit, about how you didn’t care if Tashi and Patrick slept together. I realized… I don't care either. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d be pissed if she slept with anyone else, but you two… I’m kind of ok with it.”

You nod, smiling, understanding. When you look around the room, you can see Patrick smile too, Tashi looks determined. You almost can’t believe it. Your eyes meet Patrick’s and his smile turns even brighter, something you didn’t know was even possible. It’s everything the two of you have delusionally fantasized about. Everything you never really thought you could have.

“I think the two of you need to shower” you say, pointing between Art and Patrick. “Then you can come to our room and we can keep talking, but no funny business until then” you finish, an accusatory but playful look in your eyes.

The two guys laugh as Tashi shakes her head and pulls you out of the room by your arm. You are both leaning on the wall when she speaks again, her head firmly stuck looking forward, refusing to meet your eye.

“I’m sorry. For how I treated you after I got injured. It was not your fault, it had nothing to do with you. I wish I could go back in time and slap my younger self for being so fucking careless with the best thing in our lives.”

A watery laugh comes out of her mouth. When she finally gathers the courage to look at you, your eyes are already fixed on her. You’re biting your lip, fighting back the tears as you let a small smile spread through your face.

“Thank you” your voice comes soft, an almost inaudible whisper.

The two of you throw yourselves into each other’s arms. It feels different that it did at the game. There’s less adrenaline, more honesty. It’s just you and her, like it’s always been. It feels like no time has passed as you let her scent envelop you again, it’s the same brand she’s always used. And yet, your body knows it’s been too long, you feel like an addict who has been on withdrawal for too long. You don’t think you’re gonna be ok with ever letting her go again.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Lilly,” she says, her voice honest, “she’s going to love you.”

You let yourself cry on her shoulder and, as hers shake, you realize you’re not the only one with tears in your eyes. It’s so painfully obvious to you that nothing mattered. The time, pinning, suffering and waiting, none of it matters. It brought you here, to each other’s arms, to your boys. You would do it all again, a million times, if it always ended with the four of you walking out and into a taxi. Art and Patrick tease you and Tashi for your tears, you excuse yourself in pregnancy hormones and an exhilareted Patrick pulls you into him so he can kiss you. Art, from the passenger seat shakes his head and asks you to have some decorum, at least until you get to your room. You laugh, in the taxi and all the way up the stairs. You laugh, and cry and you’ve never been happier. It’s not perfect, but it’s exactly what you needed and you would never change it for the world. Yes, you think, it was all worth it.

[gardens-light]

One Giant Problem

With Abe out of action, due to recovering from the previous mission. Hellboy's 'usual' interaction with Manning, and him not taking well to the new comrad. Things hasn't gone down so well at The Bureau.

On top of all that, duty still calls and Hellboy has another mission to do. Not realizing that it may open up more problems... for what happens when the 'evil' you're fighting against, turn out to be people within your own ranks?...

Contents: Mild Coarse Language. Spoilers for Hellboy film (2019). Fluff. One bed cliche hinted towards end. (Part 3)

New Girl Saga. (If you'd like to be tagged for future parts. Let me know.)

Part 1 Part 3

"What?"

You took a step back as Hellboy raised his voice. Keeping your eyes low, simply gazing at the floor, as a gentle sigh left Professor Broom.

"My boy..." Broom approached Hellboy, sitting upon the armrest of the couch while leaning upon his cane. "I know you're upset about Agent Clay. It's not an easy job."

Hellboy continued to stare at the multiple screens, of the box TV's which stacked on top of one another.

"But... it's apart of the job. Everyone here knows that."

"Try and tell Manning that." Hellboy's voice had a firm tone. "He's not in charge, yet the asshole walks and talks like he is."

"I know you and Agent Manning don't always see eye to eye-"

"Father, please! The guy talks to me like a piece of shit, and holds me accountable!"

Professor Broom nodded while placing a gentle hand upon Hellboy's shoulder. "I'll speak with Manning. I agree that he has no right in the matter of addressing people the way he does. But please... there's something important I wish to discuss with you."

A heavy sigh left Hellboy, as he silently nodded. Giving the Professor a chance to continue with what he was trying to say before.

"As I was saying... the Osiris Club. They're a British occult society formed in 1866, by the ranking members of the Heliopic Brotherhood of Ra." Broom adjusted his semi-circle glasses. Feeling Hellboy's confuse gaze. "Like us, they fight against the forces of darkness. Our organizations have had a long-standing relationship."

"We scratch their backs and they scratch ours?" Hellboy questioned.

Broom gave him a warm smile, "in a manner of speaking... they're old friends of mine, and they need your help with dealing a curtain type of problem."

"Oh yea? What kind of problem?"

"Giants..."

Heathrow. England. 6pm

The cargo plane rumbled and shook as it came to land. Waking up from an uncomfortable sleep, a groan left you as you became aware of the crick in your neck.

"You alright, Kid?"

"Hmm?"

Your eyes fluttered open. The leather of Hellboy's trench coat rubbed against your cheek, as you looked up at him. Cheeks going red, once realizing you were resting upon his shoulder.

"H-How long was I out?"

"Roughly about most of the trip. You snored a little."

"O-Oh... umm, sorry."

"Don't be. I thought it was kinda cute."

A small smile came to Hellboy, as he noticed your cheeks redden even more.

"Good morning guys, this is your pilot speaking. We've landed into Heathrow and luckily it's warm and sunny weather. Please stay seated until the plane has come to a complete stop."

Hellboy undid his belt. standing upon his feet and holding onto the railings above him. "Get ready, Kid. These guys run like clockwork from what I've heard."

You struggled onto your feet. Holding onto his coat for balance, as the plane shook one final time while coming to a complete stop. Causing you to fall into his open arms. You both remained speechless as Hellboy helped you back onto your feet, holding you against him to keep you on balance.

A concierge lead you to the taxi which waited at the bottom of the portable stairs. Holding an umbrella, covering Hellboy from any possible views from passersby.

Sitting in the back of the taxi, feeling Hellboy briefly gazing at you throughout the trip. Biting your lip, you slowly looked at him as his attention snapped away from you. His golden eyes gazing out of the black tinted windows.

"Professor Broom was right." Your voice felt loud in the silence that was held between you for so long. "What happened to Abe and Clay... it wasn't your fault. Without you, nothing would of been achieved."

Hesitating for a moment, softly biting your lip before you continued. "I know you don't like me."

Hellboy's attention suddenly snapped back to you, his features softened as his gentle gaze saddened. Looking at you as though he was hurt by your words.

"It's ok." You assured with a weak smile, "but I'll always be here for you- and not because it's apart of my job." You leaned in a little closer to him, "y'know... you're not as bad as you think you are."

"Kid-"

"We've arrived." The driver announced, interrupting Hellboy.

Black iron gates automatically opened, allowing the iconic English car to pass. You looked out of the window, looking up at the impressive Victorian manner. Reminding you of the old fashioned manner from shows like Downton Abby.

Hellboy saw the small smile forming upon your lips, as the sunlight of dusk reflected from the windows and sparkled in your eyes.

I don't hate you, Y/N... his sadden voice echoed within his head. I just hate the fact of what I am keeps us apart...

Exiting the car, the driver opened your door. Gesturing towards the large double wooden doors.

You couldn't help but gaze at your surroundings, as you and Hellboy followed the butler's lead. The foyer itself was huge and grand, a crystal chandelier hung central to the space. You and Hellboy gathered around the small, circular table underneath the impressive fixture. An elegant rug covered the vintage flooring, while renaissance style paintings lined the wooden panelled walls.

"Your... guests, m'lord." the butler announced as he stopped in front of the flight of stairs before you. Hellboy raised an eyebrow at the man's appounciation, while well dressed gentlemen came down the stairs. Approaching you and Hellboy with warm smiles.

"Hellboy, welcome! I'm Lord Adam Glaren."

A middle aged man stepped a little further in front of the other two. His studious gaze fell on you, as you held your hand out.

"I'm Agent Y/N, sir. You have a beautiful home."

Lord Glaren hesitated before shaking your hand. Your smile slowly fading as you became uncomfortable under his curious stare.

"Welcome my dear, and a pleasure to meet you as well. I thank you for your compliment."

As he let go of your hand, you slowly stepped back to Hellboy's side. Your eyes slowly looking around the foyer. Sensing your sudden unease, Hellboy wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"May I introduce to you my associates? Dr Edwin Carp and August Swain." Lord Glaren introduced.

Hellboy smiled at Dr Carp, "hi. Have you guys ever been to the Osiris Club in Jersey?"

"No, I do not believe we have." Dr Carp spoke in thought, "say Glaren. Do we have a club in USA?"

"It's like this, but with strippers."

You couldn't help but smile at Hellboy's joke. Watching the Dr's face screw up into an unimpressed expression eased you to relax a little. Clearing his throat as he walked away and adjusting the blazer of his suit.

"Pay him no mind." Mr Swain politely spoke, stepping closer to you and Hellboy. "Your... hand" he pointed to Hellboy's hand of stone, "a fascinating thing. What purpose does it serve?"

"It smashes things good." Hellboy's voice kept it's bold tone.

"We are so very glad you accepted our invitation." Everyone's attention fell onto Lord Glaren again. "The Professor and I go back a long way."

Hellboy silently nodded, as you slowly approached one of the paintings upon the wall.

"The Osiris Club has been long dedicated to preserving the secret history of Great Britain." Lord Glaren explained, as Hellboy's wandering eyes left him and onto you. "It affords us certain insights into... 'certain individuals'-"

"By that, I assume you mean 'individuals' such as Hellboy?" you spoke over your shoulder.

Lord Glaren raised an eyebrow, as his associates nervously chuckled. The Lord noticing Hellboy's small smile, as the demon's gaze never left you.

"We've also given vital counsel to your B.P.R.D on occasion." Mr Swain added.

Your yawn interrupted the gentleman. Hellboy's attention fell back onto Lord Glaren, "perhaps skip onto the important part? My girl is tired, and I doubt you've flew us halfway around the world just so you could give a little history lesson."

Your body stiffened at the new nickname. An uncomfortable chill slowly crawled up your spine, feeling the two mens studious stare upon your back. While Lord Glaren pulled a fake smile.

"Perhaps... we should just show you?" you could hear the Lord's patronising tone.

Lord Glaren walked towards the bookcase in the far side of the foyer, his fingers tilting the spine of a green, leather book. A squeak echoed throughout the space, as a section of the bookcase opened inward. Exposing a small, spiral staircase which was hidden within the wall.

Hellboy approached you, placing a gentle hand upon the small of your back.

"Shall we?"

His voice snapping you out of your daze, and bringing you back into the moment. "Your... girl?" your brain could barely form the whisper.

Your eyes widened a little, as Hellboy's cheeks flushed to a deeper tone of red. Using his hand of stone to scratch the back of his neck.

"Ye..ah" he nervously chuckled. "You're... y'know... and we're..." his body slouched as a heavy sigh escaped him. "F-Forget I said anything... let's... just follow Mr Fancy-Pants..."

You tried to keep a straight face, as you and Hellboy followed the three men down the spiral staircase, and into a basement like space.

"Giants once dominated the British Isles." Mr Swain explained. "Vile, loathsome creatures that would likely eat you, as to look at you."

"They've always been a problem." Dr Carp added, stroking his mustache. "Bodies buried all over England. It's a curious feature of giants, that they occasionally rise from their graves and wreak havoc."

Lord Glaren flashed a smile that made you comfortable, "and when they do... we organize a hunt."

I'm not liking that tone of his... your thoughts wandered.

Coming to the bottom of the stairs, and walking into an archway. Your eyes looked up, placing a hand to your throat as you swallowed your nerves. Framing the high, circular ceiling was a ray of severed heads of giants- multiple ranging in size and colour. Some had broken tusks and horns sticking out from their grotesque faces. Your stomach turned as your eyes continued to scan the area.

"And I thought you had a big head." Nerves taken over your voice, reducing it to a small whisper that Hellboy couldn't hear your joke.

Slowly panning down from the ceiling to the walls, more paintings and photographs came into view.

"We call it, The Wild Hunt." Lord Glaren announced, as Hellboy walked around the room.

"Clearly, you guys are old pro's at this." Hellboy's attention fell onto Lord Glaren, as his associates stood behind him. "Why request my help to kill a giant?"

Hellboy's looked over his shoulder as you bumped into his back, you flashed him a weak smile. Attempting to not raise his suspicions, as Lord Glaren caught his gaze again.

"Three giants, actually."

Hellboy raised an eyebrow at the gentleman's cocky tone.

"One we can handle. Perhaps even two. But three?... now that's a different matter altogether."

"This particular trio is terrorizing the New Forest." Dr Carp explained, his gaze studying you and Hellboy made your spine tingle. "Sucking on the bones of anyone unlucky enough to fall foul of them."

"The marrow, you see." Mr Swain added, "they can't get enough. So if any were to reach a populated centre-"

"It's meal time?"

Mr Swain turned up his nose at the demon.

"This task isn't something to be taken lightly, Hellboy." Lord Glaren's voice held a serious tone. "These are Gigantum Mortis. The most unpleasant and horrid species of the giant-kind. Just ask your father..."

Hellboy followed the direction of Lord Glaren's pointed finger. His eyes widening as his gaze fell onto a black and white photo. Framed in a copper frame, the photo showed a group of men in their twenties. Standing around the severed head of a giant, while they wore armour that looked like something a medieval templar knight would of worn.

"Professor Broom was a guest of The Hunt, when we took a giant down back in '43." Lord Glaren's voice eased his serious edge, but a firm tone could still be heard.

"I always knew Dad aged well..." Hellboy looked at Lord Glaren, "but you guys... picture looks like it was taken yesterday."

"There's a reason for that..." a feminine voice echoed throughout the basement. Everyone's eyes fell onto a beautiful woman, as she emerged from the spiral staircase.

You couldn't help but gaze at her appearance. Silver hair styled in a 1920's updo framed her delicate face. Rabbit fur coat complemented the pearls that hung around her neck, while her pure white eyes gave her native complexion a mystercal glow.

"The phenomenon you so rightly observed was the by-product of a seance." Her voice held an elegance that just captured the attention of anyone whom she spoke to. "The four of us- along with your Professor Broom, were involved in just before the war."

Your eyes widened, "the war? You mean World War II?"

The woman smiled, appeared to be amused by your shocked tone.

"Allow me to introduce our resident seer, Lady Elizabeth Hatton." Lord Glaren introduced.

"The spirit I made contact that night was exceptionally powerful." Lady Elizabeth circled the room, continuing speaking as though she didn't hear Lord Glaren's voice. "It warned us that something was coming... Something that would end all of mankind, as we know it. Therefore we were chosen to seek it out. And destroy it..."

You felt the atmosphere change within the room. Biting your lip as the stare's from the men begun to play on your building anxiety.

"Ever since, we've aged at a snail's pace in order to fulfill that mission." Her eyes wandered over you briefly, "no matter how long it took."

"Okay... and this, ugh thing you're worried about." Hellboy spoke, "did it show up?"

Lady Elizabeth's eyes wandered over the demon, raising her eyebrows as she said with a small smile. "Yes... it did..."

"You and... your girl, must be exhausted from your trip, Agent Hellboy." Lord Glaren butted in, attempting to ease the tension that begun to build. "I have a guest's quarters prepared for you. One bed wouldn't be problem would it?"

You and Hellboy stiffened, as you both awkwardly glanced at each other.

Oh shit...

Tag List

@a-girl-interupted

@drheinzd

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Bang

First posted: October 4, 2019

Focuses on: Jason Todd & Damian Wayne

Favorite bookmark: "No spoilers, but if OP doesnt write a sequel I will literally die."

Second favorite bookmark: "The noises that came from me when I reached the end of that countdown were, um, violent. 😭"

Tier: Middle of the pack

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

I am so friggin' proud of this fic, I can't lie. It's such a powerful little one-shot, and I'm pleased with how I did it, and I'm pleased with the reaction it received. Gold star, me.

There was a bomb in the school. And the rec center. The Grove Street bank. The post office on Utica. The Nockaphee Building. The newly opened inner city hospital.

Once again, my dreaded foe, logistics. I knew what I wanted the crux of the story to be with Jason and Damian, so then I had to backtrack and figure out the scenario that best fit. Not one bomb but multiple, to scatter the family around (because there are so dang MANY and they're always RIGHT THERE in the city), and where a villain might be most inclined to stash them. I know where I got the names for the bank and the post office, but no idea for the Nockaphee Building. Google shrugs at me.

Bombs all over Gotham, embedded in the spines of community spaces and corporate structures like ticking tumors.

This inversion still tickles me.

Batman and Black Bat had bypassed evacuation to head straight to the source. Stop the bomber, stop the bomb. The rest of them were merely backup, protection in case the caped pair failed. Their job was evacuation. Get everyone out and keep them away. Every time they were given a new location, a segment of the core broke off until their forces were scattered wide across the city.

Again, friggin logistics. I duck and dodge plot as much as I can, because I don't care, there is so little actual plot to my fics. But I am as careful as I can be about seeding in realistic barriers into my story. I don't want to stop the whole story to say "Well, you see, they couldn't do XYZ because" or handwave away the most obvious solution to the problem at hand. I want it to make sense why each person is doing what they're doing (or not doing.)

Jason wasn’t normally a keep-tabs person, but explosions made him nervous.

Again, weaving plausible explanations and justifications in a way that also tells a little bit more about what relations are like between Jason and the fam right now.

The one moment of potential disaster—the bomb tucked into the belly of the rec center had malfunctioned and gone off on its own—had resulted only in property damage and no loss of life. The bomb maker hadn’t even set them all to run independently but instead had retained control via a mechanism that turned deliberate detonation into an all-or-nothing deal. All Batman had to do was incapacitate the bomb maker and turn off the controls.

Ugh, this bit of seeding was so tricky. A lot of partially started mental dead ends before I figured out these two pieces: setting up the rec center and the all-or-nothing bomb.

Jason wasn’t fluent in all of them—and had done his best to forget most of them—but he knew that a “hrnn,” unlike a “hnn” or a “mm,” was not a good sign.

This was plucked directly from the group chat. Certain members have a habit of reacting with typed out grunts like Bruce, so I've had time to appreciate the nuance.

Normally, it would be Nightwing’s job to nudge Batman into using his big boy words, but Officer Grayson had been on duty when the emergency alarm rang.

More logistical justification loaded and ready to go.

Jason leaped to the next building and ducked down, pressing his back against the low retention wall.

I don't know, I just like this. If this were a visual medium like a movie, you'd be able to see Jason deliberately blocking out the world so he can focus on whatever horrible thing is about to happen.

Okay. Okay. He was expecting worse. Jason scowled.

The double okay is a very me thing. There are two different tones involved but that's hard to invoke in writing.

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. This was why Jason refused to be affiliated with these people. They were all idiots. “I didn’t want Batman to worry.” Yeah, because Batman wasn’t a grown adult who couldn’t handle his own crap. Obviously. So the little gremlin had lied about where he was, concealed an injury, and now was calling Hood like his own personal Uber. And Jason was going to let him, because he was also an idiot, apparently. “You’re a brat, you know that?” Jason growled as he hauled himself to his feet again. “Fine. Fine! Where are you?”

I personally l o v e this because right now Jason doesn't actually know what's going on, he just thinks he does, so you get to see his reaction to the assumed situation of "The baby of the family did something stupid and got hurt so I get to be mad about that but obviously I'm still going to help and then I'm probably going to make his life miserable for worrying me retroactively."

“The shelving units fell on me. I extricated myself, but something is blocking the doors. I can’t—I am—I made it to the supply closet.”

Damian is being amazingly patient through all this, if you think about it. But I guess he doesn't want to have to say it all out loud yet, so maybe he's just procrastinating. Once Jason understands, then it's real.

“I wanted to know if it hurt.”

That was my cornerstone line, right there. That's the whole reason I wrote the fic. I wanted someone to say this to Jason, because they needed to know. Please picture me dabbing.

This wasn’t happening. He’d just seen the kid a couple hours ago. They’d nodded while passing to their own teams. He’d left a movie about a dog on Jason’s windowsill last week.

It's such a little piece, but I wanted to hint at the utter disorientation of traumatic tragedy, how quickly the day can change and the swooping sensation a person might feel amid that change. Also, even as Jason has spent this entire fic being like "We don't talk!" I did want to seed in that they still interact. Damian trades movies he likes with Jason. He knows where Jason's safe house is. Jaosn is upset that he's about to die.

I would go back and change all those contractions, though. And having two different he pronouns back to back without tying them to a proper noun is just bad form.

Jason couldn’t lie, not even to a little kid.

This appears to be a tiny bit of Ronan Lynch seeping into Jason. Huh. @audreycritter are you seeing this

It had hurt to the point beyond pain, like every cell, every molecule, every atom had been lit up like a Christmas tree.

That "like a Christmas tree" is from something and for the life of me I can't remember what.

Don’t say please to me. Don’t say thank you. Don’t say things that you only say because you think you’re about to die.

I write this kind of thought pattern a lot to exemplify stress and grief. I don't know how I feel about this realization.

“No.” No matter how Jason tried, it was impossible to miss the tears in the boy’s voice now. “It would kill him, having to listen. And he’ll be so angry. I cannot—I-I cannot die knowing he’s angry with me. Please don’t call Richard.”

This was where my throat started to hurt. I don't remember where exactly I started to actually cry while writing.

“You understand. You can tell them. Tell them I-I’m sorry. And that I was brave?”

It was definitely by here, though.

Jason cleared the stairwell, slowing only slightly to duck under the sagging ceiling and pick his way through the debris-strewn hallway.

Oh hey. I don't use any details here but rereading reminded me that I based the rec center on parts of a real place so that I could visualize what Jason would have to get through to get to Damian. Totally forgot.

Ten seconds. Jason lunged at the barrier, roaring as he tore aside mountains with his hands. Nine.

I think building in the countdown itself helped with the tension. It definitely helped with the writing. Generally speaking, the length of sentences should match the pacing of the action itself. For tense writing, you really want short, snappy sentences, but I am a wordy bird who loves long multi-part sentences. See: this paragraph. So hacking up the action into short sentences bracketed by a single digit countdown really helped with the vibe.

“Jason?” Damian gasped over the earpiece. “I don’t want it to hurt. I don’t want it to hurt.”

That would be me. Dying is scary, but the pain before it is scarier.

Jason threw himself into the closet and shut the door.

Sometimes a lack of closure is fun, actually.

Funny story: I didn't actually consider that readers would think I set the bomb off and killed them both. I was new, hadn't done any sad-ending fics before, and also it's comics. Even when characters die, they come back in a few months, so it doesn't really count.

So my notifications start blowing up in the middle of a football game and I had to figure out if I wanted to continue the story...

[saturniandragon]

Adra's Project Wingman In-Depth Review: Per Mission Experience and Commentary

(Caution: extremely long read. Please have snacks ready)

Project Wingman! Or so I've heard it more described as "a love letter to the Ace Combat franchise." Another arcade flight action shooter game similar to Ace Combat, and if I remember rightly, designed and developed by Ace Combat fans. Again I've spent years and years avoiding spoilers, although inevitably I began hearing a few things about it; it's like Ace Combat, it's set in alternate history, you can carry up to 4(!) different types of ordnance, and it's orange. So I guess like NFS Most Wanted (2005). Like Ace Combat 7 of course, I'm playing with my Xbox controller.

Which brings me to the first... quirk of the game. The menu interface. You control a cursor on the screen with your left thumbstick, and you have to carefully position it to the menu buttons that you want to access. The left thumbstick doesn't cycle through the menu buttons, you have to control a cursor with your joystick. Which I find to be a little on the negative side and I decided to just use my mouse to navigate the menu. Makes me wonder if this is a side effect of Project Wingman being developed as a PC game first and console second.

The last time I was met with this kind of UI controls was in the 2019 game "Observation."

However I am very impressed that the menu background isn't just a static image or a repeated video. It looks like a real time 3D rendered scene with planes flying above the treeline. Also what looks like a massive airship or a mothership trailing slowly across the sky. My hype level is up by 3 notches. I can't wait to start playing.

No fancy animation or a CGI video as the intro. Just a text that briefly tells the story about the game's world. Very much like David Szymanski's "Iron Lung" game. Seeing Sector D2 is not a massive game studio and just an indie developer, it's perfectly fine. And what I learned is that Project Wingman's universe is alternate history Earth that experienced some kind of massive natural disaster or calamity that changed the world forever, and new nations start to rise from the ashes. The game takes place 400 years after the event.

First briefing screen. Wow this orange tint really reminds me of Ace Combat Zero briefing screen. And I can also see the map of the Project Wingman world in the background. The continent of America has changed, not dramatically, you can see the general shape of the continent, but the west shoreline has practically split off from the rest of the continent. And a glimpse of what used to be Japan, China, Philippines and Indonesia, now reduced to just a few main islands, presumably the remains of the cataclysm mentioned earlier.

Apparently our protag is a mercenary pilot who goes by the name Monarch (as in monarch butterfly, I assume), who is a part of Hitman team, under the mercenary organization known as Sicario. And our client is the Federation? Is that a country, or a union like the one in COD Ghosts? Either way it brings me back to Cipher and Pixy, who were also merc pilots. In PW, apparently we're fighting a group of pirate pilots.

First mission, destroy some kind of research material that was deemed unsafe and fell into a group of merc pirates. A few ground targets, ships, and a few air targets. Alright, no big deal. My Ace Combat experience is more than enough for this.

I'm actually impressed with the voice acting. I've heard how difficult it is to voice act in a game or a movie that doesn't sound too cringey or too monotone. The guy doing the briefing actually does sound like he's done it probably a thousand times. I wonder if they hired a professional VA or just someone from the internal dev team.

Plane hangar. They give you 2 starter planes to choose. A T-21 (apparently a trainer plane that resembles MiG-21), and T/F-4 (a trainer plane that resembles F-4). I was going to use the Fishbed but the Phantom has slightly better stats, even though I'm bored with Phantoms, so I chose it. UGBL as secondary weapon, pretty standard.

First flight. Operation Red Current. AWACS Galaxy on station and OH MY GOD I HAVE A WIZZO. AND SHE HAS DIALOGUE LINES. The last time I had a wizzo was Ace Combat 2, but he just had generic repeating dialogues like missile lock/alert and stall warning. Your plane does form vapor clouds at Mach 1, something missing from AC7, so I loved that. Once again, for a small dev team, the voice acting is well done.

First set of ground TGTs clear. Ronin moving in. "Cordium" cargo? Never heard that before. They say it's too unstable, Federation orders to just clear it BOOM. MASSIVE EXPLOSION like an FAEB just went off. Mission complete, question mark? Another flight called Master Goose comes in the AO, flashing as friendlies. I don't really trust this but hey, I'm just a merc, not paid to ask questions.

If they turn out to be a fake squadron like the 8492nd, I'm gonna be... Well I don't know what I'm gonna be.

And there's a civil war in the Americas. Country of Cascadia being invaded by the Fed for natural resources. Our client is Cascadian Air Force now I guess. Is this like Belka trying to annex Ustio in AC0?

You know what, I'm too excited to have a wizzo. I'm gonna get another Phantom that isn't a Phantom (F/E-4). Big surprise, all of the SP weapons are available for use right away, no need to buy them separately. I like this game already.

Can I just say the explosions in PW from STDMs are so dramatic. Way more dramatic than AC7, it's like they hired Michael Bay. Not a bad thing though, it's giving PW identity. So it's not just a "Ace Combat we have at home"

Mission 2, all going well, fighting Fed border patrols until a massive airship came practically out of nowhere. At least this one doesn't have drones, just SK.27s and F/C-15s. A couple MLAAs later and it's down, but then no explanation as to what we just shot down. Oh well, at least we're with Cascadian AF now.

Mission 3. Rowsdower AFB. Once belonged to Cascadia now seized by the Fed on their conquest to expand their military (ala Belka), we're on a mission to take it back. Ooh, new aircraft for purchase. SV-37. I genuinely thought I unlocked a Flanker early in the game but it's just the Swedish dorito (Viggen). And it has MLAGs, if MLAA is Multi Lock Air to Air then I guess MLAG is this game's version of 4AGM. Only single seat though, I still want to hear more of Prez's dialogues. Maybe later.

Crosstalk squadron appeared, 5 Super Hornets. Grun Squadron flashbacks from Zero, anyone? Oooooh there's a health bar on the bottom of the screen for each enemy craft. I loved it. Wasn't much hassle fighting them, and we landed in Rowsdower.

Honestly I'm kind of impressed that as a band of pilot mercs, we have our own AWACS. Anyway next mission, aid Cascadian national guards from being overwhelmed by the Feds.

Two new aircrafts. CR.105 and SK.25U. I thought CR.105 is a Foxbat at first but it's delta wing design with no canards or tail surfaces. But its speed rating is off the rails, so I guess partly inspired by the Foxbat.

I'm buying SK.25U for Mission 4. Two seats and a boat load of A2G hardpoints. I sure hope there isn't any mission update where we suddenly have to fight an entire air force! (Thank fuck there isn't)

Really this game has the Frogfoot when Ace Combat 7 doesn't? Come on PA.

Next mission, Cascadian capital of Presidia. The Feds have taken over the city. Cover retreat of Cascadian armed forces. Multirole mission with tendency towards A2A. MG-31 and F/C-16 now available for purchase. Not sure if I trust a flying brick with wings for this mission, so Viper time. Guess I have to leave out Prez for this one.

Mission 5, over Presidia. WOW THIS CITY IS SO COOL with all the low hanging clouds. Though what's with all the needle towers/structures all over the city?

Thought we were done but the Feds sent out not just one or two other massive airships but FIVE of them to try and keep Presidia in their hands. I thought I shot all of them down but Mission Over text?? Did I fail??

Debriefing says Status: Success but Stardust said Presidia fell anyway. I guess it's supposed to be that way.

So far into this game, I'm developing the sense that Project Wingman is largely inspired by the classic PS2 AC titles (aka The Holy Trinity), I guess more towards Zero. The orange tint, no checkpoint system, the absence of aircraft tree, aircraft parts, merc pilot protagonist, but they also incorporate some modern QoL features like flares.

I think I would appreciate something present in AC but not present in PW; lock range indicator. You know the HUD in AC, just to right side of the pitch ladder, is a slider with a chevron that indicates the distance required for your ordnance to lock.

Mission 6, attack the Feds from the other front by crippling their energy production sites at Apodock Fracture, apparently in Yellowstone. Also they've been hunting for some material called cordium? Is that what caused the massive explosion in the first mission?

Two new aircrafts, Super Tomcat and Fulcrum! Two of my favorite aircrafts. But I had to choose the Tomcat because I miss Prez (cmon man I've been all alone in Ace Combat for years). Fucking hell it's expensive though. Better be worth it.

Yep they're hunting for cordium. We're ordered to destroy their containers. Fucking hell the SAMs in this mission are fierce, I got hit 3 times and was down to 23 health. And two more of those fucking Fed airships?? Just how many of these things are there??

Alright, mission completed. Almost. New blips on the radar, VX-23s and SK.37s. Federation Peacekeepers. Engagement Not Advised written in large text on my screen. I hammered the throttle and fly just meters away above the ground to avoid missiles and head to the return line. Reminiscent of the first time you face Yellow Squadron in AC04.

Crimson Squadron. Fed's top ace in Cascadia.

(I learned late that you have infinite flares in this game)

Mission 7. Cascadian Coast Guard seized a Fed battleship/cruiser off the coast of Cascadia. Just me and Hitman 3 this time. We're to provide air support although I kinda don't want to fly the SK.25U just to have its LASM. New aircraft for purchase called the... Accipiter. Whatever the hell that means. Apparently based on the Harrier. Not enough cash to purchase. Back to the Tomcat.

Think I forgot to read the weather report for this mission because it's stormy as fuck and the clouds are violent. I'm not sure who has the bigger balls to fly through such extreme turbulence, me or Monarch. It's actually very scary from cockpit view, everything shaking up around you and you hear the creeking and clanking from the plane's aluminum panels like they're going to break off at any moment. Oh well it's just an anti ship mission with a couple of air targets THE FED SHIPS HAVE RAILGUNS ON THEM WHY AM I FIGHTING MINI STONEHENGE AT SEA

Ok that's over now. New mission that's purely air to air mission. Take down Fed logistic planes while also avoiding shooting down civilian airliners. Weather cloudy. Two new aircrafts, Super Hornet-C and Flanker-B. But I'm still having way too much fun in my F/D-14.

Also I just learned that the seemingly random clicking noises when I'm flying is just a noise indicator of my missiles fully reloaded.

Mission 8, Briggs Mountain Range. Wait why is that civilian airliner the same as the Fed airship that I've downed multiple times before?

Doesn't matter. STDMs, HVSMs and MLAAs. One by one shooting down Fed Globemasters. Conservative with MLAA use because I totally didn't restart this mission because I accidentally shot down a civilian airliner. Then the true airship arrives. Airship Gladeus with two F/S-15s. The fucking AAM pods on the Gladeus are a nightmare to hit tbh, but mission done. More importantly no civilian casualties.

But I begin wondering, is there like multiple paths in this game like Ace Combat Zero? Like Knight, Soldier and Merc paths that are determined by whether you shoot N.TGTs or not. That's my goal for my second playthrough.

Mission 9. Raver mountains. Covert mission to take out SAM sites so we can push without losing planes. F/C-15 is now available for purchase.

But you know what, let's take the Accipiter for a spin. What was the last Ace Combat game that lets you fly a Harrier? None. Well, Assault Horizon, but that's not a true AC game. Woah, what is this, CGP? A shotgun gun pod?? Flechette rounds?? I don't fucking know how it works but I wanna try that shit out.

Alright, near CIWS units. Time to try CGPs, and... it's disappointing. Although I think my expectations were a bit too high. Well at least they didn't lie about it being a short range weapon.

And of course I did the tunnel runs in this place to destroy the containers. I'm an Ace Combat vet after all, tunnel runs are my bread and butter.

Mission 10, now the real deal. Solana Comms Array and the adjacent airbase... without Cascadian air force to help us. It's alright I guess, Monarch is already a one man army as he is. Or one man air force.

But I'm this far into the game and I still haven't found Project Wingman's equivalent of QAAMs. Maybe there will be a "HASM" (High Agility Standard Missile) or something. I guess it's time to try the Eagle for a spin.

And my thoughts? So worth buying the Eagle. Missed out on Prez, but when you attach second and third slots with MLAAs, you get 6AAMs in game. Awesome stuff. Fed is crumbling.

Mission 11, Bering Strait. Another purely A2A mission. The most expansive A2A battle ever committed, he says? We'll see to that WHOAA THIS IS LIKE THE MAYHEM MISSION FROM ACE COMBAT ZERO ON STEROIDS

And of course Crimson squadron shows up with a fuck ton of reinforcements. Totally reminding me of Schwarze squadron battle. But I'm not going down without a fight.

55 fighters, 3 SK.37s and 2 VX-23s downed by one humble F/D-14. I tried getting a close look at a VX-23 but couldn't make out what it resembles. My best guess is that it's probably something like Chengdu J-20 but couldn't see the fine details. Is there like a PSM mechanic in this game because those guys were pulling 90 Gs every now and then

Feds have issued retreat. Crimson 1 insists on staying, Crystal Kingdom order stands. Eventually Crimson obeys, and retreats the whole squadron.

If anything Ace Combat or movies have taught me, I predict Crimson is going to go berserk within the Feds. He's gonna think the Fed is too weak and just holding him back, he's gonna take Federation's most outrageous aircraft and weapon and use them to set a personal score with Monarch. I'm calling it.

I love Prez's reaction after Crimson retreated. Like yeah bitch, you better fucking run! I love her.

Alright, mission 12. Feds is absolutely crumbling after their airforce got decimated by Hitman. Multirole mission with heavy tendency towards A2A. Something about oil rigs facilities at sea.

It's railguns again, the same one that Fed ships were firing at me on previous mission with the Eminent Domain. Hitman 3 said something, why is this rig more heavily guarded than the comms array?

Mission update came up. Unknown target marked on my HUD, but I'm not firing yet. I fly close to the unknown to try get a visual but it's too damn dark to see anything, even with gibbous moon. Then something happened.

"Project Wingman is away."

What the fuck is that?? Project Wingman?? Something rapid just took off from one of the oil rigs. It's way too dark on my screen to see whatever it is, but it's roughly triangular AND IT'S SHOOTING RAILGUNS BACKWARDS AT ME WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS THIS THING

Apparently piloted by another merc named Frost? Monarch shot it down with HISMs and STDMs. Frost ejected but said something about releasing data pod. I suspect this is a Federation superweapon undergoing research. That will explain the amount of AA defenses all around it although of course the game's debriefing doesn't tell me anything.

Mission 13. There's a new Fed superweapon, an airship fleet by the name of Task Force 1. It's resting in a port, we're to destroy it before it's unleashing hell, I suspect. Although something about Kingdom of Sawaiiki, one of Fed's states, will probably get in the way.

Maybe I should expect neutral/N.TGTs.

Two new aircrafts. F/S-15 and... what the hell is this? "Chimera"? At the front it resembles Su-57 nose, but the way the wing blends into the body is a bit like F-16XL's cranked delta wing, and it also has a V tail like YF-23 (maybe that's why it's called Chimera). And it's 285k to purchase, I don't even have 100k credits. Why is this available to purchase right now?

Whichever the case I can't buy either of them. I'm going with the F/C-15, I'm gonna need its MLAG.

I think this mission is where the game can do with some optimization, because my frame rate was down from 80+ to 40 near the docks where there are a fuck ton of targets. But I don't want to compare this to Ace Combat 7 because this is a game from an indie developer. I'm sure they did what they could for optimization, and I'm not gonna blame them.

Mission itself was pretty standard. Nothing super interesting although the part where Hitman 2 had to radio out a long announcement to Kingdom of Sawaiiki that we have no beef with them, and telling Galaxy afterwards that it costs "2 bucks per word" is pretty funny. I love these conversations.

Mission 14. Grimwood coast, provide CAS for ground troops and prevent Feds from regrouping. But expect bad visibility he says from the forest fire nearby. I'm gonna gamble and take the SK.25U.

Oh shit, I guess we're working with firefighters as well now. I hope I don't have to protect them at some point because I'm essentially flying a tank. That has 40mm/65mm HE ammo for its main gun.

I forgot to say but the MLAGs in this game are phenomenal. The multilock ability of a 4AGM and the range of an LAGM? Slow reload speed but I'm sold. Who needs an A-10 anyway right

Feds in Grimwood have surrendered. They burned the forests for nothing. Also I keep hearing allies calling Monarch "The Crown" now, and in earlier sorties I also hear something along the lines of "how dare you take the name of a king as your own", "not all kings are just."

I'm developing the feeling that this game is fantasy medieval action adventure but with jets and airships instead of swords and magic. No hard feelings on that, I'm a huge fan of The Elder Scrolls series. So I'm looking forward to see how much this game plays into the mythological/medieval theme. Maybe like Ace Combat Zero, with how Cipher and Pixy did the aerial equivalent of jousting? We'll see.

Also there's this level of detail and touch of realism, that I think has never been done in Ace Combat before. When an enemy jet whizzes past you above Mach 1, you can actually hear the sonic boom from their wake. That's awesome.

Mission 15, Cascadian city of Prospero, the largest trade center apparently. Get rid of its air superiority elements and secure the airport. SK.37 is now available for purchase, yet I'm still under the required price for it.

I do have to comment on the way planes are painted in PW, or at least the default skins that you use. It's like plastidipped or cerakoted or something, like how guns are these days. Nothing really spells practical camouflage/camo pattern. But hey, maybe that's just how Monarch wants to look in the skies.

Liberate Prospero they say but they didn't say the Feds would be so desperate that they would LAUNCH 50 NUCLEAR CRUISE MISSILES JUST TO PREVENT CASCADIA FROM GETTING TO PROSPERO. THEY JUST BELKAN'D THE SHIT OUT OF THIS CITY. DID THEY JUST OPEN UP A VOLCANO FROM THE GROUND?

Hitman 3 just said Calamity. Is this what happened 400 years ago before the events of this game?

Fucking hell.

Mission 16, instant continuation from previous flight. Only me, Prez, Diplomat, Comic and Galaxy now. No idea if anyone else is alive. Flew over Rowsdower, no response.

Fuck, new blips on radar. It's the merc Frost from earlier. AND MASTER GOOSE FROM MISSION 1. I FUCKING KNEW THEY SHOWED UP TOO CONVENIENTLY

"You fired up? Come shoot me down." Yeah bitch I'll shoot you down in that fancy bitchass superplane you're flying. And don't you dare copy my boy Pixy's line from Ace Combat Zero.

(Just kidding, I love the devs for having her voice actor say that)

Fucking hell, I thought a swarm of MQ-101 drones was bad, but I never thought I'd be on the receiving end of an ADMM where each individual missile is a QAAM.

Stardust again. Contract to fulfill you say? Fuck you man, there's nothing else out there now. Everyone's got our number, even Diplomat and Comic's real name. Sicario is only 4 man band now, 5 if you count Prez.

Kaiser seems convinced after Stardust offered something to us. Whatever that is. Meanwhile I guess we're regrouping on an abandoned highway as a makeshift base.

2 months later.

Mission 17. Brite Fortress. One of the safe havens outside the whatever the fuck is happening out there.

I sold my Harrier to get some cash back. I'm done with the Super Tomcat. It's time for SK.37. It's only got AA hardpoints but I need to fly something else. Oh and an MGP. I've never used MGP in Ace Combat before but I'm gonna try this one.

Woah, what is this? AOA limiter? Replaces flares? Doesn't say what it is.

Alright, Brite Fortress. Railguns and airships as usual. At this point I've been desensitized to them, because I learn that the Feds is just Belka/Erusea hybrid. As in, a superweapon maniac.

Aw shit, they have a massive tank/train/land cruiser. This thing doesn't have any A2G weapons, but it has MGP. 4 of them. And AOA limiter, more like AOA unlimiter. Let's you pull off PSM-esque move while holding down L3 and turning sharp. I like it though, it replaces your flares but it doesn't restrict you to low speeds and a complicated QTE like Ace Combat 7, and you can perform it anytime as long as the indicator is ready.

Mission 18. Aw shit, we're back to Prospero now? I really don't want to.

Yeah, figured. Crimson showed up again. VX-23s and SK.37s again. But now I can at least match their crazy AOA maneuvers.

My first try I nailed AOA limiter module pretty quickly. If used right it's essentially a "teleport to enemy's 6" button. Well I didn't use it right. Got shot down.

My second try. If Crimson is calling it personal then so will I. I will spam this AOA limiter if I have to. Even Diplomat is absolutely fed up with Crimson's shit, telling him to shut the fuck up and turning off his radio. Learned that, other than spamming AOA, you have to firewall the throttle, make sure your speed never goes below Mach 1 even when turning. Got hit by a missile once, but this time I downed them. All 8 of them.

Crimson laughing maniacally on the radio as his plane falls. What a waste of pilot, Comic, I agree. But I'm feeling that won't be the last.

Mission 19, back to Presidia. Take out Federation's naval force.

VX-23 is now available for purchase. It is like Chengdu J-20/Lockheed F-22 hybrid. Well, more like F-22 with the wings swapped positions. Can't buy this one either even if I sell my SK.37. And I love this thing already because of its AOA limiter.

Naval force destroyed. Presidia is next.

Mission 20. Now I could really sell my SK.37 now to get the VX-23, I wonder if I should do that...

Fuck it. Yolo.

Presidia is liberated. Feds are surrendering. War is over. And then...

"KINGS"

....

No.

No, Sector D2. Please, don't.

Don't make Crimson 1 pull a Pixy on me for the ultimate mission.

I called it earlier. He's gone off the rails. He took the Fed's superplane and nuked everyone in Presidia with it except Monarch. Probably intentionally, to set a personal score with me.

But I'm not scared. Well, until he fired railguns on all directions, launched Project Wingman's equivalent of ADMM, and released force fields ala Arsenal Bird/Alicorn. When I thought this game would be like Ace Combat, I didn't think it would be "Ace Combat, but 150% more fucked up."

I employed the similar strat from before. Lock the third person camera at his plane, firewall the throttle up to Mach 2 and spam the AOA limiter. He's got 3 health bars in that superplane that's probably powered by cordium. If previous missions didn't emphasize on how orange this game is, well, this final showdown does.

Everything is orange. The skies, the ground, the sun, the missiles, the railgun trails, my HUD, half the time I couldn't tell if my missiles hit him or not because my interface was loaded with directional missile proximity indicators. Thank fuck the health bar is still perfectly readable.

"You signed this deal a long time ago." WELL I DIDN'T SIGN UP TO FIGHT YOU SPECIFICALLY NOW DID I. But you've decided that it's personal so bitch, COME THE FUCK AT ME.

"I'm Cascadian. You think I take joy in killing my own countrymen?" SO WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO IT IN THE FIRST PLACE. YOU LET YOUR OWN PRIDE CONSUME YOU AND THOUGHT THEY'RE ACCEPTABLE LOSSES IN YOUR OWN PERSONAL BEEF WITH ME. FUCK YOU.

I danced with him in the skies for probably a good 15 to 20 minutes just trying to land one or two hits on him. A deadly aerial dance that involves jet fuel, multi lock missiles and nuclear railguns.

Three health bars depleted. My camera is still locked onto his PW.MK1.

"No, not yet..."

Then all my HUD element disappears.

He's not dead yet. Two health bars now on the bottom of the screen, one for Hitman 1 and one for Crimson 1. Fuck, I have to fight him again. I grazed my VX-23 on the railgun trail and took some damage. But I still have my wings. I can still fly.

Another 10 minutes of fighting. I'm gonna fucking joust him now like Pixy. Dozens of STDMs, hundreds of railgun projectiles and thousands of 20mm Vulcan rounds.

His last health bar is depleted.

...

But my camera is still locked onto his plane. The corpse of his PW.MK1 flailing through the clouds and trailing flames.

Why am I not seeing a chute?!

"Monarch..."

God damn it, Crimson, eject! Eject now!

"When you hear the thunder..."

There's no time for speeches, damn it! Eject!

"When the storm comes for you..."

Dying will not solve anything! Fucking punch out, god damn it!

"Remember me."

...

But he was a fighter pilot to the end.

Remember him, Monarch.

Because it's just you left.

No one else. No Prez, Galaxy, Diplomat, Comic,

It's just you.

As a final send off, I leveled out my VX-23 to the horizon, pointing towards the sun, and fly off into the distance.

Contract completed.

---

Project Wingman, completed. Wow. What a game.

The story, the gameplay, the graphics, the sounds, voices, visuals, everything.

I can tell it's all been made with passion and love. And it really is... a love letter to the Ace Combat franchise.

It may as well be an Ace Combat game on its own.

I never mentioned it, but the OST is also phenomenal. Especially on Mission 11. On par with Ace Combat. Maybe even better, for an indie game. Especially the credit song, the leitmotif that's been playing throughout the game since Presidia. I'm calling it Monarch's theme.

Wow, just wow. I nearly shed a tear.

You know I once read a quote, I don't remember if it was from this game or something else, but

War doesn't decide who is right.

Only who is left.

10/10. Phenomenal game. Sector D2, you are legends. Absolute fucking legends, you hear?

There are so many people backing this game on Kickstarter, on the order of hundreds. Maybe thousands. All their names are in the credits.

And it was all so worth the money you all have invested in the development of Project Wingman.

And for me, it was worth the money I spent on buying this game.

Enjoy your victory while it lasts, Monarch.

You may not have a throne, or anything left in your world.

But you are the king.

As for me, I'm gonna play the game again and try to understand the lore better. It seems that I have a tendency to hyperfocus on the task/quest/gameplay at hand. Probably gonna turn down the bgm and sfx a little bit so I can hear dialogues better.

[koolcece22]

 My Symbiote spider-man 2099 review

(Disclaimer: I did started reading the spider-man 2099 comic after ATSV so my review may be lackluster at best but I will tell it how it is. Also spoiler warning on the whole comic.)

edit: at part of the review got cut off I fixed it

So this is my review of the spider-man 2099 symbiote comic: 

IT SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Let me explain, so the comic kicks off at the issue where Kron and the Venom got captured. Venom escapes and fuses with the fish guy. Miguel tries to stop him and get the symbiote back. That’s a strong start as it makes sense to start here due to how bad the original comic ending was.(Side note: they did the ironic page with spider-man 2099 again just so they can pull the nostalgia heart string to get us hooked.)

Miguel is now the CEO of Alchemax, which he hates and everyone hates him for it too. Also the fact he stressed from being the CEO and Spider-man. That was the first red flag of the comic. Miguel in 92 run didn’t like being the CEO but he knew it better than someone else taking over. 

 so the Venom made a new symbiote before it left and one of Miguel co-work was experimenting on it to control it and Miguel wasn’t having that and wanted it destroyed. He figured that co-worker wasn’t going to destroy it so he went in as spider-man to make sure it got destroyed. The co-worker tried to control the symbiote but it backfired and fused with Miguel. 

Kron also escape at the sametime and punisher was hot on his tale and ready to killed him till Venom found Kron again since it like Kron for some reason and Kron killed punisher (i’m pretty sure he not dead dead but who care)

The symbiote that fused with Miguel try to take over but Miguel have more will power. So Symbiote opt to let them work together. Kron sneaks back into Alchemax disguising as Miguel. Tylor trying to get back the company. Kron got caught by him and Miguel’s mom. Then real miguel came in and reveal to Kron there brothers and he spider-man. I was like ‘WTF’? On the Miguel revealing he spider-man to everyone in the room. 

Kron tries to convince Miguel that they are brothers and we should take over the city since they both have symbiotes. Even Miguel’s Symbiote tries to tell him they should work with Kron and Miguel agrees!? Also, there was a moment that Tylor was thrown out the window but it was cop out, it was all in Miguel’s head. God I wish that would happen. 

So Kron and Miguel having a brother moment in the next two issues goes nowhere. Like Kron and Miguel’s symbiote try to convince Miguel to kill people but he won’t so he still has control over his symbiote. Strange found out that Miguel is ‘possessed’ by the Symbiote and went to Doom for help. Also the moment when he and Vulture had a fight and Miguel was actually going to kill him but he was saved by Strange. Probably the one person you should kill is Strange.

(ok this was kind of funny)

Doom go get Gabriel who was bitter with his mom and Miguel. Also just found out that his mom cheated with his dad and Miguel and Kron are brothers. Doom tell Gabe to go free Miguel which how the fuck does Doom knows that Gabe is Miguel’s brother? Did I missed a issue in 92 comic?!

So Gabe found Miguel who was having an exponential crisis. Telling that this isn’t you, he gets stabbed by Kron and throw off a building (I'm pretty sure that happened). Miguel got pissed and tried to kill Kron. Miguel talked to Venom trying to convince them that Kron sucks and he better. Venom fused with Miguel and surprisingly killed Kron (I hope). Unfused with both of them and killing them? Sad that Gabe is dead but wait!! Gabe turns up a few days later and turns out that he is alive or what we think its him.

So the summary is over here the review part: first, the art style. It is terrible or at least not the best work. I know I came off straight from the movie so Miguel’s design I have high expectations for. But they used the 2019 comic design and let's just say it suck.he look way too much like Peter. Like, you could have made a fusion of the 92 comic design and the movie design. It has been done before by Mr.Dev and even fan made. Also other Spiders comics were starting to adapt the movie design, so why not Miguel? They also keep forgetting what Miguel suppose to have. Where are his red eyes? Where are his fangs? Where his sunglasses? Like come on! It 2024! You should know what he look like!! Everyone designs but Lyla is ugly. Only the cover were nice. Sidenote: if anyone can find a poster for issue one for me that be great.

Second, the pacing of the story was horrible. Like I get it they only had 5 issue but it was way rushed even for five issue. Like the plot went nowhere. Not only that but it looks like they change the plot midway. Like the first two issues look like they were going to pull the ‘which one is Miguel’ card. Are we reading about Miguel or the Symbiote or Kron since he was disgusting as Miguel. That would've been fun to read or would grab me to keep reading. There was also the whole Kron and Miguel trying to be brothers that just rubbed me the wrong way. Ugh, didn’t Kron just kill Dana? Like Miguel’s fiancée? The love of his life?! Also side note there was no mention of her or Xina in this whole comic. I don’t think Miguel don’t want to be brothers with Kron who:

A. killed his Fiancee. 

B. try to kill him when he was young. 

C. probably was going to kill his mom. 

D. killed Gabe, I know that one was after but it still counts. 

E. did a bunch of evil stuff. I know he killed Punisher’s wife and/or family

Miguel deciding going with Kron was a way out character even with the Symbiote. The Symbiote would try to convince him to kill Kron and feed off his negative emotion. 

Let's talk about Symbiote, the thing that pissed me off the most in this whole comic. The Symbiote was very disappointing. First the design, it looks very boring. Looking back at Gwen and Miles’s symbiote suits this very lackluster. Like the only thing I like about it is that he is bulky.

i'm most look like he got those 19ins

I saw better fan art designs for Miguel symbiote; it just looks very plain for a symbiote. 

Another issue with the Symbiote is its point in the story. So this whole comic hype this Symbiote to be a great threat to everyone but…it did nothing. All it did was try to convince Miguel to let it have control or to kill people. That's it. It was just the symbiote scream that Miguel's ear telling him to do stuff like Navi from Zelda or Paimon from Genshin. 

And biggest fucking problem I had for symbiote: 

ITS.DOESN’T.HAVE.A FUCKING.NAME!!!!

The reason why I've been calling it Miguel’s Symbiote is because it doesn’t have a name. I read this whole thing for 5 months for not to be named?! Like the main reason why I read this comic is because I love Symbiotes. It is the only thing I truly like about Spider-man (or least got me hooked read Spider-man) and when I heard Miguel getting one I was excited. But this whole comic was a huge disappointment that I wasted 5 months to read this to not only getting half ass writing from one of the original creators of 92’ 2099 run of all things. Like if this was written by someone else I would be that not too upset but this is worse. He already letting me down with other stuffs he did that I won’t talk about. It's like he barely looks back at his work when writing this. As a writer this hurts. Like look at your stuff to make sure your retcon is going to make sense otherwise there is no point. this prove a point that just because the original writer is back that its going to be any good

So overall this comic is 1/10 and the only reason it got a one for the last issue was because they had a good fight and Miguel was being cunning. I hope we spider-man 2099 fan get a good comic. Because the last comic was about so-what descent was like in 2015. Like no one in marvel can write Miguel, he is not that hard!

tell me your thoughts or comments

[writeswithquill]

With Dolcinaea nearly done, I want to share my list of future cross stitch plans.

This is mostly to explain why I'll probably disappear for a while once Dolcinaea is complete. These charts can take 10s of hours each and I've got so many I want to get started on!

Spoilers for Octopath 1 late game bosses within.

The Link to the Past light and dark world maps.

These are ongoing, something for me to come back to between Octopath projects. If you are interested in stitching these maps yourself, I am currently stitching this light world map and will be stitching this dark world map.

Octopath 2 Travelers in all job outfits.

So, this is the next big project. I imagine the charting alone will take me most of a year if not longer. All I've really completed so far is this little comparison image to find out if there are any skin tone or hair colour palettes from the Octopath 1 cast I can reuse for 2 to make this a little easier. The short answer, not really!

I tried to pull together Agnea's face from this comparison and while she's alright, this alone took an hour, so... This is going to take a lot of hours staring at pixels, but I know it will be worth it in the end, however long it takes.

The Guardians of Orsterra/Ochette's bosses and companions.

I want to stitch another collection like Those Who Govern Reason and of the sprites in Octopath 2, Ochette's bosses speak to me the most. This will most likely be the next charting project I start on.

So far, I've only picked my sprites and broken them into grids. Not much, but it's a start. However, with how grainy Dolcinaea was and how many changes I've made while stitching her, I'll want to spend some serious time on these charts to get them right before I start stitching.

Assorted boss sprites.

So, fun fact, I've actually got 4 complete boss charts just sitting in my files. I've even stitched Erhardt's before. However, these were originally made in an old piece of software and the colours are just terrible - hence why I have not shared the completed Erhardt here.

With the hard part of these done and the colour changes likely only taking an hour or two each, I'll probably return to these after Dolcinaea and clean them up. I also have a few more Octopath 1 boss sprites that I want to chart - noteably Mattias and Redeye.

The unfinished chart here is Castti's final boss. I've actually already sorted this one's colours, so I'll probably come back to that soon too. I just like stitching the boss sprites, they're a nightmare, but look so good on my walls.

Galdera.

The Big One. The final boss of Octopath and cross stitch alike.

I've been working on this chart since I started Those Who Govern Reason back in 2019. This is where I'm at currently, probably about 40+ hours so far. He's a beast at 450 x 450 pixels, compared to the Octopath bosses typical 160 pixels square, even the LttP maps are only 250 pixels square. He will be so, so worth it in the end.

I typically spend a day every few months working on this chart so I'll keep at it and hopefully one day I'll be ready to stitch him. One day.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

(Mild spoilers for Shadow and Bone, Little Women 2019 and The Artful Dodger)

This really is a random post, but I love those scenes between a couple where one half is helping the other with their clothes, what I mean by that are scenes like when Alina helped Aleks into his kefta in 1x05 of Shadow and Bone, or when Laurie helps unbutton Amy's apron in Little Women (2019) or, the most recent one I've seen, where Jack helps undo Belle's skirt in 1x01 of The Artful Dodger.

I know I've only mentioned period pieces here but it applies to modern shows/films too, any scene where there's say a changing room scene or where a couple are getting ready for a party and someone needs help with a zip or into a jacket. I'm just a sucker for these kinds of scenes.

On a similar vein are scenes where one or both of the couple are in their nightclothes, again going back to Alina and Aleks, like their scene in the war room in 1x04 where they are both in their nightclothes. There are also a surprising amount of scenes where Belle is in her nightgown in The Artful Dodger, mostly because jack had a habit of showing up in her room unannounced and asking her if she'd like to come help him perform a surgery or you know run away with him.

For me its not just the intimacy of scenes like that its the domesticity. Like you can't help but imagine them as a married couple getting ready for bed, or for the day or an evening out. It's like a little glimpse into what their marriage might look like, if I am making sense here.

Anyway, yeah I want more scenes of couples helping each other get dressed or undressed and I don't care if that is weird to say.

[choices-ceri]

ID2 CHAPTER 15 SPOILER WARNING!!!

Cause oh... my.... GOD?!?!

Not to be all 2019 about it, but I. am. SHOOK. No other way to say it.

Margo stopping her hater ways was not on my 2024 bingo card but yes, more of that.

Terri appeared and my heart DROPPED.... Thankfully she's still alive and thriving. The fact she was fully ready to scrap Lennox despite having zero powers or anything. Amazing.

Lennox cooked though... Literally.

The end of the chapter though... No one talk to me.

MC, Cas and Gabe:

Anyways, can't wait for the happy ending next Wednesday