#sometimes the best thing in the world is to have your pc do something utterly ruinous in service of a good story
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yes it is mildly upsetting where Echo is, mentally speaking, at the end of "The Siege of the Lineage Brighton"........ but it really, truly delights me when players consciously, and with great zest and love for the story they're telling, choose to have their characters make incredibly in-character decisions that are just the worst.
#mine#f@tt liveblogging#friends at the table#twilight mirage#things escalated. SO quickly. and it was SO gratifying and good#gig's reckless!! even's obsessed!! and boy HOWDY do keith and dre remind you of that!!#WHEN EVEN TRIED TO LIE TO ECHO ABOUT THE BLAST THAT BLEW UP THE PRINCE ELECT!!! I ATE THAT THE FUCK UP!!!#and NOW echo and ballad are connected again through harmony!!! the dramatic irony is REAAAAALLLL#GOD this arc was A Time i LOVED all the drama#but really this solidifies for me like. how incredibly transformative the way the f@tt cast thinks about their characters#and their storytelling has been for my own rp-ing!#my most recent dnd session closed with my character making an extremely dumb reckless decision#(kidnapping an unconscious and near-death friend-turned-enemy-turned-frenemy)#that was absoLUTELY in character for them!#but i know that 1-2 years ago i would have been TERRIFIED of committing to that bit because of ~strategic implications~#now? after listening to f@tt and other actual play shows?#sometimes the best thing in the world is to have your pc do something utterly ruinous in service of a good story#also on another note i'm less than 10 EPS AWAY from being done with twilight mirage!!!! end game is IN SIGHT
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Time--Steve Rogers.
authors note: to everyone that accompanied the journey that was to write this fucking bible, thank you. not sure youâre there but thank you. this got completly out of hand and itâs considerably late and iâve spent the majoruty of my day on the pc so bare with me on the typos. hereâs 25 pages of steve.Â
masterlist
summary: time is all that she wanted. steve wanted to give it to her. but it seemed like it was all that he couldnât give.
warning: angsty, fluffy and me fixing the end for endgame cause that was shit.
#
He was there every day. It was hard not to notice him. He was so bright, a shining light inside the dirty, dirty walls of the New York City train.
      Y/N may be a bit distracted, but she was no idiot. She saw how he behaved. Clothes bigger than it should be, trying to hide and blend in as much as he could, even though she was almost completely sure he knew he couldnât. He was so out of place. Her heart went out to him. She had been in his shoes, once. Coming in from another country to a city arguably bigger than it should be was the most daunting thing she had ever had to do. But she had made it.
      Y/N was almost sure she knew who he was. But then again, all those history classes were fuzzy inside her brain. Maybe she was just imagining things. Just maybe. But she would rather gamble with that thought a bit longer.
      He was already there when she got on the train that morning, one week after she saw him for the first time. And just like always, sitting awkwardly and uncomfortably on the same seat he sat the first time she saw him. She gripped the book tightly. Y/N hoped this would do the trick.
      Instead of taking the seat a couple of rows ahead of said man, she chose to sit next to him. She was betting and riding on a lot of assumptions she had made along the week she spent observing him. She could feel her heart thumping against her ribcage. She gulped, and finally opened the book to the page she had last read, sharing a millisecond glance to the man sitting beside her.
      Steve noticed the girl beside him. He was sure she was the same one from last week. The one who exchanged kind smiles and knowing glances. The one who hadnât been frightened or intimidated by him and the only one who had the courage to sit next to him in the entire week he started taking this train to Manhattan.
      She was intriguing to say the least. She had always a pencil and a notebook in hand, and despite Steveâs hopes, he knew the scribbling she made were not drawings. He had quickly glanced one day in the contents of her notebookâin passing not like a creep. He had understood nothing. All the numbers and symbols were just that to him. To her, it must have some meaning because he saw a smile passing every time she managed to stop and look at what she did.
      But that morning she wasnât scribbling. She had a battered book in hand, almost as if she gripped more tightly the cover would crumble into pieces. He looked again at the title. This Side of Paradise, F. Scott Fitzgerald. He had read that, once when he was in high school. Steve wasnât one to sympathize with Amoryâs quest for purpose. He thought it was silly for the man to not settle, especially after he came back for the war. He was innocent back then; he thought the war was what would honor Steveâs purpose in this world. Hindsight was precious and a burden.
      âI read that book, once,â he commented in passing. She looked up from her book and looked at him. Steve didnât miss the kind smile on her face.
      âReally?â she said. Her voice had a different lull to it. Steve found it intriguing. âIâve just came across it. Itâs really interesting.â
      âIt is,â he rubbed his hands in a nervous habit he had acquired in the week he had been defrosted. âI used to think that Amory was jerk.â
      âWell, youâre not wrong,â she said playfully, and Steve cracked an involuntary smile. âIâm Y/N,â her hand extended while the other kept the page she was reading.
      Steve took her hand and shook it. âSteve,â he said simply.
      Her eyes twinkled with knowledge. âNice to meet ya, Steve.â
      There was something about her toneâand she knew that wholeheartedlyâthat screamed acknowledgement. Y/N wished that wasnât so transparent. âWhere are you headed, Steve?â
      He looked at his hands an embarrassed smile framing his angelic face. âI have some, huh, errands in Manhattan.â How would he say that he had to go to a secret government agency so he could regulate his situation, because he had been presumed dead for the last 70 years? âHow about you?â
      She smiled. âManhattan, too. Iâm an engineer for Stark Industries.â
      âThatâs, uh, great,â he said shifting awkwardly in his seat. âDo you work on something interesting?â
      Y/N let out a breathy laugh. âDo you consider clean energy interesting?â
      Steve looked into her eyes for what it felt the first time. He felt something weird in the pit of his stomach. âIââ he hesitated. âYeah, sure.â
      She felt his hesitation and decided not to push further. Y/N could feel his uneasiness and decided not to push it further. She fumbled for something inside her bag. She extended her hand, a piece of paper laying in her palm. âHere,â she said. Steve took it delicately, his fingers brushing lightly on the palm of her hand.
      He opened it. There was an address and a phone number written on it. âI, uh, realized that you were quite out of place, and I was once in that situation, God knows how much I needed someone,â she brushed a loose strand of her out of her forehead. âI just wanted you to know that if you need anything, anything at all, you can drop by or give me a call. Iâll help you.â
      He smiled, shoving the piece of paper in his jacketâs pocket. âYou really shouldnât give your address to strangers.â
      She smiled at his concern. âI know,â she got up, her stop approaching. âBut I trust you, Steve. Even if you are a complete stranger.â
      With that, the doors of the train opened. She gave Steve one last smile, leaving him completely and utterly speechless. Somehow, he trusted her too.
#
#
Against any better judgement, Steve found himself on her doorstep, that same evening.
      Brooklyn had changed so much since the last time he saw it. He looked around the tall buildings and a sense of tread dawned on him, just like the first time he saw it. He didnât remember any of those buildings being there back then. Maybe except the one he was standing right in front of.
      It was a wonder that it had survived that long. Steve reminisced that right across the street had a swell bar that Bucky once took him to. He remembered walking down the streets alone, even with all of Buckyâs protests, after his best friend found a dame to dance with.
Now, it was a simple market. No more of that crowded atmosphere. No more of the extravagant glimmer it held back then. Just a simple market.
      He turned around and got up the stairs. He saw a box with buttons on it. Yet another obstacle, something seemly so simple and so foreign to him. The tread seemed to take permanent residence on the pit of his stomach. Steve saw the tags next to buttons and looked for her name. He pressed it, hoping it would do something.
      âHello?â Y/N came out through the static. Steve jolted, in surprise.
      He hesitated before decidedâas silly as it soundedâto speak to it. âIs that Y/N?â
      âSteve? Hey, Iâll let you in,â then the door buzzed. Steve pushed it open. He glanced at the little paper she had given him earlier that day, noting the number of the apartment and walking up the flights of stairs.
      He could smell something delicious as soon as he got to her door. He knocked on her door, and a muffled âcome inâ sounded through. Steve turned the doorknob and opened the door, finally. He was overwhelmed by a variety of things, mostly the familiar smell of homemade apple pie, that his Mum made him, once upon a time.
      âSorry I couldnât get the door, I was kinda busy with dinner,â Y/N turned off the stove as Steve got in the apartment. She cleaned her hands on a rag and closed the door behind Steve.
      âI didnât know you were having dinner. I would have brought something,â Steve said looking at the ground.
      âNonsense,â she smiled. âI hope you like pasta and apple pie, âcause thatâs all I have today,â she opened the oven to check on her pie. Steve noticed she was barefoot, wearing a hoodie with a university logo on it.
      âThatâs fine, maâam,â he told her, shifting uncomfortably.
      âMaâam?â she said under her breath. She looked at him and saw his awkward posture. âPlease, sit. Suddenly I forgot all my manners.â
      Steve rubbed his hands on the side of his pants, as he followed her lead towards her sofa. âI gotta be honest, Steve, I didnât think youâd come,â she said.
      âHonestly, didnât think I would either,â Steve replied in a breathy laugh. Y/N could tell he was nervous, but she was confused on the why.
      âIâm glad youâre here, though. I want to help. I can tell you are kind of lost,â Y/N said kindly. She smiled knowingly. âBut, before you tell me anything, I have to say something,â she said. âI donât want to fool you into thinking I donât know anything about you, âcause that would be a lie. I donât know you, but I know what happened to you,â she gulped. âIt doesnât make me want to not help any less, though.â
      The corners of Steveâs mouth quirked up. âThatâs⌠good.â
      âPerfect,â she said clasping her hands together. âLetâs get started then. Iâll set the table up, you can tell me the things you are struggling with and weâll talk over dinner.â
#
#
One dinner lead to another. And then another and another. Â Truthfully, Y/N knew she was being more help than she knew. Sometimes she felt that just having someone to make him company, no talking needed, was more helpful than any advice or piece of information she might throw his way.
      A week later after the first dinner, they encountered themselves at Steveâs chosen gym. Y/N could see why he had chosen it. It was very vintage. She could feel in her bones the number of stories the walls must have seen. Maybe she briefly wished walls could talk. But despite it, she knew it made Steve feel a little less like a fish out of water.
      She was there to keep him company. He was so quiet all through their meal. She sensed something wrong. He had trouble sleeping, he said. She suggested that maybe he should tire himself out. So, they walked to his gym.
No one in sight, only them, she observed Steve as he angrily took off his hand wraps, the boxing bag he had been punching lay on the floor, ripped. She knew he didnât want to talk quite yet, so she calmly and quietly sat on one of the benches, waiting for him to be ready.
      And yet, her waiting didnât pay off. Y/N saw a dark figure, dressed all in black, wearing an eye patch to match his already shady persona. She felt like she shouldnât be there anymore. âSteve,â she whispered. She caught his attention and motioned discreetly towards the door. âIâm gonna head home. Weâll talk later, okay?â she squeezed his hand lightly. Y/N walked past him and the dark figure, not exactly looking back.
      Steve observed Y/N walking out, then glanced at the man before resorting to continue taking off his equipment. With that familiar sense of tread settling in the pit of stomach, he braced himself for what was to come.     Â
      âTrouble sleeping?â Fury said.
      âI slept for seventy years, sir. I think Iâve had my fill,â Steve replied, a bit out of breath. He seated on the bench looking at his calloused hands.
      âThen you should be out, celebrating, seeing the world. With your lady friend.â
      Steve sighed. âI went under the world was at war. I wake up, they say we won. They didnât say what we lost.â
      Fury replied, calmly: âWeâve made some mistakes along the way. Some very recently.â
      âYou here with a mission, sir?â Steve asked, already knowing the answer.
      âI am.â
      âTrying to get me back to the world?â
      âTrying to save it,â he threw a thick case file on the bench Steve was sitting on. Steve picked up and opened it, the glowing blue cube the first to stare back at him. The tread intensified in his stomach.
      âHydraâs secret weapon,â he said, quietly. He had hoped that he had left Hydra in the forties. Maybe he had been a fool to let himself believe that.
      âHoward Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought what we think, the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. Thatâs something the world sorely needs.â
      Steve remembered something Y/N said in passing about that. âWho took it from you?â
      âHeâs called Loki. Heâs not from around here. Thereâs a lot weâll have to bring up to speed on if youâre in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know.â
      Steve scoffed. âAt this point, I doubt anything would surprise me.â
      âTen bucks says youâre wrong. Thereâs a debriefing package waiting for you back at your apartment.â
      Steve pushed himself off the bench and brushed past Fury. He knelt and picked up the ripped boxing bag with ease and started walking towards the exit.
      âIs there anything you can tell about the Tesseract that we ought to know?â
      Steve said, immediately after, bitterness crawling his way to his voice: âYou should have left it in the ocean.â
#
#
âWeâre here on the scene now where the group of superheroes called the Avengers are fighting what it seems to be aliens, Tom,â the reporter said through the television. Y/N chewed on her pen, nervously. She was glad she wasnât in Manhattan, but her stomach did funny churns every time the camera showed even a little but of the action. She hoped Steve was alright.
      It was funny how two little weeks made him care for him so much. It was also funny how she had stopped working on the biggest project of her career to hold her heart on her hand and watch the television for some clue that Steve was fine.
      Funnily enough, she felt like she was in the forties. Waiting for her brother, or husband or whatever to come back from a war that most likely he wouldnât come out alive. Y/N knew he was more than capable to survive. He had survived before. He will again.
      That certainty did ease at all this anxious feeling she felt prickling at her skin.
      âWe see Iron Man ascending towards the hole in the sky, Tom,â Y/Nâs breath hitched. âThe hole is closing and we do not see Iron Man coming out.â
      âNow, we are accompanying our field reporter Tania with news coming from what it is now being called The Battle of Manhattan. Iron Man has dived into appears to be a Black Hole opened in the middle of the cityâs sky. Tania you have new information?â Tom said hastily.
      âYes, Tom!â Tania said excitedly. âIron Man was seen falling from the closing Black Hole and the Hulk dived to catch him, letâs see the replay.â
      Y/N felt like she could breathe again. It was over.
#
#
Steve had done it again. He had survived. At that point, he had lost count on how many times he managed to pull through the other side.
      He stumbled through the streets of Brooklyn, his uniform tattered and extremely dirty. He limped slightly and his hand found his side, caressing gently wishing the pain would go away. The battle had ended, they had dealt with everything, and he found himself lost, yet again.
      His feet carried him to the familiar building. Funny how in two weeks Y/N managed to go from complete stranger to the one thing he thought about. How he managed to come out of the other side he didnât know, but he knew that in every second he wished Y/N was safe and as far away from the madness the world had become as possible.
      Steve limped towards the handrail of the buildingâs stairs. He leaned on it, taking a rest. He could feel the serum take away his pain, but he was still so hurt.
      âSteve?â he heard. He looked up, towards the entrance of the building, Y/N standing there in her sweats, barefoot. She got down the stairs and stood next to him. âAre you okay?â
      Steve laughed breathily. âIâm alive.â
      âThat is not funny,â she said, suppressing a giggle at his attempt of a joke. âLetâs get you inside.â
      She tried to support him so he could go up the stairs, but he managed on his own, even all the way up to her floor. She opened the door and he stumbled in, limping to lay on the couch. Y/N closed the door and looked at Steve. âI, uh, was worried.â
      The corners of Steveâs mouth quirked up involuntarily. âI was, too.â
      âYou donât have to worry about me, Steve,â Y/N said shyly.
      âI canât help it.â
      There were a few beats between them, before Y/N cleared her throat. âI think itâs a good idea for you to take a shower. Iâm going to head out and get you some clean clothes, okay?â
      âYeah, okay,â Steve saw her pick up the keys and wallet. âWait,â he said. She stopped and looked at him. âThank you. For caring.â
      She smiled in return, her stomach filling with a nervous feeling she couldnât quite place. She didnât quite know how to respond to him, so she settled for: âGo take your shower, Iâll be right back.â
      Steve got up from the couch with difficulty as he said: âYes, maâam.â
#
#
Steve nervously fiddled with the food on his plate. Y/N was talking on the phone over some important shipment of something Steve hadnât quite understood. Even after a couple of months in the futureâwhich he still struggled to call his present, but not as much as he hadâhe had yet to grasp a few concepts.
      He had to tell her. He wouldnât be staying in New York. It just hadnât felt right ever since he came out of the ice. So, when the transfer came his way, he thought it would be a good idea. See the world, try different things, discover another place. Why not?
      But the lingering question was: why was he nervous to tell her?
      She had been nothing but supportive to him. Patient, when Steve knew most people would have walked out. Caring, when he had no one to care about him. She would be okay.
      âIâm sorry, itâs just the delivery is going to be delayed again and I canât haveââ she started to ramble.
      âY/N, I have to tell ya something,â Steve interrupted her. Her face sobered up immediately.
      âWhatâs wrong?â her eyes scanning his face, looking for a clue of what might have happened.
      âIâve been offered a position in Washington,â Steve said lowly.
      Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. âThatâs great, Steve. You should be happy, itâs a great opportunity. Whyâre you so serious?â
      âBecause I plan on taking it.â
      âOh,â she said, understanding the problem. âSteve, if youâre worried about me being angry about you moving, you shouldnât. Itâs great that you want to do this,â she continued.
      She couldnât help but feel like she was lying. It was genuinely great that he wanted to do this, it meant he started to move on with his life. It also meant that he was ready to leave her behind. And she didnât want that. She got attached. The butterflies only grew with each time she saw him. It was exponential.
      âI donâtâŚâ Steve trailed off. âIâm not worried.â
      Y/N knew he lied. He wouldnât have been that serious if he hadnât been worried. âItâs okay, Steve,â she reached for his hand and squeezed. âI have something to tell you too.â
      âOkay,â he said, suspicious.
      âIâve received a call from Tony Stark,â she said.
      âReally?â Steve said slightly confused.
      âReally. He said he was impressed with my project and wanted to meet with me, tomorrow,â she said coyly. âCan you believe?â
      âI can,â Steve said confidently. âTony mentioned you to me, actually.â
      Y/N looked up from her plate, her eyes twinkling. âWhat did he say?â
      âThat he was impressed with your work and some other stuff that Iâm not allowed to mention.â
      She shrugged. âItâs okay, Iâm pretty sure he will tell me tomorrow.â
      Steve laughed and shook his head at her cheekiness. âWill we be okay?â
      She looked at him once more, her face contorted to a baffled expression. âOf course, we will,â she abandoned her silverware and held Steveâs hands in her own. âwe can always stay in touch. Letters, texts, video chats. This isnât the end of us, Steve.â
      That last phrase sent butterflies into Steveâs stomach. He hadnât felt that since 1945. She was right. They had more resources to keep in touch than in the forties.
      Everything would be alright.
#
#
Washington had been great. Until it wasnât.
      Steve had thought that Hydra would just be a skeleton in his closet. Something that he would never heal from, but in the past. He had sacrificed himself to end Hydra, to end all wars.
      He had quickly seen that to think that he would end all wars was naïve. But he still hoped that it had ended Hydra. Even if the remains of that organization were still around, Hydra was done.
      Washington had proved that you cut one head two more appear in its place.
      Hydra not only had survived like a cockroach; they had corrupted the legacy of his friends. If Peggy could have seen what her organization had become, she would have⌠Steve didnât want to think that.
      Back in New York, Tony had insisted he stay in the Tower. Not that Steve planned to go back to the depressing apartment S.H.I.E.L.D had arranged to him back when he got out of the ice. Besides, he was sure he wouldnât stay much, he had Bucky to look for.
      He shoved his hands in his pockets. Walking down the corridor he wondered if he would ever feel at home again.
      âSteve?â he heard. He looked up from the ground and saw Y/N at the end of the corridor. She smiled brightly at him and he felt his insides melt. âIs that you?â
      âYeah,â he breathed out. She started to walk towards him, with open arms, heals clicking on the cold floor. She threw her arms around his neck and Steve couldnât help but blush. He thanked that the corridor was empty.
      âWhat are you doing here? I thought you wouldnât be back for a while,â she quizzed him, her breath tingling his ear a bit.
      âI came back earlier. It wasâHad a few surprises back in Washington and it was best I headed back here,â he explained.
      âI saw the news. You donât need to be cryptic about it,â she said breaking the hug and taking a good look at him.
      âYou have no idea,â Steve muttered.
      Her eyebrows furrowed at his comment, confused. âYou look different, Steve,â she said, kindly.
      âI feel different,â he responded. âIâm notâŚâ he trailed off.
      âItâs okay,â she whispered, hugging him again. He always seemed to run out of words when he was talking about his feelings, and Y/N completely understood that. âLetâs go to my office, so I can change out of this stuffy suit and you can tell me all about your adventures,â she said kindly and honestly.
      âOkay,â he said, once again breaking the hug and walking beside her towards the other end of the corridor.
      There was a door with her name on it, and Steve felt his stomach flip with pride and butterflies at the sight. She opened the door and pushed him inside, closing the door and locking it, clearly a sign to not disturb.
      She kicked her heals off, the shoes complete thrown on the floor. Steve stood stoically beside the locked door, and she eyed him suspiciously. Y/N walked behind her desk and picked her change of clothes out of a drawer. Still looking at him, she walked behind a bookcase that separated her office to a small living space, so she could have some privacy.
      âSteve,â she raised her voice, catching his attention. âIs everything okay?â
      âWhy wouldnât it be?â Steve deflected the question.
      âI donât know, Steve. You seem weird,â she said as she walked out from behind the bookcase, her old clothes folded in her hands. Now in sweatpants and barefoot, just like Steve remembered her, he felt the familiar clench in his stomach.
      âIâm not weird,â he shifted awkwardly on his feet, and for a moment Y/N saw Steve back.
      She laid her clothes on her desk and sighed heavily. âIâm going to say something and please donât take this the wrong way.â
      Steve suspiciously looked at her and nodded.
      âYou donât have to be Captain America around me,â she said, looking at her hands. âYou seem so tense,â she walked to him, her hands finding his shoulders.
      He breathed out, his shoulders relaxing and his hands finding hers. âI am tense,â he muttered. His heart started beating faster at the proximity.
      âWhat happened?â she whispered, her heart beating faster too.
      âMy past keeps haunting me,â he said. Her hands found the sides of his face, and Steve didnât have the time nor the will to be afraid at the shift in their relationship. âBucky���He was my best friend. And I thought he died. He fell off a train, logically he would have died. So, I didnât look for him. His family had to burry an empty casket because I didnât look for him,â he said, bitterly. Her thumbs stroke caringly on his cheeks.
     âHeâŚHydra found him. They had captured him before and injected something on him that made him survive the fall. They brainwashed him,â Steve continued, his voice full of emotion, one thing he didnât allow himself to show in front of others, he didnât know why. âHe suffered a fate worse than death, all âcause I was too busy to look for him. He would have looked for me.â
     Her arms found his way to his shoulders and she hugged him tightly. His face buried on the crook of her neck, he breathed slowly trying to calm himself down. âIt is not your fault. Hydra did this.â
     âIt sure doesnât feel like it,â he said, his voice muffled by her hoodie.
     âBut it is not your fault. They did this to get to you, because they knew how much he meant to you,â she said sternly. âDonât let the horrors that they did rest on your shoulders. Find Bucky and help him. It is the best that you can do.â
     âI know,â Steve said quietly.
     She broke the hug and looked him over once more. He still looked different, but he looked like Steve and thatâs what mattered. âIâm here. Always,â she said, looking him in the eye.
     Steve looked right back. It was like her eyes held the secret to the entire universe, and only he could know. He loved it. âThank you,â he said seriously.
     âYou donât need to thank me, Steve,â she said smiling. His eyes flickered for one second to her lips. He felt the urge to kiss her, he wanted to kiss her.
     She wanted to kiss him, truly. She had waited too long for lingering thoughts and doubts. He was right there, his eyes on her lips. But it wouldnât be right. It wasnât the scenario she had imagined. He wasnât okay. So, she would wait.
     She gave him a lingering peck on the cheek and left his arms. Steve never felt this cold. âSo, what do ya want for dinner?â she said with a smile.
     Steve smiled back. Even with everything, it was good to have her. It was familiar. He liked it.
#
#
Y/N stood awkwardly in the corner of the room bustling with people. She doubted that she would have been invited to that party if she werenât working closely with Tony Stark. Too many important people were there, and she knew she wasnât one of them. She was just an engineer.
      She looked down at her glass and noticed it empty. She made a bee line to the bar, avoiding eye contact. She reached the bar and took a seat on the empty stool at the edge of the counter. Her fingers traced the rim of the glass, bored.
      âWhat can I get for the lady?â the bartender said.
     Y/N looked up and shrugged. âJust water, please.â
     âDonât drink?â she said lightly, while she poured water for Y/N.
     âNo, actually. I donât quite enjoy alcohol.â
     âHuh,â she hummed. âI see,â she said. She put the pitcher of water down and extended her hand. âIâm Natasha.â
     Y/N took her hand and shook it. âY/N.â
     âWhat are you doing here, Y/N?â Natasha asked.
     âI was invited by Tony, actually. I work with him,â Y/N explained.
     âTony works with a lot of people. He doesnât invite just anyone to these things,â Natasha said suspiciously.
     Y/N let out a nervous laugh. She felt like Natasha was profiling her, which was most likely the case. âI worked with him on the Avengers facility upstate. He says he âhand-picked meâ. Whatever that means.â
     âI see,â her eyes narrowed. There was something Y/N was not telling her. She noticed her glass empty again. âMore water?â
     âNo, thanks,â Y/N let out a strained smile.
     Natasha lingered a bit more before going to the other end of the bar to talk to someone else. Y/N stayed planted on the stool, too bored to try to mingle of the others, but most importantly too shy.
     She felt a hand on the small of her back. âHey,â the husky voice said. She only relaxed when she saw that it was Steve beside her.
     âSteveâŚâ she breathed out, relieved, a smile forming in her face. âI thought you would stay with the others.â
     âTheyâve had enough of me for now,â he smiled. âWhyâre you alone?â
     She shrugged. âI donât feel like mingling,â she said. Steveâs hand remained on the small of her back and she liked the feeling of it.
     âHow âbout a dance?â Steve said, his eyes twinkling in a way she had never seen before.
     She let out a nervous breath. âI donât know, Steve. The music,â she heard the obnoxious beat of an overbearing song blast through the speakers, âitâs not exactly for dancing.â
     âWe can dance to our own music,â he extended his hand to her. An invitation she couldnât quite refuse.
     She took his hand, a shy smile on her face. The warmth of his hand on her brought an eruption of a million butterflies to her entire system. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks as he guided her towards the more disguised place of the room. Both of his hands were on her waist, and her arms found their way to his shoulder.
     Steve guided her through a slow rhythm. âArenât ya worried your friends are going to see us? I mean, itâs not exactly known that weâreâŚâ she didnât know how to finish that sentence. Because Steve was her everything and calling him a friend felt like an understatement, at least.
     âIâm not. I just want to enjoy a dance with my girl,â Steve said bravely, and Y/N smiled shyly and looked to the ground. He had called her âmy girlâ that meant something.
     âSteve, I think we need to talk,â she said quietly, her eyes trailed to their feet.
     His hand found her chin, pushing gently her face to look at him. Her eyes were filled with uncertainty, his were filled with something that Y/N thought resembled love. She hoped it was precisely that. âNot yet. Please,â he said, begging for more time.
     She wished she could give him more time. âI donât know about thatâŚâ she muttered.
     âI promise you; we will have this conversation. But, not yet,â he whispered, his forehead now resting on hers.
     She couldnât find in her to argue and scream to the top of her lungs how she was tired of waiting for him. But then again, she had waited this long. And he had promised, and she found that he never ever broke a promise.
     She nodded, and he smiled as they continued to dance away to a song that didnât match the beat of the rest of the world.
#
#
Y/N tinkered away in a side project Tony had her working on when she heard people walking down the otherwise empty Avengers Tower hallway.
      âA little help!â Tony yelped struggling with a giant equipment. Doctor Banner was sweating, a vein popping on his forehead form the effort he was pulling.
      Y/N dropped the equipment she was working on and grabbed her tablet, programming Tonyâs robots to pick the⌠she didnât know what that was.
      âI thought you wouldnât be back for hours,â she said to Tony.
      âI thought you wouldnât be here,â he answered.
      âI was working on the new communications system for your team. Whatâs your excuse?â she said, sassily.
      âLess traffic on the airway,â he said seriously, already working on what he had brought.
      âWhat is this,â Y/N said examining the huge box, for lack of a better description. Her eyes twinkled with curiosity.
      âUltronâs cradle,â Doctor Banner said, looking at it with unspoken horror and guilt.
      âWhat?â Y/N whispered, incredulously.
      âUltron wanted to build another body, a better one,â Banner explained.
      âSo, heâs into eugenics now?â she quizzed, rhetorically.  âWe donât need another Adolph, tell him to piss off,â she said.
      âI already said that and he wouldnât do it,â Tony answered. âSo, we are changing up the strategy.â
      âWhat will you do?â she said to Tony.
      âStill havenât found that answer, can you wait like, two minutes?â Tony responded his eyes trailed to what he was doing.
      âNo, Tony. I shouldnât be here, this is none of my business and I wonât be any help so Iâm going to get my things and work in the other lab,â she said gathering her equipment.
      âWe could use your help,â Tony said, still typing.
      She left without making a sound, ready to cross the entire floor to put some distance between her and that craziness. She made large strides, eager to not get involved in whatever her boss had up his sleeve.
      The rational part in her told that if she didnât want to get involved, she shouldnât have accepted a job in Stark Industries, least of all accepted a job that close to the Avengers. The scientist part in her told her to turn back and watch science be made.
     She compromised.
      She ran to the smaller lab at the other side of the floor. Hastily throwing her things on a nearby table, she accessed the nearest computer. âFRIDAY, show me live footage from the main lab.â
      The screen popped out. Jarvis was in the center of the room, the big yellow ball moving like it was breathing. Tony was with that stupid expression on his face when he wanted to convince someone to do something stupid with him.
      âNo, Iâm in a loop!â Dr. Banner said exasperated. âIâm caught in a time loop; this is exactly where it all went wrong.â
      âI know, I know,â Tony answered, trying to ease his friend. âI know what everyone's going to say, but they're already saying it. We're mad scientists. We're monsters, buddy. You gotta own it,â Dr. Banner shook his head, maybe in denial, but most definitely trying to not be convinced by Tony. Y/N knew better than to resist her bossâs demands. It would only lead to headache and Tony would end up getting his way, no matter. âMake a stand. It's not a loop. It's the end of the line.â
      Bruce made no sound, he simply moved to start working, considering the fight lost. Y/N observed quietly the dance they made, only comprehensible to only those involved.
     Hours passed eventually and she continued to absentmindedly tinker with the comms, listening patiently to the movement of the footage displaying on the computer screen. She had made little progress optimizing the tech, she would surely go back to it later.
     âThis framework is not compatible,â Tony said, breaking the silence.
     Y/N looked up from her work, her eyes perking up, âFRIDAY, turn up the volume please.â
     âThe genetic coding tower's at ninety-seven percent. You have got to upload that schematic in the next three minutes.â Dr. Banner answered, just as Steve stormed in the lab with two people Y/N didnât recognize.
     âI'm gonna say this once,â Steveâs voice was menacing and heavy with authority, and she had never seen him like that. Steve Rogers was no longer the gentle and kind man she had seen; he was Captain America.
     âHow about ânonceâ?â Tony snapped back.
     âShut it down!â Steve raised his voice.
     âNope, not gonna happen,â said Tony, moving around his work station, practically ignoring the three new people in the room.
     The feeling that Y/N shouldnât be watching this was growing within her. As much as she was involved in the tech and upgrades of the teamâs equipment, she wasnât a part of it. She felt like she was intruding a family quarrel.
     âYou donât know what youâre doing,â Steve replied, his voice once again menacing.
     âAnd you do?â Bruce interfered. âSheâs not in your head?â He motioned to the girl in the room next to Steve. Y/Nâs heart raced in her ribcage, feeling something bad happening.
     âI know youâre angry,â the girl said, accent heavy.
     âOh, we're way past that. I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade,â Bruce said, angrily.
     âBanner, after everything that's happened...â Steve interfered.
âThat's nothing compared to what's coming!â Tony screamed.
     Y/N took that as a sign. âFRIDAY shut down the footage. I donât want to see this anymore,â she requested politely, her voice trembling.
     It took a few moments before she could recollect herself. After that, her first thought was Steve. Where was he?
     âFRIDAY?â
     âYes, Miss Y/N,â the AI answered.
     âWhereâs Captain Rogers?â his title felt weird on her lips. To her, he would always be just Steve.
     âHe is on his way to his dressing room,â FRIDAY replied.
     âThank you,â Y/N said bolting out of the tiny lab, on her way to herâŚsomething she couldnât quite classify just yet.
     She reached the quiet room. Steve with his back towards the entrance, adjusting his uniform, his shield discarded somewhere beside him. âSteve?â she whispered.
     He whipped around, brows furrowed in concentration, relaxing when he saw her. âHey, Y/Nâ he breathed out, relaxing. He could feel the knot in his stomach uncoiling.
     âYou just got here and youâre already leaving?â she asked quietly coming into the room. Steve met her halfway, embracing her warmly in his arms.
     âWe need to do this,â he said, righteously.
     âI know, I just miss you,â she answered. âPlease come back to me, Iâm not ready to say goodbye to you,â she pleaded to him, looking in his eyes.
     âI promise, I will come back to you,â he said, lowly but confidently.
     âSteve,â she said and he hummed in reply. She reached for his lips, kissing him tenderly. He was caught by surprise, but quickly recomposed himself answering her kiss. His hands found her waist as her arms crossed behind his neck.
     The kiss was far shorter than both would have liked. But both had places to be, and things to do.
     âPlease be safe,â she pleaded once again.
     âDonât worry,â he pecked her forehead. âI will.âÂ
#
#
Steve was nurturing a headache ever since the meeting with the Secretary of State. He had managed to slip out of the meeting and avoid the looming conversation of whether he was going to sign the stupid Accords or not.
      He leaned into the frame of the main laboratory in the arms crossed on his chest, a light smile on his face. God, he was so whipped.
      Y/N was working on something he didnât quite know what it was yetâshe had been secretive about it. Her hair was tied in a bun, and Steve could tell she was wearing her glasses. Dozens of mugs littered her work station and the smell of fresh tea lingered in the air. She yelped as something on her table snapped, dropping the tool in her hand.
      He pushed himself off the frame. He walked next to her and crouched picking up the abandoned tool.
      âSteve, thank youâ she said coyly. She still wasnât used to having this man, this God-send man, at her mercy, wrapped around her finger. Because he was, so much. âI thought you had a meeting.â
      He got up, his hands now on her waist, close to her. âI managed to get out early.â
      She smiled. His forehead leaning on hers, his eyes filled with something she could only classify as love.  âWhat was it about?â she asked curiously.  Â
      He sighed, knowing that she would not cave in for some talk about wanting not wanting to talk about it. Because it was clearly bothering Steve, and she would do just about anything to ease his worries. He kissed her lips trying to distract her, and she responded lovingly.
      Unfortunately, the kiss was broken too soon. Steve found that al of their kisses didnât last long enough.
      She pushed herself off Steve, taking a step back and holding his hands on hers. âTalk, please,â she said.
      âThey want to restrict the Avengers,â Steve said bluntly. âThe Avengers will not longer be a private organization and will be supervised by the UN.â
      Her furrowed and she let out a confused what. âHow? I mean, I know how, but thatâŚthatâs just wildlyâŚWhy would they do that?â
      âI guess Lagos was the last straw,â Steve said quietly.
      âSteve,â she said, pulling him into a hug.
      âThis feels low. Wandaâs having a hard time dealing with this, and these Accords are going to restrict her to a weapon of mass destruction,â Steve said. âweâre all going to be puppets for the government.â
      Y/N sighed, breaking the hug. âSteve, look at me,â she demanded. Steveâs blue eyes found hers. âDo what you think is right, but please, please, donât do anything stupid.â
      Steve kissed her forehead tenderly, filled with love. âI wonât,â he answered, knowing he would most likely do something stupid.
#
#
Steve Rogers was a criminal. A fugitive of the law. It was hard to wrap her head around that.
      She said: âDonât do anything stupidâ. She knew what he did wasnât stupid, but she couldnât help but feel like it was.
      What was even harder to fathom was that it had been two years since she last saw him. Two years since she last hugged him, kissed him, hell, spoke to him. The line of communication they shared was scarce, and lettersâlike those Steve had send to her when he was living in DCâwere completely and utterly impossible to be sent.
      It broke her heart, to spend so much time away from him. She hoped he still loved her because it was impossible for her to stop loving him.
      âStill no word from Vision?â Secretaryâs Ross hologram asked to Rhodes. Sitting on a near by table, Y/N feet dangled a bit, quietly watching the exchange.
      âSatellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh,â Rhodes said.
      âOn a stolen Quinjet with four of the world's most wanted criminals,â Secretary threw back.
      âYou know they're only criminals because you've chosen to call them that, right, sir?â Rhodes said, beginning to get annoyed at the situation.
      âRhodey,â Y/N warned quietly. She was rightfully ignored.
      âMy God, Rhodes, your talent for horseshit rivals my own,â Secretary Ross rolled his eyes.
      âIf it weren't for those Accords, Vision would've been right here,â Rhodey argued.
      âI remember your signature on those papers, Colonel,â he said, menacingly.
      âThat's right. And I'm pretty sure I've paid for that,â Rhodes answered bitterly. Y/N got up and stood next to Rhodey.
      âMr. Secretary, thatâs enough,â Y/N said firmly. The Secretary gave her a once over. He couldnât let out a response, not when Steve rolled into the room.
      âMr. Secretary,â Steve said, his voice impassive. Y/N fought herself to not run and hug him and not burst into tears at the sight of him.
      He was so different. His hair was longer, and he sported a beard. She had never imagined him like that. She liked him like that. His uniform was different too. Torn. No star on his chest, a sign of grief of what was torn away from him by a bureaucratic decision, by men with agendas.
      âYou got some nerve. I'll give you that,â the Secretary said, unbelieving of what he was seeing.
      âYou could use some of that right now,â Natasha answered. Y/N hadnât noticed she was there.
      âThe world's on fire. And you think, all is forgiven?â Ross asked.
      âI'm not looking for forgiveness. And I'm way past asking for permission. Earth just lost her best defender. So we're here to fight,â Steve took a step forward, and Y/N held her breath. âAnd if you wanna stand in our way... we'll fight you, too.â
      âArrest them,â Ross said to Rhodey.
      âAll over it,â Rhodes replied, dismissing the hologram. âThat's a court-martial. It's great to see you, Cap,â he embraces Steve. Y/N felt a flash of green rising in her sight, before remembering herself that it wasnât exactly known that she had a relationship with Steve in the first place.
      She took a step back as Rhodey hugged Natasha, wishing she had invisibility powers so she could disappear.
     Steve took notice of that, his heart breaking a little at the sight of the love of his life recoiling in shyness and heartbreak. He wished he could have ignored everyone in the room, kissed her like the world was about to endâcause it wasâand just whisper to her all the loving thoughts that had consumed him the past two years.
     They hadnât bothered to listen to the rest of the conversation, to engrossed in their own thoughts of longing and un-whispered âI miss youâs and âI love youâs. The rest of the people present in the room took the injured Vision to another room, most likely to examine him.
     Once they were alone, Y/N broke out of her trance and lunged herself onto Steve, her view blurred by tears. She kissed him passionately, and he responded as such. âI missed you,â she sobbed. âIâve never thought I would miss someone like I missed you.â
     He wiped the tears rolling down her cheeks, âI love you,â he said. âI donât think Iâve said it enough.â
     âYou being here with me is enough,â she said.
     âCap, come here! We need your help,â Rhodey sounded in the room next door.
     âComing!â he shouted.
     She looked once again at Steve, his gloved hands still on her cheeks. âDuty calls,â she said cheekily, and he cracked a smile.
     She watched Steve walk out. She dried off her tears, and grabbed the cup of tea she was drinking, already cold. She bottomed the rest, the bitter taste of green tea on her tongue. She rested her mug on her workstation and sighed.
     She doubted he would be around for much longer.
     The world was collapsing, and she was going to arrogantly think that she would be his priority, because she wasnât. He had a duty to complete. When he did finish it, she would be his world. Until then, she would have to wait.
     She sat down, her hands on her face. She was so tired from feeling like a widow of a soldier, she just wanted him. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. He consumed all her thoughts.
     âFRIDAY open the schematics for the new Quinjet,â she said quietly. Best to dive into the work than to dwell on the inevitable.
     âHere are the last 20 blueprints youâve produced, Ms. Y/N,â the AI answered.
     The blueprints appeared before her, in hologram. Y/N cleared some out of the way, looking for the main blueprint. âOkay, Fri. Itâs time to start running some tests.â
     She started building the miniature Quinjet, her fingers typing away all sorts of codes and prompts most wouldnât understand. To be fair, it took her a while before she could to. A knock sounded not long after she started, and she looked up from her half built miniature Quinjet.
     âWeâre going to need a Quinjet,â Rhodey announced.
     âYouâre leaving? But they barely got here,â she said sadly.
     âSteve says he knows someone that can help with the Vision problem,â Rhodes explained. âAnd I thought it would a better idea to get a newer jet.â
     âWell, youâre right, that jet is over two years and who knows what kind of problems it has,â she muttered. She then opened a drawer and drew out a tablet. She twilled with it, a bit.  âThe one in Hangar 2 is ready for use.â
     âThanks, Y/N,â Rhodes said.
     âHey, Rhodey,â she called after him. He turned around and looked at her softly. âIâm gonna put the latest version for your suit in it. I donât want you getting hurt.â
     âThank you,â he smiled.
     âSend the others in so I can give them the updated communication system. I donât want to be blindsided during this.â
     He laughed, airily. âSure thing.â
     Moments later a herd of super people walked in her lab. She felt like she was in a weird convention, except the people in costumes werenât overexcited geeks and actual super people that could overpower her in the blink of an eye. Steve looked at her apprehensively.
     âI need to change your intercoms, theyâre a bit old,â she said. âWe donât need ya dealing with faulty equipment on top of⌠what else youâre going to deal with.â
     She opened a drawer and pulled a box out of it. She started to rumble through it, the sound filling the room awkwardly. âIâm sorry. I have these for literally everyone that has ever worked with the Avengers, Tony likes to be safe with these things.â
     She pulled a little suitcase out of the bottom of the box. âHere. I hid these after everything that happened,â she explained and opened it. She started handing them out, Steve the last one to receive his. His gaze lingered on her longer than it should have. âThey are going to connect automatically with any one wearing the same comms. I can access remotely too if anything happens.â
     âThank you,â Sam said, putting his on his ear already.
     âItâs nothing,â she dismissed. âI gonna put any piece of tech you can use in that jet, just to be safe.â
     âYou really donât have to,â Natasha said.
     âBetter safe than sorry,â Y/N muttered, programming the Dum-Eâsâor whatever they were calledâto put what she wanted in the jet. âThe Quinjet is ready in Hangar 2. You should get going. Time,â she looked at Steve, a fleeting glance, âis a precious thing.âÂ
#
#
She worked tirelessly on the new project she had in her hands, determined to finish.
      Hours had passed since they were gone, FRIDAY occasionally giving her updates on the situation in the field. Every time she heard FRIDAYâs voice telling her something from the battlefieldâwhat better word to use? âher stomach did the same funny flip it did seven years prior, when she had only met Steve and New York was in chaos. Except it was worse.
      It was much worse because she finally had him, and the prospect of losing him again made her sick. She had waited and waited and waited, all she wanted was him. She was always almost there, but someone always managed to rip him from her.
      She heard radio silence. No birds chirping, nor ruffle from trees. Nothing. Lifting her head, she looked out of the window. âFRIDAY?â
      âI have lost connection with over half of the team,â the AI informed.
      âConnect me to the remaining ones,â Y/N ordered.
      She heard panting. âHello? Steve?â she asked, afraid that it might not be him. That he might not be here at all.
      âY/N?â Steve answered. âYouâre alive?â
      âOf course I am, silly,â she said. âWhat happened?â
      âWeâŚâ Steve was unable to finish that sentence.
      âSteve, please,â Y/N begged.
      âWe lost,â Natasha answered for him.
      Lost. Defeat. That was foreign to them. Y/N dropped mug on the floor, bumping it from the desk by a simple mistake. âWhat are,â she swallowed nervously, âthe casualties?â
      She opened the connections log, to see the ones on their team that were lost. âHalf of the universe,â Steve muttered.
      âGod,â her eyes filled with tears.
      The list. It was heartbreaking. She was going to be sick.
      Tony.
      Vision.
      Wanda.
      Sam.
      Peter.
      And it went on. Forever.
      âY/N,â Steve begged.
      âIâm sorry,â she sobbed. âSteve, please come home. Please.â
#
#
Five years.
      Five years since that day.
      Five years with Steve by her side, no interruptions, no one to rip him away from her.
     The little apartment she lived in Brooklyn was now her haven, the place where she and Steve would stay endlessly. Cry over what was lost, make happier memories, dance to no song and kiss to their heartâs contempt. Happy memories were made in detriment of the biggest tragedy the universe had ever seen.
     Her ring shone in the sunlight, her hand holding Steveâs as they drove upstate. She sighed. Steve had been down ever since the group therapy. She didnât ask why. âDo you want to talk?â
     Steveâs eyes were focused on the road. âItâs hard.â
     She looked at him softly. âI know.â
     âI canât move on, Y/N. I canât. Not when I feel like thereâs still somethinâ I can do,â he said, defeated.
     âI know,â she squeezed his hand. âIâm truly sorry.â
     He looked at her, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it. âWhen this is all over, Iâll give up the shield. Weâll buy a house, live quietly upstate.â
     âSteveâŚâ she said. âDonât make promises you canât keep.â
     âThis one I can,â he said seriously. âI promise you; Iâll give up the shield. Retire.â
     âI love you,â she confessed.
     âI love you,â he replied.
     âPlease, donât let me down.â
     He looked at her, âI wonât.â
#
#
She had missed her lab. It was a bit dusty; she hadnât been there in months. The last time she was there, it was just to repair some tech that was malfunctioning for Natasha. She was the only one that still lived in the compound.
     She ran her finger on the surface of her old workstation. The last few years were filled with smaller projects, and somehow that felt just as satisfying as sitting there making the best tech in the country.
      She sat on her chair, still as comfortable as she had been before. She turned on the computer in front of her. âFRIDAY?â she said, hesitant.
      âYes, Ms. Y/N?â the AI responded, just like before.
      âNothing,â she smiled. âJust wanted to check if you were there.â
      âIâm always here, Ms. Y/N,â FRIDAY answered.
      âYou know the drill, Fri. Something happens, please tell me.â
      âOf course.â
      Out of pure nostalgia, she opened her old projects resting on the board. Endless files for all the holograms and communications systems for the compound and the jets. The projects for new armors for Rhodey and the one she dared to design for Tonyâshe had never actually showed him the blueprint.
      She scrolled through everything, ideas popping in her head. She fished out a new notebook from a draw and picked a pencil, scribbling away endless maths and weird drawings for new things. There was a thrill to these types of projects that she had missed. But it couldnât help but leave a bittersweet taste on her.
      âOh! Hi. Hi! Is anyone home? This is Scott Lang. We met a few years ago, at the airport. In Germany? I got really big, and I had my mask on. You wouldn't recognize me,â she heard, behind her. She turned around in her chair and looked at the screen that popped up.
      She recognized him. He was supposed to be one of the victims. âFRIDAY? What is this?â
      âIt is live footage from the front door,â she answered.
      âAnt-Man? Ant-Man, I know you know that. I need to talk to you guys.â
      Y/N dropped everything and headed to where Steve was. Something big was about to happen.
#
#
Standing in the woods just outside Tonyâs house, Y/N sniffed as she helped Doctor Banner set up the tiny time machine.
      The briefcase that held the cursed stones sat on top of the station, ready to be put back in their respective timelines. She shivered just at the mere memory of how much pain those tiny rocks had brought to everyone. She buried her hands in Steveâs coat, his scent impregnated her senses, bringing her comfort.
      âNow, rememberâ You have to return the stones to the exact moment you got them. Or you're gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities,â Bruce said.
      âDon't worry, Bruce. Clip all the branches,â Steve answered.
      âYou know, I tried. When I had the gauntlet, the stones, I really tried to bring her back,â he looked at Steve. âI miss them, man.â
      âMe too.â
      Sam stepped forward. âYou know, if you want, I can come with you.â
      âYou're a good man, Sam. This one's on me, though,â Steve said. She knew of his plan. Her eyes watered a bit.
      He looked at Bucky and hugged him. âIâll be back, Buck.â
      âI know,â Bucky said.
      Steve looked at her briefly, a soft smile on his face. Her eyes watered even more. âI love you,â she mouthed.
      He went towards her and kissed her hand, her engagement ring glistening.
      Steve stepped on the platform, and Y/N went back to the workstation, pressing buttons to ready the machinery.
      âHow long is this gonna take?â Sam asked.
      âFor him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds,â Bruce answered.
      Steve picked up MjÜlnir and closed his helmet.
      âReady, Cap? Alright. We'll meet you back here, okay?â Bruce asked. She smiled beside him.
      âYou bet,â Steve affirmed.
      âGoing quantum. Three, two, oneââ Bruce and Y/N flipped a couple of switches and Steve was swallowed by the machinery.
      âAnd returning in, five, four, three, two, oneââ They continued to flip the switches necessary but nothing happened.
      âBruce, where is he?â Y/N asked, starting to get exasperated.
      âI don't know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here,â Bruce explained trying to mend this.
      Y/N became nervous. He was supposed to be back. She reached for Bucky, shaking. She needed to ground herself. Bucky grabbed her arm and steadied her.
      Then the machine started to hum, the floor started to glow. And Steve popped out of it, as if nothing had happened. She jumped out of Buckyâs hold and into Steve arms.
      He dropped the hammer ans shield by his feet and hugged her, lifting her out of her feet. âYouâre okay.â
      âI am,â Steve replied. âIâm sorry it took longer. I had a promise to keep and some things to fix.â
      âItâs okay all that matters is that youâre here with me.â
#Steve Rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x female reader#steve rogers imagine#marvel fanfiction#marvel#Marvel MCU#my masterlist#this is me fixing endgame#james rhodes#tony stark#bruce banner#natasha romanoff
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Blueberryâs Ultimate TUA Masterlist
KEY
Fics are organised alphabetically (articles e.g. âtheâ will not count)Â
mostly gen and fiego ficsÂ
Download links are EPUB files onlyÂ
authors can feel free to send me a msg if they want their ficsâ download link taken down
Links are now unavailable on PC due to a Tumblr link limit (I also had no idea this was a thing, but apparently it is?)
Regular updates can be expected as long as I remain in the fandom
Last Update: 15/10/2020
FANFICTION
âď¸ actions are worth a thousand words by achilleees { E }
â Download Here
âI think it would be best if we keep up the ruse for a short while longer,â Five said. âFor the sake of time-space continuity.â
âOh, so Klaus was right before, huh?â Diego said. âThe fabric of the universe unravels if my hairdresser knows weâre not boning?â
âď¸ Adventures In Childhood [Series] by just_a_sunflower_girl { G / Partially WIP }
â Download Here
Five really should have guessed that something would go wrong. The universe hated him, it was an abject fact. And right now, Five hated the universe right back.
The commission turns Five into a four year old, hoping it will make him easier to kill.
âď¸ all dressed up and naked by cathect { E }
â Download Here
The skirt hanging off of it is pleated and pale pink, with two white stripes near the hemâ like a cheerleader might wear, Diego thinks wildlyâ and Five looks almost awed. Diego doesnât want to assume anything by an expression alone, but he canât quite help it.
Before he can stop himself, the words are tumbling out. âThat would look good on you.â
Or, the one where diego fucks five while he's wearing a skirt.
âď¸ another cog in the murder machine by Ford_Ye_Fiji { T }
â Download Here
Five finally gets the breakdown he deserves
âď¸ As I Want You to Hear Me by karcheri { E }
â Download Here
âItâs hard to explain.â
âTry me.â
Five sighs.
âIâm trying to prove that our current timeline has branched off from itâs initial trajectory by such a large margin that it could only have been caused by the existence of unknown variables interrupting the timeline at non-linear points throughout history. I believe that we are living in...letâs call it timeline 2.0.â
âI donât understand,â Diego says. Nutcase, he thinks. Insanely hot nutcase.
This time Five smirks at him, looking bratty and arrogant and entirely too sharp; âI know you donât.â
Or: What I like to imagine alternate/Sparrow Academy timeline 2019 Five and Diego are up to
âď¸ Bizarre For You Is Normal For Us by pupeez4eva { G }
â Download Here
âI think heâs talking to himself again,â Ashley said, leaning forward. âOkay yeah he is â oh my god, is that kid talking to the mannequin?â
Maggie shot a glance behind her. Yes, the boy was talking to the top half of a mannequin.
âI love working here,â Ashley breathed.
Wherein Klaus, Dave, Five and Dolores go on a double date, and people are confused and very concerned.
âď¸ Blink by Lady_Origami { G }
â Download Here
When Five blinks, sometimes he's back in the world of ash and embers. It's hard to remember how to breathe when that happens. In which Klaus tries to play the role of supportive brother with Ben's help, and Five struggles more than he lets on.
âď¸ Blood like Lemonade by Ford_Ye_Fiji { T }
â Download Here
Hunting high and low to seek revenge, Brand new moral code, got made reluctant renegade. Leaving empty souls when he avenged, Evil spirits flowed he drank the blood like lemonade.
Five's sordid past comes to light in, quite possibly, the most unpleasant way
âď¸ Bloom by jenpix { E }
â Download Here
The first thing he noticed was the heat. A sudden, overwhelming heat. It started by his neck, his throat tightening, cutting off oxygen to his brain. The heat spread lower, permeating throughout his chest and abdomen, focusing and growing in his groin. Every inch of his skin was on fire. He couldnât breathe; he couldnât think. He needed something- anything- to relieve the ache that had abruptly settled in his bones. Lust utterly consumed him.
âSomethingâs wrong.â Diego concluded.
âď¸ Call Me Wild Thing by Electra_XT { E }
â Download Here
âDiegoâs been screwing guys who look exactly like you,â Klaus said.
âTrue,â Five said.
âHe acts embarrassed when you encounter him with one of these lookalikes,â Klaus said.
âTrue,â Five said.
âYou want to bang him,â Klaus said.
Five hesitated.
âď¸ Comes And Goes (In Waves) [Series] by hujwernoo { M }
â Download Here
The apocalypse happens, Five arrives in the rubble, and his entire family is dead.
However, one of them has power over ghosts. And even if being dead seriously sucks sometimes, Klaus is going to be there for his brother.
âď¸ Dead Aren't Good Company, The by RosyPages { G }
â Download Here
Theyâd been back in time for less than a month when their father forced Klaus back into the mausoleum.
But maybe this time his family can do the right thing.
âď¸ Details [Series] by VeteranKlaus { T }
â Download Here
The last time Klaus saw his siblings was at Allison and Patrick's wedding. A lot had changed since then; including the not-so-accidental, irreversible loss of his sight.
There's no time to tell them that, though. Not with the return of their long-presumed-dead brother and the impending apocalypse. Plus, it doesn't matter. He's got Ben as a good seeing-eye ghost.
âď¸ Digging Up The Past by FiveUmbrellaAcademy { E / WIP }
â Download Here
"You want to roleplay me being raped." Five muses, stirring his margarita. He plucks out the tiny umbrella and leaves it abandoned on the edge of the table.
Diego splutters, before glancing wildly over his shoulders.
Five and Diego are in a busy bar, and Diego had absentmindedly suggested Five looking particularly hot, especially when he's pliant, almost as if he's being -
"What the fuck? Shut up, Five." Diego hisses, eyes darting around. "Anyone can hear you."
Five says nothing.
Or: Unfortunately, the roleplay triggers a memory Five desperately wishes he'd forget.
âď¸ do androids dream of electric sheep? by the_crownless_queen { T }
â Download Here
Number Four is crying, and Grace was made to care for those children.
In which Grace was created to protect the children of the Academy. Even, as it turns out, from their father.
âď¸ don't waste your time (or time will waste you) by rosewitchx { T }
â Download Here
He was an old man. He is sixteen. Ben dies next week. How does he know that?
âI think I broke it,â Five stutters, and for the first time in her short life Vanya sees absolute terror in his eyes.
Or, Five travels back again. Something goes wrong.
âď¸ Dulce Periculum (Danger Is Sweet) by Anonymous { E }
â Download Here
Klaus swallows heavily.
He brings up the hand that says âGoodbyeâ on the palm up to Five's hair and rakes his fingers through the strands. When Klaus is blessed with a high pitched whine, he knows he's done for.
or: Five wants something stronger than alcohol.
âď¸ Fighting (Pre)Determinism by chibi_tantei { T / WIP }
â Download Here
They go back in time, determined to rewrite their own family history. Only problem is, only one of them looks the proper age to get near their younger selves.
Or, six months after Five stormed out, determined to time travel, he returns home. His siblings are happy to have him back, but he's acting differently...
(Or, Five goes undercover as himself. Twice the siblings should make saving the world easier, right? Yet somehow, he's only now realizing how many issues his family has to fix.)
âď¸ Five and Dave's Life Changing (Life Saving) Field Trip by neuronary { T }
â Download Here
The little boy, who Dave could now see was not as little as heâd first thought, shoved a tin mug at him. âDrink this.â
Dave drank. It tasted sickly sweet and slightly citrus-y. âWho are you?â
âFive.â The boyâs scowl deepened at Daveâs confusion. âKlausâ brother.â
Or, Five saves Dave's life to stop Klaus from moping. From Dave's perspective, a very grouchy, sleep-deprived twelve-year-old kidnaps him and he finds it much more entertaining than he should.
âď¸ Five And Diego Take Ukraine by yawarakai { G }
â Download Here
Itâs definitely her. She's around fifty, and striking â Diego can see where his brother gets his features. Light skin, grey eyes, hair dark and straight, slim. Sheâs a carbon copy of the boy standing before her.
âDa?â Fiveâs mother asks warily.
âď¸ Forward Trajectory by karcheri { M }
â Download Here
âHa ha,â the cop replies,â Howâs your little troupe of nerds today anyways?â
His Professor groans, burying his face in the manâs neck and Nick winces. He shouldâve anticipated that answer.
âThat bad, huh?â
Or: Every semester students work themselves to the bone to score the highest mark on Professor Five's final project.
âď¸ Ghost Math by pinstripedJackalope { G }
â Download Here
Number Five needs a new hobby now that the apocalypse is off. He decides to help Klaus--and in turn maybe he'll help himself.
âď¸ game of waiting, a by sky_blue_hightops { G }
â Download Here
He was always the fastest. He always beat the others up the stairs, down the halls, through time and space. If there's one lesson he's learned, it's that there's always a finish line. A stopping place. Blood bubbles from between his fingers, and suddenly there's no air in his lungs.
Five jumps in front of a bullet. He calls it quick reflexes. Diego calls it stupidity.
âď¸ Gift-Wrapped by punk_rock_yuppie { E }
â Download Here
Diego discovers Five's secret.
âď¸ god-intoxicated by chrysostomos (nantes) { E }
â Download Here
Of all the things Diego expected to get dragged into this month, meeting a mythological witch, finding out Five is married, and rescuing him from his unwanted sun god husband were not on the list.
âď¸ handling myself by achilleees { E }
â Download Here
Five pressed his lips together. âI advise against⌠touching them with your bare hands,â he said, taking the pills out of his pocket and dropping them into Diegoâs gloved palm. âIt would be unwise.â
In the light streaming from the Academy windows, Diego could see the sheen of sweat on his skin, trickling down his temple.
âOh my god,â Diego said, starting to laugh.
âď¸ Happy Accidents by Starrstruck_64 { G }
â Download Here
Youâre making a mess, is what Diego wants to snap back. Instead he hears his momâs voice clear as day say âboys will be boysâ and without thinking heâs moving on autopilot.
Diego can feel his hands clenching rhythmically at his sides before heâs moving forward to take the bowl from Klaus and ripping the apron off in one smooth motion. Discarding the bowl to the side he works on getting the strings untangled and slips the apron over his own clothes.
âOut.â
He has so much work to do. The pancake is beyond salvaging, the kitchen is a mess, and heâs fairly certain the batter is inedible.
Aka: the fic where Diegoâs mothering instincts go wild
âď¸ haven't you heard of meditation? by rosesareredvioletsareblue { T }
â Download Here
"Klaus, you have a piece of glass sticking out of your neck!"
Klaus felt for the glass, wincing as he found it.
"Oh yeah. Fun." It took all of Five's willpower not to throttle him.
âď¸ Hidden Variables Theory, The by siriuspiggyback { T }
â Download Here
Something has disturbed the space-time continuum, and it's up to Five to figure out what it is.
With a bit of luck, and a lot of alcohol, he might even manage to do it before he snaps and murders his siblings.
âď¸ Honey and Vinegar by JayTRobot { M }
â Download Here
The Handler sends Five on a mission only he can complete - to seduce a known pedophile for information. Then kill him.
Five doesn't appreciate playing the honeypot.
âď¸Â I Want It (I Got It) by Electra_XT { E }
â Download Here
âOh, Christ,â Five said, starting to grin. âDiego, no. Donât tell me youâre actually into being calledââ
âShut up,â Diego muttered.
âItâs not sexy,â Five said. âItâs cliche and corny and macho and self-aggrandizing, and Iâm disappointed in you.â He waited a beat. âDaddy.â
âď¸ i'm gonna be here til i'm nothing (but bones in the ground) by iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid { T }
â Download Here
Someone definitely just punched him in the chest, right? Thatâs the reason for that feeling? Or that last batch of pills had something seriously off-label mixed into them. Because thereâs no way. Thereâs no fucking way.
He squeezes his eyes shut until dots burst behind his eyelids, but when he opens them, the hallucination doesnât go away.
â⌠Five?â
âď¸ I'm The Daddy? by TUA (IAMS) { G / WIP }
â Download Here
Five spends fifteen years in the apocalypse and two years working for the Temps Commission before breaking his contract and time traveling back to the year 2003; just a year after he originally went missing.
According to his calculations, wiping Reginald's existence from the timeline means the apocalypse never occurs. But of course, this leaves several newly orphaned fourteen year olds in his care.
Let the family bonding and therapy ensue.
âď¸ if the sky comes falling down by synchronicities { T }
â Download Here
The equations are still wrong.
In 2002, Number Seven wonders why her siblings are acting odd.
(Or, the post-finale âVanya doesnât remember the time travelâ fic)
âď¸ If You're Different And You Know It (you're not alone) by M3zzaTh3M3z { T }
â Download Here
Five was different. Heâd always known. Different from most people, what with his freakish birth, powers and unconventional upbringing, all that old news. And different from his siblings. He was smarter. His powers were stronger. And heâd never picked a name. All that was old news too. But there was something else that separated him from the rest, something he didnât know how to put a finger on, how to categorize, analyse, understand. Five didnât like not understanding. It was probably Klaus that made him first notice something was off.
âď¸ Is the sadness everlasting? (love, I think it is) by ArmedWithMyComputer { T }
â Download Here
A look into what Klaus' newly discovered ability could mean for the siblings.
Diego could feel his whole body trembling as he faced the ghosts, only able to take shallow breaths as he struggled to process the true horror of what he was seeing.
And then they started howling.
The sound pierced though his stupor and forced him to his knees instantly. It was like nothing Diego had ever experienced before, and he was consumed with the intensity and overwhelmed by a deep chilling fear. It felt as though his mind had been taken over and all he could hear was the shrieks of grief, more intense than any emotion he had ever felt.
âď¸ It Does(n't) Matter by MYSTERYstew { T }
â Download Here
Itâs a familiar feeling, being lifted up by Luther and tossed around like he weighs nothing (to Luther he certainly does), it was a favorite move of Lutherâs as a child. Nostalgia is not what Five feels, heâs too busy flailing as Luther throws him over the railing.
or, Five fails a jump
âď¸ Jealousy Sucks by FiveUmbrellaAcademy { E / WIP }
â Download Here
"God, Diego." Five rubbed his temples, sounding exasperated. "He's our brother."
"I'm your brother, too." Diego blurts out. Fuck, now he's sounding like an insecure, whiny boyfriend. Perfect.
Five just stares back at Diego, his eyebrows burrowing.
At the physical age of seventeen, Five has, in Klaus' words, grown up hot.
âď¸ Just One Minute by willowhisperer { T }
â Download Here
Five holds up his end of the deal, soaked in blood. The Handler decides to toy with him a little while longer.
Maybe it's revenge, maybe she's riding the high of her shiny new position as head of the Commission.
Really, she just wants to win, once and for all.
âď¸ Kinktober Day 12 - Crossdressing by Multifangirl69 { E }
â Download Here
The Umbrella Academy Kinktober Fest//Day 12
âď¸ Kitten Socks by sky_blue_hightops { G }
â Download Here
Klaus's lost his favorite pair of socks (again) (Ben shut up) and finds them in an unexpected place.
âď¸ Lessons 'verse [Series] by Soulykins { T }
â Download Here
Five was maybe four years old when he figured out that he was pretty much ride or die for his siblings. He was also four when he figured out that in the Umbrella Academy, you could never let Reginald Hargreeves figure out what you loved lest he use it against you. There was safety in aloof indifference, more than could be found anywhere else under their roof.
Five times Five Hargreeves protected his siblings the best ways he could, and the one time he failed.
âď¸ Lethe by shoelaces { T }
â Download Here
Le¡the | A river in Hades whose waters cause drinkers to forget their past.
Or: Five loses his memories instead of Vanya, and it falls to his siblings to raise a superpowered teenager in the 1960s, all whilst preserving their own new lives and preventing yet another apocalypse.
âď¸ Like an abyss by fridayyy { T }
â Download Here
For the second time, Five has to (gets to?) grow up.
âď¸ Like Oxygen by sevansa { T }
â Download Here
Klaus's powers may be a bit more extensive than just seeing the dead, he's not sure what to do about that.
OR
The one where Klaus's power is not ghosts, but souls and that makes a hell of a difference.
âď¸ master of my domain by achilleees { E }
â Download Here
âYouâre asking five 13-year-old boys not to jerk off for â it canât be done,â Luther says. âNow that weâre older, it would be different, but back then ââ
âExcuse me, I could do it,â Five says. âI could certainly outlast all of you.â
They all look at each other.
âOh, no,â says Allison.
âď¸ Meet the Hargreeves Siblings by AmyR { G }
â Download Here
Klaus is found passed out by a confused Patch and Beaman. When Diego comes to get him, refusing to divulge who the unconcious man was, things get weird. At least the first time. The second time, it was a different person. And then the third. Then the fourth.
Until finally, explanations are demanded.
âď¸ Mellow Rays of a Departing Sun [Series] by Emotionally_Detached (Yeah_Toast) { T }
â Download Here
He makes it. He time travels and makes it through another apocalypse. He makes it, but his siblings don't.
His siblings don't make it, except he's in his own childhood and they're still here, alive and thirteen and he can fix things.
He will fix things
âď¸ Midmorning Coffees and Therapy Sessions by wereworm { G }
â Download Here
Local woman working at coffeeshop accidentally adopts a child and gives advice with a focus on getting closer to siblings when she, herself, has a sub-optimal relationship with her sister.
Or the time Five went to get a good cup of coffee and ended up slowly befriending the barista while trying to reconnect with the siblings he hasn't seen since his childhood without the looming threat of the apocalypse anymore.
âď¸ most dangerous place in the world, the [Series] by Princess_Sarcastia { T }
â Download Here
"Grace is the third model in a series created by and for Sir Reginald. Â She has access to the knowledge obtained by her predecessors in their time assisting Sir Reginald in his many endeavors.
All three of them were primarily designed as protectors. Â Do no harm, just as Mr. Asimov said!
But Grace is slightly different."
[priority one: protect the children]
âď¸ Need a Vacation by Electra_XT { E }
â Download Here
âYou ready for a relaxing weekend at the beach?â Diego said.
âThrilled,â Five said, looking down at the map in his hands. âA relaxing weekend of hunting down a hired killer and pretending Iâm dating my brother.â
âď¸ New Life, A by BirdInTheCave { T }
â Download Here
Allison had convinced Ray to come back to 2019 with her and her family and after a month of being cooped up in the house with the other Hargreeves plus their own unconventional guests, Ray suggests they spend some time alone. He's still struggling to fully comprehend the new world he's stepped into but he's determined that with Allison at his side he can get used to anything. Allison can't find a reason to say no. She should have said no.
Luckily for her, Five will always be there for his family, now that he's back.
âď¸ Next time, hire a nanny by TheArchaeologist { M }
â Download Here
While the rest of his family go out to Vanyaâs concert for the evening, Five, still recovering from the remains of a lingering chest infection, agrees to watch Claire. He is fifty-nine, he can handle a little girl for the night.
Everything goes fine.
Until it very much doesn't.
âď¸ Not my body, not my life (But I am here) by Panonnymous_Bloom { G }
â Download Here
He wasn't going to explain to Diego why exactly he was following Allison's every move with his eyes because he didn't own anybody any explanations, especially not his simpleton of a brother who seemed to think that every Alpha was going to pounce on Allison at the first sign of any heat.
Allison's decision to spend her heat in the house leads Five to a small realization - and even smaller desire - but he will kill a thousand men before admitting to it.
âď¸ Not with me by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden) { T }
â Download Here
They never asked if any of that blood was his. Five is bleeding, and he is also giving up.
AU to 2X07, with hurt Five because after all that boy has been through...
âď¸ Number Five | And The Things that Make Him Tick [Series] by Kraeyola { T }
â Download Here
It's only been two weeks for him.
AKA: Five succumbs to two weeks worth of badly cared for (physical and emotional) injuries, and ends up extremely feverish.
âď¸ On My Terms by CivilBores { T }
â Download Here
âI did what you asked,â he tells her. âNow, the briefcase.â
Her eyebrows raise in mock-surprise, red lips curling up her face in a sadistic smile.
âYou didnât think that was all, did you?â she asks.
AU: The Handler gives Five a slightly different deal.
âď¸ On This Day In History by telm_393 { M }
â Download Here
Five had a...special relationship with the Handler during his time at the Commission, or maybe he didnât. After the apocalypse doesnât happen, he tries to order his memories of the last few years while also actively suppressing them. It goes badly.
His siblings are worried, and genuinely want to help. They are not unsuccessful.
âď¸ Out of My Mind by Electra_XT { E }
â Download Here
âWhat happened?â Diego said. He looked down at himself. âAm I hurt?â
What happened? echoed a voice from the back of his head.
âď¸ Outside, For the First Time by Trees_Frogs_andPotentially_Treefrogs { G }
â Download Here
Grace is torn between her programming to obey the rules set by Mr. Hargreeves, and her duty to the children, and decides that being a person is self determined.
âď¸ Partners, Parents, or None of the Above by DarkFairytale { T }
â Download Here
Kenny's mom assuming that Diego and Klaus were A) a couple and B) Number Fiveâs parents was both bemusing and amusing at the time. But that was because it was the only time it had ever happened. Now though? Now they just can't understand why these misunderstandings keep happening.
âď¸ Raising the Bar by Electra_XT { E }
â Download Here
Five looked ten years older. He was still youthful, early twenties, but he had suddenly and visibly become an adult. Diego had braced himself for⌠something, but not this. He was dressed heartbreakingly preppyâ neatly tailored slacks, a shirt that fit him like it was made for him, and a casual blazer. Diego hadnât known a blazer could be casual before, but the way Five wore the linen jacket made it seem genuinely effortless.
Of all the ways this new body thing could have gone, Diego didnât expect him to be hot.
âď¸ rude awakening by Soulykins { T / WIP }
â Download Here
When Five wakes up, he just knows someone is in the room with him. Of course, even he didn't except to come face to face with the Handler who he'd thought to be very very dead. And he especially didn't expect her to break into his room and watch him sleep while waiting for him to wake up.
It's very fortunate that Diego and Klaus show up to wake him up and take offense to some random lady in the same room as their very uncomfortable, very thirteen-year-old brother.
âď¸ Screaming in the Face of Communication by papayaromantic { T }
â Download Here
It's not that he doesn't want to pay attention to Five, just that he seriously can't hear what the boy is saying past the wailing of the torn apart woman in front of him.
âď¸ Second First Time by venDi { E }
â Download Here
Five spent his early years learning about Alpha biology -- and he knows, recognizes the sudden shift in his family's scent, that his heat has sent them all into a very, very early rut.
âď¸ Servus by Anonymous { E }
â Download Here
"They had been given a chance to start over, all of them, together. At least, thatâs what Five intended, when he pulled he and his siblings from imminent death...He had watched his siblings be swept back to their collective childhood, armed with the knowledge of what was to come, and how to prevent it. He, on the other hand, had ended up somewhere entirely different."
Five receives one, final business proposal from the Handler, and her methods of persuasion are far from conventional.
âď¸ Shadow Elixir, The by Phantom_Vidar { E / WIP }
â Download Here
With the apocalypse averted the Hargreeves attempt to rebuild their lives and transition into something that resembles a fraction of normalcy. A year later and strange visions start appearing to Klaus, of a dark space contaminated by souls bygone and a voice who aches to be free; especially Ben's. The apocalypse has passed but now another disaster awaitsâ one that Diego and Five might have accidentally walked into.
Alternatively: Diego and Five have sex and coincidentally start the next stage of the end of the world.
âď¸ shaking like I shook before by Anonymous { T }
â Download Here
Five tries to deal with it alone, until he learns that he doesnât have to.
âď¸ skirts and sweaters by slightlyworriedhuman { T }
â Download Here
"I don't want to be a âcute little schoolboyâ anymore, alright?â Five snapped. For some reason, the thought of himself as a schoolboy was enough to make his skin prickle. Was it the implication that he was younger than the rest of them, less mature despite his life?
...Yeah, it was definitely that. Absolutely.Five wants a change in wardrobe. His siblings are more than happy to help.
âď¸ small changes by calypso42 { T }
â Download Here
âI need to ask you something.â He set down the large stack of books he was carrying beside him. Klaus glanced at a few of the titles - Consciousness in the Brain - Memory & the Role of the Hippocampus - Soul vs. Matter: A Comprehensive Look at the Origins of Sentience - and grimaced.
âAre you⌠having an existential crisis, or something? Because I am possibly the worst person you could go to for that.â
...
When Five goes to Klaus to ask him something about his powers, Klaus doesnât think much of it. At least, until he realizes that what he thought was simple curiosity was actually deeper than that, leading to a revelation about Five himself.
âď¸ Snacktime. [Series] by HotCocoaaa { G }
â Download Here
There was a wolf spider, just, chilling on the table that morning when Diego came down for breakfast. A...a really big wolf spider. Just...a real hunk of a thing.
(âYou...you justâŚ.you just ate a spider.â He murmured.)
It didn't end well.
âď¸ Special punishment by Anonymous { M }
â Download Here
Five was the only one with a tattoo on his rib
âď¸ sweater weather by KittenAnarchy { G }
â Download Here
Number Five, a dryer, and his first blink.
âď¸ take shelter by aloneintherain { T }
â Download Here
AU where the apocalypse doesnât follow the Hargreeves to the 1960s. Without the threat of nuclear annihilation hanging over their heads, the siblings can take the time to be a family again.
Until they find out that the Handler has been blackmailing Five.
âď¸Â There are Stones in my Stomach and Worms on my Plate by TheArchaeologist { M }
â Download Here
If you ever need a crash diet, try the apocalypse. It is fat free, dairy free, lacking in all the vital vitamins and minerals, and totally organic.
After all, look at Five. Weeks after stopping the apocalypse and he still canât finish a plate of food.
âď¸ there is simply nothing worse than knowing how it ends by Drhair76 { G }
â Download Here
"What's this?" He said pointing a finger at the bread and peanut butter that was laid across the table top.
Five rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "What do you think. It's a sandwich."
"Oh?" Klaus reached out a hand to brush the sleeve of his beloved hoodie. "And what's this?"
or, the one where Klaus 'loses' a hoodie, Five gets a hug and Ben is proud.
âď¸ they could care less (as long as someone'll bleed) by Ford_Ye_Fiji { M }
â Download Here
Number Five is cornered once again by commission agents, but this time with his family.
Diego and Klaus learn something about their littlest-oldest brother.
âď¸ this is a bad town (for such a pretty face) by luciimariiellii { T }
â Download Here
Fiveâs gone. (How the Hargreeves cope, and how they reunite.)
âď¸ time on my hands by achilleees { E }
â Download Here
âIf you orgasm, youâll die,â Five said with a grimace.
Diegoâs eyes went wide.
âBet you wish youâd just been sterilized now,â Five said.
âď¸ Timelines 1-2.1 [Series] by dgalerab { M / Partially WIP }
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As the world ends, Five takes his siblings back into their child bodies on the day he originally left. With the knowledge of how the world ends fresh in their minds, the Hargreeves siblings do what they can to leave clues for their past selves on how to grow up a little less fucked up before returning to the present.
A present where they all have different lives they can't remember, there's a fun new apocalypse on the way, and Reginald Hargreeves remembers the day where all his children suddenly and inexplicably lost their minds and all respect for him at once a little too well.
âď¸ to unexplain the unforgivable by darkviverna { T }
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Ability to see the dead and having a temporal assassin for a brother donât mix well.
âď¸ Too Much Too Little by 1spideyson { T }
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Five says nothing on the ride back, just gently presses the tips of thin fingers to his eyes and temples like his head is a new instrument heâs learning to play. Like heâs searching for the right notes.
Diego tries not to cast too many worried glances the boyâs way, but when Five crawls into Diegoâs bed, shaking and grey, he canât stop himself from speaking up.
A look at Five and Diego's relationship through a h/c lens.
âď¸ Too Old To Be So Young by KaseyBeth { T }
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Five winced loudly, pushing his head off the floor to see bright red smeared across his chest and stomach; crimson soaked into his shorts, running down his leg. His head fell back against the ground dizzyingly, and he groaned as someone touched the wound, biting his bottom lip as he tried to stay conscious. The end of life, of everything, was in three days; they didnât have time for this, he didnât have time for this. A bullet wound, a stupid bullet wound and all that stupid concern and worry, was just going to slow them down. There wasnât time for mistakes, or hiccups, or rest and recovery. It was the end of the fucking world.Â
âď¸ trans diego & child five [Series] by iamnotalizard { G }
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eudora and beaman are surprised to find out diego has a kid; they're more surprised when they see what their relationship is like
âď¸ traumaversary by WeWalkADifferentPath { T }
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It follows him like an unscratched itch. Under his skin, over his body, around his energy, like a mosquito that wonât leave him the fuck alone.
April 1st. April 1st. April 1st.
(A character study of Five, with some inevitable family feels, in honour of March 24th).
âď¸ two can be as bad as one by myeyesarenotblue { M }
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âFive, sweet little Fiveâ Klaus says, from where heâs sitting cross-legged on the floor, next to one of the living roomâs couches, instead of sitting on it like a normal person. âWe love you but what the fuckâ
Five growls, like heâs a dog or something. âIt should correct itselfâ
âď¸ Uncle Five PT1 by glitched-coffee { G }
â Download Here
Allison has to take care of Claire without warning the others but its all fine and dandy until Claire thinks sheâs old enough to hear everything about Five. Sheâs seven.
âď¸ Unexpected Future, An by aseies { T / WIP }
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âIâm sure youâre looking forward to finding a way back to your own time as soon as possible,â Nedzu said. âI want you to know that U.A. will do everything in its power to help you achieve that goal. Time travel is a complicated equation to solve, but Iâm sure if we put our heads together weâll come up with something!â
Five raised a skeptical eyebrow. âAnd youâre just going to do that out of the goodness of your heart? Iâm not even old enough for high school yet.â
âWell, weâre all heroes for a reason, no? What good are we if we canât help a single child in need?â Nedzu pointed out with a pleasantly neutral smile as he sipped his tea.
OR: Instead of time traveling into the apocalypse, thirteen-year-old Five Hargreeves teleports in the middle of the USJ fight.
He gets a couple of new dads out of it.
âď¸Â Vital Signs by aye_of_newt { M }Â
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Sometimes, it's difficult for Klaus to tell if someone is alive or dead.When Five shows up, covered in blood after killing the Board, Klaus panics.
âď¸ walls kept tumbling down, the by Ingu { T }
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It started small.
There was a nagging ache in his chest, phantom pain from where the bullets had pierced his flesh, in the overwritten timeline that never will be.
(the one where rewinding time doesn't miraculously resolve mortal gunshot wounds)
âď¸ We All Deserve Second Chances (but don't repeat your mistakes) by justarandomword, wolvesandnovas { T }
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Time-travelling gave Ben a second chance at life. He's not about to let Reginald Hargreeves ruin that for him and Klaus.
(a.k.a. Reginald takes Klaus' dog tags and the aftermath.)
âď¸ we didn't choose this life, we're just (kind of) living it [Series] by noodlerdoodler { T / Partially WIP }
â Download Here
Five couldnât move, standing by and watching complacently, as his younger brother grabbed him roughly by the front of his sweater. It was like he was watching a play he wasn't apart of, yet that was definitely his small body being tossed over the balcony. No doubt, Luther thought that he would just jump out of the way. He'd always jumped out of the way, sometimes without even meaning to, but now visions of a world on fire flashed through his head as his body plummeted towards the ground. Seemingly, he was tumbling through the air in slow motion and absentmindedly, Five wondered if this was his life flashing before his eyes. All he saw was the desolate world heâd left behind weeks ago.
When Five hit the ground, it was with a sickening cracking noise.
âOh my god, Luther, what have you done?â
âď¸Â with two arms by karcheri { T }
â Download Here
What it comes down to, really, is that Five had been too eager for results. Once it became clear to him that there was a connection between his powers and his energy level the obvious course of action, as he saw it, was to test this information. The hypothesis was this: higher energy levels = stronger powers and the easiest way to get more energy is to eat more. Pretty simple stuff. Too simple.Â
or Five times that Five starves himself and one time that he gets called out on it.
âď¸ world of options, a by achilleees { E }
â Download Here
âSo did you ask Five about me?â Klaus asked.
âWas I supposed to do that?â Diego said.
âYou are the worst fucking wingman,â Klaus said.
âď¸ year that wasn't, the by achilleees { E }
â Download Here
Diego turned to Five. âIâve already, uh, lived today. This has already happened.â
Everyone went still.
âOoh, thatâs a mind-fuck,â said Klaus.
âď¸ you from yesterday by questors (sieges) { T }
â Download Here
The difference between who his siblings once were and who they are now.
âď¸ You Put Your Head In My Hands by shadowsapiens { M }
â Download Here
âI need a favor.â Five scrambles to his feet, fluffy dark tail lashing behind him. âDonât worry, itâs not the apocalypse.â
âď¸ You Shook Me All Night Long by Persephxneeee { M }
â Download Here
Diego was right, Five thinking too much sometimes.
âď¸ zero to sixty by achilleees { E }
â Download Here
âMan, have you seen me?â said Diego. âAre you really that surprised?â
Oh, Five thought.
âSeems right,â said Klaus, pleased. âOther than the turtlenecks. Very hard to take you seriously as a Dom in the turtlenecks.â
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(1/?) I'm neutral to EA tbh, I like it sometimes but this isn't my OTP. I really like your blog, though. And what I want to say is - I used to ship KA after F1, but they totally ruined them for me as a couple in shorts and then in F2 (and so did they with the sisters' relation :(). As for F2, I totally agree with what you said about personality transplant the main trio went through. But put this aside, I have another thought - I feel so sorry for Anna after F2. First, she became the queen, and
(2/?) she's never asked for it, it's not her world. She didn't even want to go on that adventure in the first place. She also "lost" her sister (true love) and best friend. And now let's consider for a moment that all these 'personality transplants' are true, and that we count the deleted scenes and shorts: so she's always wanted but 1 thing, to be with her sister. In OFA Elsa promised her they'll always be together (in the song), and she'd done the same before, at the end of F1, in FF and even (3/?) at the beginning of F2, blah blah. And now she totally, utterly betrayed Anna's trust (the ice boat), never apologized AND then went to live in the forest for God knows what fucking reason, and didn't even attend Anna's coronation (and made Anna a queen because she didn't want to do it anymore, not even asking for her opinion) nor replied for her letter. What a stinker. Then the parents - after the boat scene it seems everything has always been Elsa-centric and Anna couldn't even have her     (4/?) time to mourn. Then Kristoff in the Nokk scene. She was engaged to him, she decided to trust him after what happened with Hans, and he betrayed her trust, too. All he did for these 3 years (including FF and OFA) was a lie, he didn't mean it and didn't want it at all. Plus it seems their relationship has been pointless all along, because they can't even communicate well. I know Anna treated him badly in F2, but well, it clearly shows Elsa is her true love and she can't focus on anyone else       (5/?) at the moment... but they (KA) clearly weren't meant for each other anyway. And what I want to say, they ruined Anna's character, they took literally everything for her to five her this stupid powerful song and 'happy ending' she's never asked for. I mean, sure, she's dreamed of romance in F1, but in F2 it's none of her priorities, and definitely that's not the kind of relation ship I'd expect they'd make for her after watching F1. I don't like TNRT because I think it would be better to       (6/?) give Anna NATURAL circumstances to prove her worth, independence and strenght, instead of forcing some stupid stuff. And I don't like the fact KA relation is promoted as healthy... I don't think of it as unhealthy... it's just nonexistent. And stupid. And I totally agree that the sisters' relationship IS unhealthy - but only after how F2 pictured it! So, to sum up, she was my favourite character and I hate everything that's happened to her (as I hate it also with E and K, but well,(7/7) that's not the point of this message), she doesn't even look like her anymore, since the charades. And I hope that you won't delete this message, I didn't mean to promote KA, just wanted to share how I feel about this movie. And I truly like EA. I can't talk about it to any other part of fandom, though, for ppl who ship KA think it's a perfect ending. Sorry for such a long message! I hope the stupidity of F2 creators are the only thing that bothers you on these hard days. Stay safe!   Â
I really like your post, Iâm sorry if it took me 2 days to reply but I wanted to be at pc and not by phone.First of all....let me say that this: â she's always wanted but 1 thing, to be with her sister â is essentially who Anna is. She spent her whole life wanting one thing: to spend time with her sister and prove her sheâs worth it.
And how are they gonna do that? Apart. Playing it off like âsheâs a grown up, she can do stuff by herselfâ, when she ALWAYS DID EVERYTHING BY HERSELF!!!!
It doesnât make sense even from a psychological pov. She always feared to lose this person, she always wanted to be with this person, now she loses it. The LAST thing one would do is say âoh ok well Iâll be fine on my own!â
It doesnât make any fucking sense. I donât know who they paid to tell them it does (trauma experts LOL), but they wasted their money.
The mistake they did with Anna and that, IMO, widened the popularity gap between Elsa and Anna in Frozen 2, was to give her a storyline so unpopular and not relatable for KIDS.
Kids donât want to know how theyâll feel when their sister will die, ITâS SO FUCKING WEIRD.
Kids want to see a badass princess with a sword, who fights for her kingdom!! And yet in Frozen 2 they took the one who had powers and who could fight, and turned her into an hippie who does nothing at all in a forest, and the hero, the princess who could be fucking cool, is now a bad copy of what her sister was.
Being Queen, after losing her sister, surviving another trauma, having such a not relatable storyline for a kid.....itâs not a victory.
The only ones who think itâs cool are KA fans for obvious reasons, but they shouldât be so happy since he was proved ânot good enoughâ to stand by her side.
I do not agree with you on the sisters relationship being unhealthy and I said many times that was NOT Disneyâs intent. Because to paint a sisterly relationship as unhealthy wouldnât be appropriate for a kids movi and they would NEVER do it, (can you imagine the MONEY THEYâLL LOSE???? Why would they do that? Paint as negative something that makes them sell more than everything else on the market???? Itâs crazy!!) and because the weird vibe you got about the relationship comes from the rewriters.For exemple Elsa ignores Anna a bit too much, but itâs because she was supposed to be succubus of a voice and being careless in her search for it.She was supposed to die, and the audience would have said âoh yeah, she even ignored the poor Anna to follow that siren, and she got herself killedâ. It was supposed to be painted as a negative thing.But this is just an exemple of one rewrite, many other details, Iâm sure, made you come to your conclusion, but I know theyâre all results of last minute rewritings, so I have to ignore them.
Itâs pretty much the same arguments over and over again, codependency, unhealthy relationship, and Iâm tired to debunk them so Iâll just go on with my reply. :)
I agree that Anna doesnât look like Anna anymore. She was reckless, impulsive, free-spirited and adventurous.
(now this makes me laugh at this point):
Anyway, they had to give her a personality transplant (simply âgrowing upâ doesnât do that) to achieve an end they desperately wanted, who knows why.
Jenn and friends wanted to give her the âDisney happy endingâ, a kingdom and a dude, and they had to destroy what Frozen was, in order to achieve it. A story about 2 sisters, who always wanted to be together. A story about family, where a single (queer coded) Queen was ruling and is now replaced by the same old boring hetero couple (while the weirdo with powers was sent elsewhere, who cares where).
How can people trust someone who wanted Elsa as a villain, and wanted her dead, I will never understand it.
Iâm not surprised they ruined Anna too, considering what they did to Elsa.
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Pokemon Sword/Shield: A review of my experience
So, Iâve rung in the new year in style with a bad cold. Fortunately, I received a new Switch Lite for Christmas and a copy of Pokemon Sword, so at least Iâve had something to do while sitting about feeling miserble. I beat the game last night, and I figured Iâd say a few words about what I thought of it. There are major spoilers ahead!
Graphics & Music
First of all, it looks absolutely beautiful. Iâm used to using my 2DS, so the upgrade to the Switch Lite was quite the jump. When compared to previous Pokemon titles, the game is absolutely stunning to gaze upon. Whatâs more, the environments are varied, creative, colorful, and just lovely. They were such a delight that when I first started the game and had control of my character, the first thing I did was simply stand there for a solid five minutes just gazing on the dynamic, gorgeous countryside, butterfree flapping in the distance, Wooloo rolling around, people going about their day. It helps that I do love the UK and Iâve visited it in the past, and I have to say they did an excellent job evoking the feel of those landscapes. Exploring the towns and the environments was always a joy. Their layouts were natural, intuitive, and walking around or biking around was easy and fun. I was eager to explore every nook and cranny. Accompanying the environments was excellent music. All of the tracks were on-point. They set the feel of the location and they were all great to listen to.
UI & Battle Mechanics
Another thing you notice right away is the UI has been beautifully updated. Itâs logically and appealingly organized, itâs very speedy, and there are a lot of quality-of-life tweaks and updatesâ such as accessing your pokemon PC from just about anywhere. (or easy access to Flying from the regular Map menu!) These tweaks have really helped smooth and streamline things and make for a better experience. It took some getting used to some of the tweaks, such as a forced Experience Share for the entire pokemon party. Iâm still not sure what I think of that, but I kept reminding myself that full-party experience is standard in other RPGs, so itâs not so huge a jump for Pokemon to adopt it as well.
Characters
The game is also populated by many characters that I enjoyed. The character designs were well thought-out and appealing, and the characters themselves were fun. Hop may have a bit of a doofy haircut and be a bit of a dork, but heâs still an enjoyable rival. Professor Magnolia seems cool, as does her daughter Sonia. As we meet each of the gym leaders in turn, I generally liked them, as well. They did a good job adding little bits of personality to each of them. And yes, I even liked Leon, the over-the-top and bizarrely-dressed Champion. He was hammy and I think it worked well for him.
The Sport of Pokemon & Dynamaxing
Something else I found myself really enjoying was how much the game was emphasizing the sport aspect to Pokemon battling in the Galar region. This is something the game has always had to a certain extent, but never to the degree it has here. Pokemon battling was a huge spectacle here in Galar, done in massive statiums to huge, roaring crowds. This is a world of difference when compared to the solemn, trial-like, solitary experience of the Elite Four. It just brings and entirely different energy to the experience. And I found I really liked that. During the first few gym battles, I wasnât entirely into it at first, largely because the first few gym fights were incredibly easy. But after they got a little harder, I started to get into the feel of things.
Naturally, the whole huge emphasis on the electric thrill of competition and of huge, bombastic spectacle was tied into the gimmick of this particular game: Dynamaxing. And as lukewarm as I was about Dynamaxing when I first heard it announced (Iâm pretty tired of these gimmicksâ Z-Moves, Mega Evolutions and the likes), I have to give credit where creditâs due: it was at least tied very thoroughly into the plot and into the fabric of the game. It didnât feel tacked on, and I wasnât resentful about actually using Dynamaxing. It may have been a silly gimmick, but it was still enjoyable to use, because it made sense to help entertain the crowds with oversized spectacle, and because there was a certain amount of enjoyment in the added strategy it required. Iâm glad I was able to get into it.
I think the highest point for me about the gym challenge experience was when I was facing off Raihan. Hereâs the chap theyâve been hyping for a while about facing up against, because heâs the last gym leader standing before you move onto the Semi Finals and the Finals. When you walk through the dark corridor out into the pitch, you can feel the electric atmosphere; you can hear people cheering your name as their new favorite trainer hopeful; and then, Raihan, the man who always acted so casual and smooth and cool, suddenly shows his intense side on the field of battle. He flings out two pokeballs and brags about mixing things up for you with a doubles format and with the weather, and dares you to step up for the challenge.
My two front pokemon come outâ Snowdrop, my Frosmoth, and Bazz, my Grapploct. After all that weather bragging, I decide to show him, and have my Frosmoth flip his sandstorm weather over to Hail. Surprised, my opponent acknowledges that was a pretty nice move on my part. I then Blizzard and Superpower his first pair of pokemon out of the picture.
Iâm feeling pretty good, and then he sends out his second pair of pokemon. I have no idea what the heck the Duraludon is supposed to be. Then he Dynamaxes it, which takes me a little off guard, as I had expected it later, but of course this is doubles so there is no later. I stall for a little bit, trying to decide what to hit the Duraludon with, and my first few pokemon go down, and the sandstorm kicks back in.
I decide to send out my Corviknight out for Dynamaxing. But Iâm still floundering over the best tactic for this unfamiliar pokemon. I try Max Airstream to see how much it does, but itâs not a very impressive chunk. Then his Sandaconda gets a Glare off on my Corviknight, which is a pain. I waste one of my Dynamax turns getting paralyzed. Iâve fainted several other pokemon in the process of things. I start to think Iâm toast and Iâll need to replay the match. Then I realize this stupid-looking Duraludon is, of course, a Steel type. Iâd just recently put Body Press onto my Corviknight for some move variety. On my final Dynamax turn, I use it. It utterly destroys the Duraludon, which had just lost its Dynamax.
My own Corviknight falls back down into its normal state. Thereâs only one pokemon left on either one of our teams; his damned Sandaconda and my half-health Corviknight. The sand is still up, but my Corviknight didnât mind that at all. It did, however, mind the paralysis and the Fire Fang the snake kept using. Fortunately, Corviknight is still a tanky beast, and I blasted away with Drill Pecks. It was tense, really down to the wire. Would Corviknight tank enough hits to make it? Would he get paralyzed at an inopportune moment?
Fortunately, he makes it, finishing off Sandaconda and taking the match. As I cheer at the victory, my pokemon cheers too, amongst all the swirling sand. The crowd roars, and I feel a genuine respect for my opponentâs skill. It was a good fight. Afterwards, when I returned to the lobby, people were congratulating me on my victory, and it felt truly nice.
Moments like these are not common in pokemon games. At least, they arenât for me. I had felt everything during that matchâ the magnificent spectacle of the dynamaxing, the tricks my opponent pulled, his keen desire to win, the crowdâs thirst for a good match, my desire to pull through somehow. As it turned out, after that, I didnât have battle quite as good. The Semi-Finals and the Finals were a cakewalk for me. Even the Raihan rematch was ridiculously easy. He changed up his team and made it much worse, so that he had different weather-setters for each poke, lacking any team synergey at all. It was a shame. Perhaps the only reason that match was so close was because I had been briefly intimidated over the doubles format and confused over the  Duraludon, but I do wish those magical experiences happened more often.
Indeed, even my final battle with the Champion was a woeful disappointment. I got off one Dragon Dance with Dragapult and swept the whole team cleanly. That brings up another point, though: the difficulty level of this game. It is ⌠well, not very high. Itâs a shame. I realize itâs a tricky balance, since this game is aimed at a variety of age levels, and they donât want it too difficult for the younger audience. Still, it would be nice for Pokemon to implement a âhard modeâ to help deal with this issue. Perhaps if they did, we could have more magical moments like the one I had with Raihan.
Character Development & Plot
The low difficulty wasnât the only thing about Pokemon Sword/Shield that sometimes brought disappointment. At the end of the game, I also found the plot sort of ended up in a no-manâs land. Almost all of the plotlines felt unfinished. Marnie looked like a really cool character full of potential, but then nothing ever really happened with her character. Team Yell ended up being very different from all the other âteamsâ of the pokemon universe, in that they were just very vocal and sometimes excessively involved fans of Marnie. I actually liked the idea of the âteamâ not being a group of organized villians up to no good, but Team Yellâs plot ultimately petered out into nothing. The same could be said for other characters. Sonia was a cool-looking character design and again seemed to have a lot of potential as a character, but I never quite understood the point of her plot. She was ⌠uninterested in research, maybe, but became interested? Or was overwhelemed with the work? Or ⌠what, exactly? When she âearnedâ the lab coat, it didnât feel like an accomplishment. There was no weight or clarity to her character arc in the slightest. She didnât even ultimately contribute all that much, because she failed to even be the one to discover the Sword and Shield artifacts.
Again, we find this trend with others, such as Hopâs development. Hop is a cocky, confidant young lad who idolizes his older brother. Eventually he runs into a trainer who throws off his groove, gets into his head with some comments, claiming that heâs dragging his older brotherâs name through the mud by being shite at pokemon battling. Then he starts to doubt and second-guess himself, reshuffle his team and his strategies endlessly, and so forth. Eventually, he seems to âget over itâ and gets his groove back, but we never are given a really firm reason as to why he gets his groove back. What brought about this change? We need to see why heâs learned and grown. And really, even when he does pull his shit together again, has he really learned much from the experience? I assumed his ultimate lesson would be to see his brother more as an equal, not as someone to idolize; as a human who can self-doubt and make mistakes just like him. But the writers passed up the opportunity to go that way with the plot. They just sort of ⌠gave up halfway.
The most of a glimpse we get from that is something given to us from the animation itself, not the writers. Out on the pitch, during the final battle against Leon, when heâs just about to toss his pokemon out, thereâs a moment when he pauses and taps both hands against his face. Itâs a subtle little gesture, as if heâs trying to shake off any gnawing self-doubts and get his head into the game, and it echoes his younger brother, who weâve seen do the same thing. Itâs such a lovely little touch, such a human moment, and to me shows that both brothers have been vulnerable to self-doubt despite their swagger, but in the end can overcome it. I only wish the idea were explored further in the actual plot.
The âevil plotâ of this particular game also feels only half-baked and incomplete. The motivation behind Roseâs actions feels entirely absent to me, as does any logic whatsoever. Whatâs worse, the game leaves behind so many lingering questions. OK, so this slumbering Eternatus is the source of all Dynamax power, and heâs discovered the energy will run out in a thousand years or so. How is waking up Eternatus by feeding it Wishing Stars (which, as Magnolia later reports, are bits of Eternatus itselfâ so, what, feeding  Eternatus pieces of itself?) going to help with that? Will it produce more energy once awake? So he planned on capturing it and ⌠sending it out whenever they needed more energy? Or just keeping it around as a power-giving pet of some sort? But at the end of the game, the player keeps Eternatus for themselves, so doesnât that mean Galar is sort of screwed now? How can the power plant continue to function (and Dynamaxing) if the source of that power is now inside my pokeball? Also, how exactly did Rose wake up Eternatus to begin with/bring about the Darkest Day? Just release all the energy he had at once? Thereâs so much thatâs confusing and unclear. Basically, the plotline felt very half-baked. I had the sense the writing for this game was frankly very rushed.
It doesnât stop there. Oleana, the whole thing with Bede, and other characters are left with tons of lingering questions and unfinished plotthreads as well. I suspect the devs simply ran out of time. Itâs a huge shame, because I enjoyed all of these characters and felt there was so much potential there, but that potential was never really realized.
Pokemon
This generation has a relatively low number of new pokemon, and you do feel that a little bit as youâre going along. The older pokemon that are mixed in were chosen well, in that they blend naturally with the environments they were placed in, and theyâre spaced out nicely, so you encounter a mix of new and old at a nice clip, so they have that going for themselves. But even still, yes, you do start to wish there were a few more surprising faces. Still, thereâs definitely fun to be had with new pokemon, especially for some of the cooler Galar regional variants. (I fully support regional variants and am happy they made a comeback in this generation.)
As youâve no doubt heard by now, thereâs also only a very limited set of old pokemon this game has access to. Any species not listed in the Galar dex simply cannot be transferred over. This has upset many people, but when I played the game, it did not feel lacking for that reason. The sheer number of pokemon in the overall franchise is now staggering. It makes complete sense to not include every species in every game now. They intend to include old pokemon on rotation in future games, and that seems like a fair compromise to me. Am I bummed that my favorite Parasect canât be transferred to Galar? Of course. But Iâm not too worked up over the fact. Heâll see another region someday.
To finish this section off, Iâm going to do a rapid-fire list of my top 5 and bottom 5 of the new pokemon.
Top 5
Corviknight: An absolutely gorgeous design and easily the MPV of my team.
Wooloo/Dubwool: Itâs an adorable ball sheep/ram. You simply canât go wrong with that. One of the first to be revealed of the new pokes, but I can never get bored with it.
Dragapult: A very creative, lizardy Dragon/Ghost creature that adorably shoots its own babies as ammo. I love it.
Grappaloct: So beautiful. Love its design, its stance, the way one tentacle is a belt, love its colors and pattern, its eyes, its cry, everything. Such a badass and I love octopi in general, so a real winner. This is the octopus weâve needed for a while.
Snom/Frosmoth: I mean, in some ways its design isnât revolutionary, since we already have many moth pokemon. However, Snom is still adorable and Frosmoth is still beautiful, something you cannot deny. And itâs been long overdue to get an Ice/Bug. Whatâs more, Snom is based off real caterpillars (jewel caterpillars), which is wonderful.
Bottom 5
Inteleon: A very distinctive design style that doesnât look like it belongs anywhere near a Pokemon game. Just feels very mismatched to me.
Alcremie: I hate sentient food. A massive pet peeve of mine.
Applin: See above.
Duraludon: Sorry, but I still think its design is ugly. I canât get used to it.
Mr. Mime (Galar Variant): No. Mr. Mime is always horrible. Stay away from me. Keep your creepy variant, too.
The Wilds Area
Of course, a review of the game would be incomplete if I didnât mention the Wild Area. This section of the game was really very lovely. I enjoyed exploring what was essentially Breath of the Wild: Pokemon, and I think itâs a wonderful direction for the game to take. Wandering around, finding goodies, rare pokemon, Dynamax dens and all the rest is very entertaining and itâs just beautiful. Really makes you feel like youâre out in nature exploring, and really encountering pokemon in their natural environment. Iâve read people predicting that Game Freak is using the Wild Area in this game as a test, and something they will probably expand upon in later games. If thatâs what they are indeed doing, then I welcome the change. I canât say I am super interested in fighting wild Dynamax pokemon with my friends, but I did enjoy everything else.
Summary
So, would I recommend this game to others? It would depend on who you are. If youâre a big pokemon fan, then yes, of course. Youâll enjoy the beautiful locations to explore, the new pokemon, and the excitement of the Galar sports arenas, as well as some colorful characters. However, you are going to find some flaws. The plot and character arcs are going to eventually end up a little lacking, and youâll find thereâs not as much new content as youâd have preferred. While some aspects of this game are very well polished and complete, others feel rushed. Overall, itâs going to be a mixed experience, but I think that if you like pokemon, you will still enjoy it.
This is a repost on a new blog. The original post was on Jan 1, 2020.
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from: @trilies to: @lighteningdancer / Ginger Pairing: Byakuran/Shoichi
Note: Hey there, Ginger! Youâre quite the familiar name to me at this point, so I got really excited when I pulled your name. Then you gave me so much freedom and so many liberties that I sort of short-circuited on what to write at first, lmao! However, per your advice, I did go with something that I donât really write a lot of, both re: characters and, like⌠tone? Subject matter? I was apparently in A Mood (tw) when I began writing. I do hope that this end result is something that you find any sort of enjoyment in at all. If not, just let me know, because thereâs plenty of other stuff that Iâd love to make for you. Relatedly, let me know if you have an AO3, because Iâd love to put it on this on there properly gifted to you! Unless you donât want your name attached, which is also valid.Â
Content Warnings: Time Travel Fuckery, Alternate Universe Fuckery, Character Death that debatably counts, Suicide, a short Sex Scene, attempts at Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapping, non-detailed Torture, general Abuse, the intense and vaguely defined set of mental issues that come when your brain just gets overloaded with being Yourself but hundreds of times with hundreds of slightly-to-extremely different memories in slightly-to-different worlds aka âbyakuranâs mental state must be a fucking trip"Â
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Once a human tastes food for the first time, they always end up hungering for more, whatever "moreâ might mean for that particular individual. Maybe they look to be sated, content and full and warm. Maybe they look for a taste that canât be beat, by their estimate. Maybe they simple look for something new, something interesting- a change in palate. On some level⌠He thinks Shoichi Irie is like that for him. Byakuran doesn't need him. Of course he doesnât. But if heâs being completely and utterly technical, he doesnât need a lot of the things that he takes for himself, because none of it actually matters in the end. Itâs all just a game, something he does because it's interesting. That would be easy enough for anyone to understand, right? Sometimes you turn on a game counsel and feel the need to get all the achievements, and other times you do it because you want to see how far you can strain the system until it shatters completely. It really all depends, and sometimes, theyâre both the same thing. One day, in one universe, heâll complete the Tri-Ni-Sette, and that will be that. In terms of gaming, he supposes that would be the end all for the main objective. Very fittingly, he comes to learn that it is the most difficult task, no matter how much he prepares and plans. Well, it would be a boring game otherwise. It comes as quite a surprise that what would be a simple side quest any other game is almost just as difficult.
The very first time- if anything can even be called a âfirstâ at all when itâs all happening together, at the same time ,and yet completely separate- he decides to lay a claim to Shoichi Irie simply because it feels as though itâs what he should do. Another thing to check off the list. Besides, thereâs a little fondness to it, he supposes. Thatâs not too surprising. Everyone always has that brief bit of fondness to the first character in a RPG that is kind to them, or makes the first move. He can remember playing a game with a female PC, and being charmed despite himself when a male knight almost immediately gave him a gift. Nothing special, nothing exciting or edgy, but amusing enough. Shoichi Irie isnât a knight in any meaning of the word. Byakuranâs impression of him at his young ten-years-younger self is that of a typical awkward nerd, although he has to admit that oneâs first impression probably isnât reliable when it involves time travel panic. Yet that doesnât change the most important part of their meeting, and itâs that he owes everything to that young flustered teenager who had run into him in the street. He hadnât given him a rose or sweet words, but rather something so much more valuable. There are numerous jokes to be made about the tropes and cliches which are so prevalent in otome games, but Byakuran has found they arenât exactly wrong in some cases. The Shoichi Irie he finds in this timeline fits so neatly in so many little boxes when he meets him for a second impression, watching him play at a seedy bar in a grubby dark side of town. Gone is the frantic nervousness, wore down into something much more exhausted that weighs down underneath his eyes and leaves just a little too much room underneath his shirt. Just a passing glance is enough to tell that the bassist is down on his luck, probably not helped by the fact that heâs not really fantastic at his instrument of choice. Judging by the way his bandmates are either in no better position or spit quiet words out at him with narrowed eyes, Byakuran can tell that they no doubt owe a lot of money from having all their nice equipment. For types like that, just like in all of the little romances heâs played through a screen, it doesnât take much but a little bit of attention and kindness to draw Shoichi in. He doesnât even need to do it that often, to his amusement, able to spend plenty of time building up this iteration of the Millefiore while attending to Shoici on the side. Heâs successful with his Millefiore. Of course he is. Having cheatcodes to the universe makes it so very easy. Bit by bit, he lavishes care onto his little side quest, first bringing him in with compliments and indepth conversations even Byakuran is pleasantly surprised to find he enjoys. Then come the casual outtings, treating him to coffee or lunch, the two of them so absorbed that it reminds Byakuran of how fun these minor little things can be as a detour. He makes sure Shoichi never has to pay, the ill-gained money in his pockets always being more than enough. Sometimes itâs a fight to make it happen, of course. Despite his situation, Shoichi always seems to want to be self sufficient, and thereâs a fire in his eyes that tugs at the interest of Byakuranâs heart. So down on his luck, and yet he still tries to struggle like this. How cute. Still, Byakuran manages to convince him one way or the other. Yet the game canât merely stop at pampering a âlove interestââŚÂ He makes the offer at the backstage of one of the many trash bars Shoichi plays at, his back against the wall while his arms have wound lazily about Shoichiâs body. A year of pampering has lead him to looking better than he did before, and a few minutes of Byakuran grinding his thigh inbetween his legs has lead him looking even better. Forget the nervous teenager that awoke him to all of this, forget the dead eyed man heâd seen on stage once. Thereâs that brilliant flickering fire behind Shoichiâs contacts, brow stubbornly crumpled, skin flushed so vividly it looks as though it should hurt, and his lips slick from every heavy breath that rushes out of him as he digs his fingers into Byakuranâs shoulders to weather the ride. Even when his entire body shudders, nails digging in past cotton, he still tries to press a bruising kiss to the side of Byakuranâs neck. Of course he canât let Byakuran control the whole situation that easily. (His first clue, and one he ignores for longer than he would admit.) âYouâre so cute, Sho-chan,â he murmurs into his ear, dragging his fingers down along his spine. Against his leg, he can feel Shoichiâs arousal straining painfully in tight denim and, almost better, the way he shivers when the warmth of his voice rushes through his ear. He can barely speak, so wound up in lust as he is, but Shoichi pushes through. âWhoâs ever heard of a bassist being cute?â he rasps. Thereâs a ragtag sort of afterparty happening in the bar proper, drowning out the sounds of their rutting, so he does his best in keeping quiet. All that does is make his voice low and husky, drawing Byauranâs eyelids halfway down. Thatâs more than good enough, he thinks, and he eases up on the pressure. Shoichi blinks up at him, dazed and aroused, unable to stop Byakuran as he adjusts himself until heâs sliding down the wall and inbetween Shoichiâs legs. Understanding hits him quick enough, and he braces one arm against the wall. It doesnât escape Byakuran how his breathing only gets all the harder. âI want to keep you,â he says, his own voice low, possessive, and he can almost see the way it drops right through Shoichiâs gut. His fingers make quick work of popping open the button to his jeans. âWill you let me, Sho-chan?â Using the very tip of his tongue, he flicks up the zipper and takes it between his teeth, eyes staying locked on his precious interestâs own gaze the whole time as he drags it down slowly. âThatâsâŚâ The words are choked in his throat, and he tosses his head back as Byakuran slides his aroused cock out into the open air. âYouâve given me so much⌠and now youâre asking me that?â âBut I want to hear it, Sho-chan.â Grinning slyly, he drags his tongue up from the very base of Shoichiâs cock and flicks tip against tip. Satisfaction pools in his stomach at how the hips in his hands jerk. âLet me keep you, or else I wonât let you come even a little bit.â He nuzzles his way back down, hot breath ghosting along sensitive skin, until he can wrap his lips around his balls. Itâs harder to watch Shoichi like this now, buried into his hips, but he can still hear the way his hand slaps across his mouth, muffling the harsh gasp he makes. In contrast to the quiet his interest is desperately trying to maintain, Byakuran lives to shatter that. Underneath the yells and laughter and pounding music of the bar, he sloppily licks and sucks along the aching arousal thatâs right at his face, every sound an obscene prayer. He knows it works up Shoichi, too. Itâs hard not to pick up on it, feeling how his legs shake and his hips tremble from the effort of holding back. Thereâs not even any reason to edge him for long. Soon enough, Shoichi is gasping and keening over his head, squirming desperately into Byakuranâs mouth. âDammit- dammit, Byakuran- take me! I want youâŚ. Nn-â He glances up at that, pleased at what he sees: Shoichi looking down at him, teeth digging into a finger from where his hand isnât quite covering his mouth, arousal twisting his expression so desperately. âI want you⌠to take me. Keep me. Please-!" At the end, when Shoichi is slumped against him and drifting down the tides of post-orgasm, Byakuran indulgently curls his fingers into his hair to keep his face pressed into his shoulder. "No takebacks,â he purrs, ignoring the soreness along his back. âIâll keep you forever now, Sho-chan. Even across universes.â Blissfully unaware of threat and lie alike, Shoichi laughs breathlessly against his shirt. âRomantic.â When Byakuran says it, he says it as a lie. But what do you call a lie that becomes a truth when you never meant for it to be? Never one satisfied with leaving a side quest partially forgotten or abandoned the first time through, Byakuran pushes all the way. He helps pay off his debt, convinces him out of a band heâs clearly miserable in. With the money heâs so quickly managed to accumulate, thereâs no question of how easy it is to get Shoichi to live with him. Free of any real obligation, Byakuran watches in faint interest but mostly amusement as his interest begins to relax. Heâs really, truly, unbelievably still nothing impressive with a bass, but at least he seems more content as he fiddles with it and all the other songs he tries to write. Whatâs more relevant to Byakuran is how Shoichi gets back into what he dismissively calls his âold hobbyâ. Byakuran had always wondered how a bassistâs teenage self could end up time traveling⌠and the answer, he realizes with every idle computer program and toy Shoichi makes, is because Shoichi Irie is in fact incredibly intelligent. So intelligent that it seems a waste that he ever became a musician, a fact that he makes sure to pass along to his many other selves. This intelligence comes back to bite him when he returns to his high rise apartment after a nice long trip dealing with a minor emergency. It was nothing serious, just some minor complications one Federico Ferrino left behind in his death. Truly the Vongola had a lot of resources, to be such a bother even in death. Yet he finds them to be less of a bother than the sight that greets him once he steps into his apartment. Shoichi is curled up in an armchair thatâs been forcibly turned so that itâs facing in the direction of the front door, knees digging against his chest. He jolts a little at the sound of the door, eyes going to Byakuran faster than a gunshot. Now now, what could have happened, he wonders? Byakuran rolls the question in his mind even as he carelessly drops his bags to the side, already making his way over to his interest like a good boyfriend would. âStomach again?â he asks, reaching out to sweep his fingers up into Shoichiâs bangs. Itâs been a while since the bassist has had to deal with his infamous stomach aches, brought out whenever heâs too tense, too nervous, too stressed. âSho-chan, I didnât realize you would miss me that much!â His hand is grabbed before he can fully pull it away, musically calloused fingers folded almost delicately around his own. Byakuran blinks, eyebrows raising, before he looks properly into Shoichiâs face. All the expressions which would normally be there- sulking aggravation, taut anxiety, restless worry- are completely absent. Instead, his brow is wound tight together, and thereâs something⌠new to his eyes. Dark green is focused fully on him, steeled in a way he canât quite recall ever viewing before. âByakuran,â he says, desert grave quiet, âwhat do you do for a living?â Everyone makes mistakes on their first blind run, of course. Byakuran has made a couple, despite his various connections that are all to himself, and he generally doesnât worry about it. This particular mistake is that heâs left Shoichi alone, guarded for but not watched, for far too long. With all the things Byakuran is getting up to, well, he doesnât have full and complete of the world yet. News anchors will talk, radio personalities will gossip, and the internet churns so quickly with facts and facts that are twisted and facts which only have the name but not the definition. Shoichi has been busy. Heâs been paying attention. Itâs all heâs been able to do. Lying doesnât really have a point here, not with how much Shoichi has pulled together. Besides, Byakuran has never really lied to him, has he? Shoichi doesnât react well to that statement, but itâs true. Heâs only been vague, never giving the whole story , only bits and pieces. Maybe he could do damage control, if he really tried. Byakuran doesnât. Itâs so much more fascinating to watch his interest yell and demand and accuse, arm sweeping out in scythe sweep of a gesture. Shoichi has never burned so bright, not in this universe, and Byakuran is enraptured by this glitch heâs made happen. They sleep in separate rooms for a while after that- Byakuran taking the lavish and comfortable master bedroom, Shoichi self-exiling himself to a sterile guest room thatâs never once been touched. It only takes a couple of days before he breaks the barrier heâs erected, settling himself gingerly onto the couch besides Byakuran one evening. None of the lights are on yet, with only the setting sun illuminating Shoichiâs back from where he sits, eyes on him. âIâm sorry,â he tells him. âIt was a lot to take in,â he says. âCan you just promise me that youâll be honest with me from now on?â âOf course, Sho-chan,â Byakuran tells him, while promising no such thing. This, too, is a lie. Shoichi must know it as well. He promises nothing either, and he writes Iâm sorry once again on a letter he leaves on the counter in their darkened home when Byakuran returns again one day. A surprising amount of his things are left behind, with only the most sensible of clothing thatâs been taken, along with all the basic necessities of a healthy human such as toiletries. When Byakuran checks one of his bank accounts, heâs not surprised to find a lot of money withdrawn. While he could pursue his interest, he doesnât. Instead, he carries out the end of this particular life, his particular run, all the while quite aware of how the patches of rebel forces which never cease to defy him are granted a sudden boost in knowledge. It doesnât really matter, in the end. This reality is a bust, and he toys with the different ways to end it. Somewhere, out in the rebel hideouts that he systematically quashes, heâs certain Shoichi Irie dies⌠but he dies far away from Byakuran, out of his sight. Itâs a âBad Endâ if your love interest betrays you and dies. Byakuran passes along the message to Byakuran of everything heâs gone through. It would be embarrassing if this was the side quest that he missed, after all. Probably the problem Byakuran ran into, Byakuran muses to himself as he thinks over this particular set of alternate memories, is that Shoichi was a civilian kept in the dark for so long. Sure, he had been running around in all sorts of seedy bars in that universe, but being in the same vicinity as some two-bit thugs isnât anything like dating a powerful mafia don who had blood soaked up to his knees. If he intervenes a little earlier⌠That sounds right. A slightly earlier intervention, nudging those morals a little further in the right direction, and Byakuran thinks that might finally help complete this little sub-plot. He just needs to get a little creative in when they meet. How they meet. When he meets Shoichi Irie, heâs not the flustered teenager that gave him this opportunity and heâs not yet the boneworn bassist who played in side alley bars. Instead, heâs seventeen and clearly frustrated with the world, or perhaps merely his place in it. Byakuran only needs a day to see how people take advantage of him. It's nothing so crass as outright bullying, not most of the time. Instead, they merely pile on expectations and requests onto him, disregarding his interests, disregarding anything else he might have on his plate. In a different way to that time in the bar, itâs easier than anything to slide his way into a friendship with him. Nudging him along towards what Byakuran wants for him⌠Itâs a little more difficult to get the subtleties of that exactly right, and he spends a couple of lives dealing with that. Itâs not a complete waste; heâll need such skills for other people who arenât Shoichi. The best way, he finds, is simply phrasing things as harmless pranks in high school, things to tease those who frustrate him so much, things he can build upon so steadily. Shoplifting is a little harder, not something that his Sho-chan really has the hand dexterity for, but itâs easier when he can frame their targets as absolute bastards who deserve it⌠or detach them so neatly from his life that they donât really matter. What his real interest is, however, would be what he told himself from dating that tired and beaming bassist. Itâs a waste to keep him as a petty thief, even if there is a kind of casual amusement in throwing stolen candy into Shoichiâs hair while he does his best to scowl instead of laugh. The good news is that he has dozens, hundreds, thousands of other selves knowledge at hand. Itâs child play to talk tech with Shoichi, to convince him to stretch his intelligence right past the digital defenses of so many organizations and countries. From high school, to college, to them with degrees spilling out the secrets of the richest and most influential or sometimes holding it over their heads. It hardly takes anything at all to convince Shoichi to join his Gesso, this slowly budding and blossoming Millefiore. This should be it, he thinks. It took a try or four, but heâs finally got this route down. He thinks that all the way to the day he triumphantly comes back from his meeting with that little Giglio Nero heiress, satisfied from the box he has in his hands. âTa daaaaa!â he sings as he enters the office where Shoichi is waiting. His interest looks pretty good in mafia black, he has to say, even when heâs clearly fiddled his tie right out of place and jumps what seems like a solid foot into the air. âThe meeting went great, Sho-chan.â âI feel like youâd say that no matter what actually happenedâŚâ Still, he moves out of the way, letting Byakuran flop loosely into his chair. Shoichi slides his hands into his pockets, trying to seem calm, before he moves them out again to rub his palms against his legs. âWere you able to resolve things mostly peacefully?â Gammaâs fingers broke, one by one, feeling surprisingly like nothing for how long theyâd clutched to his pool stick. Genkishi had to be skewered to the wall, bloody dripping from his mouth, simply to keep him out of the way. When Aria had finally conceded, sheâd closed her eyes for a brief moment with a box keeping their hands joined together, and a smile had crept onto her face. âOh, the things that will happen,â sheâd said, eyes too blue, too strange. For a second, sheâd almost looked human. âMhm,â Byakuran says, because thatâs the easy answer, and they have the Giglio Nero- what remains- on close watch. He wonât make a rookie mistake again, making it easy for Shoichi to stumble onto such a dark little thing. Setting the box down onto his desk, he flicks open the latch. The second Shoichi turns his back, Byakuran plans on getting nothing less than the absolute best replicas that he possibly can for the Mare Rings⌠but for now, thereâs no harm in keeping them right in front of him. He has no idea when these were last touched, even by their mistresses, but the Mare Ring have a crystal clear shine to them thatâs so smooth that not even water would stick. Heâd slipped the Sky Ring back into its place after reveling in its quickly comfortable warmth, and it almost seems to glow again at his presence. In fact, it even seems to glow all the brighter than before. His eyelids dip just a little lower. âAmazing, rightâŚ?â He can feel Shoichiâs arm brush against his chair, nudging it a little bit. âAll that worry, for some ringsâŚâ His voice isnât into the disregarding tone it tries for, however. Itâs even⌠dazed. Byakuranâs first thought is that heâs coming down from his anxiety high. That impression lasts for all of a single second before Shoichiâs hand reaches over from the side, drawn to the box, and Byakuran realizes that the Mare Sky Ring wasnât glowing any brighter than it did when he first saw it. Yellow blends into orange so well. Shoichi burns bright yet again. The knowledge hits him like a bullet train, a feeling that he passes along the second he has the time to spare for it, and he almost doesnât care that, in this world too, Shoichi once again slowly turns again, once again pokes his nose into something he shouldnât have. Itâs fine to lose that particular sidequest this time around, because heâs gotten a key bit of information that can potentially help in all the others. At the same time, it only makes what was once a silly little romance route gain so much more prominence to the main story that Byakuran canât help but marvel as the flow of it. The Mare Rings canât speak, canât communicate, and yet Byakuran canât help but feel as though theyâre the most people-like things heâs dealt with ever since Before. Their preferences in wielders tend to be specific, although they can be flexible if no better choice presents itself. The Rain Ring tends to lean towards bright and malicious, people who can demonstrate a sense of mocking humor before they clean away the filth of the battlefield. In contrast, those with any sort of commendable patience draw in the Cloud Ring, and the Storm favors anyone with a shimmering energy beneath an otherwise⌠passive facade. The Sky Ring is his forever, in every single iteration of the universe that can possibly exist. The Sun longs for Shoichi. Every time. Without fail. Byakuran can understand why. Anyone would understand, heâs fairly sure, if theyâd ever seen the way his eyes steel in resolution or the energy that burns from his body or the sheer brilliant gold of his flame. In worlds where he forgets, or where he slips up, or where thereâs merely a spot of bad luck, the Arcobaleno Curse seeks out Shoichi for the intensity of his Flame. That happens rarely. Byakuran laid claim upon him first, after all. In one life, Byakuran decides to go for a change of pace. Not every romance route can be won through simple kindness. Sometimes, you have to get a little bit creative, or you have to push for a certain event to go off. Sometimes, a Good End is reprehensible in the cruelty it takes to get there. At least, for normal people. He draws the Gesso up as soon as heâs able, throws all of himself into making them a strong Family as quick as possible. Quick enough to have someone watching over Shoichi, make sure that he doesnât drift too far from where Byakuran can see him. He goes through a fairly standard dull life, the few times Byakuran takes the time to check in on him- a brief flirt with paying a bass, graduating top of his class. Nothing to pay attention to. Itâs after Shoichiâs first year of college that he instructs some of his people to kidnap him one night, when heâs on his way home from a concert of a band he likes and not expecting for a car to stop right besides him. Itâs quick, silent, and completely professional. More than a few of his own must be wondering what Byakuran is doing⌠but thatâs the case in every life he lives. All they have to do is listen to him as he plays a game so long and expansive that they canât even begin to imagine it. Thereâs no reason to go straight into the harshest form of cruelty, not right away, not in this life. There are a lot of ways to twist a will, to shatter it and pull it together in some other shape entirely. Byakuran starts off with the kind of lodgings that would be perfect, if one were merely willing to ignore all the ways in which itâs a cage: sinfully soft furniture, nice lighting that can go from comfortably dim to softly warm, a bathroom large enough to be another bedroom, no windows, one entrance and exit, hidden cameras in more places than the obvious. Byakuran follows the advice of another life, and makes sure that there isnât a kitchen or access to the outside world via electronics. Shoichi Irie, in every bit of his incarnations that Byakuran can remember, is always devilishly clever, after all. Even when he had been a bassist whoâd skipped college, trapped in a cycle of debt and unfulfilling gigs. Heâs also incredibly attractive, even now, disheveled in last nightâs clothes, hair falling in a mess around his face, glasses askew on his face. One hand is curled against his stomach, a warning of the stomach aches that are to come, and his expression is twisted in such alarm that it stirs a heat inside of Byakuranâs chest. This isnât one heâs indulged in yet. Not for the first time, he appreciates the ability to play with such a purposefully destructive game. âWhat do you want with me!?â Shoichi asks, sharp, panicked, and yet going right to the point. He doesnât ask who Byakuran is, which is almost a shame. There are some amusing answers he could give there. And yet, he supposes this question is more important. At least, for someone in Shoichiâs position. âNow now!â He laughs, draping himself in one of the armchairs that are around. He practically sinks into it. Really, he hopes Shoichi comes to appreciate that much in the time that he keeps him here. âIâm not going to torture you or anything, if thatâs what youâre thinking.â Not in this timeline, at any rate. âLet me introduce myself. Iâm Byakuran Gesso, and itâs nice to meet you properly here. Iâd like you to work for me.â Shoichi draws one leg up cautiously, foot digging into the mattress. What heâs prepared to do is anyoneâs guess, only that he feels the need to be a little⌠steadier, perhaps, in case he needs to do something. The hand not clutching his stomach does similar. âThis isnât⌠exactly the normal way to get someone to work for you,â he says stiffly, and Byakuranâs heart flutters. Thereâs that Sun brilliance, hardening his eyes and burning him up from the inside out. He hardly had to push at all for it to appear, even in a situation like this. âWhat do you want me to work on, exactly?â âOh, nothing that you arenât already going to college for, Sho-chan.â The nickname makes him twitch a little bit, unaware as he is of how intimate they are long before he was born and long after he dies and even here in the present. Theyâre completely and utterly bound. He simply doesnât know it. He will probably never know it, at least in most lives. âIâd like to pick your mind for the treasure trove of ideas Iâm sure you have in there when it comes to technology. If you simply go along with it, youâll find your time here to be quite nice!â Byakuran tilts his head to the side. âAnd if you cooperate, Sho-chan, then youâll be out of here in no time at all. Iâm positive we can work something out, donât you agree?â The wary pull of his eyebrows downwards says Shoichi doesnât believe him, which he shouldnât. âIâm getting the impression that I donât have a particular choice,â he says, still not easing up even the slightest. âDo I at least get the dignity of asking some questionsâŚ?â Byakuran crosses his legs and let his hands flow to the side in gesture. âAll you like, Sho-chan!â He doesnât promise heâll tell the truth. âThen⌠Why me? I havenât even- I donât have a degree of any sort. Iâm not even close to graduating.â The hand at his stomach moves upwards, digging into his chest. âWhy kidnap a college student whoâs probably not even knowledgeable enough for the kinds of things you might ask for? Arenât there smarter technicians and engineers who could do what you want?â There arenât. Byakuran knows this for a fact, knows that he would have stumbled upon them a long time ago if anyone had that ability. Yet no one had done what Shoichi had. No one had gone through time, no one had broken it so thoroughly as he had. Byakuran canât even claim that honor yet, as much as it would amuse him to. No, he merely flows across the many timelines, the many universes where he exists. Shoichi is the one who reached out where he shouldnât have, and Byakuran knows for a fact, after listening to him speak in the kinder timelines, that he can break even more if he really tries. The trick is to get him to really try. âI have utter faith in your potential,â is the answer Byakuran gives, grinning and flashing a wink to Shoichi. âBut you donât have to worry. Ask for anything, and Iâll make sure to provide it for you. Just knock, okay, Sho-chan?â Heâs kept for a while longer, listening to question after question that Shoichi fumbles to pull out from his mind, and heâs not surprised when he almost immediately calls through on that 'knockingâ thing to start pulling in book after book to his room. Despite it being a simple non-answer, the line about 'potentialâ is also fairly true. Byakuran passes along all sorts of little tasks for Shoichi to do, starting subtle at first with computer programs on an isolated channel that Shoichi never gets to keep. Then, various little quizzes, seeing if he can outdo what they already are using in the Gesso and Millefiore. Byakuran rarely delivers them himself. Why would he? Thatâs something for those far lower on the ladder who have nothing better to do, or at least nothing more important than Byakuranâs pursuit of this sidequest. Instead, Byakuran likes to visit Shoichi in the middle of his time. Sometimes itâs while heâs working through the latest task heâs been given, papers sprawled out all over the floor and a pile working up on the desk Shoichi does his best to remember to use. Itâs a nice change of pace from the repetitive motions of running a mafia empire. Shoichi doesnât take to it well at first. âOf- what? Of course Iâm not,â Shoichi says, honesty stuttering out before he can stop himself the first time Byakuran outright asks. âI know your name and literally nothing else, and youâre just- is this a test?â His mouth screws up, eyes narrowed over them. âTo check if Iâm⌠I donât know, cheating or something as I work on this?â When Byakuran bursts out laughing at him, a lobster of a blush spreads over his face in a heartbeat. âI told you before, didnât I?â Byakuran says when heâs calmed down, sprawled out in an armchair. His head lolls to the side, lazy smile still in place. âI have full confidence in your abilities and potential, Sho-chan.â âShoichi,â he mutters quietly, not really stopping the nickname. âThe only reason Iâm here is because Iâm bored. Besides, you havenât asked for a rubber duck yet. I thought it might help to bounce your stress off something~.â âRubber ducks should be a little cuter,â Shoichi mumbles into his shirt, already ducking back down into his work while still a little bit red. It takes a little while for him to eventually start reciprocating Byakuranâs attempts at conversation, but what are a few visits in comparison to the eternity that Byakuran has? The multiple visions of eternity, in fact. So it doesnât feel long at all before Shoichi begins to speak back to him, gesturing to a paper here and there as he spills out his train of thought or his frustrations on a certain aspect of his latest project. When he finally does that, the other visits Byakuran takes begin to go a little more smoothly as well instead of Shoichi sitting awkwardly in a chair as far away from Byakuran as possible while Byakuran does all the talking. He knows itâs not only his imagination when Shoichi begins to show a little more warmth in response to his visits. There arenât many other options for him down in this windowless room, where time doesnât feel real, where he canât even sense time, and Byakuran is his only constant person. Thereâs a certain thrill in indulging in such a thing, at least for this life. One day, Shoichi doesnât fight against the way Byakuran presses up behind him while heâs reading, white-clad arms lazily winding around him. He only glances up at him from the corner of his eyes, thumb worrying at the page in the book heâs been working through. âI donât exactly have to point my room is bugged, right?â he says stiffly, a little bit of red burning at his ears. âIs there any shame at all that your- everything is being recorded while youâre doing this?â âWhen youâre the kind of person I am, you end up being watched all the time anyway, Sho-chan,â he laughs, directly into Shoichiâs ear as to watch him shudder. Heâs not the only person in the world who has such a reaction, and yet Byakuran canât help feeling more satisfied when Shoichi does it. Thatâs the thrill of having a favorite character, he supposes. Everything he does, Byakuran canât help but hyperfocus on. âNow, what kind of things are you thinking of that would get you so worked up about being watched? And in relation to me as well?â The tone of his voice says everything that doesnât get a word ascribed to it. The blush spreads from his ears to the rest of his face quicker than the heartbeat it takes to provide that much blood. Byakuran never stops the cameras from recording⌠He only goes back once heâs done indulging in Shoichiâs body to cut those particular parts out and save them for his own records. More interested in this indulgence than the rest of the videos, and relaxed in what has to be his victory this time, Byakuran misses the little things that will give Shoichi away in other universes. The way he begins to sleep more reliably in his bed instead of falling asleep by accident anywhere else. How his hands duck underneath his pillows, still so âabsentmindedâ as to be holding his glasses inbetween his fingers. Byakuran learns later how the sound of his apparent snoring hid the sharpening of his glasses frames against metal frames. Byakuran had made sure they were metal, so that Shoichi couldnât use the wood chips of such a frame for whatever his brilliant mind could come up with. A pity that ingenuity works with everything at its disposal no matter the material. In one universe, he punctures his own throat, slides the needle inbetween the rows of his own lungs, and chokes on his blood before medical services can pull him back from the brink. In one universe, he breaks through the system keeping the door shut and makes a break for it. He succeeds, or he fails, or he does both in the end, but itâs a loss on Byakuran either way. âAll you have to do is give yourself to me,â he says one day, one universe, popping open a bag of gummy bears. It wasnât his first choice, but the little gas station heâd stopped at before getting here hadnât had any marshmallow treats, and, well, as long as itâs sweet, maybe he doesnât care as much as some might think. The same could be said for how Shoichi has been forcefully tied to a plain metal chair, handcuffs biting into his wrists and rope binding his legs. To keep him from doing anything reckless, a gag keeps his mouth pried open. Tears and spit alike drip down his face, splatter against his pantsâŚÂ His eyes are still so very stubbornly burning. A sort of fondness warms his veins, and Byakuran pops one gummy bear into his mouth before he reaches downwards. Fingernails catch along knots in Shoichiâs hair, curls always so thick when heâs first woken up in the morning and hasnât had a chance to compose himself yet. Byakuran is intimately familiar with all the little quirks like that which make up Shoichi Irie. Itâs a consequence of playing the same route, over and over and over again. For all the bad ends heâs steadily accumulating, Byakuran doesnât regret it. âAlthough I am curious,â he continues, drifting his hand downwards until he can curl his fingers around the back of Shoichiâs head and guide his gaze up to him. âWhat made you change your mind like this, Sho-chan? What made you so desperate that youâd want to risk killing yourself, or run away from here? I like to think Iâve been taking care of you so well that there canât possibly be a problem. You can have just about everything youâd ever ask for.â Itâs only the two of them in the room, all guards dismissed without a second thought. Theyâd only protest if they saw Byakuran reach down and undo the gag keeping Shoichi so quiet. Free of the obstruction, Shoichi takes a quick second to cough and catch his breath. Trapped in this place, at the end of the rope, heâs clearly lost some of that quaint politeness which heâd grown up with, because he turns his head slightly to the side and spits to clear his mouth. Byakuran supposes he should marvel that it wasnât directed right at him. âIsnât it obvious?â he says, voice a little raspy, unused. âYou brought me here in the first place because⌠Iâm so smart, right? Thatâs what you told me. And⌠did you think I wouldnât put everything together? Realize what all my work was adding up to, even if you never showed me the final product, or the result?â He gives a hard swallow, head bumping against Byakuranâs palm once again. âItâs not like I want to believe itâŚ. but what else am I supposed to think, when you keep me trapped in here?â Teeth grinding against each other, he grits out, âI donât even know if my own family is alive!â They arenât. That thought idly occurs to Byakuran right as Shoichi says it, because he vaguely remembers glancing at a report heâd gotten of a little bit of a scuffle against Hibari-Kai over in Japan which had taken out a good dozen of lives or more, and heâd seen the Irie family listed among the deceased. It hadnât occurred to him that it was anything important. It still isnât, he supposes. Whatâs the point of saying it here and now? Idly, he scrapes his nails along the back of Shoichiâs scalp and watches him go utterly still. âAnd would you return if you got a brief chance outside, Sho-chan?â he asks, amused. Shoichiâs silence is an answer all its own, and Byakuran moves on without really giving him a moment to spare for a potential lie. âYou really need to go with the flow, ha. I think youâd find you would have a much easier time of things if you did." Shoichi swallows again, throat bobbing. His stare doesnât waver. "Your flow." Byakuran tilts his head to the side and smiles. "Itâs the same thing in the end.â âIf I refuse?â âThen Iâll just have to persuade you otherwise.â Persuasion, in this instance and a few others, meaning that he spends some of his time breaking Shoichi where he can. Sometimes physical. Sometimes mental. He already has a good deal of factors on his side for it all, really, from the oppressive atmosphere of never even knowing what time it is and having not known for a great deal of time, to the nice little case of Stockholm Syndrome heâs nestled right into Shoichiâs chest. That latter part he makes sure to especially cultivate. Every broken limb, he helps nurture back to full and proper health again. Every sickness Shoichi catches, whether purposefully encouraged or which comes along as a side effect of all the stress, he takes care of. Even when he threatens to drown Shoichi, serene moments where he holds him down by the throat and watches his mouth work helplessly with every bubble of hair that works upwards, heâs the same person who tends to him in the aftermath. He dries him off, checks that his lungs are still working right, work that a medical professional could be proud of. Pain and pleasure are two things that are so closely related. Fear and hatred and love and obsession, Byakuran thinks, are probably very much the same. If they are, then maybe heâll be able to make this work as heâs been trying to across multiple lives. It takes him around a year to look down into Shoichiâs dull eyes and realize that heâs broken him and, unlike so many other things in the world, thereâs no possibility of pulling this back together into something whole again. The Mare Sun Ring longs to be on Shoichiâs fingers. Byakuran thinks he can relate, wanting a thing that continues to not want you back. Spoiled kindness isnât working, and neither does abject cruelty. If thatâs how it is, than Byakuran canât possibly imagine what heâs doing wrong in this area. Still, in the end, itâs only a sidequest. A very important sidequest, but not a necessary one. The Mare Sun Ring might want Shoichi Irie out of every other pawn in the current world it exists in, but it knows how to settle for things, too. Shoichi might be its type, might have the most brilliantly burning Sun Flame anyone could imagine, but there are others who, while not the ideal personality, have a Flame that can satisfy the conditions of a Mare Ring. Heâs not giving up or anything. That would be embarrassing for someone whoâs playing the game so determinedly like he is. Rather, heâs⌠merely taking a break. Of course, it seems like even when heâs taking a break to focus on other aspects of the game, he still ends up paying attention to Shoichi whenever he ends up crossing his path. Even if the route is harder than expected, Byakuran can still enjoy some aspects of it, especially when itâs not so pressing on his overall run. Shoichi is still surprisingly pleasant to indulge, especially when heâs so early on in the stage of things that the criminal aspect of everything arenât so obvious. Itâs easiest to enjoy Shoichi then, trading food and sharing earbuds to the same music and talking about how fragile and sturdy the world is in equal measure. When itâs only theories, itâs easier to get Shoichi to play along with it. In a way that Byakuran is slowly starting to get used to across his many lives, he inevitably turns on him sooner or later. Sometimes a countryâs government- usually Japan, occasionally Italy, America when itâs not a trashfire- will rope him in as an agent to keep track of him. Byakuran has to admit those lives are a little bit amusing, and he can never help playing up the cliche of it all when he can. The powerful mafia boss playing cat and mouse games with the determined cop, or secret agent, or general law enforcement⌠While he takes some time to relax in how heâll next properly approach the Shoichi situation, he doesnât worry about the end result, and merely enjoys the journey. Thereâs something to be said for an approach like that, especially when Byakuran uses Shoichiâs own handcuffs against him to pin him against the wall, teasing him about the lengths theyâve gone through with each other, and the sexual tension is thick enough for a chainsaw. Other mafia Families clue in to the sheer skill that Shoichi Irie actually possesses, once every few lives, especially when the world begins to advance technologically so quickly that they have to start paying attention to engineers and those who are up and coming. Those realities are sometimes a little bit disappointing, because the destruction of the rest of the Families, especially those who have connections to the Vongola, are always the first ones he crushes underneath his heel. Itâs a pity that he doesnât get more of a chance to to with Shoichi in those lives. Oh well. Heâll always have other rounds, other lives, other realities. In the grand scheme of things, it doesnât really matter. Then there are the timelines where Shoichi takes things into his own hands. This world has already been broken, shattered, vast expanses of ruined cities beyond the walls of his little fortresses where he experiments with his little civilization games. Here, people either submit, or they risk the destruction beyond that doesnât deal kindly to those trying to carve out a life there. So with that said, he really has to marvel at the underground labs which Shoichi has created for himself. In the places where his people havenât stormed through, covering the floor in dirt and dust of debris coating the walls, itâs impeccably clean. One of the few, perhaps the only, places where the grimy destruction of the world hasnât seeped in. Befitting of such a brilliant engineer and technician, a defiled treasure trove of equipment fills the sparse amount of rooms that make up the shelter, and one has already completely self destructed with its remains utterly destroyed beneath the rubble. If they can recover enough, Byakuran has no doubt that the impact on numerous worlds would be immense. âIfâ⌠being the key word in that sentence. Shoichi is a genius in any of the worlds that bear his beautiful existence. For all that he can create, he knows exactly how to destroy it again. Almost more than Byakuran, Shoichi Irie has the perfect ability to completely destroy things, and yet he so rarely does it, save in moments like these where itâs to deny him everything he possibly can. His men corner Shoichi in a room that could, in some cases, be arguably titled as a bedroom. Byakuran has a closet thatâs bigger. The mattress on the floor barely offers any substantial protection between the body on top of it and the hard ground beneath. The body on top of it has pressed himself back up against the wall with guns pointed at his face giving him no real option, and his hands are held up with the knuckles bumping into plaster. This one looks a real mess, Byakuran marvels, and he takes his time slowly looking over the engineer whoâs been tirelessly and fruitlessly attempting to undermine him from beneath his very nose. A life of living outside of civilization has clearly taken its toll on Shoichi. What clothes are out here are basically as good as trash, and that includes the denim jacket on him thatâs at least two times too big with more holes in it than Shoichiâs hopes must have by now, and the loose black tank top beneath it is hardly any better. That his actual pants and boots manage to fit, for all their worn nature, is quite impressive. Figuring out glasses in the wastelands has apparently not been a priority for Shoichi, because heâs squinting hard towards the armed men who can very easily take his life. Itâs an action that almost makes him look more defiant than tired, than worn down to the very bone. Heâs even disregarded scissors, possibly the most hilarious thing, because a good portion of his hair (definitely not all of it) has been pulled into a very lopsided ponytail near the right side of his head. Lazily, Byakuran raises up a hand to dismiss his men. âGo look over the technology here,â he orders them, voice deceptively airy. Maybe itâs because of that which has them hesitate. Byakuran doesnât, not when he levels them with a cold gaze full of threat, and that gets them moving again a hurry. He waits patiently for the sound of heavy bootsteps to be as much in the distance as they can get before he steps forward to take up the whole doorway. âHey there, Sho-chan. Itâs been a while, hasnât it?â With the absence of armed guards, Shoichi collapses back a little bit, although his hands stay right where they are. It would be a gesture of anyone else in the same situation. âYeah,â he says, voice following the same slump of his spine. âYeah, it has. Years.â It didnât take much for this particular world to crumble apart, after all. And yet, still he struggles to preserve it. The defiance is in more than the glare, now, and Byakuran marvels at it. Hands in his pockets, Byakuran inclines his head to his old friend. âThe offer is still on the table,â he reminds him. âDonât you think that would be so much more appealing, Sho-chan?â He even laughs a little bit. âYouâd be able to have a shower and everything! Maybe see things more clearly, hm?â Shoichi is filthy, thinner than in most timelines, and clearly has worked so hard that heâs not had the chance to sleep often. Even with every bit of that weighing down on him, he still slumps his shoulders with an annoyed huff. âWas that⌠an actual joke about my eyeglasses? At a time like thisâŚâ Even when everything is going at itâs absolute worst, he can still get that kind of reaction out of him. Byakuran laughs once more. âWell, itâs the truth, too!â Tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, Byakuran puts about the same amount of effort into the way his eyelids dip. âItâs all the truth,â he says, which is a lie. âThe Sun Ring would be perfect on your finger,â he says, which is the truth. Heâd left it back in the hands of the Sun Guardian heâd chosen for this world, once it had become clear that he would not accomplish his goal in this reality either. That meant, technically, there was no reason to make a claim on Shoichi in this world either. What purpose could he serve, besides potentially passing along more information to Byakuran in another world? And yet still he wants it. Wants Shoichi. Again and again, heâs courted and broken and threatened countless Shoichis, all for naught. Even if this world is uselessâŚ. He can only imagine the rush of satisfaction that would drown him if he managed to successfully capture one of the few individuals in all of his many existences who fascinates him so. Sometimes, in some places, he even almost ponders if Shoichi Irie is more his Player 2 than a love interest whose Good End heâs tirelessly chasing across numerous different realities. Only a thought experiment in the end, that sort of thing. Thereâs a reason he ponders it more in the late night while some version of him drifts off to sleep, or turns over the idea while his body runs through the motions of a shower. If there is actually a Player 2 against his campaign in one of the many worlds, heâs yet to meet them, for one thing, and heâs fairly certain that there would be more of a fight than all of Shoichiâs desperate struggles. Surely he must know it too, but all Shoichi does is let out a slow exhaled that scrapes up against lung and throat alike. Typical for someone who has dared to live out here in desolated wastelands. âI bet it would,â he says, a cough forcing a pause into existence. Itâs too much for a body thatâs become so thin and weak. âBut my answer hasnât changed, you know.â âSo stubborn, Sho-chan.â It hardly takes a step before heâs within the room, and filling up a good portion of the space. A mattress can barely fit in here, so even with so little movement heâs already right between Shoichiâs legs. âIt might be better for you over all if you just went along with it.â Smiling, he tilts his head to the side. He has no doubt that itâs as empty as he feels. âEveryone has a lot of questions for you back at my base that theyâll get out of you one way or another.â âDo threats actually ever help to convince anyone to do anything?â They donât, and they never would with Shoichi. His lives have connected well enough that he is well aware of how Shoichi will stay true, even when heâs bleeding out, slow, alone. Thereâs always something beautiful about the way that fire burns right to the final ember of his existence. Byakuran thinks he could watch it for an eternity, if only he didnât have the main story to get through first. Regardless, he leans down and forwards until he can pull Shoichi up effortlessly to his feet. Even with his clothing, he hardly weighs a thing, especially in comparison to Byakuran with immeasurable power behind him that could still grow so much bigger. âI thought you should at least know when youâre making a mistake,â he says, watching as Shoichiâs hands finally swing downwards. His fingers shake, quietly but violently. More from anxiety than ever any fear, Byakuran suspects, and always more exhaustion than anxiety. âWeâre friends, Sho-chan, so, really, this is the least I could do!â This close, and Shoichi doesnât really need to squint anymore to see Byakuran clearly. Weariness draws them a little further open, yet his gaze doesnât shy away from Byakuranâs. In the world above them, in the world at large, so much has been dragged into ash and filth until brown and gray cover it as thick as any blanket. Even in places far away from civilization, the color seems to stick thicker than smog. Here, Shoichiâs eyes are still a deep green, so deep as to be untarnished jade, an oasis refusing impossible odds, poison that has burrowed past skin and flesh and blood and into Byakuranâs bones. âFriends, huh,â he says, voice a breath, an invitation. âAt the very least,â Byakuran murmurs before he accepts it, before he leans in and sweeps up those lips in a long slow kiss. Shoichi doesnât push him away or, considering the atrophy of his body, make so much as an attempt. No struggle, no kick, no protest, not even so much as a bite. If anything, he actually leans in, palms pressing against the wall as if heâs chasing something, too. Only a centimeter keeps them separated when their lips finally part. Against all odds, the fire in Shoichiâs eyes seems to burn all the harder. Byakuran know the answer even before he wastes any breath on its opposite. âItâs still waiting for you." Heâs still waiting for him. A kiss has hardly done anything for Shoichiâs chapped lips, the breath which rustles out from between them drying that brief wet respite. Itâs hardly done anything for that look in his eyes, either. "Well, itâll probably have to keep waiting.â Byakuran watches the muscles in his throat stick and bob, struggling for even a simple swallow. âThereâs nothing else for me to do in this world. Thereâs no point.â On the technical aspect, heâs right, of course. The Tri-ni-sette cannot be completed in this world, even if he were to include Shoichiâs perfect brilliant flame to the Mare set. Everything Byakuran does in this particular world is only for his own amusement right now, even if that means dismantling society chunk by chunk, or seeing how far a group of people can be pushed before they shatter into pieces. Even Shoichi isnât different from this. If he were to finally complete his route in this world, of all worlds, what would he do then? If this was Shoichi the bassist, he could have kept him sweet and separate from the dirty business of a world collapsing in on itself with his goading, could have ducked into their not-so-little apartment and played a more domestic game. If this was Shoichi the student, he could fill his spare time molding him into something else, treat him customizable, put together all the pieces of a broken man until he wasnât quite whole but certainly together. If this was Shoichi the criminal⌠If he had stayedâŚÂ Well. Thereâs no world where Shoichi has ever stayed by Byakuranâs side as heâs reworked the world into something entirely different. Itâs simply not a part of the route. Byakuran accepts this easily, because heâs had to dozens of times before, in dozens of other incarnations. All he does is chuckle a little bit. âSo pessimistic, Sho-chan!â âOptimistic, actually.â Thatâs certainly a surprise, and Byakuran has to pause, still smiling but with his eyebrows raised a little bit now. Shoichi grins at him, with just enough teeth to be a threat. Heâs never felt threatened in all of his lives now, not since he was a kid in some life forgotten a long time ago, and yet that doesnât take away the intent. âHow long do you think you can keep this going, Byakuran-san? How many worlds do you think you can completely dominate?â âHa. Well, Sho-chan, I think the answer should be fairly obvious, shouldnât it?â He inclines his head back towards the door, hands preoccupied with Shoichiâs weight. âIf I can do this much to this kind of world, then I doubt there are many others that will be as much of a challenge.â The real challenge is in completing everything, in putting together the exact right variables that will give him all of the Tri-Ni-Sette. The real challenge is in completing everything, including finally keeping Shoichi Irie at his side. Despite this fact, Shoichi doesnât stop grinning, although some strength has drained from it. All his fire canât give him the energy that his physical body lacks from little sleep and about as much food. âWell,â he says, âweâll see about that. But nothing lasts forever, Byakuran-san. No one does.â And he grits his teeth together⌠and something cracks. Later on, his doctors and researchers will marvel at the fake tooth layered over one of his real ones that had laid within Shoichiâs mouth. Such a thing would be delicate and tricky work even as a mere piece of art, yet Shoich had gone somewhere a little deeper. Literally, heâd gone deeper, apparently digging into old forgotten Estraneo strongholds and the secrets that had been abandoned a long time ago. An interesting invention- one of many, across many worlds, many mistakes- had been research into warping the body with the use of Sun flames via a set of specialized modified fangs. Creating a whole new jaw would have been impossible for even Shoichâs genius, at least with everything else heâd stacked up on top of his plate, and, considering the layout of the world, heâd probably never be able to get the necessary requirements for giving his body such base animalistic characteristics⌠But he didnât need to. All Shoichi Irie had needed was the base concept, the base technical aspects that could help active a Sun Flame within his body without the use of a Ring and change some internal trigger. Sun Flames are activation. The Sun is energy. Too much energy, heart beating so fast as to burst, lungs quicker than the air they can absorb, mind falling apart from energy and crashing in on itselfâŚÂ Theyâll marvel at it all, the people he sends to investigate this, and a few will ponder if they can use this sort of technology to keep a tight rein on anyone beneath them, even if there will have to be obvious changes depending on the kind of Flame that one primarily has. Byakuran will let them ponder and experiment, because of course he will. In a world without any real goal, any real meaning to continue this particular save, he might as well, right? Yet heâll never go on to use their findings, not in the way they intend, not even in other worlds. In the moment, in that underground bunker where Shoichi Irie lived out his last days frantically working on something that could never possibly have any meaning, Byakuran can only watch the way he jolts suddenly with an exhale so sharp that he breathes out blood⌠and then he goes limp. Byakuran doesnât smile. He canât even act surprised. All he can really do, after a quiet moment of staring at a corpse, is lower it slowly back down onto the mattress heâs slept on for who knows how long. Next time, then. If nothing else, heâll always have next time. âByakuran-san, please, pay attention, I need you to have full understanding of the Merone Base, okay?â âI am paying attention,â he says, lips lilting up in a smile. Itâs not wholly a lie. Heâs always listened to Shoichi in multiple realities, even if he hasnât listened to him on some occasions. So heâs intimately familiar with many ideas that Shoichi has brought up, some of them more solid in most realities than others. The best realities for this sort of thing are the handful where Shoichiâs life has him meet someone born on an entirely different little island, separated from Japan by an entire continent. Byakuran doesnât really mess with the workers on the lower end of things, which Spanner definitely qualifies as despite his own mechanical genius, but he keeps an eye on anything that is prone to influence Shoichi. In the universes where Shoichi Irie and the aptly dubbed âSpannerâ meet, Shoichi almost always comet collides into his talent with technology. Whether those are universes where Shoichi temporarily joins him⌠Thatâs a little more in the air. A coin flip, honestly, one of those things that is practically prayed to like the RNG in a gacha phone game. That such existences are also the ones where Shoichi falls in love with another, where he burns so bright in a different direction, is something Byakuran is pretty sure heâs not jealous about. Why would he be? That happens in the occasional RPG, where your companions fall for each other if you never make a move towards them. Byakuran thinks of such occurrences, of such lives heâs lived with different lovers himself, and then stops thinking of them. For this existence? This one in particular has Spanner working deep in the machinations of the Millefiore, not inclined to a leadership position that would take him away from the robotics that he loves so much. And Shoichi, in this oneâŚÂ âCould you at least look at me when trying to feed me that lie?â Byakuran laughs again, shoulders shaking a little, before he rolls his head back along the couch to look at him upside-down. Shoichi the the Right Hand Man, the inevitable betrayer, stares right back at him before heaving out a sigh. Theoretically, heâs supposed to be clad in Millefiore lily white at all times, especially when dealing with official business here in Byakuranâs very own expansive office. Yet itâs a testament to the privilege Shoichi possesses that he can be half out of it already, revealing not a slick suit or combat ready tank top but one of his any ratty and worn band tees. If any of their subordinates caught sight of Shoichi in such a state, it would likely only further fuel the rumors Byakuran knows are out there, that Shoichi Irie slipped into his bed long before he slipped into one of the Millefiore uniforms. In some ways, they might almost be right, just never in the way theyâd ever think to think. If only Shoichi would want him enough to try and seduce him, and more than the simple fact that such a thing would be a hilarious experience. No matter the many different worlds, thereâs always someâŚÂ core to these characters. And it is a core part of Shoichi Irie that heâd never really be what one could call âseductiveâ. âIâm looking,â he drawls, long and low, and something about all of it clearly has something to do with the way Shoichi jolts and his mouth twists. He doesnât blush, apparently old enough to have restraint in some area even if not all of them, but Byakuran can recognize the little things like that. The Cheshire Cat smile on his face only widens. âWhat, Sho-chan?â âByakuran-san, youâreâŚâ A huff pops out of him and he strides over closer. âYou know what, nevermind.â âNow now!â Byakuran laughs, reaching behind him to pull Shoichi closer once heâs in reach until his arms are folding over his shoulders and he can better see the schematics his supposed right hand is fiddling with. Still he keeps his fingers slipped through those reddish brown curls. Theyâre soft, comforting. A reminder that, at this stage in the game, he can still enjoy the little occurrences. Those are the kinds of things which help keep a person playing over and over again. âI encourage complete and total honesty in my subordinates, Sho-chan. Itâs not good to bottle things up inside, either!â For all of Byakuranâs power- the physical where heâs become steadily good enough in close combat, the political and social where he could destroy a personâs life with a single message, the flames of his which burn through the barriers of separation and the barriers of flesh- For all of that, Shoichi in every iteration never seems to falter enough. He always manages to drum up a look of faint unimpressed exasperation, regardless of his situation. Byakuran likes the one Shoichi is wearing right now, the type where his fondness softens all of the harder edges until his affection bleeds through. If it ever becomes a dam, Byakuran suspects that will be one of the times when heâs won. âYou only say those sorts of things,â Shoichi mutters, âbecause you find it funny when I get pissed off about things such as Glo Xinia and get petty.â âI donât say it only because of that!â he says, even as he laughs. He laughs because itâs true, and he laughs at the ways itâs not, and because heâll enjoy these moments where he can be with Shoichi with the Mare Sun Ring on his finger almost fake enough to make him think that this is a perfect run. But heâs still waiting for that inevitable betrayal. There is always some core part, isnât there? Shoichiâs core has never made him take the final step into staying by Byakuranâs side. Shoichi the Double Agent is a new one, although that only makes things a little more interesting. It also explains a lot, honestly, from how Shoichi had insisted on being able to take care of this younger Vongola with no reinforcements, to how he had kept their block against the Ten Year Bazookaâs effects so close at hand. Byakuran has to hand it to him- he could have been a world class actor in another world. Opposing him outright, or a heel turn at the last moment, those are the choices heâs used to. Yet heâd forgotten, in his apathy, that there was indeed a third option when it came to Shoichi Irie. There was nothing ever stopping him from going along with Byakuranâs plans while readying a knife for his back the whole while. Faintly, he wonders if he would have bothered to stop any bit of Shoichiâs plot, at least in this world. Probably not. All of his selves need to ignore at least one thing or go along with one plot if only to see how that might affect the timeline relevant to a completely different self. Itâs enlightening, too, listening to Shoichi explain the entire situation for the benefit of the younger Tsunayoshi Sawadaâs group. While he likes to torment his many opponents with his supposed omniscience, Byakuran knows his abilities far better than anyone else. Certainly, heâs far closer to the very concept of omniscience than any other human would normally be⌠but heâs not quite there yet. If he knew everything, if he had the walkthrough guide to the game of his life, then he would have accomplished his main goal a thousand lifetimes ago instead of having it vex him so much. No, he only knows as much as any aspect of himself knows and shares with the rest of himself. He canât be in multiple places at once, or, rather, he can, but theyâre so detached as to something have no bearing on one another. Every life is its own, even as every life is him. So, up until this point as he patiently takes in the meeting of his foes and Shoichi, he canât ever have imagined that Shoichi the Underground Engineer had been thinking of this when he had questioned Byakuranâs ability to continue the game. Itâs a brilliant play, a reality breaking move to match his own⌠and all he can do is smile, smile, smile. The inclusion of a love interest for the main character can really drag a game down, or raise it up to something so popular as to be overwhelming. A rushed and poorly thought out romance can dock a point or two from a review, while a truly heartbreaking or varied one can be the main reason why anyone even touches it. Once upon a time, he had thought that Shoichi Irie had been just a minor side quest. Enjoyable enough on its own, sure, but no more than delving into a cave during a fantasy game for some quest or another. Entertaining in a mindless fashion. Yet even now, even without the Mare Sunâs quiet intense longing for a finger that wonât ever slip into it, he thinks that was foolish of himselves. Shoichi was never so simple as a minor side quest. He was as vital a part of the main storyline as any party member, as any guiding NPC, as any fridged lover. Byakuran wonders how heâll die this time. Shoichi Irie doesnât die. Oh, he certainly does a lot of things that would logically lead to the death of most other people who attempted to do the same. He volunteers to be on the frontlines, despite lacking box and Ring both, staring Byakuran straight in the eyes as he says it. He helps control a moving tank of a headquarters to defend himself even when heâs being shot at. He removes himself from that tank, despite the metal being the best object of defense available to him, and forces exhausted legs to keep moving. He looks at the most powerful person in all of existence and makes demands of him despite the fact that he canât even get up on his own two fee without assistance. All the while, he burns. Byakuran basks in it, even as he refuses to let this particular part of the game go on any longer and denies all Shoichi would want for. This has always been a game between them, more than even the Vongola that so often seem to have a tendency of being his biggest obstacle in so many worlds. So, more than Tsunayoshi Sawada, more than the one of two remaining Arcobaleno in the world, more than anyone else, he savors the look of desperate frustrated outrage on Shoichiâs face. Out of his list of things he wants the most in the world, itâs not at his highest shelf, only perhaps in third place, and yet thatâs more than good enough. Having that burning and sheering brightness focused on him alone will always place even when not in first. Of courseâŚ. When first rolls around⌠When Yuni reveals herself, reveals that very puzzle Byakuran has been tearing over in so many places and times and lives, well, every gamer wants to get first place. Byakuran forgets him, save for the briefest flicker of a thought that he ought to thank him in one life or another for helping make this to be the run that finally succeeds. Loss is a new feeling, in more ways than one. Heâs lost his battle, and his war, fire stripping away flesh from bone, bone from existence. Heâs lost the game. Heâs even, and especially, lost his sense of self as those flames do more than be rid of the physical. They sever him, completely, utterly, the changing of one blood red sky to something softer and quieter, and heâs never released how much was bearing down on his mind until itâs all been stripped away from him. In the last few seconds where he still exists- only himself, this self, this Byakuran Gesso who has lead this Millefiore family to where it is today in this very moment- thereâs so much space to simply⌠think. On a lot of things. On the very Player 2 that the Cervello once told him about, that Aria knew about with those amused deep eyes of hers, that a starving man in a lab cleaner than he was plotted so hard to bring into creation. On if perhaps this was perhaps a testerâs way of playing the game, but not how it was to be played. On if he had only been wistful when heâd seen a face twisted in quiet despair from beyond their little arena. Next time. He wonders if thereâll be a next time. âJustâŚ. donât? Alright? Can we please just, stop? I would appreciate it if you could stop. Just⌠stay in bed and donât start a fight with the three other absurdly powerful people that are in this hospital.â Shoichi (the teenager, the young genius, thrice lived) tucks Byakuran into the hospital bed so securely like he thinks cotton will be enough to stop really anyone from doing anything. Byakuran lets him, and only partially because heâs surprisingly wore out. This, too, is a new experience, different from the many memories that still overwhelm him from other lives he knows but hasnât lived. Then again, none of the lives that heâd lived had ever focused on anything but that one, singular goal. Heâs never gotten to experience what itâs felt like to be shot at with full strength by one of the Arcobaleno, or seen just how much power the Vindice had been hiding beneath their dark coats for so long. Not in many lives has he gotten to be so close to Shoichi like this, watching a face much younger than what heâs used to crumple up in an exhausted exasperation that apparently never aged a single bit since the day he was born. Itâs a brand new hospital room that heâs been moved to, now, and itâs completely empty save for the two of them. Everyone else whoâd been present, those who would have been his Millefiore in another life, another future, have been looped into clean up efforts on account of the fact that none of them are so gravely injured like he is. Even Bluebell, although heâs fairly confident that sheâll do more playing than helping alongside the new friend sheâd made as sheâs been steadily absorbed into the Giglio Nero. Thatâs been slowly happening with all of them, heâs noticed quietly, and thatâs probably for the better. He might not have the walkthrough guide for life- perhaps never had it- but heâs seen enough clips to know that theyâd find nothing and neither would he if they stuck with him in the same path that he went down in one future thatâs now ceased to exist for himself. The person at his bedside right now must know this as well, and yet. âI donât make any promises,â he tells Shoichi, smiling as the teenager slumps into a chair. He doesnât look as bad as he could be, because Byakuran has seen him go through the full spectrum of destroyed and devastated and depressedâŚ. but he does look dead tired, bags under his eyes better suited for the grave and his hair messy from lack of sleep or care. The frames of his glasses smack into his knuckles when he reaches up beneath them to rub at his eyes. âI really wish you would.â Hands dropping down to his lap, he shifts awkwardly in his seat and glances back toward the closed door where armed guards are waiting just outside. For all his effect on the various aspects of reality, for the sheer potential of what he can do, Byakuran is always being watched. Yuni has accepted his assistance for this latest disaster, of course, but sheâs surprisingly clever. Thatâs how sheâd waited so patiently in another future, getting the Cervello into the perfect position to grant her access to the exact right place at the exact right time. Similarly, sheâd agreed and complied with the Vongola when theyâd requested surveillance on him. Byakuran doesnât blame them. Heâs not sure heâs still entirely attached to a lot in the world to do things like levy blame at anyone for just about any reason. Shoichi is a direct contrast in that he doesnât even remotely belong here, and everyone knows it. Everyone on Tsunayoshi Sawadaâs side is a part of the Vongola officially now, with even the actual toddler being related to another mafia Family. The Varia, well, they donât need any introduction to those who are a part of this life. The same can be said for Mukuro Rokudoâs lot, all criminals in their own right, and every single one of the Arcobaleno are wanted for their skills in both ways that can mean. Shoichi Irie is only a middle schooler at a good school whose family has been told that he was going to a tutor who could refer to him a good college while, the last some nights, heâs been involved in the life and death battles of overpowered criminal organizations and helping build a giant super robot that most college students could only dream of. If he wanted to wash his hands of everything, then he would have at least a 50% chance of success with how soft hearted the Vongola, Giglio Nero, and Cavallone could all be. Yet here he is, one heel bobbing up and down through the air down to the floor while his hand remains loosely curled over his stomach. âIâve killed you, you know,â Byakuran says casually, stretching his fingers along the too-clean sheets of his bed. From the corner of his eye, he can see Shoichiâs leg promptly freeze its jiggling. âIn a lot of different timelines.â Even if it wasnât directly, well, his hand was always buried deep in that particular pie. It takes a long few seconds before Shoichi remembers to breathe. With his exhale, the invisible strings keeping his body upright seem to vanish and he slumps forwards. His hands curling into that curly hair are a sight Byakuran is intimately familiar with. âI know, Byakuran-san,â he says, polite even after all of this, across multiple realities. Polite even he sounds as though he would rather be having anything but this kind of conversation, preferably in a bed of his own somewhere. Well, with how their first meeting in this particular universe had involved Shoichi yelling at everyone else about how he wasnât to be trusted, itâs sort of a given that he knows. Regardless. âI thought you might need a reminder,â he replies, head falling back a little further into his pillow. Despite how long people can end up staying, hospital pillows really are garbage, heâs come to find. Even when the mafia is involved. And a little bit of the yakuza. Shoichiâs fingers keep sliding further backwards, catching tangles and tugging free of them until he can rest them curved over the back of his neck. âThanks for that,â he deadpans. As with many worlds, Byakuran seems to have a talent for getting rid of that patience, even in the times where Shoichi never holds it against him. With that, his head drops, glasses threatening to bounce right off of his face. It occurs to him, then, that there might be something else responsible for the darkened skin under Shoichiâs eyes and the weight dragging his spine ever further down towards irreparable back pain. Itâs something that heâs had to deal with forâŚ. something that feels like years, but which he knows, by the way people quantify time, hasnât actually happened. Yet that realization only makes Shoichiâs choice to be here over anywhere else in even this whole building alone a⌠puzzling mystery. His smile shifts a little bit, not as bright and careless, and he finally asks the question heâs been wondering for days and days now. âWhy are you here, then, Sho-chan?â That gets Shoichi to looks up at him again, blinking a few times in pure befuddlement. âWhat?â âIâve killed you a lot of times,â Byakuran answers patiently, still looking straight at him. This young, and his eyes seem a little darker than the brilliant green he has so many memories of. âI could kill you in this universe, too. So why are you still here taking care of me, Sho-chan? There are others you could get to do this.â Shoichi breathes in slowly again, and removes his hands from his neck with about the same speed. âIâve been wondering that myself,â he admits. âBut, Byakuran-san⌠You havenât killed me yet.â âŚHuh. That actually wipes the smile from his face. When all Byakuran does is stare, head flopping to the side too quickly to be called a 'curious tiltâ, Shoichi promptly flusters a nice red and jerks his shoulders up. âI know!â he snaps, which would be an overreaction if they didnât know each other so well. Have known each other so well even without ever having met before in this lifetime before a little over a week ago, maybe. âI know the, the yet is kind of a, itâs a pressing point, thereâs nothing guarantee that you wonât justâŚ. do the same terrible horrible things all over again!â Every ounce of stillness is gone from him now. Free from their anchor along his own skin, Shoichiâs hands start to go flying everywhere as he gestures wildly. âI- I remember the kinds of things you can do, I know for a fact, and youâve definitely proved that you can just⌠Youâre not any weaker from that point in time, as far as I can tell! But I just-â He draws one hand back, raking it a lot more harshly through his hair than before. âI can remember you dying.â Brows drawn tight together, his eyes⌠Theyâre not burning, not in the way that Byakuran has become so accustomed to, and yet theyâre an altogether different kind of intense that has him forgetting to even blink. Shoichi says nothing more on that, says nothing on what was going through his mind as he watched even Byakuranâs very bones turn to ash on the wind. He doesnât need to. In every lifetime of his that Byakuran has ever seen, his goal has always been to oppose him eventually, inevitably. Itâs simply never been a goal, he realizes then, that heâd ever reach with any element of personal happiness attached. A single shuddering breath breaks the silence, and Shoichi continues with a trembling voice thatâs only barely calmer than his frantic explanation from a second before. âBut you havenât killed me yet,â he repeats, like a spell. âWhatever will happen in the future, or any other futures, it just⌠It hasnât happened yet. So Iâm just going to deal with the now, with what weâve actually done, before anything else.â That phrasing tips him off to whatâs going on in that brain of his, and Byakuran eases back into his pillows a little bit more. âHey, Sho-chan,â he says, making sure that heâs snapped out his own brain before continuing. When heâs sure heâs gotten his attention, Byakuran smiles. âYou remember two different lives, hm?â His flinch says it all. Most of those who were tightly bound with that one particular future were, to his understanding and one way or the other, given some memories of the event. Byakuranâs knowledge of it is incomplete, admittedly, on account of that self being dead by that point, but he can extrapolate enough. The latest battle demonstrated well enough the combined abilities of the worldâs greatest scientist, the unparalleled abilities of the Millefioreâs once-own professional Gola Mosca engineer, and everything that Shoichi Irie is. That sort of thing would have been easy enough for them to do, to the embarrassment of no doubt many other scientists in the world. Yet thereâs a problem with that. For all the others- the tenth generation of the Vongola, the reclusive and violent lot under Mukuro Rokudo, the Varia- theyâd only remember the memories of that single time, perhaps an entire lifetime depending on what adjustments had been made for individuals such as Xanxus and Dino of the Cavallone. Yet even before he had died, Byakuran had learned enough to know that Shoichi Irie wasnât anything like the rest of those who would remember that future, and in a way that had nothing to do with his favoritism for the other. Shoichi had been able to do what heâd done because a future version of himself had trapped a younger version of himself in his future long enough to suppress his memories of time travel, implant sleeper memories of that entire future along with plans to stop Byakuran, and then send him back into the past with the hopes that would stop something. Anything. By the time Captain Shoichi Irie of the Millefiore, double agent, had prepared his machine to let the Vongolaâs tenth gen go back to their own time, he'd already been carrying the memories of an entirely different life and future around with him. When Shoichi Irie the simple teenager had gotten those memories again, heâd remembered not just one other life, but two entirely separate ones, layered on top of the memories he has of his own life in this universe now. Forcing himself to relax to what Byakuran finds to be mixed success, Shoichi leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands holding onto himself. âHow⌠How do you deal with it?â he asks softly. Byakuran jazz hands towards himself. Shoichi squeezes his eyes shut in accompaniment to the scrunching of his mouth. âAlright, I- nevermind. I take back that question. Itâs obvious how youdealt with it.â âHa ha.â âStop that.â Reaching up, he drags one hand down his face. âPlease. Ugh, I think Iâm going to be sick againâŚâ âYouâve picked no better place for it, Sho-chan!" "Please, justâŚ. stop that too.â Sneakers scruffing against linoleum, he slumps backwards into his seat and delegates one hand to wrap around his stomach again. His other hand stays right where it is up against his face. âOkay, if you canât⌠promise that you wonât get into a fight with the other super-powered forces of nature also being treated in this hospital, can youâŚâ He falters, for a moment, no doubt remembering so many promises that Byakuran failed to keep. ââŚJust donât do that again. Alright? Donât⌠try any of those timelines again.â Thereâs a lot Byakuran could say about that, how heâs clearly lost so many rounds that he can at least gracefully step back from the controller, that heâs honestly become sort of tired after so many different livetimes where he worked so hard for something that he couldnât get pastâŚ. But he doesnât. Thatâs a conversation that can, maybe, come at a different time. For now, he only continues to smile slightly in Shoichiâs direction. âThere are other things I want to do now, Sho-chan,â he answers, which isnât really false in any way. Itâs only simplified. Shoichi takes what reassurance he can squeeze out of that response, nodding his head as if itâs made of lead. âOkay,â he says, quietly. âOkay. So I guess thatâs⌠taken care of for now. I guess.â Even with armed guards, itâs good to see that even Shoichi is aware that Byakuran is only really contained when he wants to be. âNow all we have to do is just⌠focus on the present.â He whistles a breath out between his teeth. âEasier said than done.â While Byakuranâs own case far outdoes just about anyone elseâs situation, well, that doesnât change the fact that theyâre both in the same boat of remembering more lives than 99.9% of the planet. How are they to move on so neatly, âlive in the presentâ, when their minds are tied up in so many knot of other futures, other experiences, that they can barely stay put together? Byakuran nudges his hand a little closer to the metal railing of his bed, the failed purpose of which is to keep him in place. âTaking over the world is still an option, Sho-chan. And Iâd still make you my Number 2, even.â The expression directed his way would be alarmed, if it wasnât weighed down with so much exasperated annoyance instead. âByakuran-san, what did I just say.â Prying his hand away from his face, Shoichi huffs. âMaybe Yuni-san would know⌠Even if I feel bad about bothering a little girl about this sort of thing. She wanted to talk with me anyway sometime this weekâŚâ Consider Byakuranâs interest stirred. âOh, Yuni-chan wanted to talk with you? About what?â Rolling his head back, Shoichi is too exhausted to even look at him this time. âShe wasnât clear. Just that she wanted to talk with me and⌠Daisy-sanâŚ?â The sudden laughter that bursts forth from Byakuranâs mouth has Shoichi snap up in surprise. âWhat? Whatâs so funny!?â Grinning widely, Byakuran wipes away a tear of mirth from his eye with the heel of his hand. âNothing big, Sho-chan,â he says, which is so transparent a lie that he doesnât feel bad about it. Once again, he suspects heâs been outmaneuvered by a child, although the women of the Giglio Nero are so strange and otherwordly that perhaps he shouldnât be surprised. He has a suspicion of what exactly she aims to speak to Shoichi about. Which leaves all the burden of effort on him now, doesnât it? He allows his eyes to slide shut, comfortable exactly where he is. This entire time, perhaps heâs been playing the game all wrong, gotten the objectives all mixed up. Perhaps this isnât even the game he thought it was. If thatâs the caseâŚÂ âI think I want to try things your way, Sho-chan.â And, for the first time in so many lifetimes, he feels a light touch at his own hand in return.Â
#event#summer#holidays#2k19#trilies#lighteningdancer#story#fanart#drabble#fanfiction#khr#katekyo hitman reborn!#Katekyoshi Hitman Reborn#hitman reborn!#reborn!#shoichi#irie#byakuran#gift#exchange#secret#santa#submission
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Justw ondering what your writing process is like?
Itâs me, ya girl, coming at you with an answer twenty years after you asked the question!!! Sorry for the delay; Iâm actually really excited to answer this! And Iâm excited to be excited to answer this!!!
I am a Perfectionist, Anon. It is not a good quality. For most of my life, I was so petrified by the possibility of someone seeing something I hadnât polished within an inch of itâs life that I wouldnât even acknowledge I had a process. I wouldnât mention I was writing something until it was completely done out of fear that they might want to talk to me about it when I hadnât finalized everything and I might not represent my very best possible creative work. Also I never really thought of myself as being enough of a writer to have a process. That seemed too good for the likes of me!
But here we are now, in the Year of Our Thor 2019, and I am psyched to tell you every detail of my process and show you a side by side of my first draft and final product!!! That is so much progress for me, Anon, and I didnât even realize Iâd made until you sent me this so thank you!!!
(This is going to be long--please hold your gasps of surprise--so Iâm putting the rest under a cut. Seriously I just finished writing this post and itâs an absolute BEAST.)
So my process!! Iâm actually trying to make some changes to it to be more supportive of my efforts to kick the Perfectionist habits, but right now it basically looks like this:
1. There is an idea. Often times it comes from a question, like âHow would Rea deal with what Iâm feeling right now?â or âIs this a problem in space?â or something like that. Other times it comes from a snippet of dialogue that occurs to me while Iâm listening to a song or watching tv or driving or in the shower or something. Sometimes itâs as minor as a gesture or a mood. Sometimes Iâm just trying to exercise a certain muscle as a writer. This fic sprang up out of me wanting to work on describing settings. Wherever it comes from, I have the idea. I open a new Google doc and I slap down as much of the idea as I have developed.The lines of dialogue or the question I want to answer or just a few sentences about what I want to show or what Iâm trying to achieve.
2. Time passes. I might work on the fic in feverish fits and starts, obsessing over it for three days and then ignoring it completely for three weeks. I might not look at it at all. The fic sits fragmented in my WIP folder and marinates. Usually this happens for about 1-3 years after the ficâs initial conception. Iâm not joking about this. I think my average time for completing a fic is 2 years. The reason for that is the aforementioned Perfectionism.
3. I get tired of looking at in my WIP folder and/or I commit to some kind of special event/holiday thing. Fictober rolls around and I go on a kick of completing and editing the stuff in my WIP folder or I just get annoyed with myself for not completing things or itâs suddenly Arbor Day again and I have that tree-related fic I started two years ago that I could finally finish! This is when I buckle down and Write The Damn Thing. Once itâs written, I do an immediate edit and then I try to sleep on it for at least one night before going back and editing again. After that I usually like to sleep on it at least one more night before hitting publish. Sometimes I donât have the self-restraint for all of this or Iâm doing an event where Iâve committed myself to publishing something every single day, so the timeline gets compressed to a few hours between edits instead of a full day.
As for my writing set up, Iâve really leaned in to writing wherever I am and whenever I can. Thatâs more or less why I only write fic in Google Docs even though I passionately love Scrivener. (All my original work, which is more involved, is done on Scrivener.)Â
I do a lot of writing in the quiet, early hours at work when I donât have work to do. I do probably my most efficient writing when I hit a diner or coffee shop after work and settle in with my iPad and a snack. I canât distract myself with doing chores or playing games like I do at home, and working on my iPad makes it annoying to switch tabs and apps and do other stuff while I write. Plus Iâm eager to get home and take my pants off so that motivates me to let Perfectionism go and write something bad just to hit my goal so I can leave. At home, Iâm usually on the couch with my iPad because I get too distracted at my desk on my PC with two enormous screens making it so easy to do other stuff instead of write while telling myself Iâm doing other stuff at the same time as writing.
As you can see!!! I spend most of my âwriting timeâ just trying to make myself at all!!!! Itâs really daunting to overcome the fear of writing something bad and big parts of me would rather not write at all than endure the pain of failing at creating what I want to create so thanks Perfectionism!!!
I also have a really, really bad habit of editing while I write. I wonât say Iâm the worldâs worst editing-while-writing writer but Iâm definitely top 100. (Bottom 100?) Itâs a huge reason why I have those 1-3 year gaps between start and finish and why my first drafts come out so choppy. My inner editor has me rewriting before Iâve even finished writing and redirecting and itâs so disheartening I can only do it in fits and starts and you can clearly tell the places where I took a two month break before coming back to a fic.
But Iâm working on this!!! Like I said, I try to go out and write as much as possible because the desire to be at home without pants on often overpowers my fear of Being Bad and makes it so much easier to give myself permission to write badly. That is the goal. Write Badly. Iâm working on it and Iâm making progress but I have a long way to go still. For now I have to rely heavily on supports like controlling my environment but one day I will be able to write absolute drivel on demand!! The dream!!!
And now, for your entertainment and to celebrate the fact that I am now somehow able to do this at all, I give you the first draft of the forsythias chapter from fill my lungs with sweetness, including the masterful original title:
??oil?????
Doc slips his hand from the inside of his jacket as he rounds the corner and walks straight into the steel-melting heat of Kiraâs glare. Or maybe thatâs just the extra sun. Hard to tell on Tatooine.
âDone shopping, Your Highness?â She asks, rolling her eyes at him before sheâs even finished asking the question. âThink we can fit saving some lives into your busy schedule?â
Doc just laughs, patting the little bulge in his breast pocket. âPeople expect a dashing hero when theyâre being saved, Junior. Iâd hate to disappoint.â
âNo one cares how waxy your mustache is when theyâre bleeding out,â Kira says. âUgh. Letâs just go.â
Vii is waiting for them by the speeder, having an improbably good-natured chat with a Gamorrean at least three times her size. They seem to be actually smiling at her, which is something he knows from medical school is technically possible but never expected to see. Kiraâs inching her fingers toward her laser sword, always ready to leap headlong to the worst possible conclusion, but Doc waves her off.
He congratulates himself that, despite the withering look she gives him, Kira lets her hand fall. She trusts him at least as far as Viiâs well-being is concerned.
(He isnât sure how he feels about how everyone seems to know just how deep his interest in her well-being goes.)
âMaking friends?â He calls out, keeping his walk casual and slow and his hands clearly visible and clearly far from the blaster at his hip. The Gamorreanâs smile fades at his approach, replaced with the kind of slow-moving suspicion Doc is more used to seeing there.
Vii, however, does not stop smiling. Instead, she turns that smile on him. Brighter and more blinding than both of the suns combined.
âGorzzak was just telling me about some problem spots in the canyons,â she says, her voice as light and tinkling and utterly sincere as ever. âNice of them, isnât it?â
And the thing that he still canât believe, no matter how many times he sees it, is that it really is nice. Because heâs sure that Gorzzak really did point out all the spots he would normally use to lure unsuspecting travellers into ambushes. Heâs sure that Gorzzak, even with only three neurons to rub together, has been absolutely dazzled by the obvious shine of Viiâs heart, just like everyone is.
Doc swallows, his throat starting to feel unbearably thick. Probably from all the sand.
âVery nice,â he agrees. âBut Iâve got something even better.â
âHow is your mustache wax a gift forââ Kira stops as she catches sight of his eager grin, her face screwing up in an expression heâs starting to think she saves just for him. âDisgusting,â she mutters, her voice low enough that Vii wonât hear. It isnât the best-kept secret, but Kira, for all her faults, loves Vii too much to shatter her illusion of secrecy like that. Not even to make a dig at Doc.
Vii watches as he reaches into his breast pocket, her expression openly anticipating the surprise, her glowing eye wide and perfectly prepared to be delighted with him. Itâs such a refreshing change of pace, how eager she is to be happy with him. To like him. She never makes him work for it and honestly he doesnât always know what to do with that.
But right now he does.
He produces the little flask of oil with a flourish and his signature self-satisfied grin. Kira would call it his sleazy smirk, but how can he be expected to think of Junior when heâs got Vii in front of him, beaming like this wretched planetâs third sun.
Doc doesnât entirely understand everything that happens to him when she radiates like this. When she unleashes the full force of her joy on him and he feels thoroughly cooked from the inside out.
âItâs the good stuff,â he explains. âImported from Corellia. Iâve only been once, but I remember everything was coated in a fine layer of oil so they probably know a thing or two about making it. Anyway, I know how the joints can lock up with all this sand around. Thought you could use some⌠lubrication.â
This last point is made for Kiraâs benefit, and her revolted snort does not disappoint him.
âThe doctor is on call, Gorgeous. Anytime you need oiled up, my hands are ready.â
#on writing#replies#this is extremely long and more detail than anyone probably wanted#but i like to talk about this stuff#and i am very excited to be in a place#where i feel like i have a right to#ive come a long way folks!!!#Anonymous
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Chase Koenekeâs Top 10 Handheld Games of 2018
2018 couldâve been a bummer of a year. The game I was most excited about â Fire Emblem: Three Houses â got pushed to 2019. We were getting a new Pokemon game...but it was based on a mobile game and was fundamentally changing the formula I loved. And outside of Smash Bros., there was little left I was anticipating.
And yet, 2018 turned out to be a fantastic year in handheld gaming. I got a turn-based strategy game thatâs up there with any Fire Emblem game Iâve ever played. That Pokemon game ended up being pretty great! And there were a bevy of unexpected indies that kept me entertained all year long. Here are my top 10 handheld games from 2018 (as well as a few honorable mentions).
Honorable Mentions: Mark of the Ninja Remastered, Gris, Kingdom Rush Vengeance, Donut County, West of Loathing
10. Minit (Switch, PS4, Xbox One, PC)
I like to take my time in games â fully exploring worlds, talking to NPCs, reading item descriptions. In that sense, Minit, a top-down Zelda-style game that only allows you to play in one-minute sessions should be my nightmare. But itâs not. In fact, I really liked it. Minitâs limitations freed me from my thinking and made me engage with the game on its level. In a world dominated by GPS and a gamesâ landscape dominated by easily accessible maps, thereâs something refreshingly challenging having to commit the area to memory and make plans on not only what to do next, but how to make it there in time.
9. Golf Peaks (iOS, PC)
Iâm bad at real golf, but golf video games, especially the ones that donât try to meticulously recreate the sport, are my jam. Mario Golf on the Game Boy Color is one of my favorite games ever. Golf Story was one of my favorite games last year. And Golf Peaks takes that crown in 2018. Golf Peaks expertly mixes golf, card and puzzle mechanics to make for a uniquely pleasing combination. New obstacles are layered in world by world and get increasingly bizarre, until what youâre playing is barely recognizable as golf. Golf Peaks feels meticulously crafted, and it makes for a difficult, but rewarding experience. Unfortunately, because itâs so bespoke, itâs a finite experience, and once youâve completed it, thereâs little reason to revisit it. A new world has been added since the gameâs release, but after completing it in less than an hour, Iâm back to waiting for more.
8. Altoâs Odyssey (iOS, Android)
Altoâs Adventure was one of my favorite games of 2015, a gorgeous and fun take on the infinite runner genre. Altoâs Odyssey further refines the formula by adding in even more things to do. The silky-smooth jumps, grinds and backflips return, along with the sublime wingsuit power-up, but they are joined by Tony Hawk-style wall rides that add a new dimension to the game. With uniquely skilled characters to unlock and upgrades to literally and figuratively grind for, Odyssey will keep you busy for a long time. Itâs one of those rare phone games thatâs good for play sessions both long and short, and its action never gets old.
7. Final Fantasy XV: Pocket Edition (iOS, Android, Switch, PS4, Xbox One, PC)
I was intrigued by Final Fantasy XV on the PS4, but ultimately bounced off its combat and general milling about. Pocket Edition fixes both of those issues and lets me enjoy what I really like about the game: its story and its characters. The miniaturized version of FFXV has turned it into a linear game with simplified controls (touch controls if youâre playing the phone version). The way it retains quite a bit of the themes and depth (and voice acting) of the original game despite streamlining it never ceased to impress me. And weirdly, playing Pocket Edition has actually reawakened my desire to play the original game. I want to see this treatment given to other Final Fantasy games.
6. Florence (iOS, Android)
Florence is not a game I would traditionally play on a phone. Itâs not an infinitely replayable, puzzling experience like Threes or Drop7 or even a Kingdom Rush. But it is an experience, and one I deeply appreciated. Florence made me feel more than any other game this year, and it did it in a game that takes only about a half hour. It tells a mundane, yet impactful story about relationships. Itâs beautiful. Itâs funny. Itâs tragic. But most of all, itâs real, and it uses its touchscreen controls to great effect to make you feel like you are an active participant in the story. Itâs somehow simultaneously abstract and extremely specific, and I think itâs something everyone should witness.
5. Pokemon Letâs Go Pikachu/Eevee (Switch)
This is the Metal Gear Solid 2 of Pokemon. Let me explain. In MGS2, you play as Raiden, and you learn that you are being put through a similar adversity to the original MGSâ Shadow Moses Island in the hopes of turning you into another legendary hero like Solid Snake.
In Pokemon Letâs Go, things start familiar enough to anyone whoâs played the first generation of Pokemon games (particularly, Yellow). You get a starter, you battle your rival, you face Brock and Misty and the other gym leaders and you stumble into and interrupt a nefarious Team Rocket plot. Itâs all there. Except then you run into Blue, who is the real rival from the first generation of Pokemon. Which means your rival isnât your rival. And you arenât you. Itâs fascinating and I ended up loving it.
Mechanically, itâs a weird mix of adding from more recent games while also stripping away complexity. Mega Evolutions are in. Held items are out. HMs are out. Steel, dark and fairy types are in. And there are some brand-new mechanics like catch combos that are a fun and new way to engage with Pokemon. Itâs not all rainbows (Iâm still not sold on the GO-style catching system,) but I hope the next mainline Pokemon game takes a little inspiration from these games. And I hope they remake Gold and Silver in this style too.
4. Holedown (iOS/Android)
Holedown became my go-to phone game for most of 2018. While you can beat it in a manner of hours, the game is so addictively fun and replayable with its final, seemingly endless level that youâll be happy to dive back in again and again to improve your score. Holedown is satisfying in every sense of the word. Endorphins rush when you see and hear massive streams of balls ping-ponging off walls. Hitting the perfect angle to keep the combo going higher and higher is intensely gratifying. Itâs so easy to play and understand, and yet youâll be learning new tricks after your hundredth attempt. Holedown rules. Play Holedown.
3. Super Robot Wars X (Vita, PS4)
OK, this oneâs a bit of a stretch. Super Robot Wars is not available in the US last I checked (though it is available in English.) Also, I did not play its handheld Vita version. Instead I played it on the PS4. So, on one hand, this game doesnât really belong on this list. On the other hand, I love Super Robot Wars X so much, so itâs staying.
This was my first dip into the series and immediately found it to be an incredibly dense and confusing experience. Itâs a turn-based strategy game like Fire Emblem, which sounds right up my alley, but the number of things to account for is staggering. To list all its mechanics would be a daunting exercise. Slowly, but surely, I learned to engage with more and more systems until finally, I felt like I could see the code, that I had entered the Matrix. I suddenly knew strategy game kung-fu. The game would set up almost impossible odds and, sometimes after an insane amount of consideration, Iâd find a solution. I could boost the range on one weapon for the one turn I need it. Or maybe that shield Iâve never used would actually come in handy here. Oh wait, this pilot has a special skill I could utilize. The solutions are always there, you just have to look for them. Itâs a beast of a game, but one I became utterly mesmerized with.
2. Dead Cells (Switch, PS4, Xbox One, PC)
I jealously watched early access PC players make run after run on Dead Cells. I heard people extol the gameâs virtues on countless podcasts, and then, finally, the game released on Switch and I too could experience its splendor. And boy, did it deliver. Dead Cells bends over backwards to tailor the game experience to you. It allows you to choose what and when to unlock new skills, letting you further customize your arsenal as you play. It accounts for novice players who need to take their time getting through its sprawling levels while also providing options for crafty veterans who are able to speed through its content. And yet, as much as it caters, youâll inevitably get to a point in your run where the game says âOK, now weâre going to test you.â I have failed that test every time. I have not beaten Dead Cells. But I am damn sure ready to try again.
1. Into The Breach (Switch, PC)
Where Super Robot Wars X is a turn-based mech strategy game on a macro scale, with an inconceivable amount of systems and options to deal with for your double-digit army of robotic fighters, Into The Breach stuffs all the same intensity into a comparably tiny grid and only a trio of battlers. It maintains the perfect amount of complexity, making every unit, every weapon, every move and every choice matter. Itâs the ultimate chess game. And just when you think youâve wrapped your head around its mechanics, it hands you a new team of mechs that plays completely differently. Runs are short, but meaningful, and the optional challenges (that let you unlock more new teams) push you out of your comfort zone to learn new strategies. Not only is it my favorite game of the year by a country mile, it might be one of the best games of all time.
#goty#gotggoty2018#chase koeneke#minit#golf peaks#alto's odyssey#final fantasy xv pocket edition#florence#pokemon let's go#holedown#super robot wars x#dead cells#into the breach
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It's difficult to be some stoic, emotionless statue when you talk about something that left you with a huge void of a wound in your life.
I was playing games with my buddy as we usually do at the end of the day, and he started talking about my ex, who was also a mutual friend of ours for a long while, and used to be as close as family with him.
And it's difficult, trying to act like it's nothing and you're past that and trying to keep some kind of situation defused that you know isn't for their sake.
He was a friend that I got in trouble for in the tail end of high school. We got caught playing games instead of actually working on our classwork a few times, but it was fun regardless. We stopped talking consistently for a few years, but got back in touch during college and talked daily after that.
I'm not talking about just a few things here and there. I mean, we talked so much that my father had to change our cell plan because we managed to pass our limit by HUNDREDS of texts. And this didn't count the times we'd be talking over Skype or Kik, which we'd be doing every day alongside the texts.
We'd have a whole repertoire of games we'd play. For a few months we had a small group who all played on a Minecraft server I set up and modded for all of us (that I still have what seems like almost a decade later). When that group scattered, we started playing Dawn of War and just having fun with building stuff and uncovering the map, because I knew how to exploit the AI into never actually doing anything - even though we sometimes left the AI on in a 2 v 1 scenario.
This next month is going to be difficult because one of the games we played a lot over a lot of years and accrued a lot of hours is Terraria. Every update, we'd make a new world and new characters and make a new base and go through everything to see what all jew stuff was added. And it stung, because the final update finally hit last March, because they hurried the PC patch so people could play during the pandemic. And it's finally hitting console in either July or August, so now I'm going to be departing on the Journeys End all by myself, despite having a companion for the first decade of our trip. With how everything has gone these past few years, it almost feels...fitting.
It was a good 9 years that we talked literally daily. Every morning started with a good morning message, and every night was a goodnight. And despite realizing how much of it ended up being gaslighting and all kinds of subtle abuse, I still look back on so much of it fondly.
It's just not easy to have someone who you adored and loved so deeply for so long just leave because you were no longer useful to them. Because you were no longer a convenience after they finally took every away from you that they could and you had nothing else to give but blood and tears.
I'm not even talking from an ex lover standpoint. He never even actually acted like a boyfriend the whole time we "officially" dated. For a while, it was clear that I was just a placeholder for someone else in his life that he actually wanted around. I had become a pest that he felt resentful of being forced to keep around.
But he was still the only friend I had that was that close, that I let in so much. He was more than just some best friend because he had become my Favorite Person. He was around for more than a third of my life, even three or four years after everything. You don't have someone that close for that long that takes everything from you and utterly destroys you before just walking away as if none of it ever actually meant anything and walk away unscathed.
There is still so much that we used to do together for so long that I still can't even literally simply think about doing without feeling like I'm breaking. Sometimes, I want to force myself to just push through it...but I can't. I can't even look at the games in my library without feeling the extreme distress, without every emotional and mental detail of the whole ordeal rushing through my head in some kind of godforsaken speedrun, without feeling every single ounce of pain and every single good moment with the realization that I'll never find someone like that again, every single time.
I'm sorry for the huge thing yet again. Anyone who reads this probably knows the story from memory by now. But it's one of those times where all my problems are making me feel awful, and people keep dredging stuff up that makes me feel worse, and then stuff like this gets dredged up and amplifies not only itself, but everything else as well.
#Personal#Not medical#Rant#I honestly feel so empty and alone now no matter who else is around or what they are doing#I know they care about me and want me to be happy and mean no harm with it but I just can't really feel anything for anyone anymore#In fact I dread that moment where something happens and I'm supposed to be angry or upset or heartbroken#And I just stand there because I don't even feel what I'm supposed to in that moment and they will realize what's going on#But at the same time I can't just isolate myself using Its For Their Protection as an excuse because that'll make everything worse
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Cyberpunk 2077 Review Roundup
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Cyberpunk 2077 is arguably the most highly-anticipated game of 2020, and after several delays and other controversies, itâs finally here. Fans will be able to get their hands on CD Projekt Redâs new RPG on Dec. 10 (unless you pre-ordered from Best Buy). Ahead of the global launch, hereâs what critics are saying about the game so far:
Andrew Reiner, Game Informer:
âCyberpunk 2077 is a work of awe-inspiring ambition, dazzling with its massive scale and creative vision. The world of Night City is a metropolis of futuristic art, stealing your eye with stunning neon-lit architecture and streets filled with citizens made of flesh and metal. Night City is an open world that immediately pulls you in and keeps you engaged with its dark narrative, meaningful player choice, and overwhelming amount of side content.â
Score: 9/10
Kallie Plagge, Gamespot:
âIt also bears a mention: Cyberpunk 2077 is phenomenally buggy. I played a pre-release build that was updated during the review period, and thereâs a day-one patch planned as well, but the scale of technical issues is too large to reasonably expect immediate fixes. I encountered some kind of bug on every mission I went on, from more common, funnier ones like characters randomly T-posing to several complete crashes. I didnât notice much of an improvement after the update, either. In a very late-game, very important fight, the game froze on meâtwice. I ended up taking a break out of frustration before attempting, and finally succeeding, the third time.
These bugs, more than any game Iâve played in years, took me out of the experience often. Non-interactable items like cardboard boxes will explode when you interact with something next to them; UI elements will stay on-screen long after theyâre meant to, which is only solved by reloading a save; characters will interrupt themselves during proper dialogue sequences by repeating a throwaway line theyâd say in the overworld, seriously disrupting key moments; I died once and, upon reloading my last save, found my hacking ability no longer worked, forcing me to roll back to an autosave 10 minutes prior. The list is extensive.
Score: 7/10
James Davenport, PC Gamer:
âI found it moving and life-affirming in the final moments, even in the face of near certain death and a relentless onslaught of bugs. I suppose itâs an appropriate thematic throughline though: Cyberpunk 2077 is a game about V coming apart at the seams, in a city coming apart at the seams, in a game coming apart at the seams. Play it in a few months.â
Score: 78/100
Tom Marks, IGN:
âCyberpunk 2077 kicks you into its beautiful and dazzlingly dense cityscape with few restrictions. It offers a staggering amount of choice in how to build your character, approach quests, and confront enemies, and your decisions can have a tangible and natural-feeling impact on both the world around you and the stories of the people who inhabit it. Those stories can be emotional, funny, dark, exciting, and sometimes all of those things at once. The main quest may be shorter than expected when taken on its own and itâs not always clear what you need to do to make meaningful changes to its finale, but the multitude of side quests available almost from the start can have a surprisingly powerful effect on the options you have when you get there. Itâs a shame that frustratingly frequent bugs can occasionally kill an otherwise well-set mood, but Cyberpunk 2077âs impressively flexible design makes it a truly remarkable RPG.â
Score: 9/10
James Billcliffe, VG24/7:
âIn the midst of such intense anticipation and scrutiny, itâs easy to get carried away with what Cyberpunk 2077 could have been. The final experience might be more familiar than many predicted, with plenty of elements that arenât perfect, but itâs dripping with detail and engaging stories. With so much to see and do, Cyberpunk 2077 is the kind of RPG where you blink and hours go by, which is just what we need to finish off 2020.â
Score: 5/5
Carolyn Petit, Polygon:
âOne of my fears about Cyberpunk 2077 was that it was going to be so cynical and nihilistic that playing it would be like wallowing in grim hopelessness, that the cheapness of human life in the gameâs world would be mirrored by the game itself. But thatâs not the case. Itâs easy to lose the human thread in the overwhelming glut of stuff Cyberpunk 2077 puts on your plate, with your map plastered with crimes you can violently âneutralizeâ for a reward from the police, and fixers constantly sending you text messages about underdeveloped one-off jobs you can take on to earn a bit of extra cash. But the humanity is there, if you look for it.
âAnd that humanity is the saving grace of this alluring yet uneven and deeply flawed game. I canât deny that Night City wowed me with its scale, its verticality, and its sense of history. But I wish I could see people like me on its streets as something more than objects. I wish that the gameâs politics were more radical. Yes, I know I shouldnât look to a colossal game that was itself produced under exploitative labor conditions to lead the charge of anticapitalist liberation, but I wish the sparks of Johnny Silverhandâs ideological rage got to burn brighter, that Cyberpunk 2077 felt more interested in envisioning new futures than in reminiscing over bygone glories. Neither its gameplay nor its narrative can imagine the bold possibilities that I find so central to the best of cyberpunk. But what it does offer is visions of people trying to make do and get by in a world thatâs trying to eat them alive, and sometimes those people get by with a little help from their friends. Itâs not the revolution I hoped for, but itâs something.â
Riley MacLeod, Kotaku:
âI havenât fallen in love with playing Cyberpunk 2077, but I havenât loathed it either. Some moments have been exciting or moving, while others have just felt like stuff to do. Iâm middle-of-the-road on it so farâhaving fun in spots, left wanting the game to be more like what made The Witcher 3 great in others. The game itself wants so badly for you to think itâs cool, that itâs the cutting edge of graphics and game design, that it talks about edgy topics like body modification, corporate power, and the internet. It tries too hard, stuffing itself with a tangle of complicated roleplaying game systems; with so many cyberpunk tropes, plots, and slang; with neon and holograms and so many in-game ads, most of them for sex; with car chases and hacking and corporate espionage and double-crossing powerful people; with a world where the human body is made obsolete with money and technology, while also chewed up and spat out for the sake of capital. Thereâs an admirable diversity of races, sexualities, genders, and body types, but they feel like a veneer. Itâs not a politically progressive game: these identities are all in service of the gameâs vision of the cyberpunk future, one that can feel implausible and alienating but also has hints of the world we live in today.
Chris Tapsell, Eurogamer:
âItâs still early on for me, I should say â after 30 hours I was still, no doubt to the horror of many with vanishing spare time, just finding my feet â but much of that focus is placed on Cyberpunkâs central story, which has so far been a welcome surprise. Beneath the noise â and Cyberpunk is truly cacophonous â there is a lingering thread of tenderness to it. Iâve opted to play V as a woman, with a âCorpoâ background, and sheâs been voiced impeccably by Cherami Leigh and written with some skill. Thereâs real tenderness here, real vulnerability â a lot of âthis cityâll chew you up and spit you outâ stuff, sure, but thereâs a waver to the tough talk, and from more than just V. Cyberpunkâs story so far is one of fear, the surface of it plated in chrome and angst and body horror gore, but still built on a core of humanity. Itâs more than I expected, and more than weâve been taught to expect, frankly, by the brashness of the marketing, the pitching of Night City as this great, submissive, ultra-hedonist playground. Night City is a vile swamp, in actual fact, and Cyberpunkâs characters are drowning in it. It is, so far, more than just a synthwave skin on another puerile open world.â
Rob Zacny, VICE:
âCyberpunk 2077 is a game of the past and its forgotten futures. Its setting is a pastiche that was overtaken by history and technology. It is a piece of software that is a throwback to PC gaming of the 1990s and early 2000s in every possible way, and its aesthetic and narrative sensibilities of a teenage boyâs bedroom in the 1980s. Yet its lavish and utterly sincere devotion to its influences recalls what has made these dated visions so alluring and enduring. Cyberpunk is too tacky and graceless to be cool, but itâs very big, and very loud, and sometimes thatâs all it takes to be awesome.â
Brad Chacos, PCWorld:
âEven if the main narrative somehow stumbles at the finish line, it wouldnât take away from that sublime core gameplay experience. After a dozen hours, I havenât come close to exhausting the available activities in just the first of Night Cityâs six districts and surrounding Badlands. No matter what happens with V, I canât wait to discover all of Night Cityâs secrets. Iâm in love.â
Richard Scott Jones, PCGamesN:
âRetroactive trigger warning about âpolitics in gamesâ for whoever cares about such things, by the way, but if thatâs you, then youâd best steer clear of Cyberpunk 2077 if you stand by your claimed convictions. This is one of the most explicitly politically charged games ever made â Mike Pondsmith designed the tabletop game upon which itâs based as a âcautionary tale,â and after the killing of George Floyd back in June, reiterated that his universe is âa warning, not an aspirationâ. Anyone who insists itâs pure, meaningless escapism is hopelessly deluded.
âEven if such sentiments are uttered in sincere good faith, I think itâs a tragic diminishment of our medium to insist that it shouldnât tackle politics. Cyberpunk 2077 might not push quite as many boundaries in game design as a landmark release could, but if it can convince more people that games can and should take a position on issues of substance rather than peddle mindless thrills, thatâll be a worthy legacy.â
Stay tuned for Den of Geekâs review of Cyberpunk 2077 next week!
The post Cyberpunk 2077 Review Roundup appeared first on Den of Geek.
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so I saw Thor: Ragnarok!
as always, spoilers under the cut as I give my initial thoughts.
SO
WOW
That was an awesome movie. I wouldnât rank it my number one, but definitely in top 5 I think. Ok, where to start, where to start...
The cinematography. Good stuff. I like what Taika Waititi brought to the table aesthetically. A real crowning moment for me was Valkyrieâs flashback - that was absolutely stunning, the best shot of the whole film to me. All I could see in my mind was AsgĂĽrdsreien, Odinâs Hunt. Truly beautiful. An interesting thing that stuck out to me also, neither good nor bad per se but, the lack of extreme closeups. Were there any, actually? That showed just part of the face? I suppose the Hulk had a few, maybe one for Thor summoning his powers. But the lighting in the film would have looked phenomenal on like, some silhouettes of Loki or Hela. I want the closeups man, give them to me.
The Plot. Lot to say here. So obviously, this is not the Ragnarok of legend. At all. While some of the key players were there (Baldr?? Where art thou?) and some of the principles remained, they really took it in a different direction. Iâm ambivalent on that. If they had stuck to the real apocalyptic Ragnarok, the comedy aspect they worked into the film would not have fit whatsoever. It would have been Winter Soldier, not Guardians of the Galaxy. Canât really have both. Because the real Ragnarok would have been extremely dark and sad and serious, with all our favs dying bloody, the world being destroyed, and probably a lot of slow-mo shots of Jormungandrâs gaping maw and dripping fangs descending upon the Aesir, etc etc. It would have been awesome ngl. But utterly out of place with that comedy. They went for a more lighthearted, less dire version of events - while the in-universe situation was dire for Thor and kin, I... didnât feel it emotionally. Not saying thatâs good or bad. There were no moments in the movie I felt real suspense, or that I shed any tears. There was no Loki dying in Thorâs arms, or Frigga getting stabbed, no startling turn of event situations that tugged at your heartstrings apart from a few mild melancholy Thor and Loki brother interactions. I suppose if you went into the film expecting those scenes, you may be a bit disappointed. A lighthearted apocalypse seems like something of a contradiction, and yet they pulled it off fairly well, and I think worked better if you dropped the context of real Norse myth Ragnarok or any Marvel comic Ragnarok and just experienced the film for what it was.Â
This whole atmosphere they went with is, Iâm sure, a response to the success of films like GOTG (colorful space comedy) vs Civil War or Ultron (gritty uber-serious graytone manpain). But even GOTG had scenes that were far more serious and emotional - I cried a hell of a lot during GOTG2 - despite also having scenes that were further on the funny/raunchy spectrum. They struck a perfect, surprising balance with GOTG that made you feel almost every emotion possible in the span of two hours - this Thor film tried to be more muted on either end. They really downplayed the lasting enmity between Thor and Loki, the fear and sorrow associated with the literal end of their world (esp by the common folk), and Odinâs death. Like, seriously, Thor or Loki didnât even mourn or cry at their fatherâs death? I would have liked to see some scenes of Thor trying to cope with that. Any scenes at all showing some emotional vulnerability or struggle, by any of the characters - Valkyrie was really the only one who got that.Â
Now, seriously, Iâm not saying I didnât enjoy the film - I did!! I really liked that they added some comedy to Thorâs character, because the last two Thor films didnât give him much character at all. This made him more charismatic and relatable. And I do love Loki in this. I am 1000% here for them being brothers and not focusing on them constantly at war with each other - what Thor said, about, at the end of the day, Iâm me and youâre you, is I think really the heart of it. Theyâre brothers, but theyâre fundamentally different, and thatâs ok. Loki will always be a trickster, heâll sometimes betray Thor, but thatâs just his role, and Thor doesnât have to hate him for it. So Iâm glad they had that relationship in this film, and Loki got a lot of great scenes. But yes, again Iâll say there wasnât much emotional turmoil by anyone in the film, likely because it was all focused on the big bad, the time for feelings is later, yadda yadda. But there is still a lot to work out, and I hope they eventually do.Â
Other notes -
 Is the Grandmaster the brother of the Collector? I feel like he is. Having him in the film gave off such a GOTG vibe, gosh.Â
SO THEY MADE HELA THEIR BROTHER INSTEAD OF LOKIâS DAUGHTER TO DODGE THAT BULLET LMAO
NO ROMANTIC SUBPLOTS, OH MY GOD, BLESS YOU
So much was changed from the trailers! Thor losing his eye was definitely not in the equivalent trailer scene from the Bifrost.Â
Some of the green screen was... not great, I feel. It was really obvious at times. A little surprised by that. Knowing that they changed an entire scene with Hela (from the city to the cliffside in Norway) made me wonder what was going on in the editors room that they made so many major changes and possibly had to redo the greenscreen vfx at the last minute?
THEY KILLED OFF VOLSTAG, HOGUN, AND FANDRAL JUST LIKE THAT, WHAT
The fact that Thor knew it was Loki disguised as Odin and just let it go on for that long..? And so few people were startled by it?
Idk a few reactions I thought were just not as grave or extreme as they realistically should have been.
Bruce, COME BACK TO US
Surturâs voice was weird tbh, they should have put some filter on it to make it sound like it was coming from a rock/fire being
I just want to say that I listened to Amon Amarthâs Surtur Rising before the film because how could I not
Hmmm thatâs all I can think of right now. Thoughts? Iâm assuming it was Thanosâs ship in the PCS there?Â
I did like the film a lot. Despite my complaining. Iâm just a perfectionist. Iâm not really settled in my mind of how I think they should have treated that plotline. Thereâs a lot of potential with something as big as Ragnarok, and they downplayed it as much as possible. It worked in its own way, but man, it could have been huge.Â
Overall? Maybe an A-?
#thor ragnarok#thor: ragnarok#thor ragnarok spoilers#thor spoilers#i've heard nothing but good things tho so
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Rules for Marathon Training
Don't Race Too usually In the Bible, gluttony is delineated together of the seven deadly sins. In running circles, race gluttony carries a similar fate. Once the season starts, take care to not race too usually. Most races ought to need some kind of a taper and recovery amount, and might so infringe on your coaching volume.
As your coaching volume (average of the previous six weeks' total volume) begins to fall, race performances can decline, because of AN geologic process aerobic base and loss of sport-specific feel.
This is quite common in athletes World Health Organization ar chasing that elusive state capital qualifying time. If the primary try at qualifying isn't roaring, it's a really common reaction to undertake once more, too soon, while not setting up a correct cycle of coaching. this can usually cause another uncomprehensible qualification try. this may produce AN infinite loop of too frequent sport, lack of coaching, inadequate recovery and uncomprehensible opportunities. this is often combined mentally with discouragement because of sub-par performances.
Never Train Through Races There are many reasons that we tend to don't suggest coaching through races. First, and foremost, going into a race already washed-out sets the mental groundwork for excuses even before the gun sounds. after you do not perform as you'd have likable, it's a lot of too straightforward to mention "Well, I used to be coaching through this one." this is often a nasty mental cycle of excuses to induce into. you must be one hundred pc able to go every single time that you just toe a start.
It would not kill most runners to require a touch additional recovery. Runners are infamous over-trainers. once was the last time that you just took a real recovery week? every week of purposely lower volume, with a few of planned off days. Taking many days of recovery, leading into your races is maybe one thing that you just would like, anyhow. coaching through a race merely pushes that recovery to another time.
Lastly, if going into a race forces you to juggle your run volume, you're far better off setting up the additional hours following the race, as critical cramming it within the day before. this permits for correct rest leading into the race, then a really sensible quality run on race day. Going into a race with a completely recovered peripheral system permits for far better stimulation of your core system. this can provide you with a stronger chance to push your limiters. this is often a far higher proposition than 2 mediocre running days. sport is difficult enough. Why sabotage it along with your training?
Know That there's No Magic You can look all you would like, however you will not realize it. Nothing has ever with success replaced sensible, quaint exertions. you will have the best coaching set up the globe has ever seen. you continue to need to execute it.
Each of the on top of aspects may be applied to any coaching set up that you just use. Taken piecemeal, their worth remains inherent, however, it is proscribed. Together, they will utterly amendment your life as a runner. These are the non-negotiables that ar the distinction between coaching with purpose and simply going out for a run.
Never Bonk I am certain that we've all fully-fledged it, at just once or another: cold sweats; bleary-eyes; slowed pace despite a high perceived elbow grease. A "bonk" happens once your muscles become depleted of polysaccharide. In essence, it's an amount of low glucose.
The physiological impact of bonking is simply too nice to permit it to happen. within the absence of muscle polysaccharide, the body really activates itself breaking down muscle to form polysaccharide through alternative suggests that. we tend to ne'er need to examine the breakdown of lean muscle mass, which is one in every one of the items that help U.S.A. stop injury.
Bonking may be avoided by refueling yourself properly throughout coaching. ne'er go out the door while not a minimum of 2 gels (or one bar)âmore than what you think is needed for your elbow grease. you must have a minimum of one-third of your weight in carbohydrates per hour.
Use a Recovery Drink A good recovery drink is usually unnoted, however, it will extremely act as a springboard towards obtaining the foremost from your coaching. higher recovery from one elbow grease can solely cause higher performances within the next.
There are no higher thanks to improving the physiological good thing about your elbow greases and improve your overall recovery than to refill muscle polysaccharide in real time following a workout. an honest recovery drink ought to be used following all workouts that are debilitating, like track repeats and long runs.
It is usually thought that an honest recovery drink is going to be high in supermolecule, so as to market muscle repair. whereas supermolecule may be an important element, it's really a lot of vital than the drink contain a high glycemic supermolecule like dextroglucose. If this high glycemic supermolecule maybe including AN simply eatable supermolecule, like whey, then you're extremely into one thing. the foremost effective recovery drinks can contain a 4:1 supermolecule to supermolecule quantitative relation. this can facilitate to refill muscle polysaccharide and start the muscle recovery method.
Lose the Loose Baggage If you were sporting a 10-pound backpack on the morning of your marathon, what would you be doing before the start? You'd take it off! a similar applies to excess weight. Of all the preparations you create, this can have the only largest impact on your race performance.
First, let Pine Tree State repeat the "excess" half as this solely applies to athletes carrying additional weight.
It will take years of consistent coaching to appreciate the enhancements that a 5-pound weight loss will turn out. the everyday aerobic improvement from year to year, presumptuous consistent coaching, is regarding seven seconds per mile. If you're carrying additional weight, every pound lost is value regarding 3 seconds per mile. Those additional 5 pounds that you just are carrying ar value regarding fifteen seconds/mile. Recognizing that sort of gain would commonly take over 2 years of coaching. So, lose nature's backpack and quick forward to your development.
Limit Intake of Grains and Refined Sugars Just because {you ar|you're} coaching for a marathon doesn't mean that you just are entitled to eat something that you just need. Grains and processed sugars ought to be avoided, unless you're ingestion them among AN hour of AN forthcoming elbow grease, throughout an elbow grease, or among a post-workout window that's equal length to the elbow grease itself.
This will facilitate to avoid gratuitous spikes in your glucose, which may cause the storage of body fat. additionally, this restricted intake of grains and sugars between workouts can leave many areas for a lot of nutrient-dense fruits, vegetables, and proteins.
Sleep a minimum of seven.5 Hours every Night This is most likely one in every of the foremost unnoted details by runners. Life is busy: Between work, family, friends, and coaching, something's gotta offer. however, it should not be sleep.
Think of sleep as AN integral a part of your coaching program. Physical coaching breaks you down. Rest and nutrition build you up. All of the coachings within the world are useless while not correct rest (and nutrition).
If the time that you just are devoting to running is routinely doing away with from your ability to induce seven.5 hours of sleep every night, and you're as time-efficient as attainable within the alternative areas of your life, then maybe you must devote less time to running. Sure, your volume is going to be lighter, however, your ability to soak up all aspects of your coaching is going to be that far better. A well-rested runner maybe a quick runner.
Race the gap that you just are prepared For Give yourself a comfortable time to coach for a marathon. If you are doing not have adequate coaching volume for your event, your performance can suffer considerably because of system failure. you furthermore may run the terribly robust risk of injury ANd/or an extreme quantity of needed recovery time following the race. Before sign language up, ensure your body is prepared to handle the mileage.
You should be able to hit a minimum of 2 thirds of your vital volume for your race distance. vital volume for a marathon is run within the 2 peak coaching weeks of your set up, which sometimes fall among six weeks of your race. For a marathon, vital volume ought to be around sixty miles. Therefore, you must be able to run sixty miles total, over the course of the period, at the height of your coaching. At a minimum, you must be able to run 2 thirds of this vital distanceâwhich is forty milesâduring the vital amount.
If you do not suppose you'll build this type of mileage between currently then, you must most likely opt for a distinct marathon, or check-in for a shorter race.
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Melvin Feller Looks at How You can Create Million Dollar Business Ideas
Melvin Feller Looks at How You can Create Million Dollar Business Ideas
 Melvin Feller Business Ministries Group in Burkburnett and Dallas Texas and Lawton Oklahoma. Our mission is to call and equip a generation of Christian entrepreneurs to do business as ministry. We provide workshops and resources that help companies discover how to do business Godâs way. When the heart of a business is service rather than self it can be transformed into a fruitful business ministry earning a profit and being of service to the community and their customers.  Melvin Feller is currently pursuing another graduate degree in business organizations.
 Big companies like Apple, super successful websites like Facebook, and bestselling books like The 4-Hour Workweek all have one thing in common:  They begin with a million dollar idea.
 The big question is how did their creators come up with these ideas?  Did they sit around waiting for an inspirational flash or a mystic spell of luck?
 The answer is spontaneity and luck had little to do with it.
In this discussion, we will take a brief look at several tried and true techniques that some of the brightest and most successful entrepreneurs have used to generate million dollar ideas. They then have go on to create jobs and incomes for several thousand people while helping to donate to various charities across the country.
Generate many ideas. â The more ideas you create, the more likely you are to create an idea worth a million bucks.
 Fail a lot. â All of the ideas that do not work are simply stepping-stones on your way to the one idea that does. Sometimes you have to fail a thousand times to succeed. No matter how many mistakes you make or how slow you progress, you are still way ahead of everyone who is not trying.
Consume information consciously. â Some of my friends think it is wasteful that I spend so much time reading books and blogs. It is not. It is what gives me an edge. I feel engulfed with new ideas and information. Moreover, I have actually used what I have learned to launch a few successful websites. When you read things and interact with people, take off your consumer cap and put on your creator cap. There are million dollar ideas (or at least some good ideas) all around you waiting for discovery.
 Focus on topics and ideas with large markets. â A million dollars is not a lot of money in the grand scheme of things, but it certainly is if you are trying to earn it in a small market with limited opportunities. Even if you put Steve Jobs in the role of CEO for a new venture with a maximum market size of 100 people, he would not make more than a few cents. âBig bucksâ result from high demand in a substantial market.
 Make sure thereâs money in your market. â Bank robbers rob banks because that is where the money is. Before you become emotionally attached to an idea, do a little market research. Make sure the idea you are pursuing is where the money is. Who are the clients and consumers? How much disposable income do they have? Etc.
Keep your eyes, ears and mind wide open. â Oftentimes one ideaâs failure will open a door to a new idea. Do not get so hung up on one failed attempt that you miss the opening for many more.
 Test variations of the same idea. â Think about the iPhone and the iPad for a second. One is just a variation of the other. Both are multi-million dollar ideas.
 Figure out what works well in one market and tailor it to another. â Find an idea that is already proven and think about how it could be applied in a different context. Take a formula that works in one niche and apply it to a new niche. Alternatively, take the best aspects of one product and combine it with another product.
Put the pieces together. â YouTubeâs creators did not invent Flash. They did not invent modern digital cameras that can record computer-ready mpeg video. In addition, they did not invent broadband Internet connections, cheap web hosting, embedded website content, or one-click website uploading technologies either. What they invented is a technology that takes all of these existing pieces and combines them into an online video sharing portal.
 Spin a new twist on a previous breakthrough. â A new twist on an old idea can still be a million dollar idea. Take Facebook for instance, it wasnât the first big social networking site, but Mark Zuckerberg and company added twists and features the others did not grasp. How can you take an existing million-dollar idea, or even a common idea, and give it a new twist, a new direction and journey?
 Systematize a popular service into a reproducible product. â A service is productized when its ownership can be exchanged. Think about Alienware  and Dell back in their infancy. Both companies simply systematized the service of building IBM compatible PCs and then sold them as a packaged product. If you can convert a high demand service into a scalable, systematized, efficient process and sell it as a packaged deal, the million appears.
Play with opposites. â When something becomes extremely popular, the opposite often also becomes popular as people turn away from mainstream. When WordPress , Blogger and Movable Type exploded in popularity by giving anyone with an Internet connection the ability to share long, detailed blog posts with the world, Twitter and Tumblr came along and started the micro-blogging revolution â for people grasping to share extremely short content snippets. There are hundreds of other examples. Just remember, the opposite of a million dollar idea can paradoxically give birth to another million-dollar idea.
Look for problems and solve them. â There are many real problems in this world. Like a business owner wondering why his profits are sinking. Like a golfer worrying about his slice. Like a young man who is growing bald at 26. Like a mom whose child is suffering with allergies. Like a new dog owner who is unsure what to do about her puppy barking all night. Solving problems like these can make millions.
 Design new products that support other successful products. â How much money do you think iPod, iPhone and iPad case manufacturers are making Millions Billions? What about companies that jumped into the market of manufacturing LCD and Plasma TV mounting brackets eight years ago? You get the idea.
 Keep it simple. â Donât over complicate a good idea. Business marketing studies have shown that the more product choices offered the less products consumers typically buy. After all, narrowing down the best product from a pool of three choices is certainly easier than narrowing down the best product from a pool of three hundred choices. If the purchasing decision is tough to make, most people will just give up. So if you are designing a product line, keep it simple. Â
Exploit the resources and skills you already have. â It is not as much about having the right resources as it is about exploiting your resources right now. Stevie Wonder could not see, so he exploited his sense of hearing into a passion for music, and he now has 25 Grammy Awards to prove it. If you pursue a new venture that involves leveraging your resources and skills, you are ahead of the game.
Surround yourself with other thinkers. â You are the sum of the people you spend the most time with. If you hang with the wrong people, they will affect you negatively. However, if you hang with the right people, you will be more capable and powerful than you ever could have been alone. Find your tribe and collaborate to make a difference in all your lives. Bounce ideas off each other, etc.
 Be enthusiastic about what youâre doing. â Enthusiasm is the lifeblood of creativity. Big ideas blossom when you are passionate and enthusiastic about what you are doing. It is nearly impossible to pioneer ground-breaking solutions in a domain where there is not passionate intensity. However, when your mind is stimulated by a fundamental curiosity and interest in the subject matter, your creativity will run rampant and your motivation will skyrocket.
 Accept constructive criticism, but ignore naysayers. â When someone spews negativity about your idea or product, remember, it does not matter how many people do not get it, it matters how many do. No matter how much progress you make there will always be the people who insist that whatever you are trying to do is impossible. Alternatively, they may jealously suggest that the idea or concept as a whole is utterly ridiculous because nobody really cares. When you come across these people, do not try to reason with them. Instead, forget that they exist. They will only waste your time and energy.
Actually, do something with your ideas! â A million-dollar idea is simply a good idea given the chance to grow. On paper, Google and Facebook sprung from ordinary ideas: âa search engine thatâs accurateâ and âa website where friends connect with each other.â Remember, neither of these companies were the first ones in their market. Their ideas were not groundbreaking at the time. Many people had the same ideas even before Google and Facebook existed. However, Google and Facebookâs creators did something with their ideas. They worked hard and gained an advantage over the competition. Their initial success was in their execution. Remember, it is not the ideas themselves that count; it is what you do with them. With the right execution, a simple idea can evolve into a million dollar idea.
Melvin Feller Business Consultants Ministries Group in Texas and Oklahoma. Melvin Feller founded Melvin Feller Business Consultants Group Ministries in the 1970s to help individuals and organizations achieve their specific Victory. Victory as defined by the individual or organization are achieving strategic objectives, exceeding goals, getting results or desired outcomes. He has extensive experience assisting businesses achieve top and bottom line results. He has broad practical experience creating WINNERS in many organizations and industries. He has hands-on experience in executive leadership, operations, logistics, sales, program management, organizational development, training, and customer service. He has coached teams to achieve results in strategic planning, business development, organizational design, sales, and customer response and business process improvement. He has prepared and presented many workshops nationally and internationally.
#small business#small business revenue#million#millionaire#millennials#million dollar ideas#million dollar business ideas#ideas to make a million dollars#making money#startup#starting a business#starting a business in Texas#how to start a business#melvin feller#melvin feller business ministries group#business Group of Melvin Feller#Melvin feller in texas#melvin feller in Oklahoma
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Dreemurr Academy #5 (UnderSwap Papyrus)
Dreemurr Academy, a prestigious closed-off college for monsters and humans alike of all ages and worlds.
This includes myself, though I'm sort of a in-between.
I'm Lynsie, the human anomaly. I'm a human, but I can do magic like monsters. I'm an oddball.
That's the thing about making a school that is open to multiple alternate dimensions. Weird things are bound to show up. Even a bunch of the same person. From what I saw on orientation day, the same faces are scattered around all around.
To fix these type of issues, everyone that has a multiple or doppelganger is given a school name so there's no confusion.
Other than that, it's fairly normal. The hierarchy is the simple.
The Deans are made up of the same people, skeleton monsters that go by the name of Gaster. One is a teacher of the Sciences, goes by Wingding. He's a kind and understanding man, but is known to pull a prank or two. They all speak in a typeface sign language but use telepathy magic so others understand. It's been said no one has ever heard their real voices and those that have are no longer at the academy.
Another Gaster dean teaches Home Economics, he goes by Wingy. He's a bubbly sweet guy that loves his work. Nothing makes him smile more than seeing the joy on a student's face when they take pride in being able to do something they first thought they couldn't.
Another Gaster dean teaches the studies of Magic, he is called Fall. At times, he can be cynical, malicious, and sarcastic. He has a commanding presence that exuded gravitas, authority and control, able to keep a class quiet without effort. Yet there is a kindness to him, it's rarely seen, but not unheard of.
Another Gaster dean teaches History, his nickname is Dings. A cold, bitter, and sometimes childish man. He tends to hold grudges against troublesome students and is extremely spiteful toward those whom he dislikes. Yet those that can take his punishments are rewarded with his respect. He is a teacher that commands respect and who's grades are earned with doom hanging over your head.
The Professors are also skeleton monsters, but not all are the same person. The Psychology professor is a guy named Papyrus but goes by Stretch. He's the favorite among students because he's so laid back. He chews a tooth pick in class to suppress his urge to smoke, but we all know he does so when on break. He's really good at reading students and helps out when able. All in all, he's the cool teacher.
The Literature professor is a Papyrus that is called Fell. He is the one teacher everyone dreads. Very strict and old fashioned. He does not tolerate interruptions and will humiliate those he feel need to be taken down a notch. Such things take there toll on him and often squeezes a stress ball that he keeps in his desk. But he is a very passionate man when it comes to his work and takes his subject seriously, even though this makes him into a bit of a grammar nazi which is why many students get low grades.
The Biology professor is a skeleton called Sans that sometimes goes by Classic, whatever that means. He is very cheesy and comes off as lazy, making puns that have people cringe yet secretly love them. He is very protective of his students and will go out of his way to help them. He does not tolerate bulling of any kind and can be quite scary. He's the second favorite among the students.
The Physical Education professor is also a Sans that goes by Pain. He is also a stern and old school type of teacher, only he tends to be more cruel in humiliation of students that are unprepared. While his scope is all around, he prefers the darker side of the study. Using borderline violence to weed out the weak that think taking his class is a easy A. There is mercy in his dojo, but it must be earned with blood, sweat, and tears.
The Students are broken into four groups based on which part of the four years they are currently in. The first years are called freshmen. Second years are sophomores. Third years are juniors. And fourth years are seniors. There are some variations on this topic, but this hierarchy of college students is still readily recognizable by everyone.
Me? This isn't my first rodeo but not my last. I'm a sophomore and have gotten the gist of who's who and what's what. I get along with students and teachers. I've always been a middle ground type of girl.
I didn't come looking for friends, but they just seemed to find me. Funny enough, my buddies are the brothers of the professors. Stretch's brother is a freshman, his name is Sans but goes by Rascal. Fell's brother, also a Sans, is a sophomore like me and goes by Edgy. Classic's brother is a Papyrus, a freshman that goes by Papy. And Pain's brother is a sophomore Papyrus by the name of Slim.
I've always been a tomboy. I prefer the guys company. They're different and fun, even if they can be a bit odd sometimes.
Rascal, as the nickname implies, is the school clown/prankster. He likes to test his limits and challenge authority, even dishevels his uniform to assert his individuality. He comes off as a slacker, but secretly very deep, clever, and loyal to a fault. He likes taking his brother's class so he can improve his skills with messing with people, mostly his brother as he disrupts his teachings when he sees a chance.
Edgy is shy around new people and slow to open up, enjoying a laugh with friends when able. Though he appears weak or even nerdy because of his glasses, he is far more tougher than he leads on. He doesn't take crap from anyone. When alone, he's angsty and borders on straight up angry. Getting a pissy attitude when annoyed. Like his brother, he is very passionate about literature and does his best to impress his brother, going so far as to become the teacher's pet.
Papy is easily the most loveable guy in the whole school. Very cheerful and optimistic, he tries his best no matter what. He doesn't like conflict and tries to keep his brother out of trouble when the teacher pulls a prank. I find it sweet of him to take his brother's class even though he doesn't particularly enjoy it, just so he can stay close to him. Like I said, this guy is a loveable soul.
Slim is easy going. He doesn't take things too seriously and never breaks a sweat over hard exams. The only thing that breaks his cool is his smoking, he really gets tense if he goes too long without his fix. He's incredibly smart and instinctual, good traits to have when dealing with his brother. While he does attend his brother's class, he merely does so as a request of his brother who likes to make sure he doesn't slack off due to not being challenged enough.
All of them are oddly related to each other in some form. Gaster's, Papyrus's, and Sans's are brothers. Yet I see them all as different people. I value them. They're helping me even if they don't know it. I am not so confident in myself. I tend to isolate myself, go at things lone wolf style. It's how I've always been. Then I met them and slowly my world began to expand bit by bit. I'm still not comfortable with others. But with them, I can step out from behind my mask for a bit, and really be myself around them.
Today is a typical day. Classes have so far been good. Again, knowing how to get by and being ready for them helps big time. This being one of those classes. Psychology is crazy complex yet once you get the hang of it, it becomes easy to understand, though there are so many different aspects to learn in it.
In all there is Health Psychology, Psychology of Interpersonal Relations, Mind and Behavior, Social and Personality Development, Psychology of Learning, Visual Perception and Cognition, The Aging Mind and Brain, Cognition and the Brain, Language Development, Psychology of Workplace Behaviors, Psychology of Relationship Violence, Animal Cognition, Behavioral Neuroscience, Psychopharmacology, Motivation-Addiction-and the Brain, Neuroscience of Learning and Memory, Neurobiology of Stress, Introduction to Health Biopsychology, Abnormal Psychology, Childhood Psychopathology, Behavior Modification, Psychotherapies, Cognitive Development of Children, Infant Development, Personality, Attitude Change, Psychology of Gender, Social Cognition, Judgment and Decision Making, Stigma and Prejudice, Psychology of Negotiation, Human Memory, Psychology of Thinking, Human Information Processing, and lastly Language Processes.
All of these help to further understand ourselves and each other. For to know the workings of the world's mind, one must come to know one's self. And if such a journey you wish to make, then look no further than to have Professor Stretch be your guide to the wide and weird world of the mind's many endless roads. The guy is utterly amazing.
"it's about honor. do you have it? how do you define honor? honor is day by day, minute by minute. if you have it, you live it, without question. honor is not doing what is easy if it hurts a single soul. do your daily actions reflect good values? are you honest with everyone, even yourself? are you kind and helpful? do you show respect to everyone? for example, do you clean up after yourself in the lunchroom? and my friends...they all have a couple of things in common: none of them are whiners. all of them are funny. none of them are pc; and all of them, every last one, owns their mistakes. they own their lives. they own their actions. that is honor. do you really own your mistakes and your lives?"
God he's mesmerizing to listen to. His voice is so smooth despite his smoking habit. Even his body's movements flow with grace and adds emphasis to his words. You can really tell he means what he says.
"our society does not simply look at the 'hey stupid, the coffee is hot' signs that are located on any lid of coffee that you buy or the supersize me case 'my kids are fat because of mcdonalds'. try to do good. try to love the world even when it does not love you. the question is how will you react when you have done bad things? ...will you stand up and say, i'm a man and i own this mess?"
I nod to myself and a note is slid my way. I look to my side, Rascal, Stretch's little brother and my good buddy. I wonder what it says.
[DO YOU NEED A TOWEL?]
I write back "Why?" and pass it back. Then he slides it back to me.
[TO WIPE UP ALL THE DROOL YOU'RE MAKING OVER MY BRO.]
I roll my eyes at him and give him back the slip after writing "Ha-ha, you're so funny. You should do stand-up.".
"there's only two things the world can't take from you. your friendship and your honor. anything worthwhile must be protected and nurtured. these two things you have...honor and friends...are, believe it or not, all you need. they are everything. donât make excuses, make optimism. i would like you to take some time and really reflect on that for a moment."
I slowly shut my eyes in thought, contemplating his words and letting my mind wander with ideas. Rascal, using this break to his advantage, decides to have some fun. While Stretch is distracted looking for his pack of candy cigarettes or his trusty toothpick in his messy desk, Rascal leans over and starts whispering in my ear.
"YOU KNOW, YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND A LOT LATELY."
"What are you talking about, Rascal?"
"RASCAL? NO...IT'S ME, PROFESSOR STRETCH."
"I take it this is your game for the day."
"YOU LOOK REALLY CUTE TODAY? *sniff* IS THAT VANILLA I SMELL?"
"Okay, you're starting to border on the creepy line there."
"YOU KNOW, VANILLA IS CONSIDERED A NATURAL APHRODISIAC. AND SINCE KNOWING YOU, YOU'VE NEVER WORE THAT SCENT BEFORE. NOW FOR WHAT REASON WOULD YOU WEAR THAT SCENT? UNLESS...YOU WERE TRYING TO CAPTIVATE SOMEONE'S ATTENTION WITH SWEET ALLURE."
To that I crack an eye open and look at him.
"Can I not try a new shampoo without being thought of as a tempting succubus?"
He merely smirks.
"A RATHER INTERESTING CHOICE OF WORDS. BUT YES. I DARE SAY YOU ARE ATTEMPTING TO WOO SOMEONE. AND I THINK IT'S ME."
"As cute as you are, I see you as my friend Rascal."
He blushes but pouts.
"I TOLD YOU, I'M NOT RASCAL. I'M STRETCH."
"I know you study this subject so you can be better at manipulating others for your amusement. So if your intention is to prank me by having me 'confess' my 'feelings' for your brother, well...That's just cruel."
"*sighs* LOOK, I'M NOT TRYING TO BE MEAN. I'M JUST TRYING TO..."
Stretch clears his throat, toothpick in his teeth, and signals that the thinking break is now over.
"as i was saying...it is about honor. do you have it? honor is not the late mother theresa in calcutta. thatâs beyond honor; thatâs sainthood. honor is not an impossible ideal, something beyond your grasp. honor is day to day, minute by minute. if you have it, you live it, without question. honor is not doing whatâs easy if it hurts a single soul."
So very true. I could listen to him for hours. He speaks with experience, like this all knowing sage, yet doesn't come off as condescending or entitled. He only wants to share what he knows so that others can do better. His faith in others is inspiring.
"honor has no room in its house for cynicism. skepticism, yes. always. but cynicism? no. it has no room in its house for greed, for the mindless pursuit of money or hollow success. honor is the affirmative answer to one simple question you ask of yourself every day: did i behave with dignity and respect toward all living things? that is the measure of honor and the measure of men. if you are cynical, you will say, i wasnât honorable today because the world was dishonorable toward me and i just had to fight back. sorry, charlie. wrong answer. the measure of a man lies not in what the world does to him, but rather in how he comports himself within the world. when someone says, oh-so cynically, oh-so-jaded: the world is thus, you must reply: no. thus, have we made the world."
Another note from Rascal is slid my way and I sigh inwardly at the thought of reading it.
[I'M SORRY. BUT I'M NOT TRYING TO BE A JERK. I'M JUST TRYING TO TELL YOU SOMETHING THAT IS HARD FOR ME TO SAY.]
I write back "What? You know you can tell me anything. It's what friends are for." and pass it back. He takes a moment before writing, a look on his face that I can only guess is uncertainty as I've never seen him like that, then he slowly slides it to me and I'm nervous to read it.
[HE LIKES YOU TOO.]
I'm not sure how to respond to this. Either he's being honest or being bull. I can't find words to write.
"i gave you the bad news first so you can create the good news for yourselves. well, iâve got friends. if wealth is measured by friends, then iâm richer than bill gates. and, as i said at the outset, two of my closest friends in the world i met right here, freshman year. and my friends, a wide-ranging army of people from all walks of life, some human, some monster, some conservative, some liberal, some wealthy, some not, some black, some white, some catholic, some jewish, some presbyterian, some gay, some straight, some downright out of their minds, and some with questionable fashion sense. my friends are a very varied lot. but they all have a couple of things in common: none of them are whiners, because i can't handle hanging out with whiners; all of them are funny, because lifeâs too short not to be able to tell good jokes; none of them are pc; and all of them, every last one, owns their mistakes. they own their lives. they donât place blame for their actions at any place but on their own doorsteps. they own their actions."
I try to focus on Stretch's words but Rascal keeps giving me notes.
[HE MUTTERS YOUR NAME A LOT WHEN IN DEEP THOUGHT OR SLEEP.]
I write back "So what?" and pass it back. He passes another one.
[HE THINKS OF YOU IN THE SHOWER TOO. VERY AWKWARD.]
This makes my eyes twitch and I write back "This isn't funny anymore." then slide it back.
"that is honor. own yours. go out into that messed-up world and try to make it better for your sons and daughters. yes. make money if you can. pursue your own happiness. yes, yes. but try, too, please try to do good. to empathize with and help those people who werenât lucky enough to go to a private prep school, have caring parents, come from homes with food on the table and plenty of oil in the furnace. try to love the world even when it doesn't love you. realize that you will fail, you will make mistakes, you will feel pain and you will cause pain and you will do bad things. the question isnât whether you will do bad things, the question is how will you react once youâve done those bad things? will you leave the mess for someone else to clean up; will you place blame? or will you stand up and say, iâm a man. i own this mess. i will not hide behind lawyers. or press agents. or lies. i do not need lies. i do not need an image. i do not need false crap. i need my friends. i need my honor. because thereâs only two things the world canât take from you. your friendships and your honor. those youâve got to give away...and those, i will bet you good money, you have right now."
Another note slips by me.
[PLEASE TALK TO HIM. I KNOW THIS IS WEIRD. BUT IT'S WEIRDER LIVING WITH HIM WHEN I HEAR AND SEE HIM WANTING YOU.]
I write back "Stop it. Just stop." and pass it back.
"the honor you hold right inside of yourself, because youâre young, and you havenât had too many chances to screw up yet or sell out. and you have friends. some of your best may be sitting right beside you, right now. some may have just finished teaching you for four years. some, believe it or not, may be your parents, your sisters, your brothers. some you havenât met yet, but you will, you will. anything worthwhile must be protected and nurtured. these two things you have...honor and friends...are, believe it or not, all you need. theyâre everything. theyâre sacred. and, like anything sacred, the world will go after them and try to separate you from them. you cannot let it take them. because when theyâre gone, they donât come back. like your tenth birthday or first love. once itâs gone, itâs gone. try not to regret it if you can."
That last line makes me feel really weird. Even more so when I notice the eye contact coming from Stretch, making me blush and Rascal nudges me with a 'Do you see it now' look. I am so confused.
"look around at your friends, at your family. right now. and then look inside, as only you can, at your honor. your soul. it is what makes you an individual. it is what makes you, in essence, you. the one thing that separates you from anyone else. are you going to give that up? go with honor into this world, my students. donât make excuses, make optimism. donât make a day a little worse for your having been here, make it a little better. protect your dignity and your grace and your honor and your friends and your family the way lesser men protect their money and their image and their crumbling structures."
There's that experience again, it makes me curious as to what happened to him. But why? Why am I so pulled to him? Why do I care? Damn it Rascal! What mind trickery have you done to me?! I care!
"i truly hope all of you will get what you want. i hope you live up to the measure of your dreams. i wish you great health and financial independence and a jacuzzi. sure, why not? heheheh...but if you don't get those things, you are not poor, you are not a failure, you are not a lesser person. as long as you have youâre honor, your souls, your friends."
The bell rings.
"*sigh* well that's my time. go enjoy one of the great days of your life."
Everyone starts to leave, but I can't make myself move from my seat. Rascal touches my shoulder.
"PROMISE ME...YOU'LL THINK ABOUT IT. PLEASE?"
All I can do is nod before dropping my head to the table and leaving it there.
"GREAT. THANKS LYNSIE. AND DON'T WORRY, I BELIEVE IN YOU!"
I groan as he leaves and stay put, hoping I'll fade away so I can forget everything I've come to learned.
"uh...the bell rang, lynsie. it means school ended for the day."
"*muffled* I know."
"okay...um...you okay?"
"*muffled* I don't know anymore."
I hear approaching footsteps.
"alright lynsie, what's up? everything at home okay?"
"*muffled* Yeah."
"personal life doing fine?"
"*muffled* Yeah."
"you sick?"
"*muffled* No."
"bad romance?"
"*muffled* Good song, but no. My love life is about as real as bigfoot."
"cute...then what's the matter? 'cause i can't think of anything else. actually, scratch that, i can. did my bro do something to you?"
"*muffled* Which one?"
"sans. did sans mess with you?"
I say nothing and he leans beside me.
"come on. what did he do this time?"
Again I say nothing.
"let me guess. he glued you to your seat?"
"*muffled* No."
"did he pass your phone number around school?"
"*muffled* No."
"did he take up-skirt pics of you...again?"
I sigh and sit up.
"No. He hasn't done that in while now. But that's why I don't really care for the uniforms. I hate skirts."
"then what has he done?"
I look away.
"lynsie, you know you're going to tell me eventually. i'm the psych proff. i know countless ways to get you to talk."
"And you've taught us countless ways to counter said things."
He smirks.
"do i sense a challenge?"
"If you want to play, teach, than bring your A-game. Because these lips are sealed."
"okay, game on."
It's funny how he gets excited like this, he doesn't do it often, but it is cute. Damn it, stop that, I need to focus!
"let me just put this out there before we start...you don't really have to tell me. this is all for fun."
Wow, is he really setting up for reverse psychology? That's the most simple and basic thing. Maybe he thinks I won't see it coming because it's so basic. Or maybe that's what he wants me to think. Best see how this goes and set up to counter when needed.
"Fine."
"so...sans did or said something to you, but you don't want to say what it was...probably wasn't anything to do with something personal. i mean, why would that mess with you? you got friends and one of the best grade point average in school. things gotta be coming up roses for you there."
Got to keep calm and display no emotion. Facial signs and emotions can give away too much information.
"Life has been kind as of late. I study hard. Having random insomnia helps in that department. But what about you? How has the ball been rolling in your court this year?"
A reversal of reverse psychology is simple. Just do reverse psychology to the one trying to do it to you, but do it better. He just smiles.
"been alright. a little slow sometimes."
"How so?"
"eh, just in general really. been thinking i should try to put myself out there. *plays with his toothpick* i haven't been on a date in years."
"Years huh? I can top that. I've never had one."
He looks at me surprised.
"for real?"
"Yep."
"i call bull."
"Hand to god. Never been out on a date."
"why?"
"No one's ever asked. Kinda hard to date someone when they aren't real, you know?"
"not even your imaginary friends?"
"*chuckles* Very funny Stretch."
I get up and hop over the table, sitting on it. He follows suit and sits beside me.
"But yeah. I could fill a book with a list of 'never done' stuff I never did. Things most people my age have done long ago, I can not say I did."
"so...you've never been kissed?"
"Heh, jumping right to it huh?"
"just curious. by the way...*sniff* you smell nice."
"Heh...thanks. Rascal noticed too. *blush* But I kissed a boy once when I was really young. But it was a kid kiss. No real feelings in it, even though he did like me. I think I just liked that he liked me and felt I had to kiss him because it was expected."
"social pressure?"
"Nope. Just what I thought I had to do."
"what made you think that?"
"Fuck if I know. I just did. Kinda like how I knew what death was even though no one ever told me. Saw my kitten unmoving, not breathing, it was just...so very still. Yet I remember going to my grandma and crying that the kitten was dead. I was five. How the hell did I know it was dead?!"
"instinct maybe. from watching you, you seem to grasp things fairly easily. i can almost see the gears turn in your head when i look in your eyes."
"Why would you need to look in my eyes that deeply?"
His relaxed posture faintly stiffens and I inwardly smirk, I caught him.
"making eye contact with others is a sign of confidence, respect, and social communication. studies also suggest that eye contact has a positive impact on the retention and recall of information and may promote more efficient learning."
Well played, trying to avoid seemingly noticeable awkwardness with facts. My turn.
"True, but only half true. It all depends on the person. Some might be fine with it, while others could take it as insulting. Eye contact can also be a significant factor in interactions between human and non-human animals, even monsters. Many species often perceive eye contact as a threat. But on the other hand...Eye contact can also be seen as intimate and sexual."
That causes some light color to dust his cheekbones.
"heh...this has kinda gotten off on a weird track."
"Not really. We're still on the subject you've been trying to prob me for."
"i am not trying to prob you."
"Not without your spaceship you aren't."
He chuckles and I look at his toothpick. I kind of want it. Just to chew on for a bit. Not sure where this urge is coming from, but it's normal for me. I tend to chew on any stick food comes with, like lollipop or popsicle sticks. I don't know why, I just do.
"wait...we've been on a topic this whole time?"
"Want a clue?"
"maybe."
"I want something first."
"and what's that?"
I point to his toothpick and he blushes more.
"you want that?"
I nod.
"um...i-i guess that's fine."
I reach over as he leans in and I snicker much to his confusion before taking the toothpick.
"Well...I guess he was telling the truth after all."
I put the toothpick in my mouth and he is confused.
"uh...what just happened?"
"Just confirming what your brother told me."
"and what was that?"
"He wanted me to talk to you about you having feelings for me."
And just like that, his calm demeanor breaks.
"w-what? i don't have feelings for you. that would be crazy."
"Yeah, that's what I thought too. But you give yourself away. And Rascal said some pretty interesting things that made him uncomfortable, so I doubt he'd make that type of stuff up just to mess with us."
"*sighs* what did he say?"
"You mutter my name in deep thought and sleep. Oh! And you think about me in the shower."
I blush a bit and he covers his face with his hands.
"for fuck's sake sans...*groan* fine...i admit it. i do have a thing for you."
And just like that, he breaks my emotionless cover.
"...C-can I ask why?"
He rubs the back of his skull.
"it's a little hard to explain. you...how do i put this? ...you just...okay. you know how magnets are drawn to each other? it's sorta like that."
I tilt my head confused.
"You feel pulled to me?"
"i know, this sounds totally weird and stupid. but i'm being honest here. aside from sans, i notice you before any other student. it's like there's this aura surrounding you and i can't keep from staring. and if i stare too long, i start feeling things."
"What kind of things? Like the make your pants feel tighter type of feelings?"
"you know you don't have to makes this harder than it already is."
"That's what she said."
He snickers and I put my hand on his shoulder.
"I'm not trying to make this more difficult for you. I'm just using comedy to circumvent my own awkwardness about this."
This has his attention.
"i take it you have your own feelings about this too?"
"That...That's the part I'm unsure of."
"...but you do feel something?"
I lean back on my hands and look up.
"I might."
To this he just stares at me and I try to avoid looking at him, I don't think I can with a straight face. I end up flinching when his hand touches mine.
"it's okay, just relax. i'm just testing the waters here..."
He holds my hand, his thumb rubbing tender circles on the back of my hand and wrist.
"i won't do anything to you that you aren't okay with."
I blush and slowly look back down to the floor, I still can't look at him yet.
"is this okay? you aren't uncomfortable, are you?"
"It's fine."
His hand moves up, rubbing my arm up and down.
"why won't you look at me?"
"Processing my feelings won't let me. Not yet."
"would it be alright if i...kept going?"
"Sure."
At this point he's reading my body language to judge things. His hand works it's way further up my arm to my shoulder, once there he rubs along my shoulder and neck, making me relax with a purr.
"that feel good?"
"Mmmhmmm."
He scoots closer, now using both hands to massage me. His hands are so skillful in their touches, I can't help but to lean into him and melt in content.
"You have such skilled hands."
"you feel warmer. you really must be enjoying this."
"So are you."
"true. but i'd have more fun if you were closer."
Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulls me to his chest and I look at him with a smile.
"you're looking at me."
"I am."
"and what do you see?"
"A set of adora-bones."
We both laugh and I decide to be a little bold. I turn around in his hold and nuzzle small kisses into his neck, earning some surprised shudders from him.
"mmmmmm...that's nice...*purrs* you can uh...press a little harder, if you want. i-i promise i won't break, haha."
He blushes lightly and I smile kindly.
"Only if you do something for me."
"oh? and what would that be?"
"Well...Could you maybe...keep touching me?"
There's a look of shock that comes with a deeper blush and slowly morphs into a cool and relaxed chill.
"well if you really want me to. heh...how can i refuse~?"
Placing his hands on my waist, he kneads into my sides with a attentive touch and it has me cooing. This pleasant sensation has me trailing tender kisses along his neck and up his jawline, making him shiver with growing heat. He cups my face in one hand and leans in. Thinking of a kiss, I close my eyes, only to open them in shock as his tongue licks my lips and steals the toothpick away with a grin.
"Why do that?"
"heh...it was in the way."
He slips it into his pants pocket before pulling me into a light kiss, just a test, then it becomes much stronger and heated. His hands hold me close as mine begin to explore him, getting a feel for the bones hidden underneath his clothes.
"mmmm...getting a little bold don't you think?"
"Do you want me to stop?"
"no...go lower."
"Like this~?"
I feel along his hip and his breathing hitches.
"yeah...just like that."
"Want more~?"
"yeah~."
I slip my fingers to feel the bare bone under his pants hemline and his grip tightens with a hard shudder.
"wait, wait, stop! just stop for a second."
I freeze up all nervous.
"What's wrong?"
"i need to know...are we really doing this?"
"I'm not a hologram and you're not a dream if that's what you mean."
"no, i mean...*deep breath* would you really...be with me...in a...you know what i mean sorta way."
"Oh. Oh! *nervous laugh* Um...I'd be lying if I didn't say the idea came to me a few times."
"r-really?"
"*flustered* D-don't make it sound like that, mister shower fantasy guy."
"heh...yeah...about those fantasies..."
He has me sit back as he undoes his pants, a large honey orange magic member pops out and I burn with a vibrant red blush.
"maybe this can help us both with our oral fixation."
I snicker and test touch him. Lightly tracing my fingers on it, watching his face contort as the sensation of pleasure begins hitting him. Cautiously he puts a hand behind my head and gently pulls me down to his length, stopping with my lips mere inches from the tip. I look up at him and then at the glowing erection then back at him again before slowly letting my tongue touch him, getting a taste...like honey. I begin to lick him like a popsicle and he leans back on one arm while the other hand is petting me.
"ooooh...yeah...mmmm...that feels good...now try your mouth..."
"Getting eager just bit huh?"
"you have no idea how long i've wanted to have this happen."
"Awww...Then I'll be nice and grant your long waiting wish."
I drag my tongue from the base slowly up to his tip and swirl my tongue around the head before giving it a kiss, making him swoon with a low groan.
"lynsie...please...stop teasing me..."
"Sorry. Just...mentally preparing for this. Heh...I've never done this before. Any of this stuff."
"you mean you're a...*bites his tongue with a lustful grin* hmmm...so i-i'm your first?"
"Yep."
"*deep shudder* god i want you..."
"*snicker* Down boy. The fun has only just begun."
Giving his tip a kiss I slowly engulf his length in my mouth, making his jaw drop and a moan escape.
"ffffuck...mmmmmm...your mouth is so hot and moist..."
"*gasp* Sorry. My mouth waters when full."
"d-didn't say that was a bad thing. um...can you...?"
"Oh! My bad."
I return to pleasing him and he lulls his head back with a contented sigh.
"god...worth it...this was so worth the wait...ooooh...yeah...just like that..."
I can't help but snicker on him as I begin to bob my head up and down on him. The sounds that he makes, the fact I'm the cause of all of them, I can't deny that it's turning me on, and the more it does the more he can tell by the increased amount of attention I give him. And when I look up and meet his gaze he twitches hard in my mouth.
"oh shhhhit lynsie...you ca-aahh...you can't be real...this is too good to-oooooh...*breath hitches* to be true..."
I suppress the urge to smile as I hear an incredibly low moan sound from the depths of his throat, and a deeply-seated rumble sizzling through his bones as I hold on to his hips. His hands suddenly run through my hair, the smooth structure of his bones feels like bliss amongst the mess of hair follicles, and I pace a little faster alongside the heavy beat of his breathing heavily echoing in the classroom.
It acts as the perfect guide as I feel his shudders coarse against me and I know he's being pushed to the absolute edge of insanity as he's simply dissolved in pleasure. I attempt to go down on him as far as I can, feeling the head swell in my throat and his grip on my hair tightens hard. This incredibly raw feeling burns through me as I hear him garble a moan pass his shaken smile and he pulls me off him with a wet pop.
"*gasp* Stretch? You okay?"
"*dry swallow* i was close...nearly lost it...you would've been tasting more of me than you probably want."
"Oh. Heh...I was doing that good?"
"that would be a vast understatement. but i couldn't help but think to myself...i'm being a bit selfish."
He trails a hand to between my legs and with two fingers, he rubs into a now sensitive wet spot on my panties that has me almost curl on top of him which makes him smile.
"whoa, i got you. wow...you've been enjoying this more than i thought."
"Please don't mock me right now."
"oh i'm not. heh, i just didn't think you were the type to have a kink like this."
"W-what?"
"you have a teacher fetish~. either that or you like that i have a position of power over you."
I quiver and lean over him more.
"H-how about you?"
"hmmm?"
"You clearly...*shudder* have a student fetish. N-naughty naughty."
"says the girl getting off on it."
"Like you aren't? *coos*"
"true. but right now...this is about you."
He makes a fist and grinds his knuckles against me, making my jaw slack with a low groan. He does this for a bit, letting me ride his hand before he steps things up to the next level. Unclenching his fist, his fingers move over my skin as he edges towards the hem of my panties. Hooking his fingers over the material, and almost immediately, my voice is lost at the feel the blunt ends of his fingers touching me, tracing confidently and achingly slow over my sensitive lower lips.
Everything around me is intensely hot as I feel the shuddering spells of ecstasy rip through my form. I feel alive, as if connected to this world by the sensual rhythm of his fingers moving circles around my sex. And he can see it clearly in my eyes as they roll back in overwhelming pleasure. Every part of me comes to life as I shiver to his touch, and it's all the more fierce and powerful than I ever imagined it to be. I've given myself away to him entirely as I move my hips along to the gradual movements of his fingers.
"how does it feel? to have me do this to you? to have you melting in the literal palm of my hand and i haven't even really touched you yet?"
"Mmmmm...Stretch..."
"ah ah ah, you didn't say the magic word. use my real name. tell me what you want."
"Oooh...P-papyrus..."
"yes?"
"Please..."
"please what?"
"I need you!"
That came out more bluntly than intended, I'm embarrassed as hell and he's frozen on the spot with a deep honey blush. I open my mouth to apologize but he renders me speechless with a yank forward and a deeply heated kiss while moving my lower half into position over him. Once my brain puts two and two together, I feel the bump of his member's head at my entrance as he's lowered me down to him.
"say it again...tell me you want me."
"Papyrus..."
"yes?"
"Who is on top?"
"huh?"
"And who is in the power position?"
"uh..."
"I do want you...But I set the pace. After all, I'm the one that's gonna be ripped a new one by that behemoth."
"...fair enough, you sexy temptress."
I take a couple shaky breathes before pressing down on him and he pops inside. While his fingering of me helped some of the way to prepare me for this, I wince and take my time inching him in till we're connected fully to the hilt.
"Shhhit..."
"mmmmmm...just relax...there's no rush here...*soft purr* you feel amazing by the way."
"T-thanks. *giggles* That helps actually."
"in that case...let me help you some more."
He leans up into my neck, peppering me with kisses before giving my neck a lick, then nips, and then bites, each action gets to me. Such attention, such care, such sweetness, it's so good. A warmth begins building deep in my core and it cries out for attention, setting my skin on fire as my eyes widen in surprise at the subconscious instinct that has my hips moving on him. All pain from before is gone and my eyes flutter in delight.
"Oh...ohh...ohhhh..."
"yeah...that's my girl...oooooh...ride me...ride me like there's no tomorrow..."
"God...You sound so fucking hot right now..."
Every small thrust, every tiny jab he makes within me is met with a powerful response deep in my core. His hands grab a tight hold of my thighs and I stifle the urge to scream as the head of his member suddenly hits a bundle of nerves deep within me.
"O-Oh fuck...Papyrus..."
"yes, yes, oh fuck lynsie...don't stop..."
My thrusts gradually speed up, faster and faster, filling me more and more as I feel his length graze the sensitive nerves within my core. I've never experienced something as powerful as this and he's pushed near his edge, losing all sense of himself in me as his tongue hangs carelessly out his mouth.
"Pap...I'm close Papyrus..."
"aahh...cum with me, beautiful girl..."
I grasp a tight hold of him, my sharp gasps synchronize with his random harsh bucks, and in between the delicious rhythm of his movements, I try my best to make sense of any spiraling thoughts I have to be about him. We're almost completely gone. We can feel the climax coming, reaching to its absolute limits, and Stretch feels the pulsating urge to release himself.
Slowly, he cups my face in the palm of his hand as he forces me to look directly at him. In his sockets, there is unfathomable desire. In his eyes, there's a passion to love me as tenderly as possible. I can feel it in his affectionate hands, holding me like I were porcelain. And the feeling of being wanted by him finally tips me over the edge.
"Aaah...aaahh...Paah...Papyrus...!"
"ooooohh...lynsie! aaaahh...!"
He relentlessly fills me up as I feel our climax quivering tortuously over into each other. I feel like waves of the water is crashing against the both of us, but really what I feel is wetness between my legs, liquid warmth running down over his member and slowly melting paths down my thighs., until we both stiffen and give in to the intensive release of our orgasms.
"*shudders* W-whoa..."
"*panting* that...was intense..."
"THAT WAS FUCKING HOT!"
We freeze and look over at the classroom door, there Rascal stands with his phone out and grinning big time.
"s-sans?"
"How long have you...?"
"SINCE YOU TWO STARTED FEELING EACH OTHER UP. YOU KNOW, WHEN I SAID YOU BOTH NEEDED TO TALK, THIS WAS NOT WHAT I THOUGHT WOULD HAPPEN. BUT, I'M GLAD YOU BOTH FINALLY CAME OUT OF YOUR DENIAL CLOSETS. AND I'M HAPPY TO SAY I CAPTURED YOUR FIRST TIME ON VIDEO."
We just look at him, I know I want to slap the shit out of him and by the twitching in Stretch's eye he feels the same way. In the silence of that moment, we make a mental deal to get back at him, but for now we just take in the feels of the moment and look forward to what's to come from this new love life.
#undertale#underfell#underswap#fellswap#dreemurr academy#underversity#sans#papyrus#gaster#buttercupsticksnlicks
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Liminal Sprite
Okay, Iâm warning you up top: This post is gonna go some weird places. Â And itâs as pretentious and bloated as a Harvard admissions officer. Â So if you keep reading, remember I gave you a chance to bail before I became utterly insufferable. Â
We cool?  Okay, here goesâŚ
Guys. Â Guys. Â GUYS. Â You have no idea how excited I am for the liminal sprite.
My paper for my collegeâs famously hard Religion 101 midterm? Â It was on liminality. Â The reason I spend Labor Day and New Yearâs playing board games? Â I made a lifelong friend tutoring a frosh on her liminality paper. Â My favorite school mascot? Â The Liminal State Bobcats.
So yeah, this is my kind of monster. Â Add to that the fact that itâs a fey with a killer backstory, great art, and a low CR, and this just all adds up to âSqueeeee!â territory for me.
Bestiary 5 gives us plenty to work with: These are sprites cursed to rest neither out in the open or inside any building. Â This leaves them only liminal (that is, threshold) spaces in which to make their homesâin sheltered doorways; behind shutters; under eaves, porches, and outside stairs; and so on. Â Thatâs an absolutely fantastic fluff detail that also suggests some nice encounter options. Need a witness to a burglary? Liminal sprite. Â A guardian for a magical gate? Â Liminal sprite. Â Servant of your worldâs version of Janus? Â Liminal sprite. Â
Liminal sprites also love comedy, so they might hang around actors and theaters, particularly outdoor stages. Â The next time your PCs stop into town for supplies, a side quest involving a liminal sprite wielding a girdle of opposite gender could be a delightfully Shakespearean side trek. Theyâre also knowledgeable about local events and stealthy as hell (+17!). Â And as familiars, their Repartee (Su) ability, which turns the +2 aid another bonus to +2d4, can help a chaotic sorcerer or bard really punch above their weight on Charisma checks.
But thereâs another way to use liminal sprites. Â If you remember your college reading of van Gennep and Turnerâactually, I think my copy of The Ritual Process is still on my bookshelf somewhereâthe original notion of liminality was meant to refer to certain threshold moments in time, not space. Â These were transitional phases during rites of passage, or special times of the year, neither sacred nor profane, where the ordinary rules are suspended and societyâs low and high temporarily occupy an equal footing. (The perfect example of this is the move between (profane) Ordinary Time in the Catholic liturgical calendar and the (sacred) Season of Lent. Â What falls in between? Â Mardi Gras, where we get ready for weeks of repentance by gorging on baked goods and showing our tits. Â It doesn't get more liminal than that. Â Communitas, bitchez!)
This is perfect for liminal sprites.  Like many outsiders and undead, the best fey not only exist in and of themselves, but also represent or embody a larger somethingâŚsometimes a thing (like a dryadâs oak), but sometimes a notion (like the fear of drowning or the joy of the hunt).  The very curse that hampers the liminal sprite ray also gives them a conceptual/spiritual reason for being.  It might even nourish them in some wayâI can imagine scenarios where a liminal sprite gets a small bonus during times of ritualized upheaval (like Carnival), certain days of the calendar (like Leap Day), or specific astrological events (such as eclipses).
âBut wait,â you remind me, âthis is for a game. Thatâs a lot of conceptual bull$#!â to hang on a CR 2 sprite.â And honestly, youâre right. Â
But when the party sorcererâs liminal sprite familiar gets extra antsy or powerful or flat-out vanishes during your game worldâs version of New Yearâs Eve, youâve just made that world a little more real.  And if your PCs are planning a Leap Day treasury heist and are agonizing over whether to wait an extra day to recover spells, or go today to take advantage of the ad hoc bonus youâve announced having a liminal sprite along will conferâŚbut only until midnightâŚwell, suddenly all those ridiculously pretentious paragraphs above have at-the-table, tactical risk/reward consequences.  Not bad for a 3 Hit Dice, size Tiny fey, right?
Gnomish thieves are robbing the citizens of Westphal blind during the summer theater festival. Â They pick the pockets of the distracted citizens during performances, then vanish under the stage, where an open manhole allows escape into the sewers. The gnomes have attracted the attention of a court of liminal sprites, but the faeries are only too happy to guard the portal for the gnomes, so long as they get their cut. Â Last night, though, sewer-dwelling derros discovered the open manhole, and now a lot more than treasure is going to disappear into the darkness.
After a contentious year of peasant uprisings and arguments with Parliament, the queen declares a curfew during Winterfeast.  Among other things, this will prevent the midnight crowning of a Lord and Lady of Misruleâconveniently sparing the queen the need to surrender her authority, even if only symbolically, to a couple of upstarts during the week of parades and masked games.  The peasants are disgruntled, even angered, at the newsâŚbut the regionâs liminal sprites, who delight in the festivities and are spiritually nourished by this time of upheaval, are outraged.  Until a Lord and Lady of Misrule are crowned, the sprites do not intend to let the city have a moment of peace.
In the Polish city of KrakĂłw during King Casimir the Greatâs reign, liminal sprites have been delighted to find companionship and shelter under the eaves of Jewish households. Â The sprites enjoy eavesdropping on the debates of the rabbis, and they treat guarding the mezuzahs on their neighborsâ front doors as an honored nightly obligation. So when the day comes that every mezuzah in the Old Town has vanished, and not a liminal sprite is to be found, the concerned Jewish citizens of KrakĂłw want answers. Â Acceding to their demands, KrakĂłwâs prezydent hires adventurers to look into the mystery.
âPathfinder Bestiary 5 158
The Liminal State Bobcats are a creation of my college friend, Dorothy Gambrell. Â (She lived one floor up and one suite over freshman year.) Webcomic fans will know her as the creator of Cat and Girl, one of the longest-running webcomics to date. Â She actually has a Kickstarter going on right now with about 4 hours left, so this is an excellent time to show her some love.
If youâll indulge me for a second: That tutoring session I mentioned above has become something of a story among a different set of my college friends. Â The short version is that the frosh originally thought I was horrifying. Â To her, I was a drunken weirdo. Â (I maybe used to bring 40s to pep band rehearsals. Â Whoops.)
But then came her brutal Religion 101 paper. Â (To give you context, I didn't have to do any reading for the first three weeks of my 600-level grad school courses because of this same Religion 101 class.) Â Turned out weâd both written about liminality; turned out I still remembered the course; turned out my advice on revising her paper helped earn her an A. Â Weâve been friends ever since. But her roommate later told me she came back to her dorm saying, âThe drunk guy from Band saved my paper and I have to lie down because the world doesnât make sense any more.â
For any of my high school readers about to go to college, thereâs an Alien-esque moral here: In a single room, no one can see you study. (And later on, youâll really get to mess with people.)
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