#the game hasn’t even dropped fully yet and it’s complaints

[simphic]

It’s one things for actual black people, BONAFIDE black people to make those type of jokes but again y’all get very comfortable as if it’s something cute or sweet.

Girl if somebody wanna put their PIXEL baby in a damn lace front that’s their prerogative! Get over it. Y’all can make occults and shit all day then have superiority complexes for no reason. Just show your own gameplay and move on..🤦🏾‍♀️

[buckyskorpion]

11 Hours - part one

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: um yes so hello another au and another wip..... dont hate the player hate the game. i hope you enjoy this though! this is my take on a biker!bucky au because we definitely dont have enough of those. let me know your thoughts on this, critiques, predictions, anything! my ask is open. also i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask. 

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist

You lie on your stomach, sheets pooled by your ankles, and watch Bucky watch you. One hand propping him up on his side, the other tracing slow, hair-raising circles on your bare back. He’s not really seeing you though, eyes glazed over so they look shiny and huge, big enough to get lost in. You roll away from him, off the edge of the bed and onto your feet.

“Going?” he asks, voice rough. You can’t remember the last time one of you spoke - the time between breathless moans and now seems stretched, like a liminal space you’ve both been sitting in for far too long.  It’s time to get back to the real world. You shrug one shoulder, rooting around his bedroom floor for your clothes to redress.

“It’s late,” you say. He huffs an agreement. The two of you didn’t get back to his apartment until after midnight, so who knows the time now.

“Let me call you a cab,” Bucky says, rolling onto his back to pat around the bedside table for his phone. You toss him a look over your shoulder, chosing to ignore him as you pull your skinny jeans up over your ass. Bucky pauses to watch, tongue flicking over his lips and not bothering to hide his grin when you catch him. You throw your jacket at his head which he catches with ease, laughing himself back into the pillows. Ugh, he’s such a menace.

You walk back over to the bed once you get your last shoe on, closing the distance you’d created that was so obvious in the contrast between his bare skin and you, fully dressed. You lean over him, letting him tug you close with a hand on your hip while you pull him up with a grip on his dog-tags. You kiss him, a hard press of lips and a quick swipe of your tongue that he tries to follow but you pull away. He lets you go, rolling his eyes at the tease.

“See ya later, tough guy,” you say, backing up to the door. He tosses your leather jacket back to you, and you catch it with one hand as you head down the hallway. It’s the closest thing you’ll get to a goodbye from him, so you let the front door click shut without another word.

You shrug into your jacket as you race down the stairs of Bucky’s apartment building, heading for the laundry room. It’s not like you know Bucky - all you do is fuck on any day you both happen to be free, starting at a grungy bar in downtown weeks ago and ending here, in some strange friends with benefits situation (minus the ‘friends’ part). He’s hot, and you’re not looking for a relationship, so it’s perfect. Only, something about the scars on Bucky’s knuckles and the motorbike he drives you home on after the bar makes the hair on the back of your neck raise. Something about Bucky is bad news, and you’re not about to get caught up in it just for some (mindblowingly good) sex.

So, you head to the laundry room and climb out the window rather than using the lobby doors. Nobody sees you, and it’s easy to get to if you stand on the dryer in the far right corner. You don’t know why you think someone might be watching Bucky’s apartment, or following you from your late night visits, but your dad always said you were paranoid and it’s never hurt you this far in your life. You swing a leg through the window and drop down into the patchy grass below.

From here you scale the fence into the gym parking lot next door and enter the street that way, nobody the wiser. You stuff your hands in your pockets as you walk down the street, itching for a cigarette or some gum or a pair of earphones, something to keep you company as walk home in the middle of night in New York. There are still people out and about, because of course there are, it’s New York. You make it home without a hitch and immediately head to the shower to wash off the night.

Naked again, before you get under the jet you check your phone. Bucky has texted you - probably a joke or something, his pretence for checking you get home safely. Tough guy my ass, you think as you open the picture he’d sent. He’s holding up the black lace panties you’d been wearing, the one’s he’d pulled off with his teeth and tossed aside without a second thought. Under it, he’s sent another message. Think you forgot something.

Did I really forget them? You try to bite back a grin, because it’s sad to be standing in your bathroom smiling at your phone, but you’re unsuccessful. You watch the three dots under Bucky’s name start and stop, then start again, making your heartbeat pick up. You’d made the oh-so-confident Bucky ‘dont know his last name and don’t need to’ falter. It still gives you a thrill.

Don’t think you’ll be getting them back.

Consider it a present, perv.

You like it

No comment.

You jump in the shower, leaving your phone on the vanity. You can’t leave the shower until you rub one out, the rounds of sex you’d had a mere hour ago long forgotten at the thought of Bucky doing the same thing as you to the panties you’d left behind. Maybe you don’t want to get caught up in whatever shit Bucky is in to set off your paranoia radar, but you certainly want to get caught up in him. If you aren’t already; irreversibly tangled.

***

You never find Bucky, he finds you. Or rather, he gives you a call and you know within a few hours you’ll be at whatever bar or diner he asks you to meet him at, building up the tension until you both can’t take it anymore and go back to his apartment. It doesn’t matter what you say to him, or how many times you say no - you both know you’ll be there.

This time he catches you leaving your dad’s place, pushing through the gate as you put the phone up to your ear. You turn to wave goodbye to your dad in the window he always stands at to see you off towards the subway, and say, “So soon?”

“Hello to you too,” Bucky grumbles, but you know there’s no heat in it. You’re grinning as you dodge pedestrians, tugging your puffer jacket tighter around you with your free hand - the New York winter chill has started to set in and it’s biting through even the hoodie you’re wearing under the jacket.

“Hello, Bucky,” you say, hoping he can pick up on the thick condescension you’re handing him, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I can hang up,” Bucky warns, and you smirk. You’re winning this round, at least.

“Aw, don’t be like that, baby.” You jog down the subway stairs, hoping your line doesn’t cut out as you move underground. It doesn’t, Bucky’s reluctant laugh filtering clear as day through your phone.

“Baby, huh? Moving onto pet names are we, doll?”

You wrinkle your nose, “Ugh, not if they’re from the nineteen forties, no thank you.”

“I’m sure you hate it,” Bucky says, sarcasm heavy. You can hear his eyeroll from here. “What are you doing?”

“Getting on a train,” you say, as you do indeed slip through the almost-closed doors and try to avoid any and all surfaces around you. “What are you doing?”

“Talking to you,” Bucky says, grin audible. It’s your turn to huff now - Bucky never tells you anything about his life, what he’s doing, who he’s with. It’s another thing that makes you think he’s hiding something, but instead of finding it infuriating and a dealbreaker like you should, instead you’re fascinated. Your mission is to figure Bucky out, piece by piece.

There’s a muffled voice on the other line, someone talking to Bucky and you imagine him covering the receiver with one big palm. A hand that you want on you, running down your skin and pressing down over your throat and dipping between-

“You there?” Bucky asks, jolting you out of your daydream. You’re blushing, suddenly too-hot in the layers that were previously not doing enough to ward off the chill.

You clear your throat and say, “Yeah, yeah, sorry, what?”

“Mmhmm,” Bucky says, clearly amused. “I said, I’ve got a favour to ask you. Something a bit different.”

“Oh?” It had been weeks of going to dive bars and underground diners, meeting Bucky in dark corners to drink rum and cokes and eventually fuck each other senseless until you’re sure Bucky must get noise complaints. Never had he once indicated he might want to change the routine you’d set up. Never had he asked you for a favour. To say you were intrigued was an understatement.

“Come to a party with me tonight?” he asks. You have to replay his voice in your head to make sure you heard right, stunned into silence. He takes your pause for a ‘no’, hurriedly filling it with, “I get if it’s a no, but my friend Nat is a drill sergeant and she’ll give me the third degree if I don’t bring-“

“Don’t hurt yourself,” you say, interrupting his nervous ramble. You’d never heard Bucky sound anything but aggressively confident before. It’s throwing you for more of a loop than his invitation. A large part of your brain tells you to say no. You don’t trust Bucky, really - you barely know him. But thats why you want to say yes. Going to this party might change that. “I’ll go. What time?”

“Eight tonight,” he says, breathing a sigh of relief. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah, you do,” you laugh. You organise to meet at his apartment, not quite ready to give him your address yet, and hang up. Your mind is reeling, sure everyone on the train must feel the impact of that phone call, too.

They’re all going about their business as if something monumental hasn’t just happened. Bucky has invited you into his life, to meet his friends, as his date. What happened to not-friends with benefits? What if this changes the arrangement you’ve carefully cultivated, so perfect for your independent lifestyle and Bucky’s obvious commitment issues?

The temptation is too much. You practically run home when you get off at your stop, anxious to get ready. You’re about to get a few more pieces of the Bucky puzzle and you have to look good for it.

***

Bucky stops you in the front hall of the house, a hand on your arm as he stares down at you. He looks comically large in the tiny Brooklyn town house, even if it is ten times nicer and more beautiful than your place will ever be. The party filters in from further inside the house, loud music and laughter and the obvious clink of beer bottles sounding muffled through the bubble of you and Bucky.

“My friends are… a lot,” he says, drawing his lip between his teeth. You tilt your head at him, amused by what you can only assume is nerves radiating off Bucky. He rolls his eyes at you, kisses you on the forehead quickly, and adds, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I can handle myself, tough guy,” you say as he tugs you by the hand through to the living room where the party is in full swing.

“I hope you’re not calling that punk ‘tough’, lady,” a man calls out from the couch, pointing the neck of his beer at Bucky. His tone sounds aggressive but the wide, gap-toothed smile he gives says otherwise. He gets up and pulls Bucky into one of those manly half-hugs. Bucky doesn’t drop your hand as he pats the guy on the back, and you try in vain not to read too much into that.

“Sam, this is (Y/n),” Bucky says, and to your surprise Sam pulls you into a hug as well. You make wide eyes at Bucky over Sam’s shoulder but he just smirks, clearly amused. He’s still holding your hand.

“Nice to meet you!” Sam exclaims, a bit too loud in your ear but you don’t mind. His happiness is infectious. “Come meet Natasha, she’s going to love you.”

“Why’s that?” you ask, letting yourself be led by Sam with an arm over your shoulders to the couch he’d just vacated. Bucky drops his grip but follows too-close behind you, his body heat almost like a physical touch on your back, reminding you he’s there. You wonder if he’s nervous about what you’re going to say to his friends, or what his friends are going to say to you.

“Because,” Sam says cryptically. You roll your eyes - he’s sounds just like Bucky.

Sam stops in front of the redhead woman he was sitting next to when you entered, dropping the arm from your shoulders. She immediately stops her conversation and stands up, giving you a once over with a smirk tucked tight in the corner of your mouth. You try not to feel intimidated but it’s hard - she’s beautiful, and scary, and did you mention beautiful? She shoots an amused look to Bucky over your shoulder, and in response Bucky rests his fingertips on the small of your back. Barely there, but just enough.

“You’ve brought someone, James,” she says, turning her attention back to you and holding a hand out. “Natasha, lovely to meet you.”

“(Y/n),” you say, taking her hand. It’s soft -  you half expected her to break your hand. “Thank you for having me.”

“Oh, you’re adorable,” she says, and you don’t bother hiding your frown. You don’t like feeling condescended and Natasha seems to be exuding that in palpable waves. Bucky must feel you stiffen because he steps closer, if possible, and slides the hand on your back around to grip your hip.

“Nat,” he says, with warning, and you glance up at Bucky to find him having some kind of silent stare off with Natasha over your head. Eventually he looks back down to you, smiling a bit and squeezing your hip, don’t worry about her. To you, he says, “Let’s go say hi to Steve.”

“See you later, (Y/n),” Nat says, wiggling her fingers in a wave as you follow Bucky to the kitchen. You ignore her, stepping closer to Bucky on instinct as you weave through people packed wall to wall. That was weird, but what did you expect? Bucky did warn you.

Steve turns out to be a giant blonde teddy bear who sweeps Bucky into a hug that lifts him onto his toes. It’s endlessly funny to see huge, muscled, intimidating Bucky being manhandled by a touchy, clearly tipsy behemoth. Bucky doesn’t let it stand for too long, though, bringing Steve into a headlock and sending them both tumbling into the kitchen bench.

“Jerk,” Steve gasps when Bucky lets him go, eyes narrowing. Bucky grins, breathless, and punches him on the shoulder.

“Punk,” he says fondly. You’re mesmerised. You’d wanted to see more of Bucky’s life but you never expected this. It’s like watching him with his family, and it makes something soft and fuzzy swell in your heart which is bad. Very, very bad. Maybe you shouldn’t have come.

Steve finally notices you’re there and you do the normal introductions, watching your hand disappear in his huge one as he shakes it. They’ve all been very welcoming, in their own ways, you notice (bar Natasha, but something tells you she’s always like that). They don’t seem to question your sudden appearance at their party or with their friend, holding Bucky’s hand and being tucked into his side as he passes you a beer and gets to talking about things you have no hope of following. You’re happy just to watch Bucky, smiling and laughing with pointed teeth and crinkles by his eyes. You still don’t really understand why you’re here, but you’re not going to question it. This feels like a stolen moment, something you’re not meant to see and might not see again so you try and commit as much to memory as you can.

The night goes on, talking with Sam and Steve and Natasha who appear to be Bucky’s closest friends and the only ones he bothers making time for. Bucky doesn’t stop touching you the entire time. At first you think it’s nerves, but the more you observe the party around you when the conversation turns to something you can’t contribute to, the more you think it’s for everyone else rather than Bucky’s nerves. You catch a lot of people eyeing his hand on your hip or his arm around your shoulders, or just looking at Bucky in general. Hardly anyone interrupts your little party of five but not for ignoring you - it’s almost like they revolve around you, in tune to the groups’ every movement, but they wouldn’t dare approach. It’s weird. You try not to look too hard into it but your dad is right. You’re paranoid.

Eventually it’s just you and Bucky sitting on a bench outside, a canopy of fairy lights casting shadows from his unfairly long eyelashes as he looks down at your entwined hands in his lap. You tug against his grip, causing him to look up at you and you almost lose your train of thought. Bucky’s eyes are searing blue, the hottest part of the flame.

“You’re being very possessive tonight,” you say, squeezing his hand for emphasis. He doesn’t look away from your eyes, cocking his head to the side and you have the distinct feeling you’re being tested.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks. You don’t answer straight away. Truth be told, you have no idea what’s going on. You went from fucking Bucky on a semi-regular basis, keeping it at strangers who bone and nothing else, to being glued to his side at a party with his closest friends in what feels like no time at all. Whiplash, is what you feel. You don’t think you hate it, though.

“I never said that,” you tell Bucky, and watch as his face morphs from calculating to that shit-eating, confident smirk you’ve come to know. You’re relieved to see it, the sparkle of his eyes as he leans closer to you in the dark of the garden. This, at least, you know.

“You’ve done well tonight,” he says, and you hate how you glow at the compliment when you should be rolling your eyes. “I know I’ve asked a lot.”

“It’s alright Bucky,” you say, smiling at his seriousness. You’d think he’s asked you to commit a crime or something. “Although, I don’t know why you needed me here. I’m glad you did, but…”

“But you thought I only wanted you, to fuck you?” he finishes, kicking his eyebrows up in amusement. You hate the way you blush, ducking your head from him to try and hide it.

“I feel like that was a very logical conclusion,” you say defensively. What else had he given you? You didn’t even know his last name.

He takes your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back up to look at him. He’s smiling soft, not condescending at all, and he moves his hand to cup your cheek in his palm and hold you there, looking at him.

“Maybe this was a test,” he says, licking his lips. Biding time. “To see if I can trust you.”

“Do you?” you ask, eyebrows kicking up.

“Jury’s still out,” he says with a grin, light-hearted, playing it off as a joke but you know from the look in his eyes that he’s being somewhat serious. He looks out at the garden then, still holding you close, and says almost thoughtfully, “My friends like you, though. Even Natasha.”

You scoff at that, and he turns back to you with that crinkly, squishy smile he gave to Steve before. It catches you off guard, enough to not see the kiss before it comes but you catch up as fast as you can. You want to slide into his lap and run your fingers under his shirt, but that’s probably a bit inappropriate in front of a bunch of people you just met. You settle for a frustrated groan against his mouth, biting his lip and tugging so he’s forced to chase you against the back of the bench, crowding your space. He drops your hand to slide his up your thigh, fingertips dangerously close to your crotch, kissing you hard enough to bruise. His tongue in your mouth is scalding, stubble against your skin a delicious burn, and you would’ve gotten lost in it if it weren’t for the very pointed cough from behind Bucky’s shoulder.

It’s Natasha, standing with her arms folded and a smile hidden somewhere in the green of her eyes. You try to mentally will away the flush in your cheeks as Bucky pulls back, hand still on your thigh but turning to glare at Natasha. You find yourself somewhat hiding behind the bulk of his shoulder despite yourself, letting him take the reins.

“Steve is puking,” she reports, raising one eyebrow. “Sam requests your assistance.”

“Fucking ‘course he does,” Bucky grumbles roughly, getting to his feet. Right before he storms away he pauses, leans back down to kiss you again, and then he’s back on a warpath through the house. Other guests part for him like the red sea, and you watch with furrowed eyebrows as they also seem to watch him go. He never goes anywhere without an audience. Perhaps you were right to be paranoid about him.

Natasha is still standing there when you blink yourself back to the garden, watching you with an unreadable expression. You straighten your holey, vintage t-shirt under your leather jacket and stand, not enjoying the power difference with her standing above you. You wish Bucky had taken you with him, even though you didn’t particularly want to watch Steve throw up everywhere. It would be preferable to being stuck under Natasha’s x-ray vision, though.

“I like your boots,” she says. It takes you aback - such a typical girl thing to say at a party to someone you don’t know, and Natasha doesn’t give you ‘typical’. You glance down at your Docs, and then back up at her pretty sundress with a sexy v-cut.  Sure you do, you think sarcastically, as you both stand there like night and day.

“Thanks,” you manage to say, “And again, for inviting me. The party’s been great.”

“Has it?” she asks, and why do you feel like she’s asking three questions at once? As if sensing your apprehension, she smiles and adds, “Just, I know we’re a bit full on and being the new girl at a party is always difficult.”

You blink, surprised once again. The sincerity throws you for a loop, as everything seems to with Natasha. You say, “I mean, yeah, but you guys are great. You all seem really close, it’s- nice. Like  a family.”

Something flashes in Natasha’s eyes, that amused little smirk returning to her face that fills your gut with dread. Was it something you said?

“Come on,” she says, and just as you think you can’t be surprised by this woman anymore, she winds her arm with yours and starts leading you back into the house. Throwing you a conspiratorial look you’re not sure you’ve earned, she says, “Let’s go find the boys. I’m sure Steve’s finished throwing up by now.”

Part Two

~~~~~ please let me know what you think!

[paradoxicalpatton]

I’m Not In Love

Title: I’m Not in Love Summary: “He thinks about them owning a dog, a golden retriever to be exact. A girl, they’d call her Honey. The Captain would fight for a regular name such as Charlotte, but Pat would convince him that Honey is much more fitting. ‘It matches her fur!’ he’d say. The Captain would immediately give in. He thinks about what it would feel like to be the object of Pat's affections. To be completely and utterly enamoured by someone so full of love." The Captain and Pat's friendship is put on the line. Pairings: Patcap (The Captain/Pat) Content Warnings: Very mild period typical internalised homophobia Chapter: 2 Word Count: 1744 Read on: Archive of Our Own  Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“I can’t believe we’ve just sat here for five hours and have done absolutely nothing.”

The setting sun cast a warm golden glow on the land as it began to slowly cross the horizon, the trees and bushes gently swaying to and fro, adding a soft, cool breeze to the scene. The lake had mirrored the sunset, the transition from sky to land now almost impossible to distinguish if it weren’t for small ripples from the wind delicately distorting the light over the water.

The once vivid greens and browns of the foliage among the ground and surrounding the lake had now been muted by the vibrant yellows and oranges that were now reflecting from the sun and onto the water, a deep rich blue quickly chasing away the final remnants of the day completely from the vast stretching sky above.

Pat and the Captain had been sitting by the lake since late that afternoon, having finally escaped from the chaos that is Button house. It was nice. Peaceful. For once they could relax without being interrupted by Julian with a story of some sex-capde he had been in followed by Fanny’s usual disgusted complaints, or by Thomas demanding that one of them tell Kitty to leave him alone while he comes up with the next great piece of literature.

Alison had come to realise just how much she depended on the two of them to keep the other ghosts in order, so she had organised an afternoon full of activities the ghosts would enjoy and participate in so Pat and the Captain could finally have some time to themselves.

Sitting underneath the large tree, Pat watched the grass move with the wind, longing to reach a hand out and run it across the ground so that he could feel it between his fingers. It made him think back to when he was alive. Carol had always complained about their front garden, how the weeds in the flower beds were overgrown and that the bushes were always untrimmed. He had always wanted to fix it for her, but he was usually preoccupied with his scout duties, and when he did find time to think about it he simply couldn’t come up with anything.

He owed it to his son Daley, however, when the young boy had asked him if they could plant flowers for his Mummy’s birthday, that way she didn’t have to throw them out after they died. So when Carol left to spend a week at her mothers before her birthday, Pat and Daley drove out to the garden store and bought everything they needed to fix it up for her.

Forget-me-nots, marigolds, daffodils, and pansies now filled the once weed-infested flower beds. The bushes had been trimmed, the trees cut, and the lawn mown. A small wooden bench had even been built and placed at the end of the garden. The smile on Daley’s face as him and his father admired their hard work from the bench was brighter than anything Pat had ever seen. They were so proud.

Pat wished he could smell the rich soil at this moment. Wished he could run his hands along the grass, listen to the sound of the fallen dead leaves crunch as he walked over them. He wished he could relive the feeling of pulling his son close to him in a tight hug after planting the final flower.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of crickets waking up for the evening, as the last remaining rays of sunlight dropped below the horizon.

----------

Not wanting to return to Button house just yet, Pat directed his gaze at the man next to him. The Captain had been leant against the tree since they had got there that afternoon, the two occasionally making small talk before the Captain closed his eyes in an attempt to have the most peaceful nap of his entire existence. He’d woken not long ago, just in time to watch the sun fall and the moon rise.

For a moment after he’d woken up, the Captain had almost forgotten he was dead. At that moment, there was nothing but him, Pat, and the ground they were sat on. The tranquil smile that graced Pat’s face was more than enough to set the Captain’s heart racing. He tried to imagine what it would’ve been like, had the two of them been alive at the same time where loving the same gender was legal.

They’d move to the countryside, he decided. They’d have a large backyard with a vegetable garden by the white picket fence, maybe an apple tree, maybe even a chicken or two. The Captain had always found the thought of fresh eggs in the morning very appealing, as well as the structure provided from owning and caring for the animals.

He thinks about them owning a dog, a golden retriever to be exact. A girl, they’d call her Honey. The Captain would fight for a regular name such as Charlotte, but Pat would convince him that Honey is much more fitting. ‘It matches her fur!’ he’d say. The Captain would immediately give in.

He thinks about what it would feel like to be the object of Pat's affections. To be completely and utterly enamoured by someone so full of love.

It’s wrong, thinking about Pat that way. Imagining the two of them living in domestic bliss, running away and starting their lives all over again together. The Captain isn’t entirely sure why it’s wrong though. He was there for Sam and Claire’s wedding, he knows it’s not illegal to love the same gender anymore. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t fully accepted it himself.

He was so used to hiding away his feelings, burying them deep inside of him so that no one would ever see. So that no one would ever know he was defective. If he didn’t get close to anybody, he couldn’t betray them if they ever found out the truth.

Maybe he thought it was wrong because he truly believed that Pat would never love someone like him. He was cold, a stickler for rules and order. Not to mention that Pat was married while he was alive, to a woman no less. It was clear the scoutmaster was as straight as a pole.

It wouldn’t do any good getting his hopes up. Instead, the Captain would ignore the longing inside of him, he didn’t want to ruin what was quite possibly his only friendship in the entire house.

“Yes, well we have Alison to thank for that. Maybe we could convince her to turn this into a monthly thing. I could do with some time away from that lot every now and then.”

The Captain turned his attention toward Pat as he replied, hoping the younger ghost would be in favour of the idea. With a small nod of agreeance, Pat stood up and offered a hand to the Captain to avoid the struggle of getting up. The two of them slowly made their way back to Button house, the sounds of the other ghosts getting increasingly louder the closer they got. Hoping to stay undetected by the others, Pat and the Captain quietly snuck into the room where Alison and the other ghosts were playing some type of game.

They had almost gotten away with it without anyone noticing until Fanny got insulted at something Julian had said and jumped up to storm away. Seeing the Captain and Pat at the back of the room, she immediately took her complaint to them, the two male ghosts now preparing themselves to be thrown back into the chaos with everyone beginning to talk at once.

Alison made an attempt to calm the other ghosts down and distract them once more but was unsuccessful. It wasn’t until Pat raised his voice that everyone finally quietened down, pointing a finger at Robin asking him to start.

“Where you two go? We all play game, you not here.”

Before either of them had a chance to respond, Julian cut in with a thought that sent the ghosts into disarray once more.

“Probably off somewhere doing the old ‘horizontal tango’ if you ask me.”

“Now listen here, man! I won’t take any of this bum rap from someone of the likes of you. I would never do anything of the sort, and especially not with a brown-noser such as Patrick!”

The room stilled. The sudden silence wasn’t because of the Captain’s outburst, however, instead, the other ghosts looked past him at the short scout leader.

Without saying a word, Pat turned around and walked out, making his way to the dilapidated fountain outside the front door. He wasn’t really sure why what the Captain said had upset him. It hurt, to be completely honest.

Sitting by the edge of the fountain, Pat traced the overgrown vines with his eyes and ignored the presence slowly approaching him from behind.

“Patrick, I’m terribly sorry our friendship was misconstrued in such a way, I understand how embarrassing it was.”

“Embarrassed? You really think I’m upset because Julian’s comment embarrassed me?”

“Of course. Is… is that not the reason you’re upset?”

“No! Julian always says inappropriate things, it was what you said that hurt me.”

The Captain’s hands tightened around his swagger stick as Pat spoke, something in the younger man's tone made him want to embrace the scout leader.

“I don’t understand how, I was simply disproving Julian’s abhorrent comment.”

“That’s how! He said something about us together in passing and you acted like it was the worst possible thing in the world! Am I really that revolting Captain?”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Patrick!”

“Seriously? Can’t you see that I’m angry at you? I’m upset! And you... you don’t even care!”

“How dare you, of course I care! But you’re acting like a child, it’s time to grow up-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the Captain was shoved back, his feet tripping over one another causing him to fall to the ground. Looking up, Pat stood above him, the man’s face a mixture of regret and anger. The Captain watched as Pat turned around, his hands clenched by his sides.

“Cap, you’re a broken man, haunted by the choices you've made. I really thought we were becoming good friends. I’m sorry if I interpreted our relationship the wrong way.”

“Pat…”

“Don’t. Please, just don’t Cap. Sorry I pushed you.”

[kareofbears]

persona 5 strikers thoughts and feelings

This is going to be a long post. Like, the type of post you’d only really have time to read when you’re trying to sleep but you’re not ready to be unconscious yet so you’re just looking for something to do to spend your time with minimal effort. 

So in 2018, a masterpiece was born into the world: Into the Spider-verse was released and it was amazing—it’s honestly the best spiderman movie we have without a doubt, and it’ll be very far into the future before Spider-verse is beaten as the best spiderman movie. Them’s the facts. Then in 2019, Spider-man: Far From Home was dropped. It’s a great movie! Great characters, great continuation of who these characters are and works fantastic as a continuation of a story. It’s really hard trying to take the torch of a previous movie (or in Marvel’s case, juggling twenty something movies) and come up with a new movie that both works on its own, as well as being the next step in this series of films. Thus, with that idea in mind, I think it’s kind of unfair to judge into the spiderverse and far from home, because these are two movies with two completely different objectives in mind. 

Okay, so this is still a persona 5 strikers post, I promise, but the idea is the same: Persona 5 could basically do whatever it wanted—new story, new characters, new everything, and it’s just plain old awesome. However, Persona 5 strikers did not have that sort of freedom. It was bound to the original game, and it had its own rules and stuff it had to keep intact, characters they had to work with, and on top of that, it had to justify its existence as a sequel (lets pretend money doesnt exist lmfao). 

SO, the big question is: did it do that? Did it justify its existence? 

And my answer: holy fuck did it ever do that

I came into this game knowing the extreme bare minimum. I knew there was someone named Sophia, and i knew there was roadtrip, and i knew there were Personas. That’s my knowledge of it before i played it on the Switch.  I should also clarify like, early on, that i was not expecting anything from this game. At all. I was the world’s biggest cynic of this game—if you scroll down my p5s tag far enough, youll just see me complaining about a game that hasn’t even come out yet. I was fully expecting to have this be a Waifu show, and any male character that isn’t Akira to just be shoved aside like some kind of nerd in a high school hallway, and i have never been more pleased to be wrong. In fact, i actually owe it an apology, because of how fucking rude i was for no reason!!! Because this game deserves everything to be honest. 

Persona 5 strikers is, frankly, insane. Insane in the sense that it got to pull shit off that just would never have existed in the original game, because the original game is scared. It had to be as impressive as possible and garner as much attention as possible. Strikers does not have that problem—every single person who bought that game does not need to be convinced that persona 5 is a good game. They already played it. That means Atlus can just fuck around and have a good time, and man did they have a good time. There’s still scenes that still shock me if i think about it too hard, because i’m used to atlus having to follow this sort of rule set when it comes to persona 5 (or any of the main games im assuming, but i havent played them.) And on top of that, there’s still shit that’s Atlus Trademarked Branded in a good way. The style of story of story telling, and revealing the mystery that is so integral to what p5 is, is still there. 

So, to make this even a little bit comprehensible, i will make a list! 

First of all, What is this game?

In short, this game is an OVA of an anime. It’s bonus side content that has one thing in mind: to showcase these lovable characters more by putting them in fun situations. That’s it, and it is just phenomenal. That was the main point of, i’d say, like forty hours of the game. It’s just fun times with fun characters. 

But to get deeper of what i think is happening, or what they were thinking during the development, is that this is a second opportunity. Persona 5 (as we all know) had a lot of problems, and we were not quiet about those problems. We yelled it all out, made posts, made complaints on every social media platform ever. And Atlus heard all of them, and Strikers is a way to mitigate those mistakes. Aside from being a fun OVA, Strikers also works to be a deeper exploration of these characters—more specifically, the characters that did not receive much in the original game. Creating this sequel is having the ability to redo what they felt (or to be more specific, we felt) in the original game while adding new ones. I will get to that in a second.  

The format of the game 

Absolutely brilliant to throw them on a road trip. P5V already forced us to experience Shibuya for 200+ hours, and im so glad that they didn’t do that again. Going from town to town, making us experience these new places alongside our favorite characters is so good, and it just makes sense. It’s fun, it’s lighthearted, and it’s actually shockingly good. But one thing i do want to talk about early on is the way the story unfolds and the villains that they use, and what they do with it because it’s very interesting. 

So as we explore japan and stuff, we encounter jails, and with those jails comes an antagonist. This antagonist works to be a parallel to one of our characters. That character will find it in their hearts to feel bad for the antagonist, because the antagonist could have been them had the original game not happen. At first I thought all of the thieves were gonna get an antagonist, and i was really hyped for the ryuji one. And then came to hour forty of the game where i realized “yeah that’s not gonna happen. There’s just not enough time.” And i was right, and the game ended. But i am not salty at all, honestly, because the people who got a direct antagonist were: Ann, Yusuke, and Haru. (we wont count zen and sophie). 

Is there a trend??? Yes. these are all characters in the original game that have received the worst treatment by atlus. The three of them are basically cast aside the minute they finished their original arc, and its horrible! BUT that’s why this is the path that atlus chose for them—to give them more depth, and screentime, and a way to show their inner self. That isn’t to say that the ones who aren’t those three (makoto, futaba, mona, akira, ryuji) didn’t get anything. Futaba still has her thing at the end with ichinose, and she was very prevalent and animated during the rest of the game. Mona and Akira have to be a focal points, that’s just the nature of the game. The other two though, I will talk about in depth in a second.  

Makoto

Y’all i poke fun at shumako fans sometimes cause its kind of easy and fun, but i honestly love makoto. In my very first playthrough of p5 (my first ever jrpg game, first persona game, i had no idea what i was doing), i had only maxed out two characters: ryuji and makoto. And i know she had a lot of screentime and love in the original game which is great, but i truly felt like she was dissed in this game. Her only roles were

A driver

Someone to tell them “we don’t have a choice. Let’s keep going and see where this takes us.” (seriously, if you replay this game, you will see how much she does this)

Idk, i just wish she had more to do, especially compared to how much love they gave the other characters. 

But let’s talk about some of the new characters! 

Zenkichi

Damn you atlus. Damn you and your insistence at bringing in cop characters. I was fully on board with hating zenkichi, i was fucking ready for it. I was convinced that there was nothing they could do convince to like zenkichi. I was immune to their copaganda. 

And then i ended up loving him, which makes me sad a little bit. I didn’t realize how desperate i was to have an adult who has a persona. Someone who wants the world to change just as much as they do, while still having that aspect of them that makes them adult. Like??? As someone who is technically an adult, its a breath of fresh air. An adult. Who fights. For justice. Using a persona. And god i love akane so much, and her obsession with the thieves (that scene is probably in my top ten fave scenes of the game). Also what i loved about zenkichi is that he fucking hates the cops!! He hates the system of the cops!! And thats why i actually really started to love him!! Because i thought it was atlus saying that the systematic problem of the police cannot be solved by one person, and zenkichi threw away his badge. I actually cried at that part!! 

But then he became a cop again, and i was just :/ but as a character, i really love him to bits and would love to do a study on him, or at least use him as an outside pov. But! i absolutely love his persona, since im a les miserables fan hehe

Sophia 

she’s probably my favorite new aspect of the game. I was ready to not like her—again, i just suck like that, lmfao—and when i saw her, i was scared that she was just another waifu. I mean, she was very cute after all. But then as the game went on, i thought she was a little too cute. And even further into the game, i finally slapped myself in the face and realized oh my god shes not a waifu. Shes a sister. 

That blew my mind, im ngl to you. A female character that isn’t supposed to be romanced? By jove, what a miracle! 

And she…is an amazing character. Im sorry, i just love her so much. I love her so much that she  probably ranks as my fifth or sixth favorite character which is surprising even to me. Everything about her is delightful and invigorating. She’s funny??? Her comedic timing is amazing, and she has such chemistry with the rest of the team. She’s actually useful to the plot, and while her character design is a little too on the nose for me in terms of cuteness (i mean, good god she’s wearing oversized sweater to show how cute and tiny she is, and her hair has literal hearts in it), she is absolutely lovable. 

But what i actually really wanna gush about for a second is sophia at the last stage of the game. You get the idea, i dont really like to get excited over things, so at this point i figured that there was nothing this game could do to shock me. 

And then sophia had a persona awakening. 

Like. holy fuck did i yell. I didnt realize what was happening until the music had already kicked in. and its just so fucking smart!!! Sophia??? The ai?? With no heart?? gOT A PERSONA???? AWAKENING??? BECAUSE SHE LEARNED WHAT THE HEART IS AND THE PASSION THAT YOU NEED IN ORDER TO GET A PERSONA??? I started crying honestly, because it was just so smart. And looking back on it now, its obvious!! Of course it would lead to this, it only made sense that the culmination of her character arc leads to her getting a persona, nothing else would have been as good. Also, her voice actor is just amazing?? When she was talking to ichinose at the end, i actually got incredibly emotional because of the line reads. Its just so spot on and it really captures the essence of sophia.

Muah. five stars Atlus. You got me. 

Ryuji <3!!!!

Oh man. Oh boy. Okay. so where do i start. 

Yall know i love him. Hes probably my favorite fictional male character of all time, and he is the one i was the absolute most cynical about in this game. I was expecting literally nothing. Nothing. Like. nothing. I thought he was just gonna keep being used as a joke, or a gag, and he’s gonna be super horny all the time for the other girls and it was gonna make me mad and there was gonna be some insane homophobic/queerphobic jokes in every other scene and i know i was being unfair, but i cant help it. 

And then i played the first two hours of the game, and i cried the entire time. Because ryuji has never been better than he is in this game. Its crazy. 

The ryuji in persona 5 strikers is who ryuji should have been/how he should have been treated this entire time. From the actual funny jokes (for example, the gold bar joke + his reaction to it in the beginning of the game), defending his female friends instead of being the one people need to defend from (natsume arc), and the fact that he was the one to be there with morgana and akira in the very beginning of the game. Its such a small thing that they didnt even need to do, but it was such an integral part of the original game for me, that i just was convinced that nothing like this was going to happen. But then it happened. Its just small stuff like that that could have been overlooked but it wasn’t because this game? Persona 5 strikers? Fucking loves ryuji. 

The actual respect they gave this boy is insane and i wasn't ready for it. Like, they gave the shujin trio lunch, they gave the little charm of the katana when they were in natsume’s jail, and, in my opinion this is the second-best thing that they could have given ryuji is sophia. Ryuji and sophia are the pinnacle of a brother & sister bonding relationship in the game that isn’t akira & futaba. And its really prevalent too?? Small stuff from the beginning of the game (pulling her out of a jail, calling her shorty), but then you have the iconic “shut the fuck up” scene, and that scene was so well characterized and written and voice acted, that somehow him saying “fuck” was the least exciting part of that scene to me. Ryuji is an older brother to her, like its undoubtable, and its only further cemented at the end of the game where Ryuji helps out ichinose because he knows how much sophia cares about her. This game. Love ryuji. And i love. This game. 

You know what else i love? Akiryu. 

Guys. i was fully prepared to starve in terms of akiryu. But theres just. So much of it. I wont get too deep into it, because i think this aspect of the game for me still needs marinate a little bit. Like, what was that last shot when EMMA died and Ryuji walked to approach Akira so they could relish in their victory together?? And the smile from both of them??? What the fuck. That was amazing. Also Joker being saved by Ryuji when he was about to fall from the cliff to save sophia??? WHAT. The LEADER AND HIS RIGHT HAND MAN? WHAT. anyway. If theres anything i want to keep for myself in my own brain, its the akiryu aspect of this game, so i wont talk too much about that part of things (instead, itll probably manifest in fic lmfaooo). 

Sure, there’s tidbits of stuff i dont like that they gave ryuji: sexualizing ann in that one cut scene and making him touch the jails even though it hurts, and i recognize those and frown at them, but for the most part, i am blown away with how they treated him.

Basically, Ryuji has never been better. From the opening of the game with him being the first text message and the one to sling his arm around akira, to the very last cut scene where it was ryuji wordlessly leaving because he’s so confident that they would never be separated for long, this game adores Ryuji and i am so so happy to say that.

The Royal aspect of things

Yeah, i had to talk about this, but itll be a short thing i just wanted to point out. Because the last part of this game...is persona 5 royal. Which is curious. Like taking reality and giving that power to someone else so you dont have to experience suffering anymore? And even like, the final section just looked a lot like the top half of maruki’s palace?? And whats even crazier is that we had a boss fight with sophia, just like how we had a boss fight with sumire? Royal and Strikers have like, the same thesis statement. It’s kind of uncanny.It’s interesting, it’s like atlus came up with these two ideas, and then just decided they liked both of them so much that they just did it twice. I don’t mind though—actually, in terms of how the last Palace/Jails go, i probably like them both about equally. 

Though i did love the final battle in this one more than i did in royal. Splitting into teams?? Thats cool as fuck, and really innovative and i didnt see it coming. It also kicked my ass. A lot. 

Now for the last stretch: the small stuff!

The music — bomb as fuck. In my heart, Daredevil is ranked the same as Rivers. Axe to grind is also amazing, but Daredevil owns me

Akechi — i really debated whether or not to talk about him, but i figured a bullet point should be enough. Im really shocked that he wasnt in this at all. Like not even a name drop. If this is an OVA, and the point of the game is to please the fans, and akechi is arguably the fan favorite character, i was really ready for something. But there was nothing, except for the pancake hallway if that even counts as a reference. Thats it. Thats all i wanted to say about him.

The humour — FUCKING HILARIOUS im convinced that in my fifty hour playtime, five of that is dedicated to me laughing and unable to continue the game 

Akira — so much personality! His lines of dialogue are crazy sometimes (like. Whats up with him saying Ryuji has ‘nice abs’ when they were in bath? Im crazy and even i dont know what the fuck that could mean) 

Battle system — oh my god i almost forgot to talk about this. I love it! I kind of miss the turn based aspect just because i found it very comforting for some reason, but this hack and slash style of gameplay is so invigorating because i do feel like it justifies shit like the baton pass and huge attacks.  This battle system fully encompases how the Phantom Thieves are supposed to fight, you know what i mean?

Anyway, thats my thoughts on strikers. Loved it. Amazing. 9.3/10, wouldve been higher but Konoe’s Jail almost bored me to death. Also im a monster and i didnt do any requests that isn’t a fun one, teehee. As if i play persona 5 for the persona aspect of things.

[radramblog]

Ultimate^2

Super Smash Brothers Ultimate has finally unveiled its final DLC character, with reactions ranging fully across the spectrum. Hot takes abound.

I mean, statistically, just about every possible opinion is going to be represented. There were at least 500,000 people watching the reveal stream, and that’s not including those viewing through restreams. That’s insane for a trailer of any kind, let alone for a console-exclusive video game DLC.

Now that it’s been like… a day and a bit, I think most of the spciest takes have probably been made, which is the perfect time for me to chip in with my own milder opinion. More of a butter chicken, really.

(no images in this one i’m lazy tonight)

I figure I’m this late already, might as well drop some notes on the other ones first.

Piranha Plant was kind of the definition of an unexpected pick. Not only was it from an already well-represented franchise, being fucking Mario, it’s also just…not a character. As such it makes an odd choice for a DLC fighter…except for the part where it was free. If you owned the game in its first month. And frankly, I don’t think people would have been happy if it wasn’t. As it is, though, it’s a perfectly fine character- surprisingly cute, actually.

I’m unsurprised about Joker’s inclusion. With how huge Persona 5 became in both Japan and the west, capitalizing on it to make a shitload of money makes perfect sense. The character plays well enough, though the meter gimmick was kind of a daunting sign of things to come. All that in mind, though, the most surprising thing about Joker being in the game is that they still haven’t put P5 on the Switch. Atlus please.

Hero and Banjo/Kazooie were announced on the same night, and I distinctly recall someone saying that this was one for the Japanese audience and one for the Americans. I mean, I’ve never played Dragon Quest, so I guess I fell into the latter? Both series have a long, well-regarded pedigree (Banjo’s lack of recent offerings notwithstanding), so both arguably deserve their respective positions. Hero is the much more notable character gameplaywise, though, with the incredibly complex mana and spellcasting mechanics. Complaints about RNG in Smash aren’t completely unfounded- though it has existed in the past in the form of, say, Luigi’s misfiring side-B- but I know a lot of people think Hero took it too far. If I’m honest, though, the weirdest thing is just having Akira Toriyama-ass 3D models in the game. Banjo’s gameplay is…awkward. The kit is kind of a mess, but at least the gimmicks weren’t going too hard, you know?

Next was Terry, perhaps the most obscure character on the entire list in 2021. I actually really like Terry in this game- while he’s still trying to emulate a similar feel to Ryu/Ken, the difference feels more natural, if that makes sense. Maybe it’s because I’ve never really devoted significant time to them, but Terry’s kit feels easier to work within than the Shotos when going between characters.

Finally for the first Pass, we had Byleth. I think it’s for the best that they announced the second Fighter’s Pass before this released, because if both 4 and Ultimate had ended their run on Fire Emblem DLCs then people would have been pissed. I mean, people were already pissed, but like…moreso. As someone who has played Three Houses, I do think the game is worth celebrating, but having yet another Fire Emblem Protagonist (read: basically a blank slate) in the game over all the substantially more interesting characters 3H has to offer is just really frustrating. Also the final smash looks like dogshit, like FE3H has overall worse animations than Smash for obvious reasons but I’m pretty sure this attack looked better the first time around.

FP2 opened with Min Min, which brings ARMS to the table. ARMS. The only first-party fighting game Nintendo has outside of Smash, so it looks a bit less weird next to everything else but…come on, man. I think this was the most confusing pick of all of them- the game came out in 2017, and having Min Min in Smash would serve as promotion for a sequel…which hasn’t been announced. There was a graphic novel in the works, but it was cancelled earlier this year. Oops? At least the stage was fun.

As much as playing them is awkward and complex, the Minecraft addition was fitting. Only the best-selling game around. I think people weren’t sure if Microsoft would go for it, but they let us have Banjo, so sure. I’m mostly just annoyed that they couldn’t get any of the songs from the actual game in there- like, you got one in from the fucking mobile game, but you couldn’t just get C418 on the phone?

Sephiroth is definitely one of the hype-ier releases from this pass. The character is iconic, as is his theme and his home game. I’ve never played any Final Fantasy game, but I can still respect the name. Once I remember how to spell it. The whole bossfight aspect to his release was also quite cool, while it lasted.

On the other hand, I have no love for Pyra nor Mythra. There’s so much wrong with these ones, frankly. They’re another swordy character, immediately following Sephiroth too, and they go back on Smash’s very deliberate decision to split characters like Zelda/Sheik and Samus/ZSS up (Yes I know Pokemon Trainer does the same thing but I have a lot more leniency for them). Add in their being from a JRPG much less well-known or remembered than the previous couple characters and the designs being…questionable, I have a big issue with the whole thing. This was also around when I kinda stopped playing the game in general, and they definitely didn’t help pull me back in.

Kazuya might have, though. With the exception of him and Sephiroth, all the characters from the Fighter’s Passes were pretty much protagonist-types, but this motherfucker pulses with the essence of bad guy. What I’m saying is that he’s fucking cool, and while he’s ludicrously complex, that makes perfect sense since…I mean just look at the combo lists from Tekken 7. His inclusion also kinda rounds out the list of biggest fighting game franchises out there being rep’d in the game, though I imagine now I’m going to have stans from Mortal Kombat or whatever on my back. They’re not going to put a fatality-capable character in Smash, guys!

Finally, this rounds us around to the original point of this article. Let’s talk about Sora. And by that I mean…I don’t really have a huge amount to say about him. Kingdom Hearts is a franchise that completely passed me by growing up, and I don’t think I have the time or energy to devote to it now. I’m sure it’s good, people seemed really excited for him to be in the game so they have to have gotten that love from somewhere, but I don’t share that feeling.

That’s not to say that I don’t think he deserves a slot. The idea of “deserving a slot” in Smash Bros is kind of an odd concept, even though it’s come up a lot so far this post. But a slot in this roster isn’t just a place in a popular fighting game, because at this point, Smash is kind of a museum of (mostly Nintendo) games- and so having representation is a forever acknowledgment that the franchise is, or has been, an icon to so many. Kingdom Hearts, to my knowledge, has 100% earned that position, and so Sora getting to be playable here makes perfect sense. He wasn’t my pick (Touhou representation never I guess), but I’m happy for those who wanted him.

As far as the actual gameplay looks, he reads like a character that kept in mind what people didn’t like about Hero when he released. It’s another sword-based character, which I think at this point speaks more about the demographic of video game characters than it does about Smash. But I appreciate that the Magic Bullshit is toned down, and that it’s also his only real gimmick (The 3-hit combo feature is A Thing, but other characters e.g. Bayonetta have already done that, so whatever). His recovery potential looks patently absurd- like he just gets Pikachu/Pichu’s Up-B as a Side-B that can also be chained with his actual Up-B? This guy better be light as hell or he’s going to be super hard to take out. I dunno, I think he looks solidly fun enough- more dynamic and aerial than the other swordfighters, at least- and that’s good enough for me.

And I guess that marks the end of Smash Ultimate. Not with a bang, but with a key…dude. It’s been a very solid run, the game managing to keep itself fresh across several years of development, even as other games have risen and fallen. Smash is kind of forever at this point, I think, though the finality of Ultimate’s ultimate character implies that this particular iteration may be coming to its end. And seeing as it is always one Smash per console, I wouldn’t be shocked if the Switch itself was nearing its endgame as well.

Okay but also it’s pretty funny how they heavily censored everything Disney out of Sora’s DLC except for that little Mickey charm on the trailer, like how much must that one shot have cost them, was it even remotely worth it, I don’t know but I kinda want to

[canescm]

so i played Dauntless

this’ll be a little bit text-heavy, i have a lot on my mind TL;DR : it’s a fun hunting game, if it’s fully functioning.

note : i play on ps4

the good :

character model, especially the body. good gog they modeled such a nice well-toned body, what an eye candy.

interesting weapons. not many types to choose, but i love all their designs. they’re mixed well with the world’s setting. 

you can interrupt some behemoth’s attacks, which is very fun

you can jump onto goats and... kinda dance XD (i doubt this is intentional though, but still i love it)

it IS a fun game, i do enjoy playing (despite all my complaints, lol.) and it isn’t MH clone like some people think, pretty much it’s own thing.

the bad :

bugs. heck this game has a lot of bugs, if a normal game with little case of bugs is functioning at 95-100%, this game’d be at 75-80%, if you’ll get me. this game would be so much better if it wasn’t for all this bugs.

(i might be wrong about this one since i have zero knowledge in this field) connection to servers is quite unstable. while it didn’t make the game unplayable but it’s things that no one would want to deal with, you can have whole 2-3 seconds delayed reaction of being staggered, equipment’s info take forever to load in, etc.

since there’s no control configuration, this game pretty much ruin my ability to play MHW properly, the controls are all different buttons.

all areas are confusing, some less than the other but still confusing. i feel like i know the place, but at the same time have no idea where i am. what worst is that the maps aren’t even make me feel like exploring.

LEDGES. for the love of gog please fix the ledges.

the i-will-respect-the-design-choices-but-i-hope-these-can-be-change-somehow :

ok so... this game doesn’t have any weapon that can guard, you either have to git gud at dodging (which isn’t too hard, but still) or have a really high attack power and kill things faster than it kills you. HOWEVER you have (very) limited number of healing (be it items or area’s healing thingy), no restock. see something here? it’s not something i can’t live with, it’s just... the logic seems flawed to me, if you know what i mean.

in-game money has next to no value. all its use is just to upgrade equipment, but since this game wants you to also grind for materials, by the time you get everything needed you’ll have too much money you won’t ever be needing to worry about it in your life time. it’s not bad, but to me it feels a bit unbalanced.

i have a love-hate relationship with the idea that you can fall from the isles (fyi : the maps is like shattered isles floating in the sky), it effect how you approach the fight, which is interesting design, but at the same time it’s such a bad thing to have areas with lots of gap to nothingness. i really do hate those areas.

a mini map would be nice.

you break the behemoth’s part but sometimes you don’t get the material.

the way you can bump into surroundings (including your TEAMMATES) is... bad. seriously i’ve never hate trees in any game as much as this one.

i don’t really like late-game grind, got no problem with rare drops, but the amount of upgrading materials you need and what you get from one fight is just... ugh.

that should be all.

to me, Dauntless is a good game that hasn’t quite... complete yet, currently it’s not a game to be played for a prolonged period of time, since things get wonky here and there, which can be very bad for mental health, but i do hope it will continue to grow and be even better.

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

WARNING: Elsanna. Sensual footrub. Also, copious fluffiness elsewhere.

As I said in my Queen of Temperance update, it's going to be a little slower during November due to NaNo. Also, if you want to help me avoid bankruptcy you can donate to me at: Ko-Fi dot com slash jxsleator!

CHAPTER 10

The next morning, Anna was awoken by a gentle hand in the small of her back. It took her a few minutes for the state of her life to come back to her, but eventually the details filtered into her brain. And they began to stir the most wonderful glow of happiness in the middle of her chest.

"Mmmmhhh," she moaned into the pillow, eyes still closed but lips beginning to pull into a smile. "God, sexy, let me wake up enough to go down on you first."

"Oh? Well, with an offer like that, maybe I can delete my profile."

Anna's eyes shot wide. That was definitely not Jennifer. She didn't even have to guess who it was. Gulping, she slowly rolled over onto her back, gazing up at Elsa's bemused face. She could feel the cool air of late Autumn on her bare chest and shoulders, only somewhat deterred by the heating.

"I… um…"

"Thought I was Jennifer," she finished easily for her, being kind enough to suppress her belly laugh. "Still, you might want to be more careful who you say things like that to, Anna."

"MOM! Shit, I didn't mean- holy Christ, I'm sorry! Damn… how hard did I crash that I couldn't even tell it was you?"

One of her shoulders shrugged. Now she could tell that Elsa was fully-dressed, and she normally wouldn't be on a Sunday morning – either version of her. Though occasionally that other Mom made it to church, even then she wouldn't look this nice. "Probably pretty hard after all that screaming last night."

Instantly, Anna's face heated up. She also became intimately aware that she was still naked, that her breasts were responding to the cool morning air. And Elsa hadn't looked away. She wasn't staring down Anna's boobs, but they would most definitely have been in her periphery.

Elsa seemed to become aware of it at the same moment, because she took a step back from the bed. "Just wanted to let you know that I'll be out of the house for most of the morning. I have a few errands to run but I'll be back later."

"Ugh, you couldn't have just left a message?" Anna complained, rolling over. Yep, there was Jennifer, the little spoon and still fast asleep.

"I could have, but this was more fun," Elsa laughed. Anna gave a groan and pressed her head further into Punz's back.

"Bye, Mom."

Elsa's chuckle could be heard all down the hallway. Then, there was the sound of the front door opening and closing, and finally, quiet. Anna took a breath, then sighed… and was completely shocked when Punz sat up, very obviously not asleep.

"Well… that was super awkward."

"You were awake?" Anna groaned feebly, still trying to burrow into the waistband of Punz's jeans. They had never come off, though everything else had.

"Yeah. Um… I kinda figured it would be easier if I just kept my mouth shut and waited for her to leave, instead of turning around and showing your mom my nip-nops."

"True. Like… ugh, I really thought she was you, since I fell asleep next to you… how dumb am I? I was already hugging you, that doesn't make any sense!"

Punz giggled and rolled more fully to embrace her. "Not dumb. Sleepy. It's okay, you know." Then she pressed a very gentle kiss to Anna's nose, eyes dancing with humour. "It was cute, and funny. Don't sweat it, McFly."

"Well…" There was really no point in fighting her on that. Shrugging one shoulder, she drew her girlfriend in for a long hug. "I guess even though my mom had to stare at my boobs while she teased me about screaming last night is still better than how my old mom would have reacted."

At that, she heard another sigh from Punz – this one a lot less amused. "Yeah… not that I know what she's like from personal experience, but… sounds pretty bad."

"Yeah. I'm glad I messed up the timeline thing, I guess. Weird and unhealthy as letting her go down on me was, it kind of… fixed my life. For the most part."

"It hasn't come without some problems though…" Punz commented. Anna shrugged.

"Trust me when I say that this is much better than before."

Punz merely looked at her for a second before saying, "Okay." Just like that. There was an awkward silence shared between them before it became too great, and Punz broke it. "So, breakfast? What do you feel like?"

Chuckling, Anna rolled so she could more properly look at her girlfriend. "You," she said simply before kissing her. Punz didn't have a single complaint.

                                ~ o ~

By the time they actually got out of bed, it was no longer time for breakfast and was actually venturing past brunch and well into a full-fledged lunch. Luckily, Elsa wasn't around to further poke fun at them. Good-natured as it was, Anna preferred to avoid further embarrassment. Which was probably why she still wasn't back yet, to be fair; she could be remarkably perceptive like that.

Once they had dug up some cereal and fixed themselves a couple of bowls, they took turns showering quickly – still a little shy of each other to jump right into sharing a bath like that. Elsa came back while Punz was still finishing in the bathroom, and Anna was seated in the living room watching TV, to give her space. She had a couple of bags of things, and Anna popped up to help her.

"Thank you," she said with a slight smile as they got the bags onto the kitchen counter. "Whoo… sometimes I want to sign up for one of those delivery services, but it just seems like such a waste of money."

"Yeah, I guess." Elsa McFly, even just contemplating not doing something for herself, sounded very odd to her ears.

"How did you two get along while I was gone? Sleep in a bit more?"

"Um, yeah. A little. Then we ate breakf- uhhh, brunch, and Punz is just finishing her shower."

The coy smile was back. She knew it wouldn't stay away for long. "Surprised you didn't join her."

"We thought about it. But… I dunno, we're… taking our time, kind of. Spacing out the big events or whatever."

"I get you." After putting away a loaf of sweet brioche, which Anna didn't even know what that was much less expect her mother to get one, she turned and cupped her cheek. "Please don't feel weird about any of this. I just want you two to feel comfortable here. Safe, accepted."

Anna's eyes fell down. She appreciated the sentiment, and couldn't help the smile that formed when Elsa leaned forward to kiss her softly on the forehead. "Thanks, Mom," she said. "I mean, I don't think we'll be able to talk Mrs Punzel into being this cool. Though I think we'll wait for you to uh… not be here next time."

"Perhaps that would be for the best." The shower stopped running, and Elsa dropped her hands. Giving a smile, she returned to the other side of the counter. "Now, why don't you help your poor old mother put away the groceries?" she asked. Anna snorted.

"Please, Mom, you're not that old. And even if you are, like… daaaaamn."

Instead of admonishing her for cursing, Elsa just winked.

                                ~ o ~

Ten minutes later saw Punz join them, hair damp but drying, wearing a cute outfit that the other version of Jennifer Punzel would never have been caught dead in. There was flannel. It was hot.

"Where'd you get that?" she asked with a slight grin as Elsa brewed them some tea. Punz dropped into a chair at the dinner table with a grin.

"From your closet, dumbass. Why, do you like it?" When Anna nodded, her grin got even wider. "I'm glad."

"It suits you," Elsa said from the kitchen. Punz started a little. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

But Jennifer shook her head. "N-nah, it's your house. I just jumped since you were gone when I woke up."

Letting out a soft, contented sigh, Anna reached across the table and took up both of her girlfriend's hands, squeezing them and staring into her eyes. It didn't take very long to see her relax. Then she said, "I should have warned you; that's on me."

"I said it's fine, God!" But she was smiling again. "Anyway, what did I miss?"

"Not much," Elsa called out to them. "Groceries. And you two don't have to feel like you need to hang around here all day just to keep me company; I'd love to entertain you, but I could just as easily get some work around the house done while you're out."

With a light shrug, she asked, "What do you think, Punz?"

Once more, Punz started, though this was more from surprise than shock. It wasn't until Elsa stood in the door to the kitchen, a tea towel in one hand and a wet glass in the other that she started to answer.

"I uh, well," she began. "I don't really- I was thinking… you're cooler than I thought you'd be."

The final few words were said in such a rush that Anna almost missed it. Elsa did not. Her cheeks pinked, a very faint colour that gave away just how pleased she was at the compliment, and her hands stilled. Punz had blushed a little, as well – she probably hadn't meant to tell Elsa at all, but out it came.

Luckily, Anna was there to at least attempt to dispel the awkwardness with a, "So, I guess the 'hang with Mom' votes have it." She gave a grin that tried to be cheeky but was slightly closer to 'uneasy'. It was a combination of the conversation this morning and the way Elsa had held her before that was the cause.

"Well, then," Elsa said, returning to the glass. It was absolutely dry by now, but no one wanted to mention it. "Why don't I finish what I'm doing and you girls can think of something for us to do?"

She didn't wait for a response, instead simply turning on her heel and retreating out of sight. In a much quieter voice, Anna whispered, "You really wanna hang out with my mom? I mean… I'm game for it if you are, but you don't have to just for me. Seriously."

"Nah, it's cool. I mean, she's always seemed like a good mom to you and that kind of thing, but I never… well, she's old. OldER! She's so much older that I didn't expect to enjoy hanging out with her more than with my own mom, I guess."

By that point, Anna was trying not to burst out laughing in her face. Deciding to be productive instead of making Punz feel any worse, she leaned in and kissed her cheek. "It's a good thing. So what do you think? Maybe we all go out to dinner, or… I dunno, bowling? What do you do with your suddenly-not-terrible mom and your girlfriend?"

"Um, you got me. Another movie? But at a theater this time? What did your mom like to do in the 80s?"

'Me,' Anna thought with slight skip over a heartbeat. But she decided that was better left unsaid. "Well, I don't think she'd be interested in another house party. Let's start with going out for lunch and figure it out from there?"

                                ~ o ~

So that's precisely what they did. Simple food at Applebee's, then they ended up popping into a Goodwill for an hour or so. Both Elsa and her daughter could better appreciate some of the 80s styles and artefacts, and Jennifer laughed to watch them with this new shared interest. She sneakily got them an old Bangles vinyl, and they both gushed over it enough to make it clear it had been a good choice.

Anna felt a lot of mixed feelings when her girlfriend emerged from the dressing room wearing a tube top and a leather miniskirt. All she could think of was Elsa, and in the wrong ways. Of course, Elsa's only reaction was to laugh and clap, then remark that the look suited her; she didn't seem to hold those same feelings that it was too reminiscent of their 'affair' from the past. Which only made sense, given those fashion choices had simply been a part of life for her all the time, not specifically tied to a week-long affair.

Then they settled on a bowling alley to cap off their night. As it turned out, Elsa and Kristoff had spent a lot of evenings this way, and she wiped the floor with the younger girls. Maybe she wasn't good enough to go professional, but it was enough to discourage them slightly.

"I'm sorry," the woman was laughing at their dejected faces as they picked at the pizza they had ordered sent to their lane. "Best of five?"

The girls didn't do any better than before, but after the first game neither were actually trying to win. It was all just about having fun – and they did. When Anna slipped on the waxed floor, crashing onto her butt and just sitting there afterward, both Elsa and Punz simply looked at each other for a second before breaking into laughter. Anna had acted affronted, but really she was just grateful that her mother and her girlfriend were getting along as well as they were.

It certainly made the pain in her backside worth it – doubly so when she hobbled over to them, grumbling, and they both tried to make her feel better with hugs and a few light cheek-kisses. It certainly worked.

In the end, Elsa completely annihilated them, but there were no hard feelings whatsoever. Seeing Elsa so full of life wasn't so strange anymore – seeing her actually living was, a bit.

"I kinda wanna do this every weekend," Anna said as they sat down to pull their shoes off.

"Perhaps not every weekend," her mother said with a pleasant smile, taking a moment to rub one of her feet before she slipped her own shoes back on, setting the bowling shoes in the seat next to her. "But now and then, I think it makes for a wonderful change of pace."

Nodding vigorously, Jennifer paused to take a long drink of her soda. "Like, might get boring if we did it all the time. But we could do other stuff! Of course, Merida and Jane might start to get jelly. Or we could invite them along…"

"I don't think that'd work the same way, Punz," Anna laughed.

"Why not?"

"Because… I mean, they don't know about the, um…"

She glanced at Elsa, who was gazing back at her with a knowing gleam. It made her want to kiss her. Even after everything they had been through that weekend, she still felt that slight pull… probably always would. But she could resist. That was what she was learning, thanks to her mother's years of expertise: knowing they wanted to do things, but also knowing it wasn't required.

"Ah… good point," Punz was saying as she finished pulling on her sneakers and standing up. "But hey, they don't know what they're missing."

"Well, thank you very much, Jennifer," Elsa said, and Anna could tell she meant it. The small, sweet smile gave it away. "Now then, I think we should drop you off and head home. Or…"

"Or?"

"Or we could drop by a frozen yoghurt stand before we call it a night?"

There was no complaint from either girl. The cheeky smile on Elsa's face was infectious, and only a little unexpected now. It seemed that Punz wasn't the only one surprising Anna. If she has to guess, she'd say that Elsa also enjoyed spending time with Jennifer.

The thought made sure her smile didn't vanish, and it remained on her face all the way to the local froyo place. It was new – at least, it hadn't existed in the other McFly timeline. It was a cute place, too; kitsch and cozy, It was also quite empty. The only other person around was a bored, bespectacled teenager who frankly seemed a little too excited that they finally had customers.

Punz chose a seat close to the window – not that much could be seen. The sun had set and Anna hadn't realised how late it had become. The time had flown by so effortlessly while she'd been surrounded by her girlfriend and her mother. It was nice. Really, it was better than she had dared to dream.

The good feeling followed them both all the way back to the Punzel house, and was only very slightly marred by Anna having to say goodbye to her for the day. Tomorrow, they would be in class together.

On the way home, Anna leaned her head on Elsa's shoulder and she wasn't pushed away. She felt her mother tense for a moment, but then relaxed easily enough, even leaning over to press a gentle kiss into the top of her head. The perfect weekend.

Back at the house, Elsa immediately went for the bedroom, and Anna understood. This was pretty late for both of them given how early they needed to be up. She wanted to ask if they could snuggle for a while, but they both knew what that could lead to. Maybe it was best that they not.

Still, her head was filled with memories of how good Punz had made her feel as she got ready and slipped into her own sheets. Ones she was going to cherish forever.

                                ~ o ~

"Okay, be honest. Now that we're alone… you really had fun?"

Punz rolled her eyes as they made their way down the hall. "I said I did, didn't I? Your mom's pretty great. She was before, but like, she also did that mom thing where they act like you're 'too young' to hang out with them. But I think… this was how she would be all along. The Elsa McFly I know, anyway; couldn't say anything about the one you grew up with.

Anna couldn't say much about that version, either. But, it seemed as though Punz wanted something, and how could Anna refuse her? The mere fact that Punz was accepting all of this as true was a miracle unto itself; providing details was the least she could do.

"She was…nice. When she was sober, which wasn't often. I think- well, it felt like she blamed me for how crummy her life had been, but I think now she just hated herself…"

A memory surfaced: walking out the front door on a cold Saturday, Elsa crying, watching her go. Anna had said she'd be back, had promised. She hoped that version of Elsa no longer existed. That she wasn't part of a sad alternate timeline. She hadn't been a great mom, or even a really great person. But maybe she still deserved a bit of peace…

"Do you think it would be weird for me to say… that I feel more like my real mom died, and this is like, her aunt? Like an aunt that acts a lot like my mom, because they grew up together, but isn't my mom?"

Punz was staring at Anna with wide eyes. As a few kids passed them in the hall, she steered Anna over to the water fountain and lowered her voice. "Maybe weird. But the situation is weird, so like, I don't think any worse of you for feeling that way. She's not the woman who raised you; I mean, she is, but she's not. Crazy."

"Yeah, pretty crazy."

"Not that you're crazy, or she is. Just the situation. You got that part, right?"

Smiling, Anna caught up her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Yeah. Hear you loud and clear. So you really want to hang out with us again next weekend? Not just say 'hi' to her and then we go do our own thing?"

"Well… I would like to do our own thing. Especially if that means me doing you." The huge grin made Anna dip her head slightly and fight to suppress a giggle. "But maybe we can kinda do what we did this weekend; hang out with her but have time to ourselves in there somewhere."

"I like that plan. And we'll have to figure out what else we can do besides bowling. I mean, stuff that a pushing-fifty mom would be okay doing, so probably not hitting the club."

"We can't even hit the club," she snorted. "Not without wearing the 'I'm a baby' marks on the backs of our hands to keep us from boozing it."

"Would that be so bad?" Anna asked. Punz's smile dropped just a fraction.

"Oh… oh yeah… wow, I'm sorry, I didn't mean t-"

"But!" Anna interrupted her, just as the first bell rang, "we can still do things like… ice skating and movies and stuff. And clubbing, if that's something you want to do without boozing?"

The sudden mass of students tramping through the hall meant that Punz couldn't answer properly. And besides, Mr Weselton was suddenly very interested in the bubbler and was most definitely not keeping an eye on the two girls standing next to it. One red-haired devil in particular.

Punz didn't seem to notice him, and gave an easy smile instead. Glancing at the toupeéd teacher, Anna cleared her throat. She would have loved to keep chatting, but another detention wasn't worth it.

"I'll see you later?" Anna asked, opening her arms and leaning forward. The hug was completely circumvented when Punz managed to duck her arms and instead plant a kiss on her cheek.

"Sure thing," she said as her feet carried her down the hallway. "I'll see you at lunch!"

A dazed smile on her face, Anna waved her goodbye. She was very nearly late to class. Nearly.

                                ~ o ~

Unfortunately, Anna had a ton of homework that evening, so she skipped hanging out with Punz right away. Ordinarily, she might have blown it off, but she felt like she owed it to this reality's Anna to keep her grades up now. Maybe it was also partly that she had enjoyed so much of her weekend that she didn't want to risk bad karma taking over.

All in all, she was satisfied when she shoved her books back into her bag. Not anything that would win an award but satisfactory for an average student. Therefore, she didn't feel bad that she was watching TV when Elsa got home.

"Oh, there she is," she sighed tiredly as she dropped her purse next to the coat rack, then walked into the kitchen. She looked very well put-together in her grey suit with its pleated skirt, but also like she was ready to not be as soon as possible.

"Here I is." The laugh from the kitchen was weak but at least it was a laugh. "How was your day, dear?"

"It was lovely, husband. Just long." The smirk from their banter was still on her face when she reappeared with a bottle of water. Anna couldn't help saying a silent prayer of thanks that it wasn't bottle of Jack.

"Come sit."

"Can't, I have to get dinner started."

"Nah," she urged, waving her hands at her mother to join her on the couch. "Just a couple minutes. I'm not super hungry."

"You might not be, but I certainly am," Elsa said. Still, she walked over and plonked next to Anna, giving a grateful groan as she kicked off her shoes. Anna grinned.

"How was your day really?" she asked again. "Full story."

Elsa didn't answer at first – she had just uncapped the bottle and was taking a long swig. The sight was making Anna feel a little thirsty. By the time she finished, half the bottle was gone. Anna didn't give her a chance to re-cap it because she simply plucked it from her mother's hands and began drinking the rest. It seemed to take Elsa a moment to gather herself before she could answer.

"O-oh, you know the drill. Paperwork. Clients." But Anna shook her head.

"I don't. What do you do? Because the other Elsa… didn't do much…"

"You mean, she didn't have a job?" Elsa clarified, and Anna gave a half-hearted shrug.

"Yeah. No job, or life. She didn't really have friends, either. She left the house for a weekly bingo game that she never won, sometimes went to church if she wasn't hung over, and to do the groceries. We had a freezer cabinet so she'd buy a tonne of frozen lasagnes and pizzas and stuff…"

"Ah… well, that's one style of parenting, I suppose." She didn't say whether or not she approved or disapproved of her alternate self's methods. Stretching out her legs with a slight groan, she propped them on the coffee table. "I work in real estate. Some of it's on the phone in the office, but I had a lot of running around today. Showed a couple of places."

"A realtor, huh?" That didn't sound much like the young Elsa she knew, but then again, this one was just as dedicated to her family as her own mother. So it was hardly surprising she kind of 'fell into' a job that suited her, rather than choosing one that was her true passion.

"Right," she groaned slowly, sagging down into the couch. "It pays the bills, and I generally like my coworkers. And my hours can be a little flexible, so it's been great for the family. Some days just feel long, that's all." After a moment, she crossed one leg closer and started rubbing at her foot. "Nhh… how was school? How's Jennifer, how's the band?"

Shrugging, she set the empty bottle down on the coffee table. A private smile blossomed on her face; it was nice for her mom to be taking an interest. Very weird still, but nice. "Not bad. Didn't see the band much, but Punz is looking forward to more Elsa-time."

"That's sweet," she laughed, genuinely amused by the thought. "I'm the Cool Mom, I guess. Weird but a good thing."

"Yeah. Um, I could do that for you."

"Do what?" It took several seconds for Elsa to switch conversational gears and realise what her daughter meant, and she laughed. "Oh, no… don't worry about it, I'll be fine. Just give it a few minutes and the aches will subside."

"It's really no big deal," Anna promised her as she reached to start kneading her thumbs into Elsa's sole.

"Mmmm…" Elsa hummed, head falling back and whole body slumping. "Wow that… feels really nice…"

Grinning, Anna didn't bother to respond verbally. Instead, all she did was dig her thumbs in a little harder, untangling the knots that had developed in the tortured appendage.

For a few minutes, the only sound was Elsa's contented sighs as Anna dug into the sole of her foot. Anna had been right – it was no big deal. That very thought seemed to have Elsa relaxing further, simply enjoying the relief. But then Anna began moving her hand up, working into the arch of Elsa's foot. The sound of pleasure she gave was no longer a sigh – it was a moan.

A very familiar-sounding one. Both women paused for a moment, faces red as they stared at one another. And then Anna did it again. The sound Elsa made shot straight to her core, and she almost wanted to cry out herself. She wanted to let Elsa know how it made her feel. But Elsa didn't want to know, so she said nothing. If asked, she could attribute this to not knowing – after all, Elsa wasn't exactly telling her to stop. Quite the contrary, actually.

"Anna!" Elsa gasped, and it was probably supposed to be an admonishment. It wasn't – the way Elsa's voice quivered, holding the vowels and squirming… it really wasn't.

"It's just a foot rub, Mom," Anna said softly. Perhaps the use of her title and not her name helped, because Elsa wasn't as loud for a moment. Or… maybe it was because she was the only one acting in such a way and felt too conspicuous with it pointed out.

As Anna swapped feet, not wanting to focus too much on one side, she reflected for a moment on how much of a difference it made to Elsa when she used her name as opposed to her title. And vice versa, with "Tori". She idly wondered why it mattered so much to her; was she really so hard to distinguish from Tori, the girl of her mother's dreams, the one who got away? Elsa kept saying that they could "get past this" or "get over it" but the more Anna tested her, the more it became apparent that, for Elsa at least, the opposite had been true. And now here she was, on the receiving end of an increasingly-erotic foot massage.

"Ahhh… agahgod." The moans were returning. She pressed in again, her thumb slipping right into the sensitive area under the arch of Elsa's foot. "Ohhhhh, To-"

Elsa sat bolt upright, tearing her foot out of Anna's hands, her face flush and mildly mortified. "Anna!" she said hotly. "I… we… Jennifer!" she mumbled, as if that somehow constituted an objection, an admonishment and a complete sentence.

"You're thinking about Jennifer at a time like this?" Anna quipped, to hide her sinking heart – even if it was still pounding with adrenaline. "Besides, like I said, it's only a massage. Don't get so…"

It wasn't much of a defense. They both knew how it sounded, even though it was supposed to be something purely innocent. But Elsa was already clearing her throat and taking several deep breaths, trying to get herself back under control.

"Alright… alright." Pressing a hand into her face for a moment, she then began to laugh very weakly. "Ohhhh, this is impossible. It's impossible!"

"What's impossible? Oh, here, just… stop…" Frustrated with her own inability to say what she meant, Anna just grabbed for Elsa's foot and began to knead again.

"ANNA! Stop, just… mmhhh, it's so good though…"

For a minute, she merely bit her lip and fought down making any further sounds. Anna found herself doing the same; it was really difficult. She had been hoping to prove to both of them that they could handle a simple massage, especially one somewhere as silly as a foot; it wasn't like she was massaging her back while she was nude under a towel! But somehow, her thumbs grinding into her mother's toe joints turned out just as bad. She would have thought it was a ludicrous idea if she wasn't living it at that exact moment.

"Ooh… okay, I think… I'm better," Elsa finally whimpered. By that point, she had fully turned on the couch and was reclining with her feet in Anna's lap. "I'm so sorry… overreacting, I didn't mean…"

"I know," Anna whispered with a slight smile. "Seriously… I totally get it. We're just going to have to get used to stuff like that, right? Like you were saying." Not that she fully believed that, but she was trying her best.

Elsa bit her lip and nodded. "I uh… I should probably get dinner sorted," she finally said, scrambling away. "I better- better go do that…"

Heart falling again briefly, Anna nodded back. She wasn't really hungry anymore, but realised that Elsa needed an out. Watching through the door as her mother fretted about the kitchen, it became startlingly obvious that she needed to… feel like a mother again.

God, what were they doing? And why weren't they doing more? It was fast becoming obvious that what they were doing was not working, and that really only left them with two options: give into their feelings, or see a psychiatrist. And really, only one of those options was even plausible because Elsa completely refused to entertain the thought of the other.

"Mom…" Anna began, softly. Elsa ignored her. "Mom!" she tried again, and Elsa froze for just a second. When she finally looked up, it was with incredible hesitancy.

"Yes, Anna?" Elsa said. Succeeded in not reminding Anna of her 17-year-old counterpart, so that was a plus, she supposed.

Anna couldn't do it. She couldn't demand anything of her mother, not like this. No matter how she felt herself. The timing was not at all right; the poor woman looked so fragile, as if she needed to be domestic right now to keep from drowning in self-flagellation and anxiety. Swallowing, she looked away for a second. "I just… you look really nice. Happy, I mean."

Elsa smiled, small and grateful. "Thank you, Anna," she said, and she obviously meant it. She also seemed happy that Anna hadn't said anything else. Perhaps she knew what was on her daughter's mind. Either way, she didn't mention it. Instead, she brushed straight past it, and the still-lingering awkwardness of earlier. "Now, did you want curry or stroganoff for dinner tonight?"

"Hmm…" Anna hummed, silently still amazed they weren't defrosting a handful of Lean Cuisines. "Stroganoff. Pasta sounds better than rice, I think."

"Stroganoff it is," Elsa agreed. "Now, come and give your poor mother a hand. I can't chop the onions without crying, so I'll need you to take that bullet for me."

There was an easy banter as they prepped the meal, even though the onion fume had them both sobbing into the food – at least until it was cooked. Though all the while, something was slightly different about Elsa's demeanor. She was happy, and cheerful, and joking as she always did. But in between those moments, Anna would catch a sadness in her eyes that had been gone for the past week. Only existing right after they first realised what they were to each other in the present day.

Tori and Elsa. The starcrossed lovers that could never reunite. Anna half still wanted to throw herself at her mother and worry about the consequences later, because she seemed to need her the same way she needed to be domestic a moment ago. But that would go against her wishes. It wasn't easy, but she was trying to respect those as much as she could.

Once they had eaten, Anna worked up the courage to try again. But she decided to approach it differently than the random accusation she had going to fling at her mother. It was unfair, after all, but she couldn't just stay silent.

"So…" Elsa stiffened slightly as she rinsed off the dishes to go into the dishwasher, hands slowing down to a snail's pace. "Um, I'm sorry about earlier. But I think it got to be pretty okay toward the end, right? Like… we worked past the… weirdness?"

"Of course, Anna," she said with a slight smile. "Guess I just have sensitive tootsies. It's no one's fault, really."

Nodding, her daughter took the next stack and began putting them in the dishwasher. "Right. But I liked doing that for you. Making you feel good in a…" She gave a little chuckle. "Well, I was gonna say 'non-sexual way', but maybe a less-sexual way? Um, it was…"

"It was," Elsa admitted, eyes going distant as she thought back on it. "I don't know where you learned to do that. Not from me."

"Punz gave me a footrub once. I didn't react to it the way you did, though. But like… I was just kinda guessing. I really did a good job?"

"You really did."

And Anna believed her. Because by now, her mother had taken off her suit jacket, and she could see very vague shapes standing at strong relief on her peaks through the fabric of her blouse.

Had she done it on purpose? Reason told Anna the Elsa hadn't – that she didn't realise exactly what she was giving away. But further examining of her logic said something different. Elsa had to know how her body had reacted. This wasn't something that could simply be blamed on the weather. She wondered how often Elsa thought of Tori. Had she truly reconciled the fact that Tori and Anna were one and the same? Or was she like Anna – knowing they were, but her body reacted as though they were two separate beings. Is that how Elsa had managed to move past the 'I ate out my daughter' guilt?

But… perhaps Elsa hadn't moved past it. A scenario Anna hadn't quite fully envisioned before popped into her head: Elsa knew how her body was reacting, and yet she was ignoring it. Ignoring it because if she didn't… if she acknowledged it… then she would also have to acknowledge that Anna made her feel this way. Continued to make her feel like that, despite now knowing who they were to each other. How strong this reaction proved to be, even after all her work to bury it.

Anna was tired of the games. Tired of dancing around her feelings – of not being able to even admit them – because Elsa didn't want to hear it. She had put up a wall and refused to let anything past it. It wasn't fair. She wanted… she wanted either her mother, as only her mother… or else she wanted Elsa, all of her. The problem was that she kept being given little tastes of what more they could be if they only pushed past the taboo, past their reservations.

The problem was that Elsa would never be just her mother. Not anymore.

                                 TO BE CONTINUED… 

[mightylauren]

Avengers Endgame SPOILER FILLED Thoughtstream

Pretty much a blow by blow reaction stream straight from my mind in list form of the entire movie from beginning to end. Clearly full of spoilers so it’s below the cut and tagged to death. There’s some all caps screaming. A few keyboard smashes. A fair amount of cussing. Probably a fair amount of typos as I typed this while totally not rewatching it in the comfort of my home. 

Totally not.

I don’t really expect anyone to read all of this but it was all festering in my mind and now it’s out. 

SERIOUSLY I SPOIL LIKE EVERYTHING BELOW THE CUT DON’T CLICK IT UNLESS YOU’RE SURE YOU WANT TO SEE IT.

Who put’s mayo on a hotdog?

Oh man hawks didn’t even see it happen nooo. I knew we were opening with Barton family dusting but ouch.

Tony calling Nebula the blue meanie!

Nebula refusing the last of the food and making Tony eat it makes me love her even more. 

Tony somehow keeps his sense of humor even in the face of death. God I love him. I know he’s gonna make it off this ship.

HA, that Internet joke about Carol showing up right after the trailer scene is true. That’s hilarious.

They never explain how Carol knew to look for them, but I’m going to guess she came to earth ala the scene after Captain Marvel and then went back out to see if she could find him.

Or she got REALLY lucky

I’m unclear does Nebula need oxygen and food? Or just significantly less than a full on human? She seems much better off than him.

Steve shaving did we miss seeing the beard one last time by like seconds? rude.

OMG Rocket sitting down and taking Nebula’s hand. The last of their family. Everyone else gone. My heart is aching.

23 days so we’re less than a month past Vanishing Day

Ha Tony calling Rocket Build a Bear is my first genuine laugh this movie.

I honestly was dying on the inside the whole time Tony is losing his shit on Cap. I mean he needed to say it all but seeing how sick he is and falling apart. He rips off his reactor and hands it over then collapses.

My heart.

Rhodey man. “That’s cute, Thanos has a retirement plan.”

Man this is the least planning they’ve ever done before a mission. They’re just gonna pack up, hop in a space ship and go kill Thanos? Cool. Coolcoolcool.

Okay it’s pretty good to see a lot of that trailer stuff is from very early on in the movie.

“Who here hasn’t been to space? You better not throw up on my ship.” XD

How does this big ass planet that can clearly sustain life have no life on it? Just Thanos some birds and some Meiloorun fruit?

That’s a Star Wars reference for those of you who don’t cross fandom lines.

So his snapping arm looks completely borked.

OH SHIT THEY CAME IN SWINGING

FUCK THOR CHOPPED OFF HIS ARM DAMN

ASDFKSAJDOFIUA THE STONES ARE GONE

Wait why is Banner still not Hulking out? How is that suit still running?

Damn he destroyed the stones. He knew they’d come.

DAMN THOR WENT IN HARD.

We are like twenty minutes in and Thanos is dead? I… what?

*crumples up and throws away all predictions she had before going into the movie

FIVE YEARS LATER?!?

FIVE

FIVE YEARS

I should have brought a paper bag to breath into.

Okay there’s the support group. Yup a lot of the footage from trailers and stuff is front loaded at the beginning of this. Which is good, because no clue where this is genuinely going.

Did… did a rat just bring Ant-Man back? A rat?

Shit how long has it been for him?

Oh wait, he’s looking for his people maybe not that long.

P-professor Chang?

Can you imagine how disorienting this all is for Scott? Pops out five years after a tragedy like the snap with no idea what the hell is happening.

My sister literally turned to me and said “no trash service but they built a monument?”

Valid question. Very valid. 

OMG CASSIE IS ALL GROWN UP I CAN’T.

I don’t think he fully realized how much time had passed until he saw his daughter.

“You’re so big” just made me tear up a little.

I just had a baby daughter four months ago. So I’m trying not to imagine what it would be like to vanish along with a bunch of other people and then turn back up five years later.

CAROL’S HAIR.

I’m sorry some of this is probably going to be completely incomprehensible unless you’ve seen the movie it just needs venting.

I am liking that they’re all reporting to Nat. That Rocket and Nebula are clearly teamed up.

OMG rocket made a joke about the haircut and Carol called him Fur Face

In case you didn’t know I have a ridiculous love for Rocket so I’m just glad he’s got a support system right now with almost the entirety of his found family dusted.

Capt. Marvel is basically saying she’s out for most of this movie isn’t she? I guess that makes sense she’s OP as hell.

Rhodey is tracking Clint but reluctantly. Clint’s clearly gone off the deepens a bit. Vigilante. Nat isn’t taking it well. Oh no she’s crying. 

This movie is gonna kill me.

I’m trying to imagine seeing a pod of whales in the Hudson River and I can’t imagine it. 

Okay so I’m guessing Scott’s about to turn up covering another major point from the early trailers. Yes yes yes. This is good.

Nat explaining that the Avengers gave her a family and a life and made her feel like she was a better person. Oh girl. You’ve done enough. It’s okay.

HA THE LOOKS ON THEIR FACES ARE PRICELESS

Scott doesn’t know science. He’s trying so hard. We need the Science Bros. Where are they?

FIVE HOURS

FIVE FUCKING HOURS?

HE WAS IN FOR FIVE HOURS AND LOST FIVE YEARS????

“Scott, I get e-mails from a raccoon so nothing seems crazy anymore.” LFAO

Tony has a daughter I’m dying. It had to be a little girl. 

Wait is he serious about eating crickets on lettuce? He might be this is semi post-apocalyptic.

Tony does not look happy to see them.

YES LET’S PULL A TIME HEIST. Tony isn’t feeling this but I am.

Oh, Scott, honey. Back to the Future? 

Though Tony your protege Peter used movies to make plans all the time. Maybe it’s not that laughable.

Okay I would die for his daughter. “Mommy sent me out here to save you.” Don’t think you were supposed to just say that outloud kiddo but props on a successful mission.

I know Tony too well for this. He’s saying no, because he loves his family. He needs his family. He’s scared to lose his family.

But now this idea is going to itch at the back of his brain aching to be solved.

Come on Tony lets go back to the future and pull off a time heist.

Hulk in glasses and a sweater is was not even on my theory bingo card what is happening. Is this his diner? They had to find him so he’s clearly not working for Nat right now. I have so many questions.

This whole thing with the kids is awkward. 

Come to think of it I have questions about how the infrastructure that is supporting things like cell phone networks is still functioning after the vanishing. Maybe because it’s been five years.

Is Nat flirting with Banner to get him to help?

Tony looking at a picture of Peter he’s got to try.

OH MY GOD HE GOT IT IN ONE EVENING.

EVEN HE LOOKS SURPRISED.

SHIT! 

I’m glad there is laughter in this movie and it’s not entirely heavy. I mean it’s Marvel I should have known.

He calls his daughter Little Miss. And she just extorted a juice pop out of him. I love Dad Tony. 

This is gonna hurt later I just know it. I can feel it in my gut.

“I love you 3000” My heart.

I’m glad that Tony is just going to have a straight up honest conversation with his wife about this.

He’s grown so much.

Oh Pepper, she’s telling him to do it. There’s some unsaid deep communication happening in this conversation. Bless this pair so much. She’s going to let him go and he’s going to go even though his gut his telling him that the road is not going to end well for him.

That’s why he wants to put it in a lock box and drop it to the bottom of a lake.

This is just so damn good so far. No complaints yet.

I kind of love this Hulk. He has no idea what he’s doing here but I love him. He’s like only half taking this seriously.

BAHAHAHA THIS TEST. HE comes back as a baby and Hulk is like “He’ll grow” I mean he’s not wrong but not the right answer buddy.

Another genuinely funny scene. 

“TIME TRAVEL!” With his hulk arms held wide.

Tony is literally speeding in his car there. Cap doesn’t even look that surprised.

Oh this is the Tony and Steve getting back on the same page moment I’ve been waiting for. I love it. I really love it.

HE BROUGHT THE SHIELD.

I love that it was in the trunk buried under kids stuff.

Tony is back and I love it even if I’m scared it’s gonna mean his end.

“Rhodey, careful on reentry theres an idiot in the landing zone.” As if I couldn’t love Nebula more in this movie.

Wait “New Asgard Please Drive Slowly” just threw me for a total loop. Good to know all the Asgardians didn’t actually die in that ship.

VALKYRIE!!!!

She’s like not acknowledging the Raccoon LMFAO

Holy hell what is happening here. Oh man Thor what have you done to yourself.

Actually, I get it. 

Are they playing Fortnite? 

This whole scene is super surreal right now. 

I actually kinda dig it but I did NOT see it coming. This movie has gone places I never would have predicted.

Thor kept strong for so long. He lost so much. He got all the way to the point where he’d done all he could think. He killed Thanos and there was no way to undo all that could be done so he just settled and existed. He drank and played video games with his buddies.

I get it.

Rocket just lured him onto the ship with beer. 

Was good to see Korg and Miek are alive. And there for them in their own ways.

RONIN ALERT.

Oh dude he’s just fucking people up does he even have a bow with him?

Nat waited until there was some way to undo the snap before reaching out to him. She’s just been silently tracking him waiting for a good reason to bring him in. 

In a matter of seconds Tony calls Thor “Lebowski” and Rocket “Ratchet” and I have always lived for his dumbass nicknames. 

Lebowski Thor is officially what I’m referring to this iteration of Thor.

Oh look a classic time travel trope a limit in the number of trips they can make. Makes sense though, Hank Pym was always very protective of how to make the particles so they only have what was made before the Vanishing.

I love the team debating how time travel really works. Listing all the time travel movies. Bill and Ted even snuck into the list. 

Not sure sending Clint back for the test was the best choice this is gonna be rough.

Okay he started to lose it at the end but he made it.

YES brainstorming session this’ll be fun.

Tony’s gentle handling of Thor says a lot. Tony’s been to rock bottom and recognizes the symptoms. At the same time I laughed when he offered breakfast and Thor said no he wanted a Bloody Mary.

ROCKET CALLING SCOTT AN EXCITED PUPPY BAHAHAHA

Nebula is so dramatic I’m here for it. 

Laying all over the desk brainstorming for Nat to finally figure out that there are three stones in one place at one time. This is the content I came for.

TIME HEIST LETS GO.

And just like that its 2012 this is surreal.

LMFAO HULK DOESN’T WANT TO SMASH.

Interesting seeing what the Ancient One was doing during the battle of New York. On a roof defending the sanctum from Chitauri.

OH SHIT SHE JUST PUSHED BANNER’S SOUL OUTA HIS HULK BODY

I didn’t see that coming.

Just a glimpse of Loki. :-(

It was almost cruel to send Thor to Asgard to do this. I mean someone had to go with Rocket, but damn this is tough to watch.

DAMN Rocket smacked him. And also just called Mantis “the chick with the antenna”. Pep talk’s not bad but Thor is crying I don’t think he can do this.

I don’t know why they want to do it that way anyway, Jane would have taken one look at him and known it was the wrong Thor.

Wait… they’re sending Nat and Clint to Vormir… oh God… oh no…

Okay so that’s going to suck in a few minutes lets just put a pin in that.

Nebula you waited a bit to tell Rhodey that there’s another you out there looking for the same infinity stone you’re there to fetch. 

Oh look its like just barely pre-Guardians Gamora, Nebula, and unfortunately Thanos.

I have a bad feeling about this.

OH SHIT I HAVE A VERY BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS.

Turns out two Nebula’s in one place is bad voodoo. She’s seeing video from the other Nebula which means THANOS can see video from the other….

Yeah this is all gonna go bad.

HAHAHA Tony just checked out Steve’s ass. 

AMERICA’S ASS!!!

It’s hard to remember that this shit is going to fall apart when I’m laughing.

Tony just flicked Ant-Man to his target and all I can think about is Gimli an “toss me” from LOTR.

Is Cap about to fuck up a bunch of people in the elevator again?

STEVE YOU SNEAKY BASTARD YOU JUST HAIL HYDRA’D AND STOLE THE SCEPTER.

2012 Time heist is about to hit a hiccup isn’t it. OH MAN they just gave Tony a heart attack.

LOKI NO

I mean yes but no. Loki just nicked the Tesseract and dipped with it. 2012 Loki is just gone.

There’s like timeline repercussions there. Not entirely sure what they are but there will be repercussions.

Cap fighting himself! CAP CHECKING OUT HIS OWN ASS!

Man the Time Heist is so rapid fire there’s too much to absorb.

“I’m totally from the future.” - Lebowski Thor breaking a law of time travel

Thor’s heart to heart with his mom is giving me feels. He needed this.

YES MJOLNIR IS COMING WITH HIM!

Ok it’s never occurred to me how ridiculous Quill would look dancing around without the music. That’s hilarious.

AH SHIT THANOS KNOWS AND HE’S THERE AND THIS IS WHERE IT GOES TO SHIT.

NEBULA </3

It’s so good seeing Steve and Tony back on the same page trusting each other. And clearly completely throwing Scott “Piss-Ant” Lang for a loop. 

I didn’t expect a detour to the 70’s. AAAND that’s his Dad. Tony’s just run into his own father. 

This movie is a roller coaster I’ll tell ya.

This is all mush if you’ve read this far you deserve an award. Or a sticker. One of those.

What a weird decision to have Tony have this whole meet up with his father here. And now Steve is taking refuge in Peggy’s office. Like this is almost mean to do this to these two. 

Why is it the Russo’s never could decide if Steve had gotten over Peggy or not gotten over Peggy. Back and forth and back again. I take it we aren’t going to see the niece at all in this one?

Alright boys lets get the hell out of the 70s this felt like a weird trip without the drugs.

Damn Nebula why is past you such a bitch when I love present you so much. I know I know that’s because you grew and what not but shit I don’t know what you and Thanos are about to do but it’s about to suck.

FUCK I FORGOT ABOUT VORMIR BECAUSE THERE WAS SO MUCH GOING ON

I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for this. I don’t want either of them to die. This sucks. No No no no onoanfnaondaksldfj;lasdkja;

God we’re going to have to literally watch them fight over which one is going to sacrifice themself.

Here it is, I’m crying now. Me and Barton are just going to cry here in this puddle if you need us. 

They’re all back, except Nat. Which means that’s the wrong damn Nebula and no one notices because NO NAT. Shit. Shit shit.

This movie is going to give me a heart attack.

“Did she have any family?” “Yeah. Us.” :’-(

Okay Thanos like fucked up a whole mining community and shut down a star afterwards to forge a gauntlet to put the stones in and here’s Tony Stark plopping them into like an Iron Man armor piece like its nothing.

Looks sleek too. I dig it.

And they’re all too busy with the glove to notice fucking Nebula. SHIT. 

Man it’s hurting Hulk just to WEAR the damn thing. Thanos was just strolling around wearing it, which doesn’t bode well considering I see Nebula is bringing Thanos here. 

Cool. That’s cool. This is fine. 

How long of a moment of joy are they going to get. Clint’s wife is calling. Birds are singing. Shit is inches from a fan.

THERE’S THE SHIT. HOLY SHIT HE’S BLOWING AVENGERS HQ COMPLETELY OFF THE MAP NOOOOOOO

There’s like a whole hour left. Tell me they all survived that. I was not ready. I WAS NOT READY.

Oh here’s that shot of Hawkeye in the tunnel. Much later in the movie than a lot of those trailer shots. Fascinating. 

So 2014 Thanos is here with his whole crew and there’s a complete gauntlet here. Shit.

Well, they’re all alive. They’re not together entirely but they’re all alive.

Double wielding dad bod Thor just braided his beard with lightning and I’m here for it.

The stakes are at maximum. Now Thanos wants to destroy it all not just half. So failure here can never be undone there won’t be anyone to Avenge anything if he gets the gauntlet this time. That’s not terrifying at all.

Fuck that’s the wrong Nebula. BUT THERE’S THE RIGHT NEBULA WITH GAMORA.

Clint is like in the middle of this stand off like “wtf is happening I should have kept my hands on the glove”

Nebula just killed her own past self. And she didn’t vanish so no Back to the Future rules here for sure.

Damn Thanos is giving the boys a run for their money even without a single stone. 

Shit is Thor gonna die?

HOLY SHIT CAP HAS THE HAMMER AND THE THEATER JUST MIGHT EXPLODE FROM THE SOUNDS OF THE AUDIENCE SCREAMING ABOUT THIS.

Damnit Thanos is calling in the whole army. Cap is like the last one standing on the front line and he’s not backing down because he’s Captain “America’s Ass” America. Thor is down Iron Man is down. The others are trying not to drown. Shit.

OMG ON YOUR LEFT I JUST MIGHT CRY.

HOLY SHIT ITS EVERYONE I’M CRYING. 

PEPPER FUCKING POTTS IS HERE AS RESCUE HOLY SHIT.

TALK ABOUT THE CALVARY RIDING IN AT THE LAST POSSIBLE SECOND HOLY HELL.

HE’S GONNA FUCKING SAY IT

AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!

It’s a good thing they sound proof these theaters now or you’d hear this across town the audience is going fucking nuts.

There’s too much to touch on all this chaos I’ll hit the highlights because it’s so much.

Pepper and Tony fighting back to back.

Thor and Steve switching weapons, Thor telling him to keep “the little one” aka Mjolnir.

Tony and Peter reuniting and the hug.

Quill seeing Gamora and it’s the wrong Gamora and actually that broke my heart a little bit because his Gamora is gone forever.

Playing hot potato with the gauntlet.

Scarlet Witch fucking Thanos up to the point he panics and starts firing on his own troops to get her off of him.

Spider getting the gauntlet and for the first time ever activating instant kill on purpose.

Peter becoming the hot potato along with the Gauntlet.

OMG ROCKET FOUND GROOT AND HE’S BODILY BLOCKING HIM FROM FIRE MY HEART.

When the ships started firing up my sister elbowed me and legit was like “She’s here.” 

All the women assembling around Captain Marvel!! Even Gamora is with them holy shit!

Damn it the glove is back within his reach and I can’t with this. 

GET HIM CAROL DON’T LET HIM DO IT AGAIN.

She took a headbutt to the face like it was nothing and he panicked like a bitch pulled the power stone and punched her with it. 

OH MY GOD TONY

My sister silently handed me a tissue and I fell the fuck apart.

I never thought in a million years they would have it go this way. Tony snapping. Dusting Thanos and his army. 

I can’t even comment more on this scene I’m too sad. Everything after is too sad. The funeral.

There are infinity stone colored stones in the “proof that Tony Stark has a heart” setting. 

I love you 3000 Tony Stark.

Thor leaving Valkyrie in charge and heading off with the Guardians.

Quill clearly looking for new old Gamora. I doubt she was dusted so she must have just faded away after the battle to do her own thing.

Glad that Nebula is with them though.

I feel a loose beginning set up for the actual Asgardians of the Galaxy.

Bucky said goodbye to Cap like he knew Cap wasn’t going to be back with them in five seconds. He knew.

We’re lucky he didn’t come back as a baby though. ;-)

I mean I’m surprised they went this route with Cap but I’m happy for him.

I’m happy for Sam too. We knew at the end of this the mantel had to get passed and here it is, old man Steve passing the shield to Sam.

I bet that show about “Falcon” and Bucky is really about the new Captain America and Bucky. Just saying.

Steggy shippers rejoice and the cries of a million Stony and Stucky shippers can be heard round the world.

Is that a sentence I just wrote? I never got into MCU shipping stuff personally.

And then all there is at the end is the distant sound of Tony forging that first armor.

A reminder that Tony Stark built all this in a cave.

From a box of scraps.

TONY….

I’ll be mourning Tony for a long while. I was always team Tony.

They did him right tough. His arc was satisfying and RDJ performed beautifully in this one.

My heart aches. They had to give him a daughter. I’m watching my daughter sleep totally not thinking what it would be like for her to lose her father. 

I’m gonna go hug my partner when I’m done with this.

Over all I am happy with Endgame. I mean with time travel they obviously left loose ends all over.

They say they can’t change time and the whole present becoming your past when you go back while the past is your future blah blah blah

But like clearly things are changed. 2012 Loki got the tesseract and escaped

2014 Thanos is no longer in 2014. So the Guardians movies happened but also couldn’t have happened? I dunno it’s confusing.

So basically the MCU has finally caught up with it’s comic book roots of being a confusing jumble timelines. How poetic.

Anyway if you read this you are amazing and feel free to private message me if you want to scream about Avengers Endgame and have no one else to do it with.

I feel better having vented this all out.

[lets-talk-appella]

Make Me (Where Dreams Come True)

For Bechloe Week Day 7 - Disney

Summary: Rounding out Bechloe Week with a bang! (Heh.) Beca doesn't want to dress as a Disney princess for Halloween. But it's all Chloe's idea, and Beca will do just about anything for her girlfriend, especially when Chloe bribes her... Smut. 

Yikes, Disney-related smut. Listen, I tried really hard to think of something else to meet the prompt, I really did, but... oh, well. I hope you guys don’t mind?

Word Count: 4.7k

Rated E because go big or go home, you know?

AO3 and FFN

Beca Mitchell will do just about anything for Chloe Beale.

One time, Chloe locked herself out of the Bella house and Beca walked all the way from her internship during her lunch break to give Chloe her keys. Another time, Chloe had been having horrendous period cramps and was craving her favorite ice cream that was only found at one store nearly 30 miles away. Without a second thought, Beca drove there and back to get Chloe that specific brand. More than once, Beca has held Chloe’s hair while she threw up after Bella/Treble parties. On one occasion, Beca even watched all three High School Musical movies with Chloe and kept her complaints to a minimum.

And that was all while they were just friends. Since becoming a couple following Beca’s breakup with Jesse after her junior year, Beca’s willingness to support Chloe has only increased.

Beca will do just about anything for her girlfriend.

However, that does not extend to participation in Chloe’s idea for Halloween costumes. Matching Halloween costumes. Matching Disney princess Halloween costumes, specifically, meant for use at the annual Treble Halloween bash.

Chloe had suggested it casually over dinner about two weeks before Halloween. At first, her plea for the others to join in had been met with a ringing silence. Beca had been secretly delighted, hoping that the plan for matching costumes would fail before it even started. Then, to her dismay, Flo had broken the ice by asking if Chloe was planning on dressing as Ariel.

Chloe had wrinkled her nose at the thought and replied, “Nope, I’ll be Merida. Ariel makes me mad because if I were a mermaid, I’d have stayed that way instead of chasing after some idiot guy.” Despite that good point, Beca had been disappointed that Chloe would not be spending time clad only in a clamshell bra. She was snapped from her fantasy when a small riot had broken out at the Bella table, analyzing Ariel’s potential father issues.

It had only gone downhill from there. Following the debate over Ariel – who, they determined, clearly did have father issues – Chloe had eyed each of the Bellas in turn, waiting for their answer to her proposal. Under Chloe’s glare, Amy had elected to join in on the Halloween theme with a shrug and said, “As long as I can be Fat Cinderella, you have a deal.”

Emily, of course, had squealed – actually squealed – with excitement and had sprung up from her chair (she often ate dinner with the Bellas, despite living in the dorms) up to the balls of her feet. She had immediately called dibs on Snow White, which Beca thought suited her well. She really wouldn’t put it past Emily to sing to local woodland creatures, the extent of which at Barden might be a lone squirrel.

Flo, on the other hand, had been downright offended at the suggestion and had said heatedly, “Until there is a Guatemalan princess, I refuse.”

Cynthia-Rose had scoffed openly and laughed, not bothering to give a specific reason.

Stacie, though, under Chloe’s pleading gaze, had agreed to the costume idea relatively quickly. She had stipulated, however, that she needed to be Jasmine in order to “maintain her sense of body image.” Beca had snorted at that; she knew full well that Stacie only wanted to be in a costume that showed as much skin as possible, cultural appropriation be damned.

Next in the line was Lilly, who had muttered under her breath, “I’m already wearing my costume,” which had made Beca move her chair away from her slightly.

Then it had been Beca’s turn. She had elected to remain silent rather than voicing her thoughts, not wanting to be banished to the couch for the next two weeks. “Beca?” Chloe had asked tentatively. “I think you’d make a great Belle.” Beca had tried to keep the disgust from her face, merely shrugging noncommittally while the Bellas all whistled at her. Chloe had, thankfully, chosen to move on and talk about something else.

Ashley and Jessica hadn’t been in attendance at the dinner, having been watching a movie at the time, but no one noticed their absence until much later.

Since then, Chloe hasn’t pressured any of the Bellas to participate. Beca’s waiting anxiously for the other shoe to drop; she thought for sure Chloe would be all over her, trying to wrestle her into a Belle costume. But no. It really hasn’t come up between them. Beca is suspicious. She can’t quite believe that she’d gotten off the hook so easily. But as the days pass without mention of the Disney theme, she starts to breathe a little more easily.

That is, until she wakes up in the room she shares with Amy on the day of the Treble party to see an enormous, obnoxiously yellow dress placed in her desk chair. Belle’s dress.

No. Unacceptable.

“CHLOE!” she bellows, startling Amy awake in the bed next to her.

“What, babe?” calls Chloe in a singsong voice from down the stairs.

Beca rolls her eyes at Amy’s tired grin. “You know what!” she yells back.

“The party starts at 8!” is Chloe’s only reply.

Beca is fuming. She spends the entire day thinking of reasons she hates this. She really doesn’t want to be a Disney princess. She’d never been all that into Disney as a kid because she’d thought (and still does think) that movies with singing in them are lame. Plus, most of the princesses’ stories center around men, so that’s irritating.

Though, she has to admit, out of all the Disney princesses, Belle is probably the least annoying. She likes books, so that’s cool. She turns down the town’s most eligible bachelor for a giant scary beast, which is awesome. All the same, developing Stockholm syndrome isn’t a great story line to tell kids.

Beca watches the clock as the day drags on, knowing that she’ll eventually have to make a choice: either refuse and disappoint Chloe or agree and make a fool of herself while pleasing Chloe. It’s a tough decision. She doesn’t move when she hears the others getting ready. Doesn’t move when Amy gets dressed in her own white Cinderella ballgown. Doesn’t even move when Amy leaves, fully costumed, to join the other Bellas downstairs.

Which is why, when Chloe climbs the stairs to Beca and Amy’s room, dressed in her Merida costume complete with a fake bow and arrow, Beca is still sitting on her bed in a tank top and jeans, staring at the dress with extreme dislike.

“Beca?” asks Chloe, confused, as she sets down the bow and arrow. “Why aren’t you ready? The party is in an hour.”

“So I have fifty-seven minutes. Excellent.”

Chloe rolls her eyes and says, “Except no, you don’t, because we were going to head over early and help set up. Besides, it’ll take longer than three minutes for your hair. And makeup. And earrings.”

Beca’s expression becomes more incredulous with each thing Chloe lists. It all sounds so awful. “Chloe…” she whines. “I really don’t want to be Belle.”

Chloe stares at Beca as though she’d kicked her puppy. “But Beca,” she pouts, lip jutting out, “we already have the costume and it’s a theme!”

“Four people don’t make a theme,” Beca deadpans, wondering why Chloe can’t see that.

“But five do!” Chloe argues. “And look, you’ll be the fifth!”

“Chlo…” Beca sighs, looking down at her lap. She knows she’s being stubborn, but she can’t stand wearing dresses.

There’s a pause and Beca glances up to see Chloe watching her thoughtfully. “What can I do to convince you?” Chloe eventually asks slowly.

“Nothing,” huffs Beca grumpily. She hates yellow with a passion.

“How about…” Chloe bites her lip, thinking, then brightens. “I’ll buy you dinner at Chipotle whenever you want for a month?”

Beca’s eyebrows lift. Well, if that’s how they’re going to do things… “I like that,” she concedes, “but I’m gonna need a little more.”

“Um, I won’t make you do cardio at rehearsal for two weeks?” suggests Chloe, looking at Beca hopefully.

“Keep going…” Beca twirls a hand in the air, reveling in her new power.

Chloe starts to look somewhat put out that Beca hasn’t agreed to anything yet. She watches Beca calculatingly, making a slight sense of foreboding sweep through Beca’s body.

“Fine,” Chloe says decisively, triumph in her eyes. “How about if you don’t, no sex for two weeks?”

Beca’s mouth falls open at the injustice. “Dude, you can’t just –” she begins, then stops herself abruptly. Okay, if that’s how Chloe wants to do this. Two can play at that game. “That’s okay,” she says, enjoying the stunned expression on Chloe’s face. “You’ll just have to suffer along with me, then.”

She can tell that hadn’t occurred to Chloe, who clicks her tongue impatiently. “Beca! Put on the dress!” she exclaims, frustrated by Beca’s stubbornness.

“Make me.”

The words leave Beca’s mouth before she can stop them. The second she realizes what she’s said, her stomach drops and she’s reeling, trying to think of how she can take it back, but it’s too late. A wicked smile spreads over Chloe’s face; she looks predatory, terrifying. Sexy.

Beca swallows hard.

Chloe’s grin widens and she takes one step closer to Beca. “Okay. How about a little… bribery? To ‘make you,’ as you said.”

Beca scrambles off the bed to stand in the middle of her room, incredibly jumpy and strangely aroused. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?” she asks in a high voice. God. If Chloe’s about to do what she thinks she’s going to do… well. That’s just cheating.

“I meant,” Chloe purrs out, suddenly moving closer to trail a finger down Beca’s chest, between her breasts and to her stomach, “like this.”

Beca is rooted to the floor, unable to move. Her breath quickens and her hands ball into fists at her sides. Chloe is so cheating.

“Oh,” Beca manages to squeak before Chloe flings her arms around her neck pulls her into a searing kiss.

There’s no soft and slow start. Chloe’s tongue is immediately flicking against Beca’s, Beca having gasped in surprise at the initial force of the kiss. Beca’s body responds before her brain can catch up, her hands flying to the satin dress at Chloe’s waist and her own lips and tongue moving with Chloe’s, trying desperately to keep up. Chloe snares her lower lip between her teeth to give it a gentle tug, something she knows gets Beca going.

Again, cheating.

A bolt of heat shoots between Beca’s legs and she can’t stop the whimper that escapes her throat, spurring Chloe on. Hands move from Beca’s neck to slide into her hair and Chloe changes the angle of their kiss, deepening it even further. Reflexively, Beca clutches at Chloe’s hips until she finds herself being forced backward blindly, her back hitting the wall behind her with a loud thud. She’s momentarily concerned about the presence of other Bellas in the house but stops caring the instant Chloe’s mouth moves from her lips to her neck.

Her eyes flutter as Chloe presses her lips to the sensitive skin, occasionally grazing it with her teeth and sucking lightly. Beca knows she’ll bruise, but she’s so overwhelmed with Chloe, Chloe everywhere that it doesn’t matter. Chloe’s hands have somehow arrived on her hips, pressing her firmly against the wall, the pressure there making her lower stomach swirl in anticipation. Beca’s hands rise on Chloe’s back to trail her fingers up and down, dragging her nails over the material of the costume. She can feel Chloe shiver at the sensation, which heightens her own need.

She vaguely recalls that this whole thing had started for a reason and that she’d had a goal in mind, but she can’t quite remember what it was, her entire body suddenly feeling warm. It’s not until Chloe’s tongue flattens on her neck and drags upward, making her head thud back against the wall, that she remembers the dress and the party.

Okay, Beca thinks as Chloe presses even closer, she’ll go to the party, but not as Belle. Her body is on fire now, the growing heat between her legs screaming at her to keep going, to not let Chloe stop, but they have a party to get to and the Bellas are here and it takes all her will to say –

“Chlo, we don’t have time,” she gasps frantically.

Chloe nips at her ear before whispering, “So you’ll wear the dress?”

“N-no,” Beca shudders as Chloe growls and switches to the other side of her neck. “I hate yellow, and it’ll take too long.”

“We’ll just be late,” Chloe rasps, her voice husky. She recaptures Beca’s lips in her own at the same time she raises both hands to cover Beca’s breasts over her bra and tank top. Beca hears herself make an embarrassingly loud keen against Chloe’s mouth at the contact as she arches forward, pressing into Chloe’s hands. Chloe hums in response, still licking into Beca’s mouth, and runs her thumbs over Beca’s nipples through her clothes repeatedly.

Beca exhales noisily, finally pulling her face away from Chloe’s to latch her own lips onto Chloe’s neck, trapping Chloe’s hands against her chest. One hand grips Chloe’s lower back, pulling her even closer, while the other supports the back of Chloe’s neck as she bites down gently on her pulse point. She feels more than hears Chloe’s high whimper; that spot always works. Her hands tighten on Chloe, desperate to keep hearing the noises she makes. Beca knows she’s already wet; she can feel it with every shift of her weight. If she’s honest with herself, it had been building from the moment Chloe had started bribing her.

Chloe’s fingers rub again over her nipples through her clothes and Beca’s hips press forward involuntarily into Chloe, whose breath catches. For a moment, Beca is embarrassed by how turned on she is, how needy she feels, how much her core is already throbbing, even though they have a party to go to but then Chloe moves impossibly closer to pin Beca against the door and presses her thigh between Beca’s legs.

“Oh my God.”

Beca groans at the contact, breaking their kiss, and her body automatically drops to grind against Chloe’s leg. Chloe’s hands drop from her breasts to her to tug on her hips, encouraging Beca’s rolling. But Chloe’s damn dress is in the way, preventing them both from moving as fluidly as they normally do, so Beca’s hands move to the back of Chloe’s neck, scrabbling for the clasp of the costume. She finds it and releases it, immediately drawing the zipper down Chloe’s back. Chloe steps away from Beca just long enough to shimmy the dress off, leaving her in her bra and underwear. Beca shivers at the sudden loss of contact, only for Chloe to press into her again.

“You know,” Beca pants as Chloe’s hands ghost under her tank top to trace over her lower back and stomach, “if you’d have gone as Ariel, the undressing part would have been faster.”

“And if you’d have been in your dress,” Chloe replies breathlessly, again pulling back, this time to lift Beca’s tank over her head and off her to drop on the floor, “this would have been faster, too.”

Beca reaches to pull Chloe back in and flush against her, their bare stomachs meeting and making her skin twitch. She needs more contact, more Chloe, so she lifts her leg to wrap it around Chloe’s waist, pulling them together. Chloe hums again at the new angle, then gasps sharply when Beca bucks into her. Beca can’t help herself; she’s been craving some sort of relief for a while and the feel of Chloe against her – almost but not quite right – is driving her insane. She’s burning up, hands wandering, not sure where her body ends and where Chloe’s begins, but still she tugs Chloe into her, needing Chloe to be closer, closer, closer.

It’s at that moment Chloe pulls away roughly, guiding Beca’s leg back down to the floor. Beca’s eyes fly open – she doesn’t remember closing them – in distress. All she can think is no no no no, scared that Chloe wants to stop. But then, Chloe drops to her knees in front of her.

The air rushes from Beca’s lungs and her legs weaken. Chloe, perhaps sensing this, braces Beca’s hips with her hands, again forcing her into the wall. Beca’s hands land over Chloe’s briefly before moving up and behind her own neck. She’s even more turned on, now certain her underwear is completely ruined. Chloe’s hands glide agonizingly slowly to the front of Beca’s pants, stopping at the button. She looks up to make eye contact with Beca, silently asking for permission.

Beca nods frantically, her hands clawing at the back of her own neck, her mouth dry, and her core positively aching. With a small smile, Chloe pops out the button of Beca’s jeans and draws the zipper down in one fluid motion. Beca’s eyes again close and she leans her head back, widening her stance and waiting for Chloe to yank her pants and underwear down and for a tongue to appear between her legs.

But it doesn’t happen. Instead, Chloe cups Beca’s crotch through her jeans, making her moan out in surprise. She teases Beca, pressing her fingers against her and rubbing along the seam of the pants until Beca’s sure she’s going to combust. Her hips move of their own volition, trying to urge Chloe’s hand into some kind of rhythm.

“Chlo, I swear to God…” she groans when Chloe presses even harder. “If you don’t finish this right now….”

“Hang on tight,” Chloe replies, and Beca’s confused until suddenly Chloe is on her feet again and pulling Beca’s arms over her shoulders and Beca’s legs around her waist and she’s lifting, carrying Beca to her bed. Beca finds the whole thing so incredible and awesome and hot that the next moments are a blur. She dimly remembers taking Chloe’s bra off, but then she loses track of things until suddenly she and Chloe are in the bed together and both very naked, writhing against each other.

Beca rolls them so she’s on top for the moment, her thigh pressing into Chloe’s equally wet center again and again as she rocks into her. Chloe’s whimpering, moaning, her hands roaming over Beca’s back. When Beca drops to take Chloe’s nipple into her mouth, Chloe claws at her shoulders, leaving stinging scratches behind. Beca doesn’t mind in the slightest as her tongue circles Chloe’s nipple, the skin pebbling under her touch, her hand massaging Chloe’s other breast.

Chloe’s hips tilt up into hers tantalizingly, so she releases the skin from her mouth and props herself up on one elbow. Beca slides a hand down between them, fully prepared to touch and enter Chloe, only for Chloe to grab her wrist and hold it.

“Wait,” Chloe pants.

Beca looks up immediately, questioning why she’d been stopped. Chloe’s flushed, slightly sweaty, her makeup a little smudged, but she looks absolutely beautiful in that moment. So, Beca’s distracted and it takes her a second to make sense of what Chloe means when she says, “Nope, we don’t have time. In a hurry.”

And she’s almost angry that Chloe had started this without intending to finish, but then Chloe flips them so she’s on top and settling between Beca’s legs. Beca groans, understanding now, and Chloe immediately drives into her, thrusting and swiveling her hips to meet Beca’s, which are tilting upward. Now Beca’s the one whimpering and swearing as Chloe grinds into her and drops her mouth without warning to enclose Beca’s straining nipple.

She tangles her fingers into Chloe’s hair, tugging gently because she knows Chloe likes it. But soon, the throbbing between her legs starts to overtake her other senses and she’s squirming, wiggling down and against Chloe, needing more contact.

Chloe understands immediately. She rises from Beca’s chest and reaches down to press her hand between Beca’s legs.

“Shit, Bec, you’re so wet,” Chloe huffs, having the audacity to sound surprised.

“Yep,” replies Beca simply, her mind focused on how Chloe’s fingers feel gliding against her.

Her fingers continuing to stroke up and down Beca’s length, Chloe muses, “Maybe I should have grabbed the strap-on.”

Beca’s back arches and she feels herself clenching, toes curling into the mattress at the thought of Chloe using that on her. A desperate whine tears itself from her throat – she wants that, more than anything, she’s fully prepared to beg for it when –

“Ah, well, no time now,” says Chloe conversationally. “Maybe later on.”

And Beca’s fuming again because she knows exactly what Chloe is doing. “Chloe, don’t you dare –”

“Shh… let me make it up to you,” Chloe purrs and leans in, kissing Beca, forcing their tongues together.

Beca’s confused for a moment when Chloe reclaims her hand, depriving her center of contact, but then Chloe’s lips move from her mouth to her neck and continue downward. Chloe’s tongue flicks again at Beca’s nipples, first one side, then the other, making Beca’s eyes roll back. She feels Chloe move down her body, dragging her tongue drag down her stomach to circle her navel. Beca parts her legs further to give Chloe the room she needs to settle between them as a single kiss is pressed low on her abdomen.

Eyes still closed, Beca feels Chloe’s breath ghosting over her center, the sensation making her hands ball up the sheets. Soft hands land on her thighs, pulling her open even wider and she groans in anticipation.

“Look at me,” comes Chloe’s voice, quiet and serious. “I know you like to watch.”

It’s true. Beca somehow finds the strength to pry her eyes open and looks down to see Chloe staring back at her from between her legs. Without breaking eye contact, Chloe ducks her head down, opens her mouth, and swipes her flattened tongue up through Beca’s length.

They both moan at the contact, the deep vibrations from Chloe’s throat making Beca’s entire body tense and her hips rise into Chloe’s face. Beca fights hard to keep her eyes open but loses the battle when Chloe reaches for her hand, moving it from the bed sheets and into her hair. She licks into Beca again, another broad stroke that has Beca tangling red strands around her fingers, making Chloe hum into her center again.

“Ah – Chlo – just –” Beca pants as she squirms, trying to open herself even more to Chloe’s onslaught as a tongue prods her clit. Chloe stays there for a moment, briefly closing her lips around it before releasing it. Beca’s delirious, one hand suddenly in her own hair and the other still tangled in Chloe’s. Her hips jerk of their own accord despite Chloe’s hands holding her down.

There’s a brief pause and Beca wrenches her eyes open again in time to see Chloe drop lower. The tip of Chloe’s tongue teases into her, dipping inside for just a moment before pulling back. Beca grunts, her center tightening in anticipation, and Chloe repeats the motion once, twice, thrice, before she gives one more long lick back up through Beca.

Then, to Beca’s complete dismay, Chloe rises to climb back up her body, dislodging Beca’s hold on her hair. Wiping her mouth on her hand, Chloe asks, “Does yellow seem more appealing now?”

“Wh – what?” stutters Beca, taken her brain cells scattered.

“The dress,” whispers Chloe as she settles her hips back between Beca’s open legs.

“I – I don’t – I’m not – “ Beca tries to refuse, she really does. She knows what Chloe’s doing, how she’s taunting her, leaving her all worked up to get her to agree to that ridiculous costume.

“Hmm,” Chloe purses her lips. “Let’s try…”

And she leans over Beca, moving against her sensitive core and making her whimper. She places another kiss on Beca’s lips, letting her tongue poke through so Beca can taste herself. Beca’s hands fly to Chloe’s back, gripping tightly as she feels Chloe reach a hand down between them again to press into her center.

Beca’s whole body jerks and their kiss breaks when fingers move through wetness to circle around her swollen clit tightly. A slew of curses falls from her mouth when Chloe increases her pressure at the same time she nips at her neck. Chloe’s fingers trail down, circle her entrance, then glide back up to fully press on her clit, flicking it back and forth. Beca’s hips buck, needing Chloe to get on with it. Chloe doesn’t tease her for long – she certainly doesn’t need to – and in the next instant, her fingers dip lower and enter Beca, immediately thrusting deeply.

Beca cries out, unused to the pace Chloe’s setting. Sure, sometimes they go a little rough, but this is fast and dirty and needy, and she feels her walls twitching and clenching around Chloe’s fingers.

“Already, Bec?” Chloe asks, her voice full of awe.

Beca wants to object to that – Chloe’s been working her for what seems like hours – but she can’t reply. She’s seeing stars, her body moving with Chloe’s as Chloe uses her hips to drive into Beca, her fingers inside, palm rubbing against her clit. She’s scrabbling at Chloe’s back, moving to grab anywhere she can reach. Her entire body tenses and she’s so so close, just another push – then Chloe cheats yet again.

“So, about that dress?” she asks, easing out of and away from Beca before her orgasm can hit fully. Beca wants to cry and scream out at the loss of contact because she’d been so close and she’d do anything to get Chloe back inside her, anything, even wear that stupid fucking dress and –

“Yes, fine!” she groans. “I’ll do it, I’ll wear it, just please –”

That’s all Chloe needs. She drops back down, her mouth next to Beca’s ear as she’s instantly back inside Beca, pumping hard and fast, her palm pressing against Beca’s clit just right. Beca’s close again almost immediately, rocking into Chloe, matching her thrusts with the wiggle of her hips. Chloe’s fingers curl inside her, finding that sensitive spot and rubbing and Beca’s sent over the edge, hard, tightening around Chloe.

She has to bite onto Chloe’s shoulder to keep from yelling out. She thrashes against Chloe, wave after wave crashing over her. Chloe keeps her hand where it is, gently moving her fingers to ease Beca down slowly. When Beca’s body finally relaxes, Chloe pulls out delicately, making her gasp at the loss and the emptiness.

Chloe wipes her hand on her own thigh before laying down on her back next to Beca. They stare at the ceiling for a moment in silence, breathing hard. Beca is fully aware that she’d agreed to don a Belle dress in exchange for an orgasm, and she wonders vaguely at the moral implications of that.

Sex and Disney really shouldn’t mix. It’s weird.

After a moment, Beca realizes she’s been selfish. She props herself up on an elbow to look at Chloe, all stretched out next to her, a victorious smile on her lips. “My turn?” she asks, fully intending to give Chloe all she needs before the party.

Chloe cranes her neck to look toward Beca’s nightstand, checking her digital clock. After a second, she looks back to Beca and says brightly, “Nope! You’ll get your turn after the party.”

Beca’s mouth drops open in indignation. “What?” she replies. “But aren’t you all…” she gestures downward.

Chloe shrugs, not seeming to care. “Think of it as a business deal. You get half before, then half after the job is done.”

Blinking at her in shock, Beca can only mumble incoherently as Chloe sits up to get off the bed. “That’s, like, messed up.”

Chloe winks at her, putting on her bra again and stepping into her underwear. “Maybe. But it worked.”

Groaning in frustration, Beca throws her arm over her eyes, hearing the zip of Chloe’s dress as she puts it on.

“Now hurry up, I’ll have to redo my makeup and fix your hair,” Chloe urges.

Beca groans again but sits up to slide off the bed, stumbling slightly. She picks up her own bra and underwear and moves reluctantly toward the hideously yellow dress waiting for her.

There really isn’t anything Beca Mitchell won’t do for Chloe Beale. Not when she’s so persuasive.

[make-easter-gay-again]

Prompt: Bram giving Simon his soccer hoodie to wear to one of his games + soft supportive boyfriends

Hey, sorry this took, like, three days. I ended up writing 2.5k words, so I hope it’s worth it.

“Hey. You coming to the game with me?” Abby appeared out of nowhere, breaking Simon out of his daze. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head and figure out what she had just asked him.

“Huh?”

“You’re sitting with me at the game, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you just gonna sit up at the front like you usually do? With all of those girls who look like they don’t want to be there?”

“Yes, and you’re coming with me.”

“Why in the world would I do that? I like sitting in the back. I don’t feel pressured into looking like I care about what’s going on in the game.”

“Simon Spier.” She threw her arm around his shoulder, rising onto her toes to reach. He slowed his pace to help her keep up while balancing. “Don’t tell me Bram hasn’t asked you to the game.”

“Uh, no. Was he supposed to? He knows I’ve gone to all of them in the past for Nick. I’m sure he just assumes-”

“Simon. This is the first game of the season, but more importantly, it’s the first soccer game since you two started dating. There are customs for this. Specific ways that things always happen.”

“There are?”

“Jesus Christ. You don’t notice anything, do you?” She looked expantly at him, but he just shrugged and shook his head. She sighed. “I only sat in the front after I went out with Nick. That’s where you sit if you’re dating one of the players.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“And Bram really hasn’t asked you to go?”

“No… I mean I don’t think he’s mentioned it at all. I mean he’s talked about the game, but never anything that had to do with me being there. Maybe he just figures I’ll be there.”

“That’s not how this works. He has to know about it. It’s been a school tradition since the eighties. He’s been on Varsity since freshman year, since those seniors got kicked out for smoking weed. I wouldn’t think he’d push it this far.”

“Oh.”

Abby opened her mouth to say more, but she noticed Simon’s rapidly deflating responses and stopped herself. “I’m sure he will. And you still can sit down there with me. You’d totally be allowed to.”

He nodded.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Si.”

He crossed in front of her to enter his classroom, and she continued on, a concerned expression taking over her face.

By the time lunch rolled around, his sights hadn’t been raised. He ran into Bram multiple times in the hallway, but they only exchanged a few sentences in passing. He met up with Nick as he usually did, and they made their way through the lunch lines. When they returned to the table, Abby, Garrett, and Bram were all already waiting for them. Leah was still nowhere to be seen.

“Oh god,” Garrett groaned. “I have to fifth wheel the two worst couples to fifth wheel in the universe. Where’s Leah? I need someone to gag with.” All four of them simultaneously rolled their eyes and greeted their significant other. Bram reached for Simon’s hand under the table, and Simon held tight.

The conversation turned immediately to soccer, and as usual when this was the topic of discussion, it was used to try to explain the game to Simon and Leah. Today, the efforts were all pointed to Simon, since Leah was still yet to arrive. Everyone talking about soccer and the upcoming game stressed him out. He noticed Bram didn’t seem as nervous as he usually did when he was about to propose a date. In fact, he seemed more relaxed than usual. Definitely much more relaxed than Simon would be on his equivalent of the first game of a season: opening night. Shortly after Leah made her appearance, Simon rested his cheek on Bram’s shoulder, relieved the spotlight would be off of him for a few minutes.

“You’re going to the game, aren’t you Leah?” Nick asked.

“As much as I’d love to watch all of your asses get pounded into the ground by a team that doesn’t spend half of their practice time making out with someone, I can’t. English is pounding my ass into the ground.” She slammed a giant copy of Hamlet on the table. “I can’t understand a word of what they’re saying in this thing.”

Bram grabbed it and flipped through a few pages. “Most of it is just inverted sentences.”

“What are those?”

“It’s where the verb comes before the noun. There’s a lot of random pronouns, so if you can figure out who they’re referring to, it makes a lot more sense.”

Simon sighed. “Or, you could just do what I do. Look up a Shakespearean translator.”

Leah raised her eyebrows. “They have those?”

“They helped me through sophomore year. Also, I think you can buy fully translated versions of all of his stuff online.”

“Awesome.”

Simon smirked, and Bram jokingly bucked his head off his shoulder.

When the announcement sounded through the lunchroom for both soccer teams to report to the gym to warm up (and, according to Nick’s complaints, help set up for the pep rally), Simon begrudgingly lifted his head and moved it to rest in his hand.

Once half of the table’s population had left, Abby nudged Simon’s arm. “Hey, since Leah’s not coming, you don’t have an excuse not to sit in the front with me.”

Leah gasped. “I didn’t think about that. Yeah, Si, you get to sit in the front now.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?” Abby and Leah asked in unison.

“Because I still don’t particularly enjoy going to the games. I just go for Nick, usually.”

“But… you know, you might be the first guy ever to sit there.”

“That just makes it even less appealing.”

“But-“

“Just drop it. I’m going, but I’m sitting in the back like I usually do.” He didn’t mean to snap at them, but something in the back of his head definitely didn’t want him putting himself in front of the school like that.

Luckily, the bell rang, dismissing them from the lunchroom. He glanced over the table, then noticed a jacket still sitting on the bench next to him where Bram had been. He didn’t recognize it, but he picked it up and caught up to Abby to walk with her to her locker. They had a quick conversation about where to meet before the pep rally, and he turned to walk away. She gasped.

“Simon!”

He turned around, glancing at a clock on the far wall of a classroom in eyesight. “What?”

“The hoodie!” He reached behind his head, but she sighed and pulled his arm down by the elbow. “Not that one, you dingus. The one you’re holding! Is it Bram’s?”

He furrowed his brow. “How did you know?”

“This is great!”

“Why is this great? It’s just a hoodie.”

“No! It is not just a hoodie. Look at it!”

He held it up. It was simply Bram’s grey soccer team hoodie. ‘Greenfeld’ was spelled out on the back, and the front showed the school’s logo.

“How are you not getting this yet?”

“Getting what?”

“The soccer jacket? Bram’s soccer jacket? For god’s sake. Have you ever seen a soccer player wearing one of those?”

“Uh… I don’t think so?”

“That’s because those hoodies aren’t for the players. They’re for those people sitting in the front.”

“The girlfriends?”

“The soccer hoodie is the mark of a relationship. Bram didn’t accidentally leave that. He left it for you.”

“Are you sure? He loses stuff all the time.”

“Spier, trust me. I know what’s going on. I have one of my own. Go to class.” She shut her locker and speedwalked down the rapidly clearing hallway.

He muttered a quick “Shit” and followed after her. He wouldn’t have any of the things he needed for class, but he was late to 6th period far too often. He made it in just before the bell, the only thing in his arms being the jacket. She handed him a pen and grinned at him.

“You’re blushing,” she mouthed.

“I am?” He took a moment to feel his cheek with the back of his hand. “Shit, I am.”

She smirked, and they turned their attention to the front of the room. Only a few minutes later, he tapped his foot twice to get her attention.

“When’s the pep rally?”

She held up eight fingers for a second, and he sighed and slumped back in his chair.

“Pull yourself together. Other people have hoodies they want to wear too.”

“Ew, gross. An Eisner hoodie.”

“Fuck off.”

He hated that the last two classes of the day were the only two he shared with Bram. Now the empty desk stuck out like a sore thumb. He kept the jacket balled up in his lap, anxiously fiddling with his pen for the excruciating hour and twenty minutes before they were released to the gym. Thank god he didn’t have to endure the extra twenty minutes a normal school day would have prompted.

As four grades streamed in one direction, the hallway became a clogged artery. The school was definitely experiencing some heartburn at this rate.  He pushed his way through, desperately searching for Abby.

“How do I do this?” He held up the crumpled hoodie, and she pulled an almost identical one from her backpack.

“So you’ve decided to sit with me in the front?”

“Absolutely! Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because three hours ago you seemed dead set on looking at your phone for the entire game. Anyway, first, you find a bathroom. Then you take off the seven layers of jackets you’re wearing and put that one on. Then you meet me back here. It’s not difficult.”

“Good. At this point, there are so many ways things are supposed to happen, I wouldn’t be too surprised if you told me I had to sacrifice a virgin.”

“Dark, Simon.”

“That’s for the comment on my jackets.”

“Touché. Go put on your hoodie, for god’s sake.”

The gym was brightly lit, big, and everything you touched squeaked in a different note. The seniors had first dibs on the bleachers, and the rest of the seats are a death match free-for-all. The Varsity and Junior Varsity teams are indistinguishable for the moment. They all separate into different clumps, talking to whoever they know the best. The only senior seats left were near the back, and they had to kick out a couple of sophomores who thought they could disguise themselves. Simon looked around for other soccer hoodie wearers. They were generally pretty spread out, but most of them were near at least one other. Like Abby, their jackets looked giant on them. The sleeves reached past their hands, and the length seemed absurdly long. Simon’s fit him normally.

The pep rally was the least peppy thing he had ever seen. The principal got up and spoke into a very squeaky microphone about teamwork and perseverance. Just as they were about to be released, Abby grabbed his arm. “You ready for the best part?”

“What would that be?” She stood straight up, pulling him with her. His eyes widened, and he turned bright red. “What are you doing?”

“This is what happens. We’re wearing hoodies, so we leave first. See?” The girls he had noticed before followed their lead and started for the gym floor. She began to lead him forward.

His breathing became more rapid. The color drained from his face, and he tried to stop her from walking. “Abby, I can’t do this.”

“Sure you can! Bram’s right there!”

“No, Abby, not in front of the entire school. I don’t care about being the first or being an example, and I definitely don’t care about stupid traditions that weren’t made for guys. I can’t do this.”

“Are you sure?” Her grip on his arm loosened, but she was too afraid he would pass out to let go entirely. He nodded. “Okay. Come on.” She led him back to their seats, and he collapsed down. She shot death glares at anyone who so much as glanced at them and wrapped her arm around his shoulders as he hid his face in his hands.

The gym emptied slowly around them, and he seemed shakier every second. Abby made eye contact with Nick and nodded, telling him to go ahead without her. He didn’t. He flung himself into the crowd descending the stairs.

Bram appeared first, as he left the line of soccer players the second Simon sat down again. Abby caught his eye and mouthed an apology, but he shook his head. He knelt down in front of Simon so that he would be in eyesight if he were to look up from his hands. “Hey.”

Simon didn’t look up. At the very sound of Bram’s voice, he burst into tears.

Abby released Simon from her grip so Bram could take him into his once he got up onto the bench next to him. Simon melted into him, burying his head under his chin. The crying ended after just the one distressed sob, so he tried to steady his breathing.

Nick arrived and took a seat by Abby. “You okay, Simon?”

“I’m an idiot,” Simon mumbled in response.

“No, Si, it was my fault,” Abby began. “I made it into a big deal.”

“I gave him the hoodie,” Bram argued.

“And I talked you into it,” Nick added. “Well, really it was Garrett, but I was there too.”  

Simon picked up his head, but he didn’t try to get out of Bram’s arms. “It doesn’t have to be anyone’s fault. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jeez, How did all of you ask that at exactly the same time? You scare me sometimes. Yes, I’m fine. I just got freaked out by all of the people. You two have a game to get to.”

“We don’t have to sit in the front,” Abby suggested.

“And you don’t have to wear the hoodie. It’s a stupid tradition anyway.”

Simon turned his head to press a kiss to Bram’s cheek. “I think it’s cute.” Bram rolled his eyes, but only to hide the blush creeping to his face. “Now let me go,” Simon ordered. Bram laughed and stood up.

“Come on, Nick.”

“Let’s kick some ass!” Nick practically leaped down from the bleachers, and they sprinted for the door.

Abby looped her arm through Simon’s. “The back?”

“Just for today.”

“If you say so.” They stood again, and this time, they made it to the gym floor.

[writingonjorvik]

Impromptu Can We Discuss: Can We Discuss the Silver Fox?

No, this is not an ok thing for SSO to do, and there are industry examples of why. Let me walk the unfamiliar through the most recent Battlefront II controversy:

Not two months ago, Electronic Arts (EA) released Star Wars Battlefront II to massive criticism. The primary complaint was that progress in the game was locked behind loot boxes and micro transactions of the most aggressive and egregious kind. Loot boxes traditionally only give cosmetic rewards, but EA’s loot boxes rewarded abilities to characters, making the player stronger for sinking money. EA’s defense was that the currency can be grinded in the game, meaning all content is purchasable through play. Here’s the catches though:

1) The game already costs $60 USD.

2) One character is about $200 USD to fully upgraded, in a competitive first person shooter. Having a fully upgraded character in a competitive game is arguably the point, making this move very manipulative of competitive players.

3) To unlocked all of the content that came at release, a player would need to play about 5 hours a day, every day, for 6 years straight. On a smaller scale, to unlock a single character, it meant 48 hours of consecutive play.

4) They released a second game in this window, Shadow of Mordor, with similar though not as bad micro-transactions, which similarly did poorly because of the model (and its on controversy).

5) All of this ended with EA having about a 20% drop in their stock value, a huge loss in profit due to protests, they’re being sued by three states and a few countries for encouraging gambling, nearly losing their deal with LucasArts, and all ending with EA having to lower their costs and then pull micro transaction from the game to fix this. What they’re going to do, we don’t know yet.

TL;DR, EA got hit very, very hard for making this move, and sticking to their guns on it is at a huge cost. But EA can eat that cost, SSO couldn’t. Now, SSO’s case isn’t one-to-one with EA’s, but it is similar enough to make the comparison. 

1) It’s $75 USD for lifetime, the most cost effective membership option, which gives the player access to earning Star Coins in game through the allowance.

2) The already existing fox costs $17 USD, and this silver fox costs a minimum of $65 USD. Yes, you get Star Coins, but that’s not why people would be buying these bundles right now.

3) To purchase the red fox means 5 weeks of play, if you already have membership. The silver fox is in no way obtainable in any other way. There’s nothing inherently wrong with exclusives, but when these are the only two options for a new, very highly demanded pet, it’s manipulative.

4) SSO has no other games to fall back on, so if this game hurts from this sales campaign, it’s all SSO has.

5) There hasn’t been any legal action towards SSO, this only happened this morning, but if any of the above did happen to SSO, they could not just shrug off those losses. Considering the number of parents I’ve seen respond, it is a possibility, and the precedent is not in SSO’s favor.

SSO’s defense is that these pets are very difficult to make, regarding the already high price of the red fox, that these aren’t requirements to have, and that this is a bonus to already existing sales.

To that first argument, it’s...ok. It’s not a very good argument, considering that the most profitable model is micro transactions in small increments. This is your mobile game models, or your League of Legends and Overwatch skins, or World of Warcraft offers. Small purchases that can be earned through playing the game, but expedite a not very difficult process or remove low chance stakes. So while there is something valid in what SSO is saying, there are much better models to put these pets on, particularly since they, unlike horses, don’t unlock content or stat sets and are purely cosmetic. While it is true SSO gives its players the Star Coin allowances, that doesn’t mean that system of small purchases is invalidated. It just means SSO fails to use it.

To the second argument, this is really a massive “F U.” It’s trying to avoid the responsibility of the actions SSO makes by saying it’s the player’s fault for spending the money, not SSO’s for making the opportunity. It’s corporate as fuck, and largely diabolical when broken down. It’s your fault for spending your money, not SSO for asking you to spend an offensively large sum of it. That’s like a casino blaming you for gambling there. The point of their business is for you to gamble, but they need to be responsible too. The point of SSO is for you to spend money, but they still need to be responsible about it.

To the third argument, I have to agree with the frequent point from players that there was a sale last week. Adding this kind of offer only encourages unhealthy whale behavior. For those of you not familiar with the term “whale,” it’s a games industry term for someone who willingly will sink hundreds of dollars into a game, usually for status and/or progress. SSO already, as a more expensive MMO, is prime for whales. Adding this offer now only encourages players to be whales, and for a younger target audience, that’s a morally questionable standard to be encouraging. For the older audience and the parents playing, that kind of spending will eventually burn out.

Further, to the argument from some players that SSO needs money to pay its employees, yes, they do. But that doesn’t justify SSO’s expectation for players to just hand over $100+ USD for their game. It makes the game massively exclusive, and damages the company in the long term to only rely on their whales. While you may be able to hand over that money, or have no interest in this exclusive and therefore aren’t bothered by not getting it, that doesn’t mean this isn’t manipulative of people who are very big fans of the game or want features like this or completionists who are compulsively driven to own everything. SSO needs money, but if it wants to build trust with its player base to continue giving it money, it needs that money to be rewarded equally and fairly, or players won’t spend their money here. If the reward isn’t worth the sink, no one is going to buy it. So long term, SSO will be losing money. Instead of encouraging people then to spend money they may not even have because the game needs it, encourage SSO to more fairly reward its players to justify that spending.

Additionally, the people who would lose money in this situation is the executives, not the average employee. If SSO goes under, sure, they all lose their job, but they have to pay everyone’s salaries first or it’s a legal case. The only people losing money in this situation is the people taking the profit off the top that would otherwise be used to expand the game. Don’t think you’re helping the little guy by spending more money. That’s capitalism bull. The only people who profit here are the shareholders and execs.

Fixing this one means SSO needs to get off its high horse and apologize. There is no modern comparison where the outcome of this goes well, long term or short term, and the best thing SSO can do for its image is back down and apologize. SSO should reduce the price of the foxes, and make more colors before having this silver fox be an exclusive. Additionally, that bonus should be available in all Star Coin packages. In the future, SSO needs to avoid having high priced limited editions and exclusives, for pets, clothing, and horses, to prevent its players from developing unhealthy whale tendencies. I think SSO should additionally lower its already existing prices for Star Coins and Star Rider Membership to make the game more available to the general player base, but that’s a topic for another time.

If you want SSO to do this, definitely write in to them. You’re welcome to use any of the arguments I presented here, and if you need more, my ask box is open. But most importantly, vote with your wallet. If you are opposed to this kind of business model, do not give SSO your money, now or in the future. Encourage your friends to not give them money. Don’t just grumble about the cost and spend the money. If you are opposed to this move, don’t buy it. If enough people tell SSO with their wallets that this is not a viable option, that its player base will not support this kind of sales campaign, it will have to find another option if it wants to stay in business.

For a piece of perspective to go out on, image I tried to sell you on a $60 USD game. I gave you minimum description of what it was, though I clearly love it, and said you needed to pay another $60 USD after that to really get your money’s worth. Would you buy?

[mytennisdiary]

Australian Open 2021 - Day 1

Sunday, Feb 7 - Sunday Feb 21

This is my first attempt at recording my impressions while watching a major tennis tournament. I am watching from my home in Pleasantville, NY via the YouTube TV app on my Playstation 4. This is the 3rd tennis major since my father passed away in August 2020. I’m considering turning the finished product in to a book. I can imagine creating short books for every major sporting event I watch. It’s just an idea, but one which interests me today.

Monday, Feb 8

I’m not watching any of the first day live since Super Bowl 55 was last night. The Bucs beat Kansas City convincingly behind Brady and a strong performance from their defense. I begin the tournament on Monday morning.

It’s in the mid-60s in Melbourne, unseasonably cool for this time of year. The tournament is being broadcast on ESPN and much of the talk revolves around the complicated logistics of holding a tournament in a country that has practically eradicated Covid-19 and wants to keep it in check. The run up to the tournament was dominated by headlines about players being confined to their hotel rooms for 19 hours a day; potentially more in the case of those who flew on the same planes as players who were quarantined. Meanwhile, outrage at the preferential treatment given to star players by Tennis Australia has also made waves, with players such as Tennys Sandgren publicly airing grievances. Top players were allowed more members in their parties. They stayed at different hotels and had more expansive access to practice facilities. Patrick McEnroe and Mary Joe Fernandez are the initial commentary team. They are happy to have a crowd back in the seats, but to my eye the number of attendees is rather meager. 30,000 people are being admitted each day, but they are split into 3 sections and not allowed to go to other areas of the ground.  They claim that Rod Laver arena will be about half full for the final. Another wrinkle is the introduction of a fully automatic line-calling system. One of the strangest aspects is that players still have the ability to challenge calls, but since the same system that provides the challenge replays makes the call in the first place, they have no chance to actually win the challenge. The challenge now feels like something vestigial whose purpose has shifted from practical to therapeutic, allowing players to see the call in more detail without any ability to alter it. When a ball was close to the line, either in or out, they will put a little alert up that says “close call”. It’s strange, but the commentators seem to think that this system takes a bit of pressure off the players since they don’t have to be so focused on spotting close calls for themselves and knowing when to challenge. Another interesting detail about the line calling system is that they’ve programmed it to make calls with the voices of first responders from Australia. Masks are not required for fans in the stands. Some are wearing them, but others are not. Apparently, you are supposed to wear them when moving around the grounds. A lot of talk about how things are ostensibly normal, and yet there are these strange restrictions on this tournament. Seems like the restrictions might be more for appearances than anything else. Guess you would have to know what kind of big local events (concerts, sporting events) are being held and what conditions are like at those.

An interesting aside came from Chrissy when she discussed players warm-up routines. The players put in 30 minutes to an hour of hard cardio and strength training. Chrissy joked that the exercise they get just in warm-ups is what she used to get in a match. The courts are apparently playing a little bit quicker this year, even in the cool conditions. Apparently Tennis Australia used a different company to lay the surface of the courts this year and the quicker bounce was something that they had specifically in mind. The reason for the speed up has to do with there now being less sand/grit on the top of the surface than years past. They’re also using different balls this year after a lot of complaints last year that the balls were fluffing up. Also had a couple of matches on Margaret Court arena disrupted by birds.

The broadcast begins with Osaka vs Pavlyuchenkova. Osaka is wearing a bright orange skirt with a black top and leggings, decorated with a blue, tan, and black camouflage pattern. Osaka pulled out of warmup tournament in semifinals with a shoulder “niggle”. She looks calm and balanced, hitting the ball deep into the court and attacking the corners off of short balls. The days of the inconsistent Osaka that followed her first 2 majors seem long behind us. Pavlyuchenkova looked uncomfortable with Osaka’s power early in the match. She did respond in the second set, imposing her will to a greater degree. However, it was clear that she was pressing to go for more to get ahead in points. Every time she made inroads Osaka countered with dazzling play. Osaka’s only weakness appears to be her approach to net, which doesn’t quite look smooth. She runs around balls to hit her two handed backhand which appears to be her more comfortable shot. Osaka wins 6-1 6-2 in just over an hour.

Simultaneously, V. Williams vs Flipkens were locked in a tight veteran battle. Venus, now 40 years old was wearing an aqua colored dress and a white tennis cap. Her hair is shorter than I’ve ever seen it. She’s always had a tendency to look a bit gangly and off balance, but there is still some of the smooth grace she used to display. Venus didn’t win a single set in a major played in 2020, but she took the first set in a back and forth afair here. Flipkens, a 35 year old Belgian who wears sporty glasses and plays without a coach. She doesn’t give Venus a lot of pace and is looking to attack short balls and second serves with her forehand. The match was not without drama. Flipkens was able to make her uncomfortable with slice and did a good job anticipating her shots. That being said, Venus’s power ultimately carried her through. 7-5 6-2 in around 90 minutes.

The next match featured S. Williams vs Siegemund. This is Serena’s 11th attempt to win her 24th career major. She’s wearing a pink, red, and black patterned body suit, not entirely dissimilar to the catsuit she word in Paris two year ago. Her left leg is entirely exposed, whereas her right leg is covered. She looks like she could be attending an aerobics class in the 80s. Siegemund, the 31 year old German, is a quality player, and like Pavlyuchnkova has been given an unfortunate draw. She likes to take the ball early and slice off the forehand. Serena was broken on her first service game, but quickly recovered. She has the easy power working today and looks to be rolling. Chrissy and Renee agree that Serena looks calm and in control; a good sign for her. Another talking point for Chrissy is Serena’s movement, which she thinks looks better than it has in years, especially charging to nets after drop shots. Siegemund never looked comfortable, especially dealing with Serena’s returns of her soft serves. 6-1 6-1. Apparently Serena is a big Tom Brady fan. I know she lives in Florida. Their were jokes about their ages in the post-match interview.

B. Pera vs Kerber has started 5-0 for Pera. She’s an American citizen born in Croatia who I’ve never seen before. She’s tall, but not too tall. Seems to have strong legs. Hits good flat ground strokes. The forehand is powerful although can go off at times. Kerber, now 33, hasn’t played well in a while. Her best showing at a major last year was the 4th round. Pera did show some nerves, letting Kerber back into the match, but Kerber couldn’t recover from losing the first 9 games of the match. She just doesn’t have an offensive weapon. And although she can come up with amazing shots when she’s on her heels, she just doesn’t do it consistently enough to win matches at a high level any more. Bernarda Pera is certainly one to watch for the future. 6-0 6-4 in just over an hour.

Monfils and Milan both out in a couple of first round five-setters to unknowns. Gael was holding back tears in an emotional post-match press conference.

The next big match on Laver was Thiem vs Kukushkin. We joined it at 5-5 in the first set just in time to see Them broken by the krafty veteran from Kazakstan. Thiem dug in, playing some long rallies with his slice backhand before asserting himself with some big shots. Grueling and gritty first set won by Them is a pretty comfortable tiebreak. Interesting Kukushkin fact, his wife is actually his coach. Apparently she went to school to be a coach, giving her a lot more training to do this than most of the coaches who are just former players. I wonder what you learn at coaching school. A comical moment occurred when it turned out that the woman in Kukushkin was not actually his wife/coach. In fact,  Kukushkin and her apparently split and McEnroe read a note on air from Kukushkin saying that he way annoyed that commentators kept mixing up his new girlfriend with his ex wife. They also told a story about Kukushkin who, growing up in Russia, used to play in an empty swimming pool, as well as on wood courts at a nearby prison, by necessity. Apparently wood courts really used be a thing. Jason Goodall said he played on them in england. Kukushkin is hitting it big off his forehand, as big as Thiem, but it just isn’t enough.  Thiem wore Kukushkin down throughout the match. 7-6 6-2 6-3

We went over to Zverev vs Giron. Zverev, in a sleeveless tank top looks like he’s read for the beach. Giron is an American who played college tennis at UCLA. He’s broken through in the last 18 months. I think I’ve seen him once before. McEnroe says he’s a counter-puncher with a “clean” backhand. Not that big and no big weapon, but seems to be rounding into form. Giron moves very well and is able to time his contact with ball in a way that makes him dangerous on a faster court. Zverev was swinging hard in the first set but making way too many errors. Giron got up big in the 1st set tiebreaker but then tightened up. He failed to convert 4 set point chances as Zverev got more conservative and played rock solid. However, on the fifth one, Giron pulled out the set when Zverev couldn’t do enough with his shots. The 2nd serve continues to be a problem for Zverev. He lets Giron back into the 2nd set. Zverev oscillates between being aggressive and dictating points and then falling back and being too passive, especially in tense moments. He almost let the 2nd set tiebreak get away, but pulled it out on his 3rd set point. Zverev was dialed in from the 3rd set on and Giron went away. 6-7 7-6 6-3 6-2

Taylor Fritz, the only seeded American man pulled out a 4 set win against Ramos-Vinolas. 7-6 3-6 6-2 7-6

Bianca Andrescu returned to women’s tennis with a 3 set win over the Romanian Buzarnescu. She teared up after the match.

Tiafoe vs Travaglia got some coverage next. Travaglia has a low ball toss and his serve can come at your pretty quick. Both he and Tiafoe seem to tighten up at key moments. There were 6 breaks in the first set and Tiafoe barely outlasted Travaglia in the tiebreak. Travaglia had played 3 matches in the last 2 days and the first set seems to have deciding in breaking his spirit. When Travaglia started slamming his thighs with his racket it was clear that his legs were failing him. Tiafoe seems to be at his best when he plays steady and cuts down his mistakes. He doesn’t seem to have the kind of weapon that could threaten a top player. 7-6 6-2 6-2

Dimitrov vs Cilic met in a battle of former top 10 seeds. Dimitrov served big to close out the first set. Cilic is a bit of a shell of himself, but he still found the ability at times to dictate with the serve and forehand. Despite showing some nerves in the conclusion, Grigor looked far superior athletically. 6-4 6-2 7-6

Augere-Aliasime vs Stebe saw Felix winning pretty comfortably. However, Gilbert discussed how Felix is 0-7 in his career in finals, often getting blown out. He seems to have problems with nerves which lead him to lose games in bunches. 6-2 6-4 6-2

Careno-Busta took out Nishikori in straight sets.

Halep vs Cabrera showcased a young Australian talent who doesn’t quite look ready for the big time. Halpe is neutralizing her power effectively and, as always, is able to change the kinds of looks she gives her opponent to keep her off balance. She baits Cabrera into repeatedly going for too much. The match was called by commentators from Tennis Australia. 6-2 6-1 Halep is playing doubles with a young Australian girl too. They got a wildcard to this event. 

Djokovic vs Chardy was the final match on Rod Laver. One of the big talking points about Djokovic is that he has beefed up and put on some more muscle. He kept Chardy off balance all match. Chardy didn’t play badly, but Novak just frustrates guys and forces them to do too much. Novak had some nice lunging volleys and short responses to drop shots. 6-3 6-1 6-2 in about 90 minutes.

Kyrgios vs Ferreira Silva sees Kyrgios return to action after 11 months. His forehand looks strong. He’s a good frontrunner. Served it out easily.

Shapovalov vs Sinner was the marquee matchup of day 1 on paper. Sinner, the 19 year old, riding a 10-game winning streak had just won an ATP title the day before against Travaglia, but he had looked visibly exhausted doing so. Ranked 31, he’s the underdog against the 21 year old Shapovalov, ranked 12, but Dennis has lost his last 6 matches. Sinner’s biggest weakness is his first serve. Shapovalov’s weakness is his defense. He doesn’t have enough of a steady, reliable game when his weapons aren’t working. Sinner wins the first set after getting up an early break. Sinner seems to get the ball so deep so easily. Shapovalov has problems with consistency. However, Sinner isn’t capitalizing on his many break point chances and Denis is hanging around. Interesting fact; Sinner was an excellent skier earlier in his life. Brad Gilbert praises Sinner for his ability to diffuse power, something Shap doesn’t do as well. By extension, Sinner’s hard-down-the-middle return gives Shap problems. Shap is able to come up with some spectacular shots on the run and Sinner does seem to eventually let down in long points with errors. Shap’s errors tend to happen earlier in points, particularly on serve returns, which for him are inconsistent. Shap also seems to get too upset when he loses points. Very demonstrative when compared to Sinner who is so calm. Denis had some easier service games in the second set and his forehand seems to be hurting Sinner more. Brad Gilbert is calling this match with Chris Fowler. I think that Gilbert is one of the best color commentators. He has some of the most insightful observations about tendency and strategy. He also has a goofy side and he loves to tell stories. He feels like a real character and not a robot. He always pulls out irreverent nicknames; so far “Escape from Alcatraz”, “Weekend at Bernie’s” and “Sin City”. Sinner just not taking advantage of break points; he’s 1 for 11 early in the 3rd set. He fought off a few early in the 2nd and 3rd sets in ways that might just be breaking Sinner’s spirit. (Sinner escorted a moth off the court with his racket). Shapovalov, winning a lot of points off his first serve and displaying a much more successful defensive approach, has turned the match completely around. After dropping the 2nd set, Sinner was looking listless, making a lot of errors. Then, halfway through the 4th set Sinner had a second wind and suddenly was showing positive emotion. He started giving Denis a different look, dropping back on the return, and he cut out a lot of the errors. Shapovalov got into an argument with the chair about not being allowed to go to the bathroom and then called the trainer. They played a really tight first game of the fifth set. Shapovalov was able to dictate play with his forehand and push a tired Sinner around the court in order to eventually get the break. Then Shapovalov pulled out some underhand serving and aggressive serve-and-volley play. He took advantage of Sinner’s extremely deep return position, a strategic decision that seems to have been a mistake since Sinner often didn’t get his returns deep enough and was able to be caught being pushed too far off the court to recover. Sinner never went away, pushing the set all the way to 5-4 and even having a break point chance which he missed by a couple of inches on what would have been an incredible cross court winner on a Denis approach to the net. Shapovalov showed nerves, but ultimately finished the match strong with a winner. Best match of the first day by far and potentially a preview of many future matchups which will come far later in tournaments than the first round. 3-6 6-3 6-2 4-6 6-4 in an almost 4-hour battle.

Maxime Cressy, a young serve-and-volley American, got a straight set win and will play Zverev in the 2nd round.

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: GM 29 - CGY

4-3 Regulation Loss.

As Sabres fans we’ve dealt with fifty shades of losing the last decade plus. We’ve seen seasons tanked, we’ve seen them lost, we’ve seen them good at the start and bad at the end, we’ve seen them bad at the start and good at the end, we’ve seen every version of losing. When this team went into a tailspin in November it was like old hat. We marched out the think pieces about the “Same old Sabres” that some of us seem eternally on the verge of writing. We manufactured memes about an inactive GM and antiquated coach. We criticized everyone in the organization right up to Terry and Kim for having too much fun in the box seats in Dallas on Thanksgiving. Say what you will about the Pegulas I’ll probably agree with you, but you can’t really get owners fired. Say what you will about Jason Botterill not converting on a trade that’s felt impending for five months now. But have we not seen something unique in Ralph Krueger? Yeah, Jack Eichel has fully arrived as a star in this league and Victor Olofsson has emerged as the first diamond in the rough late-round pick since… Marcus Foligno? But in terms of the overall revelation of having a team that won lots then lost lots and now is once again winning, a new shade of being a fan we haven’t got here in a while, there is an enigma beyond the Captain here: Coach Krueger. I got thinking this way after the Devils fired John Hynes. The Sabres got a Coach fired for the first time since late 2011 when an embarrassing loss to the Sabres got Washington’s Coach fired. Erik Wollschlager at Die by the Blade wrote up the parallel to a remarkably similar 2011-2012 Sabres team that similarly found itself… uh… “competitively middling”. Apart from the weirdness that is the Sabres getting another team’s coach fired, there is a comparison there we’re missing: Hynes lost his job in New Jersey because he failed to motivate a fairly stacked roster there. I’m not saying the Sabres are nearly as stacked but would it be crazy to think part of the reason the Sabres have pulled themselves out of a terrible November unlike so many past seasons is because they have a motivator as Coach? It helps that he’s able to strategize creatively in an odd roster crunch. It’s a theory I’m working on. Give it a good think. It’s making more sense to me each game.

Last night Ralph Krueger’s side ran into a Flames team that knew what to do to frustrate him. Like we’ve seen in most of the Sabres losses the way to beat us is clogging the neutral zone, eliminating second chance opportunities and well… shutting down the almost nonexistent powerplay. Equal time: these two teams stayed close in the shots category the whole game but from about the halfway point on it looked like Calgary had the clear upper hand. The visitors however drew first blood. Victor Olofsson was working the puck around behind the Flames net about three minutes in before launching it along the boards to Rasmus Ristolainen at the blueline. Risto took a mid-strength shot for his standards and both Jack Eichel and Sam Reinhart were buzzing around the shooting lane looking for the tip. The tip that put the puck in past David Rittich belonged to Reinhart. Even before the Flames got the equalizing goal there was daylight for the pessimistic among us in this game. The Buffalo Sabres Hockey team got three powerplay opportunities in the first period. THREE OF THEM. THREE TWO MINUTE SPANS WITH AN EXTRA SKATER. I only yell it because it seems they forgot those are finite periods of time you are statistically supposed to score! They did not. They didn’t in the first or the second period. You know who did? Johnny Gaudreau. JOHNNY HOCKEY cashed in on the very first Flames powerplay to even it up with 3:18 left in the first period. Wouldn’t he look good in Blue and Gold? This game started at 9pm eastern so the second period felt late and for the early bedtimers among us the second period might have fooled you for a nightmare.

Buffalo played confused defense. I don’t know how else to put it. Calgary took over the scoring chances battle, allowing few opportunities for the Sabres in the offensive zone. The time Buffalo was in the defensive zone was atrocious, particularly when it was the Jake McCabe and Zach Bogosian line defending. Bogo seems to think he needs to never look away from the puck carrier to be a good defenseman. To the expense of the defensive scheme both guys just didn’t know how to help. When Calgary finally broke through for the go-ahead goal it was almost comical. Poor Henri Jokiharju loses the puck on the blue line during a Sabres powerplay and Tobias Rieder takes it on a breakaway that ultimately went five hole on Linus Ullmark. That’s right, the go-ahead goal was shorthanded. Those sting. It got worse too, much worse. A few minutes later Mikael Backlund and Sean Monahan teamed up for a fake-out play on the rush. Monahan scored from a tight angle as Ullmark was still getting to the post from the Backlund fake. If the 3-1 lead didn’t hurt enough Buffalo would get four additional powerplay opportunities into the third period that were fruitless. For those keeping track at home that put the Sabres powerplay at 0-for-7 on the night. The powerplay has fallen so far from where it was in October. If it was converting at just 10% the Sabres would probably never have been so far behind. The frustrating night continued into a third period that did provide some surprises for those able to stay up for it.

Who do you hate most on the Calgary Flames? It maybe a hard question to answer since they are so far out of the company of regular competitors for Buffalo. I have your answer: Milan Lucic. Even if you don’t remember what he did to Ryan Miller you don’t need to watch much of his work to hate him. He’s an old fashion goon with zero goals on the season until… ops, I gave it away. A Jeff Skinner pass is intercepted all the way back in the Sabres offensive zone so Derek Ryan and Dillon Dube (both real names) go off toward Ullmark on a 3-on-1 rush dragging Milan Lucic behind as the slowest, heaviest trailer you can imagine. They pass to each other all saucy and what not seeing that it worked on the Monahan goal and drop it to Lucic at the last minute. Ullmark was deked out on the ice with Brandon Montour looking down at him like Mama’s lasagna had just spilled and so my dearest Sabre, perhaps second only to the Captain, gets the indignity of being the recipient of Lucic’s first goal of the season. It hurts just to write. The Flames are now up 4-1 with sixteen minutes left in the third. You’d be forgiven for turning off the TV now. But there was still some fight left and this is something worth mentioning: the Buffalo Sabres attempted a comeback. They didn’t give up, they also didn’t win, but they made it close when they didn’t deserve to. Victor Olofsson and Jake McCabe teamed up for a weird, deflection goal at 17:16 to bring them within two. Then, after Ullmark was pulled for the extra man, Jack Eichel slapped one in to preserve his point streak. 4-3 was where it ended as Eichel’s goal came in the very last minute of play. To be honest, preserving that point streak was a pretty big relief.

I couldn’t rage about this game. I raged for the Boston games. I raged for that Chicago game. I raged so hard about the Minnesota game that I didn’t even write a blog about it. We’re not even halfway through the season, I got to save some steam here. But I am getting defensive of this coach. As I laid out at the beginning of this postgame, I think he’s been blamed a bit too much for the Sabres struggles. Krueger broke up Ristolainen and McCabe, I think I’ve forgiven him for taking so long to do that because the Dahlin injury made me realize, just like with this GM not making a move for a forward, some things are out of the Coach’s hands. His two big bets are paying off: the odd number defenseman/forward rotation remains not ideal in the absence of a trade but has catalyzed the production of Jimmy Vesey, Johan Larsson, Rasmus Asplund and Henri Jokiharju. Sure, I’d like to see Lawrence Pilut in Buffalo but here we are, CC in Botterill on that complaint. The other bet was moving Casey Mittelstadt to the wing. It seems like that was an idea Sabres twitter had as the shit hit the fan last season but now that the Coach is doing it we’re kinda just noticing it in passing. Casey hasn’t yet gotten the goals to show for it but he’s driving play more than we’ve seen. Considering he’s in a contract year I don’t mind this situation as much. And you might have noticed shortly after we all got upset about Colin Miller being in the Press Box, he wasn’t in the Press Box anymore. Krueger makes some confounding moves but when they don’t work he fixes it. He’s willing to evolve and change and the is the fundamental difference between him and Housley. What I’m saying is the problems we still see on this roster lie with the GM, not the Coach. Once again, just a working theory. Like it, share it, and of course comment on it. I suspect defending a Coach elicits some strong reactions just like the Lucic goal elicited a strong emotional reaction from me.

I said going into this trip I expected the Sabres to get 4 out of 6 points. No, even this optimist isn’t sticking to that prediction after they forfeited both points against Calgary. That said, Vancouver is literally a single game better right now and in spite of their better play as of late I don’t think the Sabres will simply lay down and die on Saturday. You can get two points there no matter how rested they are. Edmonton? Well… we’ll cross that bridge when it comes I guess. Are the Sabres back? I thought so. What about them Bills, eh? Do you think they can win the division? Whatever to not talk anymore about this game. Let’s Go Buffalo!

Thanks for Reading.

P.S. And yet again, somehow at the time of the writing of this blog the Sabres remain in a playoff spot.

[4lyeskas]

a game of you

read it on AO3 SERIES: Yuri!!! On Ice PAIRING: Jean-Jacques Leroy x Seung-gil Lee RATING: E / NSFW TAGS: lingerie; teasing; friendly wagers; lap dance

written at the request for @rainlikestars​ and for the prompt fill for the winner of my twitter fanfic giveaway

The opportunity comes unexpectedly, but it’s welcome.

It’s not that JJ doesn’t adore Seung-gil, because he does. He admires Seung-gil’s tenacity, his talent, his ruthless determination to remain himself and not change a thing in the face of the pressures of figure skating and publicity. It reminds JJ a lot of himself.

(There are many other things he likes about Seung-gil: the small smile Seung-gil gets around his dog; the careful and meticulous way those hands work in the kitchen; the unflappable way he continues to allow his mother to dress him; the way he watches JJ skate, silent, eyes narrowed in scrutiny, but always believing JJ will put the best performance out on the ice. JJ doesn’t say these things out loud, thinks them quietly to himself in the mornings he gets to wake up beside Seung-gil in his hotel room, the rare times they get to spend the night together.)

It’s not that JJ doesn’t adore Seung-gil, because he does, but damn if he doesn’t sometimes get the urge to see if that unshakable composure of his won’t break. Because no matter what romantic or naughty gesture JJ makes, the most he’s gotten out of Seung-gil is the boy ducking his head, cheeks faintly pink, or Seung-gil failing to reply for several minutes because of a message JJ’s sent. And even in bed, Seung-gil hasn’t quite let himself go, preferring to bury his face and his sounds in the sheets or JJ’s shoulder, shuddering quietly in JJ’s arms as he comes.

JJ adores everything about Seung-gil, but he does want everything, and that includes seeing what Seung-gil might look like if he were flustered, embarrassed; what he’d look like coming apart under JJ’s hands, mouth, touch.

It starts with a bet.

They’re both terribly competitive (something that’s led to not a few fights between them, spats when they criticize each other’s routines or outscore each other badly), so it’s easy enough to cajole Seung-gil into a not-completely-friendly wager over their scores in their first Grand Prix series event -- they’re both assigned to Skate Canada this season, which means Seung-gil is staying a few days at JJ’s Montreal apartment, having flown in early to practice before they both head to Toronto. They’re in the open living-kitchen-dining room, with JJ getting some juice from the fridge and Seung-gil curled up on the couch.

“You know,” JJ says casually, twisting open the bottle, “we should add something to this.”

Seung-gil flicks his gaze up from his phone, quirks his eyebrows. “Add something to what?”

“The competition.” JJ waggles his eyebrows, undeterred even when Seung-gil frowns. “Something more than just seeing who’s gonna beat who.”

Seung-gil’s eyes narrow, but JJ can see the curiosity there. His boyfriend shifts on the couch, leans his cheek on the back of it. “Something like what?”

“Hmmm.” JJ lets things stew for a few moments as he takes a long swig, tipping his head back, feeling the way Seung-gil’s eyes are drawn to his throat. He smacks his lips, licks the excess moisture off, and grins. “How about, the person with the lower score has to do whatever the winner wants for a day?”

Seung-gil quirks his eyebrows. “That seems obviously childish.”

“It’ll be fun.” JJ sets the juice bottle down on the kitchen counter, strides over to Seung-gil and braces his hands on either side of his boyfriend’s head. He can see the heat flash in Seung-gil’s gaze, in his quiet but harsh exhale. JJ leans down and winks. “I’m sure you’ve got things you want to make me do,” he says, lowering his voice. When Seung-gil inhales sharply, JJ knows he’s hooked.

(And there are things he wants Seung-gil to do, and wants to do to Seung-gil, but he doesn’t say those yet. Those can wait for after he wins, and all their days together after.)

Seung-gil looks a little to the left, then directly at JJ. His lips are pursed in that determined pout that JJ loves to kiss off.

“You’re on.”

Skate Canada goes well -- for Seung-gil, that is. For all that JJ’s program goes well, and he even lands the quad loop cleanly, Seung-gil beats him in PCS and it’s enough to edge JJ to gold by three and a half points. On the podium Seung-gil’s smile is cool, practiced, but standing beside him, JJ can see the smirk in his eyes and the corners of his lips.

This isn’t quite how he’d envisioned this turning out, but when Seung-gil flicks his gaze to JJ, briefly but with intent, JJ has to admit he’s curious and a little excited.

They part ways to do their press runs, and JJ grins at the reporters, says he’s unfazed by placing silver at home, that he’ll make up for it at the Trophée de France and qualify easily. This is going to be his year (no matter that he’d lost to Yuri Plisetsky at Worlds).

The next time he sees Seung-gil is back at the hotel, after a celebratory dinner with his family. He drops by Seung-gil’s room to find his boyfriend has already changed, and is watching a crime film on the telly with the volume turned low.

“So,” JJ says, sliding into bed beside Seung-gil despite still being fully dressed. Seung-gil makes a noise of complaint, but shifts to make space for JJ beside him. It makes JJ smile.

“So?” Seung-gil asks, tearing his gaze from the screen to raise his eyebrows at JJ.

“You won.” JJ takes Seung-gil’s hand, kisses slender knuckles, smiles. Seung-gil flicks his eyes away; there’s a little color on his cheeks. JJ has to hold back a laugh. “What do you want?”

He’s not sure what to expect, if he’s honest; whether it might be something sexual or something sweet, JJ isn’t sure. One of the best things JJ likes about Seung-gil is that people might think he’s predictable and impassive, and then he’ll go and surprise you.

So it is a surprise when Seung-gil withdraws his hand, the corners of his lips curling up in a smirk. When he says, cryptically, “you’ll see”, and goes back to watching his movie.

JJ raises his eyebrows, interest piqued. “Oh?”

It’s even more surprising when Seung-gil suddenly leans across and kisses him at the corner of his mouth, draws away with a small smile. JJ sits there, a little stunned, as Seung-gil shifts ever so slightly away.

“One thing, though,” Seung-gil says, and there’s a teasing edge to his tone that draws JJ in, makes the anticipation curl in his gut. Seung-gil traces one finger up the back of JJ’s hand, draws little circles; looks at JJ out of the corner of his eyes. “Tomorrow, when we go back.”

JJ hums in agreement.

“You’re not allowed to touch me.”

At first, it’s easy enough. They fly back to Montreal; Seung-gil naps on the plane, and if he leans on the window instead of on JJ, well, it’s not difficult to endure. They take a cab back, Seung-gil quiet and JJ curious. They head up to the apartment, they put away their things, they settle in: JJ on the couch in the living room, watching something on his tablet, and Seung-gil off to shower.

The lack of casual touches is discomfiting, but not intolerable.

After two hours, JJ notices.

Little by little, Seung-gil has started to wear progressively less clothing.

The socks are the first to go, barely noticeable. But JJ knows Seung-gil likes to wander around in sock feet, so the absence of dog-printed fabric catches the fringes of his attention. Then the jacket disappears, leaving Seung-gil in JJ’s shirt and his jeans.

Seung-gil goes around like normal, settling in the armchair diagonally across from the couch and propping open a book. He has his glasses on, thin and frameless, has a tiny furrow in his brow. JJ eyes him over the edge of his tablet, curious.

Forty-five minutes later, Seung-gil gets up, and returns in just a shirt and boxers.

This time JJ is really looking: at pale legs on full display, hooked over the arm of the chair; at the sharp contrast of black fabric on skin; at the plush of Seung-gil’s thighs. He wants to reach out, smooth his palm up one leg and see how far Seung-gil will let him touch, but he’s promised.

(And that cool composure remains intact, as if Seung-gil doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to JJ, pointing and flexing one foot as JJ stares and feels the urge to sink his teeth in--)

“What are we doing for dinner tonight?” Seung-gil suddenly asks, startling JJ from his building fantasy. JJ coughs, feels his cheeks heat up, but Seung-gil just looks at him impassively and raises his eyebrows.

“We can, uh--” JJ clears his throat and tries again. “We can order in? Did you want to go out?”

“Hmm.” Seung-gil taps a finger to his (plush, pink) lips and tips his head back to bare his (slender, begging-to-be-marked) throat. “We can go to the Japanese place down the block.”

(JJ is staring, breathing shallow, lips slightly parted. Seung-gil looks back at him, serene as you please.)

“Jean.” JJ blinks and jerks his attention back to the tablet in his lap, trying to remember where he’d left off. He swears he can hear the smirk in Seung-gil’s voice, even if there’s no trace on his mouth.

“Sure,” JJ says, and he’s proud of how his voice doesn’t shake.

Seung-gil nods and goes back to his book.

(JJ flicks his eyes up again, only half-paying attention to the movie as Seung-gil stretches out one leg and furrows his brow.)

At six, they get ready to go out. JJ stands to put the tablet away while Seung-gil disappears into the bedroom to change. After getting momentarily distracted by a few Twitter notifications, JJ follows. He’s about to ask Seung-gil if he wants to get coffee afterwards as well when he looks up and--

His throat runs dry; his breath catches in his throat; what feels like half the blood in his body goes very quickly south.

Seung-gil is standing in front of the closet, his suitcase open a few feet away, hands on his sides with his hips cocked as he contemplates his outfit. And that’s fine, that’s normal, except he’s wearing only a soft grey shirt -- JJ’s shirt -- and nothing underneath but --

JJ’s eyes trail up those legs to the twin strips of red digging into one pale thigh, the fuchsia flower embellishments, and further to where more red straps are just peeking out from the hem of the shirt, on top of tiny black boyshorts. The collar of the shirt drags off one shoulder, revealing even more straps and floral decorations that evidently cross over Seung-gil’s chest and back. The fabric drapes loosely over his back, giving only hints of the rest of the setup underneath, but it’s enough to stun JJ into silence and breathlessness.

And Seung-gil -- Seung-gil just turns, blinks twice, and bends down to retrieve a pair of jeans from his luggage. The shirt rides up, lets JJ see the full expanse of lingerie criss-crossing over Seung-gil’s hips, and JJ wants to reach out and take --

Seung-gil tugs the jeans up over his hips, covering up, and somehow that makes everything hotter. He grabs a dress shirt from the closet and turns, makes his way over to JJ. But just when JJ thinks Seung-gil’s going to do something that ends up in them not going out tonight, the man steps around JJ, as close as they can get without touching.

(And JJ can smell his shampoo in Seung-gil’s hair, his body spray lingering on Seung-gil’s skin and this is not fair, he wants to reach out and slide his fingers under those garters, snap them back into place so Seung-gil’s skin turns pink and pretty.)

Seung-gil disappears into the bathroom without even looking at him, but JJ can track the smirk that pulls up the corners of that mouth.

He half-regrets making that bet now, if it meant being teased like this.

This is infuriating.

There’s not a hint of what’s underneath the charcoal grey dress shirt and dark wash denim jeans, and Seung-gil doesn’t give anything away, but JJ knows. He can still see what those red straps and flowers looked against Seung-gil’s skin, digging into taut flesh. And Seung-gil maintains a frustrating distance, always accidentally brushing against JJ and then pulling away, sliding his gaze down JJ’s body and then flicking it somewhere else. JJ can’t focus as he watches Seung-gil lick curry off his finger, excruciatingly slow, hollowing those cheeks.

It’s maddening, and it’s making JJ’s pants feel uncomfortably tight.

(Needless to say, they don’t go for coffee after.)

When they get back home, when JJ’s closed the door behind him and Seung-gil takes off his shoes, bending over slightly, JJ snaps. He reaches out, grabs Seung-gil’s hips and hauls him back to press his face into the side of the man’s neck.

Seung-gil slaps his hands away, whirls around and steps back. His expression is haughty, a provocation; he clicks his tongue.

“I said,” and his voice is low, taunting, “no touching.”

JJ sucks in a breath, forces his hands to his sides. Seung-gil smirks.

“Better.” He raises a hand, beckons JJ over. “Bedroom. Now.”

JJ complies in an instant.

He’s not sure how Seung-gil wants him, and his boyfriend seems to be taking his time outside, so JJ settles for taking off his shirt and lying back against the pillows. When Seung-gil enters and spots him, there’s a flicker of amusement on his face as he stops to admire the view.

“Someone’s excited,” he comments dryly, and JJ grins.

“Always for you,” he replies cheekily, and is rewarded with a soft snort of laughter.

“I like it,” Seung-gil says, and JJ smirks. Slowly, deliberately, Seung-gil comes forward, letting his gaze drag from JJ’s ankles upwards, lingering on the crotch area, the trail of dark hair, the bare chest. At the foot of the bed, Seung-gil pauses, tips his head to the side, smiles: the slightest crinkle of his eyes, uptick of his lips, a tease.

JJ breathes, heavy, and watches.

Seung-gil starts it simple: he drags his hands slow over his front, teasing over the fly of his jeans. He undoes the button tantalizingly slowly; the schick of the zipper is the only sound in the room apart from JJ’s breathing. Thumbs dip under the waistband and push down, inch by excruciating inch, until Seung-gil kicks them off and out of the way. Until the red straps and flowers are revealed, delicious against pale skin.

Then Seung-gil smirks, climbs onto the bed. He holds JJ’s gaze as he crawls forward, moving until he’s straddling JJ’s lap. JJ immediately reaches for slender hips, but Seung-gil slaps them away, grabbing JJ’s wrists and pinning them to the wall above his head.

“No,” he exhales, purrs, almost. JJ feels a shiver run down his body; throat dry, he nods.

Seung-gil answers with a satisfied smile, letting go of JJ and pulling back. He licks his lips, flutters his lashes. Brings one hand up to toy with the top buttons of his shirt, the other trailing lightly down JJ’s chest. Before his fingers dip below JJ’s navel, though, he withdraws. Pops one button, then two.

JJ’s eyes are fixed on those slender fingers, on the way the shirt collar slowly starts to fall open, revealing hints of red underneath.

Then Seung-gil starts to move his hips.

Small motions: back and forth, careful circles, rocking down against JJ. The front of his jeans starts to grow tight. Button after button gets flicked open, revealing a criss-cross of red straps, an elaborate bloom of flowers on Seung-gil’s skin, and JJ half-forgets to breathe.

(He wants to touch, wants, so badly; he wants to lick and bite between the straps, toy at the edges to make Seung-gil shiver. He wants he wants he wants. He keeps his hands overhead.)

The shirt falls open; JJ stares. His breathing comes harsh, sharp. Seung-gil traces the flowers, the straps; moves his hand down and cups himself through black boxers. A soft moan falls from his lips; he tips his head back, mouth falling open in a sigh as his hand starts to move, kneading the palm against his cock.

(JJ’s hands flex, close into fists. He wants.)

The boy in his lap starts to move in earnest, rocking his hips into his palm. Seung-gil bites his lips, lets out little hitching moans; every motion brushes against JJ’s own cock through his jeans and this is hot as hell, this is the dirtiest and most tempting JJ has seen Seung-gil. And Seung-gil meets JJ’s eyes, presses two fingers into his mouth and sucks, licks, until they’re spit-slick and dripping. Then he reaches behind himself, fumbles, makes a strangled noise -- and then --

JJ groans, thunking his head back and panting openly as he watches Seung-gil rock back on his own fingers, stroke himself through his boxers, around the straps; as Seung-gil’s moans turn breathy, stuttered; as Seung-gil makes a show and a mess of himself and JJ’s nails dig into his palms with the effort not to reach, to push Seung-gil back and down and take.

And then Seung-gil shifts, keens.

“Jean,” he pants out, hips writhing; he pushes down against JJ’s cock and JJ almost loses it. “God -- Jean, fuck, fuck--”

“Fuck,” JJ echoes hoarsely; he doesn’t know where to look. There’s a pretty flush to Seung-gil’s skin under the straps; his teeth dig into plush lips; his hands are working at his cock, his ass; his hips stutter. It’s fucking hot, it’s too much, JJ needs to get his hands on this boy right fucking now --

“Need you,” Seung-gil moans, and that’s all the invitation JJ needs to surge forward, hauling Seung-gil in for a messy kiss as his hands bracket slender hips, grab two handfuls of a pert ass.

“So hot -- fucking -- tease--” JJ gets out in between kisses and mouthing at all the skin he can reach; one hand fumbles around the bed for the small bottle of lube. He finds it, slicks up his fingers, drags his tongue at the edges of those red straps and presses two fingers into Seung-gil’s ass, making the boy muffle a sharp cry in the press of their lips.

It’s difficult to maneuver around the straps, but JJ twists his wrist and crooks his fingers, making Seung-gil squirm in the press of his arms. His other hand threads through Seung-gil’s hair, tugging, pulling the boy into another heated and sloppy kiss. And Seung-gil fucks back on JJ’s fingers, rolls his hips so their cocks press through layers of clothing, and whatever sense of reason JJ’s managed to retain is starting to slip away.

“More,” Seung-gil pants against his jaw, hands moving down to scrabble at the front of JJ’s pants, “more, fuck, Jean --”

JJ growls, bites and sucks a mark onto Seung-gil’s shoulder, then with great reluctance, withdraws his hands and lifts Seung-gil off his lap. He works quickly, shucking pants and boxers. When he looks back up, it’s to the sight of Seung-gil sprawled out on his sheets, skin flushed so prettily, chest heaving.

JJ’s back on him in seconds, kissing and nipping his way up one leg until he gets to the garter straps there. With a little difficulty, he gets teeth to them and pulls, uses one hand to help tug them off. Then he gets off the piece on Seung-gil’s hips, pressing an open mouth to the bulge in the boyshorts as his hands pull the straps off.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs; his hands slip under Seung-gil’s thighs and pull them further open as he sucks, licks, until the fabric is wet and Seung-gil is writhing, pleading. And if JJ had wanted to see that composure broken then here it is: the color is high in Seung-gil’s cheeks, his hair is matted to his forehead, and he’s desperately rocking his hips up against JJ’s mouth as his hands grab at the bedsheets. And JJ drinks in every beautiful reaction, every squirm and shiver, as he takes this beautiful boy to pieces.

“So good,” he breathes out, moving up to kiss Seung-gil hard, and Seung-gil responds stunningly, arching up into JJ and dragging nails over his shoulders, down his back. When Seung-gil gets a hand to JJ’s cock, just as JJ’s fumbling for a condom, he has to muffle a moan in one slender shoulder.

When Seung-gil hooks his legs around JJ’s hips, when JJ pushes into tight heat -- they both have to bite back cries. JJ fucks into him hard, fast; after the teasing, the not being allowed to touch, he needs and he doesn’t want to hold back. And Seung-gil rolls his hips into every thrust, clings to JJ and lets out filthy, delicious noises, a litany of JJ’s name and demands for more, more, more.

“So good, fuck -- chaton, so good, yes--” JJ bites out, mouths against Seung-gil’s throat. And Seung-gil throws his head back, scrabbles at the sheets, and cries out as he comes, shuddering underneath him. JJ buries his face in Seung-gil’s shoulder and feels Seung-gil shake under him, around him, follows with a strangled moan of Seung-gil’s name.

They lie there, panting, catching their breaths; JJ has himself braced on his elbows to keep from weighing down, while Seung-gil absently pets at his hair and presses kisses to his cheeks, his temples. When he feels less like his limbs might give out, JJ pulls out and strips off the condom, tosses it in the general direction of the wastebasket near the bed. Before Seung-gil can chide him, he rolls onto his side and pulls the boy along with him into a tangle of limbs and warm skin.

“You,” JJ says, snapping his teeth at Seung-gil and huffing a laugh, “are the worst fucking tease.”

He looks at Seung-gil, the red straps and pink flowers still adorning his chest, the mess of his hair, the marks littering his skin; looks at the beautiful boy in his arms and kisses him, just because he can. And Seung-gil answers in a quiet laugh like sunshine, a sound only JJ gets to hear.

“You liked it,” he points out, blushing prettily despite his smirk.

JJ laughs, louder; pulls Seung-gil closer.

“Yeah,” he admits without reluctance, and kisses Seung-gil again. “I do.”

[verdigrisprowl]

Operation: SPOGNER. Part One.

Prowl and Tarantulas meet Soundwave and Whirl to discuss their plans to revive Springer. Prowl and Whirl threaten to kill each other if the other does anything to make Springer worse. It went pretty well.

Whirl hasn’t quite agreed to the phase sixification of Springer, because they haven’t finished working out the science yet.

Welcome to the 'ckret2' room. FakeProwl: ==== ((PAY NO MIND TO THE CHATTER ABOVE)) ==== Whirl: ((OGLES IT)) FakeProwl: ((YOU REBEL)) Tarantulas: ((tara: fondly remembers it)) Whirl: ((NOBODY TELLS WHILS WHAT TO DO)) Tarantulas changed their nickname to mau. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave has already sealed off everything possible to prevent Tarantulas getting into things he shouldn't. Now he waits for the others to arrive, greet, and arrange themselves in the chairs he-- ItsyBitsySpyers: has thoughtfully set for their particular builds. The club is quiet and dimly lit - darker than the corridors of the Nemesis, even - and two cubes rest on the table. One is a Gaugebuster for Whirl.-- ItsyBitsySpyers: The other is natural blue energon, which Tarantulas may discard, keep, or drink as he likes. For Prowl and himself, nothing. The video wall is activated, but remains blank.* Whirl: *Whirl's not just punctual--he's early. Upon entering, he bobs his helm to Soundwave and glances about before taking a seat, snorting, and storing the gaugebuster in his subspace. He's not drinking-- Whirl: --tonight. His expression is carefully blank, but Soundwave will have no trouble "overhearing" his nervousness. If this is actually some kind of colossal trap, then tonight's the night it's most Whirl: likely to be tripped, and he knows it. Silently he sits, crossing his legs, and waiting. Whirl: (pretend there's an end asterisk there, done) FakeProwl: *Prowl arrives when Soundwave said they should show up, almost to the second. He's already finished reviewing and re-reviewing all his notes, and has just been semi-anxiously passing time until the-- FakeProwl: --meeting. But, whan he shows up, he's perfectly calm, face perfectly blank. As usual. A polite nod to Soundwave; a polite but wary nod to Whirl.* Soundwave: *Nods to both guests, then folds his servos on his lap and places a loading symbol on his screen while he waits for their missing guest.* Whirl: *nods back at Prowl, stiffly* FakeProwl: *of course Tarantulas is the holdup. Prowl pings him to make sure he's still showing up.* Tarantulas: *Prowl gets a ping back, but no comm. A minute or so later Tarantulas shows up late (no Starbucks, sadly). He seems a little frazzled - he'd been busying himself with experiments, and one of them -- Tarantulas: -- backfired on him recently, literally. A nice patch of his shoulder fur is singed off. Nodding and greeting them appropriately, takes his respective seat, examines the energon, and proceeds to -- Tarantulas: -- pull out additive dust to add to the liquid* Soundwave: *Takes extra note of the burned patch and the dust, to examine later* FakeProwl: *about time. sideways glance/nod at Tarantulas as he sits.* FakeProwl: *... double-takes. tarantulas what did you DO* Whirl: *makes  asoft huffing noise and breaks the silence at last* You REEK, mech. Soundwave: *Ravage makes the same complaint to Soundwave from upstairs a moment later* Tarantulas: *squinting at Whirl* Well, that's /one/ way to greet someone, I suppose. Soundwave: *He decides not to share that.* Whirl: *shrugs* It's the truth. But yes. Anyway. Hi. *glances to the assorted mecha* Well, we all know why we're here. FakeProwl: *still staring at the singed fur. what happened. how bad is it. how far down does it go. did he burn his flesh. is he in pain.* Tarantulas: *Tarantulas doesn't notice the staring, also doesn't seem to pay any attention to the injury* Soundwave: (txt): Correct. Discussion initiation volunteer? Tarantulas: I certainly hope we do. For - *a pause. not Ostaros* - for Springer. Personally, I vote Whirl ought to go first - chronologically he was the one to initiate things, am I not correct? FakeProwl: *snorts* FakeProwl: I've been working on waking him up since the moment I heard he was in stasis—but, sure. Why not. *slight nod to Whirl* Proceed. Tarantulas: You know that's /not/ what I meant. *sideeye* FakeProwl: Then you ought to have clarified. *does not side-eye* FakeProwl: *also, 100% thought that was what Tarantulas meant.* Tarantulas: *finishes mixing in additives, pulls out straw, gives a little more side-eye before sipping at the energon* Whirl: Sure, sure. *waits for the side-eyeing to end before he continues* Well, I don't know how much Soundwave told you, but I don't have what you'd call a /nuanced/ plan. FakeProwl: *bites back urge to say something sarcastic.* FakeProwl: *yes. yes he knows.* Whirl: Pretty much I just figured nothing else had worked, so trying Soundwave was worth a shot. It worked on me. I know--*holds up a claw* That me and Springer's situations aren't the same, of course. Whirl: But... yeah. *shrugs* I can get in and out of Debris, if I wanted. Almost /certainly/ can do it undetected, especially /now./ But I've been told you, specifically--*looks to Tarantulas* Have some Tarantulas: ...You never did mention exactly what happened with you, but I suppose now isn't the time to delve into that, unless it's relevant. Whirl: kind of insight into his physiology, but that's all I know. Whirl: And, no. It isn't. Whirl: But I'm not gonna drop dead on you guys in the middle of things, if that's what you're worried about. *nods; he seems done for now* Soundwave: *Don't look to Soundwave for more data on that one; he's keeping what he did to himself.* Tarantulas: Mere curiosity - I'll suppress it for now. And yes, I do have Ost- Springer's medical files, as well as the medical files from my universe. Whirl: *and Soundwave only has a vague knowledge of what's going in up in there* Tarantulas: How much of his condition are you aware of, currently? *to whirl* Whirl: I know that he's comatose because of a zero point they can't find. It happened right after Overlord cewed him up o Garrus-9. The thing is, aside from ripping off his face, there wasn't /that/ much-- Whirl: damage to him when they brought him in. Not compared to other times. It's always struck me as a little weird, but... *shrugs* Whirl: I know what a zero point is, and how it works, if that's what you're asking. FakeProwl: If we can compare what Soundwave did for you to supergluing a piece back together, then what you have proposed, Whirl, is equivalent to saying "some super glue will hammer that dent out." FakeProwl: So, while we appreciate your... desperation? eagerness?—I question how much you really understand how zero points work. Whirl: I'm fully aware the problem might not be in his mind, Prowl. *swivels his helm to regard him; his optic remains round and expressionless* Whirl: What we know about zero points would suggest it ISN'T. FakeProwl: What we know about zero points suggests that it's a microscopic disruption in the spark's circulatory system. We can tell that his spark's circulation is disrupted. Ergo. FakeProwl: It's a zero point. Tarantulas: If the zero point has anything to do with his processor, it isn't something Soundwave can fix through telepathic contact. Of that, I'm certain. Whirl: Thank you, Prowl, for telling me something I just /told/ you I already know. Whirl: What would I ever do without you? Whirl: See, I went to Soundwave because /nothing else/ anyone had tried had worked. Tarantulas: *fur bristles a little, then back down. ouch. that hurt* Whirl: I knew this might be a zero-sum game. FakeProwl: You just expressed entirely unfounded doubts. I thought I would simplify it. Whirl: But I figured it was worth a shot. FakeProwl: And that's why I've brough Tarantulas on board. Because he has a /plethora/ of things that nobody else has tried—and, they actually address the problem at hand. Whirl: Let's hear it, then. *looks to Tarantulas* Tarantulas: That's - *looks at Prowl. that's not why he brought him on board, but... very well* FakeProwl: *well he's not going to explain ALL the details. And what Prowl said is, technically, true.* FakeProwl: *he can do things that nobody else does, and he won't be fiddling around in Springer's mind when the problem is with his spark system* Soundwave: *Has his own opinions about what use his ability would be if the problem was somewhere in Springer's processor, but this, too, he'll keep to himself.* Tarantulas: I've proposed a few things I can do - first of all, simply assessing the situation with my own medical devices and seeing if nothing comes up - which I doubt will work. However, I'm currently -- Tarantulas: working on devising a spark energy tag that could highlight the flow and blockage therein. Once I know where the zero point is, it should be no trouble to fix from there. Tarantulas: (( change -spark energy tag- to TECHNIQUE. that should work Tarantulas: (( nvm ill rewrite tara's response just now!! cut the last two dialogue lines FakeProwl: ((-snip snip-)) Tarantulas: I've proposed a few things I can do - first of all, simply assessing the situation with my own medical devices and seeing if nothing comes up - which I doubt will work. However, I'm currently -- Tarantulas: -- working on devising a method in which I could channel artificial spark energy between two given points in his system to determine the location of the zero point through trial and error. Once I -- Tarantulas: -- know where the zero point is, it should be no trouble to fix from there. Whirl: You /do/ know they completely rebuilt him, right? Whirl: I mean, you seem confident enough, but what if you fail? Wat're we gonna do then? FakeProwl: Try something else. Tarantulas: Precisely. Whirl: What else've you got, in the way of those? Tarantulas: ...Riskier things that may not pass muster. FakeProwl: We'll prioritize the riskier things if we get to them. Whirl: Mmm-hmm. All right. Here's mine: Whirl: Like I said, I know what a zero point is. And, also like I said, I know the problem isn't the same as mine was. It's not in his brain. But before... I left Debris, back when me and Roadbuster were-- Whirl: --his caretakers, Rung actually came and saw us with a theory. He said that maybe provoking an emotional response would make Springer force his spark across the zero point. Now, we tried it-- Whirl: Roadbuster read to him /ever day./ He said, once, he saw... something, but I think it might've been wishful thinking. But, if everything else DOES fail, that's... more or less what I figure Soundwave Whirl: can do. If Springer's mind isn't gone, if he's still IN there, then the only person I can think to reach him... *nods towards Soundwave* Whirl: I know how it sounds, before you tell me how stupid it is. I'm /aware./ FakeProwl: ... Hm. When all you have is a hammer, the whole world looks like nails. FakeProwl: Brilliant as he is, I'm afraid that Rung's specialization in psychiatry may have led him to innapropriately look for psychiatric solutions to non-psychiatric problems. Whirl: *rolls his optic, but does't respond* FakeProwl: I've found it's a common problem in psychological fields. Whirl: I'm not saying we place all our bets on this one, but... *shrugs* Worth a shot. FakeProwl: Be that as it may, though. As far as last resorts go, Soundwave is, a... not unreliable one to have. Soundwave: *Small helm dip.* Soundwave: (txt): This task, not unfamiliar. FakeProwl: *where's Prowl looking? who knows, but it's not at Soundwave* Whirl: True. *nods* Whirl: *he was, after all, Whirl's last resort, recently* Tarantulas: *squints* It's not a matter of forcing the energy over. That's one of the riskier things that I would have suggested if my current plans do not succeed. Soundwave: *And several more times before.* Tarantulas: But... as a last resort. Whirl: Well, let's hope your plan succeeds, then. FakeProwl: Perhaps we should keep Soundwave as a /lower/ resort, if not last. FakeProwl: Plan B through Plan Whatever will be prioritized based on their probability of success—and their probability of causing worse damage. Tarantulas: That's... reasonable. FakeProwl: Soundwave can make his attempt /before/ we try the plans that could cause worse damage. Tarantulas: This raises the question of group dynamics, however. If one of us disagrees with what the rest of us want to do, how are we going to proceed? Whirl: I'd... guess vote? I mean, none of us here are /actually/ qualified to be making these decisions for him. So I'd guess we're all on equal ground. Tarantulas: I - that... *Tarantulas has to quiet himself for a moment. He feels as if - if this were his Ostaros, it'd be his position. This is Prowl's though, so Prowl should take priority* Tarantulas: *he'll let Prowl speak up if he wants, then* FakeProwl: *Prowl can't exactly say he's more qualified, can he?* Soundwave: *Considers this.* FakeProwl: ... Tarantulas gets final say. Whirl: What? No way. FakeProwl: Medical treatment is not a democracy. Out of the four of us, he's the only one with medical experience—and /abundant/ experience, at that. Soundwave: (txt): Soundwave, least say. Not colleague, not former authority figure, not medic. Whirl: *swivels his helm to stare at Tarantulas* But you're not a medic--not REALLY. Tarantulas: I /did/ go through medical schooling, yes. Whirl: And Prowl might be willing to trust you on this, but frankly, mech, I don't even know why you're HERE. FakeProwl: He built himself from scratch. Without accidentally giving /himself/ a zero point in the process. Whirl: That only proves he's crazy, Prowl. Tarantulas: *hackles raise* I'm here because I have the expertise to save Ostaros, and that is - *pauses for prowl* - that. That as well. Whirl: *nods to Tarantulas* No offense. Whirl: Who the FRAG is Ostaros? Tarantulas: S-Springer. A slip of the glossa. FakeProwl: *DAMMIT Tarantulas* FakeProwl: We gave the project a code name, in case Starscream bugs my comms. Whirl: *stares blankly at Tarantulas. There's absolutely no telling what he's thinking* Whirl: Hell of a slip. Whirl: ...regardless. I'm willing to defer to your judgment on medical matters. But I'm not going to just do everything you think we should if it has nothing to do with medicine. Soundwave: [[That is why we are debating, and why plans are to be shared and approved -before- we reach Debris.]] Tarantulas: *deep vent out* ...I'm not going to single-clawedly dictate the actions of this group, no. FakeProwl: *dryly* And what, pray tell, do you think we're going to do that has nothing to do with medicine? FakeProwl: We are here to resolve a medical issue. Nothing more, nothing less. Soundwave: [[Break and enter into a facility, evade notice, perhaps fend off angry caretakers.]] Whirl: Indirectly, sure, you can probably argue semantics and say everything traces BACK to it, but if he tells me to go out of the room when I don't want to, that's not gonna fly. Soundwave: [[Springer cannot walk -here-, after all.]] Whirl: There are a lot of decisions--when we strike, what we do about detection--that have nothing to do with medicine. Whirl: *nods; thanks, Soundwave* Tarantulas: If I request you leave the room for medical reasons, it's imperative you do so - but I'll make sure to indicate what is and isn't medical. Does that suffice? Whirl: No promises. Whirl: We'll have to see. Soundwave: [[...Whirl.]] Soundwave: [[Are there monitoring and recording devices in the room where he is kept?]] Whirl: *shakes his head* That's the best I can give you. Period. FakeProwl: *if it comes down to it and Whirl refuses to leave when he needs to, Prowl will eject him himself. Into the nearest sun, if necessary.* Whirl: Yeah, petty basic stuff. Whirl: *pretty Soundwave: [[Then he will need to interfere with them. If Tarantulas requires the room to be vacated, he will feed the unedited content to his screen for you. Sufficient?]] Whirl: Like I said--we'll see. Soundwave: *Very well.* FakeProwl: ... Permit me to add something before we proceed. Tarantulas: *curious narrowed visor* Whirl: Fire away. FakeProwl: Despite what rumors about me would say to the contrary, I am not a vengeful person. I permit those rumors because I find them too hard to be worth combatting, and occasionally beneficial in my work. FakeProwl: However. If you and your Wrecker-esque, authority-defying, do-what-I-want-and-damn-the-consequences attitude do ANYTHING to make Springer worse—I will end you. FakeProwl: That's all. Proceed. Whirl: *his optic narrows for the first time* You think I'm here at all because I want something BAD to happen to him? You think I'd get tangled up in YOUR dirty work if it wasn't worth it? Tarantulas: *suddenly emotional. heck* Whirl: I accept your terms, Prowl, and I'll give you some of my own: if I find out your sudden burst of altruism is really just a cover for some underhanded scheme to get Springer under your thumb, by-- Whirl: --whatever means you can--if you do anything to make him LESS than who he is, then I won't just end you; I'll destroy you. FakeProwl: Fine. FakeProwl: But my goals are more along the lines of making him MORE than who he is. Whirl: Meaning? FakeProwl: *all right. sits forward.* Repairing him is just the first half of my plans for him. The second half is ensuring that nothing like this can ever happen to him again. Whirl: *as soon as he says "first half", Whirl shoots Soundwave a sidelong look that just says "what did I TELL you"* Soundwave: *Soundwave lifts a servo. Wait. Hear this out.* Soundwave: ((hear prowl out, i mean)) Whirl: ((yes! I had assumed)) Soundwave: ((ok good)) FakeProwl: *Whirl hasn't started screaming yet. Prowl takes that as a good sign.* You may have noticed that mechs like Overlord and Tarn have been made damn near impossible to damage, much less kill. FakeProwl: I intend to give Springer that same advantage. Whirl: How, exactly? FakeProwl: By replicating the process that made the Phase Sixers and Warriors Elite so invincible. Whirl: *stares at Prowl for a few moments in silence before he waves with a claw, indicating him to go on* FakeProwl: Presently, we know the key necessary ingredient; we know who was behind the process, and can begin hunting out his notes and work-- Soundwave: *Is now also leaned forward just a bit.* FakeProwl: --and we've got a multiversal Phase Sixer who has unwittingly offered to let himself be very thoroughly examined. FakeProwl: I have links to a Decepticon medic and Decepticon chemist who have links to the Decepticons' research, and can track down knowledge from inside enemy bases. FakeProwl: And-- *tips head toward Tarantulas* I have Cybertron's leading expert on copying and improving upon other scientists' work. Whirl: Send me 'em. FakeProwl: ... Send you what? Tarantulas: I - fair. *mutters something about doing his OWN work too gosh* FakeProwl: *Prowl didn't say that was the ONLY thing you were an expert in, cmon* Whirl: The information. The process. Every file you've got. FakeProwl: ... What would you DO with it? Whirl: Read it! I don't know how any of this is done! FakeProwl: You'll hardly know when you've finished reading it. The primary documents presume millions of years of background in medicine and chemistry. Tarantulas: No offense meant, but reading something and understanding something are two different things. Whirl: Look, I just need to know the basics. I'm not saying I'll read it and be able to do it myself, but I'm not just gonna agree to something without getting some kind  of basic idea of what to expect, her Tarantulas: Besides the fact that various files would be classified, and my notes would be nigh-on unintelligible to everyone in this room right now. Whirl: *here. Whirl: Well, you'd better get to work translating them. FakeProwl: Then we'll /explain/ the process to you. Obviously. But handing you the primary research materials would be useless to you and—frankly—pose a potential security risk. Tarantulas: Is there any impediment keeping you from trusting us if we /tell/ you the summary? Whirl: Oh, that's not suspicious at ALL. Soundwave: [[We cannot claim that your three votes are equal and expect Whirl to deliver all -he- knows if the both of you cannot provide an easily understood yet detailed packet.]] Whirl: *sidelong glance, a bit startled* FakeProwl: Didn't we just say that we would provide something easily understood? If he wants detailed, he can get detailed. FakeProwl: But there's no reason to hand him firsthand documents that he wouldn't be able to make sense of anyway, and plenty of reasons not to. Whirl: You actually didn't, no. FakeProwl: And I quote—"Then we'll explain the process to you." Tarantulas: I /could/ come up with a packet, but you understand that making it sufficiently cited and detailed takes time away from research and progress toward waking Springer in the first place. FakeProwl: And I quote Tarantulas—"Is there any impediment keeping you from trusting us if we tell you the summary?" FakeProwl: We literally. Just said. That we would provide something easily understood. Whirl: An explanation isn't--it's not nearly the same. You've got to give me something other than your word to back you up, here. Whirl: And I. Don't trust. You to tell me the truth. FakeProwl: *throws up hands* So the explanation will be a PACKET. For all the difference it makes. Tarantulas: *face-claw* Whirl: With some first-hand documentation. Whirl: I'm not asking you to dump the secrets of the Decepticon army on me, here. I'm not even asking for MUCH, Primus. FakeProwl: And I don't trust you not to take the firsthand documentation and leave them strewn all over Swerve's where they'll be scattered to three universes and the Lost Light gossip rag by the end of the day. Whirl: *narrows his optic* I'm not an /idiot,/ Prowl. FakeProwl: You're trying to fix a spark problem with mnemosurgery. FakeProwl: I beg to differ. Whirl: Hey, I didn't come up with the theory. Soundwave: [[Then give the data to -him-. He will store it and give Whirl secure access through a means that cannot be strewn about.]] FakeProwl: ... Fine. He can review it with you. But nothing leaves with him. Whirl: Regardless, if you think I'm just so grossly and hugely incompetent that I'll leave secret documents for the highly illegal and secret mission I am risking my LIFE to accomplish at a BAR-- Whirl: Then why are you even here talking to me? Whirl: Lord, BOTH of you, just--*shakes his head* Soundwave: [[And -cease insulting each other-. We will not have time for this when we revive Springer. If you cannot work together now, you jeopardize the mission later.]] FakeProwl: Because if we don't let you in on this, then you'll try to do it behind our back and ruin not only our own efforts, but your own. That's why I'm here talking to you. Whirl: *the only person getting insulted here is WHIRL, thank u very much* Whirl: *feel free to glean that nugget off his thoughts* Whirl: You could easily dispose of me if you thought I was that big of a risk. Let's not kid ourselves, here. Soundwave: [[You are also talking to him because he has information you need to ensure greater success. Do not forget that.]] FakeProwl: No. He has a bonus that makes things a little bit easier. Whirl: So, one way or another, since I'm apparently too incompetent to be trusted with data that I'm going to store in my own HEAD--*bitterly8 Give me a basic rundown. Whirl: *another sidelong glance at Soundwave* Soundwave: *Finally returns this one. What.* Whirl: *Whirl is just continually surprised that someone is sticking up for him* Soundwave: *Prowl has a support piece right now and Soundwave will speak his mind when he feels the need.* FakeProwl: *"support piece" is massively overstating his role right now.* Whirl: *regardless, he's not being constantly doubted, belittled, and insulted, which is more than can be said for Whirl* Whirl: *not that he didn't earn SOME skepticism on his own, but still* FakeProwl: *and whirl overestimates how respectful he's being* Whirl: *he's held his temper in remarkably well* Whirl: *...relatively* FakeProwl: *deep breath in; frazzled sigh. mainly for effect, since, y'know, hologram.* Right. We haven't finished all the work developing the procedure. Soundwave: [[Whirl will also be strength in case of emergency. You will not be there to protect Tarantulas and you cannot defend yourself against Wreckers for long anyway.]] FakeProwl: *flatly* We can put a space bridge in the doorway. Soundwave: [[They are Wreckers. They do not need doorways.]] Soundwave: [[And you cannot put up more than one bridge. Soundwave: ]] Tarantulas: There are ways around it - but if we /can/ utilize Whirl and maintain the arrangement we've already established, why not, then? Soundwave: *Small servo wave. He's listening now.* FakeProwl: If we're finished proposing increasingly remote probabilities to try to justify Whirl's presence. Whirl: *antenna pins back, but his blank expression does not waver* FakeProwl: Once the process has been developed, we will, of course, be testing it out on something that's /not/ Springer before testing it on Springer himself. The issue, then, is the procedure itself. Tarantulas: *goes back to sipping energon and brooding. rgh* Soundwave: *Strange. He thought Prowl -preferred- to account for increasingly remote probabilities.* FakeProwl: *glances at Tarantulas. Your turn.* Whirl: *swivels his helm to regard Tarantulas* Tarantulas: *he only got one sip in, dangit* FakeProwl: *Prowl doesn't do things that will endanger the most likely probabilities in hopes of canceling out a probability that is exceedingly unlikely to happen.* FakeProwl: *inviting Whirl along in case of an unlikely Wrecker attack they can't avoid stop is like walking around with a blindfold on just in case you need to protect your optics from an unexpected supernova* Whirl: *that, but also if the blindfold had guns and an attitude problem* FakeProwl: **avoid/stop Soundwave: *To be fair, he was trying very hard not to have to say "And I will lose out on this debt and be extremely cranky about it."* FakeProwl: *hey, Prowl SAID Whirl can be involved. it's just that the reason is "you'll make everything worse if you don't." a reason's a reason.* Soundwave: *Fair.* Tarantulas: It's - yes. The process. I've already performed an exam on the Phase Sixer in question and determined what makes him - them - so invincible. Their entire protoform is coated in a particular metal, -- Soundwave: *Well, if nothing else, he might've earned some points with Whirl. Or some suspicion. Honestly, he can work with both.* Tarantulas: ununtrium, that's impenetrable to everything except itself. The procedure of applying that to Springer is what's in question, but now that I have the relative densities and volumes, I ought to be -- Tarantulas: able to suss out the chemical makeup, which will lead to the actual details of the process. Soundwave: *Tilts helm.* FakeProwl: ... Speaking of. You know the size of our ununtriam cache. How much of him do you estimate we'll be able to cover with it? Soundwave: [[You cannot give a sliver to Mixmaster?]] FakeProwl: We can't remove a sliver. Tarantulas: *a sigh* ...We'll probably only be able to cover the helm and torso, to be safe. Whirl: So the process is, just, basically, stripping them down to protoform and dumping some kind of super-impenetrable metal on them? Soundwave: *Ah. It's all in one piece, then. He nods.* FakeProwl: ... Only that much? Tarantulas: Yes and no. There's more than just adding the metal - applying unutrium directly to the protoform would kill a mech under normal circumstances. FakeProwl: Kill a—?! Under normal circumstances?! Soundwave: *Oh, that'll go over well.* FakeProwl: I hope you're working out how to create abnormal circumstances. Tarantulas: Y-yes, you weren't aware? Of course that's what I'm doing. FakeProwl: You hadn't explained yet that it might be /fatal./ Whirl: *shakes his head slowly, bringing one claw up to rub at the side of hiis helm* Tarantulas: It /won't/ be. Whirl: You two don't even know what you're -doing- yet. FakeProwl: We said we hadn't finished the procedure. Tarantulas: That's beside the point, Whirl - at least we have reasonable, logical /plans/ for it. FakeProwl: This isn't a "finalize everything and get going" meeting, this is a progress meeting. Whirl: *raises his head and lowers his claw* Fine. Then, figure it out, and get back to me, because I'm not going to tell you I'm fine with this. I'm not, right now. Whirl: Not until I know more about it FakeProwl: Did you not want to be involved in the progress meetings? Did you want to be left out until we'd finalized everything? I could have told Soundwave we wouldn't meet with you for another two months. Whirl: That's not what I meant. FakeProwl: Of course you're not fine with this. I'm not fine with this. He just said that the process might be fatal and he hasn't explained how to prevent that yet. Tarantulas: I - I hadn't yet finished explaining, also, so whenever you're done being antagonistic about this, I can go on. FakeProwl: That's why we have meetings. To update everyone on how things are going. FakeProwl: Proceed, Tarantulas. Whirl: Lord, Prowl, could you maybe just dial down the condescension for a second? Just ONE second? I'm just saying that I am not going to give my final verdict untl you guys know what you're doing. FakeProwl: Of course you aren't! Why would you? Whirl: I ahd thought you were asking me that! FakeProwl: No! We're having a meeting! You asked for the basic rundown! FakeProwl: We're trying to give you what you asked for. Whirl: I'd thought you'd have more for me that "This might kill him." And that I might be able to make SOME kinda decision off that. FakeProwl: Well, if you would stop complaining and let Tarantulas CONTINUE. Whirl: But--anyway, obviously Tarantulas just said--fine. Fine. Whirl: *waves Tarantulas on* Tarantulas: *suppresses heavy sigh* ...Very well. Soundwave: *How is it listening to two Autobots can be so much like listening to Decepticon high command bickering?* Soundwave: *Primus save him from authority figures and mechs who loathe them.* FakeProwl: *Primus save Prowl from Wreckers* Tarantulas: Adding the proper liquid to a support capsule would counteract the majority of the heat-related damage, and determining the exact compound that the ununtrium forms when it interacts with the -- Tarantulas: protoform will give the additional factors required for a successful coating. I've already got it narrowed down to a few hundred molecular structures, and once I get it down to a reasonable number -- Whirl: *Whirl's pretty much used to this sort of thing, he can handle it. Primus need not save him* Tarantulas: I can begin lab testing with samples. FakeProwl: ... What kind of reasonable number? Tarantulas: I'm...it's... Less than twenty. FakeProwl: ... Send your work to Mixmaster. He can help you narrow it down further than that. FakeProwl: We want to have to do as little testing as possible. Tarantulas: I'm not talking /large/ samples here, I'm talking microscopic levels! Tarantulas: It'll barely detract from the main stores. Tarantulas: *totally not why he doesn't want mixmaster involved* FakeProwl: Send it to him anyway. He can help narrow it down faster. FakeProwl: Microscopic or not, I don't want any ununtrium wasted we don't have to waste. Tarantulas: ...Once I'm below eighty, the work slows down. I'll... transfer then. FakeProwl: *nods. satisfactory.* FakeProwl: So. Heat damage? Is that the only risk to Springer, that you know so far? Tarantulas: Well, heat damage and chemical burns. There's a slim chance he might have an allergic reaction to the ununtrium, but that's a simple test given I have Springer's protoform makeup, so. Whirl: *tilts his head, but says nothing* Soundwave: *....On Soundwave's to-do list for the future, should Tarantulas stay alive long enough for it: Teach him to stop spilling details he shouldn't. Somehow.* FakeProwl: And you think you can cancel out the heat danger? Without disturbing whatever temperature we need for the ununtrium to bond properly? Tarantulas: Yes, and that's next on the list to tackle. Tarantulas: That has more to do with the solution in the capsule than anything else. FakeProwl: "Capsule"? Tarantulas: *funny look* We'll need a - a tank, for lack of a better word. Capsule. I know there's another word for it, err.... FakeProwl: To put him in? Tarantulas: Yes, that. FakeProwl: ... That implies we won't be able to properly control where the ununtrium bonds to him. Is that consistent with what you've seen on your test subject—was the ununtrium bonded unevenly? FakeProwl: *if it's just all floating around in a tank, some places would have to be thicker than others, right?* Tarantulas: Nono, it bonded smoothly. Testing pending, I'm hypothesizing that's due to surface tension once the ununtrium gathers on the protoform. Tarantulas: Attraction, smoothing, interaction, then it's bonded. FakeProwl: How do we ensure that our limited amount bonds to his torso and head, then? FakeProwl: Are we going to have to remove his arms and legs? And will we be able to reattach them once ununtrium's bonded to the connecting ports? Tarantulas: We... /could/, but I'd prefer not to. I'll have to think on this one. Tarantulas: Likely there's isolating units we could fit around unwanted areas. Tarantulas: ...I don't... I'm not sure /now/ is the time to get into too much detail on speculative plans, is it? Tarantulas: That's about the extent of what I'm familiar with at the moment. FakeProwl: *considers. well, /Prowl/ wouldn't mind more detail, but. glances toward Whirl and Soundwave* Soundwave: *Oh, he is ATTENTIVE AS HELL. He hasn't budged since he leaned forward. At all.* Whirl: *he's been sitting very silent, rubbing the side of his helm the whole time* Eh, save it. If it turns out to be something that won't work, then we don't need to know, I guess. Soundwave: *...But if Whirl doesn't need to hear more.* Whirl: Do you plan to... to knock him back out for this? I'm assuming you're going to do this after we fix him, right? FakeProwl: We can put him in a medical stasis once we've ensured his zero point has been repaired—likely before he'll even have a chance to wake up. Tarantulas: He - yes. He'll be unconscious for the process. Tarantulas: We'll be well in control of that. Whirl: Okay, you'll KEEP him under, then. Gotcha. Tarantulas: @Prowl: ...Remind me I have something to follow up on later. FakeProwl: @Tarantulas «During or after the meeting?» Tarantulas: @Prowl: «After, considering how this meeting is going.» FakeProwl: @Tarantulas «Business?» Tarantulas: @Prowl: «...Yes.» *ugh why does everything have to be business* FakeProwl: @Tarantulas «Stay after the meeting. I have something to address too.» FakeProwl: *to Whirl* Any other questions for now? Tarantulas: *after a moment* @Prowl: «Very well.» Whirl: *pauses, lowering his head to think* Whirl: No. No, I don't think so. Not until I know more. Whirl: The issue of getting into Debris can wait until we know what we're doing. Whirl: But it shouldn't be hard. I used to live there. FakeProwl: And Tarantulas would be very easy to sneak in. Whirl: *regards Tarantulas* Seems like he'd kind of stick out, if you ask me. FakeProwl: All I need to get in is a hologram projector; but, my presence is optional. FakeProwl: *glances at Tarantulas. Care to refute that? Prowl's not going to share if Tarantulas doesn't want to.* Tarantulas: ...You're not aware I mass shift? Whirl: ...No? Tarantulas: *literally forgot he hadn't shown or mentioned* Whirl: I don't recall you telling me that when we met before. Whirl: ...but we were both drunk, so. I might'v forgot. Tarantulas: ...Entirely fair. Well, now you're informed. FakeProwl: *... Prowl missed a story* Whirl: So, to what /degree,/ anyway? Minibot sized? Tarantulas: *looks around, thinks better of it* ...Smaller. Think actual Earth spider sized. Tarantulas: *not giving detail* FakeProwl: For reference. *holds up his hand with his fingers apart. That's the size of an actual Earth spider.* FakeProwl: *since Whirl hasn't been there* Whirl: *blinks* FakeProwl: *... as far as Prowl knows* Whirl: *e has, actually, but it wasn't OUR Earth* Whirl: *wait, we don't share an earth. ...point is, he didn't look for any spiders* Whirl: Well, damn. That's small as hell. Whirl: Killer could probably EAT you. Tarantulas: Oh, he certainly could, hyeh. Whirl: Okay, so, regardless, we've got a way to deal with the cams--*gestures to Soundwave* Whirl: I don't have anything else to add, for now. Whirl: You lot got anything for me? *looks between them* Tarantulas: Hm. We owe you informational packets, but aside from that, plans proceed as expected? For me, at least. FakeProwl: And you need to give us what information you have on Debris. FakeProwl: Even if you're going to actively help us sneak in, having that knowledge ourselves will allow us to improvise in case we're caught or something goes wrong. Soundwave: [[Including as much of the security measures as you remember. And what you know of the equipment hooked up to Springer, if any.]] Soundwave: *Soundwave needs to know how far to stretch himself and what to keep at bay.* Whirl: I meant more as in, questions. And--oh. *this is the first he's heard of that* What exactly do you need to know? FakeProwl: Its structure, its security systems, what you know about the scedules and movements of its residents. It'll be a bit out of date, of course, but it could still prove valuable. Soundwave: [[Voice clips, if you have them.]] Whirl: Right, right. I'll get you that when you get me the packet. *nods to Soundwave, as well* Soundwave: *Nods.* FakeProwl: By "packet." Is giving Soundwave the firsthand documentation to show you and being part of these meetings adequate? FakeProwl: Or do we still need to provide a clear-but-detailed explanation in said packet? Whirl: Get me the clear and detailed, and if you're not going to give ME the firsthand documents, yeah. Soundwave'll do. Soundwave: *He's dying to have them anyway. The more he can slowly learn and piece together about Tarn, the better.* FakeProwl: *glances at Tarantulas* You don't have time to write up an explanation, do you? Tarantulas: I - yes, I ought to be able to. You'll have to cover your own research and whatnot though. Whirl: As long as I have the means. FakeProwl: ... Hm. Most of /my/ research was going to be forwarded to /you./ *lmao prowl doesn't know how to read Rossum's work???* FakeProwl: ...... I can have Hook translate it. Tarantulas: Oh, in that case - I can cover it. Tarantulas: I was under the impression - nevermind. FakeProwl: No. I'll have Hook do it. FakeProwl: You need to focus on actually processing the research and performing whatever tests and experiments we need. Whirl: Anyway, I'm done, unless you need anything else from me. *looks between them again* Tarantulas: *slightly simmering, but he nods. it's fair* Soundwave: *Turns to Whirl and nods. He's fine for now.* FakeProwl: ... I think we're fine. Whirl: *nods back, cordially, to Soundwave* Tarantulas: *nod, tarantulas is going back to his energon* FakeProwl: We'll forward our progress to Soundwave as we make it, and meet back periodically to discuss as we figure out how this procedure will work. Whirl: Gotcha. Whirl: *if Whirl receives an invitation from upstairs, he will go hang with Frenzy and/or Rumble; if not, he's gonna stand, streeetch, and head for the door* Soundwave: *He will receive one from Frenzy. Rumble may join the hangout later, but he'll probably be quiet and just sort of crack the occasional half-afted grin* Soundwave: *Mmm, extra time to look over project details... delicious.* Whirl: *then up the stairs he goes; Whirl has had about as much of this as he can stand for one night* FakeProwl: *... Whirl has upstairs privileges? huh.* FakeProwl: *waits until he's gone. then turns to Tarantulas.* You were saying? Soundwave: *Only to specific rooms. Lingering in the hallway or trying any rooms he's not permitted to try will set off an alarm in Soundwave's helm* Whirl: *No funny business, Whirl would just like to see his friend. And cheer the other one up, or try to* Tarantulas: *heavy sigh* ...There's another potential problem to the ununtrium fusion I haven't thought to take into account yet. FakeProwl: ... A problem that they couldn't hear? FakeProwl: *do you see the skeptical frown on prowl's face?* FakeProwl: *it looks like all his other frowns* Tarantulas: Considering Whirl didn't take well to the first mention of death, I thought I might save this one for the next meeting, once I've found a way around it. FakeProwl: What is it? Tarantulas: Shock, of course. Spark shock. FakeProwl: ... Uh huh? Tarantulas: The systemic stress from the whole experience could cause an overreaction of the spark that would doubtless extinguish it, and there's... given that he'd just have recovered from a zero point in -- Tarantulas: -- the first place, that raises the possibility of him going into shock. FakeProwl: ... How high a probability. Tarantulas: I don't have numbers, but - too high. Far too high. FakeProwl: ... Ways to mitigate the danger? Tarantulas: *some thought. give him a moment* Tarantulas: ...Possibly something to do with extra spark energy. Which we /have/. I just... Tarantulas: Hadn't thought of this until now, so I'm afraid I don't have many answers for you. Tarantulas: *doesn't seem happy about this at all* FakeProwl: Mm. Look into it. ... Along with everything else you're looking into. Tarantulas: *for a moment tarantulas looks weary (and still singed), but he's nodding anyhow* FakeProwl: *being a parent is hard, tarantulas* Tarantulas: *another sip of energon, then he glances over again* ...You had something as well? FakeProwl: Yes. FakeProwl: *points at Tarantulas's singed fur, and says, very calmly,* What the hell. Tarantulas: *oh. /oh/.* ...An accident. Is - there a problem? FakeProwl: What kind of accident. Soundwave: *Quietly goes on the (unseen) alert.* Tarantulas: *glancing around - soundwave's still there, isn't he. can't dodge this one anyway* A lab accident? It's really nothing, Prowl. It - the fur grows back. FakeProwl: ... Was it really a lab accident. Tarantulas: *squinting* Yes? What else do you /think/ it was? FakeProwl: Black Shadow didn't do that? Soundwave: *Thinking to himself: self-harm, an attempt to cause concern and fawning, a-- oh, now that's something new.* Soundwave: *He thought they were "friends". Listens carefully.* FakeProwl: *Prowl trusts no such claims out of somebody who'd turn on his faction for half a billion shanix.* Tarantulas: *OH. okay.* /No/, nono, of course he didn't. He was a model patient, he even /requested/ sedation for internal procedures. Soundwave: *That's why it was in quotes.* FakeProwl: ... Sedation. You can sedate Phase Sixers? Tarantulas: Temporarily, apparently so. I wasn't sure myself until the other day. Don't - don't get too excited thought. Tarantulas: *though FakeProwl: Mm. Send us the results of that and whatever other facts about Phase Sixers you gleaned from the examination later. What lab accident? Tarantulas: I was planning on doing so, no worries. *he's going to leave out the 'eating humans' bit* Soundwave: @Prowl: (txt): Request: Share delivered Phase Sixer data, sedation included. That, kept to self. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «I was planning to.» *that was the "us" he was referring to. us-at-this-table.* FakeProwl: *patiently waits for details about this lab accident.* Soundwave: @Prowl: (txt): Acknowledged. Gratitude offered.  *He thought it might've meant the Constructicons again because Mixmaster. Will resume silence for now.* FakeProwl: *acknowledging ping* Tarantulas: And it - well, as you can tell, was a slight flare-out. Easily contained, and didn't affect any other projects - only the relevant interaction. FakeProwl: What was it. Tarantulas: ...Does it actually /matter/? FakeProwl: *opens mouth; shuts it.* ... *opens mouth again.* Yes. Tarantulas: *squints* ...It was involved in a personal project. There were trace amounts of an unwanted precipitate in my flask at a key step. .../Why/? FakeProwl: Because. I need to know what you did so I can tell you not to do it again. FakeProwl: Do you need something to wash your flasks better? Tarantulas: *weak laugh* No, I'm fine on that front. It - was a misplacement error. *shady af* FakeProwl: "Misplacement error"? Tarantulas: If all you're going to do is interrogate me further, I'm - I probably ought to go. FakeProwl: ... Is that your way of saying you can't answer any further questions honestly? Tarantulas: *stares a moment* ...You could put it that way. But this - this is why I don't /like/ that rule. All that not answering your questions is going to get me is more attention. FakeProwl: I like the rule because now I know not to keep asking. Tarantulas: *physically uncomfortable, twitchy. very conscious of soundwave* Tarantulas: *relaxes a bit at that, though* Tarantulas: ...Thank you, I suppose. Is there anything else? FakeProwl: Do you need anything for the damage. To your... *vague gesture at the burned fur* ... ssssittae? *is that the word.* Tarantulas: Setae, yes - but honestly, just call it fur, or whatever you like. And like I said, it'll grow back on its own. FakeProwl: *setae. he was close.* FakeProwl: ... Pain? Tarantulas: Blocked. Mostly momentary. FakeProwl: ... Fine. Tarantulas: *another sigh. that's too many sighs for this evening. more energon for a sec* Tarantulas: Spark shock, ununtrium binding, limb isolation equipment... Tarantulas: And the zero-point indentification in the first place. FakeProwl: And your half of the data packet to Whirl, unless you'd like me to have Hook just handle your half too. Tarantulas: Nono, I'll be able to interpret my thoughts best. It'll be a break. FakeProwl: Fine. FakeProwl: I'll dig up what research I can from the Decepticons and forward it to you. FakeProwl: And alert Mixmaster that he'll be helping you narrow down compounds. Tarantulas: Appreciated. And - yes. Once I get there. Tarantulas: If there's anything else, just - comm me. I - ought to go. FakeProwl: *nods* Soundwave: [[...Try to be more careful.]] FakeProwl: Yes. Please. Do. No more singing yourself. FakeProwl: ((singing? singeing?)) FakeProwl: Label your used flasks better. Soundwave: ((Singeing)) FakeProwl: And wash them. FakeProwl: And—whatever else you might have done wrong but didn't tell me about. Tarantulas: That's not - *sigh* Yes, I'll attempt such. I really don't see why it's such a concern - it comes with the job, and I'm literally built for it, you know. Tarantulas: *Tarantulas is getting up to go if there's nothing else* FakeProwl: Some tiny, avoidable mistakes are fatal. Tarantulas: I'm aware - and prepared, believe it or not. Tarantulas: I'll be in touch. *a nod toward soundwave, a glance at prowl* Soundwave: *Nothing else here. Soundwave will give Tarantulas a polite nod. He'll also watch to make sure Tarantulas actually goes and doesn't creep up in a corner to do his own spying, once he 'leaves'* FakeProwl: *if he was prepared, he wouldn't have singed himself.* Tarantulas: *shhh* Tarantulas: *prepared for the aftermath* Tarantulas: *and the fatal mistakes* Tarantulas: *this one was just singeing* Tarantulas: *but yep, he's outie, no suspicious activity for him this time around* FakeProwl: *IT WOULD BE BETTER IF HE DIDN'T MAKE A FATAL MISTAKE IN THE FIRST PLACE prowl's not going to say anything, nope, he's going to let tarantulas leave.* Soundwave: *Carefully sneaks the glass off the table with a feeler* Soundwave: *For science purposes. Yes.* FakeProwl: ... So. How did that go. FakeProwl: I think it went well. Whirl: ((LOL)) Soundwave: *Soundwave stares at Prowl for a long, long moment. Then pops a laughing face on his screen.* Soundwave: (txt): All parties survived. This, best possible outcome. Soundwave: *And yes, he DID have his doubts about that outcome.* FakeProwl: *tired, grim smile* I kept waiting for Whirl to casually mention that he'd tried to kill Springer. FakeProwl: Propose it as a last-last resport. That sort of thing. With Tarantulas sitting there. Soundwave: (txt): Primus forbid. Tarantulas slips sufficient for all. Murder attempt slip... native Prowl would not like results. FakeProwl: He called him /Ostaros/... I need to break him of that habit. Soundwave: (txt): Affirmative. Dangerous. If done here, done elsewhere. FakeProwl: *sigh* ... Well. Any concluding thoughts? Soundwave: (txt): Fewer threats in future. Whirl better not antagonized. Prowl knows Soundwave's priorities. Springer not in danger Tarantulas does not cause. FakeProwl: ... It was only one threat. FakeProwl: And it's a—thing Wreckers understand. They don't understand that a subject matters to you until you threaten to kill them over it. Soundwave: @Prowl: (txt): Then fewer: zero. If Prowl correct, Whirl understands. More fights unneeded. ... Other note: Soundwave knows Prowl-Springer design connection. Will not abuse. Prowl's helm still-- Soundwave: own if "late resort" necessary. Soundwave: *He doesn't know if Prowl was worried about that, but. He's putting that out there.* FakeProwl: *hand half-lifts to reach for his neck; consciously puts it back down.* ... We'll ensure the last resort isn't necessary. FakeProwl: And if it is... We'll address that then. Soundwave: *Slow nod.* (txt): Hope maintenance attempted. ... Nothing else at present. Prowl knows stated needs. Inform if own change, require assistance. FakeProwl: *nods* I'll keep you updated on our progress. Soundwave: *And another one.* Soundwave: (txt): ...Negative. One thing. Rule following display... good. Promising. Soundwave: *Taps fingers twice. Now nothing else.* FakeProwl: Was it good? He tried to dodge it until I directly questioned him. Soundwave: (txt): Prowl's. Tarantulas'... minor improvement. Prowl not blamed, made guilty, forced into hyper-attentiveness. Soundwave: *Unlike certain alarm clock incidents.* FakeProwl: He complained about the rule. Soundwave: (txt): This, reason label: 'minor improvement' applied. FakeProwl: Mm. Fair. Soundwave: *Nod.* (txt): Work shift soon? FakeProwl: In about an hour. But I should go update the Constructicons. Soundwave: (txt): Understood. Remain safe. *You know, in general* Soundwave: *This is going to go just as badly if Prowl falls off some huge scaffolding and dies as if Tarantulas burns himself to death.* FakeProwl: *negative. prowl is optional. he has no skills to contribute to this.* FakeProwl: *... admittedly, if prowl's dead, why would tarantulas stay around to help springer?* Soundwave: *Prowl has Tarantulas-controlling skills the others do not. Who knows what he'd do if left to himself. And he'd stay because it's an Ostaros. Same reason he keeps track of the other one.* FakeProwl: *he only needs one Ostaros though, and he's got his own. Prowl's not sure this one would matter to him if it wasn't in the same universe as the Prowl he latched onto.* Soundwave: *Well, hopefully neither of them have cause to find out who's right about that.* Soundwave: *Soundwave would prefer it if they didn't, at least.* FakeProwl: *so would Prowl* FakeProwl: *arguably, prefers it even more than soundwave.* Soundwave: *One would hope so.* FakeProwl: *a nod of acknowledgment; and then he disappears.* Soundwave: *And Soundwave goes to put the glass he hid away into a container for later examination. He wants to know what the dust was.*

[getseriouser]

20 THOUGHTS: Shinboners: Endgame

WHEN Kiss of Death is winning the Herald Sun tipping we really cannot be of any complaint 

This year has been fascinating – the upsets persist, the evenness of the competition continues to emerge and touch wood the narratives well into the guts of autumn are primarily of the on-field variety.

A few teams are on the nose but the ladder by default does require four teams to occupy the bottom four positions to be fair, and a couple who are on the rise or rebounding just need to cool their jets. But there’s always a couple we can whack – so let’s.

1.       Going to start with Ian Chappell. Always liked Chappelli, a captivating listen, a must-listen even. But he has gone out this week suggesting those who hold discontent still with David Warner need to reassess whether Steve Smith would be more worthy of such distain, given his role in the saga. Now Ian, I don’t for a second suggest Smudge is excused from blame, he if nothing else showed extremely dodgy leadership, but old’ hothead Warner conjured the whole idea up in the first place. In the on-the-nose stakes I have Warner well out in front, young Ian.

2.       Let’s get the whacks out of the way this week, next up is Jack Darling. Firstly, in 2019, a socks-up merchant is always interesting. Ruckmen often do it for shin guards. No dramas. Lewis Taylor of Brisbane likes to too, but I think he is just a footy nerd who loves to get a kick on the weekend. But Darling does, and he screams dropkick. Thinks he is Christmas. But what he really is though is the beneficiary of being in the same forward line as Josh Kennedy, playing second foil and getting the second best backman every week. Sure, a nice grab and decent kick, but can’t do anything else to save himself and when the going gets going, like against Port on Good Friday, he looks as good as your Mum’s meatloaf. He can sod off.

3.       Next up let’s go Jordan Lewis. Luke Hodge has probably gone on too long too but we abscond him for being a senior member of a rebounding team. What purpose is Lewis providing? Melbourne were supposedly unbackable for the flag in February and now when the wins are hard to hind, old no-touches Lewis looks like a witches hat St Kilda players need only breeze past en route to kicking a major. Dead set if anyone is looking to win a Coleman, hope you play Melbourne twice this year and get to play on Lewis both times, the Dees have many problems but rolling him out of the old folks home once a weekend to play D50 is a big one.

4.       His teammate, Brayden Preuss, now champ, what’s going on here? I get the Roos are a bit of a mess but you’ve gone from second-fiddle to a 30-year-old good ruckman, to I don’t know, second-fiddle to a 27-year-old All-Australian ruckman. Next thing he’ll buy a Nokia phone to try and organise some HIH insurance. Don’t take stock market tips from Brayden anytime soon.

5.       Back to Perth – Andrew Gaff. Let’s keep this one short, another 30+ on the weekend and for what impact? Said it before, will say it again, don’t care how ‘neat’ the twelve-metre foot passes are, give me half a dozen Robbie Gray disposals instead any day.

6.       A half-baked one for Damian Barrett, not because he got something wrong because we all do that (hello Tom Lynch) but for suggesting on Triple M Saturday when Luke Hodge was on the phone he wasn’t so much wrong but partially incorrect. He said Hodge did the Channel Seven stuff last Thursday because of a contract, which is 100% not true. Does Hodge work for Seven occasionally, sure, but Damian, last Thursday had nothing to do with it, which gives you nothing to try and weasel out of the mistake with ‘yeah but not really’. But only a half-whack this time, you might be improving.

7.       So let’s address Melbourne then, what’s happening there? Not sold its that bad, sure, losses banked are losses banked, but it’s not talent or skill, it’s the things like contested ball, tackles and decisions when defending. Its structure fall down, attitude or a bit of soft tacos, hard tacos. Not saying they’re morals against Richmond tomorrow night but I don’t think they’re 1914 University who went winless from 18 games with a 47% percentage. They’ll come good but perhaps too late – think 2018 Essendon.

8.       As for Essendon’s opponents last week, North, yeah different story. I saw the Dees play ripping football as recently as last September, winning two finals and looking six sevenths of half decent. The last time I saw North Melbourne playing really good, reliable footy Anthony Stevens thought his missus was faithful. I have often thought the Roos were close to breaking out to use a North American term, but whatever promise the Crows win showed they blowtorched that a week later. Not good at all.

9.       Brisbane, yeah this was obvious. West Coast started the season a week late although prone to a bye as shown last Good Friday anyway, and have now been smacked twice in two weeks by decent sides, the Dons and now Pies. This early in the season wins are wins but who are you beating? Gold Coast this week, lose that and I would not be shocked, the Suns are not that far off.

10.   Quick one on Essendon, and it links to Melbourne, all their issues were minor set-up things or problems above the shoulders. Sure, they’ve only beaten a rotten Melbourne, an overrated Brisbane and then North but it ‘looks’ better and who is to doubt them being likely on Thursday creating all sorts of irresistible momentum thereupon?

11.   As for the other ‘good news story’, can we just try and have a cold shower on Carlton? One win doth not a season make. The Doggies played a stinker for one, but when you only had won three of your last 36 games, getting a rare win certainly allows celebration and good feels but it doesn’t pull you out of the abyss. You’re still mighty shit until we see a bigger ‘better’ body of work than four nice quarters against a disinterested Footscray.

12.   And given that the Hawks lost their annual grudge match on Monday, you don’t want to face Clarkson, on the rebound, down at Launceston. Hawthorn at the line on Sunday looks the kinda stuff house deposits are made of – big stride and just get your hands through it.

13.   Although, last one with Carlton, don’t get sucked into Harry McKay fanaticism off the weekend, this column called him two or three weeks back. Don’t be a fool, only one gets serious with this sort of thing.

14.   Gotta mention St Kilda, but do we want to? Second on the ladder, feels like its 2009 again, should we see if Micky Gardiner is free for a Marvel Stadium game-winning goal some time later in the season? But what, edged Gold Coast at home, just, yeah crazy, then have wins against Essendon when they were yuck, Melbourne who are still yuck and barely over a Hawthorn who hasn’t hit strides yet. It’s good form but don’t clear your Septembers just yet Saints fans, this looks like an invalidated 4-1 to this point.

15.   To be fair though, and this applies across the board unless your Carlton as my feelings there as aforementioned are quite clear, this is the season for all seasons when it comes to momentum. Basically everyone has looked really good or really bad at one stage or another within just five weeks. The good is that it shows a team on a roll is as good a flag threat as any, but it also shows that if you lose it all of a sudden in June or July, you are cactus. West Coast, Richmond, simmering in midfield, could easily look like Winx just off the back before the turn right now. No-one is winning premierships in April, Geelong.

16.   Give Steve Coniglio two votes in a losing team on the weekend, he’d be no more than three off the lead, who is probably still Lachie Neale who won’t even finish top five, and the Giant gun is still at $17. Any money you haven’t got on Hawthorn at the line needs to be invested here.

17.   That said, Nat Fyfe again shows he is the best player in the game and I don’t care how good Patrick or Dustin are it’s not close. He stays fit Freo play finals.

18.   Top 8, how many changes would I make to it, not many just for the exercise, Tigers definitely in, I don’t fully trust the Power, otherwise it’s the Dees to try and make a last minute lunge for say Freo or St Kilda’s spot, perhaps?

19.   Footy TV rights, this one is interesting, next deal starts in three or four years’ time – Craig Hutchinson, old wobble-guts Hutchy, who knows media and broadcast deals like few others in town, reckons the next time around an Amazon Prime, Netflix or even Facebook gets involved somehow. Whether it’s one game a week or something, expect a non-traditional TV partner to get a slice of the action. Would be some sort of game changer in this country.

20.   Want to mention our dear friend Izzy Folau. Sure, freedom of speech, religious freedoms, all that. And yes, the idea an atheist gets offended by a Christian declaring they are destined for Hell, something they strongly disbelieve as a concept, is just too funny.

But its less about his rights as a man of faith, but one of an employee who was warned for keeping things ‘in check’ who blatantly went against those wishes.

Poor analogy but if Bucks wants his midfielders to always kick long, Taylor Adams kicks short against Essendon, who is then pulled up on it before the following week’s game, but he continues to disobey instructions, even though kicking short is not a hanging offence in and of itself, you better believe Bucks might want to drop him for recalcitrance. It’s simple Izzy and has little to do with religion.