#the women’s game is going to go to a height we never could of imagine 3 years ago

[misskelley]

Breaking records everywhere in the tourney

109-3 in the past 3 seasons

Source:Boardroom on Instagram

[jpeg-anachronism]

Alrighty, DMC fans, I've figured it out.

Spoilers for those who haven't played DMC 5 yet.

So, we all know that Vergil is Nero's dad. This fact has plagued the DMC fans for years due to it being a loose end that's never tied up.

Who's Nero's mother and Vergil's lover? Unclear. When did this happen? Who knows. How did Vergil fall for someone in what's seemingly a certified out of character moment? Fuck off.

Except here's the thing. The fandom did not fuck off. Forsooth, they fucked on to this thing in such a quick display of background character shipping it would make the Loud House fandom blush.

Side tangent but what the fuck is this I went to look up this one ship from a children's show and I kid you not this is the first thing that came up what the fuck.

Look, bullying is bad. But what if w-

The DMC fans took this one random background lady who stops and looks at Vergil for about three seconds in the opening cutscene of his route and went crazy with it in what was probably the fandom's shining moment.

Suddenly it was all clear. This random ass woman was Vergil's lover, Nero's mom, and the meaning behind the lyric "temptation's pulling me" in one giant package.

And I won't lie to y'all I'm down with that.

Here's the thing, though. We never see her face, hear her name, or really know anything about her besides the fact that she's (hypothetically) Nero's mom. She's the blandest character in the game franchise since we don't know anything aside from her role in canon.

And that's when it hit me.

Capcom did this on purpose.

Let me repeat.

Capcom did this on purpose.

Think about it. At this point, the third game had already come out and fans were practically drooling over Vergil. The fifth game wouldn't be released for a while, so we didn't have peak Vergil madness in the fandom yet but the fan's feelings were clear.

This man was fucking SEXY WITH A CAPITAL C.

The ladies wanted piece of him, and Capcom knew it. Hell, they still know it. Look at the marketing. The official marketing.

Look me in my eyes and tell me that they don't know what this man does to women.

But here's the issue. They needed him to be Nero's father.

When you create a man as perfect as Vergil, you run into a bit of a snag when picking a woman to be his canon lover. Every woman in the stratosphere is going to be tearing their hair out and shaking their fists to the heavens realizing they're not exactly like the woman he's hooked up with.

Sure, some female fans would just be happy to watch Vergil being in love, but deep down every one of them would ask the same question.

"Why couldn't Vergil have fucked me?"

Capcom thrived on Vergil simps. You remove their imaginary chances with an Imaginary character, and things get sticky.

They don't pick a lover for Vergil, the lore falls apart. They do pick a lover for Vergil, the fans fall apart. There was no way to win unless...

Unless they made the fans his lover.

Suddenly, the unpaid intern jumps up in his seat, tasting the promotion as he shouts out "we don't give her a face!"

Silence. A cough can be heard. A few of the people at the meeting start sweating.

"Don't give her a face?" One finally speaks up.

"Right!" The intern yells "No face! No voice! No personality!"

And suddenly the rest of the meeting room understands as well.

See that's the thing. The Fortuna lady is hooded on purpose. She's silent on purpose. She's given no personality on purpose.

Think about her design. We barely see any of her face except a mouth. Her weight is the most average weight one could program, and if it comes off as thinner than the player, they could easily say she's wearing a girdle or something similar under her dress. Her bust size is average, her height is average. Everything about her is painstakingly average and THAT WAS THE POINT.

LADY FORTUNA IS US AND WE ARE LADY FORTUNA. SHE'S A SELF INSERT DESIGNED BY CAPCOM SO WE COULD IMAGINE THAT WE WERE THE ONES WHO FUCKED VERGIL. IT WAS ALL PLANNED FROM THE START AND IT FUCKING WORKED. THE SICK SON OF A BITCHES DID IT.

"But Jpeg, they did give her a face! See?"

I sigh and pat your head.

"No, my sweet. They made this for the other fans. The ones who for whatever reason weren't attracted to Vergil. Of course they would want some form of "closure" as to what she looked like. To them her face was just another mystery to be solved. Besides, why not put this in the actual game? Why leave it as a single, oddly rendered model, banished to the depths of t-posing hell?"

Because it's not canon. That's the answer. The lady from Fortuna's canon face is our face.

"But Jpeg," fucking Oliver Twist pipes up "She's white. What about all the women of color who simp for Vergil? Wouldn't her skin color defeat the purpose?"

First of all, this is something that's hard to skirt around in the first place. No matter how much you cover up a character, you're going to need to show certain details. Look at any dating simulator protagonist.

They can go for basic designs by making them white and brunette, two of the most common genetics, to try to maintain the self insert illusion, but the sad thing is that at the end of the day, it's just a drawing of a man that is not the player.

Except DMC gets around this because fuck those dating sims. Those are for pussies and children of divorce. Devil May Cry treats you like a 100 IQ individual as it makes it clear that if you want it to be so, the Fortuna woman can just be some random ass lady who thought Vergil's cloak looked sick.

Vergil's real lover could be a whole different lady from Fortuna. One that's any race you wish it to be. Whichever race you are, she is too.

Hell, why stop with Fortuna? Who said you have to be a nun in this universe?! By our and Capcom's, logic, you could be whoever the fuck you wanted! It doesn't matter, so long as Vergil ended up smooshing the whooshing with you! Make it whatever pops into your mind! Are you a pizza delivery girl? Another Devil Hunter? A subscriber to Vergil's Onlyfans? Who knows? Oh, wait! You do!

Lady Fortuna is not a single character, nor does she represent such.

Lady Fortuna represents us, and the power of loving a fictional man beyond rational mind.

Lady Fortuna is us.

We are Lady Fortuna.

Or maybe she's some reused asset idk man it's whatever you guys think.

[punkshort]

i had an idea to add to the ‘str’ extras post. i came across an insta account that details “things ____ loves/hates” (i will link an example, credit to them for the idea), thought it could be an interesting, insightful look into sheriff!joel, of things you haven’t touched on but that makes up the wonderful man we have grown to love!

no rush if you decide to do it just a fun lil thing i thought of <3

https://www.instagram.com/p/C3BLN86OquE/?igsh=MWF0aG0ydzA4c3BnZg==

I like this idea! And I am very much looking for a distraction so I decided to have a little fun with it and make a photo collage to go along with my answers:

Likes:

Classic romance novels. I think he likes to keep it a secret but he has a soft spot for the classics (I thought wuthering heights was kind of apt... two people unable to be together, etc...)

Coffee. It's an obvious one, but maybe not so obvious is he prefers to share coffee with someone else. That's why he always found himself going to the diner, even before reader came on the scene. He just likes to be around others, even if it is his annoying younger brother.

Texas - duh. Sheriff Joel couldn't imagine living anywhere else, especially up north. He is a southern boy through and through.

Lazy mornings. Those are rare for him. Sarah tends to have a busy schedule, even on the weekends, so when he gets the chance to sleep in a little or just lounge around before having to get up, he really enjoys that (especially if reader is there, although he hasn't been able to have many mornings with her... yet 👀). To go along with this, he also really likes kissing. Just making out with no goal in mind. Slow, lazy licks and soft little noises under a warm blanket on a Sunday morning with nowhere to be? Perfection.

Old movies. Especially at the drive in. Something about the nostalgia of it really makes him happy. And that romantic side of him can't help himself. It's usually his go-to first date idea.

Football. As Sarah mentioned once before, he really enjoys American football and annoys her with it. Sarah really looks forward to the spring and summer because there's no football on TV and she doesn't have to listen to him yelling in the living room every ten minutes.

His favorite pair of jeans. He's had them for years, the knees are getting worn out but he loves them and won't part with them.

Sarah - obviously. Even though she keeps him on his toes and super busy all the time, he would drop anything for her. He is always struggling to balance work and home and he tends to stretch himself too thin and not take enough time for himself, but he tries to make every single soccer game and school event because he loves seeing how talented Sarah is.

Hiking, specifically with Sarah. It's something they like to do in the summer, at least one weekend a month. Occasionally he can convince her to camp out overnight, but she hates sleeping in a tent so it's a hard sell.

Dislikes:

People who don't use their seatbelts. It's so easy. Just do it. He's seen too many accidents in his line of work and he hates when people don't use them.

Snakes. Sarah never lets him forget about the time when he was nine years old and he went to put on his boot to go play outside and was surprised to find a snake sleeping inside. To this day, he can't put his shoes on without checking them first.

Oysters. It's a texture thing, he thinks they're gross. He doesn't care they are an aphrodisiac, he doesn't need it 😉

Line dancing. Even though he's from Texas, it makes him cringe every time he sees people doing it.

Snow/being cold. He prefers the heat. It's what he's used to and he doesn't like shoveling snow on the rare occasion Texas gets any accumulation.

Lip Gloss. He likes kissing. A lot. And he thinks lip gloss is too sticky.

Wool Sweaters. Because he runs hot as it is and wool just makes it worse. Plus, it's itchy.

People who talk about themselves too much. Especially women he's been on dates with. He likes learning about other people, but when it becomes apparent they have no interest in learning about him, it's a turn off.

Golf. Because all my Joels hate golf. For no particular reason at all.

Thank you so much for this ask! It was a lot of fun putting together.

[messinwitheddie]

Have any tutorials of how you draw your tallest? (Or irkens in general?)

If Cini could wear any human casual clothing, what would he wear that is comfortable?

If he had it his way, would Cini change the life of Irken society?( you know with the whole tall and short thing.) or change everything with the empire expansion. We know their people must have many enemies with other alien races but if there was an alternative to that and not concur or go to war with them, would Cini be that one Tallest to break that cycles? I mean he looked tired of being tallest.

I'm not the best teacher. My drawings are pretty inconsistent. The best I can explain my process is, make a mark, erase a mark, rinse, repeat until it looks like a figure.

These were drawn super quick. Not sure how much help they'll be, but I tried to leave in as many reference lines in as possible.

These are some sketches on how I approach drawing a tallest with the typical JV bone-skinny body frame

The torso is where I struggle the most. I probably draw them too tall, but that's how it comes out.

It's fun to experiment with different body types;

From left to right; Tallest Spittle, Greezee and Blitz

From left to right: Tallest Miyuki, Dava and Kii

I have a tendency to draw women tallests with big hips (because that's fun for me), but Irkens really don't have gender dimorphism, and their fashion/ clothing styles are all unisex, so there's no need to follow that rule when you design your own ocs.

I would have to look through my blog to find any posts about how I draw smaller Irkens. Mostly same advice.

As far as Cini's choice in comfortable human clothing; his robes are very uncomfortable, so anything would feel comfy by comparison.

But I imagine he would immediately gravitate towards those flimsy tie dye sun dresses you see in those little hippie boutiques at the mall. Tie dye is something he would never have seen in the empire plus so many swirls and colors!

He would have a field day dress shopping. Most human male clothes would be too lacking in flair.

And to address the third question; Irkens are brainwashed at birth into believing their height based hierarchy is the natural and correct way for their society to operate and have been brainwashed into believing this for MILLIONS and millions of years.

I'm not sure if it's within the limits of his imagination to conceive a reality where Irkens did not serve a tallest who carried out the will and executed the design of the control brains.

BUT Cini wished from the moment he was measured someone, ANYONE else had been measured taller than him. His favorite partabout being tallest was lounging and smoking record breaking amounts of pipe amber.

His passion was his trapeze act and watching performances at the civilian theater. No "important" occupation really appealed to him when he was a cadet; too boring, not enough fun music and visuals. He only served in the military because all Irkens are required to go through basic training. His stats were a joke as far as his height bracket went. He stayed the same rank for almost 200 years.

Cini tried as hard as he could to be a good tallest, as much as his imposter syndrome made it for him. MOST of his reign was actually spent improving infrastructure within the empire's existing territories. He was a generous patron of the arts and sciences (beyond military research). Service drones legally received more off time and better medical benefits. Cini avoided brute force unless absolutely necessary. He loved to play ambassador. The Vortians, the Space Bees, the Inquisitorians, ect all became official allies of the Irken Armada during Cini's rule. He genuinely took the time and effort to listen to their concerns and compromise.

Cini was wise enough to know it's better to make friends than enemies in the long game, especially unnecessarily. The empire wasn't perfect, but Irkens and alien citizens alike enjoyed a higher quality of living under Cini's leadership methods.

It wasn't until the very end of his reign did he declare a war. He did so because of pressure forced down on him by the control brains, who were intimidated by the corrupting freedoms the lesser drones seemed to be enjoying and deeply concerned by the lack of new conquests that have been made over the centuries.

The Irken/ Planet Jacker war was bloody from the very beginning.

Cini would not live down the shame of his decision. Too many casualties on his conscience.

Every drone is worthy of dignity; Cini believed that. He would change A LOT about Irken society if he could. He tried. He wish he had tried harder.

[another-heroine]

OC TAG GAME ｡*･♡;

I saw some mooties doing it, so I decided to do mine as well!

Favorite OC: Andrine Vanfell (Pathfinder: Kingmaker)

What can I say?

Don't matter how much time passes, she is my baby, my cinnamon roll, my fav bimbo.

I have had funny moments playing her, and when I'm feeling down, I like to imagine what she would do in my place (answer: dancing and shaking the shit off)

Newest OC: Laura de Loiola (Resident Evil 4 Remake)

Since I'm hyperfixated in RE4 Remake, I was driven to create an OC to bang Luis' brains out to interact with the game's blorbos. Laura was inspired in another OC who didn't see the daylight unfortunately (she would be a WtA TTRPG character).

I'm still sharping her background and personality while writing The Windmill, but overall I noticed that she and Luis shares the same brain cell, and that's beautiful (although she has social anxiety, but they are a pair of weirdos).

Oldest OC: Renée Lunenoire (Original Series)

My best girl, I would never imagine that a character from my first sapphic oneshot would become one of my comfort characters ever.

Renée is a werewolf, and also (not less important) a tailor. She is short (162cm), and at first sight people could think 'oh what a cutie', but when she changes her shape to a fuckin 3-meters-height black wolf, everybody passes out /jk

She is a blorbo, a bisexual mess. Thinking about if I gave ADHD to her or not.

Meanest OC: Olívia Garmendia (Original Series)

Another woman that God forbids to do anything.

From the same universe of Renée, Olívia is a blood sorceress, and became a noble after an unfortunated 'accident' with her former sire. She has no patient with the court men, mainly because she knows everybody's sins there (while the Queen looks at the other side).

She doesn't measure her actions to keep children and young women safe. The Marquise of Iparredia isn't there to make friends. Few people know her gentleness and vulnerability (Hugo is one of them).

Softest OC: Ekaterina Grushankaya (Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous)

Oh yes, her.

Katya is one of my tallest babies, and I guess it's the one with the softest demeanor of all.

A druid from Irrisen, she has seen up close how a kingdom works under Baba Yaga's chicken legs. Firsthand ruthless, baby. And we are not counting her tribe's distrustful arround her origins; after all, why would someone leave a baby aasimar with them?

Her voice is soothing and she avoids violence, but when she really got angry or is conviced that peace is not an option, pick a god and start praying. Her animal totem isn't a boar for nothing.

Most Aloof/Standoffish OC: Cassandra Constantinescu (Vampire Hunter D)

Like we use to say in Brazil, I must confess that she is my 'left behind at the barbacue' character, but I enjoyed so much to write her background. Cassandra has PTSD since the day her former home was invaded by vampires and their thralls. Hence, she carries dark emotions, and most of the time she feels like she doesn't belong anywhere. It's hard for her to trust in strangers, and even her few close friends almost have no clues about what's going on her head.

Dumbest (Affectionate) OC: Damian Vieri (Original Series)

Oh, my boy, my pal, my little soldier.

He changed SO MUCH.

He is from the same universe of Renée and Olívia, and is an anarchist Hunter of Myths (a kind of monster hunter). He left his home after aa fight with his father, because the old man didn't accept he has a son, not a daughter. Then my short king started a new life, and for some reasons he will meet Renée and they will adopted dozens of cats.

Smartest OC: Melina Trevelyan (Dragon Age Universe)

Do you know when you create a character whose intelligence is over yours but you can't stand in their mind enough because you are a dork? Yes, that's my relationship with Melina lol

I must confess that it's still a bit bitter talking about her after all the shit that happened at the TTRPG where she was one of the characters, but anyway. I can't forsake her, maybe one day I could reboot her story (and keep Lucius on her life, because he is her silver lining)

OC you'd be best friends irl: Hugo Otobeltza (Original Series)

My goodest boy. Don't matter if he killed someone and/or broke somebody's bones, he did what he could to survive! Hugo always has a daddy joke on his sleeve, and is always ready to help his beloved ones. If he existed in real life, probably he would be an Uber driver lol

Tagging: @nemo-of-house-hamartia @navstuffs @aelyosos @dmagedgoods @dujour13 @angrygoatwoman, and you!

[doylewesleywalls]

In 2022 President Biden fell off his bike on a ride in Delaware. This made news; pudgy boys like Sean Hannity and worthless nobodies like Jesse Waters used that fact to try to make fun of Biden, to belittle him, to call into question his fitness to be president. Ridicule like this isn't what intellectuals prepare for an Oxford debate, but such childishness plays well on the Fox Channel. Can you figure out why we never heard about Trump falling off his bike? Take a look at this photo. Imagine Trump trying to ride a bike at his age and in his physical condition. I really don't want to wallow in the muddy hole of immaturity, but since Trump does so by making fun of others as if his brain were stuck in the 2nd grade, let me put it this way: Can you imagine this fat-ass trying to balance himself on a bike? That's why you haven't seen a photo of him falling off a bike. Here we see his son, Jr., holding his Dad's hand so his Dad can simply walk along a level stage, much less ride a bike. FDR could be a great president in a wheel chair. The qualities that would make someone a good quarterback in the NFL are not the qualities we should be considering when choosing the leader of the free world. Unfortunately for all of us, too many Americans are stupid enough to be swayed by meaningless moments like this. For years I mentioned to my university students that Plato said women shouldn't vote because they would vote for the more handsome man. I knew that would cause the feminists in the class to take umbrage. Then I told the students that Plato was right about most women, but with that observation he'd only told half the truth. True, one cannot expect most women to do much more than they did with JFK and Hitler (watch the videotapes: they swoon over the handsome candidate, JFK, as well as the abhorrent, brutal dictator). But Plato left out the other half of the problem: men are equally stupid, if not more stupid, than the women. They need to find out who can quarterback the USA into greater prominence or, rather, cut their taxes . How far can he throw a bomb in football? And how tall is this guy after all? George W. Bush used to make money when his dad was the Vice President by betting people that his dad was taller than President Reagan. VP Bush stood in the background all the time. And, after all, wasn't President Reagan "the Man"? Wasn't he "the Boss" (like a MAGA lackey will say today about Trump as if he desperately needed some big daddy figure)? Height is certainly going to matter if one has to throw over the linemen who protect him in a football game. But that "quality" is not on the list of qualities one might need to lead a nation. We could start with a well-earned confidence as opposed to an embarrassing arrogance. How about some gravitas as opposed to some gravy for your lunch of french fries? But to expect that understanding from the American electorate today is to be bitterly disappointed. After all, our fellow Americans elected MTG and Boebert and George Santos. Not only are far too many of them flummoxed when asked to explain and appreciate the genius of the three branches of government or the glory of the separation of church and state, but they are, even though they are old enough to vote, moved to cheers and laughter by taunts and stunts and insults like emotionally immature children.

[richardsondavis]

This post will NOT cover everything that took place in GamerGate. That simply isn't possible here. GamerGate wasn't one drama, it was many small and large events that unfolded and built upon each other over a period of years, and took place in every part of the internet at once. My aim here is to lay out the key figures, and give a general understanding of what happened and why. There are resources linked throughout the post which can expand on events I mentioned, but there are many more that I left out.

Come with me as we explore the dark corridors of the internet that gave birth to the modern alt-right. I'm going to try and keep this gaming related, because this isn't a political discussion board, but references to greater political movements are unavoidable.

Be warned, this post contains basically every ism and phobia that you could possible imagine. Tread with care.

Also, when I refer to 'gamers' with a lowercase G, I just mean normal gamers as a whole. When I say 'Gamers', I mean Gamergate supporters.

Anita Sarkeesian - Sexism in Gaming

This shitstorm began in 2013, though its roots trace back far earlier, and while it would come to suck in thousands of pundits, politicians and thinkers from around the world, it began with one woman: Anita Sarkeesian.

Anita is a Canadian-American media critic. She started her Youtube Channel Feminist Frequency in 2009, analysing portrayals of women in pop culture. In 2011 she worked with feminist magazine Bitch to create a series of videos titled 'Tropes vs Women', which examined the damaging cliches and stereotypes against women in film and tv. It did pretty well, but she was still a small voice in a small circle. The natural next step was to talk about games, and that's what she did in 2012. 'Tropes vs Women in Video Games' criticised the sexualisation of women in games, the way they are treated as helpless damsels in distress, or given to the player as a reward. As Sarkeesian herself points out in her first episode:

"It's both possible and necessary to simultaneously enjoy media, while also being critical of its problematic or pernicious aspects'.

The videos were pretty even handed, and never really took the 'rabid angry feminist' tone that people have come to portray. I recommend taking a look. Anita was clearly not much of a 'gamer' herself, but she saw the positives that could be drawn from them.

In order to fund the project, Anita created a Kickstarter - which was all the rage back then. The kickstarter drew attention from every corner. Some of it was positive - she asked for $6000, but ended up with almost 7000 backers and $160,000 pledged. However a lot of it was bad.

Keep in mind that this all took place at a very critical moment in the feminist movement. Tumblr and Twitter were at their height, and a lot of positive momentum was being made. The video game industry was gradually becoming more inclusive too. Games at the time were - to much controversy - including more POC, women, and LGBT characters. But at the same time, a push began against this. A lot of men were feeling alienated by the rapid change, and this negative stance on feminism tended to look past the majority (who were pretty reasonable) and focus only on the minority of feminists who were explicitly anti-male. And in time, the progressive community would make the same mistake with gamers. But for now, it was these anti-feminists who saw the premise of Sarkeesian's videos as a threat toward 'their territory' - the male oriented video game industry. Anita became the poster child for everything these men hated. There was a coordinated effort on 4chan to destroy her Kickstarter, to DDOS the site, to report her twitter accounts, and otherwise eliminate her. It got pretty nasty. At the time it was a bit of a shocker just how nasty it got, but little did we know it was just the start.

A number of articles started to surface on various sites documenting the bizarre outrage, and that only lent it more momentum. Kotaku, Polygon, and other more left-leaning gaming news sites headed the exposure.

Anita received enormous harassment on social media, including vast numbers of rape and death threats, and she was doxxed multiple times (a practice in which a person's home address is posted online). Her wikipedia articles were vandalised with racial and sexual slurs, and she was sent drawings of herself being raped. A video game was created, 'Beat Up Anita Sarkeesian', in which players cover a photo of her in blood by clicking on it. Critics who disparaged the 'game' received death threats themselves. The creator of the game, Gregory Alan Elliot, was taken to court. The case had significant implications for online freedom of speech in Canada. She was accused of being Jewish, and received enormous amounts of antisemitism dubbing her Jewkeesian, until it came to light that her heritage was actually Armenian - and the harassment switched to an Armenian theme without skipping a beat.

Anita capitalised on her infamy, and used it to speak out on sexual harassment at TEDxWomen, as well as several universities. She was scheduled to speak at the 2014 Game Developer's Choice Awards, and would receive an accolade herself, but an anonymous bomb threat was called in to try and get the event cancelled. It really is hard to overstate the sheer level of vitriol this woman had thrown at her. But she would not be the only one.

"I don't get to publicly express sadness or rage or exhaustion or anxiety or depression, I can't say that sometimes the harassment really gets to me, or conversely that the harassment has become so normal that sometimes I don't feel anything at all. I don't get to express feelings of fear or how tiring it is to be constantly vigilant of my physical or digital surroundings. How I don't go to certain events because I don't feel safe. Or how I sit in the more secluded areas of coffee shops and restaurants so the least amount of people can recognise me."

Zoe Quinn - Ethics in Journalism

Zoe Quinn is an American video game developer and writer. In 2013, she released the game 'Depression Quest', a text-based game in which the player roleplays as themselves and is taken through a number of scenarios relating to depression. The game was based on her own experiences, and was received positively by critics. It's a raw and heartfelt project, and I really recommend it. However, there was a contingent who insisted that Depression Quest couldn't really be called a game, and it's true that it blurred the lines between a book, a visual novel, and a game.

This began a broad - and still ongoing - conversation within the gaming community. What is a game? People tried to come up with a clear cut definition, but there was always something that fell outside it. Does it need a failure state? That rules out Animal Crossing, which is definitely a game. Does it need an end point? That rules out Tetris. Does it need violence? Does it need characters? Does it need interactivity? Does it need choice? Does it need goals? Does it need visuals or sound? It's easy to look at most games and say 'yes, that's a game'. It's easy to look at a book or film and say it isn't. But when projects approach the line, things get a bit confusing. There are those who looked at Depression Quest and saw a book with extra steps, and there are those who insisted it was a game, but with all the extraneous stuff taken away. This is a massive philosophical debate, but we're here for drama, so let's move on. All you need to know is - it got great reviews, and some players were unhappy.

Zoe was added to the list of persona non grata. She received her own wave of death and rape threats, but rather than backing away, she documented them and spoke out about them to the media. This earned her even more hatred, which steadily grew more and more intense, to the point where she fled her home out of fear for her own safety.

But it wasn't until August 2014 that 'GamerGate' as we know it would officially begin. And it started at the hands of a relative unknown name, even now. Zoe's former boyfriend Eron Gjoni published a long and sprawling blog post about their relationship in which he levelled a number of accusations against her, the most inflammatory of which was that she had been given positive coverage (of Depression Quest, among other things) by a Kotaku journalist with whom she was sexually involved. This was a false accusation. It later came out that this journalist, Nathan Grayson, had barely ever mentioned Quinn or her work, and when he did, they hadn't been together. But never let the truth get in the way of a good story. The letter included copies of chat logs, text messages, and emails, and for all the world appeared to be legit.

The Gamers in question accused Zoe of exchanging sexual favours for positive press and professional advancement in what they called the 'Quinnspiracy'. Of course, Zoe Quinn stood to gain nothing from the praise Depression Quest received. Contrary to the claims that she was using her status as a woman to gain money... the game was free. And always had been. But this spawned one 'debate' which would go on to define GamerGate - that of ethics in game journalism. Video game press came under enormous scrutiny, especially the left-leaning Kotaku. The idea was that if a pundit/reviewer/critic was left leaning, their views could not be relied upon, because according to GamerGate, they were biased. Large lists were created to map out the various 'SJW Journalists', which boiled down to a blacklist of public figures who spoke out against GamerGate.

But for Zoe, it just meant abuse.

A lot of this began on 4chan - because of course it did - and users leapt at the chance to renew their attacks on Zoe Quinn and Depression Quest. Adam Baldwin (yes that one) coined the term GamerGate on Twitter, and his followers sent it trending. GamerGate gradually developed into a movement which would viciously attack anyone it saw as a target, and had its base in 4chan and Reddit.

Within four months of the blog post, Quinn's record of threats had exceeded a thousand. Around that time she is quoted as saying:

"I used to go to game events and feel like I was going home [...] Now it's just like... are any of the people I'm currently in the room with ones that said they wanted to beat me to death?".

I would go into detail on the exact content of these threats but frankly, I don't want to. All you need to know is that they contain the worst possible things that some very creative people could come up with. Quinn's Tumblr, Dropbox and Skype accounts were hacked, and she once again fled to live with friends. Everyone even tangentially connected to her got showered with hatred. It was a full on witch hunt.

In a BBC interview, Zoe summed up her experience.

"To me, GamerGate will always be glorified revenge porn by my angry ex. Before it had a name, it was nothing but trying to get me to kill myself, trying to hurt me, going after my family. GamerGate will always be that to me. There was no mention of ethics in journalism at all, besides making the same accusation everybody makes toward any successful women, that clearly she got to where she is because she had sex with someone".

EDIT: There was a section here in which I covered the Alec Holowka scandal in 2019, but commenters pointed out that it isn't really relevant to GamerGate, and I agree with them, so I removed it.

Brianna Wu - Taking Action

Wu is an American video game developer and the founder of Giant Spacekat, a small game studio. In October 2014, she began monitoring 8chan (think 4chan's even worse cousin), and began tweeting about GamerGate, ridiculing them for:

"...fighting an apocalyptic future where women are 8 percent of programmers and not 3 percent".

In the process, she placed herself in the sights of the mob. Anonymous details about her, including her address, were leaked on 8chan, and of course she got the standard death and rape threats, and had to flee her home. If this seems like it's becoming a pattern, that's because it is. The pattern would repeat itself over and over going forward. A minor figure speaks out about something, right wingers try to shut them up with abuse, they use that abuse to increase their platform (thereby becoming a minor left wing celebrity), they become an even bigger target, and they soon end up plastered across the internet.

But to the fury of many Gamers everywhere, none of these women were backing down. In February 2015, Wu declared:

"By attacking me so viciously, they're helping give me the visibility to usher in the very game industry they're terrified about".

Wu created a legal defence fund for women targeted by GamerGate, offered cash for information leading to the prosecution of its worst members, and became heavily involved with the FBI. She exclusively attended events with a security detail. As of today, she and her husband continue to live under aliases.

In 2017, the FBI closed their investigation and declined to prosecute any of the men who sent threats (even though two had confessed). Wu went to the media, campaigning for dedicated FBI agents who understand and monitor the dark corners of the internet like 8chan.

While Wu, Sarkeesian and Quinn would become the three horsewomen of the GamerGate apocalypse, they were not alone. Other women who became major targets include Jenni Goodchild, Liana Kerzner, Devi Ever, Leigh Alexander, Felicia Day, and more. It simply isn't possible to cover every single victim of this movement.

At the time, most people who played video games had no idea this was even going on. And often it was getting swept up in generalisations that turned regular gamers into Gamers. There were those who felt like they were being unfairly portrayed as sexist/racist/whatever else, and responded indignantly. This became heavily involved with the #notallmen and #yesallmen movements (and then #notallgamers). But sometimes those generalisations were right. There was a lot of anger going around in general.

Vivian James - Politics in Gaming

Of course, to the 4channer, the ideal woman doesn't exist. She has to be created. And so Vivian was born. Vivian James (chosen because it sounds like Video Games) was created as a mascot for GamerGaters on 4chan, and her portrayal tells us a lot about what Gamers wanted women to be. She was an anthropomorphized avatar of the /v/ (Vidya) community on 4chan, created in response to a totally separate Zoe Quinn controversy surrounding game jams (events in which developers race to make weird and wacky games). She was used in propaganda as a champion of ‘free speech’.

You see, one of the many debates (and we must use this term loosely) that GamerGate created was that of 'politics' in gaming. Representation was increasing of LGBT people, POC and women in games, and some players insisted that these inclusions were politically motivated. They claimed that games as a medium were not meant to be 'political', and forcing 'politics' into the games was a negative thing. They wanted a return to the 'non-political' status quo - and it just so happened that the status quo was white straight American men (usually with guns). Because they themselves were mostly white straight American men, it never struck them as political for a game to feature a white straight American man, it was simply normal. The default. And any deviation from this was labelled as 'political'.

Of course, any intelligent person can see through this to its deeper meaning - these players didn't want gays, women, and non white characters in their games because they were prejudiced. All media is political in some way. Even games which try not to be political.

This is what GamerGate boils down to - a war over the status quo. One side pushing for change, the other pushing to stop that change.

Vivian never mentioned her gender, her ideas or her politics when she played a game - you could play against her and mistake her for a guy. Rather than disrupt the status quo by existing, she allowed it to absorb her. And that's what Gamers wanted from all minorities - they were welcome as long as they didn't disrupt games as a haven where everything is catered to the default player, a white straight American man. Vivian was a 'real gamer' because she embraced the default. Anyone who rejected that default was a fake gamer, whose love of games was a lie, and whose real purpose was sabotage.

This links in pretty heavily to the #NotYourShield movement, basically a platform for women, POC and LGBT Gamers who supported GamerGate and saw its opponents as exploiting them as a shield to deflect criticism. Ironically, GamerGate used these people as evidence that they were not prejudiced at all, in a very 'I'm not racist, my best friend is black' kind of way.

Penning the Playbook

GamerGate had found an effective way of tearing down its targets, and its playbook would come to include strategies like gaslighting, dogpiling, sea lioning, gish galloping, and dogwhistling - and would inform the strategies of the alt right. By creating a state of fear, where people are too scared to even speak against GamerGate, they were able to silence opposition. And unlike its opposition, who were very real and public figures, GamerGate was decentralised and anonymous, akin to a swarm with no individual leader or face, and which therefore was incredibly hard to defeat. This was never a two way street. Of course, GamerGate had its open and public supporters. Let's go through a few of these colourful characters now!

Carl Benjamin (Sargon of Akkad)

Sargon is your standard basement dweller youtuber, the kind of guy who DESTROYS libs with FACTS and REASON. He gained a lot of traction from GamerGate, and he explains why here. You can kind of imagine him as a more extreme Ben Shapiro.

Richard Spencer

Another Nazi. Richard Spencer was a big supporter of GamerGate. You can look into himself if you like but frankly I don't want to do the research into him because that means I have to watch and read shit he has said. His main claim to fame is being the man who coined the term 'Alt Right'

John Bain (Totalbiscuit)

Totalbiscuit was a popular game critic who died of bowel cancer in 2018. He is widely credited with being the man who legitimised GamerGate. It should be pointed out that Bain was never a white supremacist or abuser or anything like that - and he is often wrongly characterised as being more extreme than he really is. He was conservative, aggressive and thin skinned, but he wasn't evil. To him, GamerGate was always about ethics in journalism, what defines a game, and politics in gaming. He had been an ethical crusader long before GamerGate, and so none of this is truly surprising. He was either incredibly naive or just wilfully ignored the fact that these online movements were just fronts. It is somewhat ironic how much he had in common with James Stephanie Sterling (once known as Jim Sterling before transitioning), another British pro-consumer activist and long-time collaborator, who was always on the total opposite end of the GamerGate spectrum. Indeed, most of John's closest associates were anti-GamerGate.

I met TB once at a convention and he seemed nice enough.

Milo Yiannopoulos

During his time working at Breitbart, Milo was an outspoken supporter of GamerGate. His big thing was that he was a gay right-winger, and he used his homosexuality to deflect criticism for his views. He has since been banned from basically every site possible. Like many others, he seemed somewhat right leaning at first, but gradually unveiled himself as a full on nazi.

Steven Jay Williams (Boogue2988)

Boogie is a youtuber who came to fame through the persona of 'Francis', in which he would put on a funny voice and rage about minor things. But gradually he became more popular just for being himself, and his own views. When GamerGate first emerged, Boogie tried to stay moderate, but his views got more and more extreme as time went on. In 2017, Boogie had a gastric bypass surgery, which made him lose weight. But after that, he revealed himself to be quite a nasty person.

Christina Hoff Sommers

Sommers is an author and philosopher of ethics, and a resident scholar of the American Enterprise Institute. She is probably the most 'legit' of GamerGate's supporters, and has carved out a niche in making right wing talking points palatable to the average person, before they move on to the more extreme online figures.

EDIT: Steve Bannon

As a commenter pointed out to me, I've left out someone important. While Steve Bannon himself was not very strongly linked to GamerGate, he was the founder of the heavily right wing site Breitbart, which gave a platform to Milo Yiannopoulos and many others. Bannon would go on to play a pivotal role in the Trump presidency.

Sexism in Gaming Studios

While this is far removed from GamerGate, it's a case of 'the birds coming home to roost'. The movements that GamerGate helped to start have returned and taken many large game developers by storm in recent years. I thought I would go over some of them.

Part 1: The Fellowship of the Rats

The first big publisher to go under the magnifying glass was Ubisoft. In mid 2020 they came under fire for sexual harassment allegations.

Last month the company, one of the world’s largest video game publishers with a portfolio including Assassin’s Creed and Far Cry, launched a probe after allegations of sexual misconduct were shared online. Serge Hascoet, chief creative officer and the company’s second-in-command, has resigned, as has the human resources director, Cecile Cornet, and the managing director of the Canadian branch, Yannis Mallat, Ubisoft said on Sunday.

MANY of Ubisoft's executives were forced to stand down.

This video goes into a lot of detail on exactly how much of this abuse was covered up at Ubisoft.

Unfortunately a year later, Ubisoft had made minimal changes. Luckily for them, the spotlight would soon be stolen away.

Part 2: The Two Lawsuits

This particular controversy concerns Activision Blizzard. After a two year investigation, the company was found to have extreme harassment against women and minorities, and has discrimination baked into its terms and conditions of employment. Everything from compensation, assignment, promotion and termination is affected by gender. The entire company is governed by a 'Frat Boy Culture'. California's Department of Fair Employment and Housing filed a lawsuit against them..

At first, Blizzard's president Allen Brack claimed no knowledge of this. But then numerous former and current Blizzard employees spoke up to support the accusations. They insisted that almost nothing was being done within the company to fix it. On 26 June, more than 800 employees (eventually as many as 2000) signed an open letter too their leadership demanding that Blizzard recognise the seriousness and show compassion for victims. When that didn't work, employees held a meeting and on 28 July, organised the Activision Blizzard Walk Out For Equality. Turnout exceeded two hundred.

Renowned scumbag Bobby Kotick released a statement describing Blizzard's earlier statement as 'tone deaf' and promised 'swift action'.

An article by Kotaku went into more detail on the infamous 'Cosby Suite', and revealed that Ghostcrawler (one a high-up on World of Warcraft) was on the list of guests.

Numerous developers left the company, either in protest or due to allegations against them. More and more horrible stories began to emerge, far worse than the original lawsuit had uncovered. Sponsors pulled out, investors filed a class action lawsuit toward the company, and Brack stepped down.

You can read more about it here

Hilariously, Blizzard also completely neutered any remotely sexual or flirtatious lines, emotes and jokes out of WoW.

Part 3: The Return of the Gamers

Since then, numerous other companies have been accused of similar problems. Paradox Interactive, SCUF, Insomniac Games, Bethesda. In fact, it might be easier to list the gaming companies that haven't had any allegations.

It turns out that the people who worked in these companies were often just as nasty as the fans.

Luckily, the reaction has been a far cry from GamerGate. On that, at least, we seem to have made some progress. And I suppose that's something to be optimistic about.

A Troubled Legacy

So what is the legacy of GamerGate? It never really 'concluded' or 'finished'. But if we zoom out on our scope a little, we see that it was just a tributary which flowed into the greater river of the alt-right. And from that river would spill forth Donald Trump, Pizzagate, Qanon, the Manosphere, and Incels. GamerGate was arguably just a microcosm of a much greater societal movement, not its cause, but it was the moment that young online conservatives began to push back against progressivism, and collectively organise. It was the moment where their techniques for censorship, propaganda and recruitment would be rewritten for the internet era. And it was the moment when thousands of online fascists looked around and realised their views weren't that rare after all.

The positive effects have been there too, however. The push back against Gamergate has definitely helped us recognise the dark corners of the internet, and also led to widespread changes in the industry. But the consequences of GamerGate have not yet fully shown themselves.

It's hard to say where it will all lead.

[ultramaga]

I loved everything about this - sexy woman, gamma world article, MERP ad. I can’t remember if this was the year I went to playing MERP from dnd, then to rolemaster. It would be strange to jump back in time machine, and to explain to all the dnd players “Nah, the game won’t be about sexy women and adventures, it will be about fucking monsters and going to the ball”. Man, if I could show them current dnd players, the whole gamer crowd would have jumped ship to literally any other rpg. I think 2nd ed nearly killed dnd. Frankly, it could have been a supplement for 1st edition, but the people in charge were getting greedy, and figured small changes were enough to get the player base to shill out huge amounts of money for new rulebooks. 3.5 worked because it was radical enough to be a different game. Then came 4th, and they tried to emulate the computer game experience in tabletop, which is really dumb imo. 5th edition rules are technically good, but man the culture went rancid. I think it’s very revealing that even at the height of the resurgence of popularity, I never saw someone in a dnd t-shirt, for example. It did not used to be like that, and dnd merch was pretty important to the old game as a way of keeping afloat. I read that WotC is moving over to making dnd an online only game, with AI DMs and no good or evil. (*shrug*) I think it will fail, but at least there’s a gazillion alternatives. What I fear is that tabletop gaming will die - I don’t see kids who play, and more importantly, most kids have never even heard of it. They play computer games. That’s it. And while there are exceptions, most computer games are not creative - they rely on reflexes and yeah, some tactics, but not imagination. One of the great hopes is from modding. It takes creativity, genuine creativity, to mod. You have a vision, you do the research, you try to build and then share your dream. I have played Fallout 4 for countless hours because despite a boring base game, the modding community has written far better stories, and incorporated professional scripts and even hired voice actors. I worry about AI being used for that. Imagine if coca cola was advertised by an ai generating hundreds of mods that subtly steered the players into seeing and hearing ads for their products. Or a political party did the same thing. The modding community couldn’t check every apple for a razor blade. AI is going to be used for evil, you can count on it. We live in an exciting and terrifying time. And I just wish sometimes I could walk away, be the guy I was back in 86, with a room full of friends and a map and some dice.

Vintage Magazine - Dragon #108 (Apr1986)

[b0ba-chan]

Girls in Skirts

summary: suna was just quiet and a little weird pt. 2 pt. 3

pairing: Suna Rintarou x fem!Reader

word count: 1400

warnings: creepy!suna, panty stealing/sniffing, nonconsensual up skirt pics, male masterbation, dark, breeding kink

a/n: i’d like to thank @miyangel​ for opening my brain to creepy suna, if this is not your thing do not read it, i put warnings for a reason, send hate and i’ll just ignore it

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

“Who’s at the door?” you come downstairs to see your mother in the kitchen, preparing tea. “Ah, it’s my coworker, can you get the door? Also, can you make friends try and make friends with her son? He’s kinda quiet and shy.” 

Of course you agree, you weren’t going to be rude to guests. You run to the door and open it for the two standing behind it. Your eyes first meet a lady, about the same age at your mother and then looking up to see a taller, lankier figure behind her. He was tall and had beautiful, fox-like eyes that never left his game console. You’d be lying if he wasn’t handsome, definitely your type which made you blush, because you know your mom was setting this all up.

“Hello, welcome! I’m (Y/N), please come in,” as you move out of the way for them to enter, you couldn’t help to notice the slight blush on his face when he glanced at you. His mother is cooing at you at how beautiful you are and how much you look like your mother, to which you accept the compliment as you walk them to the living room where your mother sets up tea.

The two older women greet each other and they brush both you and the boy away to hang out. You blush a little and smile up at him. “Shall we go to my room, then?”

Suna couldn’t help feeling a little nervous. Being in a room alone with a girl, a pretty one especially? He tries to shake off his nerves, pausing the game to follow you to your room. You continue to ask him basic questions like his name and what school he goes to. Supposedly he goes to Inarizaki as a third year, same year as you but you’re in the neighboring school. 

When you two get to the bedroom, you can’t help to feel a little embarrassed around him. He’s just so tall and gives off such a bored vibe, that you feel like you’re bothering him, but maybe he was just shy. Suna is just leaning on the wall, eyes still on the psp - every once in a while he glances up back at you when you aren’t looking. He takes in your thighs and how the skirt flatters your shape, do you have anything underneath? He feels the crotch of his pants strain slightly, so he slides down the wall to sit on the ground.

“Do you want to sit on the bed, Rintarou-kun?” you tilt your head, looking at him on the ground. Wasn’t he uncomfortable sitting there? Your thoughts were shut down when he gave you a curt no and continued to play on his game. Brushing off your anxiety, you go to sit next him to look over at what he was playing. His body tensed up as your scent wafted over him, glancing down at you and your curious eyes boring at the screen.

“What are you playing? Is it fun?” Pestering him with questions to get him to talk, but he barely budges as he only gives you ever more shorter answers than the last. It wasn’t that he was annoyed that you were asking him questions, he’s just trying to hide his fluster since you’re just so close to him. Are you always this touchy with strangers? God you smell so good, it’s already hard enough to be in your room. What would happen if he just pushed your head down to his crotch?

His thoughts were cut off when you got off of the floor, leaving him confused to why you’re getting up. You just didn’t want to bother him anymore, so you go to your bed, rolling on your stomach to scroll through your phone. The silence was comfortable to you, the only noise happens to be from your phone and Suna’s console. But to Suna, the silence was deafening, as he had a clear view of the small silk fabric that barrel covered your ass. Not wanting you to catch him looking, he keeps his console on so you think he’s still busy with his game. 

He takes out his phone, making sure his shutter is off, and continues to take pictures of your cute little panties. Suna’s mind wandered to the thought of you under him with only those pairs on, presenting your beautiful body for only him. What would you do if he climbed on top of the bed, pinning you down as he had his way with you. Would you push him off or would you let him continue? There was no doubt you were attracted to him, he saw you blush earlier so you must’ve thought of him being attractive in some way. Would you flip your skirt up and present your cute cunt for him to breed you, taking him load after load, no matter how sensitive you get. You’d have to keep quiet though, wouldn’t want to alarm your mothers, would you? Suna knows his strength, being in the volleyball club for all three years of high school as well as his height giving him an advantage to dominate you. You would be so cute telling him to stop and slow down on your poor, cum-filled cunt, but you’d take it like a good girl. He could tell that you’re a people pleaser just by looking at you.

Before he could keep imagining, you shifting around startled him. His pants strain around his crotch even tighter and his cheeks tinted in a slight pink. 

“Restroom? Where is it?” Suna asks, shocking you out of your trance on your phone. You turn back to look back at him, smiling at him. “Down the hall, on the right, next to my room.”

He excuses himself, stuffing his phone and psp into his pockets as he makes his way to the bathroom. Shutting the door, he sighs at the relief of privacy and looks around the bathroom. This must be your bathroom. Your skin care products were strayed on the sink counter, shower and tub had floral shampoo which he assumed was the reason why you smelled so good. Besides the tub, against the wall was your hamper full of your worn clothes. He goes to open it and his eyes shine at the sight of a few used panties scattered around. He grabs a few and stuffs them in his pocket, keeping hold of the pink lacey ones and takes a hesitant sniff. If his cock could get any harder, it just did. Suna pulls his pants down to jerk off over the toilet as he sniffs your cute little lace. 

He thinks back to what he would’ve done to you earlier in the bedroom, thinking about you calling out his name so he could fill you up. You’d be such a good girl for him, let him use your cunt to breed and fill you up. His orgasm built up so fast at the thought of you, almost falling off the edge and muffling his moans into your panties.

“Rintarou-kun?” You call for his name right when streaks of white cum shoot into the toilet. He grunts and hides the moan, panting softling. “Y-yeah, I’ll be out soon.”

After cleaning up and making sure the panties are stuffed safely in his pocket, he opens the door to see your sweet, smiling face staring back at him. You definitely notice the blush, but you assume he was just shy around you. “Your mother was calling for you to go, do you want to exchange numbers or something?” A flush cover both of you as you ask the question. He nods and exchanges phones for you to type each other's number. 

After that, you two never really talk or text, only every once in a while. When the Spring High Tournament comes around, Suna hears his name being called by a familiar voice. He turns to see you, running to him and waving, wearing Karasuno gear and the skirt you wore the last time you saw him. 

“(Y-Y/N)?” Suna blushes, he definitely didn’t forget you after that one faithful day. His heart was racing and guilt rushed through his body, “What are you doing here? I don’t remember you going to Karasuno?”

“Y-yeah, uhh I’m cousins with the captain, had to come and support. Congratulations by the way!” Your giggle causes him to become speechless which made the twins snicker behind him.

[buckyownsmylife]

off to the races - harry styles smut

the one where harry was your boss and now that he’s not...

Warnings: former work relationship, harry is known for sleeping around in this one, reader finds it hot and likes it rough, sir kink, smut in general

A/N: okay, so I ended up diverging from the original request because technically, she’s no longer his assistant... but the idea of hierachy is right there! Also, I ended up changing the requested daddy kink for a slight sir kink - not usually one I particularly enjoy, but for this one, it just seemed right 🤷‍♀️

Harry’s P.O.V.

Such a pretty little thing. Been trying to get her in my bed for months, ever since she joined the company, but she swears she could never “sleep her way to the top”. I promised I wouldn’t promote her, she still didn’t budge.

I wasn’t greedy enough to fire her just to have her.

That’s why when the holiday celebration rolled around, I made sure to take her as my plus one, introduce her to Henry, praise her and talk her up. I knew his competitive streak would make him offer her a job. I knew she’d take it.

Because as much as she tried to deny it, she felt it too. That undeniable pull. That attraction that ran deeper than the physical, but was definitely dominated by it. And God, what wouldn’t I give to dominate her.

“Mr. Styles?” The way she tilted her head as she found me on the other side of her front door was way too fucking endearing. I could just eat her up whole. She was wearing a robe, I noticed - I knew it was late, perhaps maybe too late for a social visit, definitely too late for a social visit to a former employee, but I had planned this carefully.

“Forgive me for the time, you know how difficult it is to pry me away from work… And with you no longer there, I think this is going to become more and more common for me.” She nodded, adjusting the light tissue to make sure that it wouldn’t show more than she wanted - more than what was proper, but she bit her lip at the same time, her eyes running me over until they found what I was holding.

“Ah, yes, this is why I came. I have something to give you in celebration for your first day in a new company. May I come in?”At my question, she startled, jumping away from the door and motioning me in despite playing with her fingers after I was already there. I raised an eyebrow as I patiently waited and that seemed to snap her out of her reverie.

“Would you like to sit? I-I’ll get us some glasses.” I looked at the sofa but turned my attention back to her, widening my stance as I stood blocking her from the rest of my apartment. I knew I stood towering over her, but that was precisely my intention. I wanted to make her feel small, at least in the physical sense. The difference in our heights had always been one of the things that attracted me to her.

“I’d rather have something else to quench my thirst.” She knew what I meant. It was obvious, but especially for someone who knew me as well as she did. But I could see that she still held some hesitation, some reminiscence of the time when she wouldn’t do this.

So I upped my game.

“I can smell you dripping all the way from here,” I noted, grasping her by the waist so I could have her body as close to mine as possible. “And you don’t work for me anymore. So can I please, *please taste your pussy?”

The question made her shiver, and although she couldn’t meet my eyes, there was a nod. That was more than enough for me. So I held her by the back of her neck and pulled her up to meet my lips, while I fumbled with the silk covering her body until I could press my hand on her navel, wiggle my way between her legs.

“Fuck, darlin,’” I whispered as she desperately tried to catch her breath. “Have I always made you this wet? Did you have to struggle with this all day during work? Answer me.” My grip on her jaw tightened as my voice lowered, and although she gasped, I knew she was pleased with my dominance.

“Y-Yes, you made me wet all the time.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“I fucking knew it,” he whispered just before he caught my lips with hers again, swallowing down my moans and whimpers with a far too talented tongue that so easily made my knees weak. “It’s only fair, sweetheart. I was always pretty fucking hard for you.”

It was that confession, paired with two fingers that parted my lower lips for a thumb to find, that had me finally breaking out of my control from the pure need to have the man that held me so easily in his arms.

“I know.” I watched his eyebrows shot up as he was faced with the realization that all of those times he thought he was being so inconspicuous, only to call one of the random girls in the department to help him sort his “problem”, I was fully aware of the entire situation.

“You do?” There was a smirk in his lips now, replacing the surprised expression. It was clear that he liked it, he liked knowing you were aware of everything, including how hard he fucked your coworkers, now conscious that he was thinking of you the entire time.

“Hmh.” He looked about ready to devour you now, but just before he could, something made the predatory expression in his face fall, replaced by something soft instead. It made my head tilt to the side in curiosity, but he didn’t leave me hanging for long.

“You have to tell me if something is too much, okay?” His tone was so soothing, it was the only thing that stopped me from laughing at the silly preoccupation that had clearly decided to burden him out of the blue.

“Mr. Styles…” I ran my fingers over the lapels of his suit, hoping to give him the best sultry gaze I could muster while I whispered the words I’d been waiting to say for so long. “Do it like you always do. I’ve heard the other women you’ve fucked around the building. I want you to treat me just the same.”

I could tell he had stopped breathing, and when my fingers slowly inched under his work shirt to find his abs tense to the touch, he actually shivered. “I may not work for you anymore…” I stood on my tiptoes to say the last part of the sentence, making sure he knew that I meant every part of what I said. “But you can boss me around as much as you like.”

Before I could even comprehend what had happened, Harry had taken off my robe, stripping me and revealing my naked body to his hungry gaze. Then, he had me on the sofa, surprisingly not securing a spot by my side, but instead opting to remain standing, still fully dressed, towering over me.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs.” Despite the overwhelming desire that I felt to be absolutely and completely *ruined by the man before me, I was still inexperienced enough to feel somewhat self-conscious about following his order without any sort of hesitation. Thankfully, he didn’t hurry or seemed impatient as I slowly opened my legs and jutted my hips up, offering my most private part to him.

But perhaps I’d been too quick to judge, because as soon as I’d obeyed him, he knelt before me and pulled me down towards himself with a particularly harsh grip on my hips, until they were completely out of the couch.

“Put your legs on my shoulders.” That was all the warning I got before he delved right in to lick me, warm tongue suddenly everywhere as I wiggled under his hold. Immediately, I understood why every single woman he ever slept with was desperate to have another chance with him.

Harry’s P.O.V.

She was delicious. Sweet and creamy and everything I’ve always imagined when I licked into all of those other employee’s peaches. And fuck, every single sound that fell from her lips was just music to my quickly hardening cock. I wanted to bury myself in her, but first I needed to have her cum dripping from my chin. I needed her to cum for me.

So I raised one of my hands that had been otherwise occupied with her fantastic ass and slowly dragged a finger through the same lips I was licking, making her gasp and whine, much to my delight. “Do you think I can fit two in here?” I asked, already forcing two of my digits in. The moan she let out was downright pornographic, better than anything I’d ever heard before, and I just had to tease her.

“What? Does that feel good?” Skipping slow and gentle altogether, I started forcefully plowing my fingers while curving them inside her tight channel, all the while still licking around them and sucking on her little clit. In seconds, I had her cumming already, and I hummed in delight at the wave of her sweetness that invaded my mouth. “Delicious,” I commented when she finally stopped squirming, letting me pull away to bite on the inside of her thigh. “Could eat you all day.”

A whine was my sign that she would oppose to that project, and I had to laugh when she begged, “Please, just fuck me, sir. I need your cock in me.” Hearing her address me the same was as she did during work fucking *wrecked me. Never before had anyone done something similar - always too eager to try to fabricate a connection that just wasn’t there. And while there definitely *was something between us, hearing her address me like this, especially now that she didn’t have to, only made me even harder.

“I need it too, kitten.” My hands roamed all over her body, stopping on her breasts for a while to pull on her nipples before I finally managed to force myself away to work on my pants. And then I was easing myself into her, mouth open to release out-of-breath pants as I struggled to keep some semblance of control.

Y/N had thrown her arms over her face, covering it from my eyes, and I knew it was because she was suffering as much as I was to keep still while we both adjusted. Smiling, I captured her wrists to pry them away so I could see her again, before mocking, “Don’t be shy. I know you can take it.” 

She didn’t like that. She was determined to let me know just how eager she was to take every inch of me, and that much was obvious not only in the fire in the eyes, but also by the way she started to writhe underneath me.

Chuckling,  I gave into what we both wanted, starting to fuck her roughly and curling my hand over her neck, cutting off the air just enough to get her complicit once more. “I know, I know,  darlin’. I was only messing with ya.”

She clawed at my still clothed chest, holding onto my shirt as I filled her over and over again, paying attention to every little sound that escaped her beautiful lips. God, she was so fucking tight. And when I picked up the movements, fucking her rough and dirty, just like she told me she wanted, it didn’t take long at all to have her thrashing desperately, her orgasm reaching her like a freight train.

“You cummin’, sweetheart?” I asked, holding onto her neck a bit more tightly just to feel her pussy clench around me. At her answering groan, a stupidly satisfied smirk painted my lips, still incapable of believing this was actually happening. “Who’s fucking you this good? I’m gonna let you breathe, but only if you scream my name when I do. Do it. Fucking scream it.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I cried out his name as stars took over my sight. I had no doubt my neighbors heard it, but in that moment, it was impossible for me to care about anything other than the feeling of Harry’s cock as he brutally pounded me like he was trying to prove to himself that he hated me.

“Fuck, kitten. If you weren’t so adamant in keeping me away, I could have made you scream like that in the office, had everyone know you were milking my cock so good.” The thought of my coworkers hearing the sounds of our frantic fucking only served to leave me wetter, especially when his hand trailed down my body to find my clit engorged and throbbing for him.

“Just another one, darlin’,” he pleaded when I tried to wriggle away from him, too fucking overstimulated to take the added attention to my little bud. “Just wanna feel you cumming one last time, c’mon, milk my cum, cum with me.”

And so I did.

When his body fell down on the couch next to me, I looked down to see his cum dripping down my thighs, making me shiver as the realization of what we’d just done finally settled over me. I’d fucked my boss. I let Harry finally fuck me.

“Come here.” Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me on a warm lap before I could spiral even further down my madhouse of worries. “Just gimme a few minutes, huh?” My look of confusion must have been obvious, because upon looking at me he just chuckled, squeezing me tighter against his chest. “You didn’t seriously think I was done? I still want to fuck you, sweetheart. This hasn’t nearly helped fulfill my desire for you.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I resorted to remain cuddling my former boss, our legs entwined over my sofa as I listened to his heart beat right under my ear. I could get used to this.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Boys and sticks - Chapter 6

Sorry, I cannot stop writing this shit...

(Actually writing Chapter 10 right now)

Fandom: Hobbit (College AU)

Characters: @linasofia x Thorin, me x Ori

Words: 1,4 k

Warning: accidents and slight discomfort

I swallowed heavily.

“When I was much younger, yes.” Why would I deny what was true; he didn’t strike me as the judgemental type.

“Oh.” Ori said “oh” a lot, I found, and even in the darkness, I could imagine his sweet mouth puckered in that entirely kissable and adorably self-forgotten way. When I lifted my phone again though, his long fingers wrapped around my wrist gently and he murmured: “Let’s stay in the dark like that for a moment longer.”

My pulse quickened. All the things one wanted to do in the darkness were out of the question with someone like him and I hated the fact that I lacked Tova’s brazen self-assurance in these matters. Perhaps, he just wanted to deny me the sight of the burning blush sitting high on his cheeks like the midday sun illuminating the peaks and valleys of his face, which would have been outright cruel if he had known how much I loved seeing it.

His skin was still against mine and that rush of heat that everybody knew, and nobody talked about flashed through me; it was akin to the feeling of falling from a great height or of missing the last step of a staircase: an electric bubble of nothing flying from the pit of my stomach to my throat where it burst into sparks of pure light.

I wanted something to happen and yet, I was almost certain that it wouldn’t.

“Was it nice? Did you enjoy it?” His voice seemed much closer to me now, but I could not see him, and anyway, he had that way of blocking out everything else when he was around. Trying to pay attention to the professor with him within the range of 2 rows was near impossible sometimes, so I was used to this effect.

“I guess so.” Oh, it had been much too long and all the Thranduils in the world had not swayed me to give in to my baser needs and wishes. As Ceri had called it so callously, I was “hung up” on the very man standing a few steps away from me; just within reach and yet, miles away.

“So…are you seeing someone…in that way?” Did he read my thoughts? What was going on?

I laughed despite my deep despair. “Me? No, until the moon clashes into the sun and the oceans dry up, I fear I’ll be waiting for something that will – in all probability – never happen.”

Go to university, they said, it will be fun they said, you’ll have lots of sex, they said.

Nobody had warned me that I would develop a crush – right off the bat – on a bloke who seemed to only be aware of women when they were signified by the female pronouns on a page of paper.

With a groan, I turned to find the battered old couch standing next to the “popular novels”-section, hoping that Tova had more success tonight than me. “Where are you going?” He followed me effortlessly; God, we spent way too much time in the library if we could move through it without even seeing anything.

“I’ve promised not to return to the room tonight, so, I’ll sleep here,” I sighed, sinking into the cushions, and conjuring up a cloud of dust and dead skin that made me cough. “That is not safe,” he demurred.

His weight settled next to mine slowly. “You can…I mean…” He fell silent again.

A bony hip dug into my fleshy one as the dilapidated piece of furniture caved under the weight and made us slide into a hollow carved out by countless asses over the years. “Use your words, Ori!” I chuckled.

“You can sleep in my room?” He offered in a rush. “Yeah, sure, you have a game tomorrow. You need your sleep. I’ll be fine,” I replied, dismissing his valiant efforts of keeping me safe so the books wouldn’t gnaw on me while I slept.

“Then I’ll stay with you. I don’t want to leave you here,” He insisted, drawing up his legs under his chin – by the way the couch sagged even further – and curled into a ball.

“No, you’re not. You need your sleep.” I swallowed the “darling” that hovered on the tip of my tongue. “I’ll be okay. I’m not the most valuable player. Either way, we’ll suck. If I understood you correctly, Thorin will not sleep much tonight either and I’m almost sure that Dwalin is drunk by now.” He laughed.

It was a warm, melodious sound, like wind making the autumn leaves dance or like the gurgle of a brook deep within a forest; I might have heard nothing else for the rest of my life and never felt like I was missing out on the world.

“Or am I making you uncomfortable?” He suddenly exclaimed, scrabbling to get more distance between us which resulted in him sliding right back and slamming into my hip which made me topple sideways, my dress riding up and his hand landing square on my thigh as he tried to right himself.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” he moaned, pushing against the limb – it only pressed me further into the upholstery and did nothing to get him up – and trying desperately to get away from me. Classic Ori.

“It’s a leg, dude, you’ve got two of them.” I gave his thigh a squeeze to underline my words. Hell, all that running with sticks seemed to do wonders for the body, I thought hazily, unable to retract my own hand.

On the other end of the campus as told by Tova the next day

“So…erm…what do you want to do?” Thorin asked sheepishly, throwing doubtful glances at the two pretty beds – made perfectly – and obviously unsure if he was allowed to ruffle them by sitting down.

“Play cards.” Tova rolled her eyes. “Okay,” he agreed readily enough, and she was tempted to just knock his big, woolly head against the white plaster wall. “I don’t even have cards, Thorin,” she confessed between gritted teeth.

“Ah.” He rubbed his hands against the fabric of his jeans and looked around once more. “Is that…is that Ori’s poem?” He asked when his gaze fell on the beautiful piece of paper hung above Jia’s bed.

“It is. She’s terribly smitten with that dude, God knows why.” Tova laughed, biting her lip only a second later; she should not have said that. “Please don’t tell him if she has no chance, she’d never forgive me!” She gripped Thorin’s forearm pleadingly, her eyes imploring him to keep the secret.

“What? He wrote it for her, didn’t you know?” Thorin looked down on her in utter amazement.

“What?” Tova’s eyes were about to bulge out of her skull. “Surely not, he’s not…forthcoming,” she contradicted.

“He’s my friend, let me remind you, and I promise you that Dwalin recites it in his sleep sometimes so many times have we heard it before Ori even dared read it in class,” Thorin chuckled good-humouredly. “She didn’t catch that? Oh, well, he’s shy, that’s all. You seem very…self-possessed young women and…” His words ran out like a river in the middle of summer, drying up slowly in a symphony of dying notes.

“And what, Thorin?” Tova pressed, her eyes huge and enquiring as she looked up at him, her body so close to his now that she could feel his heat radiating into her naked thighs.

Again, he swallowed heavily, “And it’s hard to know if you’re playing games or…”

“Games?” Tova cocked her head; after all, she was not the one with the sticks and the balls. “Well, you promised me a dance, but it was cut cruelly short.” He laughed and she had to remind him that he had been the one to run away to get a new beer, not her.

She would not have minded staying in his arms for hours, the fresh smell of upper-shelf shower gel pervading the air between them and his soft smile raining light and sapphire dust onto her uptilted face. For a moment, she had thought that he would actually kiss her, but he had broken away at the pinnacle of tension, almost seeming embarrassed by the cloak of intimacy that had fallen around them.

“I liked dancing with you. It’s not that…” he murmured in a thick voice, laden with thoughts and emotions that didn’t quite make it to the surface but swirled within his eyes like smoke under water.

Putting on one of her favourite songs on her phone, Tova extended her hand to Thorin in invitation. “Alright then, let’s dance.”

[scrawnytreedemon]

Shit I’ve Been Winding Up For A Long Time Now But Am Very Aware Will Probably Hold No Relevance Should I Actually Go Into This More--

This is about Bhunivelze.

I.

You know, when I was chilling out, on my bed, that evening on that half term in early June, deciding to check up on ClementJ64′s FF retrospective because-- Hey! It’s been awhile, I wonder if he’s got around to doing the final bit of the FFXIII saga --You know, I was there, chilling, just for a laff. Just a laff.

The rest of that week was spent spiralling into a hyperfixation I absolutely did not anticipate in any way, shape, or form, because the way they introduced that character was “wwhdhfjjhHJDFJKHKJHW H A T??”

That retrospective and a good amount of wiki-scrounging is all I have as a basis for this. This is not a coherent character analysis-- Though I might tag it as that for ease of access. This is not, by any means, the thoughts of someone deeply familiar with FFXIII on the whole beyond plot synopses and overarching themes.

I don’t think I’m brave enough for that.

Reading the vast yet surface-deep lore on those wiki pages on my birthday while in a delirious state of mind was enough to make me somewhat nauseous.

Do you think I’m going to go through all of that in real time?

(Someday, someday.)

Ugh, I don’t know how to begin, but let us, I guess. I’d recommend you read this church-mime-demiurge’s FF Wiki page if you want the same level of base-knowledge I had, and maybe the aformentioned retrospective if you want the experience, because I don’t think I have the wherewithal to get into all of that from the bottom-up.

I am also, so, so fucking sorry for any remaining FFXIII fans in advance. There is like, a good chance I may be butchering the characterisation completely, so bear with me here.

With that... we begin?

Where do we even start with this guy?

How on earth to you begin to explain the absolute monolith you’ve constructed from crumbs of a Guy, some material no doubt spliced in from the Pale King, Sephiroth, y o u r  o w n  G o d  O C and other characters, and the mountains of religious trauma you carry around at all times that is probably the only reason you’ve been able to latch on as hard as you did?

I’m going to try.

What gets me, in summary, about Bhunivelze is how he’s a prime example of how love and concern can become deadly forces if in the wrong hands. His first acquainting with human emotion was by deceiving and possessing Hope, reverting his body to a teenage state, and planning to live among humanity through him. He sees human sorrow and suffering, and decides that, to End This(because it must be ended, you see) he’s going to destroy all the souls of the deceased that make up the Chaos that’s been eating this world for the past five-hundred years so they all forget and Are Happy. :).

Capital G God here hasn’t been present for the vast part of human history because he’s hidden himself away from Everything due to paranoia from killing his own mother and throwing her body into the Cosmic Basement, THEN creating the beings that would come to create humanity and OTHER beings because he didn’t have the keys to the cosmic basement. And also he believes death is a thing because she’d’ve somehow cursed all things to pass(including him) out of Spite.

Which explains why he’s so fucking averse to it and anything to do with it.

Bhunivelze, to put it lightly, is Shit at stepping into others’ shoes and Getting their experiences-- All the FalCie in FFXIII are, but him especially. It’s clear(again, in the f u c k i n g JP--) that he makes attempts to sympathise with them and does what he can to help, but it’s with such a loftiness and a complete inability to Understand why anyone would want grief, The Worst Fucking Experience In Existence, and even less why they’d be willing to Go Up Against Him And HisThe New Perfect World just for it-- And what would it matter, anyway, forgetting their loved ones. It’s not like you can grieve lost memories, right?

Right.

It reminds me of when at the end of the story of Job in the Bible, where, after putting this man through hell on earth, God rewards Job by giving him ten new children to make up for the ones that he lost. I. And that’s fucked! Nothing can replace the sheer uniqueness of each individual person you loved so dearly! But if you were a nigh-omnipotent deity high and mighty, with a cursory, almost mechanical knowledge on the functionings of the human psyche, that would seem adequete; enough.

Bhunivelze is doing that on a cosmic level.

I now want to get onto the romance: that being, his affections for Lightning. I don’t know how much I’m going to say, but it’ll probably be alot. It’s something that hits very close to home.

There is this... thing, within certain branches of Christianity, perhaps even in those of various Abrahamic faiths, where God’s love is posited to be the love-- The ultimate, most-fulfilling, all-encompassing love you could ever imagine --Because, well, he is love, so the story goes, and so often the best way to convey that is through the imagery of...

Marriage.

Giving up yourself so completely, to serve, to be the Bride; to be bound by him for all eternity; and for there to be no higher bliss than this.

This angle is pushed on young girls and women the most; from the mere parallels to the woman’s role in marriage, all the way down to downright-horrifying ultra-Evangelical purity pacts. With men, God is your dad, your best bud and confidant, your boss, your king, your this, your that, and the ‘marriage‘ as it were is relegated to a sort of half-thought; a metaphor.

For me, God was an attempt at all that, and my arranged groom.

(It was almost incestuous; was incestuous, that my own Divine Father would reach for my hand in marriage.)

Bhunivelze experiences Emotions™ for the first time through Hope, experiences Hope’s sheer overwhelming admiration for Lighting(whether there were any baby-crush feelings mixed in, I can’t say), and promptly falls into a nigh-romantic obsession with Lightning, deciding that she will be Etro(his all-but daughter)’s replacement, will be his Goddess of Death to-be-- He even calls her as such, before the final boss-battle--

...In the JP.

What happened in localisation, probably due to a number of factors, all the way back in early 2014, was that everything emotionally challenging about Bhunivelze was scraped off, like it was extra fat, and tossed aside, leaving us with the bland, clichéd shell of a foe-god we’ve seen time and time again. And I mean everything. I mean his very love for humanity; the fact his ploy was, in his eyes, to save them. Because if they’d left that all on, then it would raise the question of even if there was such a seemingly pure, all-knowing, loving being hell-bent on setting things “straight,“ would they truly be unquestionable? Would we have the right to fight for our humanity in the face of the Creator of the Universe?

To reject a love so personal?

That’s what gets me about FFXIII’s tackling of God, no matter how hackneyed and poorly-executed. It’s personal.

It’s from a feminine experience.

I know that terming is... vague, and problematic, but the way Christianity and much of the video game industry handle femininity itself is weird and problematic, so as it stands, I’ll have to simplify it. Apologies.

What sets FFXIII’s Let’s Kill God™ plot aside from most JRPG Let’s Kill God™ plots is that with our protagonist being a woman, and one who is very in touch with her femininity alongside her sheer strength; often, in these stories, God is reduced to Yet Another Foe, expected or unexpected, and you are tasked with taking him down unquestioningly for the Good of Mankind-- You will fight God, because you are right to, and you will go man-to-man-to-however-many-men you decide to bring along for the bloodbath.

And that just, doesn’t speak to me.

Even as an Extian.

Especially as an Extian. And an AFAB one with a deeply complicated experience with my gender, at that.

Leaving Christianity was painful. Questioning God was painful. Coming to terms with the fact that I had been mentally, emotionally, and spiritually traumatised under the guise of All-Encompassing Love was so, so fucking painful. I had been taught since I was five years old to devote myself to him, spent my life desperate to feel something, anything, to stay connected because I just, I never could Feel It on a deeper level, never could Give Up Myself, all I was, couldn’t Die A Spiritual Death And Be Reborn As His Eager Vessel, thus deeming myself to be worthless and a broken vessel for years and years on end... And for all that to have been... Nothing.

Lightning is hollowed out, the shards of her dead sister ripped from her in-stasis, leaving her emotionally numb for the majority of the game, Bhunivelze sweeps it under the rug, pretends he’ll perform a miracle and return Serah to life in exchange for her compliance, then sends her on her way to do his work, all the while knowing he’s going to pull said-rug from under her and elevate her such dizzying heights in the aftermath--

That he’ll deny her humanity.

Sand down all the rough edges that make her her, and polish her up afterwards, gild her as he is gilded, make her a Goddess.

And he’ll do it all because he loves her.

You can’t fight God like you can everything else. To fight It is the fight Existence Itself; FFXIII even conveys that by making Bhunivelze’s model part of the arena; it’s baked into the fabric of the game, no matter how minute.

While Lightning Returns is far from perfect in its execution of this concept, and that in itself makes me wince, not even taking into account the horribly botched excuse for a localisation Bhunivelze endured, it speaks to me more than anything else I’ve seen so far.

And it’s helped uncover some things within me. Helped me untangle them, just a little more.

So, yeah. I have alot of Thoughts on Bhunivelze, I want to share them, and I’m kinda really sad I have no one but my currently-absent friend Vee to share them with. I could get into alot more, like his very Fucked relationship with familial bonds, and how Lightning’s role as saviour so deeply parallels the overwhelming panic and never-ending guilt of Evangelical proselytisation, but I think I’ll leave those for another time.

In short, Bhunivelze is the epitome of Divine Love gone deeply wrong; on all fronts.

And if all of that isn’t enough to intrigue you, then, in Vee’s words, Lightning and Velze are literally canon endgame Sefikura lmaOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--

[the-piece-of-spadille]

Eustass Kid | Sorrow

Pairing: Eustass Kid x female reader

Notes: Mentions of death, and injuries.

Word Count: 2k

Killer was the first to hear the dreadful news, he was making his way down the street to the local bar where he was to meet back up with Kid. He heard a hushed conversation between two gentlemen and at first, he thought it was just another made up rumor. There’s simply no way that the Raven Pirates were dead. Their captain, (Y/n), is apart of the Worst Generation and has proven many times over, that she’s worthy of that title not only to the government but especially to Eustass and his crew.

It wasn’t until one of the men spoke about a fight that involved two Admirals that made the Killer’s blood run cold. He remained hidden and waited for any possible truth in the conversation. The names Aokiji and Kizaru came up a few times and that was enough for Killer to grab both men and drag them to his Captain. He knew, in the pit of his stomach he knew that something happened. If any part of the rumor turns out to be true, his captain is going to want blood and so will the rest of the crew. One simply doesn’t harm Kid’s beloved. 

The Kid Pirates soon found themselves sailing off to a winter island in the New World. Kid and Killer were able to get more information from the two men at the market before Kid destroyed the town in a furious rage. There was suspicion about an informant that tipped off the location of the Raven’s to the Government. A fight had already broken out between Pirates and Marines before the Admirals made it to the island. It was an easy win for the pirates until the Admirals showed. They don’t have the details, but the fight took a gruesome turn and many pirates lost their lives. No report has been made yet by the Government, at least not publicly. Which in turn means no record of who’s alive or dead.

Kid always said that he would be the one to kill them someday. (Y/n), the captain, got under his skin like no other. They both live bold and fearless lives and often they came into contact on the seas as enemies. That was before the incident with the Red Hair Pirates. 

It was (Y/n) who managed to keep Kid alive after losing his arm. She allowed him and his crew to recover on a winter island that the Raven’s use as a second home. It was then the relationship between the two captains began to shift. She would often check on the man, get him anything he needed, and most importantly, told him not to stop chasing after what he wants most.

It became evident that previous and new threats held no real weight to them. They still fought like cats and dogs, but it was different. The crewmates on either side saw what was forming between them and knew it was going to be a long road ahead before either side could truly rest. It turned into a long and agonizing game of who would fall victim to their feelings first. 

Ultimately (Y/n) was the first to fall, she grew tired of all the pent-up emotions and grabbed Kid by his signature coat and pulled him down to her height and kissed him. It stroked Kid’s ever-growing ego that he did not give in first and he paraded around the island as if he found the One Piece for weeks. With the warm memory in thought, he breaths a heavy sigh as he watches the passing sea. “You’re fine… you have to be.”

Starring out at the vast number of graves of the fallen crewmember, (Y/n) stood in the middle of a snowstorm. It’s been a total of three days since the lost of her crew. All but two members perished by the hands of the Admirals. It took two days to make it to their island and another to bury and lay them to rest, but she promised them she’d bring them back home.  “Please Captain (Y/n.) You need to warm up and rest. It won’t do you any good if you freeze to death out there” the voice yelled across the field of snow. Instantly whipping her head around, glaring at the last remaining crewmate.  

The words “freeze to death” played over and over in the captain’s head. That’s exactly what Aokiji did. He froze them to death while Kizaru pinned (Y/n) to the ground and made her watch as the other shattered her crewmates into pieces. Tears roll down her redden checks as she looks over at the graves for the last time tonight and whispers a “goodnight.” 

(Y/n) makes the slow tread back towards the warmth of the building. The injuries and cold catching up to her. “Sorry about the choice of words Captain, you need to rest. You’re heavily injured and you shouldn’t be out in that storm in your condition.” Avisa, the youngest and newest member of the crew being only eighteen, covers her captain with her own coat and holds the door open. Avisa was incredibly lucky to be mostly unharmed after what they went through. “We should probably change your bandages and disinfect them again… has your eyesight changed?”

(Y/n) groans from shifting the coat open and revealing the endless bandages wrapped around her body. “It’s… it’s as good as it’s going to get, I’m afraid. I lost about half the sight in my left eye.” The young girl shifts around, grabbing more bandages and disinfectant before settling in front of the captain and unpeeling the dirty bandages from the wounds earning a whimper of pain.

“Wait, before you start with the disinfecting, I could use a drink.” 

“Sure thing Captain, I’ll go fetch you some water.” Just as the girl began to move a loud boisterous laughter bounces around the walls of the otherwise quiet room. The two women jump from their seated positions at the voice of a man. “She means booze girlie” the voice snickers. (Y/n) pushes the girl behind her and does her best to seem threating but it’s proving to be hard in her state. This nearly makes the man laugh again but he gets a glance at the wounds scattered across her body. 

The outside lighting does little to show who’s at the door and it wasn’t until the man spoke again that (Y/n) recognized who was there. “Take it easy doll” Kid spoke, hand in the air stepping inside. “Kid” her voice wavers. Taking a few steps towards him but stops and clutches her side in pain. His smile falters as he crosses the room to grab her and keep her upright. 

He’s familiar with the layout and takes her to a bed in the closest bedroom. “Sit before you bleed all over the floor.” He walks out the room to motions for the rest of his crew to come inside. Killer follows his captain back into the bedroom to inspect (Y/n’s) wounds. Avisa, with a bottle of opened booze sitting on the table, had already unwrapped her wounds and had proceeded to disinfect her wounds.

There’s deep bruising along her ribs on the right, followed by three holes no doubt left by Kizaru, scatter over her torso. The worse being on her left shoulder. Kid grabs the bottle on the table and takes a generous swing before offering her more. “I did my best to stitch the wounds with what we had, I’m pretty sure her ribs are broken. She was…” the young girl had to stop keep herself from crying. Killer, as gentle as he could muster, touched the swollen and bruised area earning a sharp intake of air followed by a cry of pain. 

“I’d say three are broken and the rest are just bruised. What did you use for stitches? I see a few places that need to be touched up.” The masked man turns away from (Y/n) to talk to Avisa. “Horsehair. There’s a small ranch not too far from here.” He nods in thought, “we’re going to need more.” The pair leave the room to go retrieve more supplies and to fill in the rest of Kid’s crew on her condition.

Kid looks around for something to cover her body and he spots (Y/n’s) coat, or rather what’s left of it. It was a beautiful thick, long coat, jet black in color, and made of raven feathers, now it’s barely recognizable. It’s a lot smaller in length now from being ripped. More feathers decorate the floor than the actual fabric. It also mirrors the holes littered in (Y/n). It was a gift to her from him. “Say something please.” 

Kid looks over with an unreadable expression and shrugs off his coat and walks over. His hand traces over the new scars and wounds that littered across her. He pays extra care to the open wounds before his amber eyes meet hers. He brushes the hair out of her face to get a better look. Half of her left eye is clouded over with a faint scar to go with it. He knows now isn’t the time to get angry, but all he wants to do is tear the bastards heads off for hurting her. He can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like to lose her crew on top of everything. 

He takes a deep breath, something she has told him numerous times to do, and thinks back to what she said to him when he was in a similar situation. “It uh… adds character.” (Y/n) laughs until she feels the pain in her ribs. Kid scowls at her before dropping himself on the bed and his coat on her to cover her up. “Thank you for trying to cheer me up.” He makes a “tsk” sound before telling her to shut up. She grabs his hand and plays with his fingers to calm her nerves. “It was planned.” 

“What?” 

“It was Scratchmen Apoo who told the Admirals where we were headed. Had to be. He was trailing us for a couple days and when the Marines spotted us, they let him go.” A stray tear falls down her cheek before she can wipe it away. “We we’re cornered into an island, so we abandoned ship for the time being and fought. We were fine until those bastards showed. They started to take us down one by one. Kizaru trapped me underneath him and held me in place. Made me watch.” Kid wiped away her flowing tears and placed a long kiss to her hair. He’s never wanted to hurt someone so bad in his entire life. Forcing her to watch. “It was Avisa who saved me. And to think I almost didn’t let her join… she shot them with sea stone bullets.”

The anger rolling from Eustass can probably be felt in the next room. He recently formed an alliance with Apoo and was already having his own issues with the man. This is the final piece straw that broke the camels back. Kid knows he can’t be trusted, and he need to be brought to an end. “I’ll make them all pay!” 

Kid jumps up ready to storm out and take his frustrations out on whatever he can get ahold of but (Y/n) speaks up just as he’s at the door frame. “I want to be apart of taking them down. I need to. For the sake of my crew.” Kid turns around and stomps into your direction and places a heated kiss on your lips. 

“Hurry up and get better, because your sailing with me.”  

[halfway-happyyy]

She’s My Kind Of Girl

AN: this started as an idea of the lovely @bskarsgardlove92‘s and i kind of just rolled with it! i hope you enjoy, and as always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated! 

synopsis: Alex dresses in drag to attend a costume party with his girl, as one half of Swedish superband, ABBA! Absolute fluff ensues!

“Though you may hail from a long and distinguished line of inexplicably talented thespians, I know you well enough by now to recognize when you're not telling me something.”

Alexander passed a serviette over the front of his mouth and swallowed back a bite of salmon, cocking an eyebrow in amusement. “I beg your pardon?”

She sipped deeply from her glass of chilled wine, and cocked her head to the side, eyeing him. “Don’t play coy with me, Alex. You were on the line with Eija when I came into the kitchen. That glint in your eyes says so much and then nothing at all in equal measure.”

“One could almost say that you know me too well, kid.”

"Almost," She grinned around the delicate rim of her glass. “Now spill it, Skarsgård.”

Alexander leaned back against the oak chair, dangling a long arm over the back of it. “Dad’s seventieth birthday is next month. Eija’s hosting a party back home for him, and she wants us to be there.”

She thought fondly of Alexander’s father often; he had been one of the first faces of his family that she’d had the privilege of meeting when her and Alexander had started taking things a little more seriously. Where her own father figure had been virtually non-existent most of the time, she was blessed to have such a wonderful father-in-law in Stellan. He was such an integral part of their lives that the thought of not returning home to Sweden to celebrate him was almost too much to bear.

“I’ll look into flights tomorrow morning. What kind of get together is it? I would imagine knowing Eija as I do, that she's got something wonderful up her sleeve?”

Alexander's lips curved up into a devilish smirk and he cocked his head to the side.

“She's hosting a costume party.”

There it was…

“God, I can only imagine the ideas that beautiful mind of yours has already dreamed up.”

Alexander tipped the rest of his wine into his mouth, his blue eyes glittering mischievously in the low light from the dining room lamp. “Hm, you know how much dad loves ABBA…”

It was the precise tone of his voice that she reckoned prepared her for what was coming next. “Oh boy,” She giggled under her breath.

“Well, I propose that we go as Björn and Agnetha.”

She mulled the thought of it over in her head, and then an idea swam into her mind's eye that caused a smirk similar to her other half's to tug the edges of her lips skyward. “I'll do it on one condition, my love.”

His eyebrow lifted in intrigue. “I'm all ears.”

“I will do it if I can be the Björn to your Agnetha.”

His laughter- utterly loud and booming, filled every square space of their home with a warm and joyous sound. When it subsided, he leveled his gaze with hers and she noticed immediately, the blush that had risen to the apples his cheeks. After a moment, he nodded his head finitely. “You've got yourself a deal, kid.”

*

She glanced at the watch face beneath the bell sleeve of her silver, sequined blouse, and sighed heavily. “C'mon dancing queen, we haven’t got all night…” Alexander emerged from the bathroom door a moment later, a blonde, perfectly styled wig fell below the cups of a filled-out bra.

“I must say,” He reached toward her to tousle the brunette wig atop of her head, a smirk in place on his features. “Silver and forest green sequins do wonders for you, kid. Or should I say- Björn.”

“Oh hush,” She giggled. “I can hardly imagine the outfit you’ve conjured up for this evening." They gazed at each other in silence for a moment before she gestured to her vanity. "Shall I do your makeup?”

Alexander shifted from foot to foot. “If you wouldn't mind,” He murmured.

She stood on tiptoes to twirl strands of blonde hair around her finger. “It would be an honour, Agnetha.”

She followed Alexander to the vanity next to their bay window and turned on the lamp so that it illuminated his face perfectly. Pulling up a photo of Agnetha on her phone for reference, she set to work. “She sometimes likes to wear bold colours on her eyes, so that’s the look we’re going for this evening.” She started the process by moisturizing and priming his face, opting out of a foundation, and using a tinted moisturizer instead. “Alright, close your eyes for me, my love.” He did as he was told, and she allowed herself a moment to admire how breathtaking he truly was. After a couple of seconds of searching, she found a palette that was made up of different shades of purple and applied a muted lavender hue over both of his lids. Wanting to go a little darker, she blended a violet shade into his creases and stood back to admire her handiwork. Nearly done, she decided to go dramatic on the eyeliner, but when she reached for her favourite tube of mascara, Alexander faltered.

“I don’t need… falsies?”

She blanched. “Alex, I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but your natural eyelashes are beautiful,” She took his face in her hands and gently turned it to the side, gesturing to his left eye. “Look how long and healthy they are. I think I have some cheap lashes lying around somewhere if you really want them, but I think a few coats of mascara will do wonderfully.”

He reached up to press his lips to the underside of her jaw, shaking his head. “No, I trust you.”

She kissed the tip of his nose and got back to work. “You’ve done magnificent so far. I’m just about finished…” She glanced around for her mauve pink lipstick, held a hand beneath his chin and applied the colour to his lips. “Alright, rub your lips together for me please.” She watched him do as she asked. “Now pat them together, as if you were smacking them.” She waited. “Alright, for the finishing touch,” She reached for her bottle of setting spray, told him to close his eyes, and let the mist settle over his face. “You my love, are finished and ready for the evening.

He leaned forward to inspect her handiwork closely, and a large smile grew on his face. “You’ve done a wonderful job, kid.”

She nodded towards the washroom door. “Go on then, Chiquitita. The party awaits.”

“You and your ABBA puns, huh?” Alexander smirked, before closing the door behind him.

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just wait until your brothers get a hold of us.” She snickered. While she waited for Alexander to wrap up, she began lacing up the white platform boots she had found weeks ago. They added an extra four inches to her height, and she fought back a giggle as she sipped the last remnants of her pre-game cocktail.

Ten minutes elapsed, and she began to feel the familiar tug of inebriation deep in her belly. Suddenly, Alexander cleared his throat. “I’m coming out. Are you ready?”

“I’ve literally never been more ready in my life.” She deadpanned.

Alexander emerged from the washroom, and all she could do was gape at his figure as he stood poised in the doorway. Lord knows where, but he had managed to find a hot pink jumpsuit with a silver-sequined trim around the neckline and a heart-shaped cutout that showed off his adorable, trim bellybutton perfectly. He donned glossy, white boots on his feet that only added to his seemingly immense height. “Well, what do you think?” He asked, dubiously.

She swallowed hard. “I have lots of feelings about it actually… but our car is here, and your father awaits.” She held her arm out for him to take. “Shall we go, my beautiful Agnetha?”

Alexander accepted her arm gratefully and bent down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Lead the way, Björn.”

“What are your brothers going as?” She asked, as they slid into the backseat of the sedan.

“Uh, I think Bill and his family said that they were going as Disney characters. Gustaf and Valter are going as Top Gun’s Maverick and Goose, respectively,” He paused so that they could share a laugh at that. “And I’m not sure yet what Sam and his family are doing.”

She scratched contemptuously at the back of her head. “I hate this wig already.”

Alexander snorted into his drink. “But it looks so good on you… the way it kind of frames your face in that ‘the 70’s called and they want their hair back’ kind of way…”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s the heart-shaped bellybutton window for me.”

Alexander guffawed loudly. “Oh really? We're playing that game? Well then, it’s the extra four or five inches that you’re wearing but you still don’t reach past my sternum, for me.”

They rounded the corner to Stellan’s street, and laughter bubbled up out of her mouth like a song. “It’s the fact that you look better than most women I know, for me.” This sent Alexander into such a frenzy that she paid the driver herself. “Alright, Agnetha, I have a dream and it involves you exiting this vehicle tonight,” She nudged his back to get him out of the open car door. “Let's go, girlfriend.” They ambled up the pathway hand-in-hand and stood giggling in front of Stellan’s door. Roaring laughter and bits and pieces of broken Swedish and English conversation could be heard from inside as her finger hovered above the doorbell. “You ready?”

Alexander nodded, finitely. “Go on then,”

She rang the bell and waited for what felt like years, before the door flung open and Eija greeted them in a demure, feline costume. Her face was disbelieving at first, but then her painted-on whiskers twitched; she cracked and laughter roared from her belly in happy waves. When she could speak again, she shook her head gleefully. “Come in, come in you two. What an honour to have one half of the world’s greatest band with us!” She ushered them into Stellan’s lively home, the scent of a freshly-cooked feast hung tantalizing in the air, and made her mouth water hungrily. “Just wait until papa sees you!” She clapped her hands merrily, pulling them into the adjacent living room.

Their entrance caused mass hysteria; pure laugher on a level that was hard to fathom. Gustaf approached them first, a pair of sunglasses sat perched atop his head, and he was sporting a mustache. Clad in a pair of army-green coveralls, the badge on his chest simply read, ‘Gus.’ “I have to say that when Alex first told me what the two of you were planning, this was not what I had in mind…” He scratched absentmindedly at the bridge of his nose, his smile wry. “But you two absolutely knocked it out of the park. Well done, brother.” He belly laughed, and wrapped an arm around Alex’s shoulders, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I can’t wait until dad sees you.”

Valter appeared before them next, clad in the exact same costume as Gustaf accept that his badge read, ‘Maverick’, and he had on over his blue eyes, a pair of mirrored Rayban aviators. “Mamma Mia, Agnetha! Such lovely bosoms you have!”

A hand appeared out of the abyss and sneaked its way toward Alexander’s ample breasts, but the younger Skarsgård's plan was foiled before he could get there with Alexander slapping it away just in the nick of time. “Touch them and die, Valter.” He beamed, devilishly.

Valter's grin was sheepish. “My apologies Agnetha- Björn.”

She tossed a wink his way. “Turns out she can take care of herself just fine.”

“Alright, alright, where are they?” Stellan’s achingly familiar voice- unmistakable anywhere, boomed throughout the room. When he caught sight of them, he stood stock-still and tilted his head back, his rolling laughter loud and genuine. It caused pleasant goosebumps to rise in waves over her arms, and she couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “This is it,” He announced. “I couldn’t dare to ask for another thing after this. My eldest boy and his love coming in drag as Agnetha and Björn? This is seventy, folks!” He closed the distance between them to wrap them both in a crushing bear hug. When he pulled away, his eyes were glittering brightly beneath the low light of the many lamps scattered around the living room. “How unbelievably wonderful it is to see you both here.” He kissed both of their cheeks over again, his smile wide and utterly contagious. “On a totally unrelated note- that you and Björn here have similar situations happening… ehm, up top, is really quite miraculous, isn’t it?”

Alexander rolled his azure eyes, laughing loudly at that. “Happy birthday, dad.”

“And what a wonderful birthday it turned out to be. Come, come. We have much to discuss.”

The night carried on in much the same fashion; drinks were had (and spilt), laughter was shared, pictures were taken- and all the while, she just felt unimaginably blessed to be a part of it all. Closer towards the evening’s finish, she felt Alexander’s hand tighten around her own, and she knew then, without a shadow of a doubt that this was her family. This was where she belonged.

[ijustwant2write]

You'll Outlive Her-Thorin Oakenshield x Reader x Company

(GIF credit to @riepu10​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘hiii. a thorin x the company x fem!reader (21 years old). the reader tells the company about humans’ short life span (75-85 years old) and they freak out telling her they’re going to protect her and all that. very fluffy please & thank you!!’

Characters: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader (platonic), Bilbo Baggins x Reader (platonic), all of the company x Reader (platonic), Gandalf x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mentions of death, but a majority is fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N) could feel how sore her body was as the company continued riding, having done so for a whole day already. They had travelled far today, making good process. She had never imagined herself on a quest such as this, especially with dwarves. Although she was a human, (Y/N) had been surprisingly welcomed to the company, but not without slight disdain from Thorin; she could understand his feelings, she was not of their kind, she didn’t know what it was like to lose a home like that. Gandalf had recruited her (and she was a vast contrast to Bilbo) because of her skills in fighting, and the fact that her family had been nomads helped with journeys such as this.

The dwarves were kind to her. There had been no prejudice against her being a woman, and she had learnt that a lot of their women were fierce like her, it was a dwarfish custom. It was easy to joke with them, there had been banter amongst the group about Bilbo when he joined, and once he loosened up, he could be fun at times too. Naturally, the other thing that separated (Y/N) from the company (excluding Gandalf), was her height. (Y/N) wasn’t a tall girl per say, but the men were all smaller than her, giving (Y/N) the upper hand when they started teasing her about something; it always shut them up.

“I spy with my little eye...” Ori called out, followed by a round of groans from everyone else.

“Do you not tire of this game?” Bofur moaned.

“There’s nothing else to do!”

“We’re on a quest lad, what did you think we would be doing?”

“Go on, Ori,” (Y/N) smirked, knowing that it would annoy everyone else,“what do you see?”

“OK, I spy with my little eye, something beginning with...G!”

“Is it grass?”

When he didn’t reply, she looked back over my shoulder, giggling when she saw his head hanging low.“Don’t worry Ori, there’s not a lot to spot out here.”

Ori smiled slightly, mesmerised by (Y/N)’s own smile before she faced the front again. Dori noticed his brother’s blushing cheeks, leaning over as much as he could whilst staying on his pony.

“Stop that! She’s a human, you’re a dwarf.” he simply said.

“I wasn’t thinking of anything!” Ori defended himself.

The sounds around them were peaceful, it brought tranquility to their minds. They were riding through a forest, the gentle wind making the leaves above them rustle, the occasional chirping of birds joined, and the horses hooves were muffled against the worn out path they were riding on. Despite the company being relatively calm, (Y/N) noticed Bilbo’s expression, and how silent he had been. 

“Are you alright, Bilbo?” (Y/N) asked, her voice quieter.

“Hm?” he had been broken out of a trance.“Oh, um, yes, yes, um, I’m fine.”

She sadly smiled at him.“You’re missing home, aren’t you?”

He sighed.“A little. It would have been the easy choice to stay at home and carry on doing the same thing everyday. But something made me choose to accompany Thorin on his quest. And I hope I made the right choice.”

“You’ll figure that out for yourself, soon enough.”

“We need to find somewhere to sleep for the night.” Thorin announced.“Everyone be on the lookout for a good place to shelter.”

Once they had found a safe enough place to stay, the company began dismounting their ponies/horses, and setting up their camp. Food was being prepared, makeshift beds were being made, and those sent out to patrol the area had already left. They were situated in a tiny clearing in the woods, with enough trees and bushes to conceal them. The fire was lit, and everyone instinctively huddled closer, feeling the chill that the evening brought as the sun set. 

(Y/N) thanked Nori as he handed her a bowl of stew, and she sat on her bed, pulling a blanket tighter around her. The bowl provided more heat to her cold hands, the smell of food causing her stomach to rumble loudly. As she ate, she glanced around, smiling at the sight. These men were so determined to complete this quest, it made her feel motivated to help them. She thought back to one of the first nights they all had together, when Balin had recited the story of how the leader of the company became Thorin Oakenshield. (Y/N) had never met someone with a royal background, but had heard that they were snobs, and turned up their nose at anyone they deemed less than them. Despite Thorin’s first impression, (Y/N) had a feeling it wasn’t him. For someone to be like that, they would have had to have gone through something traumatic; she knew his story now, and it made him seem stronger, powerful, a true leader.

“Where’s Thorin?” (Y/N) asked Bombur who was sat beside her.

He shrugged before diving into his bowl. She scoffed a laugh, shaking her head as she finished off her own meal. Her eyes scanned around the camp, subconsciously counting the dwarves, making sure they were all there. Fili and Kili had just come back from patrol, almost racing towards the food as they reported that they hadn’t seen anything. (Y/N) almost wanted to ask if they knew where Thorin was, but didn’t.

“You know what,” Bofur said, getting everyone’s attention,“we still don’t know that much about you (Y/N).”

“Well, I suppose I have heard everything I can about all of you. What is it that you wish to know?”

“Where were you born? What were you like growing up? Why did you like to fight?”

(Y/N) laughed as he continued asking questions.“You know, come to think of it, I’ve lived a pretty simple life up until now.”

“A simple life? Really?” Balin said.

“Yes. I actually don’t know where I was born. My family never stayed in one place, they were completely free spirits, and when mother gave birth to me, we were travelling in the back of a caravan, with my father helping her, and my auntie and uncle riding up front. So they never really knew where we were when I was born."

There were a few chuckles from the group. She grinned and continued.

"All my family taught me how to fight, each of them with a specific skill. They said it was to keep me safe, that if we all knew how to fight, we could defend each other. Not that anything actually happened."

"Have you ever been in a fight?" Kili asked.

"Yes, a few times, but I was never the one to start them. I was always looking out for someone."

"That seems very like you lass." Bofur added.

"Although I was travelling, I haven't seen a lot in my life. We circled sometimes, meeting up with old friends. But as I myself grew older, I noticed how my parents didn't want to move as much. They rested more frequently. And I realised that I was the one in my prime, I was the one who had to be the leader. And I guess...I guess when I became the only one left of my family, I seeked new adventures. Something that would make them proud."

"How old were they? When they died?" Bilbo was careful how he said it.

"Hm, they all must have been in their eighties. I think father reached ninety-four actually!"

Everyone's eyes were wide, mouths agape as they stared at her. She felt uncomfortable with the attention, wondering why they all looked so shocked.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"You poor thing." Nori breathed out.

"Th-thank you?"

"Losing your parents at such a young age...If you don't mind me asking, was it natural or...?" Dori said.

"Yes, it was natural. They were healthy for the most age. Old age caught up to them. Why is everyone looking at me like that?"

"My dear friends," Gandalf spoke up, smoking from his pipe,"you must understand that unfortunately humans have a much shorter lifespan that dwarves do."

"So, how old do you live to?" Fili asked.

(Y/N) thought for a moment."Usually eighty to ninety years old if you're healthy. I have heard of some people miraculously living to the age of one hundred!"

The company shared a concerned look with each other, worrying (Y/N). Why was this such a big deal?

"Do you know how long dwarves live for?" Thorin suddenly appeared, making everyone whip their heads towards him.

(Y/N) nodded."You can live up to two hundred and fifty years old, sometimes older."

"Doesn't that frighten you?" Ori asked.

"Well, no. It's just how life works. I suppose it would be great to live for that long, but at the same time, you age the same as I, though in different ways...that made more sense in my head." she quickly laughed, though no one else joined.

"And...how old are you now?" Kili's voice was quieter.

"I'm twenty-one."

"Twnety one?!" multiple people exclaimed, fussing over how young (Y/N) was.

Her head was running wild, trying to take everything in. They were all asking her so many questions, some she could not answer. She spotted Bilbo attempting to calm them down, but he was too quiet.

"Let me put this into perspective, for all of you!" Gandalf snapped, causing silence."Dwarves are thought to reach maturity at the age of forty, for humans that is twenty. They live the same lives as many of us, just in a shorter time, which is why they always seem to be in a rush with everything."

"You need to be more careful lass." Dwalin announced.

"Yes, we really should be taking better care of you." Bofur agreed.

"I'll protect you (Y/N), I'm not scared!" Ori puffed out his chest.

This was followed by everyone's proclaimations of chivalry, all protesting over what they could do to make her feel safer. Instead of being offended or made to feel weak, she felt loved. She hadn't had many friends since her family died, and had been apprehensive to join a group of strangers. All of this was just too much, it was an emotional moment.

"You don't all have to worry about me. You know I can handle things myself." (Y/N) gushed.

"Doesn't mean you have to." Thorin said, though there was no warm expression on his face."Don't think you have to prove yourself and get you or someone else killed."

He slumped off after he spoke, leaving the company in silence once again. The conversation slowly built back up, the attention still on (Y/N), but Bilbo saw how she was getting upset. Gandalf smiled to himself as he watched the hobbit steer the topic of conversation away from her, glad to have someone with a level head.

Elsewhere, Thorin was leaning against a tree, his hands on his sword as a precaution. He heard footsteps, slow and heavy ones, and he only had to peak his head around the tree to spot Balin. The older dwarf sadly smiled, placing a hand on a tree to steady himself.

"You know, it's not wise to storm off by yourself." Balin half joked.

"I did not storm off."

"I think others might say different Thorin."

Thorin didn't reply.

"They might see it as your usual self. But I can see that look in your eye."

"And what look would that be?"

"You will deny it as soon as I speak it."

"I promise, I shall listen."

Balin raised an eyebrow at him, sighing before he spoke."You have grown fond of the girl. She's a fighter, she's kind and she's smart; (Y/N) didn't come on this quest for her own glory, she came to help us return home."

Thorin did stay silent, because he knew that Balin was right.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you can't let yourself fall for her. For one, you cannot be distracted whilst on this quest, two, she is a human and three...well, being a dwarf, you'll easily outlive her. We all will unfortunately."

"I won't."

"What?"

"I won't fall for her. I haven't been falling for her in the first place."

Balin knew this was the response he would receive. Even though Thorin was denying it, Balin could tell that in his head, he was still thinking about her. And that was a problem.

"You've been through enough pain Thorin. Don't bring more onto yourself." Balin left him with that, making his way back to the camp.

Although Thorin had removed himself from the camp to also remove a certain girl from his thoughts. They weren't sexual, or anything to do with love. He cared for her like a younger sister. Of course, he had been taken back by his beauty (dwarvish women could almost be mistaken for the men), but that wasn't important to him at the time. What Balin said about her was true. She was a selfless human, which was more than he could say about the rest of her kind. He hadn't known how short their lives were, and he wondered why she had chosen to live hers like this, with them. She could be exploring new places by herself, with no one to stop her. Perhaps she would meet another traveller on the way and fall in love, start her own family and move around the world just as her parents did. Though he wouldn't gain any answers like this, he wanted to ensure that she survived this journey, that she was there forbthe glory. She deserved as much as the dwarves this, and with that thought, he solemnly sweared to keep her alive.

[qqueenofhades]

What weapons were used during the Crusades? I remember something vaguely about bows/crossbows being important but nothing else. Thank you :D

Nonnie, if you are (as I suspect) asking this for Very Important Fic Research Purposes, let me just say: you, my good gentleman/lady/nonbinary pal/mineral/vegetable, are Extremely Valid, and I salute you utterly. Let us just quietly assume that is in fact what you are doing. Buckle up, because yes. You have to consider individual and collective weaponry, differences in Christian vs. Muslim armies, tactics, and their development over the crusades. Never fear, I am here to make it entertaining (ish) for you. Let’s start with the individual warriors.

How To Arm Your Crusader: Nicky Edition

First! Nicky is from Genoa, which was most notably involved in the First and Third Crusades. I mention this because if you’re deciding to place him among a contingent of his fellow countrymen, it’s useful to know where you can most easily do that and where it would be most realistic to have them fighting. It will also make a difference for what he’s armed with. You are correct about crossbows being one of the major weapons of the crusades; indeed they were so effective in medieval warfare generally that the church tried to ban them, at the Third Lateran Council in 1179, from being used on fellow Christians. (Muslims were still fair game.) Longbow archers were used occasionally (though it wasn’t until the 13th century, mostly after the end of the crusades, that they became a major battlefield force), but Nicky would definitely be a crossbowman or at least know how to use one, because we have multiple mentions of Genoese crossbowmen in the sources. (Me in the shower this morning: YOU IDIOT OF COURSE HE’S A CROSSBOWMAN! YOU SEE HIM WITH A LONG RIFLE AND EVERYTHING!). Notably, Richard the Lionheart fought the Battle of Jaffa (1192) with 54 Genoese crossbowmen, about 100 knights, and 2 horses. It is up to you if you decide to use this fact or not, ahem.

Crossbows are easier to learn how to use than longbows, but require strength to wind the mechanism and launch the bolt. There is also a more powerful version called the arbalest, which had a frame made of metal instead of wood. These also had a longer range, so they were in fact a bit like the assault rifles of their day. Unlike a rifle, however, you have to have enough time to fire the weapon (which takes a while) and therefore it’s not as useful if the enemy is right on top of you. They’re most helpful in attacking an enemy in a more stationary position (such as, say atop a tower or a wall) and where you can have enough space to reload without being overrun.

We see that Nicky has a broadsword, which would also be a fairly standard weapon for a crusader. Most boys started their training at the age of 7, and the value in achieving the rank of knighthood would rise steadily over the course of the crusades, complementing the development of the ethos of chivalry. At the time of the Norman Conquest (1066), we could still have “free” or “unfree” knights, and it was a mark of military service rather than a distinct social rank. But with the popularity of chivalric literature in the 12th century, the ideas and prestige associated with knighthood skyrocketed. I know I’ve written some posts about this somewhere, which I’m too lazy to go find right now, but you can possibly find them in my medieval history tag. In essence, chivalry means martial prowess. It has a more romanticized aspect, of course, but it’s mostly about kicking ass, though it does prescribe certain codes of conduct for combatants (on both sides) and for noble-born women, as well as a strong religious aspect. If you do want more info on this and how to avoid the stereotypes of a chivalric knight, let me know and I’ll go dig up my old stuff.

There’s also a big difference between fighting on foot (infantry) and fighting on horseback (cavalry). All the footsoldiers were a lower or more common rank, and if you had a horse, you were almost certainly a knight or a professional soldier. Footsoldiers usually were pike (spear)men, since even if you only have long spears and a shield wall, you can throw together a pretty awesome defense. (At the Battle of Hastings, English fyrdmen with just pikes and shields almost defeated multiple Norman heavy cavalry charges.) Plus, a spear doesn’t take too much special training: just poke the sharp end into the other guy, as Jon Snow might say. Hence it was easier for non-professional soldiers or citizen conscripts to use it rather than the more specialized skills for knights.

The best warhorses were known as destriers. They were specially trained to kick, bite, and raise as much hell as their masters in battle; they were expensive and prized. A fast, strong horse often also used for war or for fast travel is a courser. A horse for non-battle or basic transport situations would be a palfrey or a rouncey (though lower-status men-at-arms could also ride one in battle). We can decide whether or not Nicky has one of these.

Armor! The Christian crusaders wore steel (chainmail) which was a major advantage in close-quarters combat. This is not the plate armor you may be thinking of, since full-body armor didn’t get used until around the 14th century at the earliest and came into full vogue in the 15th/16th century (by which cannons had often made it obsolete and dangerous). Chainmail is no joke: it weighs at least thirty pounds and boys had to wear it from childhood to know how to stand up in it, let alone move. (I.e. all those movies where anyone just slaps it on and is fine are liars.) You would wear several layers: first an undertunic, then a padded leather gambeson, the steel hauberk itself (often thigh-length), and then a cloth tabard on top, which displays your badge or flag or your cross, if you’re a crusader (though these were far from ubiquitous and sometimes color-coded by country). That way people can also tell which side you belong to. You wear a helmet on your head (obviously), vambraces and gloves on your arms, and greaves on your legs, over heavy leather boots. Now imagine all that coming at you with a spear on a charging warhorse.

.... what I’m saying is, medieval knights could kick your ASS.

You can also use daggers, hatchets, and other small arms (morningstars are cool, but alas, were never really used in the field). A knight sometimes carried a special blade known as a misericorde, which had the gruesome but necessary purpose of finishing off a wounded enemy (or friend) who hadn’t died immediately from their injury but wasn’t going to survive it either. Welp.

And with that:

How To Arm Your Muslim Warrior: Joe Edition

So we’ve got Nicky sorted: what about his More Than Boyfriend mortal enemy? Well, for the most part, it will look something like the above. Christian crusaders of the period would have called Muslims “Saracens,” which was the name for them, along with less flattering things (heathens, infidels, etc) but when in doubt, if writing from a crusader POV, you can just use Saracens. Actual Muslims obviously never use this word to refer to themselves. They did not have crossbows, but rather shorter and more mobile bows that were designed to be used from horseback. Arabian horses were smaller in stature than European destriers, but faster and more maneuverable, and had a legendary reputation for speed and temperament. Muslim forces would also sometimes ride to the battlefield and then dismount to fight.

We see that Joe has a sword with a shorter and wider/slightly curved blade in comparison to Nicky’s long, straight broadsword. In my fic, I call this a saif, which is just the Arabic word for sword and is how Muslims of the period would have referred to it (the word “scimitar” is from an Italian name for it and wasn’t used until at least the 16th century). It can mostly refer to any Islamic sword in this style, though there are different names for regional variations. If you want to give him a really cool and culturally significant weapon (especially since I headcanon him as a Fatimid Shia Muslim from Egypt), you could give him the zulfiqar, which was a double-pointed sword used by Ali ibn Abi Talib, a cousin of Prophet Muhammad and one of the main figures in Shia Islam. It is often represented on flags and in battlefield invocations. The actual zulfiqars that exist are more often dated from the 16th/17th century with the Ottomans or from 19th-century Persia, rather than from the crusades, but hey, you can always say that Joe had something to do with that. Sidenote, research the differences in the various Muslim dynasties of the crusader period, as they’re definitely not one size fits all (especially in re: the prominence of Sunni sultans in the later crusades, and how Joe might have thought about that).

As noted, the Muslims didn’t wear steel armor, which was a disadvantage to them in close-quarters combat with crusaders. Their armor was made of boiled leather and lamellar scales, designed to be light and good for long-distance riding rather than a heavy battle. They would also have helmets (in various shapes and styles), gloves, etc. An archer would have a quiver and have to think about using, reclaiming, or mending arrows after a battle (the Never Ending Quiver in every movie ever: ALSO WRONG).

I will confess that I don’t know as much about Islamic warrior ethoi comparable to chivalry as I should. However, the crusades were taking place against the backdrop of the Islamic Golden Age, in which the culture, sophistication, and scholarly study in the Islamic world was at its height, and there are plenty of artists, poets, mathematicans, and philosophers that Joe would be familiar with, that would guide his actions in the way that chivalry might for a knight. Such as, for example, Avicenna (Ibn Sina) from Samarkand, or the Banu Musa brothers of Baghdad. There would also obviously be the Qur’an and the ahaditha (sayings of Prophet Muhammad) and other religious texts and traditions. Obviously if you’re going to use any of these, be respectful, do your research, and present it in a positive way.

And then of course there is the:

Big-Ass Cool Weapons of Major Boom

So what else do we have on a large scale, aside from the individual warriors? For a start, we have (on the crusader side) siege engines, such as mangonels, trebuchets, towers, etc. These are not comparable to the Return of the King-esque “break off a chunk of the city with every hit,” but they were pretty damn effective; during the Third Crusade, one stone from a trebuchet was reputed to have killed twelve people in the market in Acre. Richard the Lionheart also hauled along a lot of high-quality stone from Sicily to make better missiles than the soft crumbly sandstone of the Holy Land. There’s a reference to a “cat,” which seems to have been a tower containing multiple compartments for crossbowmen, which could be pushed up against city walls. There are also battering rams and other blunt-force weapons, since sieges were a main part of every crusade. (In fact, commanders tried to avoid open battles as much as they could, though there were also usually at least one on each crusade.) Defensive strategy included digging deep ditches around walls, to prevent your opponent’s siege engines from getting too close, or just throwing stuff down at them as they tried to climb with scaling ladders. With this, we also have....

Greek fire! It’s semi-similar to wildfire from Game of Thrones, even if not quite as effective, but still a pretty cool weapon. The Muslims used it first; it didn’t enter Christian warfare until Geoffrey Plantagenet introduced it in 1151 (his grandson, Richard the Lionheart, also got to be rather fond of it). It was a long-burning liquid explosive that could burn even on water and couldn’t be put out by regular means; it was very feared and very effective. So if you were under siege and had some of that stuff to pour down on the defenders, it would be useful (along with boiling pitch, oil, or other more ordinary substances). Your enemy might plan for that or try to defend against it by using hides soaked in water or some other kind of shield.

Anyway, I’m sure there is more I could say here, but this is already MORE than long enough. I hope it is helpful to start with. And inspirational. Ahem.