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hbyrde36 · 11 months ago

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Times Like These (The Anniversary Edition)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Hold Your Peace

WC: 4695 | AO3 link

“Are you sure you have it?”

At the sound of Chrissy’s voice Eddie’s eyes snapped open, though he didn’t exactly remember closing them. For some reason he was a bit more disoriented this time when he–

…This time?

There she stood in the middle of the room again. Chrissy—alive, and breathing, and beautiful, and…

Holy shit!

Was this really happening again?

Had he, despite his own stupidity, earned another chance at redemption?

In an instant he was across the room, placing gentle hands on either side of her face. She blinked up at him, eyes wide, too surprised at the gesture to move away. Eddie knew he only had a few precious moments until Vecna would take her again. There was no time to explain anything, but he had to ask the one simple question that’d been plaguing him since the beginning of the last loop.

The last loop.

Jesus, he was really buying into this thing wasn’t he. Hard to deny it when the proof was standing right in front of him.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, and I know this isn’t gonna make any sense right now, but I need you to humor me, okay? Can you tell me your favorite song? Please?”

He wasn’t above begging. At this point he would do just about anything to not have to watch this poor girl die again in the most awful way imaginable.

“Oh!” Chrissy squeaked, furrowing her brow and sputtering for a moment before answering, “We Belong? By P-P- Pat Benatar?”

She said it like a question, as if she were unsure that it was the right answer, but Eddie knew it had more to do with the odd circumstances of the situation at hand.

He smiled broadly, pleasantly surprised at the answer—surprised to have gotten an answer at all, really. He stroked a thumb across her cheek once, still in a bit of disbelief that she was real, and let his hands fall.

“Pat Benatar, huh?” He said, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded to himself, already thinking furiously about how he was going to pull this off. "Okay, yeah, I can work with that. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Eddie bounded to his bedroom, bypassing the black and red Warlock hanging from its place of honor on the wall, and instead grabbed for his old acoustic guitar that was sitting in the corner collecting dust.

He rushed back out, unsurprised to find Chrissy already in the enemy’s thrall. As her feet slowly lifted off the ground he did his best to recall the song. It still played on the radio all the time but Pop-Rock wasn’t exactly his style, and he had a habit of switching stations whenever the ballad came on. He hummed out what little he could remember and strummed a few chords to get a feel for the notes, working in the few lyrics he knew as he tried to muddle through his own uniquely awful rendition of the song.

He faltered for a second, almost dropping the guitar as her first limb bent back with an audible crack. He choked on a sob, but did his best to continue to sing and play through his tears and the tightening of his throat.

It wasn’t working. He knew it wasn’t working but still he kept on. It was the only help he had to offer now, and on the off chance that she could hear him, he hoped it would give her some comfort to know she wasn’t alone in her last terrifying moments.

He didn’t stop until her lifeless body fell, landing hard on the carpet in front of him.

Eddie screamed his frustration wordlessly as he knelt down beside what was left of Chrissy Cunningham. A girl he had barely known, who he hadn’t shared more than two words with before all this shit started, but who he would give anything to be able to save.

She’d done nothing wrong. She deserved to live, and selfishly he yearned for the opportunity to get to know her. They hadn’t shared much, a brief conversation at the picnic table that had mostly consisted of him goofing around to try and make her smile—to cheer her up because it’d been obvious to him right away that she was struggling with something. He thought they could be friends, given the opportunity. The Freak and The Cheerleader, weirder things had happened.

“God.” Eddie gasped, gripping onto her hand that was already growing cold. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t do better. I… “ He trailed off, letting her hand go as he rose stiffly to his feet, rubbing aggressively at the wetness on his face.

“Next time, I- I’ll learn the song if it kills me.” He let out a wry laugh at himself and the irony of his choice of phrase, looking back at her one last time before walking out the door.

He’d promised Dustin that he would tell him as soon as possible about the loops, and briefly Eddie considered heading straight to the kid’s house. But, it was getting late. He didn’t want to scare Henderson’s mom, and truth be told he needed a little time to get his shit together anyway.

Might as well let the little guy get one last good night’s sleep in before all hell broke loose.

Eddie parked his van in the woods and walked the short distance from its hiding spot to Rick’s house, just as he had twice over, using the key under the mat to get inside. He knew he should probably get some rest himself, having not had more than a few scattered hours of sleep here and there in… christ, like two weeks now?

Did sleep debt accumulate in a time loop or was the gauge on his fuel tank reset each time he went back? Not that it mattered, he was too keyed up and nervous about how in the hell he was going to explain all this to everyone tomorrow to sleep.

Instead he tore through the drawers in Rick’s kitchen until he found a notebook and a pen, and spent the rest of the night writing down every single detail he could remember about what had happened, or would happen, over the next few days—committing it all to paper in case his nerves got the best of him and he forgot something important.

At dawn he reluctantly moved to the boathouse. From all his time spent here so far he knew it was unlikely that anyone would notice him sneaking around, at least not until Jason and his goons showed up, but at this point he was running on autopilot and figured, better safe than sorry.

Eddie paced inside the small shack restlessly until finally he heard them, voices outside, Dustin, Steve, and the others calling his name. This time when they approached the door he didn’t hide, he called out, “yeah, Henderson. It’s me… uh, come on in.”

Dustin barged right in at his reply, but was quickly pushed aside by Steve, moving past to get between him and Eddie. Max and Robin eased in behind them and closed the door.

Steve eyed him warily, taking on a protective stance, and Eddie couldn’t really blame the guy.

He also knew exactly how fucked up this was about to get, so he took a big step back and raised his hands, wiggling his fingers to show they were empty. No reason to make Steve more skittish than he already was. “See, Harrington? I’m unarmed.”

“I told you.” Dustin grumbled as he muscled his way past Steve, walking right up to Eddie and throwing his arms around him without hesitation.

It knocked the wind out of him in more ways than one.

Eddie was a touchy guy by nature, always ruffling his friends’ hair, or throwing an arm over their shoulders, and it wasn’t like Dustin hadn’t hugged him before, but somehow this felt different.

He hadn’t even explained himself yet. Dustin had absolutely no proof of his innocence and yet here the kid was gripping him tight, face buried in his chest as he mumbled something that sounded like, “I’m so glad we found you, I know you didn’t do it.”

There was also the fact that he’d died in this kid’s arms twice now, and Eddie was pretty sure he’d be hearing those heartbreaking cries in his dreams for the rest of his life, however long that might be.

Eddie slowly lowered his hands as he kept eye contact with Steve, trying to convey with his eyes that he was okay, that he wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

“I’m glad you found me too, buddy,” He said, smiling sadly to himself as he patted Dustin’s back.

The kid pulled away a moment later, gesturing at everyone else. “Eddie, these are my friends Steve, Robin, and Max”

“Yeah,” Eddie snorted. It was funny enough to ease a bit of the tightness in his chest. Even if he hadn’t been through multiple rounds of hell with these people, Dustin had to realize he never shut up about them. ”Yeah, Henderson. I know who they are.”

Steve was looking at him apprehensively still, like he might snap at any minute. He wished he knew what to say to make the guy chill out.

“No need to look so stressed, Steve. I swear, I didn’t–” Eddie paused, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat, voice shaking when he went on. “I didn’t kill her.”

The feelings that he’d been swallowing back all night started to bubble to the surface as he thought about Chrissy, and he honestly wasn’t sure how he was going to do this without falling apart.

“It’s okay.” Robin said, stepping out from behind Steve for the first time and approaching him. “We just want to know what happened.”

“We want to help.” Max added.

Eddie nodded absently, clearing his throat. “I know,” he said, and couldn’t help noticing how Robin and Steve shared a confused look at that. “And I'll tell you everything, I just, uh– I need a quick word with Dustin first? Alone.”

The kid tilted his head, but shrugged and motioned to the far corner.

Before either of them could move, however, Steve stepped between them again. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Dude, come on! It’s fine. It’s just Eddie!”

Steve gave him an unimpressed look and assumed what Eddie had begun to think of as his– mom stance—hands on his hips accompanied by a disappointed glare. “I don’t see why he can’t say whatever it is he needs to say to you in front of all of us.”

“You’re being an asshole.” Dustin spat. “Eddie is my friend. He doesn’t know you, and maybe there’s something he doesn’t want to share with the whole class, hmm?”

Steve pursed his lips, his face and body language making it clear that he had no intention of budging on this. “I’m sorry. I know it might seem harsh, but it’s my responsibility to protect you and I can’t do that if he’s keeping secrets.”

Eddie sighed heavily, this whole thing was already so fucking exhausting.

He got where Steve was coming from. To him, Eddie Munson was still nothing more than The Freak. A drug dealing super-senior who regularly stood on lunch tables to perform tirades about the dangers of conformity. He didn’t know yet that they would come to trust and rely on each other in a way neither of them would have ever expected, Or, how Eddie had, against his better judgment, jumped into Lover’s Lake and helped save him from a swarm of Demobats– twice. Steve couldn’t know that they bonded a little when they were stuck in that awful place, or that before he died, Eddie had started to consider them friends.

He understood all of that, but it still sucked.

“Fine, we’ll do it your way.” Eddie said, and plopped himself down on the floor. He was too tired to do this shit standing up.

The others joined him, sitting in some semblance of a circle as Eddie began his tale.

He started off easy, matter-of-factly telling the same old story about Chrissy approaching him to buy drugs, and how he hadn’t had what she was looking for on him, so they made arrangements to meet later after the game. He detailed most of what happened at the trailer, keeping the part about trying to play the song for her to himself for now.

The silence was thick when he was done, and Eddie let it settle around him for a moment as he prepared for what he needed to say next. He saw Dustin open his mouth to speak and it gave him an idea about how to convince them of the truth.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Eddie said quickly, before the kid could get a word out.

“You really don’t. Look, you know how–”

Eddie cut him off. “Actually, uh, I do. Fuck… “ He trailed off and took a deep breath. “This is gonna be, like, really hard to believe, but I need you to let me say it– all of it, before you ask any questions. Okay?”

The foursome all turned, looking away from him for the first time since he’d started talking, to share a loaded look with each other. Eddie, on the other hand, only had eyes for Steve, knowing it was his approval he needed. That he would likely be the hardest to convince.

“Okay.” Steve said with a little nod.

Eddie dropped his eyes to the floor and let it all out in a rush. “I know all about the Upside Down. I know Will Byers was taken by a demogorgon in ‘83. I know about the mind flayer and Billy Hargrove, and that …something happened with Steve and Robin involving some Russians at the mall. Though honestly, I’m still waiting to get more details on that one.” He paused briefly, chancing a look up to see how everyone was taking his little monologue.

“I know all these things because you told me, before.”

Steve looked absolutely livid, but the fire in his eyes wasn’t aimed at Eddie, it was Dustin he was staring daggers at.

“Damnit, Henderson!” Steve shouted, running a hand through his hair roughly. “I can’t believe you told him all that stuff, man! You know we can’t do that! Think of the danger you put yourself in by blabbing, not to mention the danger you put Eddie in by telling him! I mean, shit! Did you not stop to consider what sort of threats were included in those NDAs we all signed?”

Eddie was more than a little taken aback by Steve’s apparent worry for his safety.

“I’m touched by the concern, Harrington. Really I am, but Henderson didn’t tell me all that stuff until I was already involved. You all told me things.” Eddie hesitated, raking a hand down his face. This was getting messy, he needed to just spit it out. “I… I’m stuck in a time loop. I’ve lived last night and the next few days twice over now. This is my third go-around.”

He slipped the little notebook that he’d filled from cover to cover out of his pocket, and tossed it to Dustin, who caught it clumsily.

“When I got here last night, I wrote it all down. Everything that’s going to happen. Well, the stuff I was there for at least.” Eddie chewed nervously on his thumbnail, darting his gaze to each of them in turn and taking in their disbelieving looks.

“I know this is crazy, and you probably don’t believe me, but I swear it’s the truth. I didn’t tell anyone last time until near the end because–” He stopped abruptly, blowing out a long breath. If he told them what he’d really thought they’d think he was certifiable for sure. “Because, I honestly wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. I told you, Dustin, at the last minute and you made me promise to tell you again as soon as possible if I got another chance. So here I am, telling you.”

A long moment went by where no one spoke, and Eddie was sure that he had botched this whole thing. There was no way they believed him. He still had Henderson’s family secret in his back pocket, and he’d pull it out if he had to, but not in front of all of them.

“What resets the loop, Eddie?” Dustin asked suddenly—quietly, a slight quiver to his voice.

Eddie looked the kid in the eye and knew without a doubt that not only did he believe him about the loops, but he had already done the math, figured out the catch. Too smart for his own good sometimes, really, but in this case it was almost a relief. As much as he would have liked to protect Dustin from this particular truth, there was no way around it.

“I died.” Eddie said, eyes falling once again to the floor, unable to face Dustin as he confirmed his suspicion.

“We go into the Upside Down to fight the bad guy, and I die. Then, I open my eyes and I’m back in my trailer, minutes before Chrissy gets attacked.”

Dustin said nothing else in response, quiet in a way Eddie had never seen. Max and Robin just looked like they wanted to throw up, and Steve looked skeptical, obviously gearing up to argue, or at the very least ask some follow up questions. Which was fair, he supposed.

Before Steve could so much as open his mouth though, Dustin shoved the notebook in his face.

“You read it first, Steve. Just give him a chance.”

“Fine.” Steve said, snatching the book out of Dustin’s hands and cracking it open, taking one last hard look at Eddie before starting to read through it.

As Steve read, Eddie could almost see the animosity draining out of him. The scowl that had been stuck on his face since arrival smoothed out into a concerned frown, and worry lines appeared at the corner of his eyes. It was a good sign, but as the other boy turned the final page, an awful thought occurred to Eddie, and he realized he’d made a huge mistake.

“Wait. Steve, stop. I think I fucked up here.” Eddie said, wringing his hands. “I shouldn’t–I shouldn’t have told you any of this. Not yet.”

“Wait, what?!” Dustin shouted.

“Why?” Steve asked.

“I swore to Chrissy that I would save her, I have to go back. I have to–” He cut himself off leaving the word unsaid. “I shouldn't have burdened you all with this shit, not when I knew I had to do it all over again. I just… I wasn’t thinking. I promised Dustin right as–”

Steve cut him off mid-spiral, scooting across the floor to sit in front of him.

“Eddie, man. Listen, I understand, believe me I do.” Steve paused, fidgeting with the notebook with one hand while reaching out with the other to place it tentatively on Eddie’s shoulder, and even through all his layers of clothes he could feel the other boy's warmth sink into him.

“You said you know about what happened to Will in ‘83, but what you might not know is… that same year Nancy’s friend Barb was also taken by a Demogorgon. She– died in my pool, the Upside Down version of it anyway. She died on my watch and-” Steve hesitated, taking a deep breath before going on.

“I get the kind of guilt you must be feeling right now, okay? I lived it– am still living it, but if we have the chance to save you and kill whoever this Vecna creep is? We should take it. What if this loop thing has a limit? What if this time you don’t get to come back? Do you know what that would do to us when we’ll know we could have saved you?!”

Eddie couldn’t help feeling a certain way about Steve sharing that with him. In all the days, and repeats of days, that they’d spent together so far, it was the first time the other boy had told him that story.

“I get what you’re saying, Steve. Shit, it’s pretty much the same thing I'm trying to say. I'm sorry that happened to you, but tell me something, and be honest. If you had even the slightest chance to go back and save Barb, even at your own risk, wouldn’t you take it?”

Steve’s eyes, which had hardened again in frustration by the end of his own speech, softened as he took in Eddie’s words. He gave a single reluctant nod of agreement and squeezed his shoulder before letting go. Eddie missed the contact immediately.

“But you can’t! That’s like, suicide!” Dustin screeched, probably feeling a little, or a lot betrayed by Steve taking his side.

“Not if I plan on coming back it's not. Sorry, Henderson, I know you don’t like it, but this is my choice, alright? I’m not leaving Chrissy behind. End of story.”

“B-b- but...” the kid sputtered.

“Stop.” Steve cut in. “He’s right, Dustin. I hate it, but it’s his decision. This thing is happening to him, and even if we want to help, we have to respect that and hope we get another do-over.” Steve sighed, turning his attention back to Eddie.

“So, how do you wanna do this?” He asked, looking deep into his eyes, the air between them suddenly impossibly heavy.

Because Steve knew what was coming now.

He’d just finished reading about all the fucked up shit that was about to happen and now he was looking to Eddie for direction. Jesus H. Christ, he was really regretting not thinking this through, because the only answer he had was to do nothing… keep everything the same to make sure that the outcome was the same, and that meant putting them all through the ringer. It meant Steve getting hurt, nearly drowning, nearly dying– again.

“I know it’s not fair to ask this, now that you’ve read that.” Eddie said, gesturing at the little notebook still resting in Steve's hand. “but I think the best thing to do– the only thing to do, is to let things happen the way they have been for now. Not tell the others, keep it between the five of us.”

“I’ve been through worse.” Steve shrugged, seemingly unbothered save for a tightness around his eyes that Eddie might have missed if he wasn’t paying attention.

“Besides, if it works we won’t remember any of it anyway, right?” He continued. “And then we can finish this for good. You save Chrissy, and we’ll save you.”

“If you're sure.” Eddie said, offering him an out. If Steve really didn't want to do this he wouldn’t force him, he could always try and find another way to… cause the reset.

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

Dustin continued to argue with both of them for a while, but now that Steve was on his side Eddie knew that was it. Eventually the kid quieted down, accepting the fact that he wasn’t going to change anyone’s mind.

As the others prepared to leave, knowing they needed to find Nancy and Lucas to let them know the Upside Down was back, and maybe try calling the Byers in California, Steve lagged behind, using giving the notebook back to Eddie as an excuse.

“Do you need anything?”

“Might be a long shot, but could you get me a walkman and a Pat Benatar tape?”

Steve pursed his lips, thinking, but it only took him a moment to put it together.

“Chrissy’s favorite song?” He asked.

“Yeah. I went into it this time knowing I had a second with her before the attack, so I asked. I did try—to play it for her, I mean. I didn’t have the tape, it’s not exactly my type of music, y’know? I'd heard the song once or twice though, so I gave it a go on my guitar, but it wasn’t good enough.”

Steve gave him a small sympathetic smile. “Robin likes Pat Benatar too, and I actually have a few of her tapes in the car. Headphones too, but how will that help? You won’t still have it with you after–”

“No, but I learn a lot of songs by ear. if I listen to it over and over again now while I can, when the loop restarts I should be able to play it for her, get her out like you’ll do for Red.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and actually looked a little impressed. “You’re-” He cut himself off, as if changing what he was about to say at the last second. “You’re not anything like I thought you’d be.”

Eddie let out his first genuine laugh in far too long. It looked like they'd be doing the same song and dance every time. Of all the things he had to repeat, getting to know the real Steve was the one thing he didn’t mind.

“Right back at ya big boy.” Eddie said, throwing Steve a wink before he went back out to his car.

Eddie listened to the song dozens of times over the following days, concentrating on learning every single word and note as a distraction from everything else that was happening around him.

He was worried at first, when he was finally brought into the fold with the others who weren’t privy to the conversation in the boathouse. But Steve was true to his word. Neither he or Dustin, Robin, or Max, said anything about Eddie’s predicament, and he never once complained or so much as gave Eddie a dirty look, even when he was grabbed by those vines and dragged through the lake, down and out the other side. He did catch Dustin giving him a few sideways looks here and there, but the kid said nothing.

Eddie was grateful for that. He didn’t exactly want to die. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to feeling the bats gnawing on his skin again, and he didn't need any outside influence making him lose his nerve when they were so close to the end.

When the time came, Eddie considered not cutting the rope. It wasn't like it stopped Dustin the first or second time, not to mention that he hurt his leg dropping down from the hole without it, but what if that small delay was the only thing that kept the kid safe? It wasn’t worth it, just in case. If something went wrong he could live with, or rather, die with knowing Dustin would suffer only a sprained ankle and not something worse.

It was a bit more difficult this time to find the will to fight so hard against the oncoming hoard, when all he wanted was for it to be over so he could see if the third time would be the charm, but he was too worried that any deviation from what he knew would change things. Maybe he had to die in just the right place, at just the right time, to set things in motion to send him back.

So he ran, and he fought, and he bled, and found that the pain didn’t bother him quite so much anymore. He was getting used to it.

It might have been his imagination but Dustin’s limp looked more pronounced this time as he approached Eddie’s broken body. He felt horrible for causing this kid, his friend, so much suffering.

Dustin fell to his knees next to Eddie and began to sob uncontrollably, and for the millionth time Eddie wished he could somehow spare him this. He could only hope that the loop would start over again and no one but him would have to remember.

“Don’t cry, buddy. Please.” Eddie forced out around the blood filling his mouth. “I’m gonna fix it.” He coughed, struggling to take his final breaths.

“I love you, man.” Eddie said.

Dustin bowed his head. “I love you too.”

Chapter 3

Thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Reblogs are always appreciated and if you want to be tagged, just let me know! I'd be more than happy to do so 💜

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#steddie fanfic #time loop #pov eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #fanfic #hbyrde's anniversary project

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basicjetsetter · 4 years ago

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The Fall of Deus

♡ Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x BlackFemale!Reader

♧ Setting: The Terrace Room in The Plaza Hotel, New York

♤ Warnings: Heavy Suspense, Language, Adult Themes, Violence, Gambling, Drinking

♢ Word Count: 6.5k

☆ A/N: No joke, this took me about two years to conceptualize. Two freaking years. But I can 100% say it was worth it to write every word. This is by far one of my most creative works and I love that I get to finally share it with you all. Please hit like if you enjoy it, leave me a lil’ comment and a reblog if you love it. Happy reading!

You couldn’t help but notice and admire how pretty the sky appeared when it was tinged in the auroral haze of an autumn morning and backdropped by the twinkling glass panes of New York’s notorious skyscrapers. Though autumn’s end isn’t for a couple of weeks, the lukewarm season allowed Manhattan a preview of winter’s frigid air. The city's constant roar hummed down to a distant lullaby as you walked up the steps and in through the doors of the Metropolitan Detention Center.

It’s an impressively modern building, one you’ve become intimately familiar with in the past couple of years. Everything inside screams order, from the plain white, bleach-scented linoleum floors to the rows upon rows of caged boxes containing a range of one-time offenders, serial criminals, and constant jailbirds. The first time you ever entered the establishment, it struck you just how much the atmosphere felt devoid and depraved, almost as if hope and happiness got stopped, frisked, and turned away at the door. You never liked staying more than necessary.

None of the four guards stationed along the main lobby walls paid you any attention as you marched up to the reception desk. Their inattention didn’t spawn out of contempt but out of fear. They knew who you were here for.

The receptionist, on the other hand, wouldn’t care if the Queen of England herself hop-scotched through the front entrance, bowed, and bestowed him the coveted Royal Crown on a jewel-encrusted platter.

He certainly never took an interest in your frequent visits. The first time you set foot into this building, a bright-eyed attorney anxious to speak with her first client, the oaf of a man merely grunted at your carefully constructed introductions and waved you off like a pesky fly. On a typical day, your exchange of words consisted of him curtly asking you to state your business while he half-listened to your response and stabbed at his keyboard with blunt fingers. Detaching his gaze from the monitor might have required exhaustion of his half-assed energy.

Today wasn’t unlike any other day. Phillips told you your client's location, even though you both knew the area by heart. Third floor. Cell Block E. Number 7. Always Number 7. Lucky Number 7.

Most of your ordinary clients got shipped to this facility and locked up with the rest of the inmates until you picked up their case. Unlike this particular client you planned on springing today, those other men lacked the say-so to determine their cell. None of them came close to his status. They didn’t have the power nor the money to hire a personal attorney, and none of their crimes could ever match those of the calculated, cunning man who controlled all New York's avenues and boulevards.

In the streets, he’s known as Deus. Depending on how close you are in his circle, he's either Parker or Pete. The name in the system is Peter Benjamin Parker. Your fiancé.

| Last Evening |

“Stop fidgeting with your collar, Peter.”

“This fucking bowtie keeps… shit… it keeps choking me.” He growled out his frustration. “I’m going to fire that damn stylist.”

You threw him an exasperated glare as he ripped off the accessory. “Maybe if you hadn’t told him to pick any old bowtie, you wouldn’t be whining so much.”

“Remind me again why you're forcing me to wear this, anyway?” He paused for effect, placing his hand under his chin like Rodin’s The Thinker, and then snapped his fingers in dramatic realization. “Oh, right! Because Stark is a pretentious asshole, who thinks tuxedos are mandatory at all events thrown in his honor.”

Peter may hate the idea of wearing a formal tuxedo for the whole night, but you were going to enjoy every last minute of him in that attire, mainly because he resembles a model who stepped right off the page of a GQ cover. The low-lighting in this limousine certainly did its best to heighten your mood, highlighting the sharp angles of Peter’s clenched jaw. You’d have to remember to send Pepper a Thank You basket for planning the event as Black Tie.

“Can you at least pretend to get along with Tony tonight?” To see if his jaw could tighten any further, you coyly add, “He is the new Governor of New York, after all.”

Mission accomplished. Peter leaned his head back against the headrest and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, the light that glinted off of his platinum Rolex creating a scattered array of lights against the black leather seats. You pried your eyes off the extension of his neck as he spoke. “Great,” he huffed. “That’s exactly what I need right now. A gloating Stark who’s now legally duty-bound to hound my ass. One more thing to think about.”

As the limo pulled up to a slow halt in front of the Plaza Hotel, you grabbed one of Peter’s hands and held it until his eyes met yours. You gave him a reassuring smile and said, “Everything’s going to be alright, baby.”

The driver opened the door before Peter could speak and held out his gloved hand for you. You’ve been to the Plaza Hotel on many occasions, mostly business, and yet the sight of the château-styled building at night, with its myriad of lit windows and its luxurious lobby never ceased to leave you breathless. The view effectually took your gaze away from Peter’s tux, but not for long. The moment he stepped out of the limo, bathed in the golden light of the building, you felt transfixed all over again.

Peter discreetly tipped the driver and then turned to face you, clearly not as impressed with the Plaza Hotel as you were. He placed his warm hands on the swells of your hips and pulled you in front of him. His eyes appraised you, from your stiletto heels to your tight-fitted, off the shoulder evening dress, traveling up to your chunky Senegalese twists elegantly laid over your shoulder. He let out a low whistle and said, “If looks could kill…”

You straightened his collar and opened up the top button of his gingham dress shirt for both your sakes, then swiftly leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. “You’re not too shabby yourself, Mr. Parker.”

He wolfishly grinned as you quickly detached yourself from his borderline caressing hold. You knew he’d want more than a short kiss, but you couldn’t afford to get sidetracked tonight.

“Behave,” you chided.

“And if I don’t, future Mrs. Parker?” he prodded, a huskiness in his tone that sent a delicious shiver through you. His steps slowly brought him closer and closer to where you stood, and you weren’t sure if you’d have the will power to move away again. One proper kiss wouldn’t hurt…

A disembodied voice groaned in your ear. “Book a room!”

Peter chuckled unabashedly. “Sorry, Ned.” Though he tried to appear unaffected, Peter made an effort to clear his throat and tugged at his collar. “You ready on your end?”

“Yeah. Mic’s clear. Computer’s up and running. I’m all set. Can’t say the same for you two.”

You glance accusingly at Peter, who waggled his eyebrows at you. “We’re ready. Sorry about that. You know how Peter gets when I wear twists.”

Ned verbally shuddered. “Don’t remind me. I still refuse to sit on my couch, by the way, even after washing it four times! You owe me a new couch, dude. For my trauma.”

Peter half-heartedly grinned at the ground and said, “Dude, if we pull this off, I’ll buy you a whole new furniture set.” The one half of his grin faded away, replaced with a grim line of determination and sobriety. “Where’s he at?”

A few clicks rang through your ear-piece, then Ned replied, “Not far. About twenty minutes away, on Queens Boulevard in Elmhurst. Might be a while before he reaches the Plaza, though. There’s a jam on the bridge.”

“Cool, thanks. Keep us updated.” Peter didn’t want you to catch his expression, but you didn’t need to directly see it to realize he’s in business mode, cold and calculated, little to no warmth or playfulness left in his brown eyes.

Copying your move, he took your hand and held it until you both stared at each other. Briefly, with your eyes locked in place, he searched for any sliver of doubt, giving you one last option to ditch and save face while he executes the plan solo. You did not doubt that he and Ned could somehow pull it off without so much as a hiccup. Odds always work in Peter’s favor. For the past three years that you’ve known him, he’s never lost a gamble. Tonight, though, the gamble must include you, a new piece to his complicated game—a variable. If anything were to head south, the last thing Peter would want is to implicate you.

You understood the risks: the potential loss of your career, your squeaky clean record, and possibly your life. You wouldn’t be here, with him of all people, if you didn’t trust the plan. So you didn’t sway, letting your eyes confirm where you stood on the matter. I’m sticking with you. This exchange passed in absolute silence, ending with a small nod and a lingering kiss to your palm.

It’s always surprising to see Peter without a trace of humor or good-nature in his eyes. It took you a while to acclimate to his night and day demeanor and even longer to trust which emotions were real and which served a purpose. As he slides a cocky smile back onto his face, one that graces every part of his features, and holds out his arm for you, you knew. He’s in his element.

The game’s begun.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

Not even five seconds into the Terrace Room and your jaw hit the floor. Pepper sure knows how to out-do herself.

The room displayed the same historic French charm as the outside façade, but much more grand, decorated with multiple crystalline chandeliers, large stone semicircular archways, and classical art adorning the ceilings. Somehow, Pepper’s touch of cream-colored table cloths, bouquets of immaculate white peonies, golden napkins, and floating candle holders added the perfect ambiance for Tony’s celebration.

True to his fashion.

The Man of the Hour is currently giving his speech at the head table as the Maître D’ checks your reservation and prompts a server to escort you and Peter to your table. It’s located not too far away from Tony's, near a stone wall and a divider separating the other tables. You weren’t entirely familiar with the three people who were already seated, but they graciously offered quiet nods of welcome. Peter grabbed your chair for you and smoothly pushed you in before taking his seat next to you while you strained to catch the last bits of Tony’s speech.

“… and I can truly say that without you, my amazing colleagues, friends, and organizers present tonight, this win would not have been possible. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And um, yeah. Thank you, all.” Tony lifted his champagne flute into the air with a flourish and a winning grin. Peter rolled his eyes. “Here’s to an awesome four years as New York’s new Governor.”

Everyone stood up to give him a round of applause, Peter’s claps more grudging than encouraging, but you were glad he put in some effort. When he looked your way, you flashed him a loving smile and mouthed Thank you. He rolled his eyes again, playfully this time, and quirked his mouth up in an amused grin.

Live music picked up as soon as Tony took his seat, soft jazz that blended well with the onslaught of muffled chatter and clinks of silverware against glass plates. Servers incrementally brought out the main course of roasted beef filet dressed in tomato tarragon sauce and a side of arugula salad. Peter stifled a chuckle as he heard your stomach growl when a server placed the plate of food in front of you.

As another server leaned in to pour you a glass of wine, you held out a hand and gave him a polite smile. “No, thank you. May I just have some water, please?”

The young man nodded, but Peter piped up before he could head off. “Got anything stronger back there? Bacardi? Whiskey? Rum?”

“We have Vodka, sir,” the server stuttered out.

“Excellent. I’ll take a whole bottle of that,” Peter grinned and pressed a couple of $100 bills into the man’s palm. Peter’s effect on people never got tiring to witness. He and the server appear to be around the same age, somewhere near the 25-year mark, yet Peter's vibe reduced the server to stutters. You’d say the tux assisted with his air of importance, but you’ve seen Peter have that same effect on businessmen while wearing a shirt that read “I lost an electron. Are you positive?” and plaid pajama bottoms.

The server vigorously nodded. “Right away, sir.”

“Don’t drink too much,” you cautioned in a tone low enough for only Peter’s ears. “You know how you get, and I don’t want Tony to have an excuse to place cuffs on you.”

Peter scoffed and mumbled around a bite of salad, “If I looked at him wrong, Tony would cuff me.”

“Now that’s a little presumptuous, ain’t it, Petey?”

You jumped up from your seat and wrapped Tony up in a hug he warmly returned. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you, Governor Stark.”

Tony waved a hand, yet a big smile remained plastered on his face. “Ah, come on. It was bound to happen. Policy is the new name of the game, but I’ll sure miss that courtroom. You missy, on the other hand, deserve all the praise in the world. Best and youngest attorney in the whole state. Mentored by yours truly.” He trailed off, glancing in Peter’s general direction. “Though I question why you waste your talents on the likes of him.”

Now sitting ramrod straight in his chair, Peter slanted his eyes toward yours as you silently pleaded with him to be cordial. Once he brought his eyes back to Tony, he jerked up his chin in recognition. “Stark.”

Tony nodded at Peter. “Baby-faced Criminal.”

“Hey, now!” Pepper swooped in, pulling Tony back a little so she could see you better. “Just look at you! Always a beauty in everything you wear,” she gushed, then put on a stern face for Tony and Peter. “No roughhousing, tonight, boys. I mean it.”

“I was just making a valid critique on my star pupil's decision to become the Personal Attorney to a well-known arms dealer, is all,” Tony defended. He threw up his hands and drew up an innocent expression that might have worked had it not looked so derisive.

Pepper, pursing her lips, nodded sagely. “Right. Okay. So you were being an ass?”

“Pep!” Tony protested incredulously. Peter didn’t even try to hide his triumphant smirk.

You rolled your eyes in defeat. Oil and water can never mix, no matter how hard you try. No, Tony did not take the news of you becoming Peter’s PA well, and he’s made sure to rake you over the coals bout it every time the chance arises. You’ve been Peter’s attorney coming up on two years, and there’s not a sign from either of them that the grudge will ever be let go, not even for your sake, though they do try when threatened.

“I want you two to say something nice to each other and then let the rest of the night go on in peace. Go ahead,” Pepper ordered, indicating for Tony to go first.

Tony took in an excessive amount of air, then puffed it out. “Alright, Parker. Um… I like how you ostensibly don’t know the rules to a Black Tie Event.” He ended with a gesture to Peter’s lack of a bowtie. The poor thing lies in a mangled heap on the floor of the limousine.

Peter ticked up his eyebrow. “I like how the stick up your ass seems to reach new heights every time we speak, Stark.”

Pepper sighed and grabbed Tony’s arm. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but I’ll take what I can get. Come on, you. There are many more guests to greet.” She tugged him along, throwing you an apologetic smile over her slim shoulder as they walked away.

Almost out of earshot, you could hear Tony say, “He calls himself Deus, for Christ's sake!”

They left you two in heated silence. Peter refused to meet your glare, instead choosing to chug down the freshly set out champagne flute filled with Vodka. He immediately flushed as he poured himself another glass full.

“Peter—” you started.

“Don’t say it. I tried, alright?” He slumped against the back of his seat, then shot you a surly frown. “You didn’t even mention our engagement to him. Again.”

You looked down at your untouched food, suddenly not hungry.

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Were you ever going to tell him?”

An anchor of guilt plummeted to the pit of your stomach, chasing away the desire to eat anything for the next few hours. Your answer came out sounding whittled and nearly swallowed by the music. “Pepper knows.”

“And that tells me all I need to know,” said Peter, pushing away from the table and taking the bottle of Vodka with him.

You tried to stamp down the rise of startled panic by clearing your throat and evenly asking, “Where are you going?” A high octave managed to slip in on the last word.

“To socialize. Play some cards. Place a few bets. Criminal stuff. You want in?” He didn’t wait for you to answer, moving further and further away as a wave of hot anger replaced your shame. “Oh, my bad. Sorry. I forgot you probably don’t want your mentor seeing you ruin your perfect image with, what was it? The likes of me?”

He swaggered off, not a mere hint of his hurt evident in his show of arrogance.

You gingerly sat back in your seat, careful to ignore the inquiring stares from those who caught most of the argument. Your nails came close to puncturing your palms, and if your jaw clamped any tighter, it would snap. An annoying, persistent inner voice chimed out, He’s right, you know. It was probably Ned.

You understood Peter enough to know that Tony not being clued in on your engagement wounded him. He told everyone in his life about you—told Aunt May the second you finally agreed to go on that first date with him, nearly shouted to all the rooftops in Queens “SHE SAID YES!” when he proposed three months ago. Yet here you are, dragging your heels on telling Tony, one of the most influential people in your life, that you’re marrying the love of your life. He wouldn’t understand. Or, rather, he would, and he’d abhor your decision.

You’re not sure you could ever explain to Tony how Peter is your favorite star in the night sky. A big, glowing ball of light you spend hours upon hours admiring and appreciating. One that just burns brighter than all the rest.

Your engagement ring sparkled at you, winking as you moved it side to side and marveled at the simple yet elegant details of the inlaid sapphires and diamonds. Peter told you he picked it out a week before the proposal, but you knew he carried it around in his pocket for months, biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. When he asked, you couldn’t say yes fast enough. At that moment, Tony and his aversion to Peter never crossed your mind, but it’s lingered ever since.

Guilt returned as a salve for your anger.

“Trouble in paradise?” asked a woman sitting at your table, a slight accent in her voice. She appears to be young, almost too young to be at this function. The glimmer in her eye and the hitch in her smile denoted a wise person. Goddess braids sat on top of her head like a crown, and she’s wearing a simple black dress with pearl studs that nicely accentuates her dark brown skin.

You uncurled your hands and blew out a held-in breath, kindly smiling back. “Something like that.”

She held out a hand. “Shuri Udaku.”

That name came with an inkling of recognition, but you couldn’t quite place it. You shook hands with the young woman, giving her your name. When you momentarily looked at your clasped hands, your eyes dropped down to catch the jewelry on her wrist. They weren’t pearls like her earrings. They were onyx and emblazoned with ivory symbols on each bead: Kimoyo beads, a technological revolution currently sweeping the nation, manufactured only by one woman. The realization hit you hard. “Hold on a second. The Shuri Udaku? Founder of Vibranium Tech, Shuri Udaku?”

“The one and only,” she answered, her smile growing wider.

This confirmation launched you into a field of questions and acknowledgments. It turns out she knows of your work as New York’s youngest attorney, but you know a bit more about her line of work because Peter always voiced his interest in her growing business. On the surface, Vibranium Tech is like any other technology company, issuing out new and improved ways of communication and medical treatment. In the underground, there’s been rumors of her interest in creating weapons—technological weapons unlike any the arms dealing business has seen before.

You didn’t want to bring up that facet of knowledge just yet. The normal conversation worked wonders on you, loosening your tense muscles and clamped jaw, all of them singing sweet relief once your body naturally released the tension.

“So, did I hear Tony correctly when he said your partner is the Deus?”

You winced and found yourself searching the room for a glimpse of your fiancé. He’s commandeered a table in the back of the venue, showing off his black and gold deck of playing cards to a group of interested guests itching to play a hand.

“Yeah, that would be him.”

“That’s so badass,” Shuri mused, leaning in conspiratorially. “Is he like the mob bosses in TV shows and movies? Like does he have henchmen? Bad-temper? High-speed car chases with the police?”

You genuinely laughed. “Not exactly. Henchmen, kind of. Bad temper is rare. And he’d never shut up about having a high-speed car chase with the police. No, he’s a little more lowkey than all that.”

Long ago, back when you were innocent to the life Peter led, you assumed that that’s precisely what it entailed—an exhilarating life of high stakes, exorbitant amounts of money, strong-armed goons, and reckless shoot-outs. That might be the case for a few bosses, but not Peter. He’s too strategic, and the ins-and-outs of his trade are too complicated to pin on just one person.

“Well, I, um…” she stopped, considered her words. You unconsciously drew in closer. “I may have a business offer for him.”

You kept your smile on, but it felt more commercial-like than friendly. “What type of offer?”

Shuri gulped down a generous amount of her red wine, then darted her eyes side to side before speaking lowly. “Would he be interested in high powered weapons?”

You raised your eyebrows but kept up your cool front. “Depends. In exchange for what?”

“Protection.”

A voice in your ear announced, “He’s here.”

You ignored it, focusing on Shuri. “From who?”

Shuri peeked around again to make sure no one paid any attention to your private conversation, but her examination stopped at the entrance. “From him.”

You cautiously slid your eyes to the main entrance, heart hammering a thunderous rhythm in your chest.

Brock Rumlow. Peter's rival and leader of a group named the Scorpions. A peddler/enforcer for the East Coast's largest mob: Hydra. Of course he’d try to pressure Shuri for the weapons.

He didn’t come dressed according to the occasion, opting for his usual tight-fitted black Tee and gray tactical pants. The visible half of his tattoo, a scorpion’s tail curling out from the cuff of his shirt, stood out against his tan skin. Two other men stood behind him, wearing almost identical clothes to Rumlow and sporting the same scorpion tattoo on their right bicep, not exactly hiding that they carried concealed weapons. All the voices in the room hollowed out to stiff silence, and even the band took its cue to halt. Your eyes found Tony in time to see his jaw tick for the briefest moment, and then he slid right back into a restrained version of his good cheer.

“Hey, hey! This is still a party, people,” Tony called out, addressing the guests. “Eat, talk, have a good time.” He signaled to the band to pick up the music, then crossed the room to chat with Rumlow. You’ve never seen him so keyed up.

You touched Shuri’s hand comfortingly, not taking your eyes off Rumlow. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She deflated gratefully. “Thank you.”

You nodded, already out of your seat and rushing to the back of the room, stopping short once you arrived at Peter’s table. He’s thoroughly invested in this round of poker, glancing back and forth from his cards to the nervous twitches of the five men and one woman at the table. You recognized four of them: Judge Nicholas Fury, Lieutenant Steve Rogers, Manhattan’s Chief of Police Sam Wilson, and District Attorney Natasha Romanoff. Sweat is perspiring on Steve’s forehead, Sam’s leg can’t stop bouncing up and down, and even Natasha, a woman known for keeping her cool while in the line of fire, is chewing on her lower lip. Fury's not fazed. He just seems tapped out.

From what you can estimate, about six hundred dollars lies in the middle of the table.

Sam and Steve speak at the same time. “I’m out.”

The other men followed suit, muttering their defeat. Fury dropped his cards down on the table facedown.

Peter wickedly grinned, zeroing in on Natasha. “Got any last words?”

Natasha squinted her eyes at his taunt. “Kiss my ass, Parker.” She put her cards down face up, showing her hand, and quirked up an eyebrow that dared him to top that: three Queens and a pair of twos. Full House.

Peter laid down his hand. Four 3’s and an ace. Four of a Kind.

A chorus of fucks circled the group as Peter cleared the table of the crumpled bills. Two new bottles of opened Vodka sit on the table as well, along with seven shot-glasses. Steve’s glass remains untouched, but the others look like they’ve drained two shots each.

“Bucky’s gonna kill me for losing so much money,” Steve muttered, twirling around his wedding band.

Sam sadly shook his head. “Dammit, man. I thought we had him this time, too.” He eyed Peter with suspicion. “What you got, kid? X-Ray vision?”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, causing a few curls to escape its sleek style. “Nah, jus’ luck.”

“Yeah, well, here’s to hoping your luck runs out,” said Fury, raising his shot glass and slamming it back.

You inched closer to Peter’s side. He reeked of alcohol, and his eyes are glazed over. You wonder how he’s even capable of sitting up, let alone playing people out of their money.

“Peter,” you whispered, putting your hand on his shoulder. His muscles tensed, but he didn’t shake you off. “Rumlow’s here.”

The remaining people at the table began to disperse in a collective gripe of loss. Peter didn’t say anything, only jerked his head in acknowledgment.

Your hand itched to slap him back into reality. “Peter, baby, listen. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I should have told Tony about our engagement.” Desperation sapped into your words. “It was stupid and childish not to, and as soon as I get the chance, I’ll tell him. But for the love of God, this is not the time to—”

“Well, well, well! Look who we got here! Deus, in the flesh!” boomed a disturbingly baritone voice. Rumlow, shadowed by his two men, plopped down in one of the empty chairs, sitting right across from Peter. He glanced at Peter first, then languorously landed his gaze on you. “And who’s this pretty lady you got here?”

“My fiancée,” answered Peter monotonously. He said it as if the words synonymously meant: just some chick. A dull kind of ache slashed through your chest as you dropped your hand back down to your side and took two steps away from him.

Rumlow pretended to miss the interaction, appearing to be in deep thought, and then clapped his hands once. “Oh! The attorney. I don’t believe I ever formally introduced myself.” He offered his large hand to you, grinning with his whole teeth on display. “Name’s Brock Rumlow.”

You reluctantly let him take your outstretched hand. His skin is blazing hot, to the point where your hand nearly felt suffocated. He brought it to his lips for a small kiss that twisted your stomach in knots. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Rumlow.”

Rumlow winked. “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart. And call me Brock.”

“Fuck do you want, Rumlow?” Peter bit out, picking the cards up off the table and shuffling them.

“Ooh,” tsked Rumlow. He made sure to lay another grin on you just to irk Peter. “Come on, Parker. Can’t a guy just enjoy some company once in a while? It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong.” He watched Peter’s movements, the cards haphazardly sliding back and forth from one hand to the next. “Playing cards, huh? You up for a quick game?”

You butt in with a pressed laugh. “Actually, we were just leaving.” Drunk Peter is overly confident. If Rumlow found that out, you knew he’d take Peter for everything he’s worth.

“So soon?” Rumlow glanced down at his watch. “It’s not even ten yet. What’s the rush?”

Peter cut you off. “No rush. I’m staying. You play Draw Poker?”

“ ‘Course I play Draw Poker, but that seems too simple for you, Parker. Don’t you wanna make it hard for me? A little Texas Hold ’em?”

“Draw Poker,” said Peter, splitting the deck against the table and flexing the cards enough to have them rapidly collapse into place. “Take it or leave it.”

A dark, mischievous smile brewed on Rumlow’s face as he watched Peter fumble with the deck and, at some point, entirely losing his grip. You discreetly watched him size up his opponent, dismayed to find that he likes the assessment. Hair is stubbornly falling into Peter’s eyes, eyes that anyone a mile away could point out are bleary and bloodshot. The flush from earlier deepened on his neck and flashed scarlet across his face—an easy target for a skilled player.

“Deal me in.”

The first game played out exactly as you feared it would. Rumlow and Peter agreed on a $100 ante to get the ball rolling, both pulling out a single bill from their pocket and placing it in the middle of the table, then they settled for a pot-limit. Though Peter’s shuffling skills lacked his usual finesse, he expertly dealt each of them a hand of five cards.

You leaned against the back wall with your arms crossed over your chest and watched the game unfold. Rumlow processes his hands at the speed of a bullet, snapping his eyes to his cards once he’s drawn, and immediately discards the ones he doesn’t like when it’s his turn. Other than the minutest crinkle in the corner of his left eye, you couldn’t tell when he felt confident or when he bluffed. He gave nothing away, not even an involuntary scratch to his five o’clock shadow. He was so in the zone he began to partake in the Vodka bottle close to his side of the table, swigging straight from the mouth.

On the other hand, Peter moved as if a millisecond was the equivalent length of ten years, scanning his cards more than several times with pursed lips, looking up at Rumlow, scanning his cards again, once, twice, three times, then reluctantly discarding some. He frequently shoves a hand through his hair to keep it out of his eyesight, but the same unruly strands find their way back to impede his vision. He scratches the shell of his ear when he’s about to draw, and Rumlow’s picked up the tell.

Rumlow never even had to do more than call. The confident drunk in Peter always raised.

The pot increased to about $1400 before Peter folded his hand.

As Rumlow collected his winnings, he suggestively lifted his eyebrows at Peter. “Care for round 2?”

Confident drunk Peter never backs down, even when he’s the dumbass who can’t remember that he’s brought fists to a gunfight.

You step back up to the table and put a restrictive hand on Peter’s wrist to keep him from picking up the cards. “Enough, Peter. You’re done. Let’s go home.”

“No, I’m not done,” he said, snatching his arm away from your touch. “Go talk to Tony or somethin’. I’ve got this.”

Rumlow caught your bewildered stare and shrugged his broad shoulders, a gesture that didn’t match his cocky smile. He has Peter right where he wants him, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him because Peter is a willing participant running on alcohol and no critical judgment.

You should have left right then and there, but your feet stayed rooted to the floor. You couldn’t leave Peter like this. Sighing, you pulled up a chair to the table and sat beside Peter.

“Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on him,” said Rumlow, putting on a smile too sardonic to be comforting. Too artificial to be genuine.

His lie didn’t surprise you. The hole Peter dug himself did.

The second round went similarly to the first. Flash decisions from Rumlow and molasses-like contemplation from Peter. This time, though, the ante came up to $200. As far as you knew, Peter is only carrying about $2500 in his pockets.

By the time the fourth round started, Peter’s Rolex lies on the table. The ante is up to $1000. Somehow the pot-limit became no-limit.

By the fifth round, Peter made paperless bets. Ante is $10,000. Rumlow knew Peter’s pockets went deep, and he’d keep at it until he struck gold.

Nothing you said stopped him. Peter hadn’t won a single hand. He’s desperate for at least one good hand; he’s got something to prove.

Rumlow kept drinking with each win.

By the seventh round, a crowd is around the table, watching in horrified interest as Peter raises the bet to one million dollars. The most significant amount you’ve ever seen him bet. So far, he’s held this hand for three draws.

Peter’s hair lost all semblance of its previous style, hanging over his forehead in disarray. He’s hunched over in his chair, his jacket’s off, and he’s rolled up his dress shirt’s sleeves to his elbows. His group’s signature tattoo stands out stark against his inner wrist: a roughly sketched spider.

Rumlow, eyes now as bloodshot as Peter’s and face just as flushed under his tan skin, asks, “Think you got something, Parker?”

“Do you?” Peter countered.

“I just might.” Rumlow ran a finger against his bottom lip, then smiled at his hand. “Why don’t you say we make this last Showdown a little more interesting, eh?”

A terrible queasiness wrapped around your gut.

Peter listened intently, his silence Rumlow’s indication to continue.

“$10 million. And the best trading routes. Including foreign connections. I want everything you got.”

You turned to Peter, placing your hand on top of his until he finally looked at you. Your eyes begged him to listen to you for once tonight. “Please don’t do this.”

His reply sounded tortured. “But I can. I have to.”

“Is winning really worth losing everything?” you asked, your voice cracking.

Rumlow chuckled ominously. “Oh, that’s not everything, sweetheart. We both know what’s left.” He gave you a meaningful stare.

Your eyes widened in disgust.

Peter snapped his gaze to Rumlow. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“No, but I want her. Imagine having New York’s best attorney in my arsenal. How many charges has she saved your sorry ass from, Parker? Five? All felonies, right? You lucky son of a bitch.” Rumlow’s smile is sinister. “Not that lucky tonight, huh?”

Peter spoke through gritted teeth. “Back off, Rumlow.”

“To have Deus wrapped around her finger, she must be pretty damn good. Is she, Parker?” goaded Rumlow, ignoring Peter’s warning. “Is she any good?”

Instinct controlled your hands as they seized Peter’s cards before he launched himself over the table and landed an ear-splitting blow to Rumlow’s jaw. Rumlow must’ve known the punch was coming. Still, he hadn’t expected the impact to be that forceful because his eyes blinked in astonishment. The two men behind Rumlow didn’t react fast enough, missing Peter as he stood above Rumlow, grabbed the handgun hidden in the waist of his pants and pressed the muzzle deep into Rumlow’s temple, finger on the trigger.

Rumlow shifted his eyes up to Peter. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Peter’s voice is lethally calm. “Say one more goddamn word about her and you’re dead.”

“Put that gun down, Parker!”

Tony. Shit.

Peter squared his jaw, never taking his eyes off of Rumlow. About six off-duty policemen and the venue’s guards have their weapons trained on Peter.

“I said put the gun down! Now!” Tony had pushed his way through the crowd, Sam and Steve right behind him. You didn’t notice until now how quiet the room became, everyone holding in a collective breath.

“Put it down, son,” Steve gently ordered. He spied Rumlow’s men, their hands tightened on their guns, and shook his head. “Don’t even think about it.”

Peter didn’t move a muscle. His chest rapidly rises and falls with each breath.

Sam, holding a pair of cuffs in his hand, tried getting through to him. “It’s over. Drop the gun, kid.”

A slow grin spread across Rumlow’s face.

“Peter,” you spoke softly.

His red-rimmed eyes met yours.

“Everything’s gonna be alright. Just put the gun down, okay? Please.”

Two heartbeats passed before his grip on the gun slackened, and he begrudgingly lowered his arm.

Steve and Sam seized on the opportunity. Steve disarmed Peter while Sam restrained Peter’s arms behind his back and tightened the cuffs around his wrists.

Rumlow massaged his injured jaw. “Guess that means I win, Parker.”

Sam yanked Peter back before he could charge at Rumlow. When Peter looked your way, he saw you still held his cards. “I’m still in play.”

“Wait,” you protested. Sam began to guide Peter up to the entrance. “Peter, I can’t—”

He nodded his head furiously, talking over his shoulder as Sam lead him away. “Yes, you can. You know you can, baby. Play the hand.”

You stared helplessly at Peter’s retreating form. It was all on you.

Rumlow watched, unperturbed; his cards still held tight in the hand that wasn’t nursing his jaw.

Slowly, you lowered yourself down into Peter’s chair, sitting directly across from Rumlow’s smirking face. Tony stared at you incredulously. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him rendered speechless. The room’s chatter never recovered, either. All eyes stay glued towards the standoff.

The game is in your hands. Exactly as planned.

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #mob!peter parker #peter parker au #mob!au #marvel fanfic #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x reader #black female reader #the fall of deus #peter parker x black reader #black reader

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spiritedmyway · 3 years ago

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Veronica Decides to Die part 2

Summary: A mediocre girl attempts to suicide but things don’t go as planned.

Pairing: Reader x Dazai Osamu

Genre: adventure, eventual romance and um... detective?

A/N: English is not my native language and I’m very self-conscious about that :/ I’ve never written anything in English, so pleease give me feedback (but in a nice and fluffy way).

Part one

We’re reached part two, yay!

Dazai’s apartment was compact, yet practical. It was a typical accommodation provided by the agency and consisted of a small hall, a kitchen, bathroom and a Japanese-style room which served as a living room by day and a bedroom by night. Veronica wasn’t particularly thrilled about staying at a stranger’s place but the explosion and her funds balance didn’t leave her much choice. Besides, Dazai was so insistent and courteous that she gave in.

Kunikida tried to protest against a man and a woman living under the same roof while not being in a serious relationship but Dazai brushed off his comments.

“You shouldn’t worry about the honor of this respectable young lady, Kunikida. I’d never as much as lay a finger on a woman without her consent. Besides, look at Atsushi and Kyoka, they live together and don’t do anything inappropriate” the tiger boy turned red.

“Dazai, I, um… don’t think we are that similar” he mumbled.

Nevertheless, Veronica accepted Dazai’s offer which exhilarated him and quite disappointed Kunikida, so that he even scribed a few lines in his small green book about declining morals of the agency.

That’s how Veronica found herself in Dazai’s apartment. It could’ve been described as neat or pleasant, if it hadn’t been for all the books and pieces of paper chaotically scattered across the place. Veronica fleetingly suspected that her savior wasn’t such a wind headed man as he tried to look. “Welcome to my sweet home, Veronica-san” Dazai smiled charmingly “I hope you find it to your liking”

“Thank you, that’s very nice of you”

The woman took off the shoes Akiko lent her and followed her host as he showed her around.

When the brief tour was over, Veronica clearly felt what an eventful day she’d had.

“It’s getting late” stated Dazai, as if having read her mind. “Would you like to have a shower and I make a futon for you?”

“That’d be very nice” admitted Veronica. “But where will you sleep?”

“I have exactly the place” and he knocked on a tall closet built in a wall.

“Thank you, you’re going through so much trouble…”

“Ah, drop it. It’s no trouble at all,” Dazai gave her another of his charming smiles and Veronica suddenly felt quite at ease with her decision to stay at his place.

“Oh, one more thing, your clothes” and he pointed at the Veronica’s outfit “They’ve had better times”

The woman looked down at her t-shirt and pants and, indeed, they weren’t at their best. The right sleeve of the t-shirt was partly torn and partly soaked in blood and the pants, covered in dust, didn’t look any better.

“Would you like to wash them?”

“That’d be great. I think I could still save the pants. But…”

“I have a pajama.” He said understandingly. “it’s very nice and soft. You could sleep in it and by morning your clothes will be like new.”

“More or less” he added squinting at the sleeve of her t-shirt.

Veronica enthusiastically agreed and soon Dazai left the towels and the pajama in the bathroom and the woman entered it, undressed herself and tossed her old clothes behind the bathroom door for the man to take care of, as he’d suggested.

Feeling the hot, soothing water hit her skin was akin a redemption. Veronica just sat at the bottom of the bathtub pondering on the events of this wild day.

Not in a million years she would’ve guessed that her crazy suicide attempt would end up like that. That she’d be still alive and that she’d have survived a sudden explosion. The explosion. Who could have done it? And why? Was it aimed to kill her? And if so, who could do it and why? She wasn’t any kind of an important person, didn’t work in the government and wasn’t involved with the mafia, the two major powers of Yokohama. So, was she just an unfortunate victim? Maybe the target was someone else? Maybe the explosion wasn’t directed at her? At whom, then? And finally, where the hell did those damn lemons come from right before the explosion?

Too tired of so many frightening questions she couldn’t answer, she exhaled audibly and tried to put them aside until morning.

Her thoughts shifted to the man in the next room. Yet, another mystery. She was very grateful to Dazai for saving her from burning in extinguishing pain in the flames of the fire. She was undoubtedly grateful, but... He’d surprise and confuse her any time he opened his mouth. He was so charming – a bit too charming, even – in the strangest moments. Yet, Veronica felt that there was another, deeper layer of him. The one she fleetingly saw in his eyes when she made a decision to trust him back at the house. After all, all his strange remarks aside, she was lucky to have met him and he was nothing but kind to her. The appreciative feelings quickly vanished as Veronica came out of the bath and grabbed at the scrap of cloth Dazai left her. When he told her, he had a pajama she expected a big, warm, men’s pajama. But this… this was beyond any words.

It was a thin, short slip dress made of red silky material. Was this some kind of a silly joke?! Did Dazai really leave it for her to wear? That bastard…

Exasperated, she tossed the dress onto the floor and turned away. That crazy clown decided to mock her. Well, she’ll never play by his rules. Never!

Ten minutes later, the bathroom door slowly opened and Veronica came out. Her cheeks and ears burning and her expression revealing the deepest displeasure and irritation at the indecency of the predicament he’d put her in. The dress, too short and tight, seemed to reveal much more that she’d hoped even in the places where it actually covered her skin. Dazai had already laid a big futon in the center of the room and a smaller one in the closet and was now sitting on the floor in his own decent black pajama set. A book in his hands. He looked up from the book as Veronica entered the room. His eyes instantly sparkled, eagerly studying all the details of the woman’s figure, and his mouth broke into a satisfied smile. “You look so beautiful, Veronica-chan…” he wanted to continue but Veronica’s icy glance made him prudently quiet down.

“Is that what you call a pajama?” she asked coldly. “That’s the softest one in my closet. Besides, it’s the only female one I have” “Where did you even get it?” “It was a gift” he shrugged casually. “Oh… I see,” Veronica couldn’t hide her confusion and… disappointment? “I’m going to sleep” and with that she sank to the futon and promptly covered her body with sheets. “Good night, Dazai”

“Good night, Veronica-chan, sweet dreams”

He turn off the lights and went to his own sleeping place.

The day was very exhausting and the new futon was soft and warm. The room temperature perfect and the silence absolute. And yet…

Veronica loudly exhaled as she gave up turning and tossing trying to catch some sleep.

“Dazai” she called quietly, not expecting the man to be awake.

“Hm?” came from the closet.

In the darkness of the night Veronica suddenly understood something. “I never really said… thank you. For saving me”

“Not at all,” he answered softly.

“I mean it… you came forward even though you didn’t know me and you didn’t have to help me”

“Do you think I could really leave you there? In the fire?”

Silence followed.

“Well…” she turned to the closet and stared at its closed door, “you could”

“You know me too bad, then” he mumbled. “But I also don’t know you.” His tone suddenly changed. “You were so secretive back at the agency, didn’t share anything with us. Not even your surname”

“That’s true,” admitted Veronica. “What would you like to know?”

“Anything would do”

“Hmm, ok. My surname is Shimura and my birthday is on 15 March. I’m an Aries and my favorite color is… ”

“Veronica-chan” interrupted Dazai. “That’s not exactly what I meant” after a moment’s stop he continued “I know, I’ll reveal mine if you reveal yours!”

“What?!” snapped Veronica

“The secret, of course! What did you think of, Veronica-chan?” she didn’t need to see him to feel that cheeky smile of his.

“Nothing” promptly brushed off the woman. “I agree. But you go first”

“Hmm, fine. I’ll oblige since it was my idea. I had a friend…” he started” a good one. We used to drink at a bar and chat about everything and nothing together. It’s he who taught me to help people whenever I could... He died a few years ago. But before that he actually saved my life. He led me away from a really dark place…”

“He seemed like a very good man” quietly replied Veronica.

“Yes, he was…” he exhaled. And then his tone changed “Now it’s your turn”

Sharing her secret wasn’t Veronica’s initial plan, but the shadows were so dark and her burden so heavy, and Dazai seemed so cordial and sincere at that moment, that she gave in. In any case, she could always blame it on a bad dream in the morning.

“I have an ability… it’s difficult to believe but I… I can cause immediate pain to anyone I touch. Almost like an electroshock you could say. Sometimes I can control it, but other times, especially if I’m angry or sad… it can be too much.”

Dazai didn’t utter a word so she continued.

“When I was a child, I had a dog. A nice plump beagle called Poncho. He was so loyal and cute, the dream dog really. One day, we were playing in the yard and I was so excited that I wanted to hug him and suddenly… let’s just say it didn’t end well for Poncho. That’s how this ability first showed itself… soon after that, my parents started to fight. They didn’t show it but I know it was because of me. They divorced soon after and my father grabbed the first opportunity to work abroad while my mother remarried and said that at seventeen I was big enough to live alone.” “I see,” he said slowly, “I thought it’d be something like that. It all makes sense now” “You don’t think that I’m crazy?”

“No,” he smiled audibly “I think you’re so green, Vronica-chan”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see, soon enough. Tomorrow, in fact”

“Huh?”

Dazai ignored her confusion and tossed on his futon. Suddenly, a shocking idea struck Veronica’s mind.

“Dazai!” she called. “When you saved me from the fire, I touched you with my bare hands and you didn’t feel any pain. How is it possible?”

“Hmm, maybe I got lucky?” he asked lightheartedly. The answer clearly didn’t satisfy Veronica. “Dazai, I’m serious” “Veronica-chan, touches of a beautiful lady can only hurt me if they are directed at another man” “You’re impossible!” Veronica rolled her eyes as Dazai chuckled at her words.

“Now I suggest we try to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be your first day at work and first days are always so difficult, you know”

“Alright” Veronica accepted disappointedly. “Good night, Dazai”

“Good night, Veronica-chan”

#dazai x reader #dazai x fem reader #dazai x oc #dazai fanfic #dazai x you #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #bsd fanfiction #bsd x you #bsd dazai #bsd writing

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aria-i-adagio · 3 years ago

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@atypicalacademic Thanks for the tag! I have a story for you!

Three Ships: Okay so, a few years ago, while I was still teaching high school, I’d use Google Forms and a script to collect and grade tests, plus two or three extended answer questions on paper. To get the script to work correctly, I had to add “filler” questions on the form, so I’d usually put in something funny that the kids could answer or not.

Now, I was not the geekiest teacher in the school. (Another teacher with a love of MCU saved me from that title, but only just.) But I was the second or third geekiest teacher. Anyway, one day, as I was thinking up funny filler questions, I decided that for the honors class only it would be entertaining to see what sort of answers I get to the question: What is your favorite Star Wars ship?

Yes, the two different ways that question can be answered was part of the point. And remember, the filler questions are optional. And this is already the class where when we have quizbowl style review days, one group consistently names themselves the ‘Hiddlestons’ and the friends in said group have this well-organized fantasy polycule relationship with Loki mapped out, which honestly, is quite mature of them.

But it’s Star Wars and these are the honors kids, we should be able to keep this school appropriate, right? And it’s just ship names.

As expected, I get a lot of X-wings, a few IDKs, HanLeia (BORING), LukeLeia, Han and Lando, Tie Fighters, one or two AnakinxPadmes, Luke and Chewbacca (um.... But, okay), one Stormpilot (that kid has taste), a couple Reylo shippers. It’s going like I thought it would. The students who want to are having a good time teasing each other gently, and the ones who think (correctly) that the geometry teacher is touched in the head type in IDC, and go on with their lives.

Now, the part where I clearly did not think through the consequences of my actions.

“[Last name here], what’s your favorite ship?”

Friends, I can spin a yarn, but I can not tell a lie on the spot. I proceed to reenact (appropriately) the geometry formula meme, reviewing the typical AO3 ratings for my favorite SW ship.

Friends, I ship Kylux. Soft Kylux. But it’s still Kylux.

I finally lie, weakly, LukeWedge, which I do also ship.

No one believes me. The Hiddlestons - invested in discovering the truth - proceed to play twenty questions and watch my facial expressions carefully.

I reminded them that they should not lie and click the “I am over 18” online.

Shockingly, this did not come back to haunt me.

Clearly, I’m currently deep in Handers hell. ;)

And Margaret Wells/Nancy Birch breaks my heart in the best way. But I also love Margaret and North, and Nancy and North’s friendship. Mags has two hands. (Neither up to any good.)

Last Song I Listened To: The Doors, “Touch Me”

Last Movie I Watched: Still haven’t finished Only Lovers Left Alive

Currently Watching: Star Trek: Voyager

Currently Craving: Nothing, really. (Take my meds before brain does telling me that it’s craving a couple of chemicals with a severe headache. Remember to take your meds as prescribed and drink water, kids.)

Currently Reading: Life Isn’t Binary: On Being Both, Beyond, and In-Between

Tagging: @pinkfadespirit, @hoochieblues, @motherofqups, @the-iron-orchid, @niffty24 (only if you care to)

#ask meme answers #aria on a tangent

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purplerose244 · 4 years ago

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I don’t care

Hi!! This is my fic for the @ninjago-valentine-exchange!! Thank you so much for organizing this, I really had fun writing this! 🥰

Special thank also to @nightlybirdie for the lovely fanart I got to respond to! It’s such an adorable little comic! 😍 I thought making a songfic about the same song you choose would have been fitting, since it really is very Lava like ❤🖤❤🖤

Here we go! Enjoy!! 😊

Summary: It's just another celebration party after all, Cole should be used to feeling left out.

Turns out, someone is very not okay with that.

Also on the AO3

We’re at a party we don’t wanna be at

Trying to talk but we can’t hear ourselves

Red your lips I’d rather kiss ‘em right back

With all these people all around I’m crippled with anxiety

It wasn’t that Cole hated parties.

Although it wasn’t that he loved them either.

“… so thank you again, ninja!” Tipping his hat, the police commissioner finally finished his speech, one that after such a long time spent with them fighting crime and evil beings – like ten years or something? – was starting to sound vaguely repetitive. “Now, without further ado, let us begin this celebration party! To honor our saviors!” The crowd cheered, all the police members bowed at them, and it was finally time to forget about the danger and relax.

… right.

Alright, the black ninja wasn’t a party-pooper – he wasn’t never going to give Jay that satisfaction. There were of course great pros about being here after all, starting from the fact that the very reason there was such a big event in the first place was because they had saved the city once again – he needed to remind Lloyd to bring the sign ‘days Ninjago City wasn’t attacked’ back to zero. This was a celebration in their honor, a thank you for their determination and commitment and for keeping their world safe every time. He could see familiar faces into the crowd, having fun, enjoying the peace that once again so difficulty they had managed to regain.

The music was nice. Nowhere near his usual choice, and he knew he was going to grab his headphones and blast soft rock at full volume as soon as they were back at the monastery, but nice nonetheless – relaxing too… oh… oh, no, no dozing off. His friends were all there, dancing, talking, perfectly in tune with the festive atmosphere.

Oh, there was also a buffet, that was nice. It was also an extremely generous one, with tarts, sandwiches, shrimps and so on, one that could make even Zane’s nindroid mouth water. The black ninja himself had finished his recognition at the table, even though he had ended up with a glass of whatever while standing on the side of the ballroom. All he knew was that it was sparkling and slightly bitter. Not really his taste.

Nothing felt like his taste right now… but that went beyond his beverage choice.

He tried to widen his collar, for the fifth time in the last hour. He should’ve known better than borrowing a suit from his father, besides their obvious different sizes. Even beyond the blatant reality that being the master of earth pulled out muscles that a dancer just didn’t have, it was the most irritating reminder of the time he had spent trying to meet his pa’s expectations by joining a quartet. It had been a while since that matter had been solved, there was no point into sulking over it. There were more important matters ahead.

His finger went to his collar. Sixth time. Great.

Was he the only one holding on instead of having fun? Again?

One impressively loud laugh shook his from his thoughts, and he didn’t have to look to recognize Jay, near their latest used-to-be-enemy-but-now-they’re-our-pal. Great, someone must have asked what happened during their adventure, there was no way Motor Mouth would have missed the opportunity to vent – as long as his obnoxiously talkative nature didn’t bring their new friend back to the evil path. Right next Zane was showing off his dancing skills, that familiar endearing view that probably involved his famous funny switch. Or not, that nindroid was lovable no matter what after all. From the resigned but fond smirk of Pixal, leaning against the wall not far while watching the robot making a spectacle of himself, he wasn’t the only one thinking that.

Lloyd had been kidnapped by a few reporters of the NGTV, although despite the awkward atmosphere he looked like he could handle himself – which wasn’t new, man that kid was indestructible. And even though he was confident that Nya was not the biggest fan of formal clothes just like himself, like the pro she was she knew exactly how to deal both with her dress and the people crowding around her. Besides, she deserved a bit of spotlight.

His friends were having fun, that made the master of earth happy unconditionally. Although he would have liked to share that light-heartedness, or simply being willing to let himself go for once. Well, they were doing fine, he could end this and finally go home by himse-

Wait. No. Something wasn’t right.

Where was that? Where was the crowd of people getting consistently louder and more insistent the closest they got to their red hero? Where was the never-ending flirty attitude that was almost a main characteristic of the master of fire? Where was the improvised meeting of the Kai fan club happening every single time they ended an adventure, like these screaming admirers had been silently waiting for the end to end just to see their diva?

A shiver caught him. Surprise? Confusion? Relief? Cole wasn’t quite sure, he just knew that there was no massive amount of chocolate hair nowhere in the ballroom. A pinch in his chest made his back straighten up. He took the slightest sip of his drink, grimacing at the taste.

Then, someone shouldered him. Wow, silent as a ninja. Then again, it wasn’t hard at this point recognizing his teammates without looking.

Especially someone as warm as him.

“Apologies my good sir, but it looks like we’re in quite the predicament over here.” Yep, he could see Kai’s smirk in the corner of his vision, moving up his mouth with that little dimple on the corner. “This is very clearly a party-fever, non-sulking area. You better correct your behavior, or I will be forced to take drastic measures.” Kai stuck out his tongue as he cracked his knuckles, despite himself Cole couldn’t help half a laugh.

Only half, because this guy could be very irritating when trying to push his reasons on others – the cow yak predicament between him and Jay was never going to be forgotten and was actually brought up again every once in a while. Only half… because there was something mesmerizing at seeing the reckless master of fire getting cleaned up in a classy and refined suit. White immaculate shirt. Perfectly stirred jacket. That little red bow over his neck, because if this guy didn’t like to show off that red was his color on every occasion then the Overlord was a good guy.

You could say a lot about the red ninja, really a lot.

Not having style? Not between that – of course his ego didn’t need to know this.

The black ninja huffed, catching himself before he let his eyes lingering on him for too long – thank you master Wu, poor unaware sensei probably didn’t know his meditation lesson were being used to hide a crush.

“Drastic measures as kick me out? Because first, I would like to see you try.” Kai was strong, but not earth strong, thank you very much. “And second, I can leave on my own, thank you.”

Another shoulder. Much quicker than the other.

“Nah huh, this is also a very restricted non-ditching area.” Now he was cornered. Which wasn’t much because it was only Kai and his mischievous look. Also it was Kai and his mischievous look. “You either have fun and enjoy yourself, or security will escort you to prison in a conga line.”

“Really?” The hothead dared to shrug, like this made-up nonsense was a fact and these ‘laws’ were beyond him. “You don’t have to be a bringer of justice here too, just leave me be a solitary public figure for five more minutes before leaving.” A little frown moved his scarred eyebrows, which looked a little too knowing for some reason. “Besides, don’t you have a fan club to return to? I’m not seeing brown wigs twice your head moving around, that’s worrying.” A third shove, this time the black ninja let out a proper laugh. The red ninja’s hair only got crazier and crazier since they met, and it was always funny.

Endearing, too… dang it feelings!

The master of fire crossed his arms over his chest, pouting yet smiling.

“I can have a party without getting assaulted by my fans, you know? Besides, it’s been a while since we had a proper celebration, I wanna be with my team for once.” It was surprising and also very not. Kai was that much of an egomaniac, he loved the attention; but he loved his family even more, and it was true that they didn’t get much time to enjoy simply be united – trying to survive a villain while experiencing discoveries and development didn’t count as a relaxing bonding experience.

Cole gave a look at the crowd. The others were all still there.

“I’ll give you that, should we call up the others then?”

“No no no, you don’t get out of the radar that easily!” Again with the grin, what was that dangerously pretty head of his plotting? He looked focused too, it was scary. “Cut loose, will ya? You always end up in the corner at these things, you could at least pretend like you wanna be here.”

The black ninja winced.

“Gosh, you sound like my dad.” He definitely didn’t want to think about his dad in front of his crush. “We’re not all social butterflies, okay? I’m fine being myself.”

“Oh that’s not it, you’re okay. You being you is amazing.” Was that flirtatious? Was that a random compliment? Dang it, Cole had known him for too long, he couldn’t tell the difference anymore! “But whenever we get to an event like this one you always look like you would rather go back fighting and it sucks. Not being much of a party person is fine, I just want you to have some fun that’s all.” Ah. There it was. Underneath the mocking, the arrogance and the flirts, was a guy that could fire up a group of ninja with the power alone of his blatantly sincere words. Being against the next reason Ninjago City needed to be rebuilt, or while trying to give a random party some meaning. “Besides, speaking of fans, I know you have some. You could improvise a convention too.” He gestured towards him with both hands, like he was presenting him for a talk show.

The master of earth grinned. His chest felt warm, as always. Curse this guy for being cute. Curse him for being here instead of somewhere else wowing some random guest, blessing him with his company. He was right about not being together enough. Cole did miss having peaceful times with his teammate… he had missed spending time with Kai.

But I’m told it’s where I’m supposed to be

You know what?

It’s kinda crazy coz I really don’t mind

When you make it better like that

He took another sip. Grimacing. He shook his head.

“My fan club is nowhere near as wide as yours.”

“It’s not a challenge you know… although if it was, we all know who would win…” The red ninja flexed his arm. The jacket moved accordingly, showing off results of a training that even without involving massive rocks looked still impressive.

Cole swallowed over a sudden dry throat, only to frown.

“Huh… Lloyd?”

Kai blinked and sulked down altogether.

“Lloyd indeed.” They looked at each other and laughed.

The previous song slowly faded, a new rhythm took over. To Cole’s relief, it was something less ballet-like and more vivacious, capturing a few couple and individuals into the ballroom to enjoy the music. Jay was showing off impressive dancing skills, although him coming out of nowhere with a new ability wasn’t unheard of – roller skating, skiing, how did he even have free time to learn where he would always invent and eat junk food? Nya wasn’t too far behind, crossing path with Zane and improvising something together, laughing all the way. Lloyd was about to shake his head with a snicker and step away, only to have Pixal push him in with a little grin.

It was so peaceful. Them having fun, enjoying themselves, doing something other than risking their own lives and protect the land. They were the moments the black ninja loved the most.

Kai was humming himself, smiling just as widely. Cole chuckled warmly.

“You look like a very proud father.”

The red ninja arched an eyebrow and smirked.

“Wouldn’t you like that, honey.” Oh dang it, was he for real?! Was that a flirt?! Was that a little blush or for the master of fire having red over him was as natural as igniting flames?? Was he going somewhere with this, help, abort, something, anything! “We should chime in and join Zane and Jay, make a reprise of the Blade Cup Tournament! I remember the choreography still, bet we could show it to Nya, Lloyd and Pixal too.” Alright, never mind, false alarm… possibly, again, it was confusing.

Cole took another sip. It possibly tasted worse at every try, he didn’t even know why he was holding the glass still. At least he looked refined… or something.

“No way, I’m not going through that again.”

“Oh come on, I thought you got over your dancing complex with the Triple Tiger Sashay.” Kai shrugged, looking at him right into the eyes. “You dance good too, it’s a waste.” Was he in vain of compliments today or he was silently mocking him through an elaborated plan?

… nah, he wasn’t one to make complicated plans. He was a pretty face, and an airhead.

Cole shrugged.

“I don’t mind dancing, not as much as I used to at least. I even like it nowadays.” Having a hobby besides saving Ninjago was kind of important to not completely lose it – and playing videogames became a little too competitive once Jay or Lloyd got in the zone. “But it’s a little too connected to what my dad used to expect me to be and sometimes I don’t wanna even brush that thought.” They were good now, of course they were. But they spent time apart because of it. It was still hard to think about it. “… I don’t like to think that it would’ve been easier to just bear and go on. It makes me wonder what I would have become in that case, through tedious dancing lessons and failures.” Wow, his insecurities were put under a test, and there was no menace in sight for once.

Urgh, nope, not tonight, not after the mess they had been forced to fix for their city. Tonight it was about feeling light, thoughtless and happy. He needed a joke, a mockery, something, and while their official jokester wasn’t available Kai was the next best thing.

Any moment now… any moment now…

… okay now he was deliberately teasing him with those pretty eyes of his. He looked even sappy now, their shoulders were touching. He was so warm.

“It’s… kind of a scary thought, you know. Thinking of a you in a reality in which we haven’t met.” He smiled, one enigmatic, slightly worried smile that Cole couldn’t remember to have seen before. “But master Wu would’ve found you anyway, right? I don’t want to think of a world where we don’t know each other.” Because he was a precious teammate of his. “That’s not right in my head, I kinda hate it really.” Because they were too close as friends to even conceive it. “I’m just happy to have the strong, kind, incredible Cole by my side for this life.” Because he… cared. Because Kai cared about all the people in his life, all the precious members of his family.

That included him. As a… as…

The master of fire was staring at him, lips pressed tight together, burning cheeks and glimmering eyes. His face radiated heat, beyond the temperature itself; it was like an image so hot it got blurry, yet the beauty of it was nitid and flawless.

Cole was mesmerized. Then he slowly took a step back from his condition, finding the energic music fading away around them, and the red ninja still froze with his eyes on him.

It made him smile.

Having his attention always made him smile.

“Oh my gosh, it’s Kai!!” Because it wasn’t for granted and it wasn’t as easy as it was, back when they had started their legend as the ninja team. Now they were celebrities, and having a group of fans jumping excitedly in front of the brunette was ordinary administration. “Kai! You’re so cool, thank you for saving us again! You are our favorite ninja, can we get a picture? And a photo? Possibly both, if you can!” There were a couple of girls, one guy and a kid jumping from one foot to the other. All looking at ease and confident with their dresses and manners, addressing one of the heroes of this island.

Huh. The party had started to get nicer a few minutes ago, now it was back at being dull. Awkward. Uneasy. Solitary. Once again the too tight suit became very vivid, especially around his arms and chest. Once again the music, that had gone back at being slow and classic, got at his nerves. Once again he was being a spectator, looking at the scene like it was airing on television.

Kai was smiling naturally, he was more than used at that kind of attention. But his eyes were quick at focusing on him, and another little frown moved his forehead.

“Thanks for the support guys, but I’m a little busy right now…”

Cole rolled his eyes. He hated pity, so much. It felt like a slap right now.

“No you’re not idiot, come on, show your fans some respect. They get to see you without the city falling apart for a change!” The group nodded eagerly, eyes brightening the room. The red ninja wasn’t looking at them, his eyes were fixed on his teammate and it was even more irritating. “I’ll be at the buffet if you need me, have fun.” He looked hurt. What right did he have to get hurt? From what even? The master of earth was the one casted aside, for a change!

He walked away from the scene, losing Kai’s voice between excited shouts and squeaks from the group. Like that was new, it was always the serious, uncharismatic, downer of the team the one getting less recognition. He had known that when he had met this band of crazy people that he had started to call family. He had known that when Lloyd had taken charge and lead them towards one victory after the other. He had known that when Nya had been called into action, showing off once and for all that she was the real deal. There was always someone before him, brighter, to capture the attention. Being a robot, being an inventor, being the most handsome guy in existence…

… and it was fine.

Cole wasn’t stupid not unrealistic. He knew who he was, he knew his skills and his pros. He knew there were many people cheering for him too, he knew that Ninjago City loved him. Having less focus didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do his best to give back that support. But moments like these made him feel like it was unfairly easy to be pushed away in favor of something better. This really wasn’t what he was used to. The party, the attention… him.

It wasn’t about the attention after all. It was about feeling inadequate. Unlike others, he wasn’t born for the attention. Others were ready to burn to catch everyone’s eyes through their beauty. Cole only wished the difference wasn’t always this upsetting.

The guests were walking around him as he passed through. He didn’t actually want to go back to the table, he had simply said the first thing that had come to his mind – with that one girl so close to Kai thinking had been very difficult. Then the police commissioner had called the attention upon the impressive cake that was being brought in by a carrier. Shaped like the monastery, with their faces on the base. Wasn’t he the absolute dessert lover that he was, he might have found the cake too cute to even attempt a bite. Then again he really was, which was no secret at all. The chief of the police department was more than happy to give him the first slice.

White chocolate and blueberries. He hated himself for being so irritated, he would have wanted to enjoy his cake without bothering images into his head. He knew it wasn’t that big of a deal. Whenever there was a party, his mind just liked to remind him how uncomfortable he felt. It was only a matter of waiting for it to be over. Then he could share a bag of candies with Lloyd, or pull some weights with Nya, or meditate with Zane, or train with Pixal, or destroy Jay at videogame. Or do anything, absolutely everything, that involved spending time with Kai.

Just for the sake of having him near… ah, dang it, feelings again!

He swallowed a bit harshly, all of the sudden he couldn’t have more. The slice was half eaten – yeah he liked to have that big of a first bite –, and even after spending the night munching over those little snacks that couldn’t contain more than one or two calories each. He felt full. He couldn’t even enjoy his dessert now, might as well leave before anyone noticed him. He had planned on leaving much earlier so it wasn’t a problem.

Cole looked down at that forsaken drink, arching an eyebrow. Maybe it was good with sweets? Maybe that was what made it good? He drank, grimaced and grunted. He moved to put the drink on the table once and for all.

A quick ninja hand snatched the glass. A second later it was emptied.

“Finally, you were driving me crazy with this thing!” Kai, smiley and innocent, almost knocked down another glass as he let the empty one fall over the table. “All night sipping and hating!”

The black ninja’s mind was empty. From nothingness, only one doubt emerged.

“… you’ve been watching me?”

Don’t think we fit in at this party

Everyone’s got so much to say

When we walked in I said “I’m sorry”

But now I think that we should stay

That wasn’t probably the question to ask, no matter how much the master of earth was stubborn over the idea that nothing was a big deal at the moment. Something like ‘what are you doing here’ would have sounded out of place though, and teasing directly about what happened to his fan club didn’t sound better. Besides, the handsome master of fire finished his drink putting those perfect lips right where Cole’s had been just a second ago, and the black ninja’s strategic leader brain that had many times got him out of a bad situation wasn’t working.

Or maybe it was? There were very few things that could really, actively melt his heart like this. The red ninja’s blush was one of them. It had to have something to do with his element, the reddening was absolute and total. Like watching a thermometer reaching the maximum.

“J-Just a little! One or two times!” Liar, Cole had been doing this sip and regret thing all evening. The thought alone was an injection of giddiness. “Not up for cake? That’s new.”

Oh. He felt a little more in vain for cake. Two bites later it was done.

“I was taking a breath.” It was easier with him around. Did he know that? “You’re done with the fans? That was quick.” Kai huffed with superiority, but the black ninja was no fool: he could see the girl from before sighing a little, like she didn’t get nearly as much red ninja as she had been expecting. “You didn’t have to leave them behind for me.” That came out exactly as badly as he thought it. Why did he say it anyway? Why was the master of fire this shocked and fearful? “Kai I’m not some special case that you have to take care of, you know that. You don’t have to hang around me just because.” Huh. It came out like that.

Huh. Kai looked one with his element, burning from his forehead to his neck, looking almost sunburned. Adorable. So adorable, even while Cole was waiting for whatever was going to come from this situation. Which was, beyond his expectations, the red ninja’s rough and long hand slowly reaching for his, holding it tight.

Warm, so warm, so unfairly warm.

“I… I hang out with you because I want to. I want you to have fun because I…” He swallowed, hardly, and it felt like a light was switched on in the black ninja’s mind. “… I like when you have fun. When you s-smile, too.” It was so different from the usual flirty attitude that this guy used. It would have sounded like a mockery to any other. “I like being where you are too, that’s all I need… I-I mean it!” But Cole knew this guy, he knew him too well not to know that flirting was a show.

This awkward, embarrassed, red gorgeous person was the real deal. One that came out only when the time was right, and the person was right.

Cole was right. He was… right?

“I… I don’t know what to say.” He really didn’t and it was the worst possible answer. But it was true. What did you say to someone you harbored feelings for that showed interest back towards you? Thanks? Same here? I love you?? It was true but it was out and everything felt unnecessary and uneasy again.

The hold tightened. Kai was still blushing, but he was smiling with that special energy into his eyes. The one that usually meant a very bad plan coming, or one heck of an idea.

“No need. Just come with me.” Not like he could resist him right now.

Right on cue the music had changed, slowing down. The master of earth had a suspicion the one holding his hand was behind this – not like bribing Dareth currently at the console was particularly hard, especially with a couple of Puffy Potstickers in hand. Then again, the one holding his hand was this handsome fella that was leading him towards the center of the ballroom, between fanciful people and a couple of eyes in awe at seeing their heroes there. It was easier to ignore the comparison, the feeling of inferiority, while feeling Kai’s fingers clenching around his palm, shaking firmly. It was cute. So very cute. Cole could barely see in front of himself between all these people, yet it felt like nothing was really shouldering him as he passed through.

There were lights above them. Were they always there? Cole didn’t notice before, which was silly since it was all dark outside. His head was lighter, he didn’t have control over his strength even if he had wanted to break free from that hold. He didn’t. Not when the red ninja had that familiar determination making his entire body tense. Not while he turned around, smirking.

Still blushing. Still holding his hand. The master of earth looked down. Two pairs of feet staring at each other. Memories of the dance lessons came flooding back.

He looked up. Those glimmering embers made it much better.

“You brought me here to dance?”

“Impeccable deduction, Rocky.”

“Do you even know how? Dancing in couple is not the same as in a group, and we both know you have awful balance.” It was the only thing that made him regret throwing the battle against Jay back at the tournament of elements: losing the possibility of seeing this klutz making a fool of himself on roller skates. Confident Kai? Goofy and charming. Energic Kai? Attractive and brave. Angry Kai? Literally hot. But man, clumsy, adorably unsteady Kai? A wholesome force strong enough to break every single mountain he had ever climbed in his life.

The master of fire huffed with superiority, which was already promising. Around them a few couples were getting together, slowly moving with the rhythm.

“Please, I defeat evil lurking behind our backs on regular basis. I can handle a dance.” His eyes went down on his feet, while he unsurely grabbed his other hand. “You just gotta work with me, first you move the left… right… no left, left!” Left went right over his partner’s foot, and it was gone right away ironically almost as it got burned. “D-Don’t laugh, I got this!” Screw everything, the master of earth was very glad Ninjago had been in peril just to arrive at this specific moment.

Ah, but he was the responsible one, wasn’t he? Snickering right in front of the brunette’s face while he was doing his dang best at not stomping onto his feet would have not been very mature.

… continuously at least, he could take one giggle.

No one could call one giggle immature. Or two.

“I can hear my father’s pleas from here.”

“Shut up, I’m getting there! Right foot, sorry, then left…” Wow, it was almost impressive considering Cole had managed to see him before almost gracefully practicing spinjitzu with them. Then again, it was so like him it hurt. “There there’s the… huh… casket?” Oh dear, he meant the casque? Yep, definitely good pa wasn’t here. The black ninja almost blacked out he was laughing so much – pun not intended –, wiping away a single tear. Then he looked up, embers were staring. So focused and bright they were too much to look at. Kai grinned. “At least your smile is back.” The softest curve ever.

It was impossible not to look at it. It was baffling how many people were attracted to the master of fire solely for appearance and superficial charm. Yet this part, this tender side of him was the most lovely part. The most hidden too, reserved only to those who got close enough to the fire to get burned, without regretting a single moment.

Cole giggled again, stepping forward. Automatically he took charge, assuming the position that had been sculptured into his mind by years of dance lessons. Kai’s hand was still shaking as he took it, his eyes were trembling too. It made the black ninja smile more.

“It’s easy to smile when I’m with you.” Another incredible thing about this guy, it made all the people around him more confident. Stronger. Him included.

Kai gaped. He stuttered, looking down, up, at him and not.

Then he sighed, whining weakly.

“I was trying to properly confess, Boulder Brain.” It would have been such a shameless, anticlimactic moment for anyone. Gosh if it hadn’t dissolved all the anxious anticipation the black ninja had. “Why did you have to one up me right now?” Maybe it wasn’t only Kai that made him feel this at ease, maybe it wasn’t only them knowing each other so well. Maybe there really was one and only, for life, and the master of earth knew it by instinct.

A pretty good instinct too.

Cole grinned, stepping closer because dang if this didn’t feel immensely good.

“Force of habit, you’re just that slow.” Dang if this easiness between them wasn’t the most comfortable feeling he had ever felt. “You should really put your mind into training a little more, prove that you can keep up with me, Fireball.”

Music was changing, people were moving, the party was continuing and neither of them was looking anymore. Who cared anyway? What was important right now?

Warmth was.

Kai’s hand on his cheek was. Kai’s softened eyes on him were.

“I can do that. You know I never quit in front of a challenge.” One blink of an eye later, their noses were brushing. Another blink, their breaths were caressing each other’s lips. One last, the master of fire turned that kind of serious. The one that put everything on the table, because he considered a moment that important. “… I hate when you ditch a party.” Cole held together a little gulp. “And it’s not about you not being a party person, or wanting you to have fun, or even for you to get the credit you deserve. It is in part, but it’s not all.” He smiled, his thumb tracing gently his cheek, so very careful with him. Him, the lifter of their team. Him, the mighty master of earth. Him, the one that could manifest an earthquake with a punch. “It’s just that I miss you every time. You make everything better for me… I want to be with you as much as I can.”

It was never about that after all. It was never about who he was or what he represented, for either of them. It was just about two guys, two friends that had been lucky enough to get closer to each other reciprocally. In comparison to this, everything felt so meaningless.

The room was empty, the music was gone. It was just them.

Cole closed his eyes.

“You could convince me that parties are cool, you know. Then I won’t ditch anymore.” His closeness, his heat, his presence. The black ninja wanted to take in everything about this moment and never letting go. “I feel like I’m on the right path right now…” Wow, they weren’t even together yet and his flirty tendencies were already rubbing on him. Was he really that gone already for not minding it one bit?

Ah, who cared, Kai was so close he could hear him swallow. His thumb was still shivering, and it made his heart flutter. Then he laughed, low and sincere.

“Let’s see if I can be convincing.” He whispered.

Kissing the red ninja was exactly how he had imagined. It was warm, a little clumsy, so very sincere and vigorous. It reflected how he moved, how he acted, how he fought, how he protected. Yet it was nothing like he thought. It was so sweet it made his eyes pinch, it was delicate and even a little uncertain. It was him on the inside, the him that didn’t always want to make an impression, the him that had so much love to give to his most precious ones. It was him. In every possible way, it was him.

Cole smiled, kissing back, holding onto him as he was held back.

He liked parties. And he loved Kai.

‘Cause I don’t care when I’m with my baby, yeah

All the bad things disappear

And you’re making me feel like maybe I am somebody

I can deal with the bad nights

When I’m with my baby

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago kai #ninjago cole #kai smith #cole brookstone #cole bucket #lava #lavashipping #ninjago valentine exchange #nightlybirdie

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chelsfic · 4 years ago

Text

Leftovers - Part 6 - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

Previous parts: Masterlist

Summary: In which the reader and Nandor engage in some smut. There are lingering effects after the attack by the unknown vampire. A fight breaks out! And Fucking Colin Robinson can’t help himself when it comes to Scrabble.

A/N: Yeah, hi. It’s me. I spent all day struggling with this unwieldy beast and trying to shape it into something the least bit consistent. I really hope this holds up with the rest of the fic. I am also thinking that a vampire orgy is on the horizon, lol.

Warnings: Smut, Female Reader-insert, Reader is described as short and a roller derby player, lingering trauma from vampire attack, memory loss due to hypnosis

---

The horrible, empty echo of erased memories is still with you when you wake, like a forgotten dream that nags at the back of your mind. Nandor sleeps like the literal dead beside you and the inside of the coffin is utterly dark. His presence wraps around you. His solid body is a comfort and his scent fills the enclosed space--earthy and spicy with an edge of coppery-blood-soaked menace. It should raise the hairs on the back of your neck. Your primitive instincts should be screaming at you to run. Instead you draw closer to him, resting your head beside his, close enough for your breath to warm his lips.

The moment is quiet and still, despite the frantic beat of your heart as you recall the softness of his lips on yours and the proud, possessive audacity of his hands on your body. You think Nandor’s kisses must be at least as addictive to you as your blood is to him. Ever since that frenzied, blood-drunk makeout session you’ve had the memory of it running on repeat in the undercurrent of your thoughts. But, Nandor? Does he...want that outside the context of blood letting?

There’s only one way to find out, chicky, Nadja would say.

You lean forward, pressing your mouth to his cool lips, marveling at the contrast with your sleep-warmed skin. For a long moment he remains unmoving... dead to the world. You dart out your tongue and stroke it along his full lower lip, thrilling when you brush the wicked point of a fang. Your hands cup over his bearded cheeks, and you drag your fingers along his jaw as he gradually stirs beneath your touch. He wakes with a deep groan that rumbles up his throat and into your kiss. His lips move with yours now, parting to admit your seeking tongue. He catches your bottom lip in his teeth and nibbles gently, eliciting a pleased squeak from you.

“Nandor...” you pant. He’s fully awake now. His hand roams down your side, into the dip of your waist and over the round curve of your hips.

“Mortal,” he answers you, dragging his fangs along your lips with a shudder that wracks his frame. He brings his other hand up between you and brushes the tips of his fingers over your lips, “I can feel your blood. Here, and…”

He reaches down and just barely presses his flattened palm over the aching heat between your legs.

“...here,” he finishes.

Your breath falls from your lips in a shaky gasp. His touch is frustratingly light but thrilling all the same. You roll your hips forward, seeking the friction your body craves and Nandor obliges you, snaking his hand between your thighs to cup your sex and rub you through the fabric of your shorts.

“I want you, Nandor,” you hiss in pleasure, peppering kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his nose. It’s a declaration and one you’re not sure he’ll accept.

His mouth curves in pleasure at your admission. He wants to plunge himself inside of you and tear into your neck, erasing the foul touch of that unknown vampire. You’re his human. A growl rips from his throat at the thought.

He lowers his lips to brush against the shell of your ear as he barely whispers, “When I am with you I feel like I did with 35 of my 37 wives…”

He captures your earlobe between his teeth, letting his fang break the skin with a stinging little pinch while at the same time increasing the pressure of his hand against the bundle of pulsing nerves between your legs.

“...I feel as though I could never set another peasant aflame and...still be happy…”

He closes his lips around the tiny wound and sucks, moaning with the heady ambrosia of your virgin blood as you ride his hand.

“You’re in the habit of lighting peasants on fire?” you laugh shakily, your breath coming in heaving gasps.

He laughs haughtily, “I’ve killed a thousand peasants and drunk a thousand virgins, my human.”

Okay, pillow talk could use some...work. It doesn’t matter anyway because you soon lose your power of speech and resort to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breaking his hold on your earlobe in the process.

When Guillermo throws open the lid of the coffin you’re clinging to Nandor’s body with his hand buried between your thighs and a completely obvious moan dying on your lips.

Guillermo’s mouth falls open in shock and you jump away from Nandor, scrambling over the side of the coffin and burning in mortification when you notice the camera crew lurking in the open doorway.

“Guillermo!” Nandor shouts. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

---

“So...things are getting a little complicated with the human…”

Nandor is still seated in his coffin, one arm draped casually along the rim, and addressing the camera with an uncomfortable grimace.

“It’s like, do I want to drink her or do I want to do the sex with her?”

He looks off to the side, shaking his head in confusion. After a moment he finally climbs out of the coffin, standing and revealing the massive erection tenting his trousers.

“I wonder where Laszlo is…?”

---

There’s a saying in the derby world. “Roller derby will save your soul.” Sure, it might ruin your knees, break your nose, and deplete your bank account. But when you’re skating on the track with your league you can let go of everything else in your life for a little while.

The nagging black hole in your memories from the rave went away while Nandor touched you. But it returns with a vengeance soon after and you arrive at practice with a headache and a foul mood. Tonight is contact drills. Thank god. You really need to hit something.

You go through the motions of warming up, tossing greetings to your fellow skaters and letting yourself be in the moment. Your body knows these movements like the lyrics to a favorite song. You’re strong, fast and in control. Everything that you weren’t last night when...whoever it was attacked you and stole your memory. By the time you break a sweat you’re grinning with exhilaration.

You run through drills, losing yourself in muscle memory. The night ends with a short scrimmage and you on your ass after a truly impressive hit from one of the new skaters. The girl looks horrified that she’s hurt you but you just laugh it off, slapping your wrist guard to hers in congratulations.

By the time you step off the bus and make your way up to the front door of the house you’re feeling loose and pleasantly sore. And hardly frustrated at all after your interrupted moment with Nandor this evening.

Hardly at all.

As soon as you step inside Guillermo rushes up to you with a frantic look on his face.

“Nadja and Nandor are going to kill each other!” he cries.

Can you never have a nice, peaceful evening in this house? Maybe a game of Scrabble or a movie night?

All the vampires are assembled in the library and Nandor and Nadja are both floating in the air furiously hissing at one another like a couple of street cats.

“YOU BLOODY, SLUG-FACED ASSHOLE!” Nadja shouts, clawing out her arms and flying towards Nandor, who throws out a kick and sends her crashing into the opposite wall.

“Nandor!” you shout, disgusted. “What is going on!? I leave for a few hours and all hell breaks loose?”

“HUMAN! Tell your snake-ass boyfriend I am not to blame for what happened last night!” Nadja cries, breaking into a hiss as Nandor flies at her with murder in his eyes.

“Stop it, Nandor!” you shout, dropping your gear bag and reaching up to snag his ankle as he floats by. Rather than slowing him down as you intended, you end up getting dragged along the floor in his wake as he chases Nadja out into the hallway.

“Gaaah!” you shriek, hanging on to him and trying to dig your heels into the floor to slow him down. When that doesn’t work you forcibly pull yourself up his leg, grabbing onto the thick belt at his waist and climbing until you’re wrapped around him piggyback-style. You clamp your hands over his eyes and shout, “Stop!”

“Fu-cking human!” Nandor curses, reaching up and prying your hands off his eyes. “You stop it or I’ll drain you right now. I mean it!”

The threat falls flat, considering he’s currently in an apparent fight to the death over your safety and honor…

“If you kill Nadja I’ll never kiss you again...or any other stuff!” you growl, digging your fingers into his thick hair and giving it a yank. He hisses and swats at your hands.

Nandor actually pauses to consider your words, looking over his shoulder at you in hesitation before scoffing, “Psssk, you can’t resist my dark power, human. Now shut up and let me kill our roommate!”

Nadja has retreated up to the vaulted ceiling above the main entryway and Nandor surges upward after her.

You shriek in terror, “I’m afraid of heights, you jerk!”

“I’LL RIP OUT ALL OF YOUR DIRTY PUBIC HAIRS AND SHOVE THEM IN YOUR EYEBALLS YOU--!”

Just as Nandor is about to collide with your astonishingly imaginative vampire mama, Laszlo barrels out of nowhere and rams into him with a dramatic cry, “I say, keep your hands off my lady wife!”

Nandor launches backwards and crashes against the wall, crushing you and knocking the wind from your lungs in the impact. You both crumple onto the upstairs balcony. Nandor recovers at once, making ready to jump into the fray, but you’re lying on your back, coughing and wheezing as you try to get in a breath.

“Stupid...jerk...vampires! Knock it off!” you gasp.

Nadja flies down from her perch to land at your side with a moue of concern.

“Poor, baby,” Nadja coos over you before turning on Nandor. “Now look what you’ve done, donkey dick!”

Nandor kneels on your other side and whines, “I did nothing! It was Laszlo!”

You lift yourself up onto your elbows and eye both vampires with as much exasperation as you can summon.

“Enough! Nadja...I forgive you for leaving me on my own. I know how horny you are--”

“Thank you, human,” she sniffs.

“Nandor...stop trying to kill Nadja,” you order, trying to instill the tone of authority into your voice that comes so naturally to him.

He rolls his eyes and pouts but finally murmurs, “Fine.”

“Good…” you sigh, getting to your feet with a moan of pain. “I’m gonna go lay in bed with an ice pack on my ass. Try not to kill anyone--er, well...at least try not to kill each other…”

---

After a shower and some icing of the blossoming red and purple derby bruise on your right butt cheek, you make your way downstairs to find that Nadja, Laszlo and Nandor have all gone out hunting. Colin is sitting by himself in the library with his newspaper and Guillermo is tucked away in his room, talking to his mom on the phone.

“Hey,” you greet Colin as you gingerly drop down onto the couch. “Do we have any board games? Maybe Scrabble?”

A grin spreads across Colin’s lips and you miss the sheen of blue hunger in his eyes as he replies, “I think I’ve got an old Scrabble set around here somewhere…”

---

“...And then in 2017 it was David Eldar who took home the championship. But, of course, today the reigning champion is still Nigel Richards. But what’s really fascinating about competitive mind sports, like Scrabble--”

“What the fuck!” Nandor appears in the doorway of the library and you immediately turn to him and make grabby hands.

“Save me!” you implore dramatically.

Colin snickers under his breath, “Sorry, Nandor, I couldn’t help it. There’s just something about Scrabble that really gets me going…”

“Fucking Colin Robinson…” Nandor mutters darkly as he trails you up the stairs, following you right into your room and shutting the door on the camera crew behind him.

You plop down onto your bed, wincing a little with the pain of your massive bruise. When you glance up at Nandor you notice a splash of red blood on his chin.

“Have a nice...hunt?” you ask, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

Nandor grins and perches beside you on the bed with a sweep of his cape.

“Jealous?” he questions with a smug smirk that bares his fangs.

Yes.

“No,” you insist. “I like my blood right where it is, thanks.”

Nandor narrows his eyes and needles, “Really...” His gaze falls to rest on the thrumming pulse of your throat. “Are you sure you don’t prefer it on my lips...or my tongue…?”

He crawls over you and the dark curtains of his long hair cascade down around your face as he bends to lay a kiss along your jaw.

“No biting!” you insist and he pulls back with a pout.

“Not even just to wash the taste of those joggers out of my mouth? They tasted like shit!” he complains.

You really shouldn’t be pleased that he prefers the taste of your blood over others but…

“You’re getting spoiled,” you grumble, reaching up and idly playing with his hair. “But you’re very pretty…”

Nandor settles down beside you and pulls you onto his chest, running his hands over your back and down to the curve of your backside with a lecherous leer.

“You’re the one who’s spoiled. I should have left you in the human cell to feed on when I choose…”

The threat is comically empty.

You roll your eyes at him and squirm up to press a kiss to his bearded chin, “Yeah, but then I’d probably be dead by now...and you wouldn’t have someone to smooch and cuddle in your coffin, so…”

He cups your face in his hands, drawing you back down and pressing his mouth to yours in a long, passionate kiss that erases the taste of jogger’s blood from his tongue.

“I suppose that there are certain benefits to mercy…”

Nandor picks up where you left off in his crypt. He kisses you senseless, until you’re a squirming bundle of need and then he finally reaches down between you and pushes his large hand down the front of your shorts and into your wet folds. His hands may have been made to hold a sword in battle, to bring pain and death, but they are also capable of the utmost tender and skilled care as he works you into a keening frenzy on top of him. You wail with the intensity of the orgasm that crashes through you and he keeps his hand on you, rubbing and stroking your oversensitive flesh until it almost hurts.

His erection juts between your bodies, obscenely obvious through the thick fabric of his trousers. You’re still breathless with the force of the pleasure he’s given you when you make your first shy, tentative advances. As soon as your warm hand presses against him through his pants Nandor let’s out a fierce growl and he grabs your wrist, directing you to apply more pressure, rutting himself against your little hand. You reach for the waist of his pants with your free hand, tugging at it and fiddling with the absurd number of buttons until he finally assists you, opening his fly and reaching in to free himself.

Nandor’s smile is goofy and pleased with himself as he watches your virgin eyes roam over the impressive length of him. You reach out to touch. He’s thick and heavy in your hand. Your touch is feather light, experimental, hesitant. You watch as his eyes fall closed and his lips part. Nandor the Relentless is at the mercy of his mortal pet. Your touch grows firm, more confident. He fists his hands into the sheets and pants out the faintest, needy cries of pleasure until he’s twitching and shaking in your hand with his own release. The cold spurt of his seed falls over your fist and stains the rich fabric of his tunic.

Now that it’s over you’re unaccountably shy. You tuck yourself into his side and hide your face in his shoulder as he recovers himself. You fall asleep like that, clinging to him. And for the first time in centuries Nandor sleeps outside his coffin, curled protectively around you.

---

You’re sitting cross-legged in the high-backed armchair across from the camera man. His question hangs in the air and you pull the hood of your sweatshirt up, tugging on the drawstrings to hide your face as you answer.

“Yeah...I’m still a virgin.”

Memories of the previous night swirl through your head and you tighten the drawstrings until only your eyes peer out from the hoodie.

“...for now.”

---

“Guillermo!” Nandor shouts from his crypt. “I have clothes for the washer woman!”

---

A/N: Ugh---please send me soft, nice things. I’m entirely unsure if I’m happy with this. The only part I know I love was the fight scene with Nadja and Nandor.

Tags:

@festering-queen @glitterportrait @kandomeresbitch @scuzmunkie @redwoodshadows

#nandor #nandor the relentless #nandor x reader #nandor the relentless x reader #nandor imagine #nandor the relentless imagine #nandor the relentless fanfic #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fanfic #wwdits fanfic #kayvan novak

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sandsofoneiros · 4 years ago

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Plus One.

Disclaimer: I don't any of the Star Wars characters. The OCs are mine, however.

Warning: None that I can think of, other than some cursing? If something is then please let me know! Awkward encounters.

Summary: The bridal consultant au that no one asked for.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x OFC (Aurora)

Tagging: @thembohux.

It was a broken-down building with broken windows, and the parking lot was nothing more than dirt with gravel. Everybody claimed it wasn’t the proper place for anything, but Ro had concluded she was going to make it her future restaurant. This was her dream. She glanced at that for sale sign that had seen better days and exhaled. She was in her last year of college and was always saving whatever she could for this little dilapidated building. It was taking her longer than she expected, but she would not give up. Working at her mother's dress shop was useful and sharing the rent with Kaydel also helped, but she didn't feel any closer to her goal. Groaning, she took a much longer drag out of her cigarette before flicking to the ground and smothering it with her black flats. She had to work in thirty minutes and her mom wouldn't be too pleased if she smelled too much like smoke. Ro was only able to use stress as a reason now and then. Giving her dream one last ardent look, she grudgingly returned to her car. The drive wasn't long, but she felt fear the rest of the way and couldn't wait until the day she did what she loved.

Pulling into the parking lot, she grasped her steering wheel and collected all her energy to pull through another shift. Looking for the lint brush from her central console, she put it over her black dress to make sure she didn't have any Dio fur hidden on it. He might be short-haired, but that dog shed like no other. She then took her backpack and put her phone in her side pocket, along with her keys, before leaving her car. This was consistently the worst part. Having to leave the sanctuary of her car and turn into customer service friendly Aurora Citlali. It caused to her gag when she heard her customer service voice. The bell chimed as she strolled through the door and made her way to the break room to put her things away.

“Aurora, we have a bridal party here. I need you to help them. ” Eirlys, her mama, uttered as she stepped around her oldest daughter, holding a dress up.

“Let Thalia do it. I don’t like bridal parties. They never listen to me and they always cry. Why can’t I take the prom dress section? Teenage girls aren’t nearly as scary as upset brides.”

“Thalia is working on the alteration with your aunt, and Seraphine is helping with the prom gowns. We have bridal parties today and I need your help on this one.”

Of course, Thalia had decided that she wanted to do the sewing and alteration lessons today. Placing her backpack on the table, she retrieved her lunch and threw it into the refrigerator, noting that her mother had brought some leftovers. This could be a better lunch than what she brought.

“Okay, I'm going to look at their consultation sheet and grab some dresses to see what she wants. What’s her name?”

“Rey Solo.”

Ro nearly choked as she heard the familiar name. Not her. Ro and Rey had never exactly been friends. They were just acquaintances. They met through a mutual friend and didn't really hit it off. Ro never thought so at least. Rey never actually said much to her and had repeatedly just gone on about how she was “one of the guys.” It was something that got under her skin more than anything. Of course, she knew that people from her high school would come to the store for their big day. However, she did not anticipate that Rey would be the first. She was taken off guard.

"Momma, can't Seraphina help you instead? I mean, she rarely does wedding parties and it would be an excellent experience!”

Like in high school, Ro fled to get away from Rey. She didn't want to face her or the people that she was with, either. She had no idea who Rey was friends with other than Finn and Poe. Poe. There was someone she hadn't thought of in ages. Her former high school crush. Shaking her head at the thought of the old crush, she returned to seek a way out of this little mess. She slid out of her comfortable flats and put herself in black heels. Without saying anything else, she moved to the prom gown section of the store to find Seraphine. His younger sister had always been extroverted and always glowed when she worked. Something else about Seraphina? She couldn't turn down her older sister.

“Seph! Pssst! Come here.” Whispering, Ro elbowed his sister to get her attention. Seraphine excused himself before following Ro to a quieter place.

“What is it? We’re supposed to be working.” She teased before her hands reached out to mess with Ro’s burgundy waves. She had always messed with her sister’s hair.

“Want to be my favorite younger sister for the rest of your life?”

"I'm everybody's favorite, Ro." Seph folded her arms, she raised an eyebrow at the oldest Citlali. Bribery didn't always work with her.

“Rude. Will you please attend the bridal party?”

“What? No, mother said it was for you. I have to help the prom shoppers.”

“Please! Seph, I went to school with the bride and I don't want to face any of that awkwardness.”

“Mama said no, and I’m not getting on her unpleasant side. Maybe next time we can swap.”

Her lips shot down into a pout, while Seraphine offered her an apologetic smile. She would not get out of this, no matter what she did. Moving to the consultation area, Ro took a deep breath and put on her finest fake smile, and continued to the awaiting ladies. Ro soothed down her dress before glancing around a rack of ivory dresses. She could see Leia, Rey, then the woman she most dreaded, Zorii's Bliss. She was being back in high school. That sentiment had long ago been buried and kept buried. It was one of the most frustrating times of her life and she did not want to give in to those lost memories. She was a bit surprised that there were no more people with Rey. She always seemed to be one of the more popular girls at school. Why was she always clinging to the past? It was certainly time to let that go, and she had! She moved on with her life.

Be an adult.

Fluffing her hair, Ro started her way over to where the women were sitting and laughing. It was now or never; she needed to get this over with.

“Rey Solo? Hi, I’m Aurora Citlali. I’ll be helping you today. You can just call me Ro though.” Aurora introduced herself and shook Rey’s hand before proceeding to introduce herself to Leia and Zorii. Ro had only met Leia a few times but appeared as kind as she remembered.

“Aurora! Hold up, I recognize you! I was in school with you! You had to remember me!” Just fake it, Ro. Fake it. She told herself before she laughed.

“Oh, my goodness! Rey! I don't believe it! You look fantastic!” She drew back to ‘get a better look’ at Rey and move further out of reach before Rey gestured over to Zorii, who didn’t even look remotely thrilled about seeing Ro.

“You remember Zoril, don't you? She's my maid of honor!” Rey expressed with so much excitement that Ro felt a little bad about how sour her attitude had been earlier. . Leaving the past where it belonged, Ro concluded that she would be a little more excited about this

“Zorii? Oh, my gosh! I barely recognized you! You both look so beautiful! Not that you weren’t before, but y’know! Okay, why don't we get started? We have many dresses for you to choose from! Tell about your partner and your wedding!”

“Rey, keep in mind that we are still waiting for someone. Wait before you try dresses on.” Leia spoke up as she tapped away on the phone. Ro could only speculate that she was sending a text to the individual in question.

“Is that alright? I’m positive it won’t be too much longer.” Rey pleaded, and Ro just smiled before grabbing her hands and giving them a slight squeeze. She was going to sell this kindness with everything that she could and make a sale today.

“Of course! We can just talk and I can get some ideas on which gowns you might want. Now, we normally have a consultation sheet for brides to fill out and helps us with picking out dresses.” Ro hunted around for the clipboard that would have everything she required to get the process moving. Rey gladly gave it to her as she sat next to her mother and Ro drew another chair. Green hues examining the white piece of paper and she was screaming inside. It would be harder than she thought. Further conversations were going to take place, and she scorned that.

"I don't wear many dresses.”

“Oh, that's not a problem. We got tons of styles! No worries. Just start telling me what you might like and I'll take the notes.”

The following thirty minutes were devoted to jotting down the occasional dress patterns that Rey suggested and Ro counting the ceiling tiles. Where was this other fellow, and why weren't they still here? It was going a lot easier than she anticipated and she expected it to continue. It was strange to see them again, and she tried her best to forget every moment from long ago. Ro drifts down the aisles of white dresses before taking the dresses she had gathered in the fitting room reserved for Rey. The consultant was careful to space the dresses on the hooks to let Rey see some details better. She ensured to have all her accessories to help make the dress better adapted to Rey's shape before presenting it to everyone. Ro’s mind had wandered about her own wedding day. Most girls had their wedding planned before they were sixteen, but Ro never really thought of it. She had never met anyone who, in her opinion, would be the one doing this next step with her. On top of that, she had a restaurant to own one day. She didn’t have time to bother about relationships. Out of sight, out of mind.

Looking in the mirror, Ro took another deep breath and breathed out as she left the dressing room to rejoin Rey and her party. While circling the corner, she immediately froze when she saw the man who had accompanied them. She recognized the dark curls, the infectious laughter, and all she could do was stand there. Her legs didn't want to go forward. Not one single step. Poe Dameron. It was fucking Poe Dameron. The universe was not happy with her. That's all she could think at that moment before she cleared her throat. This couldn’t be happening.

“Looks like we have a fox in the hen-house,” Ro teased as she remained behind all of them. She would not get any closer to the man. Squeezing her hands together and in front of her as she smiled at everyone. Missing how Poe's eyes appeared to roam from top to bottom of her form. 'Is this the groom? ' The simple act of asking makes her feel disappointed. It wouldn’t surprise her if Poe had swept Rey off her feet.

“Poe? Oh no! Poe is the best man, and I thought he'd be an excellent addition to what Finn might like!”

Ro sighed with relief that Poe was not the groom and held out her hand. He just kept staring at it. She realized he was having trouble remembering who she was, and she prayed he wouldn't.

“Poe Dameron. You are?”

His smile was still as bright as ever. She felt the butterflies fluttering once more, and she pressed her lips into a thin smile. She couldn't give him her name. They were close back then just because they had met in chemistry class. They had no friends in the class and had formed a partnership. It had been the start of a treasured friendship until it ran its course.

“The woman that will find Rey the perfect dress.” She gave him a firm handshake before bringing the brunette back to the dressing room. Her heart was pounding in her chest as they strode away. It was about to be harder than she thought. The lengthier part of the consultation was about to begin. It was time for Rey to try on her dresses and deal with others with all opinions. This was the worse part for Ro. She struggled repeatedly with the frequency at which the voice of the bride got lost at this time. So many brides would like the dress and a single voice would utter poisonous words and the bride would change her mind. As a consultant, Ro's opinion and voice had limited weight, and she realized that. They even completed the bride's look with the veil, shoes, and some jewelry just to get everyone on board, but it did not always work. Ro had chosen a simple A-Line gown, to begin with, and saw the uncertainty on Rey's face as she pinned everything in place to compliment his figure.

“I think this one looks wonderful. It’s not too flashy, and it’s sleeveless. The sweetheart neckline is elegant as well. There’s some lace. What do you think?” Ro asked as she examined Rey posing. She could already see that the dress did not move her.

"That's nice," murmured Rey.

“Would you like to show them and get feedback?”

Rey nodded as Ro opened the door and helped her to get to the platform where the rest were waiting. She watched as Rey stood on the runway opposite the illuminated mirrors and waited. It was in these moments that Ro counted things around the store, but Poe had moved into her line of vision. She stayed focused on her client while she moved around in the gown. None of them had talked until now, and she was a little concerned about that. The dress wasn't bad at all but didn't exactly suit Rey.

“What do we think guys?” Ro finally spoke up for them. She wasn’t the most patient woman in these moments.

“It’s a splendid dress, but I don’t think it fits her. It looks wonderful, but not her style.” Leia offered as she continued peering at the dress. She had shifted on the couch to sit forward to see the dress better. It was rare that the first dress was ever the dress.

“I agree. It's a long dress, and sometimes Rey gets excited.” Zori laughed, prompting Leia to join the little joke she made. However, the women turned their attention to Poe, who kept on staring at the bridal consultant. It was not unusual for Poe to flirt, but it was probably not the best while his best friend's fiancé was hunting her wedding dress.

“Poe?” Leia shook her head at the man that she regarded as her son.

“It’s alright. I mean, I don't think you'll like wearing it all night. Besides, you or Finn could step on it and rip it." Poe shrugged his shoulders as he glanced at Ro. He still had difficulty figuring out where he knew her from.

'I guess we'll have to try another one, Aurora.' Rey laughed as she picked up the skirt from the dress and walked down the runway. Things seemed to stop then. Why did Rey have to say her name? She couldn't help but close her eyes when she heard her name. She just hoped that Aurora was a popular name, even if in this little town it wasn't. She counted the seconds that seemed to go by before he made the connection. A moment that she feared since she saw him.

“Aurora? Ro Citlali? Ro! God, I knew it!” He was already jumping out of the chair and hugging her. How many more times would she be hugged today? Timidly, she hugged him and tried not to inhale Poe's spicy cologne. Why couldn’t she pull away from this hug? Why didn’t she want to? How could this be happening to her?

“It's nice to see you too,” mumbles Ro, but made no effort to let go. Poe was the one to pull back and what seemed to be the millionth time since he got there looked at her again.

The rest of the appointment seemed to be going a little better. They had decided that Rey would be happier in a short style dress and Ro was currently pulling dresses from there. She was doing her best no to be around Poe. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, but she wasn’t enjoying the butterflies that he caused. That just wasn’t fair. Ro wasn’t going to get lost in his coffee-colored eyes, she wasn’t going to think about being in his arms again, and she was going to get her hopes up about reviving their friendship. Instead, she stood idly by and ran around the shop for the bride.

“Okay, but you can’t avoid me forever, RooRoo.” The sound of his voice startled her and she nearly dropped the dresses that she was holding. Shaking her head, she let out a little chuckle. Ro had done an excellent job avoiding Poe now and she wouldn't stop now. There was no way she was going to let him weasel his way back in after all that had happened. The use of the old nickname made her bite the inside of her cheek. That wasn’t fair. He always used that nickname when he was trying to get her not to be mad at her.

“Dameron, I haven't seen you since high school. It's no different.” She was mumbling before she took another gown. Rolling her eyes, she set off again to the dressing room where Rey was waiting for her.

“Dameron? Still angry, huh?” Scratching his neck, he thought maybe she'd already forgiven him, but that didn't seem to be the case.

“Still angry? No, that would mean I've been thinking about you all this time and that's not true. I haven't thought about you in quite a while."

“Ouch. I thought about you…”

Poe's statement made her stop for a while and she wanted to believe it, but it wasn't a good time. She was working and she had to concentrate on finding the right wedding dress for Rey. Poe could wait.

#Bridal Consultant AU #Poe Dameron x OFC #My oc #Mar's writing #My writing #Aurora Citlali #Awkward encounters with people from high school #Modern au

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metalgearkong · 4 years ago

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Ghost of Tsushima - Review (PS4)

9/21/20

Developed by Sucker Punch Productions, released July 2020

Let’s not beat around the bush: Ghost of Tsushima may be my favorite game of this console generation, and one of my favorite games of all time. This is a massive samurai tale crammed with unforgettable moments, characters, and environments. After finishing this game, I felt like I had been through no less than the peak samurai experience in any entertainment medium. Never before have I stood up and given a standing ovation for a video game upon the credits rolling. While feeling complete and filled to the brim, there are small technical aspects that do have room for improvement in the potential sequel. Sucker Punch came out of nowhere and knocked the world on its ass with a fantastic stylized epic feudal Japanese journey, one I can never forget.

Ghost of Tushima is open-world, easily comparable to The Witcher 3 or a modern Ubisoft title. What Ghost of Tsushima brings to the table is its incredibly realized medieval Japanese world, to the same extent Red Dead Redemption brought the mythic American Wild West to life. Authenticity can be found in every corner, and I set the game for Japanese voices and English subtitles to extend the immersion (something I can’t recommend enough). The Mongols have invaded Japan, and their first stop is Tsushima island. The samurai here are all that stops the massive army from reaching the mainland. The details themselves might not be perfectly accurate to 1274 Japan, but the world itself is consistent, which is what’s most important.

The game begins with a huge battle, as we take control of our main character Jin Sakai (Daisuke Tsuji / Kazuya Tsuji) right away. An orphan raised to be a samurai by his uncle Lord Shimura (Eric Steinberg / Akio Otsuka), Jin holds guilt and shame for not being able to save his father in battle when he was young, and strives to be the best warrior possible. The explosive intro gives us a quick intro to the open combat, and leads in to a fairly typical tutorial, adding in brief lessons on stealth, and using evasive tactics & tools. I remember how panful the combat first felt, as each strike looked like something akin to a samurai film. The main villain and leader of the Mongols Khotun Khan (Patrick Gallagher / Tsutomu Isobe) establishes himself as a despicable person, and someone totally opposite to the samurai honor-bound code of combat. He wants to conquer Tushima by any means necessary, and Jin is the only one willing to adapt his fighting style to combat this new dishonorable and overwhelming threat.

Jin Sakai is closer to a Geralt, rather than a blank slate avatar character of a Fallout or Elder Scrolls game; He has a specific personality, background, and motivation. Part of the overarching story is Jin learning to rely on tactics he would normally frown upon in order to stand a change against the Mongol forces. This is something his uncle highly detests and forbids Jin to do, leading to a secondary conflict in the story. This is useful for also explaining in the gameplay why the player can either face enemies out in the open, or scurry around and stabbing them in the neck. Of course, most players will do a bit of both, and whatever suits the situation of how you’re feeling in the moment. The best part is, it’s not an binary dilemma, as open combat and stealth can be used completely intermixed at any time.

Personally, one of my favorite parts about the game was unlocking and finding new apparel and color schemes for my outfits. This game (eventually) allows you to dress anywhere from humble peasant, to shinobi of the night, to fully armored samurai warrior. My only nit pick is I wish the game gave you more cosmetic options to buy or find earlier in the game, as I felt limited to just a few outfits and accessories at first. There’s nothing more awesome than manually sheathing your sword after slicing up a dozen grunts, all the while your cape and robes aggressively blowing in the wind. The game allows you to manually bow and play a flute as well, adding the immersion of every moment of the game. You travel the huge island via horseback, and can summon your horse at any instance with the push of the button. I also love how quickly you pick up items, by merely pushing R2. No needless animations or time spend slowing the momentum for the sake or grit or realism.

One of the most unique aspects of the game is using the wind as your guide. If you really wanted to, you’d never have to open your map to know how to get to your current quest. Simply swipe up on the touch pad, and the wind blows in the direction you need to go (the game doesn’t even feature an in-game minimap or radar). This kicks up leaves, twigs, sand, and other particles which add greatly to the visual appeal of the game, and help make you feel closer to the environment itself. Adding to this is how foxes and birds can lead you to hidden secrets, upgrades, or new gear. With so few HUD elements, focus on paying attention to the environment, and the gorgeous lighting and scenery, Ghost of Tsushima gave me to many moments where I felt spiritually uplifted in its world. Despite not having the budget of a super high end Naughty Dog or Rockstar game, Ghost of Tsushima remains one of the most beautiful games I’ve ever played, and much of that leans on the art style and environmental effects alone.

Missions are equally entertaining whether they come from a main character or minor character you happen upon. Most quests may involve (but aren’t limited to) tracking, fighting, sneaking, climbing, riding, and spying. I especially enjoyed quests with specific limitations, such as having to remain undetected and not to kill any guards. Eventually, however, due to the game’s long length, some of the missions do start to show their repetitiveness, and I don’t think it would have been horrible if the overall run time was 10-15% shorter. I also enjoyed the fact that so much effort was put into side activities that feel serene and peaceful, akin to the Buhddist and Shinto side of being a samurai. Composing haikus and bathing in hot springs to increase your total health felt very much in the spirit of a Bushido lifestyle; always a calm in between the storms of violence. The fact that not all side content is action oriented was a very neat and authentic detail.

Samurai duels were some of my favorite parts of the game. Occasionally Jin would come across an opponent or rival with legitimate swordsmanship skills, and has to face them in an arena. These locations where the duels would take place never failed to be more epic than the next. Duels act like boss fights in the game, and incorporate similar combat to the regular open world combat--only Jin can’t use secondary items such as kunai, his bow, or smoke bombs. These moments were ripe for the photo mode, something I used throughout this game constantly, as its packed with incredible environmental design and lighting effects to make almost every moment and location feel like a living painting. Samurai duels were usually never very difficult, including the ending boss fights, but they always looked awesome and felt damned satisfying.

The game does suffer from some minor technical glitches, but these small drawbacks mean next to nothing compared to how impressively the rest of the game was designed and executed. Frequently I would approach an enemy group and want to initiate a stand off (the samurai version of a high noon cowboy duel) but the game either didn’t give me the option or the option blinked on screen for only a moment and I was unable to do it. Something similar would happen for stealth kills, as sometimes instead of doing the assassination animation when prompted, Jin just did a regular slash attack instead, blowing my cover. Situations like this didn’t happen often, but were consistent enough to notice. I give Sucker Punch a huge pass on these small technical details, as they never ruined my experience of the game, remaining small frustrations on occasion.

Ghost of Tsushima is a greatest hits of iconic feudal Japanese visuals, sounds, tropes, settings, and themes. Countless details build upon this heightened version of Japanese history, making this game an all in one interactive Kurosawa film. Everything from the sword duel boss fights, to the multiple fighting stances, to the stealth, to the nature surrounding you, everything has been executed with extreme skill and thoughtfulness. It can have its small moments showing a lack of polish either in the visuals or mechanics, but Sucker Punch more than accomplished what they set out to do. Ghost of Tsushima is the best PlayStation 4 exclusive, and by far one of my favorite games of all time. If you have any interest in the open world genre, and love the Japanese culture and art style, Ghost of Tsushima likely won’t let you down. An amazing adventure wreathed in katanas, honor, blood, wind, and cute foxes.

9.5/10

#ghost of tsushima #ghostoftsushima #jin sakai #PS4 #exclusive #sony #Playstation #Playstation 4 #playstation4 #review #playstation exclusive #open world #feudal japan #samurai #ninja #shinobi #honor #betrayal

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years ago

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Do you have any tan lines? Nope. Have you ever wished you could stop time? Yes. I’ve also wished I could speed it up. Is there any pictures on the wall you're in? Yeah, there’s several. Who was the last person who called you? My mom. Did you make any money today? No.

Have you ever fallen and twisted your ankle? No. What was the highest place you've ever jumped from? I haven’t jumped from anywhere. Have you ever gone swimming in a river? No. Ever been so unfortunate to slip on wet rocks? Nope. When was the last time you got completely soaked by rain? It’s been a long time. One of the times that comes to mind is when my mom, aunt, a former friend, and I were at an outdoor festival and we got caught in an unexpected rain storm. It just started pouring down hard and we were not prepared at all. We had to run back to our car, which was parked a good distance away and yeah we were absolutely soaked.

Is there something you really want to buy at the moment? I’d love to be able to book a beach vacation getaway. Would you ever consider culinary school? No. I’m not a cook and have no interest in trying to become one. Do you ever watch the clouds, to see if they look like objects/animals etc? I did when I was a kid sometimes. When was the last time you didn't want to get out of bed? That’s me everyday. It’s a real struggle. Are you excited for anything coming up in the near future? No. My foreseeable future consists of more doctors and appointments and struggles and spending most of my time in bed. Speaking of dancing, do you know any real dance moves? I know them, but I can’t do them. Do you save cards from your birthday/x-mas, etc? Yes. What was the last souvenir someone got you? A shirt. Do you have a favorite remix of a song? One of my favorite covers is Adele’s cover of George Michael’s “Fast Love” that she preformed at an award show in honor of him after he died. I can only describe it as hauntingly beautiful. I really wish she would have released a studio version of it. When was the last time you printed something off? I don’t recall; it’s been awhile. Are you one of those people who can learn music/songs by ear? No, I wish. There was a guy in my piano class I took my senior year in high school that could do that. It was really cool. Has the power gone out recently? No, but I have a feeling it will happen soon. It always does when we have a lot of triple digit degree weather, which is what this week has consisted of. Do you like driving at night? I don’t drive, but I like nighttime drives. Like, whenever I travel I love leaving really early when it’s still dark out. It’s a different experience. Does seeing roadkill make you sad, or just grossed out? Both. Does wearing heels make you feel sexier? I don’t wear heels. What do you think is the most saddest sounding instrument? The piano can sound that way. What day do you go back to school (if you're in school)? I’m forever done with school. When was the last time you've gone shopping with a friend? It’s been a few years. Do you ever go out to dinner with your Mom? We haven’t physically gone out to eat for dinner in quite a long time. What is your favorite kind of salad dressing? Ranch. Have you ever bought fireworks? Not me personlly, but my dad and brother do every 4th of July. Do you really pay attention to the ratings on movies? Sometimes, but I ultimately decide if I want to see it or not. Have you ever snuck in to a theater/dance/bar etc? No. If given the chance, would you go to Ireland? Sure. Who was the last person/website to send you an email? I don’t feel like checking. Has your phone ever rang and scared you? Yeah. I’m such a jumpy person anyway. If you have a cat, does it ever "converse" with you? I don’t have a cat. If given the chance, would you ever fly in a fighter plane like the F-16? No. Are you afraid of standing on the edge of hills/skyscrapers/cliffs etc? Uh, YES. Do you have a favorite species of wild cat (tiger/lion/cougar etc)? No. Do you support the funds designed to protect endangered animals? (Like WWF). I haven’t done much myself to support them, but I’m glad they exist. What type of a drunk are you? (Obnoxious, calm, emotional, violent, etc) I was a chatty drunk. I feel like I was annoying, ha. I was also the sad drunk. Do you have an absolute favorite name (boy or girl)? I love the name Alexander. Are you good at pronouncing foreign words? Uhh, depends. If you're not already, when do you plan on getting married? I don’t want to get married. Can you tolerate the smell of cigarette smoke? Nooo. It honestly makes me sick, like I get lightheaded and dizzy, I get nauseous, and I get a really bad headache. When listening to music, do you usually tap your foot etc to the beat? I sometimes tap my fingers and hands. Have you ever literally cried on a friend's shoulder? No. Was there something that "made your day" today? It literally just turned midnight, so today is just now starting. Do you have a favorite kind of chocolate bar? White chocolate. Are you happy that it's summer? Ugh, no. It’s hot and miserable. Is there anything that you should be doing right now? I’m about to make my nightly bowl of ramen. Has anyone had expectations that you just couldn't live up to? (finishing this a couple hours later...) That’s how I’ve been feeling. Are you currently in a relationship? If so, how long have you been dating? Nope. Would you ever consider being a DJ at a party if you were paid? Nah. Have you ever tried those electric toothbrushes? Wow, this question makes it seem like they’re so futuristic and rare lol. Yes, I use electric toothbrushes. Are you or anyone you know devoted to "being green"? Not overly so, no. When it comes election time, do you vote (if you're old enough)? Yes. What was the last movie you watched that was on TV? I watched Fear 1994 on Netflix recently if that counts. How long have you had an account on bzoink? I don’t have an account on bzoink. Do strapless bras work for you? I don’t like them. I only wear them if I have to, like with a dress. Do you have a favorite hair elastic that you use almost always? No. Has anyone told you that they wanted to marry you/ were planning on it/etc? No. When you were younger, did you have a yoyo? I did. I couldn’t do any tricks, though. What was the last video game you played, if any? Animal Crossing: New Horizons. Has anyone ever called you nerdy? Yeah. Have you ever had to call 911? Yes. Has there ever been a tornado near where you live? No, fortunately. Are you a rollercoaster addict? Noo. I’m a big scardy cat. Do you feel comfortable enough to wear short shorts? No. I’m very self-conscious about my legs. About my body in general, really. If you have iTunes, do you find the Genius recommendations helpful? I don’t even recall what that is; I haven’t used iTunes in almost 10 years. Are you quick at looking up numbers in phonebooks/ words in dictionaries? Phonebooks, wow. I haven’t used a phonebook or actual dictionary in yearsssss thanks to the Internet/Google. Have a favorite actor/actress from Old Hollywood? (Marilyn Munroe, etc) Lucille Ball. Out of Biology, Chemistry and Physics, which are you the best at? None of those. Is there a friend you can always talk to about anything? I don’t have any friends. Can you stand spicy foods? Not anymore. :( It’s gotta have like barely anything like McDonald’s or Taco Bell mild hot sauce type of stuff. It’s wild because I used to be obSESSED with spicy food. I put hot sauce on everything and had a high spicy tolerance. Then a few years ago I developed a sensitivity and I can’t even have red pepper flakes now. It sucks. What's your opinion on people who stretch their ears? Hey, do what you want. I’ll admit the really stretched out lobes freak me out, though. Do you think tattoos are expressive art or unattractive? To me they can be either one, it just depends. What is your school mascot? -- Do you find black and white photos to be pretty? Yeah. Food you make doesn't taste as good as food made by others, true? Sometimes. Especially foods like sandwiches for some reason. I think they’re way better when my mom or a deli makes them. Is there a certain color that doesn't look good on you? I don’t think I look good in anything, so. Have you ever heard anything interesting about Nova Scotia, Canada? Not that I can recall. Have you ever seen a bear in the wild? No, thankfully. Do you know when you will get to see your significant other next? I’m single. What's the book you're currently reading? ”Such a Good Girl” by Willow Rose. Is your room currently a disaster? No. If going to a concert, do you prefer it to be outside or in a stadium? Definitely in a stadium.

Do you have a case for your camera? I use the camera on my phone, which I do have a case for. Can your cellphone take a beating? I’ve dropped it a few times and so far so good. Is there a month you prefer over others? October and December. Do you ever buy lottery tickets? Just a couple of times. Can you recall the most disturbing movie you've ever seen? A Clockwork Orange is one. Are you more of a tape or a glue person? Tape. Of course, it does depend on what I’m doing. In some cases, glue is the better option. Has anyone you know gotten mono? Not that I know of. What is/or was your graduating year? I graduated UC in 2015. Have you had a weird dream lately? All my dreams are weird. Have you ever gotten an autograph from someone famous? Yes. Do you own a pair of slippers? No. Do you ever watch VHS movies anymore? No. I don’t even recall the last time. Has your computer ever decided to completely erase itself? No, but I’ve lost stuff because of viruses back in the day. :(

Only when the power goes out do we realize how much we rely on it, true? It definitely becomes quite apparent quite quickly. Have you ever picked an apple off the tree and eaten it? No. Can you say yes / no in different languages? ”Si” and “No”, ha. Are you good at styling your own hair? No. Especially not anymore since I just don’t have the motivation or energy to do anything with my hair, which is why it was always up in a bun. I finally just cut it really short and have been wearing a cute wig if I go somewhere cause that’s all I can to do right now. I am sad, though. It was so long. Out of the traditional superheroes, which one is your favorite? The Scarlett Witch and Iron Man. What color is the shirt you're wearing right now? Black. Have you ever been lost? Physically and figuratively, yes.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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atamascolily · 4 years ago

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Shield of Lies has a “Two Towers”-type narrative structure, where we spent one third of the book with Lando, Luke, and Leia respectively instead of switching back and forth. At least it makes it easier to focus on the parts I’m interested in?

The cover art is very generic Star Wars, but I like the composition and the color scheme and the very ROTJ Luke with the green lightsaber. A+ work from Drew Struzan there.

The book has a Dramatis Personae, which is probably good because there are an awful lot of OCs here.

“Can’t you use the Force to speed us up?”

“You need a lever and a place to stand,” Luke said wryly. “The Force isn’t a magic wand—there are limits.”

“All limits exist in the mind, not the Universe,” Akanah said. “I’m surprised your tutors never taught you that.”

Luke shook his head. “Obi-Wan and Yoda both taught me to see that we limit ourselves by not trying and sabotage ourselves by believing we’ll fail.”

This is hilarious because Luke just spent most of the last book cursing how slow the ship was.

“No one’s been in the ship but us,” Luke said firmly. “And this isn’t going to be much of a partnership if you’re keeping secrets from me. Don’t you trust me, Akanah?”

“I know you to be a good man,” said Akanah. “But some of what you do and believe makes me uncomfortable. In the long run, I have never known a warrior or a soldier to be a friend.”

“I’m not a soldier,” Luke said softly. “And the lightsaber now only comes to my hand to protect people I care about. Is that a warrior, or a friend?”

It’s interesting to contrast the Fallanassi, who appear to be Actual Pacifists, with the Jedi, who are willing to get their hands dirty when necessary. Maybe because the Jedi deal with politics while the Fallanassi remain isolated? This could be a really interesting conversation, but mostly just skims the surface of the ethics here.

“But the Fallanassi change names, styles of dress, habits of speech, even the way we groom our hair, to blend in, to disappear. Unless I can be face-to-face with them, exchange the signs, let them feel me beside them in the Current, they would not reveal themselves, out of fear that I was not what I seemed to be.”

Makes perfect sense if they are masters of illusions not to trust anything based on their senses alone.

“Maybe there’s a way to do this without getting near the motivator. What do you have for tools?”

“I—I’m not sure. I thought you would use the Force somehow,” she said. “Bend a contact, or break a trace—”

Luke shook his head. “You have to know exactly how something’s put together before you try that sort of trick—and I’ve never even had my hands inside the access panel of an Adventurer.”

“You’re destroying all my illusions about the all-powerful Jedi,” Akanah said with a hint of a smile.

Laughing lightly, Luke climbed out of the pilot’s seat. “The truth is that, most of the time, the Force is no substitute for a tech droid or a tool kit. And I’ve never known a Jedi who wanted it to get around that he could fix broken appliances.”

This exchange would be more believable if Luke hadn’t just spent most of the first book RESURRECTING A FUCKING CASTLE WITH HIS MIND, I’m just saying.

“Boys and machines,” he could hear his Aunt Beru saying with bemusement. “What is it about boys and machines?”

His life then had consisted of little more than tinkering. The greater part by far of his chores on the farm had been trying to keep Uncle Owen’s motley collection of secondhand droids and second-quality moisture vaporators running. After chores, Luke had invested his free time in coaxing a little more speed from the XP-30 landspeeder he had rescued from the Anchorhead salvage yard, and tweaking the performance of the family’s T-16 skyhopper for those races in Beggar’s Canyon.

Teenage impatience had made him view Tatooine as a wasteland and the farm as a prison. But that world looked better seen through a filter of time and experience. And he realized belatedly just how much he had enjoyed those hours with his head and hands inside an engine service panel, in a simple, knowable world of which he was the master.

“You look happy,” said Akanah softly. She had returned from the flight deck without his noticing.

“I am,” he said, twisting and looking up at her. It was a surprising discovery.

Like, literally, Luke is depressed because he’s forgotten how to do things the slow way - I think that’s the lesson here? Contrast with Jacen’s insistence that he can use the Force for everything and doesn’t need to exercise his body (oddly, Jaina and Anakin don’t seem to believe this, just Jacen.)

At least you’re here to have it,” Luke said. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to feel guilty about saving you.”

“What about killing those two men—do you feel anything about that?”

“One of them killed himself,” Luke said, pulling his feet up out of the hatchway and turning to face her

ANSWER THE QUESTION, LUKE!!!

Luke eased himself back against the bulkhead on his side of the compartment. “I guess the truth is that, at the moment, I wasn’t particularly worried about whether I killed him or not.”

She shook her head slowly. “That is so hard for me to understand—how you could not be aware of the power in your hands.”

“The power that mattered to me was the power to protect you from them,” said Luke. “You told me afterward that you weren’t in any danger, but that wasn’t how it looked.”

“Yes,” said Akanah. “I understand that. But, Luke, there’s something I must ask of you—that you never again kill to save me. I am glad that you cared about me, but it makes my heart sick, my spirit heavy, to have the screams and the blood of those men in my memory, in the ruins of a place that I loved.”

“I don’t know if I can make you that promise,” Luke said. “I have my own conscience to satisfy. And sometimes it demands that I fight for my friends.”

“That you kill for your friends.”

“When it’s necessary.”

“Is that how you see the Jedi? Are they ready to kill to protect their friends on Coruscant?”

This is good, but Luke needed to have this conversation TEN YEARS AGO when he was first starting out, not ex post facto.

Luke’s gaze narrowed. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to understand,” Akanah said. “I want to know what your Jedi mean to the New Republic, and what the New Republic means to you. Are you training the Jedi Knights to be Coruscant’s warrior elite? What are you willing to do when the commander-in-chief calls on you?”

“That isn’t the way it works,” Luke said. “Leia doesn’t give orders to the Jedi. She can ask us for help-one of us or all of us—but we can refuse. And sometimes do.”

“But the Republic supports your academy. You had a military spacecraft in your hangar. Can you afford to offend them?”

“The Jedi aren’t mercenaries,” Luke said, an edge in his voice. “When we fight, it’s an individual choice—and it’s in defense of the principles of our creed. Coruscant supports the academy because the memory of the Jedi is a powerful force for stability. Our presence is what they want most.”

“That’s the part of the tradition that concerns me,” said Akanah. “The guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic for a thousand generations, or so the legend has it. But if you cannot have both peace and justice, which will you choose?”

“Which would you have me choose?”

“I would choose for you to keep your great gifts beyond the reach of politicians and generals,” she said. “For you to owe them no debts, and take on no causes—”

“I’ve been careful to protect our independence,” said Luke. “Despite appearances.”

“You aren’t sworn to uphold the government on Coruscant? You’ve taken no oaths of allegiance?”

“No. Only those few who’ve chosen to serve in the Fleet, or the ministries. It’s not forbidden. But it’s not common. The Jedi aren’t the Republican Guard. And never will be.”

And at the same time, the Jedi are not answerable to the New Republic for what they do (see: Kyp Durron). So they have power and influence without accountability within the New Republic government. Fortunately, they’re all well-balanced and stable warrior-monks, so there’s no way this can ever go wrong! *cough cough*

“That’s something,” she said. “But how much better it would be if the most powerful symbol of your order—the very emblem of that long tradition—was something other than a deadly weapon.”

“We didn’t ask for that,” Luke said. “It just happened. Old weapons have a cachet.”

“All weapons have a cachet,” said Akanah with sorrow. “Too many men want to either conquer the world or change the world. The second is nearly as dangerous to living things as the first. Can you tell me why is it not enough to find a safe and comfortable place in the world, or—at worst—to find shelter from the world?”

Luke frowned. “No. I can’t.”

I think Luke is grasping at straws here. How does he know it “just happened” that their symbol became a lightsaber? Maybe that’s what it means to him, but all Jedi in the past? Seems a bit of a stretch.

“But they’ll be looking for us everywhere now,” said Akanah from behind. “For you in particular.”

“Looking and finding are two different things. I’ve had to make a habit of disguising myself in public just to be left alone, to go where I please without being gawked at,” Luke said.

“How do you do that?”

“Oh—I make myself look older where youth is honored, and younger where age is honored, female where males are the ones who strut, male where they aren’t. It’s the nearest thing there is to being invisible, being unattractive.”

“Show me.”

Akanah saw his shoulders rise and fall, heard the deep breath that came out almost as a sigh. When he turned his couch toward her and looked up, she saw a sixty-year-old face that reminded her at once of everyone and no one. The eyes were unguarded but vacant, the expression open but bland. There was nothing distinctive about his features, nothing at all to remember him by or for.

So Luke is pretty decent at Force Illusions himself, even if it’s just for disguise purposes. (unlike Corran??)

“Very good,” she said. “May I try something?”

He gestured silently with open hands.

Drawing a shuddery breath, Akanah closed her eyes and moved the focus of her senses behind where Luke seemed to be, groping for an anchor in what was real. When she found it, she opened her eyes again and blew away the illusion with the soft breath of disbelief.

“There you are,” she said, and smiled.

“Very good,” he echoed. “It takes a strong mind to penetrate the illusion.”

This made me go “WHAT?”:

Luke knew he would have to return there when it was safe to do so, and wondered if something should be done to preserve the site. He wondered how the authorities on Lucazec would react if he asked them to protect his mother’s onetime home. If the burned-out ruin of the Lars farm could be rebuilt as a historic monument, perhaps the ruins of Ialtra could be rescued from a hostile neglect by the Skywalker name. Perhaps the reputation of those who had been driven from there could even be rehabilitated.

the thought of Skywalker pilgrimage sites in-universe is so funny to me, I don’t know why.

Located near the juncture of three busy spaceways and wearing a spectacular four-thousand-kilometer-long canyon like a dueling scar, Teyr was one of the New Republic’s boom worlds. Most of the boom was in visitors and vacationers. Fearing unbridled growth, Teyr’s leaders purposefully discouraged would-be immigrants with a maze of regulations, a series of successively higher application hurdles, and a determinedly officious Citizen Services Corps. The unofficial tourism motto was “Come see spectacular Teyr Rift. Then go home.”

LOL.

Anyway, they play at being tourists, and then it’s time for more ethics:

“You brought your lightsaber?” she asked, leaning toward him.

“Yes,” he said. “You sound surprised.”

“How did you get it through Arrival Screening? You can’t fool a scanner with Jedi mind tricks. Can you?”

“You can fool the person whose job it is to respond to scanner alarms,” Luke said. “But even that wasn’t necessary. Lightsabers are still the rarest weapons in the galaxy. There’s only one model of general security scanner that’s programmed to recognize them, and Teyr doesn’t use it.”

“Then what do they think it is?”

Luke smiled. “Most scanners misidentify a lightsaber as a type of shaver. Which I suppose it could be, in a pinch—if you were very, very good with it.”

She settled back in her seat. “I wish you had left it in the ship.”

“That’s asking too much,” Luke said. “I don’t carry it every minute, but I don’t like to be that far away from it. I’ve gotten in more tough spots because of not having it close enough than I ever have for carrying it.”

Akanah doubles down:

“Is there that much pleasure in killing, that it becomes something difficult to give up?”

Luke shot a hard glance across the bubble back at her. “What makes you think I take pleasure in killing?”

“That you won’t renounce it,” she said, turning to meet his gaze. “If I had caused a million deaths, I don’t think I could ever pick up a weapon again. I don’t understand how you can.”

With no ready answer, Luke turned his gaze back toward the flyway ahead. It wasn’t until years after the Battle of Yavin that Luke had first become aware that the Death Star he had destroyed at Yavin had a complement—officers, crew, and support staff—of more than a million sentients.

In retrospect, it was something he should have realized without prompting. But it took a new Battle of Yavin display at the Museum of the Republic on Coruscant to point it out to him. When Luke thought of the Death Star, he associated it with Vader and Tagge and Grand Moff Tarkin, with the stormtroopers who’d tried to kill him in its corridors and the TIE pilots who’d tried to kill him above its surface, with the superlaser gun crews who had obliterated defenseless Alderaan.

But the signs at the massive cutaway model of the Death Star in the museum had spelled out the numbers in its table of specifications, and Luke could still recite them: 25,800 stormtroopers, 27,048 officers, 774,576 crew, 378,685 support staff—

“One million, two hundred five thousand, one hundred nine,” Luke said quietly. “Not counting the droids.”

The calm precision of the recitation brought a look of startled horror to her face.

I know, I know, this is pre-Mindor, but still... Luke isn’t even aware of it until a museum exhibit points it out?? Though the fact that he memorized the numbers implies that it weighs more heavily on him than he pretends.

“But you have to look at both sides of the ledger,” Luke went on. “Alderaan. Obi-Wan. Captain Antilles. Dutch. Tiree. Dack. Biggs—” Luke shook his head. “Sometimes your enemies don’t give you much choice—kill them, give up, or be killed. And if you think I should have done anything other than what I did—”

“The past is fixed, unalterable,” Akanah said. “What I care about is what you’ll do today, or tomorrow. I know your past—I know your heritage—and I have already seen you kill once. Can’t you understand how alien and abhorrent this is to me—to those who gave Nashira shelter?”

Luke is still locked in that damn duality, unable to see any options outside of the two extremes, this continues to be a theme ARRGH

“I move through the world without one,” she said. “Could you not do the same?”

Luke slowly shook his head. “Not while I still call myself a Jedi. It’s more than a weapon—it’s a tool for training the mind and the body. And it’s become part of me—an extension of my will.”

“And a way to enforce your will on others.”

He shook his head. “Most of the discipline of the lightsaber has to do with defense.”

“What about the rest?”

“The rest—the rest requires that you get close to your adversary, close enough to have to look them in the eye,” Luke said. “An old-fashioned idea, and a civilizing one. If all you want is to kill quickly, efficiently and impersonally, a blaster is a much better choice—the Emperor’s stormtroopers didn’t carry lightsabers, after all.”

“All of my nightmares are of places where there are men who want to kill ‘efficiently,’” Akanah said, turning her face back to the viewpane. “And the worst nightmare of all is to think that the only Universe that is, is such a place.”

Again, we’re back to dualism - lightsaber or blasters?. Luke is forgetting that Obi-wan was strategic about his lightsaber use - he didn’t just whip it out and slaughter the stormtroopers in Mos Eisley - he used the mind trick - and he only used it in the cantina after exhausting all the possible options. Akanah is asking him to look beyond, to consider a third way and he just. can’t. do it. ARRGH.

#star wars #eu fuckery #the black fleet crisis

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eliteprepsat · 4 years ago

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Your freshman year of high school is an especially exciting time. You’ve made it past middle school or junior high to the big leagues! Yet, your freshman year can also feel like an especially peculiar time in your academic career. This is because, although middle school or junior high is in your rearview, graduation likely seems a long way off, and you can find yourself asking: Is it too early to start planning for college?

The answer to the above question is this: While you don’t yet need to have your college application letters written or your dorm room posters packed, there are some practical steps you can take at this stage to ensure your success in both the college applications process and in your eventual transition to college life. To start thinking about these processes, here are 7 tips for what you should be doing to prepare for college as a high school freshman.

1. Create an academic roadmap

You might not yet know what you want your college major to be. And that’s OK! In fact, many college freshmen don’t yet know what they want their majors to be, and they only make this decision a year or two years into college—once they’ve completed all required coursework.

However, even without knowing what you want your college major to be, it’s a good idea as a high school freshman to create an “academic roadmap.” This will guide you through your high school studies and help prepare you for your college career. To create your academic roadmap, just ask yourself a few basic questions:

What are your strongest subjects?

You might consider taking Honors or even AP courses in these areas, since AP courses can help boost your GPA and (at some schools) even count toward college credit.

In what subject might you need a bit of extra help?

It might be a good idea to seek a tutor in this area.

What do you most enjoy learning about?

Knowing the answer to this last question is perhaps the most important because it can give you an idea of the field you might be interested in pursuing as a major in college and an eventual career after college. Additionally, knowing this can help you to pursue extracurricular opportunities related to the subject. These extracurriculars will not only be fun, but they will also help your admissions prospects when it does come time to apply to college.

2. Seek expert advice

In general, asking the questions above will help you to create a basic academic roadmap that can assist you in planning for your academic future. However, remember that you’re never alone in this planning. There are many experts out there with whom you can collaborate when creating your roadmap.

Most high schools have just such experts on hand to help you. Trusted teachers are, of course, a great place to start. But don’t forget to also seek the advice of guidance counselors, who are trained to discuss matters of the future with students. These counselors can help to ensure that you are taking the necessary classes required for admission to most colleges and universities. And, when the times comes, they will also be able to assist you with the college applications process. If you have any specific questions (such as if you should take the ACT or the SAT or what to expect when applying for college financial aid), just remember that your high school guidance counselor is your #1 resource for all matters of planning your academic career.

3. Familiarize yourself with the college experience

To be successful in college, it will do you well to know beforehand—to the extent that is possible—just what you’re getting yourself into. And, in part, you can familiarize yourself with the college experience by the courses you take in high school. Most high schools offer college prep courses, such as Honors classes, AP classes, and IB (International Baccalaureate) classes. While each of these class types differs somewhat, they are all similar in that they are more advanced than the average high school course; so, they can give you a good sense of the work load and level that will be expected of you in college.

Outside of your coursework, you can familiarize yourself with the college experience through good old fashioned word-of-mouth. If you have family or older friends who happen to be of college age, ask them about the transition from high school to college. What were their biggest difficulties? What were their happiest surprises? Having these conversations with trusted people who have recently gone through this experience can help you to anticipate and plan for your own college experience well in advance.

4. Build effective study habits

Much of college is spent studying. And for better or worse, there isn’t the infrastructure in place for studying in college that there is in high school. Once you get to college, mandatory study halls and time left at the end of class to get started on your night’s homework will be a thing of the past. So, it’s a good idea to build effective study habits now that will benefit you for many years to come. To this point, it’s important to know that there isn’t a “one size fits all” style of studying. The study techniques that work for your friends or classmates might not work for you.

So, what is your studying style? Do you work best first thing in the morning? Or into the very late hours of the night? Alone in your room or with a group of friends at a coffee shop? In complete silence or listening to your favorite tunes? Figuring out your studying style and building effective study habits now will save you a lot of time (and possible heartache) once you get to college!

5. Experiment with extracurricular activities

Again, it isn’t necessary to begin writing your college application materials as a high school freshman. However, you can make certain choices now that will help you to be a better applicant when you apply to college. And a big part of what makes you a better college applicant is your involvement in extracurricular activities.

The great part about being a freshman a few years out from college is that you still have a good amount of time to explore your interests and hobbies. But a helpful tip to consider is that you pursue both breadth and depth throughout this exploration. While it is definitely a good idea to try new things via a number of different extracurricular activities, it is also important to remember that your involvement in extracurriculars demonstrates your motivation and responsibility to college admissions committees. So, be sure to find at least one activity you especially enjoy that you can stick with consistently in order to showcase such commitment.

6. Complete a college scan

As a high school freshman, you don’t yet need to be going on college campus visits or scheduling interviews with admissions staff at your dream schools. These are steps you will likely want to consider taking in your junior year of high school. Rather than performing a formal college “search,” you might instead start thinking about what we could call a college “scan.” This, again, involves asking yourself some basic questions about what you’d like to get out of your college experience, scanning colleges for whether or not they fit your criteria, and narrowing down schools based on your preferences. Where would you like to study geographically? What size school would you prefer to attend? What specialized academic opportunities (such as study abroad programs or internships) would you like made available to you? As you complete high school and the college applications process nears, this initial scan will help you to have a more realistic view of where you’ll eventually apply.

7. Finally, don’t forget to enjoy high school!

It’s important to remember that a huge part of college is the experience outside of the classroom, meeting and socializing with your fellow students. Often, when one arrives at college, they are thrown into an environment where they know almost no one and are forced to live and make friends with new people rather quickly. And high school is a time to learn the skills necessary to effectively thrive in this scenario.

Of course, high school is also an important time to plan ahead by creating a foundation from which to be academically successful in college. But, there will be plenty of time for studying for exams and pulling all-nighters when college actually arrives. For now, remember that working 100% of the time is ultimately unhealthy for one’s mental and physical health.

According to an article from Forbes.com, working too much can lead to stress and—eventually—to burnout. “Burnout can cause fatigue, mood swings, irritability and a decrease in work performance.” And just as this can happen in the workplace, so too can this can happen in the study space. So, for now, remember to leave some time to have fun and enjoy high school. After all, maintaining this kind of work-life (or school-life) balance will help you to be more successful in your academic career in the long-run!

Stacy G. is a writer and teacher who has taught composition, literature, and creative writing courses at a number of public and private universities across the U.S. She has also taught SAT, AP English, and Literature SAT Subject Test courses at Elite Prep. She likes poetry, dogs, and poetry about dogs.

#college prep #high school #9th grade #college admissions #studyblr #study tips

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c-atm · 4 years ago

Text

Halloween tradition

Welcome, hunters! Defenders! Protectors! Human and not! Singled and partnered! Welcome to the Halloween Hunter Horde!" The master of ceremonies, a large, snow skinned person dressed in a ringmaster attire, yelled from their balcony perch to the crowd below, getting cheers and lift of wine glasses in their honor.

As was the tradition of the 'Hunters Horde.'

An annual party for hunters by the 'powers that be,' as the hunters recognized them. Truthfully, they were those who provided hunters help and assistance through various means.

Shops to exchange gems for standard currency, buy gear and accessories, and even buy domestic items. They provided information on hunts, places for hunters to exchange information, and settled disputes, and every year they did this.

Why?

Demon hunting is a lucrative business.

For the 'powers that be.'

Dressed in a purple-and-red, tattered coat with a frilly shirt, pink vest, pair of black pants, leather boots with metal soles and toes, a pair of gloves, a diamond necklace; Steven sighed as he looked at the drink in his hand, a cranberry wine, very sweet and tangy, the velvet red color was pleasing to the eye, but it wasn't his taste. Symbolic of his feelings towards this event.

There are a million things he wished he could be doing right now. All involving his firey mistress right now. Hunting with her, trick-or-treating with her, which was fun last year, dressed as Mirai Kuriyama and him, Akihito Kanbara from beyond the boundary.

"Simply adorable, she was." He mused, thinking of how excited she was to do something so child-like. How her face glowed with pride every time they were stopped for a picture or got a statement on how cute their couple cosplay was. The times when she acted in character, reciting the characters' infamous 'unpleasant' line as she adjusted her red frame glasses. She was entirely in character that year...a little to perfect.

"Still cannot believe she learned a bit of enchanting magic to create a blood blade," He muttered with a loving smile, "though she's also done one who learned demon transformation magic, so in retrospect maybe it's not insane." He shook his head; he was talking to himself, literally as violet was out on the floor, either watching and dancing with Ames or about to cause havoc with Ames. Either would be fine at this moment.

"Where is she?" He wondered as he looked around the room of their peers, hoping to see if his lady was still present, as she arrived before him from her day job or if she completely bailed and went home, leaving him alone in this...Networking event.

"No...she's still here. Just hard to tell with these senses diluting glyphs in place." Steven whispered, but he still felt her presence in the manor, scattered but there. 'Concerning in a way. Though, doubt anyone here would do anything that might put them in opposition with the 'powers that be.'' Steven thought to himself.

Still, he was expecting more... chaotic entertainment with a name like a hunter's hoard, so far everyone was tamed-chatting, dancing...info gathering.

"Well, if it isn't the flames witch's devil." A female voice said from the left of him.

He turned his head to see a demon hunter that they've come across a few times. Snow blonde hair, dark skin, voluptuous form dressed as a sexy witch, a small split skirt, tight corset top, purple silk cape, and black witches hat.

"Sarah did your 'nun' drag you here as well," Steven smirked as the witch nodded with a sigh.

"Yup, my sweet demoness thought it would be fun, plus networking is my forte, supposedly." She rolled her eyes while crossing her arms.

"Aren't you the top manager in an electronic insurance firm?"

"Aren't you a bisexual in a seemingly heterosexual relationship."

"Well, damn, who shit in your wine." Steven yielded with his hands up.

"No, I'm sorry." She sighed, "Just being here and not being able to feel Alicia's presence....Being so close to... ' Them.'

Steven nodded. He got it; the 'powers that be' are strangely intimidating, especially since no one knows precisely who they are...That, coupled with the sense dampening spell, would put any right partner on edge.

"Did you come with Alicia?"

"Strange question." Sarah arched her eyebrow, " but yeah...Of course."

"Hmmph. Well, at least you saw your partner."

Sarah's eyes widened at that before she smirked. "You didn't see trailblazer , huh..or what she was wearing."

"You have?" Steven took a sip of wine.

"Oh yeah." She tittered, "Actually, her and Alicia were sticking close to each other, talking with some other hunters."

Steven released a breath he didn't know he was holding. He was more relaxed now that he knew she was at least with a trusted ally. A demoness, yes, but Alicia's a fan of his firey lady and has been one since the azurite case; Where she saved the duo and a few others from a very oppressive spell. She's even the one that dubbed her 'trailblazer' for her aptitude with fire magic and her fierce attitude.

"So... How does my lady look?" His curiosity and enthusiasm in his voice.

"I can not say when you sound so ecstatic. It's like spoiling the climax of a movie."

"Fine, fine. I'll let myself be surprised. Can you at least tell me where you last saw her?"

Sarah was about to point left when it all happened. A body sailed across the sky, above the crowd, landing right between the two hunters.

Looking down, they saw the body was that a man with tan skin, a deep brown comb-over, and a broken, singed nose and cheek, dressed as speed racer; he groaned before losing consciousness.

"Where is that grabby little snake!"

A voice yelled within the crowd, a familiar voice.

A fiery voice.

Steven smiled as he watched the crowd all but part to give room to his blazing contractee as she marched her way through towards her victim and assailant, and his jaw dropped when he saw her.

She was dressed in a steampunk styled costume her consists of a purple and red-trimmed leotard with matching hot pants, a deep blue pleated skirt, black thigh-high socks, white boots, a pair of red mid-finger gloves, a headband, a pink diamond barrette, and ribbon around a lock of her hair. The costume, while not revealing, showed all her curves and brought both her charm and charisma to the surface.

"My Connie." He expressed in a daze getting her attention.

"Steven?" Her eyes expanded as she saw her partner, instantly forgetting the handsy little perv, in favor of her beloved demon embrace. Laughing as his hands found themselves at the curve of her back and her palms found his shoulder blades as she kisses his gem under his shirt. Getting a small shiver of appreciation.

She climbed out his arms, reluctantly to take a look at her partner in his outfit." So it's a costume party, and you came as a demon?" She teased, "a little on the nose there, don't you think."

"Ah, but you see, I'm now a love demon, all for you," he whispered, pulling her back into his hold.

"You gotta show me your credentials, later then."

She giggled, feeling his gentle lips on her shoulder. "So, you didn't say anything about my alchemist costume." She mumbled into his ear.

"Do I have to say how bewitching and tempting you are?" He teasingly admitted as he kissed her blushing cheeks.

"You just did, silly " She sighed, holding him close. She turned to Sarah and pointed toward the crowd, "Alicia's near the punch."

Sarah gave the two a grin before disappearing into the sea of people, leaving the two of them alone.

"So, having fun?" Steven asked, against her collar.

"Yea, it's been a blast." She started sarcastically, "talking shop, exchanging war stories and info about demons sighting called 'slashers'..." She sighed, "all while having people gawk at me with lewd eyes." She huffed.

"Well, you can't blame them. You make such an alluring alchemist." He moved his lips to her ear, "you'd have willing volunteers to experiment all across the land." His teasing cold breath tickled her ear, causing her to giggle.

[[More*]]

"Oh! no doubt," she carried on their play, nuzzling close. "Unfortunately, I have such a terrifying territorial terror as my partner. You'd chase them all away." She clicked her tongue in faux reprimand, kissing his temple. "Scientific succession stopped by my stingy Steven."

"I was yours first. Science can suck it."

"You're mine now."

"I'll be yours forever."

The earnest way he said it made her heart thumped and urged her to give him a tender kiss, humming throughout.

"Can we go somewhere more...Secluded, like.." She nodded her head towards the western wall, where there was a large enough balcony behind two glass doors, and no one was on it. Connie only giggled as Steven scooped her up and moved like a wisp of smoke towards their destination; unseen, and unnoticed by all.

They reappeared on the terrace almost immediately, Steven walking out of the smoke with Connie, still mid-laugh. He sat her down on her feet before watching her walk to the edge and sitting on top of it, facing him. "You'd catch me if I fall, right?"

"Of course, my lady. I am your partner." He smirked devilishly as he glided up to her, resting his hands beside her hips and his torso between her knees. Looking up at her somewhat mischievous face shining in the moonlight. "Are you planning a daring escape?" He teased.

"Actually, I might have...Sort of...Put one into action, already?" She confessed sheepishly.

"Huh?" Steven looked dumbfounded at his love. " What do you mean?"

"You'll find out."

"Does...does it have anything to do with that fool you laid out." He asked.

"Oh, gosh, no!" She exclaimed. "I put this into action, way before he grabbed my and Alicia's butt." She clarified, almost nonchalantly. She pulled him into a hold, feeling the rage from her best friend and partner, "No, we already handled it." She confirmed.

"But he..." Steven began only to be silenced by a small glare.

"It was nothing, my dapper demon. I promise. He touched and was punished for it..." she grimaced" Licia, just about ended his bloodline, if you catch my drift." She said, flexing her fingers as if she was holding something.

"Ooh." Steven breathed out, shaking his head." Still, wished that didn't occur."

"Yeah, cause only you can be perverse with me." She teased.

"Now, is it really perverse when it's with your lover, I prefer, intimate." He spoke in that devilishly dapper tongue that used to (and still at times) make her a blushing mess.

Connie, red face and eyes glowing by another emotional heat, chuckled. "Intimate, huh?" She pulled him closer.

"Yup." he rested his head on hers. "My actions are based on my love for you, my flame ."

"I never doubted that, my gem .." She chuckled. "Speaking of intimate...How long are you gonna keep your lady waiting?"

Steven didn't need anymore coaxing as they shared a deep kiss. Her hand holding his cheek, as he held her seat, her hot tongue twist, caress, and danced with his cooler one, creating a moment of warming love between the two. However, anyone else would see a small purple heart of flame around them.

Then a crash resounded from the inside along with the yells and laughter of Violet and Ames, causing general chaos.

"That's -chu- your -chu- plan?" He smirked through their kiss.

"Um -chu- hm !" She nodded, "let's go get us some candy -chu- get us a demon -chu- get a little hurt, -chu- and then spend the night dressing each other wounds, love demon. "

"Now, That's a plan fit for an alchemist." Steven said, deepening the kiss. " -CHU!- I missed you."

"I missed you too...Nothing like being able to sense you." She sighed as the kiss gain more depth.

-CRASH!-

" Let's not waste their hard work."

Steven smirked as he lifted his lady from the railing holding her in his arms, resuming their kiss as they sank into the sweet shadows that filled their flaming heart.

Off to spend their Halloween, their way.

---------;;;

For @meku95 Halloween contest

#steven universe #connie maheswaran #connverse #steven universe future #steven universe fanfiction #steven and connie #witchy #dapper #older steven #older connie #witch and demon au #halloween party #meku95

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