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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years ago

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All right, it’s that time of week again. Last week I ended up screenshotting like half the episode and stopping to comment nearly every few seconds, at times. But I can’t keep that up every week, so I’ll try to comment less this time, I have shit to do. I mean, I don’t, I’m waiting on a potential job offer at the moment but in the meantime have fuck all to do. So we’ll see how this goes.

Thoughts on Taskmaster s15e03, written as I watch it.

- Solid beginning-of-episode banter this week. I’ve said before that I think the funniest ones are when they have Greg accuse Alex of being right-wing. And it’s followed by Alex accusing Greg of “going all wacky with the scoring”, and giving out nine points or one point or seventeen points. I assume they just stick these auto-cue things wherever and it’s not a specific reference to anything, but that does fit in well after the very up and down scoring of the previous episode. Good start. I also like the prize task, lots of room for differing definitions of “heroic”.

- Oh, Ivo. It was such a good idea. Worked in Greg’s love of food-based prizes, Greg’s love of Greg-based prizes, and some wordplay with Hero chocolates. The fact that I was so impressed with the description makes the screenshot even funnier, for how much of a contrast it is to see something so disappointing.

Do we think Ivo made that himself? Normally with something like that, I’d assume the production crew made it. They probably did in this case, I guess. But I can picture Ivo making that.

- Ivo:

Me: And we’ve now brought back what I was talking about in the first episode, where Mae and Ivo are the two people competitive enough to put effort into pandering to Greg just for a few extra points, but when Mae does it it comes off as impressively calculating, and when Ivo does it, it comes off as desperate. Not because they do it particularly differently, it’s just the difference in their personas.

Ivo:

Oh good, glad we’re on the same page.

Also, great screenshot, I feel like the way they’re all looking at Ivo and his desperation really summarizes the group. We can’t even see Frankie’s face but we can still see he’s mentally calling Ivo pathetic. Jenny’s game to play along, and entertained by the strange display. Kiell’s not having it, shaking his head. And Mae’s glaring at him like, “Being competitive enough to pander to Greg is my thing, how dare you steal it?”

...I would like to apologize for suggesting Mae and Ivo were the only people on this season willing to go that far for points.

Okay, it’s possible that everyone but Frankie would throw their own cat under a car in order to win this season. I approve of that level of play.

- Kiell’s prize actually turns out to reference the Enrique Iglesias song, making him the second person to do a play on the word “hero”. I approve of that level of play.

- Okay. They’re going to relase an outtake or something with uncensored screenshot of Frankie Boyle’s prize, right? They can’t just leave us with that.

You have to zoom in a little to see it, but I enjoy this screenshot of everyone looking at Frankie Boyle’s image of explicit superhero fanart, because of the one person who isn’t looking at it. Mae Martin is looking at Frankie with an expression that makes me remember their stand-up set from like 2015 in which they mentioned reading explicit Harry Potter fanfiction, specifically of the Bellatrix/Hermione variety, as a teenager. They’ve heard of this before.

- Actually, I rewound the video after writing that point becacuse I’d missed a bit, this screenshot from right after they first put Frankie’s prize on the screen is pretty good too:

You know, when it was first announced that Frankie Boyle would be on this show, there was a lot of talk about how weird that would be, given that Frankie’s known for being an evil scary bulldozer or whatever, and this show is a fun light entertainment. And I said I’m excited to see Frankie show how much that isn’t true, how he is very vulgar but the most definitive features of his comedy aren’t even about that, they’re about the fatalistic attitudes and attempts to tie together disparate philosophies. One of the few reactions to Frankie’s casting that I heard and thought was actually accurate about Frankie Boyle came from Nish Kumar, who said Frankie is very well read and intelligent so that’ll be interesting. Nish made it sound like Frankie should be grouped more with the Victoria Coren-Mitchell type of contestant, the really book smart people thrown into another world (not that it works out well for most of them), than with people known for being scary and angry. I think this is true.

…Having said that, I’m pretty sure Frankie Boyle just became the first person to ever bring in explicit pornography as a Taskmaster prize (correct me if I’m wrong, because I could be forgetting something, I’m pretty sure even Rhod Gilbert didn’t go as far as that), and that would be exactly what someone would expect if all they knew about Frankie Boyle came from YouTube compilations of his “most savage” Mock the Week moments and “audience annihilation” stand-up. However, despite all of that, I think I continue to approve of this level of play.

- Me, when I first woke up this morning: How come this old post I made last year suddenly got a bunch of new notes?

Me, after seeing this:

Ah, that would explain it.

- Slightly weaker entry from Mae considering their strong prize task efforts from the last couple of episodes, but I did enjoy them calling Ivo a coward for no reason whatsoever.

- I think Frankie got underscored here, but he was overscored in the prize task from the first episode so it evens out.

- I can’t stop thinking it so I’m going to say it one fucking time and then I’ll be done, okay?

Mae Martin looking really pleased with themself in a white shirt is... that’s pretty good. That a pretty good thing. I mean, if I were Charlotte Ritchie, I know which one I’d choose (no fault of Kiell’s, as people of his gender are rarely my top choice in that type of thing). Sorry, I needed to mention it. We can all move on now.

- …Starting to wonder if there might be anything problematic in my continued jokes about the idea the Mae Martin and Kiell Smith-Bynoe are competing for the affections/hand in marriage of Charlotte Ritchie, just because they both played her partners in sitcoms. Feeling the need to clarify that I am aware that Charlotte Ritchie is a person with her own autonomy, I just think the phrase “battle of Charlotte Ritchie’s husbands” is funny. Okay, now we can move on.

- I’ve enjoyed this greatly so far, but my first proper laugh out loud of the episode didn’t come from any of the prizes, it came from Greg telling Alex to “get fucked” over a time/thyme pun. I approve of that level of play, Alex.

- Oh, I really like this task. A good level of difficulty, I think. And lots of room for different methods on both time keeping and word listing.

- Frankie immediately makes a good point - I bet stand-up comedians are, on average, better than most people at keeping time in their heads because they have to know how far they are into the allotted time for their set. I was just thinking of that last night, when I was at a comedy show and the comedians got no indication of the time until the guy running the night came to awkwardly stand in the corner and indicate they had to wrap it up (the actual comedy clubs have a red light, this pub has a guy who stands there awkwardly, it’s rather less subtle). I thought if I ever tried this, I’d put a timer on my phone and leave it somewhere visible to me, but the comedians I saw didn’t do that. So I guess people do get used to keeping time in their heads, with practice.

I assume all of these people are now going to fuck it up and disprove this theory, I’m just saying it makes theoretical sense for Frankie Boyle to be right that stand-up comedians should be able to time twenty minutes in their heads.

- Damn. Frankie Boyle’s Taskmaster instincts are obviously weak, not even noticing any of the devices that were clearly put there so people could try to figure out how to use them (students of the game Mae and Ivo will be all over that stuff, and I imagine Kiell and his competitiveness will also be looking for tricks). But his stand-up instincts remain strong. Doing 23 minutes when he was supposed to do 20 sounds like what Frankie would probably do in a comedy club normally.

Jenny Eclair not so much, but to an amusing degree. I did like her system of repeating the same word over and over, and then she was so pleased with herself for coming up with it that she got too into it that and lost track of time.

- Alex:

Me: So Ivo loses his mind in a caravan and they’re saving him for last. Great.

- Having now seen Mae and Kiell’s attempts, I feel this is a sort of play about the generational divide. Frankie and Jenny rely on their innate sense of timekeeping, a skill developed over years of applying their trade. The younger ones, Mae and Kiell, try to find tricks and shortcuts that will give them the answer. But then, they find that their tricks don’t work, those new-fangled devices like watches and clocks on top of caravans fail them, because we should never rely on devices alone, we need to have our own independent skills like our ancestors did! But then, in another twist, the young people adapt to this development, rely on their wits and their instincts, and it ends up actually working. Mae’s last-minute instincts worked even better than Frankie’s careful skill, and Kiell’s worked almost as well. And they both worked much better than Jenny’s, because when I say the older people had the skills I really just mean Frankie, it turns out Jenny Eclair has no idea how long a minute is.

- Right, I was expecting Ivo to lose his mind. Wasn’t quite expecting him to forget how to count to 40.

- I feel like this is a pretty good screenshot for summarizing what Taskmaster does to people:

- Actually I think this is a more thorough summary, because it still shows us a guy staring in bafflement at a row of hour glasses and saying “Mississippi”, but it also includes the omnipresent sense of Alex watching and judging them while they fall apart:

This one captures that especially well, with Ivo literally framed in a window like he’s a zoo animal put there for Alex’s enjoyment.

- Oh, Ivo found the clock. And it appears to actually be working, I’d assumed Alex was joking when he said it was working at first and just broken for Mae. That’s not really fair to Mae, if they only didn’t get a non-working clock due to rain. However, it’s not going to help Ivo unless he knows what time he went in there.

- And he just tried to pull it through a sunroof that’s barely half its size.

- I do not understand what Ivo is doing. He’s now using the clock, the hourglasses, and has shouted at random people on the street. The latter of which is not a bad idea. How could would it be to live near the Taskmaster house and just walk around out there during filming days, in case someone needs to shout for help with a task, or Johnny Vegas needs to bag you like a Christmas tree or something? Anyway, Ivo seems to have done some math that is based on the assumption that he’d been in the caravan for 13 minutes, but doesn’t explain how he got to that assumption.

- Oh shit, it kind of worked, though. The overall lesson here is that no careful system works as well as just throwing stuff at the wall and making shit up.

- Oh, the tension at the end. You know, I thought I caught Kiell’s mistake with the world length while they were showing his video, but then I got distracted by Mae and figured I probably imagined it. I didn’t catch Mae’s though.

- After we learn that Jenny Eclair gets three whole points despite her terrible time, we get a screenshot that I think might also summarize the generational divide, this one in whether they know how to spell words:

Also, I did not think of Jenny’s trick to just use the same word over and over, but the obvious thing to do would just be to list 40 four-letter words, right? That can’t be that difficult, there are so many of them. Or if that’s too hard, 20 of four letters and 20 of 3. Or split it into 4, 3, and 2. That has to leave less room for error than the system of starting with a really long word and getting progressively shorter. Is what I did think earlier in the task, but then I got distracted by seeing Mae try to climb on a roof, and I forgot to write it down. But at the end, we see that yes, it turns out it was important to create a system that leaves little room for error.

- Ooh, first look at the indoor section of the location tasks:

Interestingly desolate and mildly creepy, I like it. Also, it seems that they are sticking with a potato theme for this season.

- They’re also sticking with the “callbacks to season 2″ theme, it seems. Last week they had a potato bridge, and a potato across the untouchable red green task. This week it’s reminiscent of the live task that very controversially won Katherine Ryan the season when they had to throw rabbits into their hats.

- Never mind, I was wrong in my initial assessment. They’re not throwing things into their hats like in season 2. It’s much more like the season 6 live task, when they had to sit there and let things fall, and catch some things but not others.

- Okay, this has created more proper, out-loud laughter than anything else this episode. Well done, Alex, you were absolutely right in your theory that it’s very funny to watch comedians sit on a chair and get hit on the head with objects.

- This is basically a cartoon:

- Jenny Eclair’s uncontrollable laughter while being pelted by potatoes is fucking delightful.

- There has to be a better way to do it than that, a way to get more than four points. But not a way to have more fun than Jenny, probably.

- I just saw Ivo refuse a pen because the task said they can’t touch anything, and that’s an interesting point. I understand the impulse to argue that, but I don’t know how you would. They all touched their hats and the stool.

- In another slightly adjacently season 2-related thing, the person putting stuff on the machine happens to look like Lucy Beaumont:

- And they’ve found a trick. But like with the people who wrote it down or memorized it, it immediately becomes clear that knowing the pattern doesn’t help you all that much in the heat of the moment for this task. This task isn’t about memorizing or reading patterns, it’s about comedians getting hit on the head with stuff, and Jenny Eclair laughing really hard on a stool.

- Apparently I wrote the previous point too soon - knowing the pattern doesn’t help when you fall apart as hard as Ivo, but Mae had it for a while! Of course Mae had it, how could I have doubted Mae? Again: Mae calculating, Ivo desperate. Mae staring intensely at the wall pattern, careful to not to lose focus for a moment. Ivo sitting back and narrating his own defeatist breakdown while being pelted by potatoes.

- Current episode title drop tally: Ivo 2, Frankie 1

- Holy hell, it looked like Mae had done well but it was hard to tell if that was just editing. But no, I’ve just heard the scores and it turns out Mae Martin’s brilliant. Also, I haven’t yet heard the verdict on the touching thing, but it’ll be ridiculous if anyone gets disqualified, unless they all do. They all touched the hats, at least. Ivo held the task (like, the physical paper on which the task was printed) the whole time. Everyone touched stuff. You can’t enforce the rule about touching literally nothing, because it can’t be followed. They had to touch their clothes and their shoes and the air.

- Again, I don’t think Greg let anything “slide” there, it’s an unenforceable rule. But it does mean Jenny leaned over to confirm the result with Mae, and Mae responded with a good enough smile to make the silly debate worth having.

Okay, okay, now I’m done talking about that, really.

Excellent. I’m right with you, Greg.

- And it’s a team task! I haven’t seen the task yet, but good start if we know they’ll be taking these particular teams and making them do unreasonable and prolonged violence together.

I’d call this a different type of awkward, but almost an equal level of it, to their first meeting last week, when they could barely even look at each other. I have no idea what’s going on, but glad to see it’s developing laterally, instead of into any sense that anyone is going to relax. Now bring on the violence!

- Before I learned who was in the season 15 cast, if you asked me what screenshot I’d most like to see appear on a Taskmaster episode someday, this one would look pretty fucking good:

- This one’s pretty good too, actually:

- Other stuff aside, it is interesting to have them do it in slow motion and then speed it up. That has to be a complicated thing to figure out and might cool or might be a disaster. Nice addition to the task. Also weapons. Weapons are a good addition to any task.

Good stuff. Someone cast these people in an action movie.

- All right, the Kiennae (does that one work?) fight gave me several significant laughs, well done. Obviously pitting the other two against Jenny was the right call. The weapons were well used. The umbrella was a lovely touch. Made use of the shed. Also, this is a big episode for Jenny Eclair having the time of her life. I see why they got her on the podcast this week, she’s loving this.

I’d happily watch this task get put into every episode. Different fight each time.

- Okay, I don’t know what I expected from the Franko fight, but that was… actually quite good. I was ironically saying the previous one looked like it could be an action movie, but this one had it down. The initial stuff with Frankie and Ivo had proper choreography.

And then… could they spin a narrative here? I haven’t watched the studio bit yet, but I’m going to say if they wanted to, they could argue that this was social commentary. Posh Englishman starts a fight with working class Celtic man (I mean, Frankie hasn’t been able to claim working class for a long time, but he was once), fights for a bit but then calls in servants to fight the battle for him, as they kick his opponent to the ground while the posh man reads a book about flower arranging. It’s an allegory for British history. There’s an argument that there’s a narrative here, and Greg loves a narrative.

- Okay, I had a couple of seconds of being disappointed that their narrative was one of eviction notices an not of historical allegories, before being hit with the news that those were Frankie Boyle’s actual children kicking the shit out of him. Holy hell, that is so cute. The real narrative is that the evil scary bulldozer comedian is an actual human, with a family, and that is genuinely absolutely adorable.

- Good scoring, I’d have been genuinely annoyed if Franko had gotten fewer than five points for that. That was excellently done.

- I often write less about the live tasks than other tasks in these long posts, because by the end this has taken up so much time and I just want to watch the episode without pausing to write stuff down all the time. But obviously I need to screenshot this:

Also, I love this task. That’s one of my favourite forms for Taskmaster to take, just going to an absurd degree of specificity. Not to be too dramatic about the words “Know the most facts about sausages”, but I feel like that’s both the heart of what sets this show apart and the essence of Alex Horne’s sense of humour, taking something like that and pretending it’s serious, and playing it so straight with desks and a sausage exam.

One of the fun things about British slang that I did not know until I read David Mitchell’s autobiography a few years ago is that “swot” means “nerd”. Ivo, you fucking nerd, but in this case, I mean that in a very good way. That’s two out of three live tasks in which Ivo has done something awesome. Calculating and desperate, and it paid off. I approve of that level of play.

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thecleverqueer · 1 year ago

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imma bombard you with questions for scientific research (don’t feel pressured to answer though)

what are your thoughts on ahsoka so far? how would you rate the show out of 10? what’s your favorite episode so far? what’s your least favorite? who’s your favorite character? what is your favorite scene? what are your thoughts on episode 6?

please tag me if you answer so i get the notification! <3

bonus: what’s your favorite star wars movie and character?

Hi @byler-is-endgame7 !

I’ll gladly answer your questions for scientific research.

First, what do I think of Ahsoka so far?

So far, I’ve been quite pleased with the story… it feels like a spiritual continuation of Rebels which I though was a lovely series. Once more, it primarily focuses on three of my favorite characters in all of Star Wars media (Ahsoka, Hera and Sabine)�� with that being said, I may be bias.

I have really enjoyed the lightsaber battles. I have enjoyed the world building aspect of the show. I think, visually, they’ve done a great job. I like the fact that they brought back Huyang. He was an underutilized character in The Clone Wars, and it’s cool to see him in live action. A lot of folks have complained endlessly about the actors, but I think they’ve done a great job translating the characters into live action. If I had one complaint, it would be that the dialogue has come off as sort of clunky and awkward at times. It’s not terrible. It’s something that I can look over mostly.

How would I rate the show?

Eh. I kind of hate to do that. My friends often ask me to do this, and my answer has always been, “so far, I’ve really enjoyed it, but I’m going to hold off my final judgement because Filoni still has plenty of time to blow the whole story for me.” So, I’m going to hold off on rating it overall.

Favorite and least favorite episodes?

Tell you what, I’ll rank the episodes out of 10 for you:

Episode 1: 9.0.

Episode 2: 9.0.

Episode 3: 8.0.

Episode 4: 10.

Episode 5: 10.

Episode 6: 8.5.

With that being said, four or five are probably my favorites thus far (I would probably lean towards five). The action sequences were fantastic, and I love that Ahsoka has turned a corner emotionally. Three was probably my least favorite. It wasn’t bad. The space battle was awesome.

My favorite character?

Ahsoka. Absolutely Ahsoka. I’m a self-proclaimed simp.

Favorite scene?

I honestly liked the entire sequence post-pulling Ahsoka out of the water in episode five. If I could chose only one scene though, it would be the moment Ahsoka hugs Jacen, and has the conversation with Hera about where she thinks Sabine has gone. Ahsoka’s really soft with both of them, and I think it’s sweet. I also like that Ahsoka is wearing those ragged jammies with that white shawl.

Thoughts on Episode 6?

It was okay, but not my favorite. I didn’t like that there wasn’t much Ahsoka in it. I do get why. I did think it was cute that Ahsoka had Huyang tell her a children’s story to try and get her mind off of everything. I’m honestly also sort of mad at Sabine. I wanted them to find Ezra too, but not like this. Once worse, I’m anxious because I’m starting to think that the heroes may end up getting stranded out there because how TF are they going to get home without the whales and without the hyperspace coordinates to jump back? I did like the fact that we got a little more character development surrounding Shin and Baylan. I think that they’re fascinating characters, and I want to know more. I liked the Noti. And, ultimately, I was happy to see Ezra again. It’s been a while.

Bonus:

Favorite Star Wars move?

Definitely the Empire Strikes Back. That’s actually my comfort film (despite it ending badly for the good guys which I don’t typically like).

Favorite Star Wars character?

My most favorite is Ahsoka Tano, but Obi-Wan Kenobi is a very, VERY close second.

#star wars #ahsoka tano #ahsoka series #ahsoka spoilers

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lampmanliveblogs · 2 years ago

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This episode has soothed my worries and cleared the headache I felt approaching.

Don’t think I didn’t notice that leitmotif in the background music. That’s Raine’s Rhapsody/Eda’s Requiem.

You and me both Raine, that one actually spooked me for a second. How’s that for ”same boring faces,” eh?

Someone brought up in Follies at the Coven Day Parade that Raine whistles when they blow on their tea. And I joked it was because they were casting a cooling spell using their voice as an instrument.

Turns out I was kinda right, because Raine can somehow change the chemistry of the drink with sound waves. Which is frankly kinda amazing. Stage fright or not, Raine is good. Makes sense they’ve been brought to represent their school three times.

(speaking of which, what school uniform is that… Saint Epiderm?)

And they’re even good at (catching) grudgby (balls)! Is there anything Raine can’t do? So far, they’re doing a great job of matching the description Eda gave at the beginning and that was a pretty lofty description.

I’m pausing here specifically mainly to point out that the kid in the background there kinda looks like Willow’s other dad. If he showed up before, I didn’t notice, but there he is.

We also learn that Saint Epiderm (i was right about the uniform btw) is apparently a bit more exclusive, available only for a steep price. It’s not said outright, but the implication is that Raine’s parents might not be able to afford the tuition without the scholarships Raine earns by performing well at this event.

Based on that one picture in Eda’s photo album back in Wing It Like Witches, we know Raine ends up attending Hexside. So what happened? Or rather, what is about to happen to make that happen?

(oh, and Eda says she made a deal with the devil, a.k.a Principal Faust. Remind me again what the play Faust was about?)

Oh wow I am so surprised Terra turned out to be the instigator of conflict in this episode who could have seen it coming?

I’m gonna go ahead and guess that the Coven Witches team ends up winning, earning Eda a blue ribbon which is why she doesn’t get expelled. And because Raine’s team loses, they don’t get a ribbon and can’t afford to stay at Saint Epiderm, and thus transfers to Hexside. Which works out, because Eda & Raine are now friends.

And with that prediction and this lovely image to keep you awake in the night, I think I’m gonna have to cut it of for today. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to continue. Probably not tomorrow, but maybe on Sunday? We’ll see. Laters!

#the owl house #liveblog #the owl house liveblog #toh s2e15 #them's the breaks kid

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mcrcki · 2 years ago

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Was that [ALBA BAPTISTA]? Oh no no, that was just [ELLIE WILLIAMS], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [THE LAST OF US]. They are [EIGHTEEN] years old, use [THEY/SHE], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

** the last of us hbo series spoilers **

how long has your character been here -

around two months? they’ve gotten settled out of the government housing, thank god for that cause that place reminded them too much of fedra school. they’ve moved in with their new roomie, sarah. still haven’t asked their last name, but ellie’s okay with that. they’re still getting settled and don’t really talk about their life much either.

what is your character’s job -

gremlin child idk ??? honestly , i think they’d end up going back to school, figure it out from here. i really don’t think she’s well adjusted enough to hold down like any steady job right now.

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom -

end of season one of the hbo series. this is where i show my fake fan vibes and say i have never played the games gkfdjg but im waiting for the release on steam, but for now, i will be playing ellie as fully from the hbo show.. that also means that i do not know tlou2 so pls no spoilers until i play it kgdfjlg

has any magic affected your character -

nope! their memories are fully intact!! though, they’re kinda wishing they got some of those fake memories cause that would make adjusting to a non apocalyptic world way easier

other notes -

i present a completely different vibe that you have never seen from me ever before! apocalyptic brat with a disgruntled found family father figure. how original, i know!!! anyways, here’s ellie williams, my favorite little demon child

insert the ‘i’ve had arlo for a day and a half’ meme cause that’s how i feel about ellie. even though i only know them from tlou show, i would die for them. how do you meet them and not want to commits multiple murders across state lines???? the ppl want to know joel.

gonna give a cliffnotes , look out of for spoilers im so sorry kldjfg

either way, ellie is a child born after the fall of the world as we knew it, she is raised within fedra’s QZ’s, and when she was a teenager, she went on a date with her best friend/**girlfriend** thank u , and then they were attacked. one of the infected came after them and bit both ellie and riley.

fast forward, ellie does not!! turn!!!!! how !!!!!! inquiring minds would love to know

but bestie is immune to the fungus, and is then brought into firefly custody, to be shipped to a lab across the country that they’ll be able to use her to help form a cure. enter joel

joel gets fucking thrown into being the delivery person for ellie, and highjinks ensue. aka, you have one hell of an emotional development of found family !!! it’s beautiful, it’s great, ellie and joel would both fucking die or kill for each other and they have on multiple occasions.

a lot of it comes down to the fact that joel with kill to get back to ellie, and ellie will kill to protect herself to find him again.

i could really sit here and give so many details about the two of them, about how ellie goes from being just cargo to being baby girl, but i really do not want to give it away. it’s just 9 episodes i will give you my hbo login pls go watch it

basically, this is my pun loving, sarcastic, every other word is a swear, heart of gold, but will absolutely choose her own, and joel’s survival above anyone else, child.

i am going to be taking my time getting their voice right, because i really do love this character, i want to do them justice when i am coming in on just a little bit of the media, so bare with me lkgdfjkg im also keeping out some more serious details about what happens to them for tw purposes.

also they have their shitty pun book here because i say so and im sad it seems like they lost it in their pack at the end of the season

connections :

✩ friends

pls they need friends, they are kinda rough around the edges and will pick a fight so easily but they really do just need a good group of friends to break past that

✩other apocalyptic besties

if anyone else has been through some kind of apocalypse and wants to trade stories, they got you

✩ coworkers

i’m considering them maybe working in an arcade, or music shop so if that’s something you can see your characters working at hmu

✩ potential ship

my love is a lesbian so just a heads up, but this would be based off of chemistry, mainly cause idk if i wanna go with canon ships gkldfjg i definitely would be willing to explore but that would be a super slowburn situation and i will probably be holding off on plotting it for a while.

#hw: intro #e. interactions #e. muse #e. memes #e. visage #e. event #e. texts #e. intro #spoilers tw #zombies tw

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youthfill · 23 hours ago

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rules.

ACTIVITY : roleplaying is a hobby and i have a regular 7-4 job throughout the week, so please do not expect me to be here 24/7. my activity is almost always spotty so i very much operate on an “i’ll be and write here when i can” mindset when it comes to roleplaying. this blog may not always be the only blog i run, so i try to split what free time i have between here and my other muses.

MUTUALS ONLY : pretty self - explanatory. if we are not following each other, then we will not be writing with each other either. sometimes it takes me a while to check on new followers, so give me at least 3 days to follow you back.

if we were mutuals once upon a time and aren’t any more, please try not to take it to heart. a lot of things have changed over here along with myself and i’m just trying to enjoy writing here better.

FOLLOWING / UNFOLLOWING : if you’re taking the time to go through a rules page then you already know the usual things any decent person would put in here — no misogynists, no queerphobes, no terfs/transphobes, no racists, no radfems. and as plainly stated in my pinned, no goddamn zionists. in general, just don’t be a horrible person and we’ll be fine.

DUPLICATES : if you write or plan to write hebe too, that’s great ! but please do not expect me to follow back, and i ask that you don’t follow and / or stalk this blog either. this applies to all interpretations of hebe. i will not hesitate to block you when i find out, and the same goes for stealing from me. multi-muses that have her are up for debate.

i also will not write with duplicates of muses i write on my other single / solo blogs. please check my pinned post to see which muses this applies to.

PORTRAYAL : my portrayal of hebe takes inspiration from greek mythology, but she is based within the (technically modern) kaos universe. considering the show was unfortunately cancelled however, the world-building for it is partially mine too. i will definitely be mentioning and alluding to several events from the myths because i do consider these as part of her life as well, there will just be tweaks here and there to make them fit outside of the myth setting.

WRITING : i am slow at replying im- and thread - wise for various reasons, but just because i take long doesn’t mean i don’t want to write with you! life just gets in the way and i think we can all understand that. i do tend to drop threads and delete memes from my inbox if i feel like they’ve been there for too long, but i’m always up for starting new things.

SHIPPING : i will acknowledge herakles/hercules as hebe's husband (as i acknowledge their sons as well), but if you write him, you're not obligated to ship with me romantically if you don't want to. i do ships mainly based on chemistry and plotting, and i don’t just mean romantic shipping; i want all kinds of shipping ranging from love to hate and everything in between. hebe is bisexual.

MAINS / EXCLUSIVES : i may have my mains but i don’t do exclusives. i could do verse exclusives and maybe even ship exclusives if we talked about it, but i don’t generally do the “i only follow and write with x person’s version of this muse,” so please don’t ask me. the maximum amount of muse duplicates i’ll have listed as a main is three.

NSFW : i am of age and while i don’t really write smut, i'm sort of open to it. most likely not as threads and just as memes sent in to me or memes i’ll be sending in to others. that being said, however, none of that is happening in threads where she’s a teenager. other possibly triggering topics will be tagged accordingly as ‘trigger tw’ (i.e. eating disorder tw).

MISCELLANEOUS : basically other important points that i can’t file under a specific category lol

do not follow me if you use any known abusers as a faceclaim (i.e. johnny depp, jonathan majors, shia labeouf, brad pitt - yes i do believe they hit the women who’ve brought cases against them and that they’re just shitty people in general, domestic abuse “aside.” please actually take the time to look into those cases beyond viral tiktoks and misogynistic fanbases) and/or any actors known to hold side-eye worthy views as a faceclaim. no exceptions.

i don’t usually interact with ‘like to stay mutuals’ posts - unless i break the mutual myself, i am very much interested in remaining mutuals with you.

if i block or softblock you, it is what it is. just accept it and move on.

i am not affiliated with cailee spaeny or the kaos writers in any way or form.

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punishedsurge · 1 year ago

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SBFC 002: The Feel of a Podcast

Pat: Are you eating nuts?? Are you GOING NUTSSS?!

They discuss how podcast names should be naturally made during the episode’s runtime. Matt bangs out the title of this episode in under 90 seconds.

Dork Girl cameos in the background this episode. [She’s Woolie’s now-wife, right? Man, they did record at his place for a long time.]

Liam played Muchi Muchi Pork!, a bullet hell game. They force Liam to talk about it after trying to skim past it. Pat asks if the girls are over 18, Liam is confident at least 2 are. [I imagine most of them aren’t.]

Woolie calls AoT Shingeki no Koijin, Pat hates it. Dork Girl says just call it SNK, with leads into a conversation about abbreviations having overlap. FF is Final Fantasy, Fatal Fury, and Final Fight.

Pat proposes GoW, which is God of War and Gears of War.

Liam: Gears of War is ‘Gears’ to me.

Matt: And I always call God of War ‘Disappointing.’ But so is Gears Judgment.

[all go awwww]

Pat: It’s true though.

Liam: This is the first con I’ve been to in seven years where someone didn’t say ‘The Game’ as a phrase. [Got your ass 10 years later lmao, good job Liam]

Matt goes to the zoo to see red pandas with his lady friend, who I’m sure is Crymetina. [She doesn’t listen to the podcast because Liam talks about anime; she’s a keeper.]

The older trio talk about Disney cartoons, which eventually leads to only Matt and Woolie talking about NES Disney games.

Pat: Man, I really didn’t have a childhood.

Pat watched The Wire in the week between episodes. Woolie states that Spike Lee, Alan Moore, and Obama [not Malik the other one] love the show; Pat calls them crazy Warlocks, Matt brings it together by saying they’re a cabal of warlocks that live in a cave, which Woolie finishes by saying they encircle The Wire dvd box set. They also say The Wire has ruined every other cop show. [I haven’t seen it but it’s probably true.]

Woolie played Journey with his gf; Pat played with “SmokesBluntz420”. He also caught up with AoT, he said he stopped watching anime after Gurren Lagann and AoT brought him back in. He loathes shitty fan translations, proceeds to shit on the correct translations without knowing. [What a shit time for anime, trying to pirate it was so not worth it.]

Matt: I haven’t watched [AoT] because I’m busy working.

Divekick talk. It came out 10 years ago today! Zubaz got updated to have Fighterpedia on his shirt. [They spent a lot of cash putting Zubaz in indie games, jeez.]

Matt: I want a Booty Call game made by Telltale.

[I forgot that a thing for a while, ‘have Telltale make your choice-based narrative game’. Well, everyone sure did. Turned out great I heard, even!]

Woolie: Ubisoft, who continue to actually slowly gain my respect agin…

[It’s always funny to see praise of a big game corporation from the past.]

Woolie’s point is that Ubisoft announced Child of Light, it is lead by the Far Cry 3 creative director. Essentially, he thinks it’s cool he went from doing AAA games to something a lot smaller. They are excited it’s running on the UbiArt Engine, at the time it was only used for the Rayman IP. He claims the dev team is also 1/3 women. [I wonder how many of them still work there since the shitty work culture was alive and well then.]

Pat describes the potential work culture of the company as “grind on a AAA game and make it sell well, then you can make whatever else for 2-3 years until we need you to make money." [It’s not an impossible idea, Obsidian made Pentiment in between their far bigger releases, for example. Again, it’s funny to think about Ubisoft workplace culture after knowing all the foul shit they’ve done.]

Barkley 2 talk. Truly a flash in the pan the first game was. They’re excited for it, Liam pledged a high enough tier on Kickstarter to get a CyberDwarf body pillow. [I wonder if he still has it.]

Games for Windows Live is officially closing. Woolie pairs it with EA Origin as ‘things that aren’t Steam that refuse to die.’ [Microsoft just rebranded the service with Xbox decals, it has cross-buy on select titles with the consoles; it also touts PC Game Pass more heavily than their actual store front. Origin just copied Game Pass’ model and is now bundled with GP.]

Killer is Dead launches to ‘tepid’ sales in Japan. It sold 20k on both consoles, Bionic Commando sold 24k. Matt argues that because the former’s sales are in Japan while the latter’s is in America, Bionic Commando still sucks more. They wonder why it sold the way it did, is it because people are tiring of Suda51? Lollipop Chainsaw is apparently the best selling Grasshopper game, Liam says. [Good job, James Gunn.]

Woolie says Poolside Identity is great, and that K. Dot’s Swimming Pools. [I prefer remixes over original songs too when they fuse niche things I like together, but jfc that’s a take alright.]

Gamescom predictions. Pat says they won’t announce an Xbox One Kinect-less skew. [He was right.] He also believes the earlier release of PS4 at a cheaper price will be a deciding factor. [Way too right.] Liam and Pat go back and forth over the decision of Xbox to go so hard with promoting Kinect, Liam is ‘I can see their business strategy for it’, Pat is ‘that shit is dumb’. Then there’s reference to the NSA news of the camera potentially spying on you, which they don’t go into because Matt and Woolie interrupt with talk of showing their cocks on Uno.

Sony at Gamescon predictions. “It’s going to be a big show for Vita, but it is a PS4 focused show,” so says John Sony. Pat wantsa Vita game, pushes back on “Vita is dead” claim by fans by saying 3 games for Vita would be a big show for the handheld. Woolie mentions that every game at the show for PS home consoles will be required to have remote play for the Vita.

Slightly off topic of Gamescom, they speculate on the rumor of a new Vita; they believe it’s so Sony can compete with a new Samsung phone called the Galaxy Mega, which has a 6.3in screen and a 720p resolution. Liam thinks the rumor is all crap. Liam finishes with reminding us that the Vita priced dropped in Japan to $210 USD, Pat comments that it needs a price drop and 2 more ‘killer apps.’ [Probably means for it to be successful in the West/North America].

[It’s funny to hear all the hopium for the Vita’s success, but not because it failed to perform and stay relevant. When you compare it to Sony’s new handheld (Project Q), it’s such a superior product and all it does better is just play games on its hardware without an internet connection. As someone who streams GamePass titles on my phone at work, it functions far better than remote playing from my Xbox; it’s still inferior to native hardware by a wide margin. The fact Project Q can *only* do remote play via wi-fi (as far as we know) is such a blow to this wretched device. Maybe Vita deserved better…]

FGC News:

Persona 4 Arena is getting an update, only is an arcade location test at the moment. They talk about new HUD stuff and character.

Woolie: You know what matters more to fighting games than story mode? Gameplay—

Matt: I don’t know about that. [Gottem, Matt]

Matt facetiously laments how Arcsys can make so many fighting games in so little time and Capcom can’t pull one together at all. They talk about game development; it’s not lost on anyone paying attention. Pat believes Arcsys is stealing Capcom’s crown when it comes to fighting game relevance. Matt is hyped for the newly announced Killer Instinct. Thunder looks awesome visually, Pat groans at the other’s excitement.

D4 talk. They say, “Twin Peaks”, the end.

Anime news. Space Dandy announced YEEEEEAH! They love the creator’s work but have some trepidation about the sexual nature of the show, Pat believes it’s tongue in cheek. [It is]. Liam also mentions the team’s interest in localizing the series and believes more anime should do it as well. [I want to say Space Dandy was one of the first ‘Simulcast’ anime, but idk for sure.]

Letter time, letter time.

“Why’s it called TheSw1tcher?”

Matt tells the story of how he beat his friend to school after he missed a train.

Pat: Oh god— I based my entire economic fortunes on this dumb joke??

“What game had the best soundtrack?”

Woolie: Katamari Damacy

Liam: Streets of Rage

Matt: Mario Galaxy 1

Pat: Anything by Simon Viklund

“Will Woolie ever cut his hair?”

Woolie: Never.

Matt: Unless Comicbookgirl19 tells you to.

“What does Liam think of Rwby?”

Liam didn’t watch it, they talk about Monty Oum’s former body of work. Mentions Xiao Xiao and Egoraptor. Dork Girl watched it, doesn’t have much of an opinion about it though.

“When will you nerds talk about Jojo All-star Battle?”

Pat bought it, importing will take it a while.

What’s coming up: Rustlemania, 2 new playthroughs. Maybe Matt’s Bomb-ass Zoo Adventure.

0 notes

casliveblog · 1 year ago

Text

Custom Toonami Block Week 135 Rundown

Spy X Family: The time of the big interview has finally come and the Forger family descends on it with military precision despite this school being the most uppity fucking place in the world. These guys are failing people based on the way they fucking walk up to the place and are trapping people into messing up their clothes by staging a trapped messy kid and they also have an escaped wild animal stampede but Yor can TKO a cow like nobody’s business so it’s fine. They also play the gag that they’re stupidly prepared and brought TWO sets of changes of clothes which is freaking hilarious but also like they just kinda appear right where they were in the new clothes like no time has passed so did they just get changed right there or what. Like the implication is they went off to change but they’re like ‘oh you guys can go get cleaned up’ and Loid’s just like ‘That won’t be necessary’ and they just fucking appear in new clothes. It’s really fucking funny honestly. Still the actual interview happens and they’ve got a dude that’s just trying to do his job, an angry bitter asshole, and the dude that’s been screaming about elegance the whole time and is basically already on their side. The questions are pretty typical and Anya gets through it by reading Loid’s mind and Loid basically tells the truth but makes it sound like they’ve been a family for a lot longer than they have. Also they do bring up the fact that the school is looking into the possibility of fake families but I guess they’re just really shit at it and nobody talked to Yor’s friends that definitely know she wasn’t married last week but okay. But yeah Asshole Mcdouchebag asks Anya who she loves most between Yor and her old mom and that activates Anya’s tragic backstory alarm and everyone is ready to beat the shit out of him but luckily restrain themselves just enough though Loid still breaks the table (just a note on that I’m pretty sure Loid doesn’t have Yor’s super strength and was just THAT pissed off so he’s just like a sneaky dude that hulked out for a moment). But luckily elegance guy takes to heart all the great things Loid was saying about the school and decks the asshole after they leave, it’s kinda nice they gave this fancypants guy a character arc about really believing in the values the school puts a show of upholding. Still the Forgers don’t know they’ve already passed so they get to sweat it out for another episode while Loid’s just having a BSOD like ‘uhhh maybe they like people that break their tables?’.

Inuyasha: This episode is kinda weird in that it’s the intersection of two types of filler gimmick episodes and a stock gimmick comedy plot. So we meet back up with the old filler lady monk who doesn’t have any power and Inuyasha and Shippo are fighting so it’s also a Shippo episode. The monk lady enlists their help protecting a bunch of village houses that have been broken into lately and comes up with a sutra that lets Shippo use his fox magic to turn invisible because we wanted to give Shippo a new power but have to make it conditional so he can’t use it outside of filler. So we have some shenanigans of him and Sango being invisible but it only lasts a few minutes so the gag is when Sango stalks Miroku he can see her almost right away and when Shippo goes to peek on Kagome’s tits or prank Inuyasha they just brush him off/beat him up like that episode of Rugrats with the vanishing cream. Shippo just thinks Inuyasha sniffed him out but Sango figures out the spell didn’t last long and… doesn’t tell Shippo because she doesn’t want to hurt his feelings I guess? But when Shippo’s guarding the house alone and is very visible to the demon Sango realizes this was a terrible idea and he’s prolly gonna die. The demon himself is pretty cool and appears as a paper thin man that can become fat when he sucks in air so he Paper Mario’s his way into the house to steal shiny stuff but Shippo’s able to kinda just steal it back and run away before Inuyasha can sniff them out and beat the guy up. Feel like they wanted to do more with Inuyasha and Shippo’s relationship in this episode since Kagome equates them to bickering brothers but aside from briefly acknowledging each other when fighting the demon nothing really comes of it. It’s another gag episode that’s not quite as funny as the last one but it’s alright I guess.

Yu Yu Hakusho: So the Goblin King game continues and the first bit is Gamer Girl Genkai absolutely wrecking shop at a helicopter game which I guess makes sense because it’s probably hard to make that look exciting. Gamemaster’s like ‘well cool we got her win out of the way so I don’t have to fight her’ which is probably fair like most of Genkai’s one on one fights are hilariously onesided unless you’re Toguro. Yusuke gets the easiest beat-em-up in the world and still almost loses but he manages to pull out a win so they only need to beat the Gamemaster himself once to claim victory. I vividly remember watching this as a kid because the way they make a quiz game such a display of shonen asshole one-upmanship is kind of spectacular. Kaito knows all the game’s questions and can pick them up based on the first syllable and their given answers but Gamemaster lets him do the first five questions so he can get the sequence of the code and by then he knows the complete order of the game’s RNG sequencing to know the questions before any part of the question actually pops up. That’s like some Death Note level of “I’m even geniusier than you’ shit. Kaito gets sick of losing so just guesses on a bunch of the questions and gets his three strikes before Gamemaster can get his tenth question, better to lose than be beaten I guess. Still Kurama figures out that with the game’s arcade Continue nature, they aren’t playing an elimination game but just a stalling game so they won’t die if they lose they’ll just keep playing the final boss over and over which theoretically would be great because they get infinite chances but also means Gamemaster’s confident enough that he’ll be able to keep whipping their butts for hours until the tunnel’s completed. The preview of this episode also has Kurama poetically wondering if he can morally kill a child in a way that really infatuated my edgy teenage soul back in the way with him talking about doing something he regrets like ‘I pray that I won’t but I know that I will’ like fantastic edgy teen anime OC gold man, fantastic job.

Jujutsu Kaisen: It’s time for the group’s first real mission and Gojo is out of town so there’s no saving them, this is basically the ‘Naruto and Sasuke vs Zabuza’ moment. Speaking of which our resident Sasuke Megumi is in the spotlight this time around since Nobara has like kind of an idea how things work and Yuji was legit thrown into this with zero training so yeah they go into the spirit’s Witch Labyrinth from Madoka and within like two minutes the kid they came in there to save is dead, Nobara’s captured by a bunch of mask trolls and Megumi’s white wolf is dead and there’s a naked flexing guy that cuts Yuji’s hand off. They also have a brief moral quandary that the place they’re in is a juvie center so all the kids there are kinda dicks so Megumi doesn’t want to go out of his way to save any of them but Yuji met the kid’s mom so he wants to help anyway and it’s a neat little conflict. But yeah Yuji wants to call out his Hollow side but Sukuna’s like ‘yeah bro I’ll kill your evil spirit for ya, and your friend and maybe you I don’t care like we got like 10% of my power max riding on this’ so Yuji wisely decides against that and sends Megumi to go save Nobara and get the fuck out of dodge so he can hulk out without anyone in the area. He fights the naked spirit thing for a bit and gets more appendages ripped off and does briefly figure out how to use a minor amount of Cursed Energy but it’s like some dude rocking up to Mike Tyson with exactly one move they got from a youtube tutorial. Still Megumi saves Nobara via frog and Yuji’s able to let Sukuna out and honestly this guy is a boss like he’s so entertaining to watch. He’s smart about it and wants to lead the spirit out so they can team up on Megumi to piss off Yuji but the spirit is piss scared of Sukuna and not all that smart and doesn’t wanna leave his stoop so Sukuna’s just like ‘fine guess I’ll do the thing’ and fucking wrecks this dude’s shit five ways to Sunday before using Tsukuyomi or some shit to bisect him fivefold and take his finger back. By then Sukuna’s like ‘yeah yeah I did your stupid shonen evil side bullshit lemme switch back now’ but to his surprise Yuji doesn’t come back out, presumably because he can’t switch back right away at this point.

Chainsaw Man: Just when we think it’s all over and Denji’s saved Power and Meowy, his fucking arm gets ripped off before he can grope her like some 18+ version of that Twilight Zone episode where the dude breaks his glasses. Turns out the Leech Devil was boning the Bat Devil and is the Miss Piggy to his Kermit and wants to kill whoever killed him as I assume Miss Piggy would in the 18+ version of The Muppets. Still she’s apparently very vain and willing to let Denji off for being bishie enough but he has boobs to protect so he stays and fights. Still after all that he can only get his chainsaw like half a foot out of his head and has to swing his head around like Zabuza killing people with just the kunai in his mouth. It’s really funny how he’s just like ‘yeah if my dream’s so stupid then kill me and prove it’ and that’s a really badass thing to say when everyone around him has a better reason to do the things they’re doing but he actually loses so the series itself is like ‘yeah second base is a stupid dream bro’ but yeah this series really is paralleling Jujutsu Kaisen because we ALSO have our Sasuke surrogate with wolf powers coming into the spotlight this week. Aki summons his wolf devil thing using some skin and bites the Leech Devil in half. So yeah, problem solved but Power and Denji are still in trouble for running off the second they got ten feet of freedom so Aki’s just like ‘bro get some manners and two braincells to rub together or I’m gonna kill you’ and Denji’s just like ‘suggestion noted’. And they let Power go since Denji doesn’t tell anyone about her trying to kill him and I guess they don’t have enough evidence to go on or something. We get a nice little look into Aki’s life how he’s so particular and has even chilled out a little with Denji as a roommate and they’re at least not fighting constantly, though of course things need to get even CRAZIER so Power joins the apartment for a traditional Asuka-style NGE shakeup of the living arrangements. And turns out Power’s just like the worst roommate imaginable like it’s like trying to room with Tom Hanks after castaway and you have to re-train him how to use toilet paper and get him to stop talking to your volleyballs and bathe more than once a month but luckily for Denji he has absolutely no problem switching from digusted to horny when Power offers to give him his due gropes (god I kinda envy that like if someone so much as farts in front of me I’m not thinking of that person sexually for a little while).

Ranking of Kings: So turns out the titular Ranking of Kings isn’t just a metaphor but is like an actual literal thing like a committee comes out to judge everyone and the top one gets a divine relic that makes the king disappear or drives them crazy… why does anyone want that? Like yeah ‘magical god item’ sounds cool but if literally everyone who’s gotten one got fucked up why would you go so hard to get it? Like shoot for number 2, you still get a good kingdom and your king doesn’t go crazy/missing and wreck everything. Turns out Daida is still on the kill Bojji train to make sure there’s not a rebellion from his supporters (like I get the idea but wouldn’t people still revolt if you made him a martyr? Idk feels like a no-win situation and keeping him alive to accept his position might be better). But yeah Daida isn’t as good at fighting the giant magic golem from the committee as his dad was so they bump the kingdom down a few ranks. Meanwhile Bojji’s errand/quest is kinda not going well since after giving a street performer more than they make in a year he gets his bag with the letter from his mom in it stolen. Luckily it just kinda… shows up again outside the town with nothing taken and no explanation, hope that gets explained later. Also there’s a scene where Bojji falls down a hole and is briefly adopted by an underground king man who teaches him about the giant cloud anus in the sky that reincarnates animals every night for people to eat and he’s just like ‘wanna see it firsthand?’ and pulls a sword on Bojji before Bojji runs away and never mentions it again, like this episode is just like three or four big lipped alligator moments strung together which I imagine flowed a lot better when this was a chapter-based story. Meanwhile Domas and other dude are reflecting on orders and Domas is just like ‘yeah rich people got it rough so I’ll do what they say no matter what’ and other dude is thinking about when he was crying over his dead parents and met Bojji who was also crying over HIS dead parents so they kinda bonded over that. Meanwhile they find a village with a literal gate to hell and Domas just fucking pushes Bojji into it while flashing back to training him as a kid and he’s like ‘bitch I said I’d do anything’ so… Bojji’s dead now I guess, short series damn. Also Daida’s having dreams about how Bojji’s the only hope for their kingdom so his first thought is to dig up his father’s corpse to suck on his zombie muscle juice and get strong I guess idfk.

Vinland Saga: So Thors is legit wrecking Askeladd’s crew and even tosses Bjorn and his Mario Mushroom ass over to the second ship to join the fight over there. Thors is pretty sure he can probably take all the guys in the other boat too but it’d get messy with Thorfinn there and there’s still a bunch of archers ready to shoot them up top so really they only have the illusion of victory at this point unless Thors can scale a fjord before they can fire. So he challenges Askeladd to a duel so there’s not a bloodbath on both sides. Askeladd’s basically a Kenpachi Zaraki type and just wants to fight strong anime dudes and Thors is the only strong anime dude around so he’s like ‘sure bro’ and they fight and it’s pretty fucking cool cause Askeladd’s fast as hell (so like even if Thors could fight off the thirty dudes they had I don’t think he could fight them AND Askeladd plus the archers so there wasn’t much chance) and the duel is pretty grounded but still has some cool setpieces and strategies. But Thors of course comes out on top but isn’t willing to kill Askeladd and Askeladd’s like ‘bro we’re still pirates’ and they take Thorfinn hostage because Askeladd just wanted to fight tough guys but he wasn’t gonna let Thors get away all the same. Understanding the situation Thors spares Askeladd’s life knowing there’s no way for him to survive but if he goes quietly Askeladd will owe him and the shred of pride he has means he leaves the others alone. We also get the ‘A True Warrior Needs No Sword’ line because Thors wants to be the kind of person that can settle things without lethal force but he’s just too damn good with the sword. So yeah Askeladd quietly agrees to Thors’ terms and has the archers kill him and lets the others go, with Leif agreeing to bring Thors’ head to their king so they can be like ‘nah bro he’s not AWOL again he’s legit dead see’. They paint this as Thors being kinda cheated and losing because he was protecting everyone but like between the archers and everyone else they were at Askeladd’s mercy the whole time there was no way Thors was leaving even if they hadn’t taken Thorfinn hostage and cheated a bit. Since Thors was doing half the rowing on the ship by himself they just give the ship to Askeladd’s crew and leave on Leif’s ship but Thorfinn stows away on the old ship and has adopted his trademark dead soulless angry eyes at this point screaming into the storm about how he’s going to murder all the adult pirates who are now his only means of staying alive. Man this really is an Attack on Titan backstory arc. Askeladd says to just leave him as he’ll probably be dead soon anyway since it’s one kid on a ship by himself. I gotta wonder how did Leif’s crew not notice Thorfinn was missing? Like this is the SECOND time he’s done this in two days, the first time they assumed he was back in Iceland sulking somewhere so yeah that makes sense they didn’t necessarily check the ship for him but at this point there’s only like ten guys they have to keep track of and only so many places they can go on the ship how did no one in Leif’s group think to check for the sobbing kid whose dad just died?

#ooc #Toonami #Custom Toonami Block #Spy X Family #Inuyasha #Yu Yu Hakusho #Jujutsu Kaisen #Chainsaw Man #Ranking of Kings #Vinland Saga

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two-sides-samecoin · 2 years ago

Note

Like my issue isn't that they killed Eddie. It's that they killed him badly. Like the second Eddie cut the rope we knew he was going to die. It would have been more shocking if he had survived. There isn't any surprise from an outside standpoint because we know that they are going to kill a character and Eddie just made a decision that leads to his survival chances plummeting. Like a death the show did well was Bob Newby. Because they killed him at the last possible second. And they put plenty of jump scares (Not really, but not sure of the word and I'm tired and being lazy) that Bob survived. Like it is devastating because he was so close. And the show was never like we're killing characters for that season. Like doing that almost takes people out of the show because you're looking at it with, I know that they are going to kill characters, is this one going to die? Like it takes you out of the show in my opinion.

The acting carries the show. I'm purely criticizing everything from a writing and narrative perspective but the acting is phenomenal. If I wasn't a very picky why isn't this making sense person, then I would probably never really criticized aspects of the show. But yeah, the acting is amazing and I love it.

I think the show disbenefits from having so many storylines and at least one needed to be cut at least a little bit. Because there is so much they want to do and not enough time and so they had to sacrifice in Hawkins but Hawkins needed that extra time so it doesn't fall apart and ahhhhhhhhh.

Also the fic! The list of fics that have made me cry is so little (I don't cry easily while consuming media) that I save them, so it was very easy to find. The list is currently 3 works in length. Anyways, here it is! https://archiveofourown.org/works/42832416

YES SAME!!! they killed eddie so badly and also while the parallel was nice whenever they cut to eddie’s death in between max’s i wanted to scream cuz i just wanted to get back to the max moments to see how that would end. like i do appreciate this paralleling scene especially cuz gaten does an amazing job! but also i just wanted to get to max! ngl i feel like even before that moment we knew he was going to die cuz of the duffers track record but the moment he cut the rope we knew his death fate was sealed. i think bob’s death was done so amazingly! like i was devasted that he does but at the same time i felt the emotional death way more than any of the other deaths. with bob we got to know him for the whole season being with the byers family and spending time with them. we can see the growth he did and the happiness that he brought the byers while also establishing bob as his own character! which is sooo great and like you said we can feel how he could have gotten out so it’s even more devastating. idk i just think that because the audience actually got to know him they were more upset that he died because he was a good character instead of just being upset at the death/injustice of it all (for example the whole barb thing where most people didn’t know her character because she died in the second ep but they wanted justice because she died). with bob’s death it felt more emotional because we got to know him.

ohhh the acting is absolutely phenomenal! like god theyre soooo fucking good! i’m so glad that the actors/actresses seem to be getting more jobs and etc within the career because they are incredible and amazing! yes the writers have soooo many plot lines that it just ends up bringing the writing down which i think showed more this season than the rest as they are in different states or in different countries. like in hawkins the different plot lines were able to connect more as they’re in a small area so it as more places to cross over and for them to interact even if they are doing other things. but with the different states none of them can interact besides the people who are in the same area as them so none of the characters cross over! they’ve been able to do the many plot lines justice in some aspects (maybe they don’t finish those plot lines sometimes but it’s easier to have many plot lines) i think in the past the many plot lines did also bring them down but because they were close together - it made it easier with run time and etc

ohhhh yay! thanks for putting the fic! totally going to read it!

#answered asks #honeysblooms tag

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dhwty-writes · 3 years ago

Text

The Terribly Sad and Tragic Affair that Is the Fake Funeral of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss

Apparently, I am not only drawing for the Critical Role fandom, but writing for it, too. After months of nearly no progress I just vomited out 3k words this Tuesday and it only went downhill from there.

This fic is based on this post by @anne-o-nyme, I really hope I managed to capture the energy of it.

Have fun!

Summary: There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience.

After the sudden "death" of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, it is his brother Verin's job to empty out his towers. The Mighty Nein show up to help (and maybe steal a few things).

OR: Verin is grieving, Essek just wants his stuff back, and the Mighty Nein are the Mighty Nein.

Warnings: I didn't tag this with MCD, because Essek is technically alive and kicking. Since Verin doesn't know that though, and this fic is written from his POV, this is dealing with grief and includes depictions of depressive thoughts as well as anxiety attacks. For more explicit warnings, please mind the tags on AO3. Take care of yourselves, and let me know if I forgot anything.

Read on AO3

There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience. "Listen," he said with what little calm he had left, "I know that by returning one of our beacons you became heroes of the Dynasty and were placed under Es— My bro— his stewardship. But this here—" he gestured vaguely at the interior of Essek's towers that had always been too cold, too empty, but not like now, never like now— "This is a very difficult situation for me, so if you could please leave, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Yes, yes, it's very sad that Essek died," the blue tiefling said—Jester, her name was Jester; she had given him that already as she had offered him her condolences with a hug—and Verin could barely contain his anger. After the funeral he had quite enough of lying dignitaries, nobles, and heroes currying favours with him. That had always been Essek's thing, he would know what to do, how to make them regret even daring to speak up; Verin had never been any good at it.

"But we're his friends!" He grit his teeth at Jester's blatant falsehood. Perhaps his anger showed on his face, since the tiefling faltered. "And, uh— Fjord?"

"It's true," the half-orc with too-smooth words and too-smooth voice lied, too. "We spent quite some time with your, er— your brother here. Made some good memories. We thought we might take this as our chance to say goodbye, too."

"We are here to help as well. We wouldn't want to infringe upon your grief, though," the tall firbolg added. "So, if you'd prefer us to return at a later point, we'd be happy to."

Verin was still trying to process everything—from these strangers showing up unannounced to their overwhelming presence to the fact that his brother was dead—while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the halfling who looked like she might have sticky fingers. So, he latched onto the word that stood out the most to him: "Help?"

"Right," Fjord said, looking slightly embarrassed, "we probably should have led with that..."

"We should have called ahead, too," the scary-looking human in blue—they didn't even wear white for the funeral—added. "We always forget to call ahead."

"But Beau, how should we have called ahead?" Jester complained. "We didn't know Verin yet."

"Well, Essek—" the human was interrupted by the even scarier-looking woman next to her stepping on her foot unsubtly. She at least had the decency to act embarrassed. "Right. Sorry 'bout that."

Awkward silence fell across the room, the Mighty Nein looking anywhere but him. It took him a few moments to realise they were waiting for him to speak up. "Help how?" Verin could have kicked himself. By the Light, he could do better than that. He had to do better than that.

A beat of silence followed, then everyone seemed to talk at once. Verin wanted to weep. How was he supposed to deal with this? How had his brother dealt with this? 'He probably hasn't,' he thought. 'They're probably all liars, probably—'

Someone cleared their throat and all eyes turned to the other human who hadn't said anything so far and who looked properly miserable. Immediately, the Mighty Nein fell silent. "Word has reached us that Den Thelyss ordered these premises to be vacated as early as possible," he said quietly with an accent Verin has been taught that belonged to the enemy. "And while some of us may not look like much, I can assure you, we are quite capable."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I supposed such menial tasks are beneath the heroes of the dynasty. There are servants—"

"Well, sure," the halfling with the probably sticky fingers interrupted, "but we know him. Knew him, I mean; sorry, force of habit."

"Besides, there's a lot of stuff," the lavender tiefling, who Verin was pretty sure was a known pirate, piped up. "Looks like you could use the help."

"If you want to, of course," the sad Empire human added.

Verin only wanted to scream, to give room to the torrent of thoughts raging in his head. 'My brother just died. My brother just died and he wasn't consecuted, so he's gone for good. He's gone for good and I didn't even know him; I didn't even know about these supposed friends he had because he didn't allow me near him in decades. I was a horrible brother and so was he, but I can't even be mad at him because he's dead.

'And now these liars show up and talk about friendship and knowing him, but those are all lies, horrible ones, because Essek had no friends. Essek was cold and cruel and lonely and do you even know how horrible that is? Dying alone with no-one who mourns you, just the favours you still owe them? Do you? I don't even know, and I'm his brother.'

Were he a weaker man, a less disciplined one, he might have said so. But he was Taskhand Verin of Den Thelyss and he had learned discipline before he had learned to talk. So, he said: "Your help would be greatly appreciated, thank you. I'll have the servants bring up some tea. There are, uh—" He straightened his back, summoning the composure that was befitting a Taskhand, even one with a dead brother. "There are boxes up there, they've been brought to the rooms already. Anything of value will be sold; the rest will be given to charity. The things— Well, if you find anything that might have sentimental value, something in his handwriting, perhaps, I think I should like to keep that, please."

The firbolg nodded sagely. "Of course. We will be careful with our selection."

With that, Verin turned around and— froze. Where was he even supposed to start? The towers had always seemed to huge for just Essek and he knew that there were very few personal belongings in them. Still, they would have to be scoured clean within the fortnight.

A large hand on his shoulder made him jump, although he'd never admit it. "Sometimes, when a task seems too large, you should start with the smallest part," the firbolg said. "If I were you, I'd start with the smallest room."

"Thank you, that, uh— that seems like good advice," Verin replied, still a bit startled and confused. "I, er— I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Caduceus Clay. I live in a graveyard, so I'm used to this," Clay said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Verin furrowed his brows slightly. A graveyard? It seemed highly unlikely to him that one of the heroes of the Dynasty would live in a graveyard of all places. Perhaps they were not only liars, but impostors too? But they had the symbols of the Bright Queen, so there wasn't much that he could say.

"Right," he mumbled. "I believe the smallest room would be the closet. Although it might be tied with the bathroom..." He trailed off again. He had never seen Essek's bedroom in his towers. Judging by how many times he had even seen the inside of the building; he could count himself lucky if he even found the way there.

"Why don't we split up?" Clay suggested. "One group takes the closet, one the bathroom and one the bedroom. We'd get done sooner that way."

"That is a great idea, Caduceus," Jester said excitedly. "I'll take the bathroom; I promised— er, I'm curious if I can find more of that hair oil, I got for Fjord that one time!"

"Ohhh, are you saying this is... an investigation?!" the halfling joined in.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Veth!"

"Seems like a case for Wildemount's best detectives!"

"Bye, Verin!" Jester called and he blinked and they were gone. Fjord joined them as well, muttering something about having to supervise them.

The purple pirate-tiefling shrugged, heading off in the same direction. "Well, I wouldn't mind rifling through some drawers. I'll have a look at that bedroom."

"Yeah, I don't need to see Essek's underwear, so I'll pass on the closet," Beau added tactfully—Verin was getting the sneaking suspicion that manners were not really her strong suit. She linked hands with the large woman at her side, pulling her along. "Come on, Yash."

"I'll go handle the tea," Clay said. "Don't worry about it." He vanished in the direction of the kitchen, his steps accompanied by the constant tap tap tap of his staff.

When Verin looked around, he realised that only the sad Empire human was left with him in the hallway. "If you wouldn't mind," he said, pointedly avoiding eye-contact, "I would love to have a look at the closet. I always, ah— appreciated your brother's sense of fashion."

Verin blinked at him a few times, then shrugged. "Sure." He began heading up the stairs.

"My condolences," the human continued. "I realise I didn't speak up earlier, but— I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he said, letting the same numb feeling wash over him again that he had embraced since the news of Essek's death had reached him.

"I know that we seem like a bunch of, ah— forgive my language, but assholes, but we're really here to help. I will tell the others to tone it down a bit."

"Thank you," he repeated.

"If you'd prefer that we start in, ah— less personal rooms, we can do that also."

"If I'm perfectly honest, I don't even know what I should be doing there."

"Neither am I." The human laughed nervously. "I have dealt with grief before, but I've never had the, ah— how do you call it? Hang on." He pulled out a copper wire and whispered: "Beau, how do you say zweifelhafte Ehre in Common? You can reply to this message." A moment later he straightened. "Right. I never had the dubious honour of emptying out a deceased person's house before."

"Neither did I," Verin admitted. 'Usually, the deceased person comes back,' he didn't say. Instead, he opted for: "You're, er— What's the word in Common? You're weird? I'm sorry if that's insulting, I just— waele xanalressen [stupid languages]."

"I don't understand your words, but I think I understand the sentiment." The man grimaced. "And I've heard that one before. I hope we're not too much of a... too much."

"It's alright," he lied and opened the door to Essek's bedroom.

It wasn't alright; Verin wanted to weep again.

The door to the bathroom stood ajar, as did several drawers and cabinets, although he couldn't glance inside. Considering that he heard glass shatter and a quiet "oops" followed by a hushed "Jester!" he was rather glad about that. Besides, what he saw was already quite enough to handle. Beau was currently rifling through Essek's nightstand, the tall woman tossing unread books on the bed carelessly, while the lavender tiefling seemed to make his way through his brother's collections of make-up and jewellery alike.

They froze when they spotted him and the sad human in the door. "Heeey, Verin," Beau drawled.

"These were all still closed, I swear," the lavender tiefling said immediately, gesturing at the jars in front of them.

Verin just sighed in defeat. "I don't wear any make-up, I don't care; you can have it. Put the jewellery in the box to be sold; the books are for charity if he hasn't read them. Just leave the earrings in front of the mirror, please. Those were his favourites."

Without another glance at them, Verin headed straight to Essek's closet, desperate to get some quiet. He took a few moments to collect himself, before closing the door and leaning his head against it with a heavy thunk.

He stayed like that for a minute or maybe two until he heard someone clear their throat. "I have been debating for the past fifty-five seconds, if I should just Dimension Door out," the sad human said and Verin very nearly jumped out of his skin, "but that would be loud and I didn't want to startle you. Not that I didn't startle you like this but—"

"Vithin shu," Verin cursed.

"Vithin shu ke," the sad human agreed, his accent in Undercommon even heavier than normally.

For a moment, they both stared at each other, equally startled by the course of events. Then, the human looked away again. "I, ah— have started learning Undercommon before, um— well, before." Verin tried very hard to focus on the way the human was scratching at his forearms; that way he had something else to focus on besides his nearing breakdown.

"This is a bit embarrassing, but, ah— I believe I forgot to introduce myself," the human continued. "I'm Caleb Widogast. Essek and I were... friends, yes, and ah— colleagues, of some sort. It's... complicated."

He scratched at his arms again before turning towards the shelves and pulling out a stack of tunics. He unfolded one, looked at it, then carefully folded it again, cast a cantrip to smooth out the wrinkles, and put it in the charity box. Then he repeated the procedure with the next. And the next. And the next.

Verin frowned, thinking for a moment about his words. There was something about them that seemed painfully familiar, although he couldn't quite remember. Then: "The transmutation specialist."

Widogast looked up in surprise. "Yes."

"Essek told me of you," Verin admitted.

The last time they had seen each other had been here, in these towers, just a few months ago. He had found his brother in his office, pouring over notes for a new spell, alive and healthy as ever. As always, he had entered without knocking. As always, he had pretended to read the notes. Not as always, he had noticed something wrong. "Whose handwriting is that?" he had asked.

"What?" Essek had snapped, his head whipping up. Then, however, his expression had softened. "Oh. A friend's. A colleague, of sorts. He's helping me out, a bit."

"With the spell?" Verin had asked incredulously.

"Yes. He's a transmutation specialist; you know that's not my forte. Now give it back, will you?"

"A colleague, huh?" He had grinned and held the paper out of Essek's reach. "Are you sure that's all?"

Perhaps Essek had been sick after all, for the strangest thing had happened: instead of using his floating cantrip to snatch the notes back, he had gotten a dreamy, far-off look in his eyes. He had even smiled with an expression Verin might have called dopey, if it weren't his brother they were talking about. After a few moments, he had snapped out of it, sighed, and said: "It's complicated."

"Did he?" Widogast asked tentatively. "Did he, ah— did he say anything else about me?"

Verin pinned him down with a glare, sizing him up. In hindsight, he should have noticed the thick spellbook at his hip earlier; judging by his slim frame alone, he should have known the man was a wizard. He supposed Widogast was handsome enough, although his brother had never cared much for that, with his copper hair and his striking blue eyes. Blue eyes around which crows' feet were gathering, as he noticed to his dismay. 'He's human,' Verin reminded himself. He might have a few decades left, maybe, whereas Essek had centuries ahead of him. The thought why his brother might condemn himself to more loneliness crossed his mind, though it hardly mattered. His brother had been the first to die, after all.

"Verin?" Widogast inquired quietly.

"I'm sorry," he answered with a thick voice. "I got lost in my thoughts there. He, uhh— he said that he trusted you." That didn't even begin to cover it, but these Mighty Nein had been lying to him since the moment they got here, so what was a little lie by omission? Besides, there were some memories that he wanted to keep just to himself.

"Essek," he had teased, still waving the sheet of paper out his reach. "Come on! Aren't we brothers?"

Essek had crossed his arms and pouted. He hadn't done that since they were both little. "Unfortunately. You are a menace. And a child."

"If you tell me about him, I'll give it back. Is he handsome? Is he a drow? Where's he from? How did you meet? When will I meet him? Can I promise to kill him if he hurts you?"

"Verin!" Essek had groaned and hid his face in his hands.

"What do you do when you meet? I bet you stay up all night, talking about 'arcane research' or something."

"We do, in fact. Are you done now?"

"Oh, is that what young people call it these days?" He had cackled at his own joke.

"Evidently not," Essek had muttered. "Might I remind you that you're younger than me?"

"Might I remind you that you're a buzzkill?" Verin had shot back and placed the note down. He had gotten bored of his own game.

Essek had taken the sheet of paper almost reverently and thanked him. "I would have hated it to rewrite that page." He had smoothed it down, stored it safely away in a folder, silent for a long time. Then, he had said: "Caleb."

"Excuse me?"

"That's his name," Essek had said. "Caleb Widogast."

Verin had frowned. "Hey, Essek?"

"Hm?"

"You must trust him a lot, to share a spell with him."

His brother had taken a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Verin hadn't expected him to answer, yet he'd said: "I do, actually. It's not the first spell we've created together and I would be honoured to create a thousand more with him. I'd trust him with my life, my death, and beyond. I think—" He'd huffed. "I think I trust him almost as much as I trust you."

Verin watched Widogast as he was looking through his brother's tunics, placing most of them in the charity box, and he wondered. Wondered if the trust Essek had obviously put in Widogast had been misplaced. Wondered if it had extended to his friends, as well. Wondered if ultimately trust had been his downfall, as he'd always feared.

Then again, if Essek had trusted him... perhaps that trust had been mutual. Perhaps they had been friends. Perhaps there was another person mourning his brother after all.

"Do I have something on my face?" Verin had given up on counting how many times Widogast had now startled him out of his thoughts.

"No, no I—," Verin stammered. "I'm sorry."

He tilted his head to the side. "For staring?"

"No, er— For your loss." Liar or no liar, it only seemed appropriate.

"Oh." Widogast turned back to the tunics. Verin probably should get started, too, shouldn't he? "Thank you. Though I'd wager your loss weighs heavier than mine."

"Probably," he agreed and turned to the task at hand. At this point, Widogast had moved on from the simple tunics to Essek's court regalia. After a short moment of consideration, Verin decided to look through the pants; he also had no interest in sorting through his dead brother's underwear.

Out of the corner of his eye he kept watching the wizard, pulling out one cloak after the other. At a few he wrinkled his nose, at others he just stared before putting them with the tunics. After a while one made him pause; an elaborate, beautiful robe in deep purple. "This is what he was wearing when we first met him," he said.

'He hated that one,' Verin thought. Not that he could say that out loud. Instead, he cocked his head and asked: "Are you sure? He has a lot of those. Had, I mean. Had a lot of those."

"Yeah, I'm sure." He tapped his temple with a faint smile. "I have a good memory."

"As does Essek," he snapped, suddenly feeling very defensive about his brother's capabilities. "I suppose most wizards do."

Infuriatingly, Widogast only nodded. "Indeed. Or they're not very good ones."

Silently, Verin turned back to the trousers. The sooner he got done, the sooner he got these people out of his brother's towers, the better. He didn't know for how long they worked in silence, Verin reminiscing about the times he had seen Essek wear the clothes and wondering about those he didn't know. Eventually, he folded the last of them and forced himself to return to the present. "I think we're done here," he announced. "Do you have a preference for a next room?"

"Perhaps the library?" Widogast offered a tentative smile. "I think I might be of more use there than folding clothes."

"More use than I will be, surely."

"I take it the wizardry doesn't run in the family, then?"

Verin only scoffed and opened the door to the bedroom again.

He immediately spotted Beau leafing through one of the books Essek had never read, while the tiefling was chatting amiably with the aasimar while braiding her hair. He also noted the boxes neatly stacked in the middle of the room. Besides that, he noticed with a heavy heart, the room looked much the same. If anything, it looked less orderly and empty than before. Except for—

"Where are Essek's earrings?" Verin demanded to know.

"What earrings?" the lavender tiefling replied with a too-wide grin the same moment Beau said: "Dude, there's tons of them, why don't—"

"No," he said decisively. "Essek's favourite earrings; they're always up here. I told you about them. Where are they?" His hands curled into fists, his neatly manicured fingernails pressing almost painfully into his skin.

"Perhaps you should look in one of the boxes," the aasimar woman suggested "I'm sure they're—"

"You're lying," Verin interrupted her, barely containing his anger. "Why are you lying? If they're in one of the boxes, then only because you put them there. So: where are they?"

Widogast only now stepped out of the closet, wearing an amber necklace he hadn't noticed before. "Verin—" he said tentatively, but he'd had enough.

"Shut up!" He startled himself with how loud his voice was. But he was beyond caring. "I know they're not in there, because the only ones to put them in there would have been you. So, either you're lying about having them put in there, or you're lying about stealing them, I don't care. Just— please. Please give them back."

The four of them passed a guilty glance. "We can't," Beau replied finally.

"The fuck you can't," Verin spat. "Give them back!"

"Verin, love, we would really love to," the tiefling added, "but we can't."

"I don't understand; is it precious things you want? Here, have some!" He strode over to the boxes and ripped the first open, tossing the lid towards the bathroom door Jester was peeking out of. He reached in to grab a necklace—an ugly one, he had always thought, with a stylised beacon—and threw it in their direction.

Beau caught it. Of course.

"Have a whole box, actually, if you like them so damn much." He reached inside and pulled out a jewellery box, tears prickling in his eyes. He threw one of those, too, just for good measure. It gave him some satisfaction that Widogast had to dodge it. "Just give me back the bloody earrings that my brother wore at my fucking consecution!" He was properly crying now and could only imagine the mess he looked like, but he had reached his limit. And, in his opinion, he was allowed to with all that was going on.

At least they looked a little bit guilty. "Fuck man, we didn't know," Beau mumbled.

"It's just one pair, Beau," Jester called over from the bathroom. "I'm sure it will be alright."

"Yes, there's no need for this to escalate," Fjord agreed and strode over to them, his hands raised innocently.

"I don't even know you people," Verin muttered, looking at the people crowding into his brother's bedroom. "Why did I even let you inside?"

"Do you want the earrings back?" the aasimar woman asked, reaching into a bag at her hip. Had she been carrying a greatsword for the whole time? Verin suddenly noticed how overpowered he was, were he to face all of them. "You can have them back if you want. Here, you can have them back."

"For a moment," Widogast added, slowly drawing closer to him and taking the earrings from the aasimar. He held them out on his flat hand, almost like he had seen soldiers offer treats to horses. His whole demeanour reminded him of someone trying to calm a spooked animal. For some reason, that seemed hilarious to him and he couldn't help the hysterical giggle that escaped his throat.

"Verin, I need you to calm down," he continued. "I know that's easier said than done, but you need your head."

"I think we should all calm down," Clay said from the doorway. And despite being surprised again, he did. It didn't make any sense, but few things these days did.

"Did it work?" the halfling asked. Verin wasn't really sure what she was talking about.

"It did," Clay confirmed.

"Gut," Widogast said and pressed the earrings that had seemed so important a moment ago into Verin's hands. "I think we should maybe go somewhere else, ja? Will you come with me?"

Inadvisable as it might be, if Essek had trusted that man, he should, too. And out of all of the Nein, he seemed to be the most normal one. The one he could see Essek with most. So, he nodded.

"I'll get us back to the kitchen, quickly." Caleb held out his hand and Verin closed his eyes, steeling himself. 'I hate Dimension Door,' was the last thing that crossed his mind before the teleportation spell ripped him away, together with: 'We haven't been to the kitchen, yet.'

Evidently, there went something wrong with the spell. Verin didn't know much about magic, but he knew Dimension Door couldn't transport more than two people. So, when he heard Beau groan and say "Fuck, dude, warn us next time," he knew that something wasn't right.

"You knew about the plan, Beauregard," Widogast replied.

"It doesn't matter," Fjord decided. "Caduceus, do you think you could make tea again? I think the Calm Emotions is about to wear off."

Cautiously, Verin opened one eye, then the other. They were, in fact, standing in a kitchen, as far as he could tell. All of the Mighty Nein were surrounding him. The furniture seemed to have been made for people taller than them; Essek probably would need to float in order to avoid awkwardly climbing onto the chair. The firbolg, however, who was fussing with a teapot, seemed to fit right in. All in all, the interior was very rustic. And very much not in Essek's towers, not that he had ever seen that room, of course.

The panic hit him once more. Verin whirled around to the wizard, instinctively grasping for his sword. "Where the fuck—" he faltered, finding his hip bare. Of course, he hadn't brought it for the funeral. Instead, he opted for just grasping Widogast by the lapels and lifting him up a bit. It was supposed to be menacing, which surely would be more effective, were humans not so annoyingly tall. "Where the fuck are we?!" he spat out.

A lot of things seemed to happen at once—he heard a "Fuck, man, what-" from Beau, a "Well, Mister Thelyss" from the pirate, several hands trying to tug him away from the weak wizard—but he didn't pay them any mind. He just shook Widogast, who looked entirely too calm for his liking, and demanded: "Answer me!"

"Leave him," was all Widogast said. "He has every right to be angry."

Indeed, the people grasping at him retreated, still on guard and surrounding him. There was a creak outside the door and Verin desperately wished for his sword once more. Then, a voice cut through the tense silence that had descended over the kitchen: "Caleb, is that you? You're back early."

"Yeah, there were some complications. Best come and look yourself, Schatz."

There was a sigh that was entirely too familiar for Verin's liking. Then, the door opened with a creak and in walked a dead man. "Complications," Essek Thelyss said with a fond smile. "I was just a Sending away, what did you come here fo— oh."

The person wearing his brother's face stopped in their tracks as they saw him. A couple of complicated emotions passed over his face—confusion, surprise, regret, guilt. If he hadn't known before, Verin was certain now that they were impostors, all of them. His brother would never tolerate such a display of weakness. Still, the impostor said: "Hello, brother."

Verin whipped his head back around to the wizard in his grasp. "What the fuck are you playing at?" he hissed.

"I- what- Verin!" the Essek-impostor sputtered. "What are you doing; put him down!"

"I would appreciate that, yes," Widogast added.

"Not before you don't tell me what's going on."

"Going on?" The impostor sneered and shook his head in a perfect imitation of his brother. "Nothing is going on, Verin."

"You died," he accused him.

"Evidently not," Essek scoffed.

Verin narrowed his eyes, looking from the man claiming to be his brother over the other too calm wizard to the rest of the Nein, seemingly perfectly happy to let this play out. "Prove it," he demanded. "Tell me something only my brother would know."

"You've become paranoid," he noted and Verin couldn't decide if it sounded proud or disappointed. "Alright. When you and I were in our early thirties, you once got in trouble for scaling the outside of mother's mansion. Rightfully, I should have gotten in trouble, too, but I was hiding on the attic. And the reason you never told anyone, is because then you'd have had to explain that I, the wizard, had somehow outpaced you, the fighter, in a climbing competition."

Verin wrinkled his nose at that. "Well, my brother cheated."

"I did not cheat, thank you very much!" He huffed indignantly and crossed his arms. "You didn't say 'no magic' before we started."

He stared at Essek for a few moments. "It's you," he whispered.

"Obviously."

Verin dropped the wizard on the ground and looked over at his brother; really looked. The man looked nothing like the one he had known for most of his life. His hair was longer than it had ever been since he'd cut it off and his bare feet were touching the ground. His clothes were casual, a simple tunic and trousers. After this day, Verin knew for a fact that not even Essek's trancing clothes were that informal, and yet his brother looked more comfortable in them in another's house than he had in decades. On top of that, he kept glancing over to Widogast. And smiling. Essek was smiling.

No, this man looked nothing like the one Verin had known for nearly a century. But he looked a lot like his brother.

"You're alive," he said stupidly.

"Yes, of course I am," Essek said, as if Verin hadn't just attended his funeral.

It felt only right to tell him so: "Why are you alive? I was at your funeral."

"That's a long story," he sighed and floated onto one of the chairs that were slightly too tall for him. He accepted a cup of tea from Clay with thanks and turned back to Verin. "Why are you here?"

"Well, that's a pretty long story, too," Jester spoke up. "He kind of started freaking out about your earrings, I think? And he was crying and looking pretty awful and everything, right Caleb?"

"I, ah— didn't think he'd believe us if we told him about you," Caleb said. "So, we had agreed beforehand to bring him here, in case of an emergency."

"He thought we were lying," Clay added.

"I suppose it is my story to tell," Essek said. "Earrings, Verin?"

"They're your favourite," Verin said stupidly and held them out to him.

His face grew soft. "Oh," he said as he took them gingerly, "I didn't know that you kne—"

Before he could overthink and do something stupid like stop himself, he surged forward and enveloped his brother in a tight hug. After a moment Essek closed his arms around him, too.

It seemed so unreal, to be able to hold him after mourning him for what felt like years. All the worries, all the grief and anger that had crushed him in the past few weeks and for what? For the bastard to still be alive after all. It wasn't fair. Why had he had to go through all of that? And why did he feel the pressing urge to start crying again? He should be happy, shouldn't he, that his brother wasn't dead. So why did it make him feel so awful?

"I think this is our cue to leave," Fjord said. Verin felt his brother nod and heard the Mighty Nein shuffle out of the kitchen, the door closing behind them with a creak.

Only then, Essek spoke up. "Verin," he asked quietly, "are you crying?"

"Shut up," he mumbled through the thick fog of tears and snot, definitely not crying. "I hate you, Essek. Do you know what I went through?"

"Meeting the Mighty Nein? Yes, I can imagine."

"They're horrible," he complained. "They're loud and they're rude and they had absolutely no respect for any of your belongings! I thought I was going mad."

"They are. They also are my friends, you know."

"How?" he asked agonised.

"I know they don't look like it, but they are surprisingly capable. And I am sure that you've noticed most of them to be annoyingly charming. But I think their absolute worst traits are their infinite stubbornness and perseverance. They quite literally did not leave me alone until they had befriended me."

Verin glanced up at him questioningly. "And were half in love with the wizard?" he guessed.

Essek scowled darkly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Perhaps."

He snorted and disentangled himself from their embrace. Very calmly he said: "You're a liar."

Essek looked genuinely startled at that. "What?"

"You said, you trusted me more than him. Why then, did he know and I didn't?"

"It's... complicated," he said.

"You wizards say that a lot."

"Verin." Essek closed his eyes. "I trust you. Implicitly. And I care about you. Which is why I chose not to burden you with the knowledge of my misdeeds. I didn't— I didn't want to put you in an impossible situation to choose between me and our queen."

He laughed nervously. "What on earth are you talking about? I mean, you didn't commit treason or anything."

Essek didn't answer, avoiding eye-contact instead.

"Right?"

Still, Essek kept stubbornly quiet.

"Oh," Verin breathed. He took a moment trying to reconcile what he knew about his brother with the fact that he was apparently a traitor. It all fit together ridiculously easy. "The beacons."

Essek looked up at him in shock and he knew he had hit the mark. "What?"

"You stole the beacons." Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. Essek had been studying them at the time, one of the only people with frequent access to them. He had always been fascinated by them, yet his theories had been rejected for their heretic nature. As Shadowhand, he had also regular contact with counterparts from the Empire, albeit not officially. Then, a few years after Essek’s research had been denied, they had vanished. How had he never seen this before?

"Oh Essek...," he said softly.

"No, please— I don’t—Please don’t—” He seemed to deflate, curling in on himself. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you, I—”

"I don't care,” Verin interrupted his frantic ramblings.

"What?" Essek looked up at him, looking just as shocked as Verin felt.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, realising that it was true the moment the words left his mouth. For how could he care about something as trivial as treason when Essek was sitting right in front of him, alive and well. "You're my brother, I don't care. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year. Maybe in ten. Right now, I only care that you're alive."

“I—What—I don’t—” Essek stuttered, lifting and then lowering his hands a few times. “I don’t know how— If I can—Fuck.”

There was a joke on the tip of his tongue, but even he knew that this wasn’t the right time for it. Essek was obviously trying to tell him something and it took him a minute to decipher that strange behaviour. “Are you asking for a hug?” he hazarded a guess.

An agonised expression passed over his face and for a moment Verin thought there were tears gathering in his brother’s eyes. Surely not. “I don’t know if I may. I don’t mean to overstep—”

Without further ado, Verin stepped forward and gathered a yelping Essek up and squeezed him tightly. “Of course you may!” he assured him, awkwardly patting his shaking shoulders. “I love you, Essek. I am very glad that you’re alive.”

“I’m very glad to see you, too,” Essek answered and squeezed him a little tighter.

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auideas · 2 years ago

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Hi! If it's not too much trouble do you have any ideas/prompts for like a youtuber/influencer/celebrity au sort of thing?? I've been searching all over but I can barely find anything,,

Hey there! It's absolutely no trouble at all -- we'd love to help

This AU category is definitely one that needs a bit of love. We actually had a similar request earlier this year asking for YouTuber AUs, so here's the link to the set we made back then. Additionally, here are some links to some associated tags (such as YouTube AU, Vlogger AU, Video Game AU, etc.) -- maybe some of them will help!

Additionally, here's a completely new set of prompts that extend into some of the specific areas you mentioned. Looking forward to seeing what you're able to make with this new content!

(Plus, A. Admin Kasi maaaaaaaaaaay have written an entire Wattpad story about a YouTuber when she was 14 so like the memories being brought up are painful)

Admin M:

Being Character A’s bodyguard was supposed to be an easy gig -- after all, how much trouble could a celebrity cause? That’s what Character B thought when they took the job...as it turns out, they were very wrong. Long story short, Character A told the paparazzi that Character B was their new significant other just so they’d get off Character A’s back about the fact that they weren’t in a relationship with anyone. The hell is Character B supposed to do NOW??

Rival influencers Characters A and B acted as pleasantly as they could to one another in public settings (especially online) because as everyone knows, being nice to one another is usually better than ripping each others’ heads off. That fact didn’t stop them from hating one another as viscously as possible, though, and this relationship slowly builds until Character B can’t take it anymore and finally lets it slip that they despise one another. Can the two find some common ground and rebuild their careers?

Characters A and B were once great friends who used to game together all the time. Over the years, however, they slowly drifted apart and forgot about one another. While Character A kept gaming and gradually started to stream, Character B abandoned their online life altogether. After 7 years passes, Character A amasses a huge following and hosts an event with their subscribers. Thousands of fans show up, but the only name that Character A recognizes is Character B’s in the crowd. Three things could happen as this story continues: 1) Character A can’t place where they met Character B before and Character B gets upset, 2) Character B may not remember Character A and is also upset, or 3) they remember one another and Character A decides the best way to rekindle their relationship with their busy schedule would be to just feature Character B on their streams [needless to say, Character A’s fans enjoy their casual flirting and wish it would turn into something more].

Characters A and B are high school influencers who have a rivalry and compete to publish similar content in their small town. They believe that going to college would open up opportunities for them and they wouldn’t have to deal with the other, but lo and behold, they’ve accidentally chosen the same university. Do these two rivals partner up, change schools, or do the carry their vitriolic rivalry to this new battleground?

When Character A lost their parents at the age of 3, they wrote it off as a tragic event and forgot about their previous life. After all, Character A’s new parents seemed to love them with all their hearts. The fact that they forced Character A to become a childhood influencer was a bit annoying, sure, but they still liked the work they did. At the age of 14, they host a panel at a convention to answer questions and someone comes up to the microphone. They’re older than Character A, but they look so, so familiar. Character B reveals that they’re Character A’s older sibling who was adopted by another family. Character B tries to convince Character A that their new parents are just using Character A to get money and that they needed to run away while they still had the chance. Character A only starts to believe Character B when they’re being manhandled out the door by security. That couldn’t be true...could it?

Characters A, B, C, and D have never encountered technical issues when they played and streamed their favorite game, so they expected that experience to carry over to the sequel in the series. On the first night of the beta, however, they feel a bit strange. They attribute the issue to nerves since they knew this would be their biggest stream yet and decide to just sign on and get started. 15 minutes in, however, the feeling increases and they pass out only to wake up inside the game. This would be a weird type of drugged-up trip, but looking down at the palms of their hands revealed the stream information...they were still live, and the chat was going nuts. TL;DR -- the group gets stuck in a video game, but somehow, their streams are still running. Can the group survive this video game world while the real world watches their every move 24/7?

A. Admin Kasi:

Happily living alone in their apartment, Character A is curious about their new neighbor. They’re quiet, reserved, and for some reason they look exactly like the celebrity Character A was in love with as a teenager. There’s no way it could be them… right??

Character A was walking on the streets of a big city when a random “influencer” decides to embarrass them on their knowledge. Turns out, Character A does not like to be messed with and decides to get back on the influencer for making them look like an idiot in viral video.

Streaming was supposed to be a fun way to make more friends and share Character A’s unique personality. During their first stream, a viewer compares them to a supposedly famous streamer that Character A had never heard about, but once they went to their page the streamer was… there’s no way? Why is does the streamer look and act exactly like Character A??

Because of an insane fan sending death threats, a well known celebrity decides to go undercover as the opposite sex in an exclusive boarding school. Their roommate, who had never really had an interest in that celebrity is really shocked how out of touch their new roommate is and can very obviously tell something about them is out of place.

Character A always wanted to forget about how they dated Character B in high school after their relationship crashed and burned. Now, ten years after their relationship, Character A receives a back stage ticket in the mail, for Character B’s upcoming sold out show.

Character A was in something very small and obscure many years ago. It was long forgotten in their minds until they meet Character B, someone from a small country where that one small thing Character A did is incredibly popular. Having learned this, Character A travels with them to the small country where Character A is a massive celebrity.

Classic fanfic trope of celebrity sees fan at concert and falls immediately!

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fangirlingtodeath513 · 4 years ago

Text

Ayo this is unedited notes from Misha’s panel excuse the emojis (except for the one after Misha said “what are they gonna do, fire me?” because that one was warrented)

* Watching the finale was tough because it represented the end of a chapter of his life but he has a palpable feeling that the spn family isn’t going anywhere

* Favorite memory making a recipe w/kids and Vicki? Pasta with jam sauce 🥺 bizarre and totally disgusting 😂

* Projects in mind? Yes, worked a lot on US election which was pretty invigorating for him, plans to do more work on Georgia runoff elections. Publishing a book of poetry, close to closing a deal with a publisher for that. Couple of film projects he’s trying to get off the ground, one he wouldn’t be in or direct, other interested in directing and possibly acting.

* What do you think happened when Jack brought Cas back and what’s he doing? There was a different ending that COVID made impossible to shoot. Not supposed to talk about it but it was big crowd scenes. In the original iteration, he didn’t go to recreate Heaven, he had a different ending. Didn’t read the last two endings and watched them as they aired. Knew in the abstract what Cas and Jack’s fates were but he doesn’t really know what the answer is.

* What was West and Maison’s experience of watching Spn for the first time? They can’t watch scary things at all so they haven’t ever watched a full episode. West and Maison asked him to tell them when a scary part was coming up and Misha said “well unfortunately, I don’t really know”. Kids looked totally shellshocked at the cold open 😂 Spn may have been good for his career and the fandom but has irrevocably scarred his children

* Screencapping chat because they’re typing too fast 😂

* Will you go to Russia again? He’d love to but he’s said a lot of bad things about Putin so he might be arrested 😂

* What qualities do he and Cas share? Over time, the character melded with Misha and became softer and more sensitive and tried to do the right thing and be a good person.

* What’s the one thing you’ll take with you from playing Castiel? He thinks a lot. On a professional level, it was fascinating to play a character for so many years, (discussed recently with J2) the characters really became a part of them. Watching Dean’s death he cried, but because “that’s Cas’s friend Dean dying”. Cas will always be will him, an aspect of his being forever.

* What’s your favorite thing to bake with kiddos? Loves to bake pie, fave is strawberry rhubarb.

* He teared up watching 15x18 🥺

* Have other cast members disclosed what the original ending was supposed to be? Doesn’t want to be the one to reveal state secrets but “What are they gonna do, fire me? 😏”

* We saw a version of Heaven that was populated with all the people from their past. But they couldn’t do that due to COVID restrictions.

* Fave BTS memory from set? Don’t have one, they’ve been close friends for 12 years. They’ve had laughing fits, fights, gotten pissed off at each other, but some of his fondest memories of work are of Supernatural.

* Why did Cas’s trench coat stay intact? He can magically mend his clothing. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ When he went in, they wanted him to look like Constantine-suit was way too big, had to fold his shirt and tuck it because it was too big. He got a new suit at first which wasn’t explained, lost the tie and then brought it back, which wasn’t explained, and once season they just started him in a new wardrobe and said nothing 😂

* Stole trench coats from set, will probably wrap them around himself and cry at some point

* To get in the zone for Cas’s confession and death, he went and sat in a dark corner of the set and Rob Hayter stood guard over him so no one would bother him 🥺 and when they were ready for him on set, Rob would come over very gently and say “Misha they’re ready for you”

* How did you feel when you read 15x18? He knew that ending was coming for a long time, been talking to Berens about it, and was really happy about it. It was the ending he wanted for Cas. Felt risky and brave for the show to do and he was proud to be a part of that. Seen people complaining about bury your gays trope and he doesn’t feel that’s what happened with Cas’s ending. He’a glad Cas got to have that moment and he’s proud the show did that.

* Do you think you’ll get an SPN tattoo? Doesn’t have any, was thinking about getting some for his children. Should he get tats of Jensen and Jared’s faces? 😂 Get a tat of Cas’s face on his abdomen? 😂 Probably no tattoo re:spn for him but he totally supports anyone that does.

* The last scene he shot as Cas was the last scene of the day on Friday. He, Alex, Rich, and Jensen all had to get to Vegas for a con. They shot late into the night and finished around 1:30-very teary, Misha’s goodbye to the show- had to get a chartered flight to get there on time. One of the engines exploded and they had to circle back, plane was shaking, really scary. Texting their families, didn’t know if they were gonna crash land. It was such a strange night, super intense.

* He misses the pimpmoble.

* What non-hunter job would Cas be good at? Security guard, he never sleeps and never gets bored. Not a great teacher, architect, or artist. Handy in the kitchen, maybe a cook?

* What color are Cas’s wings? Shit, idk, I always thought they were black. Ah! They’re rainbow colored, how about that?

* When he was directing, Jared would take the canvas off his director’s chair and lay it over so it looked like a real chair and Misha fell for that probably 5 times. Jared kept messing up lines so Misha cut and went to see what was wrong and Jared pied him in the face. Jensen brought him another shirt with was nice, went for lunch and Jensen pied him in the face 🙄😂

* Real story behind the handprint in 15x18? He doesn’t remember but it was a really nice touch.

* Fave thing about panels? He and Jensen have had a lot of fun panels in Rome 👀 Brought up the resume-off 👀👀 Had pizza delivered to a panel once.

* Fave version of Castiel to play? Had fun playing Lucifer. Loved playing human!Cas, was fun to explore what it would be like. Just regular Cas was his favorite. Wouldn’t have wanted to trade regular Cas for any other iterations 🥺

#misha collins #supernatural #spn spoilers

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years ago

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What would happen if you were sent back and ended up in the orphanage with Tom Riddle—and say you also had magic?

Oh boy.

Well, there's a lot to question here. Judging by the... spirit of this ask, I presume I'm... pretty much reincarnated. I'm in the orphanage, I'm much younger than I am now and a child, I'm pre-Hogwarts age, and I retain my current knowledge.

For the purpose of this ask I suppose I also retain my current mental faculties. Despite being in the body of an eight-year-old, I'm not The Carnivorous Muffin at eight.

Welp, there's a lot to consider here.

First, I probably don't realize I'm in Harry Potter for quite some time and instead assume I've been reincarnated to some parallel universe. It's the 1930's, I'm in England in the depression, WWI has occurred and the vast majority of major historical events I know about seem to have happened in the right order, and this Earth is eerily similar to the Earth I left behind.

Strange that I appear to remember everything of my past life with my adult mental abilities, but alright universe, I guess that's how we're going to play this.

What I do know is that I'm dirt poor, presumably still a woman which does not bode well for my career prospects, and if I want any prospects in life period I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. It'd be great if I got adopted to help with this, and might be nice to have people in my life who love me, but there's a lot of orphans in the world and a lot of orphans who are much less weird than I am.

The orphanage is the orphanage and not great, Mrs. Cole is overworked, the orphanage is chronically understaffed, and the kids are running wild beating the shit out of each other.

Being a girl, I probably don't have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of me quite as much, but I still probably try to keep my head down and don't aggravate the particularly beefy looking orphans.

Yes, there's some very angry gremlin named Tom Riddle around who will shove you down the stairs in retribution, but that's just a weird coincidence. And then supernatural shit starts happening. Billy's rabbit hangs itself, people get injuries when Tom is nowhere near them, and I start wondering if this is really the Tom Riddle.

I'm in Wool's Orphanage, my matron is Mrs. Cole, Tom Riddle is running around lighting things on fire. It's possible, though it could all be a strange coincidence.

Now, how things go from here depends on how controlled my own magic is. Since accidental magic typically does manifest at least once or twice, it probably does manifest for me for.. something. If Tom Riddle's there to witness it then...

Well, I imagine he's very offended. Here he was, special, different, better than everyone else, and then some girl in the orphanage (who dares to get very good grades on her assignments in school) has it too.

And I just stand there, smiling, going "Tee hee".

He probably confronts me to prove that he's better at it than I am, and he probably is unless the universe hates both him and me, but having someone else with the Shining around probably prompts him to take me as his protégé (in part so he can show off and in part because he's genuinely excited to be able to share this super cool talent).

I am now apprentice to eight-year-old Tom Riddle. Whoop de doo.

Well, I don't remember this part of Harry Potter, so now I'm probably confused as to where I am again. Regardless, I try to advise Tom on how to tone it down and not, say, traumatize Amy and Dennis for life and antagonize all the other orphans forever. He probably doesn't take me seriously. What do I know, I can't even light that patch of grass on fire?

Hanging around Tom Riddle gets me a reputation to, given the difference in genders, probably a fairly nasty one at that. When Dumbledore arrives he's undoubtedly told hot gossip about how eleven-year-old Tom and I have had sex in a ritual to summon Satan. Dumbledore takes this seriously.

Dumbledore probably meets us both at the same time and it's a disaster. I tried my best to prep Tom without revealing I'm a prophet, Tom first doesn't believe there might not be others, then doesn't believe they would be antagonist/anything but amazed by how awesome he is.

Well, Dumbledore lights his wardrobe on fire while I sit there. Dying inside. Dumbledore probably also does something to me too, to teach me some kind of lesson about something.

I imagine he temporarily disfigures me/makes me appear very ugly, then sticks a mirror to the wall, that way I realize that looks aren’t everything/being a whore is wrong. Tom, still traumatized over the wardrobe, is no help and my magic’s probably not controlled enough to do a thing about it.

I spend a day looking like a pig, Tom and I are given just enough money to buy new wands and second hand/barely functioning everything else and given the world’s worst directions to Diagon Alley. Thanks, Albus.

Well, months pass, we get our wands, Tom gets excited for Hogwarts and I... start seriously considering the future. WWII is coming, the Blitz is coming, Tom and I live in east London and must be able to evacuate during the bombing of London (which went on well past the Blitz to the end of the war). I also start considering my future in the wizarding world. Do I now actually have career prospects?

Probably not because I’m muggle born and a woman. My best bet is doing very well in useful subjects and finding employment with the goblins, I can’t imagine they have the same hang ups as the wizarding world.

Tom wants to go to Slytherin, of course, I tell him this is a bad idea. “Gee Tom,” I say, “Not sure how I know this but I have this feeling that Slytherin is filled with people who loathe our very existence and will shank us. Why don’t we pick Ravenclaw or Gryffindor instead?”

No one shanks Tom Riddle! Tom says. Tom is still eleven and while he admits that sometimes I may, in retrospect, have been right about certain things that doesn’t mean he wants to go to the house known for hard work. That’s code word for everyone there being a moron and having no other redeeming features than tenacity. As for the other two, Ravenclaws sound like smug, elitist, nerds and Gryffindors like dumb jocks.

Better to be known for ambition, cunning, and actually being competent.

Well, there’s no talking him out of this one, and goddamn it we’re all each other has.

I’m the closest thing Tom Riddle has ever had to a friend in all these years and in the orphanage the only one who could hold a decent conversation with him. And while it’s not my moral obligation to keep Tom from becoming a domestic terrorist, and there’s no guarantee I even can, dumping him for one of the other houses and drifting apart won’t help.

Not to mention that, after all these years, I’m undoubtedly lonely, I’m in this foreign land, and he’s now the closest thing to a friend I have.

Looks like I’m going to Slytherin, YOOOOOLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! I shout as a battle cry as tears run down my face. I may have to convince the hat to put me in Slytherin, but like all human beings I am a mixture of many qualities. I’m not cunning in the least, mind games exhaust me unutterably, but I’m full of ambition.

This confirms every bad opinion Dumbledore had regarding me and Tom.

For the next several months, Tom probably beats the shit out of dormmates who steal his things/harass him. He beats up mine too because feminism (TM) means that he should treat all people equally when guilty of the same crime. I... am not sure I can win that fight so I just resign myself to having to adopt some of Tom’s tactics to make sure I’m not shoved in lockers, have tampons thrown at me, or pig’s blood dumped on me at the prom.

Once again, everyone thinks Tom Riddle and I are dating. I don’t even know if they’re wrong at this point.

Well, being in class with eleven year olds who seem to have had little to no prior education, Tom and I are undoubtedly blazing through class. I imagine I’m bored out of my mind (the Hogwarts curriculum sounds unbelievably boring) and Tom is... well, probably devouring the library but probably also bored. I decide to try and see if I can find some real history texts on this world (there are probably none, the wizarding world seems to only have two historians and both... have a different approach to history than current modern thought as I know it) and discover what magic even is. That shit is fascinating: wingardium leviosa is not.

Dumbledore likely gives neither me nor Tom points in class, I think the house cup is stupid, so I really don’t care. I have no interest in playing quidditch, neither does Tom, so that doesn’t happen.

The second world war starts up, Tom, me, and the muggle borns are the only ones who give a flying fuck. I work harder on figuring out how to get lodging during the Blitz/the bombing of London. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cole hates me too for being the Bride of Satan, so that’s a no go. Third year, 1939, I probably write her in earnest anyway telling her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, send Tom and I instructions for the summer/where the orphans are staying/how they’ve been dispersed to the countryside. As a back up plan, I try desperately to shmooze shopkeepers in Hogsmeade during every Hogsmeade weekend to get myself and Tom part time jobs and lodging over the summer. As a back up back up plan, I spend my time badgering Tom to become very good at survivalist wandless magic and if the Lord has pity on me gain some ability in it myself.

Hopefully, either Mrs. Cole or one of the Hogsmeade shop owners take pity on us. If not, then Tom and I are going extreme camping. Given Mrs. Cole (and the brain damage brought on by Dumbledore erasing memories left and right) and the likelihood of Hogsmeade shop owners just not getting it, Tom and I probably go extreme camping.

(Tom, meanwhile, asks Dippet and Dumbledore if we can stay in Hogwarts over the summer. He’s told no exceptions. London’s being bombed, you say? No exceptions. Toodles. Tom is never the same.)

Me, Tom Riddle, a tent we made ourselves, several rabbits we had to catch and skin ourselves, and the pitiful fire that we can keep going through pure will alone because if we try to use real people spells then we’ll get arrested. It has the benefit of making Tom feel very manly and impressive, catching his own food, but both of us are well aware that this sucks.

But hey, we aren’t dead.

Well, I’m sure Tom doesn’t appreciate that and this is where I imagine he seriously starts talking about violent revolution. I imagine much of my time is spent discussing the merits of not violently overthrowing our ant overlords. I imagine a thirteen-year-old Tom isn’t impressed by my pacifism, but he’s not married to Voldemort yet (probably).

Then I imagine the horcrux thing comes up and... Well, I will argue hard against it. Humans die, it is a truth of the universe, and simply something we have to accept. Horcruxes are not a measure against that, they can be destroyed, given infinite time they will be, and the sacrifice they require is too high: human life as well as the very essence of who you are.

What is a soul? I’m not sure, we never really learn in HP canon, but whatever it is, it is in some way the essence of yourself. If you take half of it and throw it somewhere else, you will cease to be you, someone or something else is walking around in your body while the other half of you exists in endless agony.

If you must chase immortality, create a philosopher’s stone (as I darkly wonder why it was that couldn’t be replicated and what Flamel had to do to make it in the first place). On second thought, maybe we should search for the Holy Grail.

Whether I can talk Tom out of this or not is... unclear. I’m going to say that I can, in part because I imagine he’ll want to show the chamber off to me, tell me when he realizes he’s Heir of Slytherin, and in doing so I can prevent the basilisk incident from occurring. Without that, there’s no dead Myrtle, which means no first victim. That summer, when he goes to the Gaunts, I’ll go with him and convince him that it’s not worth it. He can just turn around and leave these people alone, I hopefully can talk him down. Which means no second victim.

I start writing Flamel to see if Tom or I can get an apprenticeship (Dumbledore probably beats us to the chase and poisons him against us, but it’s worth a shot).

Then, should all go well, I can convince Tom to find employment with the goblins rather than shady antique dealers on the bad side of town. Hopefully, I can convince him to never become Voldemort, and instead we travel the world together looking for the origins of magic or something.

Dumbledore goes around taking people’s memories of us in preparation for when Tom becomes a dark lord and I his lady of the night darkness.

TL;DR Apparently my life would become an SI/Tom Riddle fic. So, thanks anon.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #tom riddle #albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #meta #headcanon #opinion

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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

Text

collab masterlist

✧ pairing: villain!hawks x afab!reader

✧ word count: 5k

✧ warnings: this is like all smut, angst, ambiguous but happy ending, unhealthy relationships, mentions of transactional sex, reader has a healing quirk but it's really just for poetic purposes, reader has a vagina, no other gendered parts, oral sex (reader receiving), vague metaphorical drug reference, mentions of blood, mentions of wounds, mating press, soft sex (?), sorta, slight potential could be read as dubcon but they're both into it

✧ summary: for years you've stitched hawks back together when the world has torn him to shreds—and he always pays you back, though you can't help but start want more than he can give you.

✧ a/n: hey y'all this months theme was villain/hero swap with a shared opener! please go check out all the other wonderful works in this collab, there are so many talented writers/artists involved!! credit to @/lady-bakuhoe for the amazing intro. also bonus points if you catch the old aesthetic tumblr post references.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

***

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

That fact is made even more horrifically apparent as he stumbles through your open window—and how long has it been since you’ve slept with it closed?—dripping with blood and panting from his flight.

The T.V. blares in the background, filling your tiny apartment with incessant ramblings that only grow louder by the day, and you already know what they’re going to say before they say it. Because you see him, before the reporters stumble upon heroes in the wreckage—you see what they do to him before they’re warning the public of dangerous villains loose in the streets.

They spout off about failing heroes but you think they’ve done a pretty damn good butchers job. Red feathers matted together, sticky and brown, fall in tufts from his back. You burn with shameful jealousy at the thought of those who would call themselves heroes having laid hands on what is yours.

He isn’t really yours and you know that, though you often wish you could be a bit more delusional. It might not hurt so much then.

They call him a villain. They call him a threat to society.

But even faced with the truth spilling from him and onto your creaking floors, it is easy to forget what a ruthless predator the man before you becomes when he leaves these four walls.

Especially as he falls forward on heavy feet straight into your arms, outstretched and waiting. There are stains on your shirt but you’ve known the secret for getting blood out of clothing for years now. Cold water for the fabric, warm to wash away the grime on his lovely skin.

“Gonna need you to fix me up again, sweetheart,” Hawks mumbles into your shoulder where his forehead rests.

His breathing is even more ragged now, not just from the flight.

“I know,” you reply and your hands shake when they find the gaping wound at his side—wide and deeper than the ones before. “I know. Can you walk?”

He doesn’t respond but that mop of golden hair shifts a bit as he slings an arm over your shoulder and rests his weight. You don’t need to direct him to your bedroom. This is an old game you’re playing and he knows the steps.

So do you.

Though, you’re never sure if it's dread that fills you and makes your stomach knot and your knees weak. Or if it’s that awful, momentary rush of excitement at the prospect of being able to run your fingers over him, bare and giving you free reign.

As long as he’s bleeding out on your floor.

Then you can feel him.

When he’s dying and needs you.

Needs you to fix him.

But won’t ever let you close enough to finish the job the way you want to.

You comfort yourself in with the knowledge that at least he lets you this close. At least those thin, silver-skin scars are the unmistakable mark of your healing hands. At least you’ll always haunt him like the red feather down that sticks to your pillows or between your floorboards.

So you strip him carefully and try not to let his sculpted chest distract you from the work. Hawks is silent, such a model patient as always. Only grunting when your fingers move to knit together the ragged edges of his flesh.

This will leave a nasty mark, you know it already. But you can’t find it in yourself to mourn the loss of that lovely skin.

It will only make it harder for him to forget you.

You’re knelt beside him, laid out on a towel you keep at the edge of the bed. Blood will soak through to the sheets regardless, but you try your best. He takes a sharp breath, white teeth catching the back of his hand between them to stifle groans.

You wish there was more pleasure to it. That he was biting back moans for you instead of trying not to scream as his flesh pulsed and grew hot while it was rebuilt under your fingertips. So you indulge, pretend your hands are elsewhere, roaming his perfect waistline and pulling whimpers from him.

Your dangerous, villainous, predator Hawks sprawled on his back, wings spread and cumming onto his chest under you.

The sounds above you change, and you know it hurts—must be excruciating as bone is set back into place—but you chose to believe it’s because he’s trying to keep himself from screaming your name as he reaches his release.

Hawks, you’d croon to him—Hawks because you don’t know his real name. Don’t know who he was before he started this underground life of crime on the fringes of a society that called him a monster and then turned him into one.

He isn’t a monster in your bed, though he may cry like one.

Cry as you mold his flesh and try not to look him in the face. Try to pretend they are an overflow of some better emotion. And when those summer wheat field eyes roll back in his head and those horrible pretty noises stop, you push past the growing ache in your limbs until the skin under your palms is smooth and no longer leaking thick, red blood.

And you do your best to resist the itch to feel more of him while he can’t stop you. Even with your fingers numb from overexertion, you can’t help but fall back on your heels and long for the feeling of his cheek in your hand, or his chest on your face.

But your part of the transaction is done.

And your permission doesn’t extend past these limits.

And it pains you to wish harm on him.

But it hurts even more when he does not need you.

So you sit and hate yourself and hope that those heroes with their disgusting philosophies get their shit together just a bit more. So you won’t lose your purpose. So he’ll keep coming through your window, permanently open through rainstorms and snow and spring heat.

Hawks’ breath evens slowly, and you stay still as a watched painting—no shifting eyes or moving limbs.

You crave these times like water or warm food—constant and instinctively.

And this is the only time you’ll ever have them, hands so filled with pinpricks of fried nerves that you can barely feel the soft, relaxed muscle beneath them.

What a tragedy.

What an injustice—

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

***

“Hmm,” he groans, sitting up and wincing as the new flesh protests under his movements.

“You should rest for a bit longer.”

Hawks looks at you, stretched next to him on the mattress—a purposeful few inches of space left between your bodies. It’s both selfish and practical advice.

But he isn’t here for that kind of help.

“You know I can’t just be sittin’ on my ass,” he quips, flashing you that eyes closed, wide smirk that sets your heart hammering in your chest. “Can’t have anyone tracing me back here.”

“Normally I’d agree,” you don’t find it in yourself to give the words any bite, “but you were just actively bleeding out a few minutes ago.”

“Sure, but that was a few minutes ago,” he winks and you can already feel the bed shifting as he moves to settle himself over your hips, one toned thigh on either side to bracket you against the bed. “Now, let me pay you back for all that hard work, yeah sweetheart?”

You wish the way he peered up through those long lashes, gold eyes honed in on you like a piece of meat on a hook, didn’t make your face burn this much.

It doesn’t mean anything to him.

Because this arrangement really is transactional—so you have to get something out of it too. At least, that’s what he tells himself, you think. He doesn’t know that those scant few moments you hold his life between your fingers is more than enough payment.

It’s been this way since the very first time you stumbled across him, half dead in an alley. But then you think it might have just been a ‘heat of the moment’ sort of thing that had just stuck.

You heal him and he makes you writhe on the sheets with his tongue and his hands, until you're fucked into unconscious bliss and he can slip away without your prying eyes watching him go.

But you still aren’t allowed to touch Hawks, even when he reaches into those deep parts of you and molds them to fit only him.

“You don’t—” you start to protest, partly because you want to believe you don’t want it and partly because you want to hear him insist that he does.

“Shh,” Hawks presses a calloused finger to your mouth and it takes every ounce of strength not to suck it past your lips. “I don’t like leaving my debts unpaid.”

That’s the end of your determination for the night. So you try to relax into his touch as slides your bottoms off and tosses them to the floor. Try not to clench up under those fingers that spread your legs. He doesn’t like it when you squirm away, when you flinch from his hands.

You want to think it’s because he hopes you aren’t afraid of him—of what he is—like the rest are, and not because he wants to get it over with as quickly as possible.

You want to.

But he’s so hard to read, and your mind is not often a kind place.

“Mm, god I’m always so hungry after you patch me up baby,” Hawks licks his lips as he stares down at you. “You won’t mind if I eat you right?”

You cringe at how fast your head shakes.

“Mm, course you wouldn’t.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice, and he’s right though you resent it a bit that he’s got you pegged so easily.

But you’re weak, you’re no villain, you’re no hero.

And so you’ll never be able to resist him. But, damn, did you wish you had a name to cry out. Then at the very least, you could keep a part of him with you too. Then you’d have some to moan on the nights he goes uninjured and you have to bring yourself to lonely release, only thinking of him.

Of those wings spread above you like a burning, red sunset, obscuring the rest of the world from view with his blinding light.

“Hawks…” you hiss instead as he shifts your legs over his shoulders and lays his tender chest on the sheets. “Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s it gonna be tonight then?” he asks, breath ghosting over the damp folds between your thighs.

“Thought you said you were gonna use your tongue,” you whine, impatient now for any scrap of attention he’s willing to give.

“If that’s what you want,” he presses a kiss into the crease of your leg and hip, nipping the delicate skin so you whine again. “It’s whatever you want, you know that.”

It isn’t though.

It’s not whatever you want.

You can pick the position, you can ask for his mouth or his fingers, but even then, they won’t go past your neck. Your hands must stay firmly knotted in the comforter and away from him while he works. Cause he is working. This is part of the job to him, it's only in your fantasies that he’s doing it simply for the hell of it.

Hawks nudges your embarrassingly soaked slit with his nose and hums at you, “So is that what you want? Want me to eat your pretty pussy, yeah?”

“Yes—ngh,” you don’t get much in past the confirmation.

He’s a busy man.

He doesn’t have time for your stupid, romantic day dreams.

So he dives right in, and it’s enthusiastic enough that you can convince yourself he simply wants you that badly.

Hawks tongue licks a long strip from your hole to your clit and sucks the little bud past his plush lips. They’re a lovely, soft pink against your skin and they make a mess of you in seconds. He starts up an even rhythm, drawing circles into the nerves that sing and have heat building up in you only seconds after he’s started.

You hate that you love how well he knows your body.

You hate that you only know his when it’s shutting down.

“You taste so good, you know that?” he mumbles, lapping at you and kneading your thighs. “Could live down here just drinking you every fucking day.”

He doesn’t always talk like that but you’re happy he is now. It distracts you from the deep, ingrained urge to yank him by the hair and taste yourself on his lips.

“Makes me wish I’d let those damn heroes get hits in more often,” he’s back to panting and you keen at the sound. “Want my fingers too?”

“Fuck yes,” you don’t even bother hiding the desperation anymore.

He deserves the boost to his ego. You’d shower him with praise if he’d let you, bathe him in warm words and press them into his skin with your tongue.

But he doesn’t let you.

Hawks’ hand on your thigh trails slowly against the sensitive skin until he’s pulling back to run his fingers through your folds to ease the stretch a bit as he pushes two inside. He knows you can take what he gives to you, knows you love the way he fills you up.

Your tingling hands ache to grab his head and force his lips back as he sits for a moment, eyes glued on the space where his fingers disappear into your body. He groans low at the wet sounds your bodies make at their joining. Your legs shake where they rest on him, the one other point of contact he’s allowed. Those deadly soft feathers brush your calves as he curls his fingers up and waits expectantly for the strangled cry he pulls from you.

“There it is,” his voice is so much lower when he speaks now. “Can’t exactly show you the real ones, but how ‘bout you let me make you see some stars, huh?”

He asks so much of you. So much. So often.

In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever actively asked him for a thing he hadn’t already offered in the few years you’d known him. Hawks does it all—the taking and the giving and the demanding.

And you’re simply along for the ride, holding on for dear life lest he drop you, let you plummet like rock to the barren ground.

Still, you are mortal and you crave and you will take what you can get.

“Mhm,” you whimper when his deft fingers increase their pace, not thrusting but grinding mercilessly into that delicious spot inside.

“You wanna cum now, sweet thing?”

Then, true to his villainous nature, Hawks latches his lips back onto your clit, wracking your body with waves of truly sinful pleasure. His tongue draws quick, perfect circles across the bud just how you like. You’ll never know why it feels so much better when it’s him touching you.

How he knows exactly what you want.

Most of it.

Then his other hand is reaching around your hip, thumb taking over to press down where his tongue had been. Panting for the third time, his gorgeous head rests on your thigh and he stares dead on into your eyes. That predator yellow gaze pins you to the pillows better than any hand could and he licks across his lips while you watch, moaning as he tastes you there.

You groan deep and unabashedly at the sight.

“What is it?” he’s teasing you, unable to keep that part of his cruelty hidden even now. “What do you want?”

You shake your head and wish you could turn away, flop against the mattress and writhe but you can’t. You just can’t give up this moment that’s etching itself into your retinas—like you’re staring head on at an eclipse, celestial and short-lived.

“Tell me,” Hawks whispers, nipping at your thigh and working his fingers harder on you. “Whatever you want, you’ll get it.”

And maybe it’s the sudden heat of the room, or the little breeze from his wings spreading defensively to block you from view of his nonexistent audience—the outside world maybe? To keep you, this secret indulgence, hidden from their prying hands. Or quite possibly it’s just your own weakness at the feet of years and years of loving—because you do, you love him, it’s clear by now that’s what this is—this man whose name you don’t know and whose eyes never seem to leave you even when he’s gone.

Maybe you simply crack under the pressure of keeping this awful, looming silence for too long.

You feel your lips split at the seams and it all comes rushing out in a polluted flood—a stagnant river of secrets.

“Let me touch you,” you gasp and close your eyes then just so you won’t have to see that grin slip from his beautiful face. “Please Hawks, let me touch you. I can’t do it anymore, just—I need to kiss you, I need more.”

All this time he hadn’t let up on pulling pleasure from your skin, but he stops now, bringing your release to a screaming halt.

The quiet that follows—devoid of fast breaths and wet slapping—is suffocating.

You wish you regretted the outburst, the waste of years worth of work to keep him coming back.

But you don’t.

Of course you will in a minute, when he slips away and doesn’t return.

But now it just feels as though that boulder of secrecy has been lifted off your chest and you can finally take in lungfuls of sweet, unhindered night air.

It’s only after that dreadful minute has passed and there are still hands on you—buried in you—that you dare to open your eyes again.

Hawks is staring blankly, an expression you’ve never seen before, so stark from the usual quirk of his lips and tilt of his chin. Blank, but calculating. You can see the gears clanking as his thoughts rush a mile a minute, faster than he’d ever dream of soaring over the city skyline.

He blinks once, twice, then again and you can see the redness blooming at the corners as his eyes grow glassy between each flutter of lashes. And then, as though moving through honey, he draws back from you, only to crawl up your body until your noses touch.

You hold your breath, lip caught between your teeth, but his slicked thumb comes up to pull it out of your gnawing reach. He strokes across the puffy skin, never meeting your gaze, until he slowly, slowly leans down.

It’s not really a kiss, more of an accidental brush, so little of your lips touch you could easily have imagined it. When he speaks again, you can feel him forming the words against you.

“I—” he starts and licks his lips and yours and you don’t think it’s an accident, “I can’t.”

It isn’t what you want him to say, but it’s better than a silent loss .

You know truth when you hear it.

“I know.”

And you do, you do know, you’ve always known. He’s darker when he’s not with you. You’ve seen the carnage he leaves behind broadcasted on screens, but it’s never stopped the ache before.

He can’t keep you the way you want, can’t have things that get in the way.

You can only touch him when he’s dying. You can heal him, reform his flesh and bone—pull him back from the brink—but you’ll never feel his chest against yours or his hair slipping through your fingers or have all of him buried inside you. He’ll never love you like you want him to.

It doesn’t stop you from wishing.

And apparently, it doesn’t stop Hawks from kissing you anyway.

“I can’t,” he repeats and it sounds so broken you almost think that wound has reopened and he’s going to start slipping away again.

But the only thing that slips is his tongue past your lips and tangling with your own.

And then the levee breaks.

It’s a sudden torrent of hands and legs knotting together like the torn edges of too many injuries. Hawks covers every available part of you like an addict seeking his fix. It’s breathless and uncoordinated but you’ve never felt more alive, alight, aflame.

He presses his lips to yours again, pulling away and then diving back in. Frantic hands pull you off the mattress until your back is against the headboard and he’s straddling your lap. You take the opportunity to sink your fingers into that goldenrod hair and it’s just as silky as you’d imagined it to be.

Hawks moans into your mouth, kissing you wildly, like the beast he is with teeth clacking and your tongue sucked between his lips.

“I can’t,” he keeps mumbling, between groans and hips grinding and hands grabbing, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t— “

You wonder then which one of you he’s trying to convince.

But you don’t ask, just let your hands wander to the delicious curve of his ass on your thighs and squeeze, rolling his bulge against you. His fingers push and proud, ghosting across your chest and stopping to pinch your nipple. He drinks down the whimpers you let out, letting his lips wander your jaw and throat, sucking bruises—leaving his own scars on you—as he goes. He pushes you back down to the pillows so his lips can continue their work, latching onto the quickly hardening bud and suckling lightly. His groan sends little shockwaves through you and he looks up with brows furrowed like he’s in pain with how good it all feels.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s so soft you barely hear it between licks at your chest.

“No,” you finally find it in you to respond, shaking your head and pulling him back to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says again while you nip at his earlobe and down his jaw, tight pants yielding under your hands as they’re tugged away so he’s just as bare as you.

“No,” you shake your head and any response dies on his tongue as you dig your fingers into the feathers at the base of his wings and pull him forward.

Hawks lets out a choked gasp as his length, bare, hard, and leaking glides across your cunt. Any other time, you’d have liked to savor this moment. Get on your knees and worship his pretty cock—and you know it's pretty, just from your short glimpse. He’s long and perfectly thick, just how you dreamed he would be. The cute tuft of blond curls at his base is course in the best way as you trail your fingers through it to take him in your palm.

“Ahh,” he keens, arching above you with his head thrown back as you stroke him for the first time.

It’s been so long, you're not sure how you ever resisted this before. Not with how heavy and warm he is in your fist.

“Hawks,” you moan, sucking at the dip in his collarbone and moving to bite at his nipple. “Hawks, please.”

“I—” you think he might protest but you flick your thumb over the tip and it pours precum to help the slide of your fingers.

He’s already got those powerful arms hooked under your knees, all he has to do is lean forward and sink into that tight, awaiting heat, and he knows it. You can see the resolve cracking.

“Hawks,” you beg again. Because you are begging, that’s what this is.

And he looks at you, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and brows all bunched up with his head shaking.

“Hawks.”

His hands grip the underside of your thighs and knock your hand from his dick.

“Hawks.”

His forehead comes down to rest against yours, eyes squeezed shut and red at the edges. You feel the sting at the corners as if they were your own.

“Hawks.”

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

Is he dying now?

Are you killing him?

“Hawks.”

His breath hitches, whatever he might have said is long gone when the head of his cock catches against your entrance.

“Hawks—”

He sinks in to the hilt all at once and the last utterance of his name is a yelp. Your walls clamp down hard around the intrusion, so much bigger than his fingers, so hot and long and thick as he pulses inside you.

There are no words after that.

No names, no refusals, just his face pressed up on yours as he pushes your thighs to your chest and rolls his hips, fucking you evenly into the mattress.

Not soft or slow or overly rough.

Though it is all of those things at once as well.

Hawks has always been full of contradictions. It makes sense that this is too.

Both your eyes stay open, lips brushing and sharing breath as he slips a hand back down to your clit and starts those perfect circles up again.

He doesn’t ask you questions now. Just stares in your eyes and sinks his cock into your over and over until you feel fuller, more complete than you ever have in the whole of your life.

There’s no warning leading up to the end. You feel the crest approaching, the coil waiting to snap low in your belly and you don’t dare take your eyes off his face. You need to commit the entirety of this moment to memory. Just in case.

Just in case it never happens again.

Or worse, it happens over and over until it doesn’t.

Until you run out of chances to touch him.

Until he comes to you too far gone.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters and that’s all the warning you get.

All the warning you have the strength to listen to as you tumble over the edge, waves of rolling pleasure burning under your skin. You clench hard around his cock as his hips stutter in their pace, thrusting unevenly as you gush and he spills rope after rope of hot release deep into you.

And you’d been wrong before, because this was full. This was whole, your stilling bodies pressed together at every point with his cock still hard and twitching as your walls milked him of cum that warmed you from the inside out.

This is what you would die for.

***

Later when you stumble into unwilling wakefulness, there are hands tucking a thin sheet over your bare skin.

Hawks has pulled himself from you after resting like you’d told him he should. He’s dressing, though not hurriedly, and you can’t find it in your jelly bones to move or stop him.

You’re both silent, even when he looks down to find your eyes alert and raking over him—costume donned and wings prepared for flight.

His face is drawn in a way that might have been resentment. Maybe towards you for breaking his resolve, maybe at himself for indulging in what he cannot have.

I can’t.

You hear the words as clear as though he’d just said them.

I can’t.

Can’t have you. Can’t forget his purpose. Can’t have gentle things.

Hawks is a villain, first and foremost, above all else and that includes you.

So you don’t move to stop him as he walks softly through your door. You just watch as he makes his way to the open window and perches on the ledge. He does look back, only briefly, to see you draped across the sheets, head resting on your arm and staring at him as he leaves you.

The ghost of that cheeky grin crawls its way onto his face before he tips backwards off the landing and into the night sky. He winks once before the indigo of the night swallows him like the maw of a leviathan. The city has teeth and it will chew him up and spit him back out into your arms soon enough.

So you’re content to wait.

You know this isn’t the last time. That he’ll come back to you as he’s always done. And offer you more and more of himself each time.

Because you can only touch him when he’s dying.

And this world is nothing if not determined to kill him.

So you can keep your purpose.

And by extension, you can keep him.

#hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x reader #villain!au #bnha fanfiction #tw blood #tw dubcon #hawks angst #hawks smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bee.writes

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