#what’s the point of having ideas if you can’t execute them

[crowdusk]

me, having never finished a fic in my life:

also me: wait i have a complex worldbuilding zosan fantasy au idea……..

[teeskzagain]

Anonymous asked:

so i’ve been thinking about how people think san’s a bit scary and intimidating while he’s an absolute sweetheart on the inside. imagine dating him and everyone around you being a bit intimidated by him, thinking he’s a rough guy and even being slightly worried…

what they don’t know is that you have him wrapped around your finger, that he’d worship the floor you walk on and that he’d simply do everything just to see you smile.

i wonder how this would translate into situations in the bedroom 🙂‍↔️

also!! i hope you get account back soon 💗

no because let’s talk about it!! the duality of choi san is actually INSANE (like his twink era??) mans could go from radiating dom energy out in public but once those doors close??? oh he would be ON HIS KNEES FOR YOU 🙌 whew, i’m in lofe with this scenario

and thank you for that, you’re too sweet🤍

wc: 3k

warnings: face riding, neck kissing, praises, dry humping (san cumming in his underwear) a shit ton of dirty talk, use of nicknames: baby, sweetie, sannie, 18+ MDNI

~

~

~

~

starting now, you make the executive decision that absolutely no one is meant to truly understand the relationship between you and your boyfriend, choi san. this is proven true at the formal get together you and him were currently attending, with your two friends making him a topic of conversation on numerous occasions.

like, at this moment.

“just look at him,” yena gawks from across the room, cup swirling in her hand, “i don’t know how you even had the balls to go up to him…”

“let alone date him.” suiji finishes as she eyes your boyfriend up and down. he’s currently standing stoically in the corner, chatting up the birthday boy, kang yeosang. your lips curl fondly at the interaction, knowing well just how excited san was about seeing yeosang this evening.

you allow their little comments to resonate in the air before giving your two friends a look and then a soft laugh, “how come you guys say this every time we go out?”

“because it’s still insane!” yena throws an arm out as if to prove her disbelief, “how can you not just shrink under his gaze?”

suiji does a dramatic shudder at the remnants of his presence, “i’m serious y/n, he’s so scary looking.”

“there’s no problems with the relationship, right? anything i need to know? are you feeling safe?” yena’s rapid fire of questions and sudden concern makes you want to roll your eyes straight out of their sockets.

it’s been four months of dating san at this point, and one would have thought that the acceptance stage surely should’ve passed by now. however, for some reason, these two just can’t fathom the idea that choi san is ‘datable’. actually. it’s not just them, but the general public appears to fear san like some sort of bad omen. from the barista at your local coffee shop, to your favorite cashier at the grocery store; somehow, this negative stigma seemed to have developed around your poor, clueless boyfriend.

they should all be ashamed of themselves, you think with a frown, almost about ready to scold the girls when the tall, broad man himself waltzes straight into your circle. the way yena and suiji immediately clasps their lips shut at his entrance, you want to laugh, but quickly are captivated by your boyfriend who’s stopping right in front of you.

“baby…” his voice starts off somber and low, and he regards you with an expression that’s seemingly all too familiar, “it’s time to go.”

hmm? instinctively, your head tilts slightly as you sport confusion, “already? but, weren’t you just talking with-”

“y/n. let’s go.” he’s firmer in his tone, a hard face planted on. you blink before giving him an understanding head nod. you understood quite well what his authoritative stature indicated, essentially making it pointless to argue back with him.

when san whips around towards the girls, ready to begin your goodbyes, they seemed to have crowded together out of fright. the slender, narrow eyes that have proven to instill fear glower onto yena and suiji and you’re almost positive you see one of them trembling. oh, please.

“i’m sorry to cut the pleasantries so short, but it’s getting late for us. we’ll see you around though?” he quips off the question with an eyebrow raise, and by now you’ve huddled closer to him.

yena could only stumble out, “y-yeah, see ya later.” while suiji waved him away frantically, both trying their damndest to avoid eye contact with him.

he takes off while you offer your own smile and a curt wave. and even as you happily catch up behind the brooding man, your two friends are still left puzzled as to what exactly it is you see in him. both you and san make a few more rounds of goodbyes, some of the guests sharing their own inquisitive gaze at the impassive male in comparison to your gleeful smile. but neither of you paid attention to that.

no, the only thing present in the two of you’s minds was the anticipation of what was going to happen later tonight. like for when you step foot into your apartment approximately 10 minutes later, his eyes glossy as they tediously watch you, with yours trailing the outline of his delicious outfit.

the car ride over had been filled to the brim with unspoken thoughts, asses shifting and squirming in their seats, and a swirl of low breaths emitted by you two. san’s never been one to demand control over the relationship, him hardly every seeing the need to command anything out of you. he’s always been perfectly contempt with you taking the reigns while he sits back and enjoys.

and you were well aware of that.

but in a moment like that, a circumstance where his head became heavily engrossed with conceptions of you, well, he couldn’t help if a more stern tone slipped out of him. he just had to get you to recognize what it was he was yearning for. what it is he needs from you.

“sannie..” your head’s tilted down so you can peer up at him through your eyelashes, making a slow trek towards him as he stood idly in the living room, “are you in a mood?”

in a matter of seconds, you can physically see the changes your boyfriend has. his usual, cold face soon melting into an intense cry of plea. of course you knew the answer. you can read him like book by now.

you stop in front of his body, a hand pressing into his chest while the other raises to graze the side of his face, “oh, you poor thing. i know it must’ve been difficult at the party for you.”

as if you’re a magnet, once you let up on san, your hand dropping to his arm, his head shoots down into the exposed part of your neck. he’s feverish in the way he immediately starts to kiss on your skin, with in between pecks he starts to speak.

“fu-uck…,” he lands a rather large kiss smack dab in the middle of your throat which leads you to buzz out a soft whimper, “i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

he travels around your sternum, making sure to mark up any unclaimed spots, “couldn’t stop picturing you…” he nips at your skin this time, “us getting home tonight and me making you cum so fucking hard.”

your eyes are fluttering from a combo of both his words and his lips, your hands moving on their own to explore the brawniness that is choi san, “yeah…is that right?”

he lets out a strained groan as he begins to work his way down to your cleavage, “ah- my cock’s throbbing so bad right now.” the words topple from his lips an octave higher than you’re used to, and it’s clear just how turned on he is. which in turn makes your own panties dampen at the realization.

“sannie…” you gasp, feeling his mouth trailing down the fabric of your dress with some of his spit sopping through, “you know- you have to please me first. me first, then i’ll take of you, sweetie.”

he’s on his knees for you by now, staring up at you with the biggest doe eyes you’ve ever seen on a man. your head droops to meet his gaze right as his hands grip the hem of your dress. he lifts it up past your hips, revealing your cotton underwear which sports a wet spot clear as day.

“i know. i know, baby. i’m gonna make you feel so good. don’t you worry.” he ducks his head in between your thighs in preparation for licking your pussy through the soft material, a motion he does in a clean swoop. it only amplifies the extreme sensation you’re experiencing, “you won’t have a single thought in your head when i’m done.”

your body stirrers at the contact, “oh! oh my god.”

san is absolutely in love with your reactions, watching and hearing how horny you are because of him. it fuels him. he repeats his licking action, this time stopping at the top of your cunt to suck on your sensitive bud. you register his saliva permeating through your underwear, a squelching sound now filling the air, and your face contorts.

“mmm, sannie i’m gonna ride your face,” your eyes are crinkled, no longer able to hold his eye contact, as involuntarily your hips buck against his head, “fuck. just wanna grind my pussy deep into your perfect face.”

he squeezes his lips around your skin. it doesn’t even matter to him how your harsh rocks causes his face to rock along side with you. he’s ravenous. hungry for you. eating you out like he’s been deprived of your sweet cunt for days.

after a low rumble, san guides a hand to your clothed sex and pushes away the fabric. swirling, lapping, fiending into your naked core, you’re hit with double the intensity than you had previously, and you nearly squeal. he circles his head all around your thick pussy, wanting to bury his face deeper into your skin, which makes your eyes roll back.

the direct stimulant makes you see stars, him taking in pieces of you within his mouth and supplying a great deal of pleasure to those areas. your own moans fight for dominance while san’s squishy munching competes for which noise is the loudest, yours gradually getting louder and higher the more he devours you.

“i feel close,” it comes out more breathlike as you interlock your fingers into his hair for balance, “fuck- fuck- i think i’m gonna cum soon.”

with that, san offers no mercy. he wants to see you cum, needs to feel your orgasm hit his face. he quickens his pace with his wet tongue, before moving into more swift and timely sucks. the mixture of stimulants has your eyelids glazing, and it doesn’t help how occasionally san would mewl straight into you. he finds this so incredibly arousing.

you dig your hips further into his nose, you full on grinding against him by now, and you can’t even think straight. everything is pushing you closer and closer and closer-

“shit! i’m cumming! i’m cumming!” when your boyfriend nicks that spot, that spot with his driven hunger solely focused on it, your orgasm rushes through your body and out of your cunt, you yelping aloud in the process. it spritzes and coats san in a spit/cum mix, his face becoming sickly wet as you draw out your blissful high.

not once does he move to detach himself. he eats you out all during the duration of your orgasm, and when you finally have the strength to look at san again, you see his large, puppy-esque eyes just entranced with you. he watched you cum all over his face, just like he wished to before.

at the end of it, your chest heaves up and down as you attempt a small smile for him. aside from the minor spasms, you had gained some sense of awareness again.

“i’m so proud of you. you made me feel good, just like you promised.” you speak with nothing but gratitude, your hand easing up the grip in san’s hair as you transfer it into a light stroke, “you ready to be taken care of now?”

he parts your cunt with spit strings attached, his lips and face utterly covered in your moisture. he looks about ready to combust on himself, the way his eyes are hazy and low, his breathing irregular, “i’m ready. need a release so bad, i can’t take it anymore.”

sweetly, you reach down to help him up, “i hear you. come on, let’s go to the room.”

you lead the way as he follows you back into the bedroom, you instantly ordering him to strip from his pants once inside, “since you did a such a great job, i wanna treat you to something.”

a look of relief washes over san’s face. while still in his underwear, you direct him towards the head of the bed frame as you hook your fingers on the band of your panties to slide them down and off your legs. you meet him on to the bed, and right off of the bat, you can see a noticeably large bulge, poking out the material of his dark blue briefs.

if someone were to mistaken the expanding wet spot as san just having came on himself, you wouldn’t be surprised. but your boyfriend produces large amounts of arousal on the regular, so this is nothing new for you. if anything, you can start to feel yourself get horny all over again.

when directly in front of him, you bring one knee over so you’re straddling him, your pelvis just barely hovering over his lap, “just sit back for me, okay?” you eye him sincerely, “im gonna take care of you.”

right as you start to lower yourself on to his covered length, a sharp inhale from san has you pausing briefly, “baby, i don’t know how long i’ll be able to last. feel like i’m gonna explode any second.”

with a tiny laugh, you continue downwards till you make contact with your core and his cock, “it’s okay. don’t want you holding back either, i want you to enjoy this.”

and just like that, you allow your cunt to spread flatly against his erection, then ever-so leisurely, you start to roll your hips. you purposely begin with a slow pace, wanting to build up the intensity as time progressed, and judging by the facial expressions he wears, this seems to do the trick for him as well. even through the sensitivity, you push through.

“i knew you’d like me rubbing myself against you,” your hand clashes with the headboard as you steady yourself, digging your core deeper into the hard surface, “you liked it when i grinded on your face, i just had to give your poor cock the same treatment.”

inaudible moans fall from san’s throat, him now throwing his head back on the board, “sh-shit. it feels so nice, too nice.”

“i can feel you twitching below me,” you hip, your eyes becoming more hooded by the second, “are you really that close to finishing?”

“nrgh- yes.” he groans and you can see his stomach begin to convulse, his panting growing more prominent within your ear.

at this prospect, you dish out a hushed mew yourself, fastening the thrusts into his own clothed sex. your pussy acts as a stimulant for san, sending blips of pleasure through his aching dick the more you continue your rubbing.

you make sure to work every section of his length, running and dragging your glistening pussy lips against his wet fabric. you’ve suctioned yourself so far into him, that right now, you can distinguish which is his base and which is the head of cock. your cunt does a slightly bump whenever you find yourself running against the tip.

it’s euphoric the pleasure he’s having right now. never having been this turned on before, he basks in the feeling brought upon by you. how you know just when to squeeze the right amount of pressure onto him, or when to simply grind faster and harder on to the cock that won’t make it for much longer.

leading you to a point of where you’re full blown humping san into oblivion. the creaky noises of the bed acts as evidence of your hard work, along with the not-so-subtle whimpers that he buzzes out every chance he gets. he’s lost in heaven.

“you’re gonna make me cum on myself,” he follows that up with a louder groan, “fucking- i’m so close to cumming, ’m so close.” he even tries to match your rhythm but even that prove to be difficult with just how mindless you’re about to leave him.

“let it all out, sannie. come on, i know you’re almost there.” you reply back with an equal amount of desperation in your voice.

a string of ‘please’ leaves his mouth, his eyebrows scrunched inward with his troubled face. he’s so far gone, he isn’t sure that he’ll even survive the orgasm he’s about to have. when you buck particularly hard into his sensitive head, a wave of pleasure hits him and his cock relinquishes his stored up cum.

“hmm, y/n- i’m cumming!” a guttural moan overtakes the room as san releases all over himself, and you, his underwear now soiled to a point of no return. his cum leaks through and even form to mix with your previous liquids. it awakens something within you and soon the feeling of his orgasm is causing a surprise one for yourself, your eyes vibrating and a whiny shriek spilling out.

you quiver harshly on top of your boyfriend as his body twitches sporadically, the two of you somewhat finishing in sync. a few spurts of your juices seep down into his briefs, vice versa for you, and then next thing you know you’re both catching your breaths after the intense session.

“you’re so fucking hot.” he murmurs, eyes dazed and throat bobbing, “left me soaking in my underwear.”

“i love you,” you whisper back as your bring your forehead to his, still relishing from your second orgasm tonight, “you’re so good for me.”

“i love you too, baby.”

see, many question what it is about your boyfriend that you love so much. in their eyes, he’s nothing more than a fearsome man, threatening the innocence of a poor, girl like you.

but if there’s one thing you could never deny, was that your (in reality) sweet, puppy of a boyfriend knows just how to give you the actual best orgasms of your life. and luckily for him, you know how to give it right back to him.

your guys’ relationship is perfect as is. regardless if others can fully comprehend it or not.

[starboyshoyo]

Courting, Pining, or Flirting? 

Characters: All NRC students x reader (seperately)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland 

Genre: fluff

Do the NRC boys court you, pine for you, or flirt with you? 

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle Rosehearts will do his best in courting you. Raised to be strict and formal, he has virtually no idea of what love is, or how to express it. The best he got was the fairytales of princesses and knights in his childhood. So he’ll follow their lead to the best of his ability. Riddle will give you his blazer jacket, and take your arm in his when navigating crowded hallways- he’ll even bow to you when saying goodnight, placing a tender kiss on your hand. Riddle might need a bit of a confidence boost before he performs a moonlight soliloquy under your balcony, though. 

Ace Trappola, unsurprisingly, enjoys flirting with you. What can he say, he’s a fun-loving guy! That extends to all parts of his life, including you. When the two of you are watching movies on his laptop in Ramshackle Dorm, he’ll tug the blanket away, forcing you to cuddle up to him for warmth. One day in class, a crumpled paper ball will hit you on the shoulder, reading: DO YOU LIKE ME? YES/NO ;) It’s childish, but somehow endearing.

Deuce Spade, ever the gentleman, will try (keyword: try) his best in courting you. His mom didn’t raise a brat! Listening to her advice, he’ll buy you flowers, ask you out on the weekends, and drape his jacket over your shoulders when you get cold. It’s a lot less smooth than it sounds, though. He’ll be a blushing, stuttering mess the entire time and accidentally spill his plans to you before he can execute them. Then he’ll apologize and spill even more of his plans- and alas, the cycle continues. 

Trey Clover is surprisingly good at flirting! Trey is confident in his ability to charm people. Even the most uptight of Prefects tend to relax a little around him. Of course, the delicious handmade pastries he often brings along with him are just a bonus. They’re an easy way to strike up a conversation with you, getting you to spill more and more about yourself to him. He’s comfortable to talk to, isn’t he? Oh, is that baked good your favorite? Expect a box of them to show up on your desk within the next week, along with a coy little note: Sweets for the sweet. 

Cater Diamond, on the surface, is definitely into flirting. He chases anything and everything within a fifty-meter radius of himself, and giving his posts on Magicam so much as a comment will result in a Hey cutie ;) popping up in your DM notifications at 1 AM. But with a person that Cater truly loves, face to face, he won’t do anything more than stay by your side as a supportive friend, pining from afar. He’s afraid of messing this up. Do you even see him that way? Please say you do. 

SAVANACLAW

Leona Kingscholar does all three, in the order of pining, courting, and flirting. Hear me out: Leona pines, but not in a hopeless way. Instead, he just figures that he doesn’t have the time or emotional investment for a relationship. But once the feelings began to grow, Leona gets desperate. He doesn’t want opportunities to slip through his fingers without doing anything. So he’ll begin subtly hanging out with you more, until it reaches the courting stage. At that point, he becomes visibly softer and less harsh around you. He’ll only really be comfortable flirting and being playful with you once you’re in an established relationship, not before. 

Ruggie Bucchi is into casual flirting- Well, he’s into it until he realizes he’s fallen so hard that he can’t climb back out. It’s all fun and games to him at first. Oh, you want to pet his ears? Maybe trading that cookie of yours from the lunch buffet would be suitable collateral. You think he looks good in the PE uniform? There’s more where that came from. Want him to accompany you on a late-night errand? Of course! He loves spending time with you- Wait, when did that happen? 

Jack Howl follows his sharp instincts on everything, and every sign is pointing at him courting you like a true gentleman. He knows he’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got no problem cleaning his act up for you. Putting on a suit and tie and using a bit of gel in his hair and around his ears is a small price to pay for your affection. He’s not particularly shy about showing you he has feelings for you, but outright telling you might take a bit more time and effort.

OCTAVINELLE

Azul Ashengrotto is painfully, unequivocally deep in pining for you. There’s just no way around it is there? Oh, what he wouldn’t give to crawl into his tako pot and hide when you’re around. You’re on his mind every second of every day, and he lays in bed every night wondering if you see him the same way. Is he handsome to you? Is he smart? He wants to hold you so bad but he won’t do it until you tell him yes, I like you too, first.

Jade Leech, ever the calm, collected one, excels at smooth flirting. He just knows you like him as much as he likes you, and he’s not afraid to point it out. It’s not like you’re subtle about it either- with the way you sit in a corner booth of Mostro Lounge for hours, just to be able to talk with him after-hours over leftover pastries and tea. You wouldn’t mind if he did this with you more often, would you? 

Floyd Leech has his unique way of flirting, just like everything else in his life. You’re just so exciting, Shrimpy! Won’t you tell him a little more about your day? Even just the little things, like how many pages of notes you took in History of Magic class or an answer to a test question or two- he’s kidding, he’s kidding! All jokes aside, Floyd truly does enjoy your company and the ways you spice up his life. 

SCARABIA

Kalim Al-Asim does none of the three, surprisingly. He’s so bright it might not even occur to you that he’s interested until you’re already three layers deep. He’s always been a friendly person, so when he begins inviting you to hang out all the time, you wouldn’t give it a second thought. It’s only when you notice him trying to do things for you rather than just with you do you realize his feelings might run a little deeper than just friendship. He tries to be chivalrous, but it usually just comes off as him playing at being your prince charming. The closest you could get to describing what Kalim does is playful, friendly courting- albeit a very unconventional form of it. 

Jamil Viper is used to never getting what he wants. Somewhere along the line he stopped trying. So when you step into his life, shining but not blinding like Kalim, he hesitates. Is he ready to take such a risk? All he knows for sure is that he wants you in his life… someday. So quietly, in between classes and in the hallways, he’ll be pining for you from afar- hoping you’ll make the first move, so that he won’t have to worry about Kalim whisking you away.

POMEFIORE

Vil Schoenheit thinks he has never met someone so beautiful before. You might even be half as beautiful as he is! It’s a huge compliment coming from someone like him. You’re also half as smart, almost as strong, and maybe he’d consider taking you out for lunch- but don’t get it twisted! He’s doing this out of the goodness of his heart. (He likes you. He really likes you. Please date him.) It’s not very good flirting, but he’s trying his best.

Rook Hunt is flamboyant and genuine in everything he does, which includes flirting with you, his longtime crush. You have the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen! Would you mind if he admired it for a while? He’ll brag about you to everyone around him, much to the irritation of Vil, who finds it offensive that his biggest supporter has ‘betrayed’ him for another. Rook doesn’t care, though. If you so pleased, he’d be more than happy to walk you to your next class. Anything to bask in your unmatched beauty just a few seconds longer. 

Epel Felmier is good at flirting, and he’s confident about it too! A rough and tumble farm boy like him needs a cute thing on his arm to show off, doesn’t he? Don’t laugh at him- he’s trying to impress you. He’ll do anything he can to prove to you that he’s a strong, capable person and your perfect match. Let him carry your books, and serve you in the cafeteria buffet line. When you share a snack together, he’ll lean just a bit too close, letting his cheek brush against yours before pulling away. Come on, look him in the eyes! Or are you too shy~

IGNIHYDE

Idia Shroud has never met you in real life. You’ve never seen his face, but he’s seen yours through the camera of his tablet at housewarden meetings. Maybe it’s the pent up stress speaking, but wow, you’re way out of his league. Best to make casual conversation and repress his pining over a game of online chess, lest he screw it all up in real life. 

DIASOMNIA

Malleus Draconia is a lonely soul who knows little more than a life of isolation. When you walk into his life, unafraid of the twisted black crown that sits on his head or the ominous aura that seems to surround him, he has to wonder if after all these years he’s finally found his soulmate. Immediately, he wants to make plans to see you every day, to listen to you ramble about anything and everything beyond the briar walls around his castle. Stay a while and talk with him, won’t you? Malleus is the true definition of patience and indulgence when he’s courting you. 

Lilia Vanrouge isn’t one for mere high school relationships. He’s a father and a general! He’s got a teenager to raise and armies to lead, on top the infamously heavy homework load from NRC classes. You’d have to be really important to him to find a place in his ancient heart. Sure, he’ll have his fun with flirting and all, but no one can really expect a thousand-year old fae to fall in love… right?

Sebek Zigvolt is shocked, no pun intended. There’s no way a fae like himself has fallen for a mere human! No, he won’t accept it. Sebek will turn in somersaults and bend over backwards to make any excuse on why he is not in love with you, he’s just a bit agitated today! Ironically, he makes things harder for himself with this mindset, condemning himself to pining for you from afar. 

Silver, like his name, wants to be your knight in shining armor- he’s just not quite sure how to go about it yet. He supposes he’ll ask for your parents’ permission to begin courting you, first. That’s the tradition in the Valley of Thorns after all. But when Lilia points out that it’s a bit old-fashioned, he’ll simply agree and go along with whatever terrible plans the rest of Diasomnia comes up with next. Be prepared to be barraged with an awful yet endearing mix of pick-up lines, cheesy love letters, and classic romance songs that this quartet comes up with in their free time. The best thing? Silver himself won’t even be awake for half of it. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[ozzgin]

I've kept my promise and returned with dino smut. Switch it to a dinosaur hybrid if you're too afraid of the full package. Content: gender neutral reader, NSFW (gangbang), monster dinosaur smut

"You've got to be kidding me."

You kick the wheel and walk away, trying to steady your breathing. This can’t be happening. Behind you, the guide continues to tinker with the car engine. He has a reassuring smile plastered on his face, but you can tell from the cold beads of sweat that he’s just as terrified.

You are stranded in a desert filled with dinosaurs. Scientific miracle? Sure. Presently your death sentence, too.

“Don’t walk too far from the vehicle, (Y/N), otherwise I can’t reach you in time if something happens.”

“What, you have a black belt in dinosaur fighting or something?” you scoff at the man.

“Now listen, do you think we didn’t anticipate these scenarios? I am equipped with this little guy here”, he says, pulling out a small, electric device. “Has enough juice in it to shock a T-Rex.”

Maybe he has a point. The Jurassic Park proudly dons a reputation of flawless service and guaranteed safety. Surely they must be equipped to deal with something as insignificant as a car breaking down in the middle of a guided tour.

You attempt to smile back, gathering some courage. In your newfound peace you didn’t really notice that the massive rock behind the car has moved, or that it was never a rock to begin with.

A wide row of razor teeth engulfs your official tour guide, and the enormous mandible closes with a loud snap. The upper half of the man detaches in a surreal, surgical cleanliness. You stare, mouth agape. It takes you a second to process the execution you’ve just witnessed, but the ear-shattering screech swiftly wakes you out of your trance.

Escaping from an entire pack of ancient predators feels rather futile, but that doesn't stop you from crawling up the steep hill, hoping the damned creatures can't follow. Had you known your comfortable car ride required survival skills, you would've worn a different pair of pants.

What's even more ridiculous is the nature of your perpetrator. Of course, you tell yourself, you had to trust a company that can't differentiate between the Cretaceous and the Jurassic. What's one or two million years? What's one or two dead humans in the grand statistics of their park?

You finally reach the top of the hill, and trip over some overgrown roots. Your collapse is cushioned by the scarce bushes patching the ground. Suddenly, you feel the branches vibrating against your burnt cheeks. Dear Lord, futile indeed. The heavy, bulky legs of the Carnotaurus approach you in a chaotic trample, nonchalantly stepping over your last bits of hope.

Knees scraping against the rocks, you close your eyes and shield your face, bent over like some beggar awaiting punishment. You're petrified. Did the guide feel anything when his innards stretched and tore under the unforgiving mouth?

The rough, scaly skin of the monster brushes against the back of your thighs. There it is! Flesh coming undone, bones giving in to the...wait. What are they doing, exactly? You subtly tilt your head, trying to catch a glimpse of the strange event.

It seems that your resigned position has given them different ideas. The horned beasts investigate your scent with peculiar interest. A brief altercation ensues, in which they lock their horns together and their tails swing around threateningly, nearly crushing you in their blind aggression. You cry out and try to distance yourself from the thundering scene, but a clawed foot pins you back into the ground.

You suspect your present captor is the winner of the conflict, standing above you triumphantly as the others wait aside. Is this the part where you become a grand meal? Its enormous teeth graze your clothing, and the threads come undone.

In a most unexpected turn of events, it's you who ends up stuffed. You don't know what pain to focus on: your back hurts from the rhythmic swaying, bare skin grating against the parched earth; your privacy is burning from the sudden, invasive stretch, as the creature buries itself deeper with each hungry pound.

Eventually, a familiar knot begins to form in the pit of your stomach. The thrusts become smoother, your legs weaker. Shameless moans begin to roll out of your drooling mouth, and you hold onto the Carnotaurus' rugged hips. Its mouth is slightly open, panting and groaning, blowing hot air against your already feverish body.

Your own high is interrupted by a thick, hot wave of fluid abruptly crashing against your inner walls. The beast detaches itself from you, leaving you heaving, dripping and sighing in disappointment. The least you could've gotten from this erotic absurdity was a decent orgasm.

Your naked body is suddenly shrouded in shadow. You look up to see a different member of the pack positioning itself between your legs. Glancing at the others, a horrifying, perverted thought occurs to you: they're taking turns, fucking you relentlessly.

Perhaps you will get your chance, after all. Or multiple.

[brunchable]

POV: You're sucked into your Fanfic - Part Two

《 The plot goes off the rails. 》

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Writer!fReader

Themes: Comedy - Chaotic Duo (mainly y/n), breaking 4th wall. Fanfic Bucky meets his writer.

Summary: Y/N, now fully aware she’s in her fanfic, tries to navigate the villain’s role but is terrible at it. Y/N tries to sabotage one of the villain’s main plans but accidentally makes things worse.

A/N: Y/N is just a clown at this point LMAO.

tags: @winterslove1917 @zeeader @iamdedsthingz @hzdhrtss @almosttoopizza

@yiiiikesmish

You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re in your own fanfic, but now comes the hard part: pretending to be the villain you wrote, a role you’re quickly realizing you’re terrible at.

“I can do this,” you mutter to yourself as you pace around your lair—or, well, the lair you wrote. “I wrote the villain. I know how to be evil... right?”

The words sound hollow even to your own ears, but you try to psych yourself up. After all, you can’t be that bad at playing the character you created... right?

Wrong.

You freeze at a loud thud echoing through the room. Oh no. That’s probably Bucky—or maybe the rest of the Avengers—coming to crash this part of the story. You know what comes next: an epic confrontation, full of dramatic one-liners and battle-ready glares. A perfect opportunity for your villain character to show off her menacing charm.

Only problem? You’re about as menacing as a kitten wearing a cape.

You glance toward the entrance, heart racing. Okay, play it cool, you can pull this off.

But deep down, you’re still reeling from the last time you faced Bucky. You were supposed to be locked in a super high-tech Avengers prison, right? Yeah. That lasted a grand total of two hours, mostly because your minions—and you use the term very loosely—broke you out.

To be fair, you didn’t even know you had minions. You didn’t exactly plan for that when you wrote the story. But, apparently, your villain character does. And when they broke you out, it was less like a well-executed heist and more like a disorganized clown car unloading directly into a high-security facility.

Imagine the worst rescue you can think of. Now multiply it by ten, add three explosions that were definitely not supposed to happen, and you have a vague idea of how badly it went. There were henchmen tripping over each other, one of them got stuck in the ventilation shaft, and another one kept calling you "Supreme Evil Leader," which felt flattering but... also very awkward.

To make matters worse, Bucky—looking all intense and broody, because of course he does—caught up with you right as you were awkwardly sliding into the escape vehicle, and the confrontation? Oh, it was a mess. 

You tried to give him a villainous speech about how “this isn’t over,” but it came out more like, “I’m... uh... not done here! Watch out!”

Then one of your minions set off a smoke bomb before anyone was ready, and you tripped over your own feet trying to make a dramatic exit. Classic villain move? Not quite. You barely made it out without face-planting.

So yeah. That’s where you’re at. This is round two, and you’re really hoping to do better this time.

Another thud echoes through the room. You swallow hard.

Okay, no more bumbling. This time, I’m going to deliver the villainous performance of a lifetime. 

You scramble to the center of the room and try to remember what your villainous character would say. You did write this scene, after all. It’s just... harder to do it when you’re living it. Especially when you know Bucky is about to walk in, all brooding and muscle-y.

Maybe if I just stand here and look mysterious? That’s evil, right? Just stare into the distance like I’m plotting something dark.

As the door bursts open and Bucky strides in, guns blazing (literally, because of course he’s carrying), you raise a hand, attempting to look menacing. “Aha! Bucky Barnes... we meet again!”

He pauses mid-step, raising an eyebrow. “You’re... dramatic.”

Damn it! Why did I write such terrible dialogue?

You cringe internally, but you push on. “Yes, well... I’m a villain. That’s what we do, right? Be dramatic?”

He’s not buying it. “Is this supposed to scare me?” His tone is flat, his expression unreadable.

You fumble for a comeback. “I—I mean, of course! You should be terrified of my... evil...ness.” You gesture vaguely around the lair, hoping it looks more intimidating than it feels.

Bucky takes another step forward, his metal arm gleaming under the dim lighting. “You don’t seem very sure of yourself.”

Great.

“I’m very sure!” you snap, but even you don’t believe yourself. You can feel your composure slipping. This is not how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to deliver a chilling monologue and strike fear into the heart of your enemies.

Instead, all you can think about is how Bucky’s muscles look even better in person.

Focus! You’re supposed to be evil! Stop mentally cataloging his biceps!

Bucky crosses his arms, clearly waiting for you to say something intimidating, but your brain is short-circuiting. 

“Look,” you start, hoping to salvage the situation, “maybe we could just... skip the whole fighting thing? We’re all tired, right? How about we just, I don’t know, chat?”

He blinks, clearly confused. “Chat?”

“Yeah!” you nod enthusiastically, jumping on this new plan. “You know, talk it out. No need for violence. I’m sure we can... negotiate.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “You’re stalling again.”

“Stalling? Me? No way!” You laugh nervously. “Okay, fine, maybe a little. But in my defense, I wasn’t expecting you to look this... uh, intense.”

He steps closer, clearly not amused. “You’re the worst villain I’ve ever met.”

“How many times are you going to say that?,” you groan, throwing your hands up. “I didn’t ask for this! Well, technically I did because I wrote it, but now that I’m living it, it’s way harder than it seemed when I was typing it up, okay?”

Bucky stares at you, utterly confused, as you ramble. “You wrote what?”

“Never mind,” you mutter, waving him off. “The point is, being evil is exhausting, and I’m not cut out for it.”

Bucky looks at you like you’ve lost your mind—which, honestly, you probably have at this point. You’re clearly not doing a great job of selling the “evil mastermind” role.

“Okay,” you say, standing up straighter, trying one last time to get back into character. “You know what? Let’s forget all that. Let’s just get back on track, okay?”

You strike a dramatic pose, trying to regain some villainous dignity. “Behold, Bucky Barnes, for you will never escape my clutches! Mwahaha—”

Before you can even finish your half-hearted evil laugh, the ground beneath you starts shaking. You freeze.

“Oh no,” you whisper, realizing that you’ve accidentally triggered the next phase of your villain’s grand plan—which you totally forgot about.

The lair begins transforming around you, mechanical arms lowering from the ceiling, hidden weapons emerging from the walls. 

What did I even write here? You try to remember, but it’s been too long, and you wrote so many twists and turns into this plot.

Bucky raises an eyebrow as the chaos unfolds. “This part of the plan?”

You wince. “Uh... yes? I mean, obviously.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You don’t even know what’s happening, do you?”

“Not... exactly,” you admit sheepishly. “It’s been a while since I wrote this, okay? But look, I’m sure it’ll all work out in my favor.”

Just then, a panel on the wall opens up, revealing a countdown timer with large, glowing red numbers. Your heart sinks. Oh no. Not the countdown!

Bucky notices the timer and shoots you a look. “What happens when that hits zero?”

You scratch the back of your neck. “Um, you’re not gonna like this, but... I think it triggers some sort of self-destruct sequence? Maybe. I’m not entirely sure.”

Bucky glares at you. “You think?”

“Look, I was going for high stakes when I wrote it, okay? I didn’t expect to actually be here!” you blurt out, throwing your hands up.

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re a disaster.”

“I know! But it’s not my fault! Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep your villain persona together when you’re staring at all this?” You gesture to him dramatically, feeling flustered. “You’re like... ripped.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by your sudden compliment. “Excuse me?”

“I said what I said!” you huff. “You’re ripped, and it’s distracting, okay?”

He shakes his head, still looking at you like you’re crazy. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told that before,” you reply with a grin, trying to distract him while you figure out what to do next. “But seriously, can we stop the countdown? Because I really don’t want to blow up right now.”

Bucky takes a step forward, eyes narrowing. “Then stop playing around and fix this.”

You fumble for the control panel, desperately pressing buttons at random. The countdown speeds up, and you wince. 

“Oh no, I think I made it worse.”

Bucky grabs your wrist, yanking you away from the panel. “Stop touching things if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“YOU TOLD ME TO FIX THIS!” you protest, but Bucky’s death glare shuts you up immediately. You shrink back, feeling the weight of his grip on your wrist as he pulls you away from the panel.

“You’re making it worse,” he growls, letting go of you. “Just… stand there and do nothing.”

You cross your arms, pouting. “Not my fault this whole thing’s a dumpster fire. I wrote it, but I didn’t think I’d have to live it.”

Bucky ignores your muttering as he works on the control panel, trying to figure out how to disable the countdown. You watch him for a moment, eyes trailing over his arms as they flex with every movement.

Focus, Y/N. Now’s not the time for ogling. Well… maybe just a little ogling.

"How are you so calm during all this?” you ask, hoping to break the tension—and maybe sneak in a little more flirting. “I mean, you’re literally disarming a self-destruct sequence with those gorgeous, dangerous hands of yours. It’s honestly distracting.”

Bucky doesn’t even look up, but you swear you see a flicker of a smirk. “You’re the one who set this off in the first place. Shouldn’t you be handling it?”

“Look, if you weren’t here being all Captain Broody and Muscles McGee, maybe I could think straight,” you snap back. “I can’t be held responsible for the chaos you create just by standing there.”

He finally glances at you, eyebrow raised. “You’re blaming me?”

“Well, yeah!” you say, gesturing wildly. “I was trying to be a villain, but have you seen yourself? How am I supposed to be evil when you look like you just stepped out of a superhero calendar?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, turning back to the control panel, but you catch a flicker of amusement in his expression. You might be bad at villainy, but at least you’re good at throwing him off.

You lean back against the wall, pretending to be casual as your heart pounds in your chest. “So... once we stop the countdown and we’re not blown to smithereens, what do you say we grab a drink? You know, to celebrate not dying.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Bucky mutters, still focused on the panel.

“I’ll stop talking when you stop being hot,” you fire back without missing a beat.

Bucky finally stops what he’s doing and looks at you, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Are you flirting with me right now? While we’re about to blow up?”

You give him a sheepish grin. “Hey, if we’re going down, might as well go out swinging. Or... flirting.”

“Unbelievable,” Bucky mutters under his breath before turning back to the countdown. With one final movement, he manages to disable the timer, and the red numbers blink out.

You let out a long breath, slumping in relief. “Okay, so maybe I didn’t entirely screw things up.”

Bucky stands up straight, glaring at you with his arms crossed. “You almost killed us.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t,” you say, flashing him a grin. “So technically, I saved us. You’re welcome.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I prefer ‘charmingly chaotic,’” you reply with a wink. “But sure, impossible works too.”

Bucky shakes his head, clearly exasperated. “You’re lucky you didn’t blow up your own lair.”

“See? Lucky. I’m like a walking good luck charm,” you say, giving him a playful nudge. “So, about that drink—”

“Not happening,” he interrupts, cutting you off.

You sigh dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

Bucky steps closer, leaning in so his face is just inches from yours. For a split second, you think he might actually be considering it. But then he says, “You still owe me for almost killing us. Get moving before I change my mind.”

You blink up at him, trying to ignore how flustered you feel. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be a hero, you’re awfully grumpy.”

“And for someone who’s supposed to be a villain, you’re terrible at it,” he shoots back.

You can’t help but grin. “Fair point. But hey, I never said I was good at being bad. I’m more of a... chaotic neutral.”

Bucky shakes his head again and walks toward the door, clearly done with the conversation. “Let’s go. And try not to trigger another self-destruct sequence.”

Before you can even muster a comeback—probably something sarcastic about how it’s hard to be a villain when you’re distracted by muscles—you suddenly feel a strange tug, like someone’s yanking you backward by an invisible rope.

Your eyes widen. “Wait, what—”

The room starts spinning. One second, you’re staring at Bucky’s very serious, very grumpy face, and the next, it feels like the entire lair is collapsing around you. Everything blurs together in a whirl of colors and lights.

“OH MY GOD, AM I DYING?!” you scream, arms flailing as you try to hold onto something, anything. But there’s nothing. Not even Bucky’s annoyed expression to anchor you.

For a brief, panicked moment, you’re convinced this is it. This is how you go out. Flung into the void for writing bad fanfiction. What a way to go.

Then, with a pop, you land face-first into... your bed.

You blink, completely disoriented. “Wait... what just happened?”

Your laptop sits open beside you, the fanfic document staring you in the face like it’s mocking you. Your head is spinning, your heart racing, and you slowly sit up, still convinced you might be hallucinating.

“No way...” you mutter, glancing around your bedroom, taking in the very non-evil surroundings. The smell of laundry detergent. The sound of traffic outside. Your cat, Felix, staring at you from the corner with a look that clearly says, What the hell was that?

“I’m... back?” You pat yourself down, making sure you’re all in one piece. No villain outfit, no lair, no brooding super-soldiers demanding you fix things. Just... reality.

It hits you like a ton of bricks. “Oh my God, I got kicked out of my own fanfic.”

You collapse backward onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I didn’t even get to redeem myself! Or finish flirting with Bucky! Not that I was doing a good job, but still!”

Felix hops onto the bed and meows at you, completely unimpressed with your current existential crisis.

You groan, pulling the laptop onto your lap and staring at the screen. “Well... I guess this is better than being trapped in my own chaotic, terrible story. But man, I was so close to redeeming myself. Kinda.”

Felix bats at your laptop as if to remind you of your priorities.

“Fine, fine,” you mutter, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I guess I’ll just... write the rest of the story like a normal person.”

You pause, glancing at Felix. “Do you think Bucky misses me?”

Felix’s blank stare is the only response you get.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sigh dramatically. “He probably doesn’t even remember me. I didn’t even get to finish my evil monologue.”

You sit up on your bed, still reeling from your sudden ejection from the fanfic world. Your brain is buzzing with one thought: I need to go back.

Sure, your villainous arc had gone off the rails, but you were so close to turning things around. And, let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want to try a redemption arc when it means more time with Bucky?

You rub your temples, staring at your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe. “Okay, okay... maybe if I just... concentrate hard enough, I can get back in. That’s how it works, right?”

Felix watches you with his usual disapproving stare as you gather all the determination you can muster and lean in toward the laptop screen.

“Come on, just suck me back into the fanfic,” you mutter, inching closer to the screen, squinting at it as if somehow willing yourself back into the story would do the trick. “Please?”

Nothing.

You frown. “Alright, time for desperate measures.”

With a deep breath, you slam your forehead into the laptop screen.

Thud.

“Ow!” you yelp, clutching your head as Felix meows at you like, What is wrong with you?

“That didn’t work,” you mutter, rubbing your forehead. “Okay, let’s try something else.”

You get up, pacing back and forth. “What did I do last time? Maybe if I type something... yeah, that’s it! I’ll just type myself back in!”

You sit back down, hands flying over the keyboard as you try to rewrite yourself back into the fanfic.

“Y/N is sucked back into the story... um... gracefully and... with a cool villain pose!” you type, nodding to yourself. “Yeah, perfect.”

You press enter with a dramatic flourish and then wait.

...

Nothing happens.

You stare at the screen, blinking. “Okay, rude.”

Felix hops up onto the desk, flicking his tail in annoyance as if to say, Even I know this is a terrible plan.

“Oh, shut up,” you grumble at the cat, shaking your head. “Maybe it needs more drama.”

You jump up from your chair and dramatically yell, “I SUMMON THEE, FANFICTION WORLD! BRING ME BACK TO BUCKY!”

Felix stares at you, completely unimpressed.

Still nothing.

“Why is this so hard?” you groan, leaning over your laptop like you’re trying to psychically connect with it. “Come on, take me back! Just throw me back into the chaos! I’ll do better this time, I swear!”

In a fit of frustration, you try slapping the screen. Then gently caressing it. Then hugging the laptop like it’s some magical portal that just needs a little love.

Felix meows again, this time louder, as if to say, Seriously, stop embarrassing yourself.

“Fine!” you huff, letting go of the laptop. “Maybe I need to... I don’t know, meditate my way back in. Channel my inner villain.”

You sit cross-legged on the bed, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “I am a powerful, misunderstood villainess. Bucky Barnes cannot resist my charm. Take me baaaaack...”

Silence.

Your eyes pop open and you look around. Still in your bedroom. Felix gives you an unimpressed side-eye.

“Ugh!” you groan, throwing yourself backward onto the bed in defeat. “I’m stuck here. Forever.”

Then, out of nowhere, your phone buzzes. You lazily grab it, fully prepared to ignore the world, when you see the time.

Your eyes widen in horror. “Oh no... I’m late for work!”

You leap off the bed, tossing Felix an apologetic look. “Sorry, gotta go! Villainy will have to wait! Please don’t tell anyone how badly this went!”

In your panic, you nearly trip over your slippers as you rush to grab your bag and dash for the door, realizing that while you might have been kicked out of your fanfic, real life is waiting—and it doesn’t care how close you were to a redemption arc.

As you race to get ready, you can’t help but mumble to yourself, “I swear, next time I get sucked into a fanfic, I’m writing myself as the hero... and with a better wake-up plan.”

[quarterlifecrisis-activated]

This line has haunted me for a while now. It was a line I overlooked but it still felt important. It’s not just about Zheng’s ship but piracy as a whole. Piracy in the show is a male dominated field run under toxic masculinity and pressures. Throughout season 1 the idea gets reinforced that piracy is just this way, and to survive and thrive you have to conform to its standards. Izzy and Calico Jack and even the Badminton twins have this firm idea of what piracy is and should be.

Let’s look at season 1 episode 1. Stede as captain and the Revenge as a whole is played as a joke pirate ship. We know that the crew is considered bottom of the barrel when it comes to what you would want for a bloodthirsty pirate horde. Throughout the season this is pointed out over and over again. Izzy says that they’re not real pirates and I agree. At least they’re not real pirates as set by the standard of piracy. The crew are kind, they do crafts and like to be read to. Pirates don’t have friends and they don’t make things they steal them. Pirates also don’t live long. Most of the pirates Ed knows are dead. Frankly, the only reason Ed, Izzy, Fang, and Ivan are probably still alive is because Blackbeard doesn’t actually have to do raids because everyone surrenders. I firmly believe that if Stede and the crew tried to be “real” pirates they would’ve all died. Stede is not a good pirate by the end of season 1. Honestly, I don’t really think he’s trying to be. He doesn’t actually want to be a pirate, I mean if you told that man that he’d be responsible for a pirate fleet he’d probably faint. By the end of season 1 you could make the argument that the way Stede runs his ship is not conducive to successful piracy. That is until you meet Zheng Yi Sao.

Needless to say that Zheng is the most successful pirate we’ve seen on the show. Her fleet is massive and she conquered China. She’s an amazing pirate and she also defies the standard for piracy set by season 1. Her crew of the Red Flag (much like the Revenge) have communal activities, good food, they’re open with each other. If being successful as a pirate means adhering to toxic ideals where you’re on your own and you have to stab each other in the back to survive, Zheng’s fleet should be like that. But it’s not. Because true success is not about if you can get the thing you want but how long you can hold onto it. The other way leads to death and mutiny because being individualistic means you cannot be loyal to anything but your own self interest. With how spread out Zheng’s fleet is it would be so easy for someone to mutiny and take some of her ships. We can see Zheng fosters a sense of camaraderie among her crew. Season 2 shows that the idea that piracy is mean and toxic because it has to be is wrong. I’m sure if they got a season 3 they’d further develop this point.

Notably, Zheng’s crew are mostly all women. Much like the Revenge, these crews are full of marginalized people. Historically, marginalized groups had to develop their own community because they were not getting support on their own. It’s also no surprise that the main advocates for the old way of piracy were white men. They were told that they could do whatever they wanted by themselves and that they didn’t need to rely on anyone. And that was true… until they couldn’t keep up and then they were chewed up and spit out. You don’t last long on your own.

That’s why Zheng is such a threat to Ricky. Not just because she has a large fleet but because she was organizing other pirates. One pirate can be stopped but all of them are too formidable. We see this in season 1 when Stede is about to be executed. Ed alone can’t stop it, even though he’s Blackbeard, but once the entire crew defends Stede things change. The system thrives on people standing alone because they’re easy to quash, but also who needs to worry about a jumpstart pirate captain because sooner or later they’ll be mutinied against. I think this is what Izzy comes to see throughout season 2 and informs his speech to Ricky. Maybe the real piracy was the collective action and community we made along the way.

Circling back to the quote that started this, men don’t fit in with Zheng’s crew because they were purposely fed the lie that reliance on each other and community building was weak and soft. They’d have to unpack the lie they’ve been fed their whole life. The crown and piracy are two sides of the same coin holding up the same status quo. But piracy is dying because it was never designed to last. The crew of the Revenge live against all odds because to them it’s not about piracy itself but community and family. And those ideas can’t be killed.

[awkward-tension-art]

Order 66 (tbb x Jedi!reader)

Ok, so i’ve had this idea in my head of the clones with a Jedi S/O during Order 66. I don’t mean they act on Order 66, I mean if everything sorta played out similar in canon (Chip doesn’t work)

Idk, I like me some protective boys.

CW: minimally proofread, jedi!S/O, Reader, Gender neutral pronouns, Order 66, violence, death, swearing, Hunter trying his best, Wrecker being a sweetie, Echo is ready to fight, Tech is the only one who is level headed, and Crosshair being somewhat emotional

You were following Caleb when the order came through. Your steps stumbled and your knees hit the cold ground. All around you, the Force was being ripped apart. Hands were on your shoulders. 

your lover. You barely realized through the haze.

With absolute horror, you watched helplessly as clones gunned down Depa Billaba. “Run Caleb!” You heard her scream through the overwhelming grief and death you felt. The padawan turned, lightsaber ready. 

“Get away from us!” he barked, calling your name, “Get up! Please!”

He was panicked, confused. So were you. 

You managed to look up, seeing the clone troopers across the field standing over Master Billaba’s smoking corpse. They were prepping to kill you and the padawan next.

Without another word you bolted, grabbing Caleb’s hand and sprinting to the trees. You didn’t look back. You had to make sure the kid was safe.

Hunter

“Wait!” He’ll give chase before stopping at the tree line. He had never seen you look so devastated and afraid. 

He’s going to follow you. Of course he is. He’s just as confused as everyone else. 

Until Tech finally finds out what's going on

“The Jedi have been ordered to be executed.” “Which one?” “All of them.”

“What!? Why!?” Hunter is panicked at this point. The troopers behind him have orders to kill. They won’t show you mercy. 

“Apparently they’ve committed treason.”

By the time he finds you, Caleb had already jumped across the ravine and was waiting for you. You turned, tears in your eyes.

“I can feel it…everyone is being killed.” 

“We’re going to figure this out,” He’s going to try and calm you down, “I promise, we’re going to figure this out.” His arms are around you. 

It wasn’t safe for you. Not anywhere near him and the others. He knows this. You know this. 

The two of you come up with a hurried plan.

“Go to these coordinates. Once we know what's going on, I’ll come find you.” He’ll kiss you passionately, “Get the kid and hide.” 

Hunter won’t go with you. He’s the squad leader. He can’t just go missing. 

Despite the fear that you’ll be found out, he trusts you and your skills to stay alive.

Once you jump across, he’ll watch, make sure no one follows or tries to shoot at you. 

Once he’s questioned on your whereabouts, he’s going to lie, “I managed to stab the kid and shoot the Jedi. both of them fell into the water.”

I will say, his nerves are shot until he gets to you again. 

But in the meanwhile? He’s antsy. Anxious and a tad distracted.

Also a hairs trigger from snapping.

Crosshair badgers him at Kamino and Hunter barely holds back a punch.

Hunter loves you, so damn dearly. And right now he can’t protect you because he needs to figure out what the fuck is going on.

But, after finding the truth and getting Omega, he makes a damn beeline for the coordinates he gave you.

Plus side? Caleb and Omega become friends.

Echo

What the FUCK just happend!?

He sprints into the trees to keep up, ignoring how Hunter is calling his name. 

“Echo, get back here!” 

“No.” He will cut off his comms. 

He’s an ARC trooper, he can track you to a degree. He’s not like Hunter, but he gets to the general area where you are. 

He manages to get to a clearing where you and Caleb are hiding in the trees. 

“Cyare!” Echo is clearly confused, worried and he swears he feels the same amount of death that’s overwhelmed you. 

Once you reveal yourself, his helmet is off and his arms are around you so tightly.

“I don’t know what's going on, but I’ll keep you and Commander Dume safe.”

Hunter and Crosshair catch up to you, and once Crosshair aims his blaster at you and Caleb, Echo is ready to brawl. 

He stands protectively in front of you, gun aimed at the sniper, “If your skinny ass doesn’t put the fucking gun away I swear to-!”

“Both of you stand down!” Hunter will have to get between them, because Echo is 100% willing to shoot Crosshair if it means you stay safe. 

He’s not aware Crosshair doesn't exactly have a choice at the moment.

Really no one is aware.

But he’s lost domino squad, he’s lost Fives, he's lost legion, right now his former general is probably being killed…He’s lost so much already.

He refuses to lose you too.

So Echo pulls the trigger first, settling on stunning him and making a dash towards the ravine. Hunter has to keep up.

Once Caleb is across, he’ll get meetup coordinates from Hunter.

Echo goes with you. He doesn’t return to Kamino. The moment he's across the ravine with you and Caleb he’s a deserter. 

He doesn’t care. He just doesn’t want to lose you.

He’s a strong, determined guard, and one who didn’t let you or Caleb get hurt.

Wrecker

He casts a glance at Hunter before running off after you. 

He has no idea what Order 66 is. Nor does he care.

The guy saw you so…out of it. So scared and confused.

His protective instincts have geared up to 11. 

Hunter goes with him, while Crosshair is the one who remains behind to stall.

Once Tech informs everyone that the Jedi have been named traitors and should be executed on sight, Wrecker gets serious. Very serious. 

He becomes so unlike himself, even Crosshair is surprised.

Honestly? I see Wrecker as someone willing to gun down any ‘reg’ if they’re threatening his squad or s/o. 

Even this early into the Empire.

When he sees you, he’s immediately grabbing you into his arms which causes Caleb to attack.

Admittedly he’s gonna tackle Caleb, only adding to the poor kids terror. 

“Wrecker, you're scaring him!” 

But after a strong bear hug and an “Easy kid! I’m tryna help you!” The padawan calms down enough to listen. 

He puts Caleb down, rips off his helmet and gives you one hell of a kiss. 

He’s worried. He’s scared. And he wants to protect you. 

Hunter will have to talk him down from running off with you.

The sergeant has to keep his squad together. It sucks but they need to figure out what the heck is happening at the moment.

Wrecker desperately wants to go with you but he can’t abandon his squad.

However, he feels much better once Hunter gives some safe coordinates to lay low and hide.

He’ll get you to the ravine and stand guard until you and Caleb are across and out of sight.

You bet your ass when he meets up with you again he’s not letting you go. 

Tech

He isn’t as emotional as the others at the moment. He’s actually focused on gathering as much information in the least amount of time.

He waits, listening to the comm chatter. What is going on? why?

“Execute Order 66.”

After a second, he shares a look with Hunter.

“Tech, go after-”

No more words need to be said. Tech is gone and going after you.

He’s smart. He knows your patterns. He knows where you’d most likely hide. So he focuses on that.

Once he’s confident he’s in a broad area where you and Caleb are, he’s going to call out to you, “Cyare? There’s something called Order 66 on the comms.” 

Tech gives you information first. He won’t make you reveal yourself if you don’t feel safe enough. 

When Echo announces that the Jedi have been charged with treason, he’ll relay that to you. 

“The comms say the Jedi committed treason against the Republic,” He’s going to keep looking around for you, “I know you. You’d never do such a thing. I’m here, Cyare. I can help you.”

Once you reveal yourself, Caleb behind you, he feels the biggest amount of relief. 

He pulls off his helmet, giving you a small smile.

“Tech…The Jedi…” your voice cracks, “They’re being killed…I can feel it.” 

“I know, Cyare…I’m sorry.” He tries his best to comfort you, but he knows he can never understand. 

The amount of Jedi he’s worked with can be counted on one hand. 

But he knows this is your family. Your friends. Your very life.

Once Hunter meets up with you guys, a plan can be put in place. 

He gives you coordinates for a location to meet-up and hide. You’ll lay low with Caleb.

In the meantime, Tech will return to Kamino, figure out what's happening, and from there a better, more long term plan can be made.

Before you leave though, he’s going to give you the longest, most passionate kiss he's ever given you.

He’s well aware that there's a chance you can be found and killed. 

Tech is the only one who has accepted that you may not make it out of this.

But he’s going to keep his mind occupied, distract himself until he’s by your side again. 

Crosshair

As soon as the order goes out, Crosshair is under the influence of the inhibitor chip.

He just doesn’t know. No one does at this point.

He watches you run away with Caleb and the drive to hunt you down is hard to ignore.

He needs to find you to kill you, to protect you.

But, the sudden headache he has is damn near blinding.

Crosshair follows Hunter, keeping his comms on.

He freezes when Tech finds out the Jedi have been marked for execution.

The Inhibitor Chip in his skull is contending with his feelings for you.

He needs to execute save you.

When he spots you he pulls his rifle and aims but barely manages to stop himself.

He can’t hurt you. He needs to kill loves you.

Crosshair draws some sort of conclusion that Kaminoans had conditioned all clones to follow specific orders.

He doesn’t know of the chip. He just assumes it comes from the troopers' conditioning.

When his arms are around your body, for a brief moment he thinks of snapping your neck.

Good soldiers follow orders.

He hates orders.

This is the point where Crosshair knows something is seriously wrong with him.

But he’s not going to say anything yet. He can still fight if need be.

“You need to run…hide…get away from here.” it's a rare moment that he’s scared.

The sniper is desperate to shoot protect you.

The headache is persistent, and it’s somewhat distracting.

But he’ll power through.

Crosshair will wait for Hunter to come up with…something. 

His eyes are on the area around you, gun set to kill in case any reg tries anything.

The plan? Clone Force 99 returns to Kamino while you and Caleb go into hiding. 

You have coordinates. He can find you later. 

But…well Crosshair doesn’t like that. At all.

Hear me out. Like Echo, Crosshair goes with you. He knows somethings up with him, but he trusts himself more than he trusts anyone else.

“Tell Kamino they killed me.” He instructs Hunter, “That I died trying to stop the Jedi and you managed to get justice.”

He crosses the ravine with you, only looking back to nod back to Hunter. 

By the time Crosshair, you and Caleb safely get off the planet, his headache is a small annoyance that goes away with time.

Crosshair sticks with you until he reunites with his squad and notices Omega

Welp, you got Caleb, what's one more kid?

[cynassa]

Why I think the Outlaws were a good idea, if frequently terribly executed and Task force z wasn’t although parts of it were well-executed:

One distinct difference between Bruce and Jason or rather the difference between Bruce and Red Hood is that Jason requires absolution from society for whatever he’s done, whether it’s attacking Cobblepot or the 8-heads-in-a-bag, whatever wrongs he has done is to society as a whole and possibly to the families of whoever he killed. Bruce’s faults are against his family and associates (and he should be atoning to them specifically but we all know that won’t happen).

Jason’s fault is in destabilising society (there’s an argument here that vigilantes do that anyway, but I have points for why it’s different the way Jason did it, I’m not going into that here). I personally think he’s better off trying to make a difference out in the world than in jail (call it community service) which is why the concept of the Outlaws is good. He is atoning to society for what he did while hopefully acknowledging that it’s not zero sum, that he has to get up and keep doing it anyway.

Finally, Red Hood was the moniker he took to take power away from the man who sinned against him. It can now be understood as the moniker he carries to acknowledge his own sins, he does not drop it and simply vanish into a new identity so that he is identified with what he is done and his past - it is saying, to everyone he meets, “this is who I am and what I’ve done, and I acknowledge that you might dislike or mistrust me, and I give you the power to do so.”

Bruce, on the other hand, behaves unforgivably to his family. For a very long time, the narrative seems to behave as if Jason’s transgressions are the same, but by and large Jason’s transgressions are not against the batclan, bftc excluded. Even more so are his transgressions not against Bruce.

Jason should not be atoning to Bruce or to the bat clan. Him wanting their trust and atoning to them (Bruce specifically historically) sets them up as something they are not: capable of forgiving him on behalf of society. It is a travesty to act as if Bruce could or should, and as if once Bruce forgives him that makes him worthy. It doesn’t, as long as Gotham’s people don’t trust him again. AND it is a further travesty because even if they do, they who he has sinned against can’t, and whether or not he believes he was correct to kill them, or even if society agrees that it was okay (because they needed to be stopped) he should know that no one else can forgive him on their behalf. He would probably be okay with that, pragmatically, but he should be aware of it.

The fact that Bruce also seems to be behaving as if Jason’s offences are against him personally, something that he needs to correct, is ALSO a travesty of bad writing. Neither Batman nor Bruce are capable of redeeming him and it's practically a god-complex for him to think he can.

[satinroses]

Off the beaten path

Yan! Albedo x reader x Yan! Susbedo

4874 Words

GN! reader

Summary: Albedo has been frantic about keeping you far away from Dragonspine for reasons unknown but when Sucrose asks you to go to Dragonspine to gather some ingredients for her you can’t help but go there however when you arrive Albedo doesn’t seem at all upset over your sudden arrival in Dragonspine… rather he seems uncharacteristically enthusiastic.

guys this is my first fic so erm I'm sorry if it’s really bad :[

Warnings: typical yandere behaviours, non-con kissing, both Albedos being little creeps, Y/N needs a break and has official permission to execute them both, Y/N is a smidge naïve, Manipulation, gaslighting

The brisk air of Dragonspine doesn’t sit gently in your lungs, instead its crispness demands your attention. Each breath is invigorating. You were never one to focus on meditation or breathing techniques, seeing little interest in self-reflection or mindfulness however on mornings like this one on Dragonspine with the bright morning sun rising to full mast you couldn't help but feel rather contemplative. 

Admittedly you were not as alchemically inclined as your lover, the chief alchemist of the Knights of Favonius however when sucrose entered Albedo’s office late at night in a state of utter disarray as the samples of flora she had procured from Dragonspine had seemingly vanished from under her very nose you couldn’t help but take pity on the poor girl in her panic. Tomorrow morning she would be too busy refining the remaining electro hypostasis’ lightning prisms from her last journey outside the walls of Mondstadt for yet another experiment… She simply wouldn't be able to make the trek to Dragonspine and back while also completing all of her tasks but despite her pleading the knights were far too busy to waste their time collecting mere greenery.

You shifted on your feet, you always thought she held herself to a far harsher standard than she deserved, constantly focusing on her shortcomings as Albedo’s apprentice rather than acknowledging what an accomplished and gifted alchemist she was in her own right. You walked towards the distraught green-haired alchemist, firmly grasping her on each shoulder. At your steady grasp sucrose looked up at the reassuring smile you gave her “Sucrose! Don’t fret so much, you’ve already done more than enough. I’ve got it handled, I’ll head to Dragonspine first thing tomorrow morning and I'll have the samples for you before lunchtime.” For the first time since Sucrose entered the room you could feel your lover's eyes rising from the notebook where he had been scrawling away his recent findings for the past few hours, his turquoise eyes piercing into your body as though if he stared hard enough he’d be able pierce your subconsciousness and reprogram you, as though if he impressed his vision into you long enough you would eventually be remade in his vision, as though staring could somehow convince you to rescind your offer. 

Although Albedo was typically indifferent about how you spent your time and who you associated with, you couldn't help but notice that recently he had been very clearly trying to shepherd you away from the snowy peak of Dragonspine. Any ideas of visiting him while he was working was quickly shot down with a “It’s not worth the trek, most of my work in Dragonspine will be done soon enough, there is no point in journeying all that way”. Any mentions of stopping by to drop off some warm food for himself, Sucrose and Timaeus was quickly halted with a “we pack more than enough food and there are plenty of braziers around the camp, please don't worry yourself” much to the dismay of Timaeus. It felt as though every attempt to come see him working had been instantly stopped by some rebuttal he had regarding it as a waste of time and energy.

It would be a lie to say your heart didn’t ache with every blatant refusal to your attempts to visit him on the mountain. He let Kaeya, Klee and Sucrose visit him freely but he seemed particularly insistent that you do not come to Dragonspine, that you don't even entertain the idea. In spite of Albedo's recent reluctance for you to venture to the frozen mountain, you refused to be deterred. This particular voyage was not a selfish endeavour for your own entertainment… no! Sucrose needed your help and you refused to let her down. It would be a breeze to wander about the mountain picking flowers for a little while before meandering back to Mondstadt to what would likely be a hero’s welcome from the young woman, besides with your pyro vision strapped to your waist you sincerely doubted any hillichurls would be causing you issues and you knew well enough to steer clear of any Fatui outposts placed along the winding frozen pathways.

The mint-haired woman let out a deep sigh of relief, her breathing steadying as she looked at you hopefully “really?! You will? Thank you so much Y/N I- I don't know how to repay you I-'' you laughed warmly at the girl’s gratitude “think nothing of it! It’ll be a piece of cake, besides I haven't left Monstadt’s walls in weeks, going out and exploring will do me some good.” It seemed as though this past month almost every commission took place within the walls of Mondstadt, if you had to clean that blasted statue of Barbatos or tell that creep Albert to knock it off one more time you were going to go crazy, on the rare occasion you were given a commission that left the walls of Mondstadt it was something mundane like a food delivery to Springvale and back. You hadn’t had a single combat commission in weeks. you had filed several complaints to Katherine about the distribution of commissions and despite her promises to reach out to her higher ups regarding potential flaws in the commission distribution system, she still hadn't gotten back to you.

With Sucrose’s issue resolved and her mind soothed you gently guide her to the door of Albedo’s office “It’s getting late and I’m sure you’ll have a busy day tomorrow” you say to her, clasping the bronze door handle and holding the door open “I’ll see you tomorrow, verdure in tow!” you exclaimed as you watched the girl amble over to the exit of the Knight’s headquarters, waving you a polite goodbye. 

You softly shut the thick oak door to Albedo’s office not wanting to disturb the diligent genius, taking his silence during your conversation with sucrose as a sign of him returning to his work. Ever the academic, Albedo rarely allowed himself to be distracted from a task once he had dedicated himself to it, however upon turning around you were greeted by Albedo still staring at you intently, his eyes having never once left your frame. His pupils were dilated, the darkness engulfing his iris leaving only a sliver of blue as an outermost ring. He didn’t blink as though afraid you would slip from his grasp the moment he shut his eyes. His body was still, his entire being focused on watching you as though he was waiting for something to happen. He hadn’t written a word since your mention of Dragonspine, his studies completely paused as his pen stayed pressed on his crisp white notepad, a thick ink blot seeping into the page and staining it but in spite of this, the observant Albedo didn’t make any effort to move the pen.

Seeing Albedo so on edge subsequently had you unsettled. You gently walk across the plush red carpet approaching Albedo, taking the pen out of his hand and setting it down on his desk before he could further sully his work. Only upon your contact with him did he seemingly snap out of the daze he was in, blinking softly. His eyes still zeroed in on you but they seemed softer, less frantic. Upon setting the pen down you began to wrap your coat around your shoulders “you know what i said to sucrose is right, i should be heading home soon before i have to bump into the crowd of tavern crawlers on their way from The Cat’s Tail to The Angel’s Share” you joke gently attempting to lighten the mood, Albedo barely manages a smile at your jest. instead getting up and shoving his arms haphazardly into the sleeves of the jacket he stripped off hours ago “let me walk you home. It’s getting far too dark for you to be wandering about Mondstadt alone. I wouldn't be able to rest well unless I knew you made it back safely.” You smile bashfully at the consideration he's shown for you.

“Oh Albedo, i don't want to be a bother I'm sure you have plenty of things to-”

“I insist.”

“Well if you insist” you smile softly, your heart fluttering at his show of chivalry

You nodded and fiddled with the buttons of your coat, your fingers trembling as Albedo stood by the door waiting for you to be ready to leave. Upon noticing your battle with your buttons Albedo quickly faced you as he placed your hands by your side to instead button your coat up himself. The moment you were suitably clothed to brace the cool Mondstadt evenings Albedo’s arm snaked around your waist as he ushered you out of the Knight’s headquarters. Your cheeks warmed at his gesture as the reserved alchemist’s hand enclosed your waist tightly, pulling you closer into him as though he was trying to mould you together, unable to be separated by anyone or anything. You attempted to initiate some small talk as you wandered through Mondstadt, however Albedo hardly noticed. He muttered vague replies or made noises of affirmation as you discussed your day and how cold it had been recently and how excited you were for the next Windblume festival. Instead Albedo’s eyes were fixed intently on the shadows the dim streetlamps of Mondstadt cast as though a ghost was about to peer out from one of the alleys. As you reached your home you opened the door yet Albedo's hand didn't move from your waist. You stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to release you from his grasp but he didn’t move his hand until several awkward seconds had passed before he hesitantly allowed you to walk through your front door. “Goodnight Albedo” you whisper gently before pressing a gentle peck to his cheek. You disappear behind your door trying to forget about Albedo’s peculiar behaviour tonight, fretting about what could have possibly made him so troubled. In spite of your concern about Albedo’s recent behaviours you slipped into an uneasy sleep, unaware of how he remained steadfastly on your doorstep like a statue keeping watch until the sun began to peak over the rolling hills of Mondstadt and he reluctantly retired to his own abode.

●・○・●・○・●・

The crunch of the fresh layer of snow beneath your shoes invigorated you as you continued your trek along the mountainside. Your head felt light as you inhaled the overwhelming saccharine scent of the half dozen sweet flowers you had found, your hand clutching the stems of the flowers gently, determined to bring Sucrose back the best possible samples. Alas you couldn’t help but feel as though your luck had all but run out when you began to search for mint. Perhaps some traveller had plucked the last of it in this area or maybe you were just unlucky. You bent over in the snow, your head almost grazing the ground as you sifted your hands through the snow hoping your fingers might latch onto even a mint sapling, that perhaps the constant winter snowfall had simply covered up all the fresh mint. After a few minutes of sifting through the mountainside snow you began to instinctively reach for your weapon as a distinctly humanoid presence loomed over you… there shouldn't be Fatui this far from the main path but perhaps these were scouts for a larger group. You held your breath not wanting the person to realise you were aware of their presence until you were ready or you were forced to act, likely the latter. As several minutes passed and you still pretended to be focused on the frost dusted ground beneath you rather than the presence looming over your form you were confused as to why they hadn’t approached yet… perhaps it was just some freezing adventurer too sheepish to ask for help so they were simply waiting to be noticed… or perhaps it was an inquisitive little snow fox or boar who would scurry away the moment you acknowledged it yes, that sounded much better. You would turn around and be greeted by some shy little forest animal who would flee the moment you acknowledged it. Yes. That was it. Nothing bad is behind you. You began to repeat in your head as you rested your numb hands on the hilt of your weapon before taking a deep breath and turning around.

Of all the potential scenarios you imagined being greeted by, seeing Albedo staring at you in utter shock was not one of them. You exhaled softly before you began to chuckle in relief, pressing your hand over your thumping heart as you chastised your over-active imagination. You smile gently “‘Bedo I didn't think I’d bump into you, what are you doing on this part of the mountain?” You awaited a response yet you weren’t greeted by one, you looked back up at Albedo but instead of him offering you a small smile or him trying to usher you off the mountain he simply stood there staring at you as though it was the first time he had truly seen you. He drank in deep breaths, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes danced across you, blinking softly as though trying to dispel some sort of illusion “Albedo? Everything okay?” you ask gently, your mind already on slight alert after his peculiar behaviour last night. Suddenly he let out a deep gasp as he stuttered out “what are you doing here? I thought… i thought you weren’t fond of Dragonstone…” you look up at Albedo in utter confusion “Not fond…? Albedo what are you talking about, you’re the one who practically forces me off the mountain” you say, half joking, half serious.

Albedo’s gaze becomes cold as he spits out “of course I do” with a venom unfamiliar to his voice, his eyes glaring into the ground with such profound hatred it startles you. He quickly remembers your presence and haphazardly attempts to regain his composure with a deep breath and a few blinks before he says in an even tone “then what are you doing here then Y/N? Shouldn’t you be in Mondstadt?” Your heart beat steadily accelerates as you feel your skin crawling as Albedo stares at you, his gaze seeping into your skin as he drinks in every little detail, his eyes fixating on every mole and birthmark and freckle, desperately imprinting them into his mind like this is the last time he might ever see you “we discussed this last night remember? I’m looking for some flowers for Sucrose’s experiment” you state, your voice tight as my body tense like a coiled spring ready to launch itself out of the grasping hands of the alchemist.

Albedo puts his hand on his chin as he begins to mutter “Sucrose… Sucrose… Sucrose… Sucrose!” he had sounded utterly befuddled by the mention of her until the final mutter of Sucrose seemed to ignite some spark of familiarity, like Sucrose was more of a passing acquaintance rather than his most promising protégé. 

“Yes of course Sucrose needed some flowers like we discussed last night”

“Yes that would appear to be the case” You giggled breathlessly, trying to ignore the pit of bile bubbling in your stomach “I just want to find some mint and then I'll begin the trudge back to Mondstadt”

“Oh… some mint? I think I know where you might be able to find some”

“O-Oh are you sure I don't want to be a bother and I don't want to get in the way of anything or be a nuisance or knock something important over in your lab” You stuttered out sheepishly, trying to find any way to get back to Mondstadt.

“Nonsense I’ve set up a temporary second camp just a little ways up the mountain, follow me. I’m sure we’ll find plenty of flora up there”

“Okay yes you’re right” You beam trying to ignore how tight the grin feels, like your skin is cracking underneath it. He holds out his soft cool palm waiting for you to grab it. You gently settle your hand in his unable to hear how his breath hitches softly as your numb fingers are clutched by his, a barely noticeable flush spreading across his complexion. Each step in the direction of this second camp makes your foot feel heavier until eventually you’re practically shuffling through the snow. As you wind through the passageways of the mountain you can’t help but feel like you’re going far too high but each time you ask Albedo about the new camp’s location you’re greeted by the same excuse “just a little ways further.”

“‘Bedo…” you stutter out “I should turn back, I need to get these flowers back to Sucrose soon. I promised she’d have them by lunchtime and the sun is getting rather high” 

He stopped in his tracks, the hand that had been grasping onto yours tightens with an unnatural grip “but we’re almost there” he smiles out, the smile far too large and toothy to look natural on him, mimicking a lion baring its teeth far more than a reassuring grin “just a little further” he repeats once more as he continues up the path, your hand still held tightly in his. You had followed him for as long as your reason had allowed but now you were venturing into parts of Dragonspine unknown even to you as he dragged you up yet another beaten path. You smile half heartedly, trying to ignore the primal sensation of fear when Albedo smiles at you, the undeniable emotion of something being deeply wrong every time he tightens his hold on your hand.

You stop walking and begin to try to coax your limb out of his grip but the gentle tugging of your hand out of his makes his smile drop. He balls his now empty fist as he pauses and stares down the offending limb as though it had personally wronged him. you stare at your feet, your eyes darting between your snow scuffed boots and the sweet flowers clasped tightly in your other hand as you try to avoid albedo’s gaze permeating through you. Albedo’s lack of social adeptness was often something you found endearing, another quality which raised the alchemist’s standing in your eyes but right here in the crisp morning air of Dragonspine with the sun shining far too bright, there was never another quality you despised more. The chief alchemist simply stared. you tried to move. You could apologise to Albedo for your behaviour later but as you were about to move your legs his fist grasped onto your wrist with a bruising grip. You reflexively dropped the sweet flowers that you had kept grasped securely in your hand as Albedo’s cold hand fixed around your wrist. You couldn't find it in your panic stricken haze to even think about the flowers that were now resting on the cold mountain snow. 

You yelped out in pain before looking up at Albedo for an explanation for his sudden change in demeanour. He offered none, instead he shifted his cold, stiff body closer against yours so your fronts were pressed together, chest to chest. He breathed down on your face, his breath wasn’t warm or wet like you had expected, instead it felt cool on your skin. Snowflakes settled on his long lashes as his pupils dilated, flickering to your lips. You stood stock still as confusion began to cloud your mind. Albedo’s gloved other hand rose to your lips, gently caressing them. “So warm…” he muttered absentmindedly as he traced the curve of your cupid's bow before his finger fell down to your lower lip. You enclosed your only free hand around Albedo’s, coaxing his fingers away from your lips instead you placed it down by his side “‘Bedo… I promised Sucrose those flowers, I need to get back to Mondstadt soon” his expression hardened before he finally acquiesced. Albedo’s dismay at you having to leave so soon was apparent until a mischievous glint alit in his eye. He tightened his grip on your arm before he whispered against your lips “I'll let you return to Sucrose if you promise me adequate compensation…” you could have laughed at the absurdity of Albedo’s demands “compensation?” you guffawed “You can't be serious Albedo.” he pulled you closer, no space was left between you as he tittered airily, running his hand softly through your hair “shh shh shh… I don't want mora and I don't want favours, I just want” his cheek flushed pink in spite of the confidence he exuded as he breathed out “I just want a kiss. That's all.” You were perplexed at Albedo’s request, since your relationship with the chief alchemist had been formalised he had rarely felt the need to formally ask for permission to kiss you but the Albedo here and now was blushing like a virgin at the mere thought of it. 

Typically you might have questioned his sudden change in behaviour but with some divine intervention seemingly handing you a way out of this awkward exchange on a golden platter you didn’t feel inclined to throw it back in the face of whichever archon had decided to bless you with this opportunity. Instead you leaned in softly before pressing a gentle, hesitant kiss to Albedo’s lips. To your relief his remaining grip on your hand loosened as your lips skimmed his but the sudden slackness didn't seem to affect just his hand but rather his whole body as he didn't kiss you back. Instead Albedo kept his eyes tightly shut as his entire body froze, the only part of his body that seemed tense was his furrowed brows. It was as though he were in a state of deep contemplation, focusing only on memorising the feeling of your warm lips on his. With his attention completely on the feeling of your mouth slotted against his own and his arms resting loosely by his sides, you took the chance to quickly separate yourself from him, turning away and fleeing along the frosty pathway down the mountain in a desperate attempt to escape the unnerving encounter.

You couldn’t hear Albedo calling out to you or following behind you so once you had made significant distance between where you and Albedo had been standing you turned to face him. To your surprise Albedo hadn’t moved an inch, he stayed exactly as you had left him, as though suspended in the moment in which your lips left his. The only difference is that this time his eyes were ignited with a cold determination, a look you knew to be unique to Albedo when he made a breakthrough experiment, when he found an ingredient he had been scavenging for months to find, when he finally located a dusty old tome or scrap of paper which had the information he needed and now when he stared at your frame scurrying down the mountain. As the base of the mountain came into view and your nerves began to settle you realised that in your desperation to get away you had left the flowers on the snowy ground. You halted for half a second, your foot pivoting as you prepared to venture back up the winding path but as your eyes met the incline up the mountain you were filled with paralysing nausea. Every single instinct in your body was fighting against the idea of going back up the mountain. Whatever interaction you and Albedo had shared up there, a raw, primitive, instinctual part of you knew that it had been wrong, that it had been off, that if you went back up the path then you truly believed you would not make it back down the mountain for a second time.

●・○・●・○・●・

Almost slipping down the mountain in your haste to escape your peculiar encounter with Albedo you didn't dare stop until you reached the Adventurer’s camp on the outskirts of the mountain where you finally felt the hammering of your heart slow for the first time this morning now that you had escaped the sheer cold of Dragonspine but even then with Albedo’s peculiar behaviour these past few weeks and in particular today you still couldn't feel at ease, even as you began to trudge out of the Adventurer’s camp and back towards Dadaupa Gorge.

You almost did a double take when you saw a frantic Albedo hurrying towards Dragonspine, his hand resting tightly on the hilt of his cinnabar spindle, his body tensed and ready to pounce. “...Albedo…? How did you get down here so fast?” you called out, eyeing the alchemist wearily. You had never felt more bewildered. Upon hearing you call out to him Albedo’s hand loosened on the hilt of his blade. He ran to you and wrapped you tightly in his arms, one arm wrapped around your waist so tightly it was suffocating you, the other clawed into your hair, his fingers digging into your scalp. He pulled you close as he had on the mountain however this time he buried his head into your neck as he inhaled deeply.

As you stood there embracing the startled alchemist you could feel just how intensely his hands were trembling but you couldn't help but pry for answers in your state of bewilderment. You were certain Albedo had been behind you as you descended the mountain and even if he had followed you down (which you suspected he had) how would he have gotten ahead of you? Albedo hadn’t been leaving Dragonspine when you met him here but rather he had been approaching, he had to have come from the direction of  Mondstadt. You asked louder this time “Albedo, how did you get ahead of me?” You were up on the mountain last time I saw you.” At your declaration Albedo finally peeled his from your neck, his manic eyes darting across you assessing for any damage before he finally seemed to regain some semblance of awareness “how did i… i know dragonspine like the back of my hand Y/N. it wasn’t hard to overtake you” Albedo stated trying to steady his voice. Although it’s likely the Alchemist knew the Mountain far better than you did… you didn’t fully believe him. You couldn't fully believe him. Not when you saw how terrified Albedo had seemed as he bounded towards the mountain in such a distressed state you almost didn't recognise the alchemist, not when you felt just how tightly he had clutched onto you as though you were about to slip through his fingers, not when you could feel how frantically his heart was beating as he held you to him. 

You continued to insist Albedo explain what had happened, why he had been acting so strangely. The expression in Albedo’s eyes was unreadable, something you had never seen in the chief alchemist’s eyes before, something almost reminiscent of fear. As you both traversed down galesong hill towards the city of freedom you stopped Albedo and turned him to face you as you whispered in a pleading tone “Albedo please… just explain to me what happened up there. I’m not upset with you, I'm just confused. What happened up there? You seemed rather out of sorts.” Albedo’s lips grew into a thin line, the expression on his face was a grim one but instead of any explanation he simply pressed the back of his palm to your forehead “you’re burning up” he mutters. Yet again Albedo’s actions fill you with nothing but confusion.

“Burning up? What are you talking about Albedo? I feel fine just please, answer my question” you cry out, frustration beginning to rise as he dances around your question yet again

“Yes, you’re shivering too and it’s clear you’re in a state of confusion, from these symptoms I’d estimate that you’re suffering from the early stages of hypothermia” Albedo says in an even, methodical tone

“H-hypothermia? Albedo what on Teyvat are you-?” you pause as Albedo begins to take off his coat, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders

“Honestly you should have dressed warmer if you were planning to go to Dragonstone, you need to take better care of yourself Y/N. now come on, you’ll need to be treated for this but I'll only be able to do it back in Mondstadt where we can warm you up” Albedo said wrapping his arm around your waist as he began to walk even faster towards Mondstadt, keeping you tucked closely into his side. You didn’t feel weak and you didn’t feel tired, the rational part of your mind wanted to doubt Albedo’s diagnosis but an equally significant part of you wanted to accept what Albedo said, to dismiss this whole morning as some strange illness induced hallucination. yes that must be it... You insisted internally. You’re unwell and this illness is messing with your head like Albedo says. You’re not being completely rational so right now just need to trust Albedo and head back to Mondstadt for treatment and you need to forget how Albedo keeps glaring at Dragonspine with pure loathing as though daring the mountain itself to come and try to take you from him, It must just be the cold getting to you.

[xoxochb]

daughter of athena reader x leo valdez ?

— one track mind, one track heart

warnings: friends to lovers, a bunch of architectural shit I can’t explain, ending is rushed pairing: leo valdez x daughter of athena a/n: I wasn’t sure if you wanted a fic or hcs but I thought of this fic idea so I wanted to execute it

“if we move the dressers to the right side the campers on the end won’t get one”

you point your finger to the blueprint where the bed sits against the wall. leo frowns and erases the sketch. “we could move them to the left?”

“yes, but then how would they open the drawers if it’s right beside the wall?”

“I’m… not sure”

you tap your nails against the table in thought. “I’m out of ideas. we should really just ask annabeth-”

“no!” leo cuts you off, then releasing the tone of his voice his cheeks flush pink “sorry. we can’t ask annabeth I told her I could do this”

“and I know you can. but don’t you think it would be helpful to have a third point of view on this?”

“not if that person is annabeth”

you roll your eyes and cross your arms, leaning your lower back against the table. in deep though, leo taps his fingers against the table similarly to how you had been, yet this was in code. a while back you had asked him to teach you, and happily he did so. you spent many long nights studying with him (you would be ‘pop-quizzed’ as leo called it, which basically consisted of him asking you stupid questions in code) until you mastered the wonderful arts of morse code. what he tapped know you chose to ignore, perhaps a mistake? or habit? you weren’t sure but the silence was eating you alive so you speak your next idea,

“what if we just leave the cabins as is? I know it defeats the whole purpose of remodeling but do we really need to remodel?”

leo stops his tapping. “no,” the tips of his curls ignite in tiny sparks. “but I think it would be cool to have something that we made. together”

you frown at his words. “oh leo. we have other things together! like when you taught me morse code? or in the winter when you let me sleep with you because it’s cold in my cabin? or even when we tried baking a cake for piper’s birthday but we forgot about it and it burnt”

you recall the last vividly. It was two years ago and you had been assigned to bake it, leo however, wanted to help out and who were you to say no? the beginning was fine, you successfully got all the ingredients together but when the mixing part came that was when disaster struck. leo accidental took the mixer out of the batter while it was still running and it flew all over the room including all over the both of you. after that fiasco you got the cake into the oven (finally), but after the cleaning you and leo were out cold on the kitchen floor, not found until an hour later when your sister entered to a smoke filled room with two idiots peacefully sleeping in each others arms. mr. d banned you both from going anywhere in the vicinity of the kitchen after this

“we could’ve made it onto the great british bake off with that masterpiece”

you don’t even attempt to suppress the growing smile on your lips. “right? but what I’m trying to say is that we have things, and they are far more exciting than remodeling cabins. besides,” you take his warm, tapping hand into yours, but surprised to find he averts his tapping to the back of your hand now. you suck in a breath and continue, “I’ll still love you all the same even if you can’t do this anymore”

that makes his hand stop tapping and he looks at you with wide eyes, realizing you had decoded his message. he stutters trying to form a coherent sentence, even his hands begin to spark making you yelp and pull your hand back

“oh gods! I’m sorry, I’m sorry”

leo scrambles to take your hands back into his as a silent apology. “don’t apologize, leo, it’s fine”

he pouts and inspects your hands. “are you sure? did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine, really” you confirm, but leo continues nonetheless

“if you’re hurt then I can take you to the infirmary. I’ll give you ice! does ice help with burns? it should…”

you speak his name but he doesn’t listen

“I won’t give you ice what if it makes it worse? maybe you should let will see this, he’s a great healer!”

“leo”

“do your hands hurt? they don’t look hurt but you never know…”

“leo”

“I’m really sorry, did I say that already? well I am-”

speaking doesn’t seem to be helping your case, so you close your eyes and slot your lips with his, ultimately shutting him up. when you pull away you see his hair and begun sparking again and that now he isn’t able to form a complete word. you begin to worry you read the signs wrong

“oh gods, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked, that was stupid of me I’m-”

“do it again”

your brows furrow. “what?”

“please”

In the midsts of your confusion, leo kisses you again, this time longer. but who said it ended with just two?”

[sukirichi]

SUKI SUKI? @! ÷ 2? I THINK YOU HAVE CLOSED THE REQS BUT IT OCCURRED TO ME TO ME MAGICALLY HELP. LISTEN !!!! husband bonten but the first time they met with y/n, like THE FIRST INTERACTION OF EVERYONE AND IN WHAT SITUATION DID THEY HAVE AN INSTANT CRUSH TO EACH OTHER AND EVERYTHING THAT CONTAINS?×)÷,×!",!)0273*?× ¡÷ 2 I PRAY YOU TO WRITE IT, IT DOESN'T MATTER IF IT IS IN 10 YEARS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 IM CRYINH

BONTEN MEN MEETING THEIR WIVES FOR THE FIRST TIME !! (PART ONE)

☁️ mikey, haitani ran, haitani rindou

☁️ unedited. mild angst on mikey's part. ran is technically not a first meeting, but yeah! suggestive on ran's part. fluff. cursing. mikey is lowkey a stalker. (only putting the three of them first because it was getting too long 😭)

♡ — MIKEY

It’s just another day, another mission. There’s nothing new for Mikey. And even if there was, there’s hardly anything he looks forward to now. Whether it’s a mission accomplished or mission failed, he hardly notices. His executives will take care of it, anyway. So he walks aimlessly in the streets he calls his, unafraid of the night’s darkness and the dangers it might bring – quite frankly, because he is the danger that lurks. What is there to be afraid of when he’s the worst imaginable nightmare around?

So lost in his own thoughts, it takes him a second to register the collision of his body with someone else. “I’m sorry!” a sweet voice cuts through the night air. You sound adorable and apologetic enough Mikey’s eyes light up for just a brief moment. Dark, lifeless eyes come to life as he glances at you – bowing in apology while clutching your satchel to your chest. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to–”

At any other day, Sanzu would’ve handled this for him. At any other day, Mikey would’ve let it slide and moved on because he just doesn’t care. You’re a civilian, anyway, and you knew better. No one bumps into him like this by accident. Curious, he tilts his gaze to you. There’s only one good conclusion of your unabashed expression that of guilt and genuine embarrassment – you must not have any idea who he is and treated him like you would anyone else.

He’s not the fearsome Manjiro Sano to you.

He’s just a stranger you inconvenienced, and for some reason, that soothes him. He’s not a killer in your eyes. He’s not a person who’s continuously done the wrong thing for the past few years. He’s just... him.

“It’s okay,” he replies after a moment, tucking his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie. “It’s late, though. You shouldn’t be out around this time of night. It’s dangerous.”

“Oh, I know,” you scrunch up your nose, “Gangs are running rampant and all. But this is the only time I can take a high-paying shift, and what’s the point of safety if I can’t pay my bills, right?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. He hasn’t worried about bills in a long time – Kokonoi has that covered. Instead, he nods, finding it hard to look away from you. “Stay safe, then. And if you need help, then...” Then, what? The gangs would help? Bonten would keep you safe? No, that was ridiculous. Bonten was the one thing everyone wanted to be protected from.

It hits him, then, that he is the monster that makes everyone feel unsafe. And for once in his life since he’d established Bonten, Mikey feels sick.

He doesn’t want to be the cause of your worries.

— It doesn’t take much to find out everything about you – where you work, where you live, when your shifts happen, and even silly details like what your favourite flavour or cup ramen is. He tells himself he’s doing this for your safety, and in a way, he is. You weren’t kidding when you said you take graveyard shifts because it pays the best, so upon finding out you come home really late, and go to work just as, Mikey takes it upon himself to watch from afar. Never approaching, never striking a conversation – because he doesn’t know what to say, and how could he explain he knows your routine by now – but always watching. Guarding. Protecting. He must look ominous gazing upon you from buildings afar, but he’s content with it. He thinks he can do this for as long as he likes, simply watching you from afar.

— But then he realizes he wants more.

— And he doesn’t know what ‘more’ means exactly. More time with you? You don’t even know who he is. More conversations? He’d probably stumble over his words, or make the worst jokes. Fuck. He hasn’t joked in a while. Would you even find him funny? He thinks about all day long, all night long, until you’re the only one running into his mind and he’s been so mentally checked out of his own meetings that his executives have – politely – asked him to just take a while for himself.

— So he does, and because he was never good at controlling his urges, he goes to you. He dresses a little nicer than usual; a newly ironed shirt, a good pair of jeans, and even asked Rindou to fix his hair up for him. “Going on a date?” he’d teased, but even Mikey doesn’t know how to answer that. It’s not a date, but he’d be damned if he let another day go by that you didn’t know his name.

— He introduced himself, rather awkwardly, and pretends like he didn’t come to your work on purpose. “I didn’t know you worked here,” he says, and it couldn’t be a bigger lie. But you just smile up at him like you’re happy to see him, like you’ve been hoping to meet again, and for a moment, Mikey lets himself believe that it could be true. Maybe he deserves that smile. Maybe someone actually wants to see him. He lingers on that delusion long enough that he’s matched his routine with yours – walking you back home, letting you talk about how much you hate your boss, and hate your sleazy customers even more. It’s not easy being a waitress, especially when you’re forced to wear tight-fitting clothes with the intention of attracting customers. And it gets to him. The darkness and rage he’s been letting quietly simmer beneath his veins as to not scare you off finally resurfaces.

— He hates it all – hates how you’re in such an unfortunate situation, and there’s only so little he could do. Until he realizes he’s the Manjiro Sano. After sending in Sanzu to deal with your boss, who may or may not have been gently blackmailed into treating you better and giving you higher pay or else, Mikey notices the weight being lifted off your shoulder. You’ve started smiling more and even invite him to your place one time to celebrate your ‘fortunes.’

“Are you sure?” he asks rather warily, “I mean, it’s late at night.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you reassure him, and lead him inside your home. He almost feels bad for you for being so unaware. You don’t have the slightest idea you’re bringing a killer in the safety of your home, but he doesn’t get the chance to dwell on it when you turn on the lights. He’s greeted by your homey apartment, a little cluttered, a little messy, and it’s a little small for you that he can’t imagine would be comfortable – but it’s yours, and you’re proud of it. Pulling out a mat, you tell him to make himself at home while you prepare some celebratory snacks. They’re nothing fancy – mostly chips, cheap wine, and a few hardened candies.

It’s probably the worst timing to realize he’s falling in love.

First of all, there’s nothing romantic about watching you lean against the counter, humming to yourself as you pop open the wine. Second of all, you don’t look enticing or seductive. Not in your mismatched pyjamas and even more hilariously mismatched socks. But you are enticing – from the way your throat vibrates at your humming, to your quick, swift movements preparing the snacks. You look so at home, so content, that he can’t help but want that for himself. Want you for himself. He wants you at his place and to decorate it as you wish. He wants you to liven it up and scatter knick-knacks all over his room. He wants your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom. He wants you – wants all of you – from your crumpled shirt, to your aching shoulders after a long day at work, wants to kiss it all better for you.

He wants you.

And when the Bonten Head wants something, he will get it.

— If someone told him that a few years from now that his silly musings at three in the morning would finally come true, he’d have scoffed at them. But this is his reality is now, and how he’ll spend the rest of his life.

You’re standing next to him in his bathroom, brushing your teeth while simultaneously humming to yourself. He’s heard the melody enough to have memorized it. And when he’s having a hard day, he sings it to himself, although it never sounds as good like when you do it. The tune is comforting, a reminder you’re in his life now, that everything’s worked out. You married him, and he couldn’t be a happier man.

“Something wrong, Manjiro?” you ask after rinsing your mouth, turning to him with a hand on your hips. Stern, yet unbelievably gentle. Cupping his cheeks with your hands, he melts. “Tell me. How can I make it better?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, and it’s the truth. The moment is all too perfect. You’re here with him, you’re safe, and you’ve loved him after everything he’s done. “Just wanna hold you.”

You break him to it. Lunging into his arms, you giggle and bury yourself around his neck, knowing full well he’ll catch you. Mikey laughs, too, but it’s quieter, more reserved, the sound nearly muted because your skin is pressing against his so hard that it becomes hard to fathom there was ever a time he felt he wasn’t worth of love. And maybe he still isn’t. He still has Bonten, he still has horrible urges, he still gets the demanding itch to kill and hurt – but you’re there, in his arms, and he feels the darkness slowly simmer into tamed shadows.

♡ — HAITANI RAN

Ran is not subtle with his feelings. He believes in the beauty and art of flirting, of holding one’s gazes for just a second longer than what was considered polite, the fleeting, yet burning touches one could pass off as innocent. He’s had enough experience in his life to have mastered it. He’s handsome, he’s irresistible, and he knows it. Beauty and charm is a weapon he wasn’t ashamed of wielding, especially not around his current flavour of the month – or more like months, now. He’s played this game of tic tac toe with you, this push and pull, for so long that he feels he’ll lose his mind.

Like everyone else in Bonten, he usually gets what he wants. But you’re different. You’re attracted to him – that much he knows – but you’re the one responsible for all of Bonten’s uniform and suits that your attraction borders just on the edge of professionalism. But he knows. Oh, he knows. You aren’t so subtle yourself.

Each time he comes around for a fitting, your lips twitch as if you’re fighting back a smile. He also doesn’t fail to notice how you’re gesturing around to your staff in the shop to give you two ‘privacy.’ Bonten executive or not, Ran isn’t foolish – he knows he’s the only one receiving this special treatment. Knows you don’t touch your other clients like this – with a perfectly manicured nail grazing down his arm, your eyes lidded with lust, your blood-red lips caught between your teeth.

It makes Ran yearn.

He wants those same claws to run down scratches behind his back. He wants to take those lips into his mouth, instead, to have you ruin his suits by staining it with your lipstick on his collar, his neck, his tie, his pants. It’d give him more of a reason to come back, anyway. But you just had to be so professional that he always leaves the shop with his pants feeling tighter than ever, his lungs constricted because it becomes hard to breathe around you, yet feeling so addicted to the high of having you so close, yet so far away.

“You should come back for another fitting,” you call out to him just as he swings the door open. He freezes. He’s always the one scheduling a fitting. Unable to help it, he shuts the door and locks it, smirking to himself when he hears the vague hitching of your breath behind the counter.

“And why is that?”

“Oh, you know,” you manage to tease, but ah. He can see right through you. Even with your nonchalant facade, he can tell he’s getting under your veins with every step he takes to close the distance between you. Damn the counter. Damn any customers who might be waiting outside. For now, there’s only him and you, and he thinks he may damn well truly ruin his pants when you look up at him with eyes blown wide with want. With need.

He wishes you could just let go and give in.

“I, in fact, don’t know. But do care to enlighten me,” leaning down, he rests his arms against the counter, glad to finally be at your eye level. You’re prettier in this angle, which baffles him, because you’re already so pretty enough it hurts. And he can’t help but wonder if you’d look a hundred times better in... different angles. An angle under him, perhaps, where you’re helpless and forced to clutch his biceps while you hold on for dear life. Because Ran guarantees once he gets his hands on you, he’s never letting go.

“I just think,” with narrowed eyes, he feels your heated gaze travel from his face that’s inches away from yours down to his chest, and to the bulge constricted around his pants. You let out a breathy sound at the sight of it, his body responding by growing even harder. “Your pants are too tight for you now. Perhaps we should make you a better one?”

“I have other ways in mind in which we could resolve this problem. Preferably one that doesn’t consist of measuring tapes,” he raises his brow, watches as you slowly unfold and unravel right at his palms. It’s almost satisfying. Almost. He’s wanted you for so long that frustration is more what he feels right now, and impatience. “Although I’m not entirely against using ropes.”

♡ — HAITANI RINDOU

Rindou doesn’t concern himself with civilians. He has better things to do, and after a long day, he’s more than ready to just plop himself into bed and wake up only when the world is ending. Or, he could just let it end, too. He couldn’t care any less. Unfortunately for him, though, the universe has different plans for him that night. He just wanted to get a damned drink, for fuck’s sake, until he hears screaming and the shuffling of feet as soon as he steps out of the convenience store.

“Stop him!” someone squeals, the cry helpless and desperate. From where he stood, wine bottle on one hand, he could see the figure of a man running with what seemed like a bag clutched to his chest. “Someone help, please!”

Rindou sighs. There’s nothing more that he hates more than petty crimes that are more inconveniences than impactful. Before he could register what he’s doing, Rindou’s arm extended out in front of himself, and within the blink of an eye, the thief whizzing past him had been caught by the collar. The thief struggles against his hold, whining and thrashing with curses thrown his way.

“Let me fucking go, you oaf!”

“I don’t think so,” Rindou tips his head to the side just as a figure appeared behind the thief. You stand there, wheezing to catch your breath with your hands on your knees. At the sight of him effortlessly restraining the thief, you break out into a relieved sigh and snatch back your bag, holding it more possessively. And oh, aren’t you just pretty? With your skin layered with a sheen of sweat from all that running, cheeks damp with tears, your frown now replaced with a grateful smile – Rindou feels like you’re the thief. “Whoa. Careful with that smile, sweetheart.”

Your brows furrow, and he nearly groans. It should be a crime for someone to look so adorably confused. “What?”

“Okay, that’s enough, they got their bag back, now let me go!”

Right. He still had a lame excuse of a criminal on his hand. With a roll of his eyes, Rindou throws the man against to the ground until he’s coughing out blood from when he hit the pavement. He hears you gasp, and it makes him wince. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh. You’re probably afraid of him now.

“Run along,” he warns the petty thief, and he didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the man disappears, Rindou turns to you, a lazy smile making its way into his face. “You know, I usually hate being troubled, but this might be the first time I don’t mind as much.”

Your jaw drops. You look around frantically in your bag for a moment, and just when he thinks you can’t get anymore interesting, you pull out a wad of cash and shove it to him. Rindou cocks a brow. “And what is that for, sweetheart?”

“To-to thank you for saving me! And it’s also an apology because I troubled you...”

Rindou fights the urge to scoff. “I feel like I should be offended,” he says in a sing-song manner, only because you don’t take the teasing well, and the sight of you stumbling over your words is already making his night. He wants to reassure you it’s no trouble at all, that he’ll easily catch all your thieves for you, or that you can steal his heart and never give it back to him. But he doesn’t, because he’s just met you, and maybe, just maybe, he’s curious how this will go.

“Oh, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Say, if you really want to thank me, why don’t we share this?” he lifts his wine bottle, and you eye it for a moment before nodding eagerly. His heart drops. He lowers the bottle, his voice growing darker – yet make no mistake. Behind his scowl and hardened eyes, his heart is beating a mile a minute, and his skin is burning impossibly hot. “Don’t you think you say yes a little too easily?”

“Uhm, but you saved me. You helped me, and this is how you want to be thanked.”

Rindou thinks his brain might short-circuit. You are definitely trouble.

“I could be more dangerous than him, you know,” he leans toward you menacingly to prove a point, but you don’t cower. Your breath hitches, and you clutch your bag tighter. But you don’t move away, and neither can he. Now that he’s closer, he can smell your strawberry scented perfume and he shuts his eyes, greedily inhaling the scent. Shit. He hasn’t even drunk anything, and he already feels intoxicated. Taking a step back for his own sanity, Rindou levels you a warning glare. “You really should be more careful, sweet. Perhaps it’ll lower the chances of you running into trouble.”

“Oh,” you look dejected, though he could just be imagining it. “Yeah, okay, uh... I’ll be more careful. Thank you again...?”

“Rindou.”

“Rindou,” you repeat, and he realizes his name sounds sweeter when you say. With a scrunch of your nose, you eye the wine in his hands again. “Will I see you again? I really want to thank you for your help.”

With such a sweet offer, how can he resist? He’d be stupid to say no – even if you were trouble, it’s fine. He wasn’t notorious for being a troublemaker for no reason anyway.

[strangesmallbard]

pondering an asoiaf war of the five kings au where ned decides to tell robert about cersei/jaime (maybe his death was less imminent or ned believes he’s honor-bound to tell him before he signs that document about joffrey), and in response, robert pulls an aegon 4 and legitimizes all his bastards right before kicking it. he tasks ned with finding and protecting his heir, conveniently not mentioning who that heir is.

of course, much would stay the same after that. for example: joffrey still executes ned, sansa is imprisoned, arya flees the red keep, etc. i think cersei still orders robert’s now trueborn kids killed, but with more urgency; news of the legitimization travels fast (varys helps spread it to destabilize the lannisters even more in preparation for young griff), so cersei and co have to work double time to refute the rumors and bury the evidence (the kids).

beyond robert’s kids, the biggest story change would be stannis’ arc. i think he’d also send people to find robert’s kids; he specifically wants to find robert’s eldest trueborn son, but instructs all newly baratheon kids sent to dragonstone. however, i think it’d be interesting if renly, rather than making his own claim, decides to throw his support behind edric storm. after all, a noble bastard could be more readily accepted and he’d have five years as his regent. to bolster edric’s claim, renly begins searching for the kids as well.

as a result, you have Many People looking for kids with black hair and blue eyes. i think gendry (+arya, hot pie, weasel, and lommy) wind up at dragonstone. lysa immediately sends mya there as well, not wanting the war on her doorstep, but she’s intercepted by renly’s team, who promptly take her to storm’s end. (mya’s pov chapter is vivid in my head; as she’s very comfortable in her role and responsibilities at the vale + she’s technically the eldest sibling overall, her perspective on Suddenly Being a Princess could be really interesting).

i’m unsure where bella rivers ends up; maybe she’s the only bastard found by cersei’s guards? i can’t think of a reason cersei would keep her alive except to psychologically torment her like she does sansa, but sansa already has that arc. OH maybe she’s the one who winds up with the brotherhood without banners instead of gendry? (i think gendry ends up there either way; him and arya sneak out of dragonstone at some point).

anyway, aside from plot points i haven’t quite worked out the “why” factor. why change these events? what is the overall purpose? which themes could be illuminated with this change? does this change affect jon’s story at the wall or dany’s story in meereen at all? and so on. but if this au has inspired any ideas (even lore corrections LMAO), i’d love to hear them!

[darylbae]

would you write smth for daryl x reader where reader had to fight her way out of one of the outposts and can’t stop scrubbing her hands. to the point where the skin is really sore. maybe he kisses the tops of her hands. washing them one more time at her ask. but gently with warm soapy water. maybe he puts cream on them and wraps them in a bandage.

what if it gets worse — daryl dixon🩰

in which you can't seem to get the blood off your hands, but daryl is there to help

note: i hope this is what you meant anon

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

This felt too far. Even for you. You had killed too many walkers to count, you weren't the sweetest like Beth once was, you could drive straight past a helpless man. But the plan you were currently driving to execute, was too far for you. You sat with your hands in your lap, trying to stop them from trembling. You were tough, everyone knew it, you knew it. But this felt like you were driving to your death. There was no coming back from this. The RV you were driving in was dark, the air was unsettling, nobody would talk above a whisper. Turn back, Abe. Please. Realize this is a mistake. You were pulled out of your thoughts by Daryl, who laced his fingers around yours. The two of you had always been on the same frequency, it's why you bonded as close as you were. You were the same person in different fonts, but you differed where it mattered. Daryl could feel you were in your own head. He wanted this matter dealt with, he wanted to go back to pretending to hate Alexandria. He wanted his only problem to be fitting in. Not this. You felt a war looming, a deep, dark black hole about to suck you in. Something bad was going to happen. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow. "Hey," his voice was small, only for you to hear, "you're okay." He brought your hand up to his mouth, peppering small kisses to your knuckles, which were turning white with your grip on his hand. Anything to steady your own nerves. Your hand was small in his, his fingers twice the width of yours. You enjoyed observing his hands, his arms, his smile. Studying Daryl had been your favorite pastime. "Remember when we almost crashed on my bike once because you wouldn't stop tickling me?" He questioned, seeing the sides of your mouth rise into a sweet smile. "There's that smile." The RV had come to a stop and your quick-lived happiness had died. You took hold of the knife in your lap, letting everyone pile off before you did. Daryl took the moment of silence to touch your cheek and bring you into a small kiss. "You can do this." You weren't so sure. Rick had been through the plan, each of you with a role to do. Hide in the van, wait until they're alone, go in for the kill, storm the building.

And you did just that. You escaped having to kill the first two, all you did was storm the building with them. You'd all split into two, you'd gone alongside Daryl, and you were instructed to kill these people in their sleep. People, bad people, who had no idea tonight was their last night. You knew they were terrible people, the pictures on their walls were only a fraction of evidence, but weren't you also just as bad? Killing walkers was one thing, this was an entirely new level of fucked up. The squelch as you'd sunk the knife into their temple made you cringe, and blood had come pooling out. Your first instinct was to reach for it and cover it up, and in doing so, blood had covered your fingers and palms in thick, red blood. You felt nauseous, the knife in your hand feeling close to slipping, you made made a mess of this. The rest of the outpost was the same, knife through the temple, the occasional sounds of bullets thwipping past you to enter the bodies of some unfortunate Saviors. The shakes had spread, your knees almost buckling from the insecurity of your feet. Daryl was quick to notice and wrap an arm around you, securing you against him. "I got ya, sweetheart. Come on." His voice was the only thing you could hear, his arms were the only thing you could feel, and you'd walked with him out onto the open field surrounding the outpost. Daylight was starting to show, you'd heard a radio going off... Something about Maggie and Carol... You'd fallen to your knees to recollect yourself, everyone's heads turning to locate where this mysterious radio caller was. Your brain was off, your body was on. The group on the radio had taken Maggie and Carol to a slaughterhouse, and managed to fight their way out, to your relief. You couldn't take another death on your hands. The blood on your hands had dried, stained between the grooves of your fingerprints. You couldn't look at your hands without feeling sick, but Daryl could happily take your hands in his and distract you. It's something he'd grown to be good at. He shuffled closer into you, pulling your legs over his, and gesturing to his shoulder. "Come 'ere, girl." But you couldn't stop staring at your hands. The blood cracking and flaking on your hands, the feeling of sliding the knife into their brain haunted you. Even as you'd arrived back in Alexandria, you hadn't stopped to tell the tale to others, you'd broken off from the group the moment you left the RV. It wasn't until you were in the home you shared with Daryl, that the tears had started to fall. They were terrible people, you kept reminding yourself. But it wasn't enough.

You'd pushed yourself into the bathroom, rinsing your hands under the taps and scrubbing at your skin. You'd used a scourer, and rag, all of which needed to be binned afterwards. The blood kept flowing through your hands, out of the taps, covering you in guilt. The blood wouldn't wash off. Daryl had finally got himself back, a worried heartbeat echoing in his chest as to your disappearance. In the distance, he heard the tap running and assumed you were getting yourself ready for bed. But the worry hadn't settled. Even before breaching the outpost, you had that look in your eye. Daryl knew you. In and out. He could find you in the dark. He could tell when things weren't right. So when he'd seen you in the midst of a full Lady Macbeth breakdown, he'd dropped everything. All of his own worries and anxieties. Nothing mattered more to him than you. He took your hands in his, seeing pale red water from the residue on your hands, and it all clicked. "Please, Dar," you cried softly, "help me get it off." Daryl's eyebrows wobbled at the sight of you, emotion threatening to expose itself. He'd grabbed a towel, wrapping your hands in it tightly and sitting you down on his lap on the bathroom floor. You sobbed against his chest, the warmth of his skin would usually comfort you, but you couldn't settle. Not even in the safety of your home, or the walls surrounding your community. Daryl couldn't say it's okay, it wasn't. Nothing about this was okay, but the most he could do was hold you. Give you his company.

And you did, the pair of you sat quietly together until your sobs had reduced to little sniffles. Daryl's hands held you tightly to his body, and that alone had been enough to keep you from descending further into this breakdown. "Dar," you spoke, voice cracking and sadness still stuck in your throat. He looked up, his sorrowful eyes upon yours and you knew he'd do anything for you. No matter the time of day or the complexity of what you wanted, you knew he'd do it for you. "Please wash my hands for me. I need it to be gone." He nodded, helping you and himself up to lean over the sink once more. He'd plugged the sink and filled it with warm, soapy water, submerging the both of your hands. His fingers slid over your hands, massaging the soap into all the crevices, and under your nails. He made sure to be thorough, and used a new towel to pat your hands dry. They looked sore, red raw from the scrubbing. "Come on," Daryl whispered, leading you into your shared room, reaching for the selection of creams you kept on the nightstand. He'd taken care of you, silently and efficiently making sure you were okay, not a word to be exchanged between the two of you. You'd climbed back into his lap, head on his shoulder and you felt a little more eased. Not entirely okay, but safer with Daryl. "What if this gets worse?" You asked, glancing up at his eyes which were already fixed on yours. "Then you got me to protect ya," he replied, "I won' let a thing hurt ya, not a hair on ya head. Okay?"

[coralinnii]

I have a request for the villainess AU. For Ace and Deuce, what if it was a love triangle between the MC? I just can’t imagine them being separated because them fighting over the Mc is much funnier!

❋ Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy ❋

↳ Love Triangle scenario(?)

feat: Ace and Deuce

genre: humour, budding romance, friends-to-something more?

note: part of the “Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy” series or the Villain/ess au, part of the 2.7k followers event, references to other villain/ess au works (specifically Riddle ver.), Ace + Deuce + reader are old enough to drink, no pronouns used with reader, minor mention of death

I don’t usually do the love triangle trope because real life ones hurt alot and it brings up some bad memories, but I’ll consider it for this, just for y’all~ I genuinely tried but rather than a love triangle, I may have accidentally created a… (seriously was not my intention)

Villain/ess au Series Masterlist

2.7K Followers Writing Event

Before the oath of the sword, the three of you made an oath of your own. One of unquestioned trust and camaraderie. No matter where the string of fate would take either of you, the promise made one drunken night between you, Ace, and Deuce was stronger.

That night was fuelled with unrestrained emotions, with shouting and tears, most coming from you. Especially when you awoke one day with strange visions flooded your dreams, vivid images that spoke of a horrible future for you.

Memories of a strange novel, one that eerily resembles your current world down to each royal family member and even your friends’ lives. But while a hero’s glory awaits your dearest ones, you were left as a tragic minor antagonist.

A mere childhood friend of Ace and Deuce, you became jealous of a former baron’s daughter suddenly turned Queen when she grew close to your friends as her knight escorts. You turned to petty acts in response, spewing nasty rumours among the townfolks of the new Queen but like an angelic protagonist, she revealed your misdeeds but forgave you for your childish taunts. Nevertheless, you lost the respect of your only friends and you were left behind.

But despite the Queen’s pardon, King Riddle heard of your disgraceful behaviour against his beloved and called for your immediate execution, which became the final push for Ace and Deuce to join in the Queen’s rebellion against her own tyrannical husband. Because that’s all you were, a mere catalyst for the story to continue on.

You couldn’t imagine yourself turning into a cliche bully and admittedly, the idea of your untimely demise left you shaking in fear on occasion. But the worst of your premonitory dreams was the predicted end of your friendship.

The looks of disgust and disappointment that painted Ace’s and Deuce’s face seared into your mind, your heart shattering like glass at their wishes to never see you again. The fear of abandonment stings you like a crack in your heart which never healed, it scared you to the point that the moment you saw them happily enjoying the night, you drunkenly cried out.

“I love you so much, please don’t leave me.”

Unceremoniously, your body slumped onto the tavern’s table as you blacked out into an alcoholic slumber. How evil of you, conveniently unable to explain what you meant by your slurred confession, or to whom you were referring to.

Ace and Deuce were visibly distracted during their knight training the morning after, one of the few times that they must separate from you. Your words looping over and over in their heads like an endless echo. Your voice pleaded so sincerely with tears cascading down your cheeks.

“What should we do, Ace?” Deuce broke the awkward silence during their water break, finally taking a step to mention the elephant in the room. Your words that resembled a wistful confession struck him with worry (and a hint of budding hope). But unlike him, Ace was quick to look for possible excuses for your actions.

“Don’t be dumb. It was probably just the alcohol talking. Don’t you remember how much we all drank?” The reddish hue of Ace’s cheeks however betrayed his true emotions. In truth, he was just as frazzled by your words as Deuce was. He kept trying to convince himself that you meant nothing by it, to not get his hopes up. But the little devil on his shoulder whispers in his ear, “but what if you did mean something by it?”

Since then, you felt that your time spent with the duo increased since your last outing. Instead of staying back in the knight’s barracks right after training, Ace and Deuce visited your hometown more often that was not the most convenient travel destination. You felt at least one pair of eyes, either sea blue or rose red or both, watching you before turning away when you tried to catch their gaze.

But it seems that some people did noticed something different with the two young men, specifically their family. Deuce’s mother would smile knowingly at you whenever you drop by to offer some assistance in her business, occasionally mentioning how much her son has grown. Funnily enough, Ace’s older brother mentioned something similar about the redhead, though it was more laced with a teasing tone than one of filial affection.

But you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. You enjoyed the frequent visits of your best friends, especially knowing they will be even busier when the announcement of a new royal member would take your precious moments with them. Rumours were spread about the town of a mysterious figure locked in a tower which were not part of your memories, but your wary heart kept you mindful of the possible news regarding the imperial family.

Your worries intensified when Ace and Deuce announced their new task once dawn breaks, they were to escort the newest addition to the royal family back to the palace. In an attempt to quell your unease, you made an embarrassing request.

“You want to do what?” A bright red hue on Deuce’s face heavily contrasted with his raven blue hair, but you were no position to tease him as you could assume that your embarrassed complexion was no better. “Y-You mean…you…and us…”

The three of you lost track of time chatting and goofing off in your quarters and didn’t realize how the sun has long gone to rest for the night. Instead of returning to their own home, you asked if the two knights were willing to stay over the night, like in your younger days. Back when you three were more used to wooden swords than ones of steel, when your only worry was if your parents were going to cook your favourites that night.

Back when you three shared the same bed together.

“It’s not that crazy of a request…” you pouted but you supposed it was rather absurd to ask your friends, who old enough to be considered men, something so childish. Perhaps those carefree days are truly long gone.

“I’m not opposed to it” Ace gave his signature cheeky smile as he naturally wrapped his arm around your shoulder, slightly leaning his weight onto you. “If you just can’t help but miss our company, we can have a good ol’ slumber party. Just like old times~”

You’re starting to reconsider your request.

But Ace wasn’t done. “Well, it’s not exactly like old times. We’re definitely bigger than back when we were kids”

The redhead was obviously right. The three of you were nothing like the tiny versions of you in the past, and your best friends have certainly bulked up since they started their journey into knighthood. You tried your best but you couldn’t help but gaze in appreciation of the hard work the two of them did to build the stamina and muscles to protect their kingdom, respectfully of course.

“I doubt that all three of us can fit on your teeny little bed.” the scarlet-eyed knight exaggerated his point by squinting his fingers to describe your bed. “I guess Deucey’s just gonna have to go home for tonight.”

“Hey, wait a minute! Why me?!” Deuce snapped out from his flustered daze to glare at Ace, pulling his shaggy-haired companion by the neck of his shirt. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

Ace remained unperturbed, too used to the blunette’s burst of anger “It’s nothing personal, buddy. But you grind your teeth real loud at night. How is any of us gonna get any sleep?”

“Well you’re a pain to wake up in the morning!” Deuce angrily countered. “Don’t make it our problem to get your ass up tomorrow.”

You watched your best friends bicker and argue, as if you didn’t already know of their terrible sleeping habits. Sure, Deuce grinds his teeth but you always tried to gently soothe his jaw hoping to relax him. Ace may sleep like the dead but his cute little pout every time he finally wakes up makes the effort all worth it to you.

They were idiots, but they were your idiots.

“Will you both stop fighting already?” Ace and Deuce immediately paused as your voice caught their attention, like it always does. “No one’s gotta leave. My bed is not that small, you know?”

To prove your point, you took each of the boy’s hand and led them without issue. For someone as tall and built as them, they were so easy to pull and push as you please. Carefully, you pressed your hands against their chest to push them backwards onto your bed. You then crawled onto the bed yourself between Ace and Deuce, the men automatically shifting their bodies to make space for you.

Satisfied, you laid onto your back and you took the hand of both men, each of your hand snuggly holding their warm, calloused ones. You smiled brightly at the fuzzy feelings of nostalgia bubbling in you, pressing your joining hands to your chest, atop of your beating heart.

“See, no one needs to leave.” your bright eyes looked up to your favourite people, cheeky joy evident in your gaze.

A rare occurrence, the two chatty troublemakers were left speechless. In their defence, they were too busy trying to contain the burst of happiness in their hearts to reply back to you, barely pushing the redness of their cheeks at bay.

[drakorn]

Rewriting Veilguard Part 1 - The World State

Disclaimer: I don't hate the game, I actually think it's quite great given the development hell Bioware went through in those 10 years. This is more of a hypothetical universe where there was less of that behind the scenes drama. Just a fun writing exercise.

Expanding Veilguard's World State Editor

Like many of us, I was disappointed with the total amount of choices carrying over from past games being only three, one of which dealt with romance, two with decisions made in the Trespasser DLC, and all of them being from Inquisition. This already set the precedent that we shouldn’t really be expecting the game to be as connected to our unique Thedas as we have come to be used to from previous titles—no more uniquely flavoured codex entries, no more small but sweet cameos here and there that make the world itself feel like a larger place that we had helped shape.

Given The Veilguard’s very troubled production history of multiple delays, staff layoffs, and all-around restarts of the entire project, it is honestly a surprise that we even got three choices, so credit where credit is due. They made with what they had. But what if The Veilguard had this vision from the start? What if there wasn’t any of this meddling? What if Bioware simply had more time and control? What if they could truly let us import the World State this game deserved?

Now, for this hypothetical rewritten playthrough, I’m going off from the fact that the Dragon Age Keep will not be used; I actually found it a neat idea to tick my three choices in the character creator, and it would have probably been better had Inquisition done something similar. Why do I think that? Because it means we are not running into any dangers of servers potentially shutting down, leaving us trapped in the canon we happened to have imported last. Converting the Keep into an offline editor was a good idea, but unfortunately not executed nearly enough as, let’s face it, we all expected. So we’re gonna have some fun for Veilguard.

Disclaimer: I’m going to refer to the game’s title as Veilguard from now on, not “the” Veilguard. I really don’t like the change of having a “the” in a series of otherwise one-word, or one-number, titles.

Of course, we have to be realistic about this. It is virtually impossible to implement every single decision from across all three games, and those that can be implanted can’t alter the main plot too much. Certainly, we like to imagine and picture things, but let’s approach this from an actually doable point of view.

Right, so imagine you just finalised your Rook, and then get a screen titled “Past Adventures”. Not just “The Inquisition”. And it would take up the entire screen instead of being shoved somewhere in the corner of the final CC page, which many people missed. I could have missed it too, had I not known beforehand that it was going to be there!

It would say something akin to “You can customise the protagonists and several events from the games Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age II, and Dragon Age: Inquisition. These choices will have both major and minor effects on the plot of Veilguard. If this is your first Dragon Age title, you would be advised to skip this section for now, as you may otherwise risk getting overwhelmed. A default World State has been pre-generated for the game.”

Why did I add this disclaimer? Because it would show us, right from the get-go, that we respect both new and old players. If you’re a new player, feel free to skip this part as it won’t matter to you anyway and, quite frankly, you wouldn’t want to spend an eternity in the character creator doing things you might not even be familiar with. But if you’re a returning player or someone who has read up on recaps and watched countless lore videos, come on right in, we’ve got you covered, don’t worry! We know how much time you spent meticulously crafting your World State for Inquisition, so join us and customise to your heart’s content.

If you choose to not skip ahead (honestly the only time I would click “skip” on that shit is if I was a new player), you will be presented with three tarot cards, one shows the griffon, the Grey Warden symbol, one shows Kirkwall’s heraldry, and one shows the Inquisition’s banner. Here’s your previous three games. And now we get to customise them a little. The little gremlin in me would be quite gleefully rubbing his hands at this prospect.

Past Adventures: The Blight

We open the first slide and are immediately hit with a crimson screen and an ambient reprise of several of Inon Zur’s themes from DAO. I loved this part in the game, when you click to customise your Inquisitor and are immediately hit with “Calling the Inquisition”. Really great stuff for early emotions. Now let’s actually customise things.

The Hero of Ferelden

I do not expect us to actually be able to recreate the Warden in the flesh, but I believe they should be at least brought up in conversation or mentioned in codex entries and letters. Here are the things we get to customise about them specifically:

The Hero: Here, we get to tick the race, gender, class, and background for our Warden. Again, no character creator, just fancy tarot cards. But guess what? That would already be more than enough for what we can do. At least we know the game acknowledges their continued existence.

The Warden’s fate: Did the Hero of Ferelden perform the ultimate sacrifice?

Romance: Who did your Warden romance, if at all?

The Companions

Now that our Warden is set, we jump over to DAO’s companions. Each companion has their own little mini-section. The first few questions will always be “Did you even recruit them? And if so, did they survive? If so, were you on good terms or not?” These questions, depending on the answers, will immediately lock or open the more specific ones. Which are, as follows:

Did the Warden have Morrigan perform the Dark Ritual?

What is Alistair’s ultimate fate?

Was Sten reunited with his sword?

What happened to Loghain?

What happened to Marjorlaine?

The Battle of Ostagar

What happened to the prisoner at Ostagar?

The Arl of Redcliffe

What is Connor’s fate?

Is Isolde alive?

Did you help Bevin and return his sword?

The Urn of Sacred Ashes

What happened to the Urn?

The Nature of the Beast

How was the situation between the Dalish and the werewolves resolved?

A Paragon of Her Kind

What happened to the Anvil of the Void?

Who rules Orzammar?

Did the Warden help Brother Burkel create a Chantry in Orzammar?

Did the Warden prove the Legion of the Dead was connected to a noble house?

Did Orta join the Assembly?

Warden’s Keep

What happened to Sophia and Avernus?

Denerim

Did the Warden complete Slim Couldry’s crime wave?

Who rules Ferelden?

Who killed Urthemiel?

Awakening

What happened to Nathaniel?

What happened to the Architect?

What happened to Vigil’s Keep and Amaranthine?

As you can see, I have not included all the choices, just the ones I think can be carried over in both realistic and interesting manners. Not all of them will heavily feature in the game; in fact, many of them are for flavour and codex entries only, but there is still merit in those. We know there is a whole lot of stuff happening in the South thanks to the letters the Inquisitor regales us with. So let’s put some world-state uniqueness to those letters. But in this rewrite, some of these choices will, in fact, feature in a more substantial manner.

And that’s Dragon Age: Origins done! Moving on to the next one!

Past Adventures: The Tale of the Champion

When we enter this screen, the CC assumes Kirkwall’s orangey-yellow tone and we get a reprisal of the key DA2 themes by Inon Zur, the most prominent one being, of course, Hawke’s family theme. This one is not going to be as big as DAO, but there are a few important factors nevertheless, especially concerning possible deaths and survivals.

The Champion of Kirkwall

Unlike the Hero of Ferelden, Hawke will actually be customisable in this one. Because no matter whether or not they were sent to the Fade or Weisshaupt, there is always the potential for them to still be alive. So, here are the choices regarding Hawke:

The Champion: Here you can customise Hawke’s gender, class, and personality.

Who did Hawke romance, if at all?

The Party

Pretty much every companion’s card, aside from a few, will have the questions “Did you recruit them?”, “Are they still alive?”, and “Were they friend or rival to Hawke?” at the forefront. Most of it is gonna be flavour, but it’s still my flavour, dammit!

What happened to Bethany or Carver?

What happened to Isabela and the Tome of Koslun?

What happened to Fenris and Danarius?

What happened to Merrill, her eluvian, and Clan Sabrae?

What happened to Bartrand?

What happened to Anders when the Chantry exploded?

Did Hawke approve of Anders' actions?

Did Aveline marry Donnic?

The Tale of the Champion

Did Hawke protect the Bone Pit from all its dangers?

What happened to Feynriel?

Did Hawke let Zevran go?

Did Nathaniel survive?

Did Hawke side with the mages or the templars?

Fewer choices are carrying over here compared to DAO, but many of the events that occurred in DA2 are only relevant to Kirkwall’s immediate fate, which is already resolved by the time of DAI. Many of these will be flavour again, but some of them, I’m not going to say which, will definitely have a bigger impact.

Right, we’re done with DA2, let’s move on to the last one!

Past Adventures: The Inquisition

And here we get to the big one, the game that most directly impacts much of DAV’s story. We click on the last page and get the green shades and DAI’s ambience themes, a beautiful reprisal of Trevor Morris’ great hits. I would like to once again reiterate how emotional the CC music made me feel here when I was playing the game. Let us now customise our choices.

The Inquisitor

While the Hero of Ferelden will be a background figure in letters and codex entries, and Hawke more of a minor character with a significant role, the Inquisitor will have a much larger presence. Just how large, you’ll find out soon. But for now, let’s customise them:

The Inquisitor: Here you can customise your Inquisitor’s race, gender, class, and specialisation. Their personality as well, for while it wasn’t as apparent as with Hawke, the Inquisitor does still have a distinct range of dialogue choices. You can still be diplomatic, lighthearted, or even rough.

Who did the Inquisitor romance, if at all?

The Inner Circle

As with the other companion sections, pretty much all slides here will feature the “Did you actually recruit them?”, “Are they still around?”, and “Are you friends or not?” questions. Alongside a few specific ones that will definitely have more of an impact here.

Did Dorian resolve the issue with his father?

What happened to Blackwall?

Did the Iron Bull remain loyal to the Qun?

Did Cassandra rebuild the Seekers of Truth?

Did Cassandra discover the book of secrets and what did she do with it?

What happened to Harmond?

Which path did Cole choose?

What happened to Solas’ friend?

Did Varric track down the red lyrium source?

Did the Inquisitor give Vivienne the heart of a snow wyvern?

How was Cullen’s lyrium dilemma resolved?

How did the Inquisitor help Josephine resolve her family’s fortunes?

Was Leliana hardened or softened?

The Path of the Inquisitor

Did the Inquisitor embrace or denounce their title of Herald of Andraste?

Did the Inquisition side with the mages or the templars?

What was the general principle upon which the Inquisition was founded?

Who rules Orlais?

Who stayed behind in the Fade?

What happened to the Grey Wardens after Adamant Fortress?

What happened to Samson or Calpernia?

Who drank from the Well of Sorrows?

Did the Inquisitor respect the rituals at the Temple of Mythal?

Who became Divine Victoria?

The Inquisition’s Influence

Did the Inquisitor ally with the Hinterland cultists?

Was the rift in Crestwood closed?

Was Caer Bronach captured?

Did the Inquisitor make a deal with Imshael?

Was Suledin Keep captured?

Was Griffon Wing Keep captured?

Was Sutherland’s company formed?

What tone did the Inquisitor’s judgments take?

Jaws of Hakkon

Did the Inquisitor learn Ameridan’s fate?

Was Hakkon slain?

Did the Inquisitor share the truth about Ameridan?

The Descent

Did the Inquisitor stop the earthquakes from destroying the Deep Roads?

Trespasser

What is the ultimate fate of the Inquisition?

What is the Inquisitor’s final goal regarding Solas?

Again, this looks like a lot, and it is, but bear in mind that a lot of these will only have minor impacts on the story in the form of cameos and codex entries. However, there are several major DAI choices that will have significant impact.

For our hypothetical rewrite, I shall not list every single choice I made for my imaginary playthrough. Instead, I shall reveal them as we go along so as not to clutter the space too much. And it’s a bit more fun this way.

And that’s the World State editor finally done! I believe all of these choices are able to feature in some capacity, be it big or small. But no matter if it’s a big world-changing consequence or simple flavour texts and cameos, it will still be our Thedas, our own unique version of it that we helped shape.

Now that the past is dealt with, let’s look at the present. Next time we’ll talk about Rook, the six factions, and why a DAO-style origin story selection would have not only been beneficial but very doable.

Rewriting Veilguard Part 2 - The Shadow Dragons

[gangsteri-aine]

The Thrill of the Hunt

“Oh, I can't wait to watch your life fade from your beady little eyeballs,” Foolish says, the word wait sounds more like snap with the way Foolish's teeth clash together. His eyes flick around Bad’s face before returning to his eyes. “And I can’t wait to gaze into your beautiful gumdrop eyes while your giant muscular arms are ripping me apart,” Bad says as he takes half a step forward as he speaks and leans in closer. His tail swipes up from behind him and reaches to touch Foolish’s bicep. or; Bad is ready to hunted down

ao3

Bad has experienced several executions during his lifetime; as a witness, as an executioner and as the executionee. But he doesn’t think he has ever been as excited as he is for this one.

And he's not the only one. 

There is a crowd gathered below the castle stairs, anxiously waiting to see Bad die. Or “pay for his crimes” as they would say. 

It’s not the biggest crowd that has watched Bad be executed but it’s decent. A lot of people showed up.

And all of them don’t even want him dead! That’s slightly surprising. 

Pili is standing in the front crowd, his eyes keep jumping between Bad and the axe on Bad’s neck. He’s holding his own axe tightly in his paws, and Bad knows his inventory is filled with potions. He would fight for Bad which is nice. He didn’t seem to understand Bad’s eagerness for the execution.

Pili didn’t understand that the point wasn’t dying. It was what came before that.

Up on top of the stairs, Bad is standing with his back straight and tail calmy swishing back and forth. Every once in a while, it hits Sneeg’s ankle. The first time Bad’s tail touched him, Sneeg got startled enough to jump a little but every time after that he just scowled at Bad and tightened his hold on his battleaxe. That’s boring, Bad thought his jumpiness was funny. 

On the other hand it’s probably good that Sneeg isn’t that jumpy. It would be a shame if Bad got executed before it was the right time. You see, Sneeg’s axe had been steadily placed against Bad’s neck ever since they climbed up the castle stairs. 

Owen is standing on the other side of Sneeg. His axe is not pointed towards Bad at the moment; he's too focused on following Foolish’s movements as he readies himself for his speech.

Speaking of the only reason Bad hasn’t started running yet; Foolish looks magnificent in his hunting outfit. It perfectly matches his emerald eyes and highlights his strong arms. In Bad’s opinion, it’s one of the best outfits Foolish has ever worn in one of Bad’s executions. 

He is standing a bit further away on Bad’s other side, against Ros’ wishes. She would have wanted Sneeg to stand between them for Foolish's safety but Foolish had waved off the idea. According to him he wanted to show his beloved subjects that he wasn't afraid of Bad, that he was in control of the situation. But Bad knows that Foolish wanted him to stand there for other reasons. The same reasons why Bad would have chosen to stand there himself.

He wanted to be close to Bad. 

But this wasn’t close enough, there were still several feet between them. Much too much space. 

“Hello my dear friends!” Foolish yells. The king's speech has officially started. Bad can’t wait for it to end. Everyone below them in the crowd quiets down and nervously moves their attention to their king. "Welcome, everyone, to our first official execution Monday!" 

Foolish pauses as if to wait for applause and cheering to stop. In reality, only Ros and Tango let out a delighted whoops and cheers. Most of the other people clap their hands unenthusiastically; they seem confused. Maybe this is their first execution, they will understand the thrill and excitement later.

Foolish doesn’t let the awkwardness of the crowd bother him. Instead, he turns his body slightly towards Bad as if to address him but he’s still speaking to everyone around them. His attention is still mostly on his subjects and Bad doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like sharing Foolish. That attention is supposed to be on him. 

"Bad, you have mercilessly murdered-"

"Not murdered. They were all accidents," Bad helpfully points out tilts his head towards Foolish. 

Foolish pauses his speech and narrows his eyes. Bad can’t help but to smile at his annoyance. Excellent, Bad has his attention now. 

"Fine. You have accidently but mercilessly slaughtered numerous people and have been sentenced by court to death via a royal hunt." Foolish rolls his ‘r’ on the word royal and waves his arms upwards as if he’s imagining a title screen for Bad’s death. 

The crowd below them lets out a surprised gasp. Bad doesn’t know how many of them actually knew what kind of execution they came here to watch. 

Also, there is no court. At least not one that ruled this death sentence; Foolish came up with the idea a week ago and proposed it Bad. He was almost more excited about it than Foolish was. He even gave Foolish a couple of ideas on how to make the execution into a real spectacle. 

“You now have a chance to say your last words,” Foolish drops his 'speaking to the public' voice and steps closer to Bad. “Maybe start by apologizing for murdering your king. Maybe that will help you to get closer to Heaven.”

Bad almost laughs, Foolish would never even entertain the idea of Bad getting back to Heaven. To him, Bad has always been a demon.

“I,” Bad starts before turning to look deep into Foolish's shining emerald eyes. He can feel the anticipation emanating from the crowd, and Sneeg's axe follows his movement, “have done nothing wrong.”

Foolish tilts his head upwards and lets out an exasperated noise of frustration. And he's not the only one, many of the people watching, waiting for him to be hunted down, let out annoyed yelps. Next to him, Sneeg rolls his eyes and lets out a huff.

With Sneeg’s focus broken, Bad doesn’t miss a beat to side step his battleaxe and take a long stride towards Foolish. 

There is panicked shuffling around them. Sneeg, no doubt, rushing after him and other members of the kingdom pulling out their weapons. 

But no one manages to do anything to stop him before he's face to face with Foolish. That’s what you get by not training your guards properly. Kingdom full of fools, truly.

Foolish doesn’t move. He doesn’t even flinch. 

There is only a foot between them now. Bad still wants to be closer. 

He locks eyes with Foolish and sees the same hatred he feels. The same wanting. The same... something else. Even after all these years they have never managed to name that feeling.

Foolish waves his hand and all movement around them stops. Bad can feel everyone watching them but he doesn’t care. Foolish’s eyes are on him. That’s all that matters. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Bad repeats, his voice lowered this time. 

“Just admit you fucked up, you scumbag!” Foolish spats out and leans a little closer. His eyes are flashing in a way that tells Bad that he has also forgotten everyone else around them; that he’s ready for the hunt to start.

The hidden excitement in Foolish’s eyes almost makes Bad smile but he forces his face to morph into an expression that can only be described as a pout. He can’t let Foolish see that easily how happy Bad is about this. That’s not how this works. “Language.”

Foolish rolls his eyes but they quickly return to Bad's face. Like he physically can’t look away for longer than he has to. 

“Oh, I can't wait to watch your life fade from your beady little eyeballs,” Foolish says, the word wait sounds more like snap with the way Foolish's teeth clash together. His eyes flick around Bad’s face before returning to his eyes.

“And I can’t wait to gaze into your beautiful gumdrop eyes while your giant muscular arms are ripping me apart,” Bad says as he takes half a step forward as he speaks and leans in closer. His tail swipes up from behind him and reaches to touch Foolish’s bicep.

Surprisingly, Foolish doesn’t slap his tail away. Instead, he lets it rest on his arm. 

Bad can't tell whether everyone around them has gone deadly quiet or if his ears have just decided that nothing apart from Foolish matters. Which is true. Nothing else matters right now. 

“You,” Foolish starts as he in turn leans in closer to Bad. Bad knows Foolish is not doing it deliberately; he never really thinks when they are like this. And neither does Bad, he just does what feels right in the moment. Their noses are almost touching now. “are a freak.”

Bad can’t stop the excited grin spreading on his face “Don’t act like you don’t want that too.”

Foolish doesn’t answer but there is a small smile tugging on his lips. 

“Never in a million years,” Foolish says and lets the smile take over his face. Bad feels his own grin widen. 

“I can’t wait for you to hunt me down,” Bad mumbles. They are close enough that Foolish definitely feels Bad’s breath on his face. 

“Then start running,” Foolish snarls, his sharp shark teeth shine in the setting sun.

Bad tilts his head a little to the side, bumping their noses together. He doesn’t need to look at Foolish to know his eyes flick down for a fraction of a second. Before Foolish can move or say anything else, Bad quickly whips around and lets his tail smack Foolish in the face. 

Foolish lets out a surprised yelp but Bad can’t stay to laugh at his expression. 

“You motherfucker! That was my royal nose!” Foolish yells after him as he sprints down the castle stairs. 

Everyone in the crowd below the stairs was staring up at them with shocked expressions. None of them recover from the sudden turn of the events fast enough to do anything to stop Bad. He’s able to run through the crowd without any issues as Foolish yells insults after him from the top of the stairs. 

After getting a safe distance away from the crowd, Bad turns to glance behind him. 

Foolish has stopped yelling and is now standing on top of the castle stairs with his bow in hand. He’s ready to mark Bad as his property, as his target to hunt. Ready officially start the hunt.

A smile spreads across Bad’s face; some would call it creepy, others full on insane. Bad doesn’t think it’s either. It’s simply the smile that represents the feeling he gets when he knows Foolish is going to be after him. Foolish is going to be after him and he’s not going to stop before one of them is dead. And neither is Bad. 

It's going to be a good hunt.