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thefanciestborrower · 11 months

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Haha lol Ice Emperor goes Brrrr part 5

[Ooooh, we're half way there oooh, livin' on a—]

It was days before The Emperor got proper repairs done, in part because it was an exhaustive process that involved hand-braiding copper wire, and in part because he simply didn’t appreciate even the best of his blacksmiths melting one of his internal organs to seal it shut. In that time, as it was too cold to leave him outside, and The Emperor’s previous housing was inaccessible, the Boy—Lloyd, he called himself—spent most of his time curled up behind The Emperor’s teeth. Sometimes, Lloyd napped under his tongue, sometimes he simply lounged and talked until he was hoarse. Others, he poked his head above The Emperor’s mouthguard, and though having a very small boy suspended over his teeth was something of a nerve-wracking experience, if just because human blood got everywhere—Red. Sticky. A sign of ill times. Frightening—Lloyd seemed to take joy in “supervising” The Emperor’s strategy meetings.

It was an easy thing, getting used to the boy’s presence outside of keeping him contained. Lloyd spent most of his time talking, though he never paused for an actual reply, seeming content with The Emperor’s occasional hums of acknowledgement. Today’s topic seemingly revolved around his favorite story character, Fritz Donnegan, and his adventures in space. A samurai in space was an interesting… if outlandish topic, but it kept Lloyd occupied, and The Emperor didn’t mind the soft white noise as he sat and stared blankly at the opposite wall of the main entry hall.

It wasn’t as if there was much else to do. With his army questing for the mystery tea plant, and the single assassination attempt of the week taken care of (and cleaned up by Vex), he found his options for entertainment quite limited, a sentiment his… guest seemed to share for all of his talking. “And the writers completely forgot about Kiflin between issues one-hundred twenty-six and one-fifty.” Ah, back to the injustices inflicted upon this “Commander Kiflin,” seemingly the only thing Lloyd was willing to fault the tellers of his story for. An elbow propped up on his teeth’s anchoring ridge as Lloyd flailed in his indignance.

“I gather he was returned for half of his entertainment value in issue one-hundred fifty-one?” Speaking around the boy was difficult, but no more difficult than hitting a moving target with a shuriken. It was simply a matter of being careful of his teeth, really. His voice took on far too much of a metallic ring if he tried with his mouth closed.

“Exactly!” Lloyd took the opportunity of widening space to sprawl out even further across The Emperor’s molars, one hand waving about out of his mouth as if anyone could see him from behind the mouth guard. “And he wasn’t even drawn right—”

“Why do you read these stories if they make you so angry?” A tilt of his head cleared Lloyd away from his teeth, back in the safety further toward the back of his throat. The patch in his synthetic stomach was still curing, so he forced himself to resist the urge to swallow, instead using his tongue to tuck all of the boy’s limbs out of the way of tooth and cold. The Emperor may not have had saliva, per se, but some amount of moisture was essential for his organs to function in the way they should, so Lloyd was somewhat wet, a dangerous thing in the cold of the Never-Realm, where water froze near instantly upon hitting open air. Lloyd spluttered, but accepted the situation as it was, returning to his ramblings almost immediately.

“‘Cause they’re interesting.” A hand on his tongue, nudging and pushing. The silicone bent easily as Lloyd kneaded at it, sending a light, fluttery sensation up his circuits. Like he had a particularly excited moth in his mouth. “And I like the story for the most part, it’s just bad, sometimes.”

The Emperor hummed in acknowledgement, a low sound set in the middle of his chest.

“There isn’t much to do up on the Bounty except play video games, anyway. It’s all Jay ever does, at least…” Lloyd’s voice faded into a comfortable blurriness, his voice taking on the tone it did when he was rambling for rambling’s sake and didn’t actually want a reply.

Twenty minutes later, it occurred to The Emperor that, perhaps, he’d been humming for a little too long. The sound had dipped into a low drone, like the sound a factory made in the distance, or the growling of an engine. It was a quiet sort of sound—more felt than heard even to his metal skin. The next thought he had was that Lloyd was being remarkably quiet.

The slightest, most miniscule twitch of his tongue confirmed what he’d assumed. The boy was still, curled up with a shoulder dug into The Emperor’s cheek. Soft, slow breaths puffed around his teeth, and the low thrum of a heartbeat hovered in the air. Lloyd was asleep. Gone to the world. Well enough, The Emperor supposed. Quiet was a rare thing in the palace.

His hum tapered off.

Not even a moment later, Lloyd shifted. A flailing hand patted at his tongue, followed by a grumbled kind of noise that The Emperor thought might have been words once. It was only on the repeat he caught the meaning.

“Why’d y’ stop?” The boy mumbled into The Emperor’s cheek, half of his body spilled over the ridge of his teeth.

A questioning noise rose in the back of The Emperor’s throat, though Lloyd didn’t seem to understand his confusion, plowing over the sound with more of his own. “‘Had a weird dream. Think ‘s your fault. Vex told me your name was E.M.P. Like the acronym.” A moment where silence stretched.

Lloyd shot upright so fast he hit his head on the roof of The Emperor’s mouth. He didn’t even pause to groan or complain, racing ahead at a speed only brought on by—apparently—the strangest of dreams. “You have a name, right?” Little hands rested lightly on The Emperor’s incisors as the boy leaned to the front of his mouth. “And it’s not E.M.P?”

He had a name! Of course he had a name. He was… he…

Did he have a name? He didn’t think so. He had always simply been referred to as “The Emperor.” Lord of ice.

“I do not have a name to my memory.” The Emperor refocused his eyes and caught the silhouette of a servant standing at the entrance to the hall, a tiny package held in her hands. At the same time, he could all but hear Lloyd wrinkling his nose in disapproval.

“Well, that doesn’t make any sense.” There it was.

“You may give me a name to call me by if you like.” The servant bowed as she began ascending the steps. “I’m sure I had one at some point, but I’m afraid the formlings took that from me when they damaged me.” He freed a hand for her to place the simple folded cloth in. Inspection revealed a thick winter coat, insulated well against the elements in the same manner as his army’s... only... miniature. A nod, and she was gone.

“What about Julien?”

An odd name for an emperor, but the name was… familiar. Like he’d heard it millions of times. Maybe it was his name, even though that didn’t sound quite right. He supposed it didn’t matter. Whatever title he took would become his, as the palace did.

“Julien is… acceptable.”

#submission #not my writing #phyre anon #WAHHHH THE BOYS ARE BONDING I REPEAT #THE BOYS ARE BONDING #little Lloyd and his info dumps gosh I wanna kiss his little head you wrote him so cute!#AND! Just! Vibing in Zane’s mouth! So precious aaaAAA #also please Julian I’m crying actual tears that’s so sweet 😭#soft vore #safe vore #fandom vore #g/t vore #n.injago vore

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sushiandstarlight · 4 years

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“Cookies”: NaNoWriMo 30 Days of Prompts

Today’s Prompt

Read this story on AO3

Summary: I’ve started a sequel to Of All The Beds In All The Hotels In All The World! A Christmas Holiday special. I don’t think it’s absolutely necessary to have read my Too Many Beds fic first, but it will give you a better understanding of where the characters stand and who my original characters are.

Rated: G, for now. I will warn if the rating changes.

This post will include the first 3 chapters because they’re short and I don’t think each one needs it’s own post (also I have had a long day and I’m zonked).

The call came from Gladys two weeks before Christmas. Crowley answered the phone, startled to see the number. She had given it to him before they left the little Bed and Breakfast- “in case you ever need to talk, dear”- and he had dutifully put it in his mobile while she watched. He thought he might call again in the spring to book a getaway. What he wasn't expecting was for her to call him.

“Gladys is everything alright?” He could hear the edge in his own voice, if anything was wrong he would be there in an instant to make it right. He wasn't exactly sure when Gladys and Edie had become his to protect, but apparently they were.

“Oh, Crowley, good!” She didn't sound like someone in deep distress. He felt his hackles settle a little. “How are my boys?”

“B-boys... Oh, we're fine.”

“Glad to hear it, glad to hear it,” there was a pause, “Look, I've got myself in to a bit of pickle over here and I wondered if you boys might be able to help me. Unless you've got your own holiday plans.”

“Not a big Christmas fan, me. Aziraphale's got the tree up and he keeps secreting away so I know there are gifts happening.”

“Tell me you got him something, too.”

Crowley was silent.

“Crowley.” Her voice was stern. He had never had a real parent. Not one that spoke with him like that, anyway. And yet, her tone managed to reach inside him and pull out the truth. It wasn't the first time she'd done that and, though he didn't know how it worked, he doubted it would be the last.

“I have, I'm just a bit nervous about it, is all.”

“Oh, I'm sure he'll love whatever you give him. It's from you, after all.”

“Yeah, let's hope.”

There was another pause. This was why Crowley preferred texting.

“So, I know I said we're fine and we are,” Gladys took the conversation back to it's origin, “but Edie's son has taken ill and she's busy tending to him...”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Yes, but you see, we signed up for the bake sale here in town over a month ago and I'm afraid I don't think I can do it all myself.”

“Your grandson?”

“He's never been interested in baking, Crowley.”

“The breakfast ladies?”

“They've all signed up, too. They have their own baked goods to make,” Gladys sighed and it sounded to Crowley to be a little put on, “I can tell them that I'll make what I can make, I suppose. Any amount that goes to the charity will help.”

There was a silence and Crowley swore he could hear her smirking. He let it drag on for another few seconds.

“What charity?” He put his face in his hand. He was being suckered by a little old lady in a bed and breakfast out in the country. He could feel it happening just as surely as anything. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“The orphanage a couple towns over. Their heater has been limping along for a couple years now, but I don't think it'll keep through this one. Those poor dears. But, we're going to raise the money to have the furnace replaced.”

“With a bake sale.”

“What better way is there?” How could someone's eyes twinkle through a mobile phone? That was impossible. He was losing it. He nearly suggested an online campaign. There were plenty of people who would open their wallets for cold children this time of year. But, he doubted Gladys even owned a computer.

“I can be there by tomorrow night.”

“Oh, do bring Aziraphale, too.”

“I think he has plans here in the city, Gladys.”

“I think he probably has plans to be wherever you are, Crowley. Ask him. Maybe he would like to get away with you to the country side.”

“Maybe.”

“I'll have a room made up for you, dear. For both of you. Best room we have. Our honeymoon suit.”

Crowley choked and coughed awkwardly.

“All that means is it's a bit bigger, dear, don't get your knickers in a twist.”

“Sure.” His voice did not squeak, it really didn't.

“And it's got a nice, big bath tub,” Her voice was doing that thing where he could hear the twinkle in her eye again, so weird, “big enough to share.”

“Alright then,” his voice had now definitely risen in pitch, “So, I'll talk to Aziraphale and you'll see one or both of us tomorrow night.”

“Oh, thank you, dear,” she sounded relieved at least, even for her meddling, “I really do appreciate the help. Time was, I might've tried to do it all on my own... But, wisdom tells you when you need a little help.”

“Sure, Gladys.”

“Bye-bye! Can't wait to see my boys.”

“See you soon.” Crowley swiped the phone to hang up and sat and stared at it. Time was, he might've tried to get out of this. Surely, there was an excuse somewhere. But, well, Gladys had wormed her way into his heart like a spindly vine, hadn't see? She was largely responsible for his current happiness. He owed her a lot. Maybe everything. What were a few days baking cookies, anyway? They could be back here by Christmas and his plans wouldn't have to change.

He dropped the subject over breakfast the next morning, suddenly.

“Gladys called me last night.”

“Gladys... oh, from the Inn?”

“How many Gladys' do you know?”

“I'm not sure, I've never done an inventory. I would have to consult my rolodex.”

“Roll- Of course, of course you have one. You're you.”

“No need to get snippy,” Aziraphale took a sip of his coffee that was more like cocoa than anything else and Crowley could see him hiding a smile, but he let it go, “I mean, how much more prying can the women do? I suppose she could ask if we're married yet.”

Crowley choked spectacularly on the black coffee he had been drinking, only narrowly keeping from spraying the table and the angel across from him.

“Alright there?”

“Fine,” Crowley wheezed and set his coffee down, thinking perhaps it was best to not try that again during this conversation, “No, she wasn't mettling. Well, no, I'm sure she was because that's who she is.” Now he wondered. But, what could she be up to? She couldn't know.

“What was the reason for her call then?”

“She needs our help- well, my help.”

“Which is it?”

“She asked me, but she told me to invite you.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“Hmm!” Aziraphale winked at him. Crowley wondered if perhaps they had all got together to test him.

“You don't have to come. I can drive over this afternoon and help her with her cookies and then drive back when we're finished. Our plans don't have to change. You can stay here.”

“Do you want me to stay here?”

“What?”

“Do you want some time away? Maybe we've been spending too much time together,” Aziraphale was staring at him with an alarming amount of earnestness, “It's okay if you want to go away for a bit. I'll miss you, of course, but I won't take it personally.” He reached across the table and squeezed Crowley's hand.

“Don't be absurd.”

“I wasn't!”

“Angel, I-” and he cut himself off suddenly, looking down at the table and taking a deep breath before looking back up, “I want you to come. If you want to come, that is.”

“It's settled then,” Aziraphale took a tiny bite of the scone on his plate, “I can't wait to eat her scones, so much better- real butter, I think that's the key.”

“We'll be baking cookies, though, I'm not sure there'll be time for scones.”

“There will be scones,” he patted his lips free of crumbs.

“How... How can you know that?”

“Because she knows I'm coming round.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. This smelled like a conspiracy.

“She likes me Crowley, you know that.”

Crowley kept staring.

“Dear, she likes me because I make you happy. You're the favorite. Don't get all... bothered.”

Crowley nabbed the last bit of scone off his plate and popped it in his mouth just to watch his angel fluster and fume.

“Rude... Demon.”

“As charged!” Crowley smirked, rising and offering his elbow, “I'm packed. I'll take you to yours so you can pack, too.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale let him lead the way out of the café.

“You're welcome. I know I'm in for a sit and wait.”

“Rude, again!”

Crowley opened and shut the passenger door of the Bentley, chuckling. Maybe they were conspiring. Or maybe it was Pick On Crowley day. Either way, he would have his fun, too.

Crowley was right in the end. He sat for over an hour, staring at the Christmas tree- “oh, Crowley, it's OUR Christmas tree now!”- while he waited for Aziraphale to finish packing. He should have given him a luggage limit, he thought belatedly.

Two suitcases and a leather duffle bag appeared on the floor by his feet and Aziraphale descended the stairs.

“We aren't going to be there very long.”

“You're not sure how long we're going to be there.”

“I said we'd be back before Christmas.”

“Are you sure of that?” Aziraphale was standing in front of him now, hands on his hips. Crowley pressed his lips together. He didn't know if he wanted to bop him on the nose or kiss him.

“Bastard.”

“As charged,” Aziraphale sing-songed, picking up the duffle and heading for the door, “you coming?”

Crowley muttered and picked up the two suitcases, following him out.

“These are books.”

“Of course they are.”

“'Of course they are...' Aren't you going to help with the cookies? You bake now.”

“I bake cakes.”

“Cakes, cookies, what difference is it?” Crowley shut the luggage into the Bentley and ushered him to the passenger door, opening it for him.

“They are completely different things,” Aziraphale sat down primly. Crowley shut the door on him. He'd be squawking by the time he sat down inside, but in the moment it had been satisfying. The Universe was definitely testing him.

Aziraphale was quiet when he slid in beside him. Crowley turned the car on and edged out into the street before hitting the gas.

“I can help.”

“Neh, you don't have to.”

“I could be moral support.”

“Gladys and I can handle it, you can just relax and read.”

“Do you mean that? You can change your mind, you know.”

“Nah, you just have a couple days off your feet, eh?” He slid his hand over the angel's knee and gave it a squeeze.

“How did she manage to twist your arm into doing this, anyway?” Aziraphale's hand was over his, warm and soft. Crowley felt himself relaxing by degrees. This wouldn't be so bad, not with his angel along for the ride. Even if he didn't have the foggiest idea how to make cookies, either.

“Orphans.”

“Oh, oh dear.”

“Cold ones.”

“My goodness. She did lay it on thick.”

This was most certainly a trap. A cozy little trap. And he was driving right into it.

Can I get, he thought, a wahoo?

Chapter 4 Now Up!

#aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #star light-reads #of all the beds in all the hotels in all the world #30 days of prompts #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2020

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olinco · 5 years

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headcanons pt2

oh i love this one!! yeah no that seems really in line with their characters. olimar absolutely will sit you down and talk for literal hours about all the research, studying, and oddities he’s witnessed. you will need to leave the room to get him to shut up

my personal hc is that olimar always wanted to go to space (for a multitude of reasons, some of which were/still are invisible to him and stem from his unfortunate childhood), and crashing on PNF-404 was (weirdly) an opportunity for him, even if it was low key traumatizing.

olimar has mixed views on PNF-404 as a planet, and as an experience. but he will not deny, it’s fascinating to observe the ecosystem, the creatures, and the balance between everything.

HKYUKRGHLIRG THE SON NO ONE ASKED FOR

olimar definitely is very protective of him and due to his unfortunate sense of self sacrifice, he’s taken quite a few hits for louie (despite the man being able to escape by himself for the most part).

while there’s certainly father/son aspects to their dynamic, i personally view it was a bit more nuanced than that. louie is a very odd individual, and there’s a certain distance and misunderstanding between the two that complicates their relationship. while louie is young and can remind olimar of his son, he’s too adult and (in many ways) disturbed.

well now that we’re on the topic

louie was practically mute when they first started working together, but as they slowly got more comfortable with each other, louie started opening up a bit more. olimar found that the first time he got the man to talk extensively was when he asked him food-related questions.

slowly but surely their relationship improved and they learned quite a lot about each other. louies a surprisingly sensitive and attentive man, but he can zone out or get distracted easily. hes sweet, once you get to know him, but due to his inability to express himself he can do/say some really off putting things. as someone who grew up never really having friends, he finds himself having difficulties knowing how to act with a friend/whats appropriate to do around a friend. olimar knows to be patient with him, which helps their friendship tremendously.

olimar meanwhile is a very kindhearted and selfless man, and given how patient and understanding he tries to be with louie, louie grows attached to him rather quickly. while louie can be lazy and grossly incompetent, he will actually give it his all when either one of them are threatened.

that wasn’t always the case, however... they’ve had some pretty significant bumps in their relationship, one of the most notable being the titan dweevil incident. ill save that for later though

oh man im actually horrible with signs because i forget which one is which very easily but tbh i agree with those, especially olimar being a cancer

in case you can’t tell, my olimar is rather sensitive and prone to crying

louie rarely gets hurt. at least, he rarely gets seriously hurt. the boy will come back to the ship wordlessly, covered in bruises and scrapes, and say nothing about why or how he got hurt.

olimar tries his best to avoid injuries but it happens regardless. when he was by himself, it was a massive hindrance... he would have to take a day off just to heal, which was very stressful when he had such a tight time limit over his head. he has scars from that time; injuries that he never had the time to let heal. nowadays, with louie with him, you’d think he’d be more comforted knowing louie can go out and make sure that at least some work gets done for the day.

naw. olimar worries about him too much. so it tends to be that when oli gets hurt, they both take a day off, so that olimar doesn't have to worry about his co-worker, and louie can help take care of them.

the usual ‘injury’ is just olimar making a fuss about louie getting a scratch, and louie silently accepting the berating as oli patches him up.

#modpost #pikmin #olimar #louie

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boshawbearclaw · 6 years

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Flames In The Ashes Chapter 6

Warning in general, smut for days bruh,

@kittywolfy

9 hours after they crashed into the wonderful world of dreams, Lucas woke up layin' in the middle of Raw dog and Randy, their limbs entangled around Lucas like a safety blanket. Lucas had his arms around each of their shoulders, subconsciously pulling them closer, he leans a little to each side to pepper kisses onto their foreheads.

For once in years, he feels content and happy, but that moment was short lived because his alarm went off, "Goddammit, fuckin' loud piece of shit." He grumbles as he reaches over to his grab his phone with his right hand, bringing it closer to his face, his eyes harshly adjusts to the screen, squinting his eyes he makes out the time, 08:00AM. he shuts that shit down by tapping the on the part of the screen where it says 'cancel'.

Raw dog burries his face into Lucas' neck, grumbling about not having the stamina to run in gym class, Randy woke up at the same time as Lucas so he was just staring at his lovers face while smiling softly and stroking Lucas' little stomach hairs.

Lucas' phone buzzed 20 times during the night but they were out like a light, as he scrolls through the texts the more frustrated he becomes with each word he reads, there is no reason as to why they need to be so damn rude to him.

Lucas huffs and tosses his phone onto a random pile of clothes, "What's wrong, Lucas?" Randy asks softly, making Lucas look at him, he leans forward and rubs his forehead against Randy's at an attempt at affection. Randy smiles then leans in closer to fill in the space between them with a chaste kiss.

"I have to go to work, I'll be back later. I love you both." Lucas states as he gets up, raw dog unwillingly detangles his limbs with soft grumbles, the man scoots closer to Randy and wrapped his arms around him nuzzling his chest. Lucas watched the display with a smirk on his face.

''S good to be back, now to get dressed'' he thinks to himself, he turns back to face his closet and grabs random shit and puts them on, a black def Leppard shirt with a worn flannel and worn jeans with holes in the knees.

Lucas shuffles tiredly into the kitchen to make himself breakfast, a simple sandwhich really, he'll eat anything he can get his hands on, the music playing on the radio in the kitchen droned on as he finished making his sandwich, he ate quickly and when he was done eating he put up his dished then shuffled to the door and put his boots on before leaving.

He jumped down his steps, grunting a little when his booted feet his the ground harder than he intended, he walked over to his truck and got into it, he grabs the keys from the sun visor and stuck them into the ignition, turning the keys to start the car.

Lucas smiled at the sound of the engine roaring to life, he then took off down the dirt road towards the entrance to the trailer park, passing the gate he speeds down the road until he starts passing cars, he then grabs his phone from his pocket that he grabbed and stuffed into there before he left.

Lucas searches his texts for the directions on where the fuck to go, he grunts in annoyance when he reads the part where it says he needs to go to Atlanta for the table reading. Lucas turns on the radio and switches over to the hair bands station and turns up the volume.

As he entered city limits he was met with lots of people and cars everywhere, he was overwhelmed to say the least. Lucas sat at the first stoplight of today, the car next to him had a blonde soccer mom and her little shits in the back of her little mini van, already he was showing signs of his frequent aggressive behavior today.

He stared and rolled his eyes as she was on the phone with some fuck he didnt care about, her pink and purple yoga pants were obnoxious, his mind wandered absently as ge continues to stare. Lucas thought of what itd be like if he ate her flesh.

The rest of his thought was interrupted by the car behind him honking their horn, he retaliates by flipping them off and speeding off towards the offices, when he gets to the parking lot of the building he finds a random spot and parks there, shutting off the truck and plucking out the keys, he gets out and stuffs them in his pocket.

Lucas walks into the building and was met with a security guard and metal detector checkpoint, 'Fuck this shit' he grumbled as he walked over to the line, he stood out in this type of crowd considering everyone else wore professional clothing but he wore something a redneck would wear.

"Sir, empty your pockets and put any items in the tub then step through the metal detector, please." The guard said, Lucas snapped out of his stupor and did what the guard said, emptied his pockets then walked through the detector, beeps were heard as the guards computer monitor highlights Lucas' head, chest and crotch.

"Do you have any jewelry that cant be removed like piercings?" The guard questions, Lucas blushes and nods, "oh, ok you can head on in then." The guard motions twoards the hall just past the metal detector, "mhm." Lucas said simply, grabbing his shit that sat in the tub thing, he then head twoards the room that the table reading is being held.

"234, no, 235,no, ah 236." He knocked on the door with the shave and haircut tune, he waited there a moment before the door opened and the cute bear greeted him with a smile, "Lucas your here! Thats great, come sit down we're just about to start." Kirkman moves outta the way enough for him to get into the room, he shut the door behind Lucas, ushering him to his seat in between two guys, one guy had short curly hair and an angular jaw and the other that straight choppy hair with chin fuzz and sunglasses on.

"Everyone this is Lucas Boshaw, our own piece of Georgia history for the show, hes a little shy so be nice." Kirkman announced as Lucas got seated, they all looked at him with curious stares, the raven haired man shifts uncomfortably under the heavy gazes of the people at the large table.

"Lets get started, so, the episode starts with rick showing up at a gas station walking around, he then encounters a little girl, he calls out to her then she turns around and he finds out that the little girl was a zombie, in a panic he pulls out his Python revolver and pops her in the head, then the intro scene starts."

Everyone looked intrigued, even Lucas as he nodded his head slightly in agreement, "And then it starts as if everything was normal, Rick and his partner Shane sitting off to the side of the road eating lunch when they get a call on their radio about and hit and run turned full on high-speed chase, when they get there there's a shoot out. Then Rick gets shot, it shows him in the hospital getting visited by Shane but unbeknownst to him that a few months go by,-"

Everyone is so focused on what kirkman is explaining that theyre all staring at him like zombies looking at fresh meat, "- The camera starts at the ground following some roughed up boots, Lucas', and music starts playing, preferably something that came out before the 2000s, he continues walking when he stumbles across Rick calling for help. The music then cuts fades out when lucas takes off his head phones." The boss continues to fill everyones head with the script.

In the middle of Jon Bernthol's question about his character a ringtone shouted from someones pocket, "country roads take me home!" Some of giggled at Lucas' ringtone he rushed to answer it, "shit sorry hoss hold on, what do you want? No i havent seen him...well if i do later ill tell Stanley your looking for him,....ok Lamar, bye." Lucas shuts off his phone as he apologized for the disruption.

As the meeting went on they introduced themselves to each other, apparently the british guy on Lucas' right was named Andrew Lincoln who plays Rick Grimes, and to his left was Norman Reedus who plays Daryl Dixon, and the rest of the actors and actresses are Melissa McBride as Carol Pelletier, Chandler Riggs as Carl Grimes, Steven Yeun as Glenn Rhee, Lennie James as Morgan Jones, Laurie Holden as Andrea, Sarah Wayne Callies ad Lori Grimes, IronE Singleton as T-dog, Michael Rooker as Merle Dixon, Jeffrey DeMunn as Dale Horvath.

Apparently kirkman had the whole first season written out and planned already, the actors, actresses and extras and crew already. At the end of the table reading they were told to come in tomorrow to start shooting, when everyone left to go towards the parking lot, Lucas had stopped next to his truck and sat on the hood and pulled out his virgins slims and a lighter.

Norman appeared in his peripheral vision, Lucas jumped slightly, he turned to look at the squinting man. "You're Lucas right? How You uh adjusting to your new life so far?" Norman asked as he leaned against the trucks bumper, "It's going way better than i thought it would, to be honest."

Norman nodded with a smile, scooting closer to Lucas he started whispering, "your friends with Robert kirkman right? If you tell him to not kill off my character in the first season ill let you fuck me." Norman begs, Lucas raised his eyebrows, "Really? You'll let me fuck you if i convince kirkman to not kill off your character? Christ you're bold, Mm alright I'll talk to him." Lucas said softly, Normans face lit up when the other man agreed.

The older man shot forward and hugged Lucas, he gasped softly in surprise, "Thank you so much Lucas, oh god you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that." Norman squeaks into Lucas' stomach, "Do um do you wanna fuck me now? Or later." Norman said quietly as he let go of Lucas, the man nodded and hopped down from the hood.

Norman smiled sweetly at Lucas, "Get in Bubba, we need to make a stop before i go to town on your ass, heh." Lucas said as he rounded the side of his truck and got inside it, Norman got in the passenger seat as Lucas started the truck. They start their destination back twoards the trailer park.

A mile or 2 after they drove past city limits they stopped at a truck stop for some cigarettes and dill pickle flavored sun flower seeds, the heat of the Georgia sun showed as beads of sweat dribbles down the sides of their faces, Lucas parked the truck and got out, Norman following behind him closely.

On their way through the parking lot they spot an expensive looking green mini van, Lucas scoffs and continues on. Once they enter the shop Lucas immediately figured out who that mini van belong to, a rich suburban family wearing matching clothes were in the candy section picking out their selection of sugary snacks.

By the looks of them they're obviously tourists.

The mother with the 'may i speak to your manager' haircut turns to look at who walked in the store, once she spotted them she got uncomfortable as she stared at the tattooed man who stands over 6 feet with a muscular body and handsome but dangerous look about him.

Lucas sticks out his split tongue and flicks it lewdly in her direction, she blushes and looks away which causes Lucas to smirk, he strolled down the same candy isle, staring at the possible goodies Hangin' on the rack.

Norman scampers over to him, huddling close to him, "C'mon sweety lets see what your dad found." The mom said, Lucas glanced behind him and smirked when the mother blinked in his direction. Once they grab what they want they head over to the cash register, little goodies grasped in their hands.

They dropped 'em onto the counter with a clang, the cashier jumps slightly, the young girl behind the register starts checking out their items and puts them in a plastic bag, "Your total is $21.98." She states, Lucas nods and grabs a 20 and a 5 from his wallet that was previously in his back pocket, he waved her goodbye and leaves with the bag of goodies in his hand, Norman follows him back to the truck.

Soon the pair were on the road heading twoards their destination, 5 miles before the trailer park is when Lucas remembered that he has his best friends waiting for him, with that in mind he pulls over to the side of the road and shuts the trucks engine off. "Why are we stopping?" Norman questions, Lucas didn't say anything as he got out of the cab and rounded the side over to the passenger side.

He opened the door and pulled Norman out of the seat, using his large body to press against Normans smaller one, Lucas kisses his lips softly and nibbles on them with care, Lucas' lanky hands grasped at the mans ass. Moans escaped their throats as they hump each other feverishly, Norman undoes his own button and zipper so he could push down his pants and briefs.

Lucas stared hungrily at Norman, an animalistic look in his eyes that frightened the older man but made him even more turned on, Lucas flipped him around and undid his jeans as well, he also grabbed some lube from underneath the passenger seat and squirted some onto his aching cock, he chucks it onto the floor of the truck before he spreads the mans ass apart and slides his cock against the other man's hole.

Norman whines, "Please Lucas, fuck me already, i cant wait any longer.", Lucas smirked before sinking his large pierced cock into his winking pink hole, Norman winces a little but gets used to the fullness moments later, " Aah fuck, you're fucking cock is so big, i feel like im gonna split apart!" Norman reached out behind himself and holds open his cheeks.

Growls are heard as Lucas plunges his cock into Norman, nothing was on their mind besides the feeling of intense pleasure and heat swirling around in the pits of their gut, not even the fact that they might get caught by the highway Patrol or the families coming in or out of Atlanta, "Hnng fuck Norman, you feel so good,,." Lucas moans as he leans over the other man, biting the soft fleshy junction between his neck and shoulder.

Norman starts starts to get wrigley as he nears his climax, Lucas drools on his back as his own mouth hung open while he pounded Norman's ass, minutes of multiplying heated pleasure later, Lucas' thrusts became more erratic as he neared his own climax, "Argh fuck fuck fuck!" Lucas shouted as he came inside Normans hole.

They stayed like that for a minute before Lucas hucked his pants up and knelt down onto the dirt, he spread Norman's sore hole and started to lather the winking pink hole with his split tongue, soothing the slight bruising and miniscule tears while slurping up the cum that leaks out.

Lucas reaches through Norman's legs and grabs his aching dick, jerking him off at an agonizingly slow pace, "Aahh, fuck me, mm im gonna cum!" He yells into his fore arm, Lucas smirked before he began pushing his tongue in and out of Norman's ass.

Moments later the man was pushed over his edge, he came with a shout immediately after, his whole body shivered as cum spurted out of his cock. Lucas was done with licking him up a moment later, he got up off his knees and sucked on his fingers while Norman pulled his pants back up and buttoned them close.

Lucas stopped his finger licking to make a joke about how the mans ass is, "Finger lickin' good!" Norman turned around with a cute smile on his face, Lucas smirked at his face before kissing his lips softly while grabbing his bruised hips gently.

Lucas pulls away first and helps him into the truck before walking around the cab to get into the truck and starts the engine.

"Im gonna drop you off at the office so you can get on your bike and ride home, i don't think youd like my abode, heh." Lucas says before making his way back to Atlanta, the ride was mostly quiet save for the hair band playing on the radio, they made it back before sundown so that gave Norman to go home so he could do everything he needs to do before bed time.

An hour later Lucas was eating dinner with Randy and Raw dog, they later go to bed tangled in each other's limbs

"Sweet dreams, boys."

#flames in the ashes #oc #norman reedus #smut #my fanfiction #my fanfic

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directionlessbuthappy · 6 years

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Dawn of the Draugr: p1

In a pre-apocalyptic world, there is Elyse, a 21 year old woman who was going to community college in her small town in Northern California, working on biology and medicine courses. Doing what young adults are expected to do at her age. But her future spirals into uncertainty with a pandemic spreading across humanity. An illness which infects and shuts down the body, reanimating the brain and turning the person into something only seen in repetitive shitty movies and your nightmares. Being on her own, Elyse would have to lose her morality or sanity to survive. Maybe both. However, she may be able to keep them now that she’s found Alex Lothbrok and his brothers. Or, she may lose it even faster…

Modern AU: Alex H. Anderson x Reader

Warnings: graphic violence, language, blood, death

Note: I kept the last name Lothbrok for the brothers to distinguish characters vs reality. I doubt they are anything like the characters (based on them for visual purposes) I’m writing, so I prefer to add an element of unrealism here to reiterate this as fiction. Cheers xo

Tagged: @missrobyn81

It wasn't a normal day.

Everyone likes to think when the world ends, it'll start out totally normal, and you'll have no idea what's happening or whats coming. You won't see it until its too late. People sell it that way for drama, for TV shows and the movies, but its not real. The truth is, you do see it. The warning signs are everywhere, but without someone telling you to run, you aren't sure if you should. People are like sheep; they don't know what to do without instruction. When the epidemic spread from South America and Asia, nobody here was worried. We had central America in our path, and a whole ocean separating us from Japan. It seemed like the black plague at first; killed massive amounts of people over the last two years. But since there were minimal cases of it here in the US, nobody was worried.

For a while.

My family was split; my mom and I were alone most of my life. She married a man who already had two kids. I was an adult at that point, indifferent to the pairing but still living at home. Going to community college. Everything seemed normal despite everything we were seeing on the internet and on TV. Coverage of the epidemic was getting less and less clear as more people were panicking and packing up their things. Our whole neighborhood moved out in a week. Northern California felt safe enough, we hadn't had any sightings/cases of epidemic here. There was some in Texas, and Arizona...

One day after a phone call, my mom told me she was going with her husband to go get his kids. It was their week to visit us, and their mom wasn't comfortable driving on the roads with how crazy it was getting out there in Washington state, so my mom and her husband planned to go get them. I was in denial, in a way...not really considering how bad it was yet. it felt eerie, being home alone after that. Our little three bedroom, one story house on Sweedland Way felt like a mansion while I waited for my mom to come home. I'd stopped going to school; we'd got an email that class was out due to teacher shortages. Out, indefinitely. I remember when I got my first taste that it was all real, not some widespread panic about the cold.

I was sitting in the living room, checking through a few websites that hadn't posted in over a week. I was studying animal medicine in college (when I was still going) so I understood a lot of technical jargon when reading on the epidemic. All the articles and different notes on the contagion were unfinished; even Wikipedia was useless in explaining what it was. Most researchers first found it in South America, comparing the disease to a virus hiding behind the symptoms of bacterial infection...making it less concerning in its early stages. Researchers didn't catch on until about 6 months in, when more hospital staff were infected verses healthy. Infection was mostly caused by saliva, whether its ingested, gets in your eyes, or most commonly seen in the reports I found...you get bit. Like a rabies virus on cocaine, the disease ravages your system and fries pretty much everything...except your spinal cord and your motor function. The nervous system was preserved by the disease and regenerated itself; the body would be able to function, move, and respond to things like noise. But otherwise...

I didn't like to entertain the idea the dead could come back to life. That wasn't true, it was science fiction bullshit. Granted, I loved cheesy movies where the dead would rise, but that was all they were. Movies. If anything, these sick people were just very sick...maybe it was a new type of cancer, that was why it scared people so much.

I was wrong.

...

"See the sight lined up to the chest?"

"Yeah..."

"Shoot it."

"But I need to hit the head."

"I know Elyse. Take the shot."

I swallowed and pulled the trigger. The gun popped against my chest like a light bump, and the bullet went straight through the target's "neck." I was surprised.

"It aims high!"

"Bingo," Alex replied. "Its the only red sight we have. Jordan can't get the tilt quite right but it still works eh? Now aim at the neck."

I do so, trusting his word now more than before. I squeezed and the gun pops; the bullet hole in my target's head was clear. With a giddy squeal, I aimed to take another shot, but missed. Alex grinned from behind me, I knew this because when I turned he was already doing it.

"Nice shot."

"Shut up," I replied, faintly hurt. He chuckled and outstretched his arm for the gun. I handed it over, safety on.

"Wanna try with the handguns?"

"Actually..." I whined. Holding my arm up to show off the bruise blooming on my tricep, Alex frowned slightly. "Can we take a break?"

"Sure punkin," he shrugged. I still took the time to roll my eyes at him before sitting down on a hay bail. Our little training field wasn't too far away from the house; Jordan and Marco could still see us from the second floor's porch. We were safe, mostly. The treeline that surrounded the house on the hill made me the most nervous, especially at night. Jordan called them "fight nights" for fun, but he was good at making others feel better. I could see right through it. Just like I could see them coming through the treeline every other night.

Sometimes it was just one, sometimes a pack of them. They traveled in groups pretty often. They're always so listless, walking like they were drunk and heavy and yet they weren't slow in their pace. They'd drag their feet, and although they were responsive to sound, it didn't seem like they understood anything. From the material I've read and studied in the last couple months the disease is as unpredictable as its victims. Sometimes you'd die in a week...sometimes it only took 24 hours. But if you got bit at all, you were fucked no matter how long it takes to die.

"Jordan's still not worried about the ammo?"

Alex shrugged, taking a mag and shoving it into the cartridge of his 47. "We have enough to get us through a month of assaults. You and Marco are the only ones worried."

"We have enough for a month of assaults with automatics, Alex. Our handguns are limited. They're attracted to noise, and we can't haul ass with ten pound metal death machines on our shoulders!"

"We'll be fine. If you're really that worried, go down the hunt shop on West 10th. They'll have something," he replied coily. I scowled at him.

"That's not funny."

"Was I laughing?"

"Alex!" I snarled. He had the sense to look a little upset, sighing once he realized he'd actually upset me.

"I'm kidding Lees," he muttered. "I'll go with you tomorrow. Would that make you happy?"

"Are you being sarcastic again?" I replied warily, buttoning my flannel up and down with the same button. Alex took a few shots, turning the head of one of our dummies into swiss cheese. He put so many holes in it the head actually fell off. It made us both chuckle.

"Do you want me to go on my own?"

"No!" I squeaked instantly. Alex grinned and turned his back to me, lining up the sight of his automatic again. The kid was growing on me...

#alex hogh andersen #alex hogh imagine #alex hogh x reader #zombie apocalypse #the lothbroks #post apocalyptic #writings #modern vikings au #dawnofthedraugr #modern au

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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How The Dark Knight’s Canceled Game Accidentally Changed Gaming

https://ift.tt/2LCOmNz

The canceled video game adaptation of The Dark Knight is one of the more fascinating and infamous pieces of game industry lore. To some, the title is just a curious footnote in video game history. To others (mostly those who invested in the project or lost their jobs over it), it’s a dark reminder of an idea that is perhaps best left forgotten.

I see the game a little differently, though. While it’s easy to look at these kinds of projects that were never released and wonder what could have been, the fascinating thing about the canceled Dark Knight game is that wondering what would have happened if the game had been released is the quickest way to distract yourself from the many ways that the world of gaming was changed by the fact it wasn’t released.

Those who worked on The Dark Knight never got to properly share their efforts with the world, but that doesn’t mean that the canceled adaptation didn’t (perhaps unintentionally) help change gaming forever.

The Dark Knight Was Too Ambitious For its Own Good

While it’s rarely ever talked about today, 2005’s Batman Begins (a video game adaptation of the film of the same name) caught a lot of people by surprise. It wasn’t great, but it was a simple and solid action game that allowed people to easily play out the major events of the movie they had suddenly become enamored with. So far as that goes, it didn’t hurt that the adaptation featured the voices and likeness of many of the film’s actors.

Inspired by that game’s success, Elevation Partners later acquired the rights for a video game based on Christopher Nolan’s just green-lit Batman Begins sequel, The Dark Knight. EA would once again publish the adaptation, but this time, development duties were given to Pandemic Studios: the team best known at that time for their work on Star Wars: Battlefront and Mercenaries.

Everything that we know about the early days of The Dark Knight‘s development (much of which comes from this 2016 report on the project) suggests that it was initially intended to be a fairly straightforward follow-up to the Batman Begins game. That is to say that it was going to be a linear action/adventure game with stealth elements and a plot based on the film.

However, things changed drastically when the Brisbane branch of Pandemic that was working on The Dark Knight decided to use the open-world game engine (Odin) that the Los Angeles division of the company had developed for The Saboteur. Inspired by what they saw, the Brisbane team decided to convert The Dark Knight into an open-world game that they felt better represented the scope and spirit of Nolan’s films as well as some of the studio’s own work on previous hit open-world titles.

This is where things got really interesting. During the project’s conversion to an open-world title, Pandemic’s Brisbane team focused on more ambitious gameplay concepts that wouldn’t have been possible (or at least as interesting) in a linear setting. For instance, the team intended to allow players to navigate Gotham City by foot, by grappling hook, and via vehicles that included the Batmobile. These transportation options could be accessed at will and would make it easier for the player to complete the various side quests that the team intended to populate the world with.

It wasn’t just open-world innovations that increased the scope of Pandemic’s design efforts. For example, it’s been reported that Pandemic intended to emphasize the stealth elements that Batman Begins featured in a relatively limited capacity. The idea of an open-world game that emphasized stealth gameplay was something of a rare beast at that time, but it all supported that grander idea of making a game that felt true to the Nolan version of the character as well as classic Batman concepts.

That level of ambition is always appreciated, but Pandemic quickly discovered that the Odin engine was woefully ill-equipped to handle what they were working on. Even after they got the engine to simply load the assets without crashing, the team was unable to solve the truly terrible frame rates that made the game essentially unplayable throughout large chunks of the development process. It soon became clear that using this engine to create the open-world game that Pandemic had in mind was going to take a long time if it was going to work at all.

Unfortunately, time is the last thing the team had. In fact, it was time that ultimately killed the game.

Movies

Batman: Soul of the Dragon – Bringing a Little Bruce Lee to Bruce Wayne’s World

By Gene Ching

Comics

How The Next Batman Sets Up a New Saga for the Dark Knight

By John Saavedra

The Dark Knight’s Biggest Problem May Have Been the Film It Was Based On

It’s actually kind of funny that Pandemic was so determined to do justice to Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight considering that they had very little input from anyone associated with the film throughout the early days of the game’s development.

The earliest versions of The Dark Knight game used placeholder assets built to run on PS2 technology. Both the outdated technology and the use of temporary assets largely unrelated to the upcoming film were something of a necessity as the team knew virtually nothing about the movie during the early days of development. It’s even been reported that some of the early looks they did receive (such as the design of The Joker), would later be changed as the production of The Dark Knight movie evolved. Art and test footage of the project suggests they eventually got a pretty good look at the final film, but that seems to have happened somewhere around the time that the title’s technical problems emerged.

The biggest burden The Dark Knight film put on Pandemic, though, was the movie’s July 2008 release date. Just as they had done with Batman Begins, EA was determined to have The Dark Knight game released alongside the film. However, it became increasingly clear that the game’s technical issues could not be resolved by that rapidly approaching deadline.

While it was decided that the team could instead release the game in December just as The Dark Knight debuted on DVD and Blu-Ray, that plan was shockingly derailed when Gary Oldman talked to G4 about what he had seen of the project. Seemingly unaware that the game was supposed to be kept a secret, Oldman got everyone asking questions about a title that was still plagued with technical problems and unlikely to make even the extended release window that EA had opened for Pandemic.

The project officially came to an end in October 2008 when EA decided to shut it all down over a lack of substantial progress and increased scrutiny. Some of those who remained at Pandemic’s Brisbane studio throughout the course of the troubled development process were offered the chance to go to the L.A. offices and work on The Saboteur. However, that lifeboat didn’t stay afloat for long as Pandemic was shut down entirely in 2009. It’s estimated that EA lost about $100 million in revenue by not releasing The Dark Knight and having to eat the project’s development costs.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Considering that some close to The Dark Knight game have stated that the project’s problems were slowly being resolved by the end of 2008, it’s possible that the game may have eventually been released were it not so closely tied to the movie in terms of its design, story, and publicity. At the very least, EA may have eventually figured that it was better to eventually release something rather than just cancel the game and eat all the losses.

The cancelation of The Dark Knight game should also spell the end of its story, influence, and legacy. However, that’s not what happened. Actually, The Dark Knight lived on in several remarkable ways.

The Fallout of The Dark Knight’s Cancelation Includes The Saboteur, Arkham Asylum, and Shadow of Mordor

While none of us have ever actually played The Dark Knight, there are a few games that followed which some feel offer a glimpse at the project’s bigger ideas.

The first was The Saboteur. While that project was in development during much of The Dark Knight‘s own development cycle (and was thus not necessarily directly influenced by the “fallout” of its cancelation), the parallels between the projects are fascinating. Besides obviously featuring a version of the same engine, The Saboteur also featured open environments, stealth sequences, vehicles, and an emphasis on moody urban settings. It’s hardly “Batman without Batman,” but it’s hard to look at that game and not see a few hints at what The Dark Knight could have been.

Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor is quite possibly the biggest game that was strangely influenced by The Dark Knight‘s cancelation. The story goes that Monolith Productions hoped to create a game based on Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises or a Batman game designed to be released close to that movie’s debut. In fact, they reportedly started to work on such a project before they even had the official rights to the movie.

Unfortunately, those rights never came. There’s some debate about this part of the story, but it sounds like the biggest problem was that Nolan never signed off on the adaptation. Some suspect his hesitancy was due to his dissatisfaction with The Dark Knight‘s cancelation and perhaps his skepticism regarding the very idea of these quick-hit video game adaptations.

Not all was lost, though. Monolith reportedly decided to take their early work on that Batman game and transfer it to a title based on The Lord of the Rings. There’s some debate regarding how closely Shadow of Mordor resembles the early Dark Knight Rises project, but it’s believed that the former’s famous Nemesis system may have been based on an idea that the team would have used to generate thugs in Gotham City. It’s even been said that early versions of Shadow of Mordor featured a Batman character model in place of the eventual protagonist.

Of course, it’s impossible to talk about The Dark Knight without talking about Arkham Asylum. Considering that Arkham Asylum was announced in 2008 during the final days of The Dark Knight‘s development, it’s unlikely that developer Rocksteady Studios was heavily inspired by that project. That said, the similarities are hard to ignore. Both featured an emphasis on stealth gameplay, both were larger and more ambitious than many of the Batman games that came before, and Arkham City and Arkham Knight would even feature open-world elements similar to the concepts reportedly considered for The Dark Knight.

It’s fascinating to live in a world where two Batman games that were worked on during the same rough time period ended up so differently. The Dark Knight was canceled and is probably remembered best by those at EA and former Pandemic employees as a $100 million failure that helped trigger the end of a beloved studio and the careers of the people who worked at it. Arkham Asylum, meanwhile, is widely considered to be not just the best Batman game ever made but one of the most important 3D action titles ever. Its influence is even felt in the aforementioned Shadow of War.

For that matter, it’s also difficult not to dwell on the fact that The Dark Knight was tied to one of the most beloved movies of its era while Arkham Asylum was loosely based on the Batman comics and ’90s animated series. Actually, that difference is also ultimately part of The Dark Knight‘s greatest legacy.

The Dark Knight Helped End a Dark Era For Movie and Superhero Adaptations

The Dark Knight‘s investors and publishers seemingly saw the game as an extension of the movie it was based on. Like a more expensive and more ambitious Happy Meal toy, they seemingly figured the project’s true value was as a piece of promotional merchandise that those who loved the movie would buy simply by virtue of its association.

If Pandemic had been less ambitious in their efforts and simply delivered a relatively simple action/adventure game based on The Dark Knight, it almost certainly could have been a hit. The Dark Knight wasn’t only the highest-grossing movie of 2008: it’s a cultural touchstone that’s influence is still felt to this day.

Yet, by choosing to instead focus on making a game that was perhaps too ambitious for its own good, the Pandemic team ended up influencing video games in a more lasting way by helping to bring an end to an era when most gamers assumed that a major film release would be accompanied by a video game tie-in and that the video game based on that movie would probably be quite bad. After all, the practice of releasing adaptations alongside films was so common that most people just assumed there was a Dark Knight video game in development long before it was ever accidentally confirmed by Gary Oldman.

Funnily enough, though, many of the best games based on movies released up until that point weren’t directly tied to a new film. GoldenEye 007 was released nearly two years after the movie, Tron 2.0 was released over 20 years after the Tron movie, and some of the best Star Wars games ever were far removed from the release dates (and plots) of the movies. It’s not that there weren’t good games designed to be released alongside movies but rather that history had shown that the best games based on such properties typically took time to carve their own identities. The other kind of adaptation was often reserved for studios looking for a quick buck.

The Dark Knight‘s estimated nine-figure losses almost certainly helped change that dynamic. Suddenly, games based on properties released closer to their own terms (a list of titles that includes Mad Max, Insomniac’s Spider-Man, Shadow of Mordor, and many others) were not only selling well but garnering widespread praise in the process. With the idea that at least a game based on a new movie suddenly not as sound as it once was, we saw more and more studios turn to looser adaptations to get the best out of an established property without being restricted by a movie or show’s release date.

In some ways, it’s hard not to wonder what that change in philosophy meant for the last 12+ years of gaming. Would we have gotten a Dark Knight Rises game if The Dark Knight had been released? Would Marvel had been quicker to greenlight a series of titles based on MCU movies? Would we soon be playing a Justice League game based on the Snyder Cut rather than waiting for Rocksteady’s Suicide Squad project?

It’s hard to know the answers to those questions, but I still feel like we ended up in the better timeline (at least so far as adaptations and licensed games go). I would have loved to play a game based on The Dark Knight, but I would have wanted it to be the game that Pandemic envisioned and not the one they could have released in time. In some ways, I feel like I have been lucky enough to play several excellent games in recent years that are more in-line with their intended vision.

While I don’t believe the studio secretly served as a saboteur meant to crash the quick hit tie-in industry, I wonder if they can’t help but smile at the idea that their own ambitions are still being felt all these years later.

The post How The Dark Knight’s Canceled Game Accidentally Changed Gaming appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2O0yfKE

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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kuriquinn · 7 years

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Penthesilea [12/?]

Cover & Disclaimer

Chapter Summary: Even after watching for so long, Sasuke is amazed by the whole process. He has never had occasion or interest to watch the medic ninja treat the wounded or ill, at least not with such a procedure.

Chapter Beta: None beyond my own two eyes and editing software at the moment.

Author’s Note: I am not a doctor, I know nothing about biology, everything I know comes from Grey’s Anatomy and a copious amount of internet research. So anything that doesn’t make sense…it’s ninja magic, okay? Also, a reminder that the abilities in this fic are not perfectly compliant with canon abilities and possibly don’t follow the same logic. It’s an AU, I claim creative license :P

戦国時代

Everyone follows Sakura into the cloth enclosure she has set up, Sasuke sees that several wards have been drawn on the ground in a circle. The symbols resemble chakra seals, but he has never seen these before.

“It limits the number of foreign germs and bacteria in the clean area,” she explains when she perceives his gaze. “Obviously it’s not as effective as an actual surgery, but it will have to do tonight.” She offers an impish grin. “It’s similar to what Mito-sama might have used, so at least we’re in keeping with tradition.”

“Hopefully not too much in keeping,” Tenzō remarks blandly.

Sasuke frowns at him, still not entirely convinced of the importance of his presence here. “Why exactly is he necessary for keeping the jinchūriki safe?”

“You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here,” Naruto mutters.

Sasuke shoots him a pointed look. “A demon inside you should make you the least likely person here to come to harm. We’re the ones who ought to be worried.”

“The Kyūbi that was sealed within me spent its entire existence hated and feared by men, exploited and used for its power,” Naruto explains sombrely. “It’s taken at least two generations for it to even consider trusting me enough to lend chakra. Even with that being the case, it’s sometimes too much for me and I lose control.”

“If that should happen, Yamato-taichō will stop it,” Sakura concludes.

Sasuke narrows his eyes. “And does this loss of control happen often?”

“Not as much as when I was a kid,” Naruto says with a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his head ruefully.

Itachi and Sasuke exchange wary glances. Sakura notes this, and scoffs. “It doesn’t matter. Naruto is only insurance—I’m the one expending chakra here, not him. You were worried about the safety of this, and I’ve provided at least two fail safes. If that doesn’t make you worry less, there’s not point to us being here tonight.”

A challenge rings in her words.

“You’re right, Sakura-san,” Itachi says, tone coolly polite in the presence of others. “We have already risked much to meet tonight, it would be a pointless exercise if we didn’t continue with it.”

She bows her head, then raises an eyebrow at Sasuke, as if to ask if he’s satisfied. He nods.

Apparently validated, Sakura brusquely orders Itachi and Sasuke to disrobe and lie on the pallets that she has prepared for them. While they do that, she tells the woman—Ayame, Sasuke recalls—to fetch her several buckets of water and her father Teuchi to stoke up the fire.

“This is a minimally invasive procedure, but we are disposing of deadened cells. They must be destroyed as soon as I extract them,” Sakura explains to them. “I’ll do my best not to come in direct contact with any genetic material. If I’m unable to avoid it, though, may I have your permission to handle your blood?”

“We would not be here if you did not already have that permission,” Itachi informs her quietly.

“Thank you.”

From a small kit of medical instruments nearby, Sakura brings out a tiny pouch of earth coloured capsules and removes two. She hands them to Sasuke.

“These are stimulants,” she explains to him. “They will increase the amount of blood in your system—and thus bone marrow. The more we have, the easier it will be to extract.” Sasuke tosses them back, swallowing them dry, but still winces at the taste that hits the back of his tongue. “You need to lie still now. Your blood cells will multiply and get thicker, which will cause some side-effects—dizziness, headache, shortness of breath…it’s all normal. But if you notice anything like that, you have to tell me. All right?”

Sasuke nods.

“Don’t just agree and decide to tough it out,” she warns him. “Thick blood has the potential to cause a stroke. You are not to die under my care, do you hear me?”

“Heh, she knows you all right,” Naruto sniggers, and then gives a sharp cry when Sakura reaches out and smacks him. “Hey!”

“You antagonising him will not help!” she snaps. “Make yourself useful! You and Yamato-taishō are to keep an eye out for any sign that things aren’t going well, understand?”

“Understood,” Naruto gulps, as she turns to Kakashi.

“And you…you weren’t expected, but you can still be of use,” she informs him. “I assume you have some medical training, yes?”

“Enough to handle trauma in the field,” Kakashi allows; Sasuke suspects it’s impossible to be such close friends to Rin and not pick up a few skills.

“Skills like what? Stitching up wounds with twine or putting in a catheter?” she challenges.

“Either, if I have to.”

“Good. Then wash up and be ready to assist me if I need another pair of hands,” she tells him, reaching for the two large buckets that Ayame brings her. One is filled to the brim with water while the other is empty. Settling down between her two patients, Sakura leans over to meet Itachi’s gaze. “I’m going to begin to process to extract all the unhealthy bone marrow in your body. This is a long procedure, and excrucaitingly painful. I will have to put you to sleep.”

“No,” Itachi says right away, earning a glare.

“I don’t have time for stubborn Uchiha men,” she snaps. “I’m a healer, not a torturer. You cannot be screaming during this procedure—and yes, you will scream, I don’t care how much of a legendary of a warrior you are.” She extracts a tiny vial from her hip-pack. “This will knock you out for the next eight hours and you will take it right now.”

Itachi scowls, but does as he is told. Sasuke can’t help being a little amused at the sight of his brother being bossed around by the tiny medic.

“You’re not used to people saying ‘no’ to you, are you?” Itachi mutters as his eyelids flutter shut, and he goes still on his pallet.

“You’ll thank me for that,” Sakura tells the unconscious man, a grim smile on her face. She explains to Sasuke, “It’s not just the pain of the extraction I’m hoping to spare him. I have to keep any healing to a minimum during the procedure.”

“Why?”

“Medical ninjutsu mostly involves regenerating cells,” Kakashi interjects. “If you regenerate the same cells you just got rid of, you’ll be here forever.”

Sakura nods. “And the longer we have to repeat the process, the more likely it is we could trigger shock or sepsis.”

“And if that happens?” Sasuke challenges.

“Then we treat him—minimally—and start over from whatever stage of the process we’re in,” Sakura says. “It’s not ideal…but it’s all we can do with what we have.”

Everyone is silent, and the atmosphere of the room is heavy with tension.

“This is your last opportunity to stop this,” she goes on seriously. “Once I start…I won’t be able to stop without seriously compromising his health.”

Sasuke turns his head to study his brother’s face, peaceful in his unconsciousness. He wants to see that untroubled expression for many years yet.

“Begin,” he tells her.

戦国時代

Time passes, although Sasuke isn’t entirely sure of how much. The symptoms Sakura warned him about—dizziness and a pounding headache—make thinking a chore. All he can do is watch as she works on his brother, her face set in a permanent frown of effort.

There is a seal drawn on Itachi’s chest, right across his sternum, and encircled by similar warding characters to those which surround the two pallets. They gleam occasionally in the firelight, with the same blue-green shine of Sakura’s chakra, no doubt fighting off foreign bodies as she works. Even after watching for so long, Sasuke is amazed by the whole process. He has never had occasion or interest to witness a medic ninja treat the wounded or ill, at least not with such a procedure.

After placing her hand in the bucket, Sakura draws together a ball of water and then presses it into Itachi’s body; though he is unconscious, his frame jerks when she does this. She concentrates for several minutes and then draws the globule back out of his skin. In it, Sasuke sees a blackish-purple sludge.

“All of that should be bright red,” she remarked the first time she did this, and Sasuke felt sick.

That was all inside Itachi? No wonder he has been so ill.

The waste is thrown into a wooden container which Teuchi tosses in the fire at once. Yamato uses his wood mastery to provide another container for the next handful of blackened blood that Sakura pulls from Itachi’s body.

With every extraction, his skin changes from pale and smooth to mottled and bruised.

As the hours tick by, Naruto and Yamato sit by in edgy silence; Naruto appears to be focussing on something while Yamato observes him warily. Sakura occasionally pauses and inspects her patients’ vitals. She asks about Sasuke’s symptoms, while Kakashi measures Itachi’s pulse. Sometimes she frowns and uses a tiny amount of healing chakra on one area of his body or another. Each time she does, Sasuke knows that time will be added to the already lengthy procedure. Sweat gathers on Sakura’s brow, mopped by Ayame when she comes by with refilled buckets of water, and twice she lists forward, only to be caught by Kakashi.

“You should take a break,” the older man suggests. “Even just a minute or two might make a difference.”

“A minute or two could kill me patient.”

“If you pass out, he’ll die anyway.”

“I’m not going to pass out, it was just a dizzy spell,” she snaps in irritation. “That happens when you concentrate your chakra for such a long period. This is usually a simple poison-extraction technique—it rarely exceeds half an hour. But I’m not extracting a foreign material, I’m extracting his own cells, which by their nature want to stay there. So stop talking and let me concentrate!”

But in spite of her severe words, Sasuke notices that she seems paler, and there’s a worried crease in her forehead.

“Sakura…you’ve extracted what appears to be the entirety of his blood supply,” Kakashi whispers. “His heart won’t keep beating at this rate.”

“I know.”

“Then how are you going to…?”

He trails off as the seal on Sakura’s forehead glows, and the black, ribbon-like markings snake across her face and down her arms. Sasuke stares in amazement as she presses her left hand flat against Itachi’s chest and the mark stretches beyond her skin onto his brother’s. The bands crisscross over his body, disappearing beneath his hair and clothing, and in his sleep, Itachi’s face contorts in discomfort.

“What the hell are you doing?” Naruto demands, entire frame going tense. “Chakra’s not a permanent replacement for blood! You’ll burn up if you do that!”

“That’s why you’re here, remember?” Sakura bites out, eyes focussed on her task; with her right hand, she continues to draw out the deadened cells even as she feeds her own chakra into Itachi’s body.

“But Sakura—”

“If you see me falter, help me, otherwise stop distracting me.”

Naruto’s fists clench, and Sasuke wants to argue as well, but his tongue is heavy in his mouth and his vision continues to swim. Kakashi continues to look wary, standing nearby in case she falters once more.

The seconds tick by in sync with the beat of Sasuke’s heart, and Sakura’s breathing becomes irregular. When blood suddenly leaks from her nose and the black ribbons encircling Itachi’s body begin to recede, Naruto swears and snaps a hand out. As he grasps her shoulder, there’s a sudden flare of chakra, so strong that Sasuke’s stomach clenches; he’s not a sensor-type, but he can sense the blistering warmth from it as if he was just set alight. Sakura is surrounded by a bubbling, red film of energy, and the mark connecting her to Itachi strengthens again.

“Thanks,” she says through gritted teeth, still digging dead cells out of him. “I’m almost…finished…”

“Sakura…” Sasuke attempts, but his words are slurred.

Her eyes flit briefly to him and then back to her work. “Naruto, cover him as well. I don’t want him succumbing to a blood clot while I can’t help him.”

“Right,” the blond man says and leans over, pressing his hand to Sasuke’s shoulder as well.

If before he felt as if he was set on fire, now he wonders if he wasn’t catapulted into the sun. It is as if every nerve and synapse in his body has suddenly connected, and in his confusion, he imagines he hears a stranger’s voice. Low, deep and ancient, whispering to him.

‘...I am the one who will establish peace and order…two clans…two bloodlines…’

“Kakashi,” Sakura commands, bringing him forcibly back to the present, “connect the intravenous catheters now.” Her hand is still pressed to Itachi’s sternum, but now her other one rests on Sasuke’s as well. “Radial artery in Sasuke’s wrist to median basilic in Itachi’s elbow—do you need me to show you that?”

“No, I’ve got it,” he says, and Sasuke experience a tiny needle prick in his left wrist. “What else?”

“That’s it. I’ll need to stimulate blood flow myself,” she says. “It’s a tricky process—we don’t want any air bubbles or other obstructions passed between patients.”

“That’s it? It’s just a transfusion?”

“The marrow cells will automatically know where to go,” she agrees. “The process usually takes two weeks to a month, but I will speed it up. His system will be as good as new in a few days as long as he rests. He might be weaker for longer though…”

She attempts a confident smile, but it doesn’t stay very long, and then she glances down at Sasuke. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he bites out, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears.

“You’ll feel better in a few minutes. Sort of. There will be some more disorientation as the excess blood in your system will be evacuated rather quickly. But don’t worry, I’m protecting your heart from damaging itself.”

“Are you?” he asks dazedly.

She gives him a look he can’t interpret, and then closes her eyes, frowning in concentration. Slowly, he notices a draining sensation, his stomach fluttering as if he is being spun about, and a severe sense of vertigo. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches the trail of his own blood inch through the small tube attached to his brother.

This time he is more aware of the slow crawl of time and knows that still more hours have passed. Sakura’s entire form is shaking beneath the red cloak of chakra, and Naruto sits cross-legged beside her, face scrunched up in concentration.

Eventually, Sakura removes her hand from Sasuke, along with the tube connecting him to his brother.

“Your part in this is over,” she tells him. “Now I simply have to force the cells in Itachi’s body to replicate. I’ll use mine and Naruto’s chakra to cloak the new cells so his body won’t attack them. We’ll see if it works soon enough.”

“Do you need to rest first?” he asks before he can stop himself.

“If I rest now, I may sleep for the next few days,” she tells him, absently brushing his sweat-soaked bangs from his face. Sasuke is distantly aware of two sharp, surprised intakes of breath from Yamato and Naruto, but those pale in importance next to the tiny smile she gives him.

Well, if they didn’t know before…

Sensing that the procedure has come to the most difficult juncture, everyone in the room goes utterly quiet, watching as Sakura works. She makes several hand signs with her free hand, then presses it to Itachi’s chest; a beat later, she uses both hands to shove a generous amount of chakra into him. Itachi’s body arches upward, as if it has been hit by a bolt of electricity, and then—

The red cloak around Sakura disappears, and with it her healing mark.

“Naruto,” she prompts, a warning in her voice, but when she glances up again annoyance gives way to concern. “No.”

Sasuke follows her gaze and sees that the blond man is unnaturally tense, his hands gripping his knee so tightly that they appear to have punctured skin. Which should not be possible—except when Sasuke looks closer, he sees that Naruto’s fingers now have claws.

“What the hell is going on?” he demands, stumbling to his feet; the room spins, reminding that he doesn’t have enough blood in his system to be of much use.

“I can’t…I’m losing…!” Naruto begins through gritted teeth and does Sasuke imagine it or are they getting longer?

Blue eyes flicker in the dim light, turning into red slits, and Yamato’s hands are already forming a seal.

Sasuke tries to put himself between Sakura, Itachi and Naruto, but his limbs falter as if they are made of lead. He is nowhere near in the condition to physically counter…whatever is happening to his erstwhile rival. The other man’s chakra seems to surround him, splitting into nine shapes—like tails.

“Naruto, hold on—” Yamato starts, and several wooden branches burst through the surrounding ground, headed straight for Naruto.

Before he can complete it, a tail-like chakra appendage whips out and tosses the man across the room. There’s a brutal thunk of skull meeting stone, and he slumps into unconsciousness. As Kakashi moves to stop it as well, it another tail snaps out headed for him.

“Get…Ayame and Teuchi…out of here!” Naruto growls, saliva and blood leaking from his clenched teeth. “And…Sakura…!”

Kakashi is already shoving the two civilians out of the way as another tail launches itself at Sakura. She throws up her right arm to block it, even as her left continues to press against Itachi. There is the smell of sizzling flesh, as if the touch of Naruto’s chakra is too hot for human skin.

“Naruto, fight it!” she cries, eyes wide as she surveys what’s happening to Naruto but still leaning protectively closer to Itachi’s body. Sasuke instinctively knows that she won’t leave her patient no matter what happens.

But Naruto is stalking forward, eyes darkening even as he tries to hold himself back, and Sasuke’s body moves without thinking. He throws himself into the other man’s path, weaponless but for his Sharingan spinning to the surface.

His brother’s words echo in time with his heartbeat.

They say he could command untamed demons with his eyes.

“Don’t,” he commands, both his rival and the beast within him.

The small hut fades around them, as if cloaked in a genjutsu, and Sasuke stands before a cage, a snarling, bubbling creature before him. The raging ball of negative energy and dark intent appears to be approaching Naruto, but upon seeing Sasuke is rumbles in contempt.

“Ah, so you’re the latest Uchiha,” it sneers. “Allow me to congratulate you on making it this far.”

“Why are you here?” Naruto demands, looking panicked. “You should protect the others!”

“Sakura can handle herself,” Sasuke replies, hoping his sounds more confident than he feels. He stares up at the enormous fox demon. “I see. So, this was your secret power this whole time. Hard to believe that something like this exists inside you.”

“Impressive that you’ve become able to see me here within Naruto,” the fox rumbles. “Such would be the power of that accursed Sharingan…and your forsaken ancestry.”

“That’s right,” Sasuke realises, “You’ve seen eyes like these before.”

“I have seen it all before,” the fox sneers. “You are not unlike a certain Uchiha Madara.” It laughs coldly. “Surely you know of his fate?”

Sasuke narrows his eyes and shoves his hand forward, grabbing the fox by his nose.

“I am not Madara,” he tells it, and wills as much of his own chakra forward to dispel the spirit.

“And yet…like him…you can suppress my power,” the beast muses in what appears to be its parting shot. “I wonder what else you have in common with him.”

It’s dark laughter fades, and the world spins until they are standing once more in the hut.

Naruto falls to his knees, features twisted into astonishment as he gazes up at Sasuke, who barely spares him more than a cursory glance.

Kakashi has returned, erecting a mud wall between Naruto and Sasuke, and the rest of the occupants. Sakura is still leaning over Itachi, face bone pale, and her arm bubbling with a blistering rash, while Yamato rubs at the back of his head.

Satisfied that everyone has survived, Sasuke finally returns his attention to Naruto. He shoots him a glare.

“Sometimes it’s too much for you?”

つづく

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comfort-blankets · 7 years

Text

~Headcanons ~

AHHHHH. I CAN'T BELIEVE I WENT OVER THE CHARACTER LIMIT. Ugh. I SWEAR I read your rules, I promise! I don't know how I did that curse my brain at 4am. So um, I'm really really sorry about that! Would you mind doing the panic attack prompt as headcanons with McCree, Reaper and Junkrat then? I'm so sorry again I can't believe I did that flbllfagj orz

Weeeellllll they started out as headcanons and sort of turned into a short drabble? It got a little out of hand because of my style so bear with me heh. Also the last half of Reaper’s and the majority of Junkrat’s are a bit shaky. It’s not because I wrote them at 2 in the morning. I wanted to cast Reaper in a different light but I’m not sure I captured it very well. As for Junkrat, he’s just hard for me to write for some reason. Hopefully this is what you asked for! If the ask isn’t to your liking, contact us and I’ll revise it if needed!

Because this is a panic attack prompt, there is an over all sad theme. There is angst but it is resolved with fluff because I’m not a monster. Tread carefully, be safe, and most importantly enjoy! <3

McCree:

He was a broken man. Because he wasn’t entirely sure of himself, he poured some of his pieces into you for you to hold onto, should he fall apart completely. And of course, you returned the favor by giving him pieces of yourself. It made the two of you feel less empty. You two were by no means full of each other. That was never the case, nor was it how the two of you worked. You gave each other just enough to keep going. Just enough to remind each other that you had the other’s back.

It was at this point McCree realized you needed just a little bit more of him. He had been holding back as of late because he didn’t want you to worry about him. He felt he needed to figure some things out by himself. For him stepping back was hard, but he felt it needed to be done. McCree didn’t always want to rely on you. Didn’t always want to run to you. Didn’t want to deal with the pain if you decided to up and leave. He wouldn’t be able to handle it. And so he receded.

McCree soon realized how this would affect you.

He saw you sitting there crying and cursing the sky, cursing it for what was happening to you. You were panicking, thinking the worst of your current situation. Whether it was McCree leaving, or you thinking he never loved you in the first place, it didn’t matter. You sputtered curses and choked on your words. You cursed McCree. Cursed him for loving you, for turning away from you. You saw the signs of his retreat, and instead of asking him why he had gone, you took it upon yourself to retreat as well. You backed away from him, and soon it was too much.

You were hurting and all McCree could do was stand there. All he could do was stand there and watch you suffer, watch you tear yourself apart for something he had done. He knew it was his fault. And god knows he would try his damnedest to bring back his sweetheart.

“Darlin’ please…” His heart couldn’t take much more. He was wrong. He was so wrong. He thought dealing with things on his own would help. He didn’t know what to do now.

You both knew from the beginning. Knew that communication was key. Why did he forget that? He wanted to protect you, but he ended up hurting you.

You were beyond hurt.

“Please what.” Your tone was hard and your heart was following suite. Despite your shaking you turned to face him. To let him see exactly what was happening. Your hair was splayed wildly across your face, your eyes red and puffy. Tear-stained streaks cut across your cheeks. To put it lightly, you were a mess.

That’s when McCree broke. He fell to his knees in front of you, and despite your slight protests, he brought you into his arms. Willed you to calm down. To come back to him. He was so sorry. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He didn’t want to lose you.

You buried yourself into his body completely. His embrace brought on a new wave of tears which you both rode out. You could feel McCree sniffling into your messy hair, heard him whispering apologies, felt him give in to you.

Once you were both calm, you pulled back and looked at your cowboy. Through his now mussed up hair, tired eyes, and scruffy beard you could see him. You saw the man you loved, and would do anything for. You saw his remorse, his regret, and most importantly his undying love for you. And that was enough for you. Silently cursing yourself for getting the both of you worried, you slipped a hand onto his cheek. You smiled wide and laughed, much to McCree’s confusion. You were ok, and it was all thanks to him.

“Damn you, Jesse McCree.”

He laughed. A great big belly jiggling laugh that shook the both of you when he pulled you back into his arms.

“I love you too, darlin’”

Reaper:

The man was insufferable. There was hardly a time where the two of you weren’t fighting. Whether it be about little things like who did the dishes last, or larger things such as him departing for a mission without leaving so much as a note. Even then, it wasn’t all bad. There were times where Reaper would stop being an insufferable ass long enough to apologize and kiss the pain away. In those moments you were happy and content.

This time however, it was too much. Your nerves were overloaded. You had your job to worry about. Your relationship with him was crumbling, along with your resolve to keep working. More and more work was piled onto your desk, leaving you to hole up in your room most nights in order to finish it on time. Reaper didn’t mind it at first because he knew your job was important to you. But to say the man was patient was an understatement. When you brushed him off to do work he would make side comments, things like ‘if you love your work so much why don’t you marry it’ and other similar phrases. They were usually mild and he meant no ill will towards you. He was mainly frustrated at your boss for giving you more work than you could handle.

But soon, the work piled too high. You were jittery because of all the coffee and energy drinks you were consuming, and on top of that you were losing sleep. Reaper hated it. Many a time he had offered help, and when you politely refused, the conversation quickly turned argumentative. Sometimes it would end in the both of you slamming the doors to your respective rooms, too angry to spend the night in each other’s arms. You didn’t want to burden him with your work, and he didn’t want you overworking yourself. But, of course you would work until the early hours of the morning and lose even more sleep. Meanwhile Reaper would either go out to let off steam or he’d stay in his room to sulk, and wait for you to come out of your room.

But this time you didn’t.

You didn’t even get out of your room to go to work. Just called in sick and sat there in your room try not to think about the pile of paperwork sitting on your desk. You were stressed out to say the least. The fights with Reaper weren’t helping either. Hell, you couldn’t even remember how many times you had screamed his old name back at him like it was some curse.

Somehow you had found your way onto the bed. How you got there was a mystery to you, but as soon as you hit it the tears came. The shaking came, the worst of thoughts following each convulsing motion. You wondered if it would ever stop. The crying, the tears and the hopelessness, it was all tearing you apart.

You didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t hear Reaper walk in, shut the door and sit next to you. You didn’t feel the bed dip, but what you did feel was a cold hand on your head. A cold and heavy weight, but a reassuring one. Soon, the tears died down. Reaper sighed and prompted you to lift your head from the pillow. You had been holding onto it for so long, the only telltale sign of your crying being the amount of liquid on your pillow.

“How long?” you asked, your voice cracking.

Reaper turned your face to look at him, or rather his mask. “How long what?”

You flinched away at the sound of his voice. “How long have I…”

Reaper sighed, not liking the way you seemed to be facing away from him. He took off his mask and turned your face to his again, letting you see him. Really see him. Scars and all. “Too long. And before you go blaming yourself, it’s my fault. I should have done something… I should’ve insisted more on helping you. Instead... I was selfish, I blamed something I couldn’t control and look what’s happened.” He slammed a hand on the bed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. “Look at me, making this about me when you’re the one in pain.” He laughed dryly and looked down. “I promise… I’ll-”

“You’ll what Reaper? You’ll help me? You’ll take this weight off my shoulders? Look, it’s not that I don’t want you to, it’s that I can’t let you. I don’t want to put that weight on your shoulders. I can’t.”

He gave up, defeated. He knew you would want to do your own work. You were always the headstrong, compassionate type. Always sacrificing yourself for others. That’s what made him fall for you. But it was also what made him worry about you. “How about a compromise?”

When it looked like you wouldn’t even consider his proposal he went on.

“When the work gets too stressful, take a break. Step back and unwind. If you want, I can help you out?” For him to be this vulnerable, this exposed, and for you was something you had never seen before. Where was this man two weeks ago? When you were smothered under a pile of work?

“Yes.” It came out before you even knew what you were thinking. “Yes. Please yes.” You didn’t want to fight anymore. In that moment, the fight left you. It wasn’t completely gone, it just sat on the backburner to be revisited later. You were tired of doing things on your own and refusing help. Maybe he was right, you had been overworking yourself after all. The shadow of a man gave a ‘hmmph’ of approval and gathered you into his arms.

“Thank you.”

You grabbed onto the front of his shirt and closed your eyes as your head rested on his chest. You were finally at peace.

“No, thank you.”

Junkrat:

‘“Oy! I’m home!” Junkrat had just come back from a mission. He had originally told you that it wouldn’t take more than two or three days, but it ended up lasting two weeks. The entire thing went sideways, communications went down, and in the end the team had to retreat and regroup before eventually calling it a loss. Junkrat wasn’t all to happy about the end result, but he was happy when he was finally able to go back home to his sweetheart.

But what about you? You were worried beyond belief. At first you tried to think rationally when the communications first cut out. Right before the comms went down, you had just been talking to Junkrat like you normally would. You kept in mind the communications went down all the time due to enemy interference. So, at the time you figured it was just some foul play, and that the comms would be back up in no time. You had set your communicator down and had gone off to do some cleaning around the house, knowing that your communicator would beep whenever Junkrat decided to contact you again.

He never did. Now you didn’t know he actually couldn’t due to whatever reason, but that still didn’t ease your mind. You obviously thought the worst. What if talon had gotten a hold of him? When was the last time you saw Mako? Was Mako even on the mission with him? Was there anyone there to help him out?

The thoughts kept spiraling out of control. The next few days you tried to keep yourself out of your thoughts by talking to the other agents on the base. You even tried going for long walks among other things. When you slowly started running out of things you panicked. You couldn’t stop thinking about Junkrat and what could’ve happened to him.

You locked yourself up in room and refused to come out, save for mandatory meetings and mealtime. When you did come out, the other agents could tell that the absence of Junkrat was starting to take a toll on you. They offered many helpful tips, none of which you accepted, not wholeheartedly anyway. You just wanted to be left alone to your vices. You didn’t want other people worried about you. The day he came back you were in your room once again, a fresh new thought coming to your mind.

What if he didn’t make it?

The thought clawed your heart, threatening your soul. It was a challenge. Would you let your heart get ripped out or would you fight it? You didn’t get much of an answer. You lay there crying thinking the mission went too far south. You would never get to see him again. Never get to watch his face light up at even the smallest mention of an explosion. Oh how you loved his smile, and his laugh, and his voice. In fact you could hear it now. It was calling for you. Replying to it was futile seeing as he was dead so you cried harder. “Stop doing this to me!”

Junkrat cursed under his breath and walked into the foyer. “Sweetheart? You ok?”

“This isn’t funny!” You screamed into your pillow and sobbed. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t breathe, and whoever was imitating his voice wasn’t helping. You just wanted him back. At this point you were convinced that he was dead.

The man practically ran into the room and when he saw the sight before him he almost wept. To see you so broken didn’t sit well with him. You were supposed to be his firework. The one thing he was still hopeful about, not some burnt out spark. A shell of what you used to be.

“Hey little firecracker, what’s got you upset?” Junkrat carefully reached out and tapped a hand to your ankle as not to scare you. With a sharp intake of breath, and an even sharper snap of your neck you faced him. “J-Jamison?”

Despite him being scared for you he flashed a smile and puffed out his chest. “The one and only! I uh, I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you th-”

He was cut off by you practically slamming your body against his and wrapping him up in a hug. “I don’t care. You’re here. You’re here.” You repeated the words like over and over while swaying back and forth.

Junkrat smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m here.” He wrapped his arms around you and the two of you stayed like that. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep in his arms, and when you did Junkrat tucked you back into bed.

Before he left the room, he tucked a hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead. When you sighed contentedly and grabbed his hand, he couldn’t help but laugh and squeeze it before you let go.

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ladystylestores · 4 years

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Your Tuesday Briefing – The New York Times

An outbreak in the capital rattles China

Some residential compounds in Beijing were under lockdown on Monday and tens of thousands were tested for the coronavirus as the government rushed to contain a new cluster of infections.

The outbreak has jolted China, after President Xi Jinping had said that Beijing should be a fortress against the pandemic.

Details: City officials said Monday they had tracked down 79 infections in Beijing over the previous four days, including 36 confirmed on Sunday. They appeared traceable to the Xinfadi food market, which was shut down over the weekend.

Disease experts said limited bursts of infections were likely to become part of the “new normal” for China. Still, it led to the firing of two local officials and the manager of the food market.

Pakistan’s hospitals are overwhelmed

A month after Pakistan’s lockdown ended, people who have the coronavirus are being turned away from hospitals that have simply closed their gates and put up signs reading “full house.”

Doctors and nurses are getting sick at alarming rates, and are also coming under physical assault from desperate and angry families. It’s prompting intense criticism about whether the government should have been more careful in its response.

Medical professionals now expect the virus to peak in July or August and infect up to 900,000, adding further strain to a shaky health care system that some warn may collapse.

Details: Before reopening, Pakistan had recorded about 25,000 infections. A month later, the country recorded an additional 100,000 cases — almost certainly an undercount — and the pandemic shows no signs of abating. At least 2,356 people have died of Covid-19, according to official figures released Thursday.

Quotable: The government “did not listen to what doctors were saying,” the Pakistan Medical Association said in a statement. “Now the result of this negligence is obvious.”

Breaking up with China is hard to do

The coronavirus pandemic has reminded many countries how deeply reliant on Chinese business they are, and some are trying to reduce their exposure.

That’s not always as easy as it sounds — especially during an economic crisis. We looked at three companies in three countries heavily reliant on China to understand what businesses are facing.

Australia’s lobster: Before the pandemic, 95 percent of Australia’s spiny lobsters were being shipped to Chinese partners. One third-generation fisherman in Western Australia said he tried quickly to diversify, but found that his only hope was rebuilding ties with China.

A German lighting company: The last time German industry faced a severe downturn, relief came from China. Olaf Berlien, chief executive of Osram, one of the world’s largest lighting companies, said that since then he has become more skeptical and worked to rethink logistics and supply chains.

Luxury bathroom fixtures from Japan: Toto, Japan’s largest toilet maker, makes what China’s nouveau riche really want: electronic bidet toilets with heated seats, warm water jets, pleasingly shaped ceramic bowls and automated lids.

China accounts for more than half of its overseas sales. And for Toto, the huge market and skilled workers are too good to pass up.

If you have 5 minutes, this is worth it

In Russia, migrant workers come last

As the coronavirus batters Russia, migrant workers from Central Asia have been hit especially hard — first losing their jobs, then often refused medical care if they become ill, and now unable to return home because of fewer flights. Above, migrants from Central Asia in cramped housing in Moscow.

The coronavirus crisis has magnified the inferior status of migrant workers. Desperate to get home, migrants have been banging on the doors of their embassies in Moscow. “Migrantophobia is real in Russia,” said one lawyer.

Here’s what else is happening

Philippines: The journalist Maria Ressa and a former colleague at the news site Rappler, which Ms. Ressa founded, were convicted of cyber libel by a court in Manila. It was another blow to press freedoms in a country where journalists have been threatened and bullied.

U.S. rights: In a stunning victory for the L.G.B.T.Q. movement, the Supreme Court ruled that the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which prohibits sex discrimination, applies to gay and transgender workers and protects them from workplace discrimination.

U.S.-Russia spying: A court in Moscow sentenced an American, Paul Whelan, to 16 years in prison on espionage charges. The former Marine was arrested in 2018 after being handed a flash drive that he says he thought contained pictures of churches but was instead loaded with classified information.

Snapshot: Above, a barbershop in Rajkot, in India’s Gujarat state. From our series “The World Through a Lens” comes a collection of portraits from Gujarat, a place that defies easy generalizations, says photographer Michael Benanav.

What we’re reading: This list from Vox on habits that people want to keep post-lockdowns. More working from home is an obvious one on that list, but there are also some thoughts about less consumerism and slowing down.

Now, a break from the news

Cook: These chocolate chip cookies are about as adaptable as cookies get. You don’t even need chocolate chips — pack them with dried fruit, nuts or a chopped up chocolate bar.

Watch: Comic Dave Chappelle’s Netflix special “8:46” addresses police brutality, the death of George Floyd and protests. There aren’t really any jokes, writes our culture reporter, but instead “a raw accounting.”

Read: Take a look, or perhaps a second look, at Robert Frank’s eye-opening book of 83 photographs, “The Americans,” published in 1959. He had crossed America by car, seeing it as an outsider, a Swiss who left Zurich in 1947 in search of broader horizons.

At Home has our full collection of ideas on what to read, cook, watch, and do while staying safe at home.

And now for the Back Story on …

Confronting South Korea’s beauty standards

Frances Cha’s novel “If I Had Your Face” is an unflinching look at how four young women pursue their dreams and ambitions in Seoul. Ms. Cha confronts South Korea’s social norms, including its impossibly high beauty standards. Here’s what she told our In Her Words newsletter:

What inspired you to write a book about contemporary South Korea?

I wanted to write about the people I encountered every day in Korea. I have read “The Joy Luck Club” so many times that both my covers have fallen off. And reading it, I realized it was possible to have an Asian protagonist and explore themes like filial piety. I wanted to write a story about young women that is very specific to modern Korea.

Explain the connection between filial piety and elective plastic surgery.

Filial piety — “hyo” in Korean — is the age-old historical and traditional virtue of deep respect and support and love toward one’s parents and elders. To say “he is a hyo-ja” or “she is a hyo-nyeo” means someone is a good son or daughter, exhibiting and living by respect that is born of gratitude to your parents. I know many friends of my parents have lived with their in-laws for many decades, supporting and providing for them, despite the fact that these relationships are often strained.

The cosmetic surgery industry is practically its own character in your book. Can you help us understand more about the obsession with plastic surgery in South Korea?

When I tell people I’m Korean, people always ask if I’ve had plastic surgery. Plastic surgery runs very counter to American and Western ideas about remaining true to yourself — that you shouldn’t have to change anything about yourself because of anyone’s judgment.

But in South Korea, there are very real and practical reasons people have plastic surgery. I ask readers to reserve their judgment on that. The reality in 21st-century South Korea is how you look does matter, especially if you don’t come from wealth and status. Until recently, job applicants had to submit a photo with their job application.

That’s it for this briefing. See you next time.

— Melina

Thank you Carole Landry helped write this briefing. Melissa Clark provided the recipe, and Theodore Kim and Jahaan Singh wrote the rest of the break from the news. You can reach the team at [email protected].

P.S. • We’re listening to “The Daily.” Our latest episode is about taking stock of where we are six months into the coronavirus. • Here’s our Mini Crossword, and a clue: Cubicle furniture (four letters). You can find all our puzzles here. • Jamie Stockwell, a deputy National desk editor, will expand her role to include Race/Related, a cross-desk team aimed at producing thoughtful stories about race.

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